#like when midnights came out and people were trying to claim her lyricism on that was someone as groundbreaking as ever

[ropebunnykant]

i'm gonna say something controversial yet brave but i think the people that claim taylor swift is the best song writer of our generation and the people that say shes a horrible lyricist are like. equally stupid. like yes she has some banger lines that strike the soul but she also has lines like "i never don't cry at the bar" like let's be serious. her pen is inconsistent at best and there are FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR better lyricists in the game currently

[tayloralisonswift]

hello, previous anon here! I’ll try to explain more of what I mean.

first, imo the concept of a “breakup album” really only applies to an album about a broken romantic relationship that comes out relatively soon after an artist’s breakup. taylor’s next new album would be more “breakup album” material (assuming she doesn’t have any breakups between now and then). but depending on when that album comes out, if it’s like 2 years from now, well, the song material would really dictate whether it’s a “breakup album.” if she writes about non-relationship stuff, I don’t think it should be considered a “breakup album.” the first part of my argument is that there is some intellectual reason for albums to be considered “breakup albums.” there’s existing discourse (academic and pop culture) about these types of albums specifically, so it’s not a categorization to throw around as lightly as people like to.

second, humans never have knowledge of the future. reinterpreting art that came out in the year 1950 with the lens/values/culture of the 2020s obviously comes with some nuance and gray areas that people interpreting art have to tackle. that’s why we understand that, okay, maybe some lyrics seem dated or inappropriate today. of course you take into account what was happening in the artist’s life before the album was released. and 1950s album is going to sound way different than a 2020s album too. point is, there are plenty of parts of an older piece of art that are explainable because of a time difference between its creation and when someone is opining about it, or because of biographical reasons. but there are some parts that aren’t explainable in that way, and it’s also unrealistic to say that every artist will have made art about (for example) their breakup to happen in the future. no one of us could have really known what taylor and joe were feeling when midnights came out. obviously everyone had interpretations of songs that were more positive or negative about their relationship than other people’s interpretations. consensus, though, was generally that they were pretty happy and solid. most people were not claiming midnights was a breakup album…yet. so another part of my argument is that swifties writ large only claimed midnights was a breakup album after the breakup. that doesn’t pass the basic smell tests of “did you put some legitimate thought into why midnights belongs in the genre of ‘breakup albums?’” and “are you assuming you can figure out taylor’s feelings more than you actually can ever know?” if someone would have answered yes to the first, they were probably in a small minority pre-joever, ie not part of the consensus. saying yes to the second is also usually something that delegitimizes lyric interpretations.

to me it seems like the swiftie habit of saying “omg ___ is a breakup song, it makes so much sense now!” or “think about *insert lyric here* in the context of joever” is rooted also in online-ness and/or sensationalism for clout. this might just be my narrow viewpoint, but most of the times when I see someone claiming midnights is a breakup album, they’re doing it with that kind of internet cookie-cutter speak that gets interactions. something like “I want to d*e because I thought about how sweet nothing is about wanting nothing and him not even being able to give her that.” or a 3 minute tiktok analyzing a single line like “you don’t really read into my melancholia” and concluding that, omg of course we should have seen joever coming, she said he wasn’t even paying attention to her feelings. I’m being hyperbolic, but you get the picture. it’s literally just swifties discovering dramatic irony. those readings against the grain were always possible, it’s just that most people didn’t do them because they didn’t think they were real/valid/realistic. because joe and taylor were still together. so if you read it that their relationship was anything but solid you were just wrong. you were not using your brain to see the obviously more correct interpretation. you were not worth listening to. and therefore you could not influence the consensus.

the reason the tide shifted is that it was joever, and then people engaged in the noble and favorite pastime of analyzing taylor’s lyrics, and then internet and social dynanics took over, and popular interpretation shifted to “midnights is a breakup album” because of many and/or vocal people engaging in small acts of sensationalism and internet-izing their discovery of dramatic irony. I’m of course not saying everyone did this, nor that the people who did are evil for doing this, nor that they were trying to be anti-intellectual, nor that any one person having such a realization is dumb or anti-intellectual on its own. it’s more the collective effect is anti-intellectual.

anxiety about the general state of culture and thought aside, I’m sad that swiftie culture makes those kinds of sensational lyric analyses some of the most valuable. I would much rather hold other virtues, like thinking lyrical analysis is good because it’s unique or different or makes you inspired to find other connections.

hopefully that makes sense, I’m really not trying to be a hater, just trying to have a conversation about an unpopular opinion! love to you, kathryn 🩵

I realized i never posted this!

I think I’m probably someone you’re criticizing here, but your opinion is valid ! 🩷

[maylorscardigan]

I’ll just straight up say it.

He’s a classic covert narcissist.

He loved bomb her into thinking he was the only one she was safe with.

Isolated her from the world. This is even more obvious considering he is openly getting himself photographed when he hid her away.

When with Joe - we never really saw her out with any of her friends. Ever. She did it before him. Did it after him. Just not during. We have seen her friends around more now than we have in 6 years.

Her music screams how she was feeling. I know she may have said that folklore was just that… stories but I think there’s a deeper truth to it. Just like lover has an ugly under belly.

Taylor went from writing songs like Blank Space and having security in herself through her music. Her struggles were normal of anyone her age. But the first shroud of suspicion came out in the album lover but it was camouflaged by pink and brightness. There was a lot of insecurity and not feeling like she was good enough. It screamed it in the lyrics but she hid it well by putting a happy smile on and doing the age old fake it until you make it.

Folklore… that was a girl in pain. A girl who was longing. A girl who wanted to find happiness but found herself wondering. Exile is absolutely heart wrenching. Even if he played a role in it. The lyrics also scream insecurity. By evermore… tolerate it? That is when I looked over the last albums and was like whoa. The reason those albums are so emotional… so powerful and so good is because it’s her feelings in a raw and powerful way. Look at how she is when she performs tolerate it. You FEEL it. This is a woman who went from wanting a love story with a white dress to basically saying she was too much of a mad woman to be married.

By midnights… she literally was blaming herself for things, calling herself a narcissist, and saying she wasn’t good enough and that she understood that she wasn’t. That she agreed. That is 100% what this type of relationship does to you. What trauma bonds do to you.

Her line in anti hero about being a covert narcissist? That’s what they do. They trigger reactive abuse in a person and then convince them they’re the problem. That they’re the narcissist. Cognitive dissonance 101.

Then we have You’re Losing Me… like tolerate it… she is begging for the BARE minimum. She goes from saying LOOK AT ME. YOU DONT SEE ME. YOU TOLERATE ME BUT BUT I WANT YOUR LOVE to literally being at that stage of broken where you just… you give up. That song is… I’ve cried over songs before but that? Broke me.

What’s worse is….

She gets away from that. Builds something on her own. Finds happiness again. Comes out from the basement only for her fans to do the exact same things that Joe did to her.

They invalidated her. Tried to control her. Manipulated her. Became increasingly toxic and abusive towards her and the ones she loved.

Death threats? Saying she needed the same level of control over her life that Britney had?

She walked out of one abusive and toxic relationship and walked right into another with the people she thought would never do it - her fans.

She writes a song like “You’re Losing Me” which is very personal and heart felt and it’s completely ignored by her fans and still she has to see comments about how she should be with “dad”. Imagine having people harass you and tell you - endlessly that you want them with someone who… destroyed their soul. Dimmed their light. And when they try to rebuild themselves - which is hard. Nearly impossible to come back to life after that sort of hell - only to be bitch slapped right back into it. And her fans, like I imagine Joe did, have zero remorse for anything they have done.

They ignore the opinions of the minorities they claim to champion for. They ignore facts. They push for a narrative that is above and beyond crossing the lines. And yes - I am looking largely at the gaylors. She has flat out told the fans to STOP with it and to stop assuming she has any kind of relationship with her friends but hey - they don’t care.

It’s one thing to ship her with one person or another but to literally obsess over her sexuality and a relationship with a FRIEND…

She is a 33 year old woman.

Imagine - for five seconds - that you had MILLIONS of people who you don’t know, who aren’t your friends or your family or any of that try to tell you every little move you should make.

History lesson for you - the media once did that with a woman. The fans obsessed over her in a way that is very much like fans are with Taylor, minus social media and it cost her everything - her life. Princess Diana.

Oh. Hold on. There IS something in this world that is doing this to her fans in the world. That’s right. There’s people you’ll likely never know or never meet making decisions and actively taking away your rights. Telling you what you can and cannot do to your body.

Or how many of you have been in abusive situations? Need it be parents or partners or even friends? Or known someone who has. Most of us have experienced abuse whether it’s personal or through someone we know going through it.

No one has a right to control your life or what you do with it. Not the government. Not family. Not friends. Not your partner. Not fans. Not doctors. Not teachers. No one.

Fans literally rallied together to “free Britney” but have locked another woman in a different kind of cage.

Sorry for taking this so… off topic but I’m just infuriated right now.

“Do you she trauma bonded with Joe?” Yes, and if Kim & Kanye never happened she would’ve never given Joe a second of her time.

Yep. I just read up on trauma bonding and Taylor and Joe are like 100 percent it. More so Taylor trauma bonded with Joe and he was kind of just there.

[ur-favorite-queer-queen]

Internet Friends

For Maribat March day 4 theme internet friends

Master List

It was peaceful for once in the manor. Dick, Tim, Damian, Steph, Cass, and Babs were all in the living room doing their own thing. However peace cannot last forever and the silent atmosphere was interrupted by one Timothy Drake-Wayne. 

“Guys come check this out!” He exclaimed, his phone facing the others in the room. They all gathered around the phone, some more annoyed than others. On screen was a video and Tim hit play. 

It showed a girl with dark hair, blue eyes, and pale skin motioning for someone off screen to come over. There was music going on in the background and the girl was obviously getting impatient. The figure came on screen and they were all shocked to see it was Jason. Then at the top of the screen the words ‘Doing this trend with my overprotective best friend’ appeared and now they were very confused. Jason had never mentioned this girl before.

The music stopped and the girl repeated the lyrics “Look at my ass, look at my thighs” as she turned around. But before she could turn around Jason picked her up and carried her off screen before the video ended. 

“What was that?” Dick asked after a few seconds of silence. 

“It’s a trend on tik tok that girls usually do with their boyfriends, but in this case Jason and this girl are just best friends.” Steph answered. 

“How does Jason even know this girl?” Dick pointed out, asking the question that was on all of their minds. Unfortunately, no one, not even Tim, knew the answer. 

Cass then spoke up, “Watch more.” She grabbed Tim’s phone and played another video, however this time it was Jason holding the camera. He came over to the strange girl who looked to be baking something. She looked up at him weirdly, asking something that couldn’t be heard because of the audio playing, luckily they could read lips. 

‘What are you doing?’ She asked

Jason responded with ‘Just listen.’ 

She turned her attention to the camera as the lyrics “That’s my best friend, that’s my best friend” played. Jason was moving to the beat and that seemed to convince the girl to also move to the beat. The song continued with more lyrics playing “She’s not my girlfriend, she’s my best friend”. Then suddenly the lyrics “I just fuck her her from time to time” played and the girl whipped out her spoon and started whacking him on the head with it. She was screaming ‘LIES’ just before the video cut out. 

This led to them going on a spree of watching their tik toks. Apparently this was their shared account and both of them had separate accounts they planned to look at later. An hour had passed of them just watching their tik toks before they stumbled upon an intriguing one. The caption was ‘You guys asked for it, so I’ll explain. This is going to be my side of the story.’

It showed Margot, as they had found out her name was, sitting on her bed recording herself painting her nails a blood red as she talked. 

“Ok so you guys have been asking for this for a while so here it is. How I met Jason part one. And Jason will also be doing his side of the story, just so you’re aware, watch that after this. But this also takes place after the whole ‘Hawkmoth and Lila Incident’ so if you haven’t watched that storytime on my personal account, you should probably go do that.” 

One look at each other and they knew they were gonna look at the story afterwards. It was getting too good to leave now.

“So a long time ago I had a venting account on Instagram. Now I had many venting accounts, all with different usernames, including Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat, all that good stuff but Instagram is where I met Jason. I posted something about how death could never stop me because I had died by the hands of an akuma before but ladybug’s cure brought me back to life. But then later on in the post I said something about how if this one boy, you all know who he is, couldn’t take a hint then I would rather let death take me than bother living in this mortal realm. Jason ended up seeing the post since we were following each other at the time and DMed me. Now he said and I quote ‘Yo, my username at the time, if you need me to come and beat this guys ass I would be more than happy too. I would gladly let death claim me as well without your shit posts to relate to.’” 

She had tried to make her voice sound deeper and had stopped painting her nails so she could do air quotes. “Looking back on it now, that is such a Jason thing to say, but at the time I was pretty confused and mildly concerned. And time’s up, part two will be posted right now.” 

“Wait, what the heck is an akuma and ladybug’s cure and why did she die from it!?!?!” Dick shouted once the video ended. 

“Dick you don’t know what she’s talking about?” Babs asked in disbelief. 

“Tt, Grayson, and I thought you were one of the smart ones in this family.” Damian scoffed. 

“Does everyone here, but me, know what she's talking about?” Dick questioned, getting yes and nods from everyone in the room.

“Okay Dick,” Tim began, “This is gonna be pretty unbelievable and complicated so I’ll try to explain it as best I can in a short amount of time so we can finish her side of the story before dinner. So while I’m explaining don’t interrupt me.” 

He waited for Dick to nod his head before continuing. “There are jewelry called miraculous that house mini gods that grant powers to whoever has the jewelry. Each miraculous houses a different god thus a different power. Miraculous themselves, including the gods bound to them, are neutral so they can be used for good or evil depending on who wields them. 

Hawkmoth and Mayura used the butterfly and peacock miraculouses for evil purposes and were basically emotional terrorists to the people of Paris. Hawkmoth was able to send out a butterfly with magic to a person feeling negative emotions and manipulate them to do his bidding. These butterflies and villains created by the butterflies were called akumas. If you were or became an akuma you were akumatized. Mayura was able to send out a feather with magic that also used negative emotions to create a monster that aided the akuma. The feathers were called amuks and the monsters were called sentimonsters. 

That was when the heroes Ladybug and Chat Noir also came along and fought Hawkmoth. Ladybug had the ladybug miraculous which granted her the power of lucky charm and miraculous ladybug. Lucky charm gave her an item needed to defeat the akuma and miraculous ladybug reversed all the damage a fight caused. She also had the task of purifying the akuma, turning it back into a butterfly. Chat Noir had the black cat miraculous which granted the power of cataclysm, which made it so he could destroy anything he touched. The 2 worked as a team for around a year before they brought in other temporary heroes who are not that important. Eventually all their temp heroes’ identities were outed and they could no longer use them so they were back to square one. 

However many people noticed that Chat Noir was not taking his job as seriously, he began sitting out battles, flirting with ladybug while there was an akuma, and even getting civilians killed, relying too heavily on ladybug’s cure. We’re not exactly sure what happened, we assumed she snapped because one akuma attack Chat Noir was not there. Instead, there was a whole new team of miraculous wielders including Murder Hornet wielder of the bee miraculous who had the power venom which let her temporarily paralize her opponent, Red Illusion wielder of the fox miraculous who had the power mirage which let him create illusions, Peridot Protector wielder of the turtle miraculous who had the power shelter which allowed him to create indestructible shields, Medusa wielder of the snake miraculous who had the power second chance which allowed her to reset the time line as many times as needed to win the battle, Mustang wielder of the horse miraculous who had the power voyage which let him create portals, and a new black cat holder, Midnight. 

The team took 6 months to defeat Hawkmoth and Mayura, who turned out to be Gabriel Agreste and Natalie Sancour. The Justice League tried to recruit them but they all wanted to live normal lives. Ladybug still checks in every 3-6 months to reassure everyone she still has all the miraculous. I don’t blame them, especially Ladybug, for wanting a normal life. This whole thing started when they were around 13 and ended when they were around 17.”

Tim then clicked on part two of her story, not even waiting for Dick to recover from the huge information dump. 

It was the exact same place she was at in part one, and she was still painting her nails the same shade of blood red. “Okay guys part two of how Jason and I met. If you didn’t watch part one go watch then return to this one. So picking up where we left off I Dmed him back and we ended up having a very long conversation about murder, people not understanding the word no, and spineless cowards. This went on for quite a while of us just messaging each other and eventually we gave each other our emails and then phone numbers. I gave him my phone number just before I moved out of Paris. After like 6 months of texting we planned to meet up at some park in New York that was near the apartment I lived at at the time. Now in hindsight that was a very dumb move on my part so to all the kids watching don’t go meeting up with strangers you meet on the internet. Do as I say not as I did. I almost regretted my decision to meet up with him because he is intimidating as hell! He’s like over 6 foot tall, with muscles the size of my head! I honestly thought that I had put myself in a very bad situation but thankfully he was just as nice in real life like he was over text. We ended up hanging out a lot more and long story short we’re best friends!” 

It was at this point that she looked directly into the camera with a glare that could rival Batman’s, stating, “Literally just best friends to all the people who think shipping us is okay!” And just like that, it was gone, “Anyways see you guys next video, bye!” 

And with that the video ended and the Wayne children, minus Jason obviously, were left wondering how they missed the fact Jason had a female best friend. One where they declared their friendship on the internet nonetheless!

“Well that was certainly something.” Steph commented. 

“Yeah, who knew Jason could have a non hero friend that we didn’t know about.” Tim joked. 

“So are we gonna watch Jason’s part?” Dick asked. 

“I don’t think we have time for that, but we can watch it after dinner.” Tim suggested, “Alfred is probably on his way to get us right now.”

“Tt, what do we do now?” Damian questioned. 

It was then that Cass stole Tim’s phone and started to play a new tik tok. And it showed Margot trying to teach Jason how to do the WAP dance. They were never letting him hear the end of this.

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

I am literally so sorry for that huge information dump with the miraculous. I did not expect to get that carried away while writing and by the time I realized it, it was too late and I had to post. Honestly because of how much I wrote I will probably use the miraculous holders names in a future fic, cause I’m lazy. :P Also if you wanna guess their identities feel free to! Anyways tomorrows prompt fic thing will be like a prequel for this one, it’s basically why Marinette now goes by Margot and why she lived/lives in New York. The prompt “Betrayal" will be connected to this as well. :)  Also sorry this was posted so late, I had things to do, that I still need to do...I hate procrastination

@maribatmarch-2k21

[dreamescapeswriting]

The Collaboration ~ OT7 [Request]

WORD COUNT: 2.1K

GENRE: Fluffy, platonic, established friendship,

PAIRING: Platonic ot7 x Fem!Reader

A/N: I hope this is okay for you sweetheart! It’s been a while since I’ve tried to write ot7 so I hope you enjoy this

The friendship that you had with the BTS boys was no secret, it had been public knowledge since the moment you meant them backstage at an award ceremony almost two years ago. One of your stylists had been recording you getting your hair and makeup done when there was a knock at the door and your manager walked in with them. It was hands down one of the best days of your life, even better than the day you signed your contract to become a singer and actress. The whole video consisted of you freaking out a little before finally coming down from the excitement and just talking with them. You'd been an ARMY for years so getting to meet them in person had been so surreal and then getting to call them all your friends was even more surreal to you. 

But the friendship was hugely publicised since you and BTS were both huge artists within the industry which meant a lot of articles were written about you and the boys together. Not all of the articles written about you both had been the nicest, some were and others were a lot worse. Some writing about how you were a nobody until it came to BTS. Some claiming you were dating one of the boys while others claimed that you were dating them all, which would be nearly impossible since you saw them as brothers and they saw you as a sister. Those ones happened to be your favourite to read but mostly because your fans and ARMY would be in the comments defending you or going along with it just to try and troll some people. There had been thousands of edits made to make it look as though you were dating which at first creeped you out and you made a statement about it which lead to less and less being made. It was nice to have that sort of vibe with your fans when they would actually listen to what was going on and what you did and did not like to see.

"The latest articles on us, have you read them?" You questioned Yoongi as you walked into his studio carrying two cups, one with your hot chocolate and another with coffee inside for Yoongi. You'd flown out to Korea for a break from your latest acting gig and decided to visit the boys while you had the chance to see them and actually spend some time together. Most of the boys were still working while you waited for them to go out to lunch with you, 

"What is it?" Yoongi chuckled taking the drink you were holding out for him as you brought up the article on your phone and sat down on the sofa behind you, the articles had begun the moment you touched down in Korea. It was going to take you a minute to be able to translate it all into Korean for him but you did your best, the Korean lessons with Namjoon and Jin were paying off really well.

"According to this one I'm using you guys for your fame, I'm only around you whenever I need to go up in fame points," You let out a small laugh at the thought of it. Were fame points even a thing? You continued to scroll through the website when went to the next one which instantly made you want to scream, Jimin walked into the room ready to tell you that he was ready for lunch when he saw the look on your face. It sent shivers up and down his back and made him feel like he was in trouble with you.

"You've got that murderous look on your face, Yoongi...What did you say?" Jimin questioned looking between you and Yoongi as he tried to figure out what could have been said to make you look this angry at something.

"Nothing...He didn't-" You mumbled as you scrolled through the article that was claiming that both of the fandoms were toxic together when it couldn't be further from the truth. Both fandoms were the sweetest you'd seen, ARMY had been so welcoming to you and your fans as well as vice versa. It honestly felt as though they were more like family members to one another than just random fans. You regularly found them defending one another whenever you went onto your personal Twitter account t update your fandom on things.

"A writer is claiming that our fandoms are the most toxic ones out there..." You mumbled as you brought up your keyboard and began getting ready to type out something on your page, you knew you were supposed to rise above things and if it had been about you you would have done. But since it was about people you scared about you had to take the matter into your own hands, 

@Y/NOfficial: Thank you to all of you that are always trying to be kind and treat everyone nicely. It's refreshing to see all of you act on behalf of me and other people on this app. You're always so kind and caring and I love to see it.

Along with it, you attached a photo of you with the boys from the night you arrived in Korea so that people would know what you were indirectly tweeting about and just like that people were coming to add smirking emojis or to start laughing about what it was you were actually talking about. 

"We should do something..." You muttered as you looked back at Yoongi and Jimin ideas filling your head within seconds. A collabortation between you and the boys had been in talk for a while but neither of your managers had come together to put the plan into action.

"What are you thinking?" Jimin quizzed as he sat himself down next to you looking over at your phone to see what you had just sent out.  

"We've spoken about it, Yoongi and I both have song ideas we've been working on..." Yoongi turned to look at you from his chair as he nodded along to what you were saying instantly knowing what you were talking about. There was a huge folder on his laptop dedicated to the work you'd both been doing together both long-distance and in person.

"I still have it all saved on my laptop if you want to take a look at it all." The statement was directed in Jimin's direction as you both waited for him to say something to it,

"Sure...What have you been working on?" He moved closer to Yoongi to take a look over everything and you smiled. The things you and Yoongi had been putting together were a backing track with some melodies and adlibs you'd both been doing overtime. It was far from being done but it was better than having nothing to go off, all you needed to do was get the okay from both of your managers and the rest of the boys. 

"I've been working on a rap part for Hoseok and Namjoon and Y/n has been writing her own lyrics for her parts," Yoongi mumbled as you grabbed a spare chair to sit down next to him with. Hitting play he let the melody and your rough lyrics fill the air of his small studio.

The collaboration had been amazing, the song was one of your best works in your opinion and the videos were shot and ready to be released at a moments notice. Teasers had been being released all month between your account and the BTS one but neither of the fandoms had put it together that this would be some kind of collaboration. The teasers for the songs had been dramatically different from one another, Yoongi changing the melodies on his and yours just so that nobody would be able to place that they were the same track. Your Twitter had been focussing on releasing your parts in the video with your words and then the boy's parts only being theirs. The fans had no idea but there were a select few that had pieced it together bit by bit and were starting to realise what was happening but no one else seemed to piece it together. 

"It's almost midnight," You said over the call to the boys, all of them were sitting on skype with you as they waited inside Hoseok's studio this time. They were all sitting on the sofa in his room watching the countdown on one of the monitors, the plan was to release the music videos at the same time and wait to see what would happen with the fandoms.

"We've worked so hard for this," Namjoon chuckled as he handed all of the boys a small drink each to celebrate with, you had your own glass of wine to drink while you waited as well. Jungkook cleared his throat as he got up to give a small speech about how much he'd enjoyed working with you.

"You guys worked so great, I don't know how I'll thank you enough." You whispered as you looked at each of them through the screen feeling an overwhelming urge to cry as you thought about how close you'd all grown as a friendship group. This time it was your turn to get a sappy speech but the countdowns began and you smirked looking at the titles, both the same song and video on each channel but the boys had their title while yours was left as. Y/n Y/L/N ???? For a little extra surprise to the fans. Taehyung began counting down from one minute and thirty seconds and the rest of you began to join in with him.

"5...4...3...2...1," The iconic BigHit entertainment logo and intro filled the speakers in your room and you let out a small squeal at the thought of it finally being live after the months of working on it. The boys cheered as the music started and Jin opened up the song for you all walking around their dorms on the screen.  

"I'm going to check Twitter!" You yelled out as you brought out your phone to see all of the different reactions that were coming out from the video. Mostly people freaking out thinking Youtube had crashed and placed both videos onto the channel until your line came up. In the music video, you walked onto the set and began singing through your part of the song as if it was casual. The video idea had been that it was just supposed to be a casual setting at the dorms and you randomly walked through the front door and sat with them while singing. The song was about friendship, which wasn't like a lot of songs any of you had written before but it felt like it needed to be said. That people could be friends or more like family members without having to hate one another or have everyone assume that they were dating. It was mostly a huge slap in the face to all the media outlets claiming that you couldn't be friends with the guys because they were...well guys.

"THE COLLAB OF A LIFETIME!" Someone had tweeted out with your retweet of the music video link, you smirked reading through everything that was on the screen, your whole dash refreshing itself every two seconds. Everyone seemed to be loving the fact that you had decided to finally collaborate with the boys, 

"They love it," You giggled as you sipped on your glass of wine in celebration of the song coming out, cheering along with the boys.

The night continued on as you waited for people to react to it until you decided to go live on Instagram. The boys were all gone now so you wanted to see what everyone was thinking of it now so you set your phone up on your desk and got ready to read through everything.

"I can't wait to see your reaction videos tomorrow, you guys know I watch all of them." You laughed softly as you stared into the small screen of your phone reading through the thousands of comments that were flying through. Play with your hair if this was because of the article about you using the boys for fame. #Y/nandBTSTakeOver You smirked to yourself before playing with the ends of your hair and winking into the camera, going back to answering more questions from your fans and ARMY wanting them to know how the collaboration had come to be and if there would be more work with them in the future.

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @rjsmochii​ @bisexualmess007​ @innersooya​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​

[got-svt]

it could’ve been you

summary: it’s jinyoung’s engagement party and you find yourself wondering what could’ve been if you had said yes to his proposal years ago.  pairing: park jinyoung x reader (+ some platonic!jackson x reader) genre: angst word count: 2076

part of my tales from the lakes series inspired by taylor swift’s champagne problems

__

Jackson had been kind enough to ask you to be his date for tonight. “As friends, obviously,” he quickly added once he noticed the panicked look in your eyes. He insisted, claiming that you needed a bit of extra support if you were to make it out of that party in one piece. Maybe he was exaggerating, but you knew he cared for you. So, as you rolled your eyes and lightly hit his chest at his antics, you agreed. Jackson clapped his hands together and gave you the biggest, most reassuring grin he could muster, “Great! I’ll pick you up at seven.”

You didn’t tell him, but you were grateful. 

Because as you stepped inside the lavish restaurant that Jinyoung had rented out for the occasion, you became vaguely aware that all eyes were on you. You smoothed out the non-existent creases on your most expensive outfit as you avoided their eyes. Jackson sensed your anxiousness and took your hand in his, leading you away from their judgemental gazes to a table where Yugyeom and Bambam greeted you with a smile.

“Yn!” Bambam engulfed you in a bone crushing hug, “I’ve missed you so much.”

You let out a breath as he released you from his grip, “I’ve missed you too.”

“We saw each other last week,” Yugyeom said, looking at you and Bambam in confusion, “what are you talking about?”

“A week is too long.” Bambam joked, gently bumping his hip into yours.

Yugyeom was about to open his mouth to retaliate when people started crowding around the large entryway, catching all of your attentions. All four of you make your way to where everyone else was, meeting up with Mark, Jaebeom, and Youngjae in the process.

“What’s everyone gathered around for?” You asked to no one in particular.

“The man of the hour has finally arrived.” Mark replied, but his eyes were elsewhere, and you couldn’t exactly blame him.

Jinyoung walked in, handsome as ever, hair swooped back and in a fitted black tux. All smiles, eyes crinkling as he looked around the room. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight before it clenched as memories of him dressing that way for you entered your memory. 

Beside him was the most beautiful woman you had ever laid eyes upon. You had never seen her in person before, only on a screen as she acted alongside Jinyoung in several of his dramas. You hated to admit it, but she looked more radiant in real life. The cameras did not do any justice to her already perfect skin, shiny dark hair, and adorable button nose.

You forced yourself to look away when everyone in the room called out for them to kiss.

That could’ve been you.

___

You had been there for him since day one. 

From the day his family moved into your neighborhood, into the house next to yours. He was the one to approach you first, to the shock of those you tell the story to. It wasn’t that Jinyoung was awfully shy or terribly picky, he just usually preferred his own company to that of others. But when ten year old him saw you at tumbling around in your front yard, something in him knew he had to talk to you.

You had been the one to encourage him to audition at JYP, recognizing his talent even before he did himself. You helped him practice in his bedroom, learning choreography and singing songs alongside him. And when you tackled him with a hug at the news that he passed the audition, warmth and happiness radiating from your body, he knew he loved you. 

You were the first person who was able to sneak into their dorms. It was almost midnight and you wore anything you thought helped conceal your identity: sunglasses, a mask, and a hat. He met you at the backdoor and immediately ushered you inside, introducing you to the people that would, alongside him, eventually be got7.  The members immediately loved you, which in turn only made him fall for you more. 

You were there at the front row during got7′s very first concert. A sign in your hand that declared your love for him. He spotted you in the crowd immediately, heart jumping as he read the sign, which caused him to stagger on some of the lyrics he was singing. You and him had been friends for years. What exactly gave you the courage to be the first one to confess, he never figured out. But he was grateful nonetheless when you met him at his dressing room with a kiss. 

You never would have thought that someday you’d have to watch him get married to someone else. 

___

Jinyoung never thought that you would actually come, especially given your history. Truth be told, the invite was more of a courtesy rather than an actual invitation. You were no longer lovers, now reluctant friends. If it had not been for the rest of the members, he would’ve lost contact with you altogether.

Still, his feet seemed to have a mind of their own when they lead themselves straight to you— skipping his family and friends. He tried to tell himself to turn back, maybe talk to his future mother-in-law instead. But it was too late, he now stood a few feet in front of you, hands in his pockets with a small smile on his features, “Hi.”

“Your bowtie is crooked.” 

“What?” He uttered out, eyes alight with confusion. 

You let out a small chuckle and pointed at the black fabric, “I would fix it for you, but you know—”

Jinyoung looked around the room to see some of the guests watching the both of you, quickly looking away once his gaze met theirs. His hands left his pockets to fix his bowtie, “Ah. I see. Thank you.”

You both looked down, as if the soles of your shoes had suddenly become a point of interest, completely unsure of what to say. The rest of the members always made it a point to no longer leave the two of you alone, for fear of tension and the unavoidable awkward silence. Yet here you two were, without Bambam, Jaebeom, or anyone else to save either of you. 

“What happened to us?” You asked once the silence became too deafening for you to bear.  It was never this hard for you two to hold a conversation, more often than not people would have had to physically restrain you from talking. Now, you couldn’t even look at each other in the eyes. “How— why did we end up like this?”

For a brief moment, quicker than a flash of lighting, his guard went crumbling down. For the first time in years, he let you see the effect you truly had on him. His tone was calm, but not devoid of emotion.  Jinyoung wanted you to hear the sincerity, the vulnerability in his voice, “You said no.”

____

Jinyoung had spent months preparing, but he always knew he wanted to propose. He rented out the restaurant you had your first date in, where you spent each and every one of your anniversaries. He brought a bouquet of your favorite flowers and bought a brand new suit. He asked help from his family, his members, even JYP himself. He spent several nights composing the perfect speech, sacrificing sleep for endless revising. 

But he should’ve known something was wrong when your hand slipped from his as he lead you through a slow dance. When you just picked at your favorite food instead of eating. When you could only give him curt replies to his stories and questions. His mother’s ring was in his pocket, but it started feeling unusually heavy. He assumed it was just his nerves getting the better of him. 

Jinyoung knew something was wrong when you stopped him from getting down on one knee. When you said no before he could even ask. 

____

“You never gave me a reason, you know?” 

It had been three years since he proposed to you, well, tried to. Yet he still couldn’t figure out what prompted you to say no. You had always been on the same page as him, in fact that was what he loved about your relationship the most. Were you just not ready? Or was it because you couldn’t handle being married to an idol? But he would’ve waited, and he was fine with keeping your relationship a secret. He may have even preferred it that way, and when you left him standing that faithful night, he began to question everything he thought he knew about the both of you. But that was years ago, all he wanted now was an answer. For you to give him one good reason.

“I still can’t.”

____

All the guests had gathered around the center of the room. Chairs and tables had been moved to the side for a makeshift dance floor. The string quartet began playing, the notes guiding Jinyoung as he lead his fiancee in the most elegant waltz. Their happiness undeniable as they glided across the room like they were always meant to dance with the other. Their eyes glued to each other, uncaring of the tens of people watching their every move. 

“That could’ve been you.” Yugyeom whispered, earning himself an elbow in the stomach from Jackson. He doubled over in pain before letting out in a strangled whisper, “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

But he was right, it could’ve been you.

The one who wore his mom’s ring on her left ring finger. The one he twirled around the room, earning everyone’s quiet swoons of adoration. The one who gripped his hand tightly as they become illuminated by the soft glow of the chandelier. The one whose picture he carried in his wallet. The one he whispered ‘I love you’ to as he ended the dance with a dip, drowning out the room’s applause with a kiss. 

It should’ve been you.

But you said no, and you could give neither him nor yourself a reason. Maybe you couldn’t handle the life that came with being married to someone like him. You weren’t an idol, nor an actress. You were an outsider and no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be in. Maybe you just weren’t ready to get married. You were so young when he attempted to ask. Maybe you didn’t want to get married at all. The thought of marriage hadn’t even crossed your mind until he started getting down on one knee. Or maybe you were just afraid. Afraid that you weren’t deserving of his love. Afraid that someone else would come along and sweep him of his feet.

And someone else did come along because here she was in front of you, wrapped up in his arms, blissfully unaware of exactly how lucky she was to be with him. 

“I should go.” You muttered, though it was directed at no one in particular, unsure if anyone had even heard. But Jackson did. 

“You sure?” He asked,  “Let me give you a ride home at least.”

“No, please, stay.” You protest, shaking your head furiously, “Enjoy the party. I’m sure Jinyoung will be looking for you later.”

“Yn—” Jackson protested, gripping your wrist to stop you from leaving. His gaze was intense, almost challenging. But you had known him long enough to grown immune. 

You try to shake his hand off, offering him a smile to convince him you were fine with leaving alone, “It’s okay, I’ll just take the train. Or get a cab”

He stared you down, eyes scanning your face as he searched for any sign of reluctance or uncertainty, but he eventually let out a sigh when he realized there was no stopping you. “Text me when you get home, yeah?”

You nod, reaching up to hug him before whispering, “Thank you.”

The rest of the members said their goodbyes with a hug, promising to see you soon. You knew they meant it. 

As you went to the exit, something in you begged you to turn around, to give one last look around the room before you left. And so you did, only to find Jinyoung already looking back at you.

“I’m sorry.” You mouth, unsure if he could even see it.

But he smiled, giving you a small nod before he turned to face his fiancee; turning away from you.

[talkfastromance4]

4. Minefields--Ashton Irwin ‘Lovers in a Song’ series

a/n: So while each ‘chapter’ is titled after a song it’s more of the mood and a few choice lyrics that really made the story. This story changed a lot as I wrote it but in the end it all flows really nicely together. I’m so excited to share this with you! Each part is 3,000 with the exception of the last part. Please don’t hesitate to send me messages, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Word count: 3k

warnings: PLEASE READ THIS FIRST, there is physical abuse in this, it is minimal/accidental and happens after drinking/drug usage please, please read with caution, drug use mentioned briefly but no particular drug named, aftermath of drugs, aftermath of hit, more angst

Masterlist

LIAS masterlist

***

1 Year Ago

Cressida is flipping through her magazine on the couch in her hotel suite in Italy. She’s here on a promotional trip for the newest Brandy she helped design. It has a hint of vanilla and is in a beautiful gold bottle. Ashton gave her the idea.

Ashton is also in the hotel across the street. She wonders if he’s thinking of her too. The last time they were together they got into a big fight about Gavin and Lucinda. Ashton’s heard rumors he’s a part of a large drug cartel involving opioids, hallucinogens, the whole nine yards. Cressida disagreed because that’s all just rumors to stir the pot.

She fired back that Lucinda is only after Ashton’s money and plans on taking it all in a large divorce battle where she’d play victim. Ashton told her she was insane and they both left the hotel in huffs of fury.

She flips past a page that has her and Gavin blown up on both pages while they were out walking for lunch. The small article claims there’s “trouble in paradise and alcohol might be at risk.” Gavin has been partying a lot more recently and doesn’t come home until five a.m. most days. Cressida checks the watch on her wrist that matches the bracelet Ashton gifted her.

It’s nearly 2 in the morning now, her jet lag is still a nuisance. She glances to the open window and sees movement in Ashton’s room behind the white curtain. The only way she knows it’s his room is because that’s where they stayed while they were here that wonderful summer.

Her lips are pursed as she contemplates and thinks, eyes glancing to the pink rotary phone and the short yet oh so far distance to where Ashton is. Giving in, she reaches for the phone and dials the hotel’s number asking for the room Mr. Irwin is staying it. When asked who they should say is calling she told them, “say it’s Miss Gold.”

The phone hums in her ear and she saunters over the window waiting to hear his voice and to hopefully see him in the window.

“It’s you,” his voice is soft and quiet. He almost sounds relieved.

“It’s me,” she smiles and begins to pace. “I know this might be a mistake calling you this late but…”

“But what angel?”

The use of her nickname is a sign that he misses her too. She moves in front of the window and sees his silhouette facing her.

“These dreams I have of you aren’t real enough.”

He’s silent for a beat.

“Is he there with you?”

“No, he’s at some club. He doesn’t get back until early in the morning anyway, I could come over and—”

Cressida stops short because she hears a woman’s voice behind Ashton asking if he ordered the turn down service yet. Her heart sinks as she watches in horror when Lucinda wraps her arms around Ashton, their silhouettes become one large shadow. There’s a lump in Cressida’s throat and her vision becomes blurred with tears.

“Is that them? Let me tell them there were used towels—hello? I’d like to complain—”

Cressida slams the pink phone in its cradle, the ringer tings loudly as her tears fall in rage and hurt. She shuts her curtain and falls into bed falling asleep by draining the sadness from her heart.

There’s a New Year’s Eve Party happening at The Golden Lion and Cressida is there with Gavin. When she spotted Ashton by himself at the bar with a friend of his, Luke she thinks is his name, she wants to put on a show for him since Lucinda is absent.

Cressida’s felt embarrassed ever since that phone call to him in Italy. Clearly there’s something going on between Ashton and Lucinda, right? More than just publicity? Cressida downed two lemon shots in a row, loving the sweet and sour taste of the lemon and sugar.

Anytime she and Gavin were in eyesight of Ashton, she’d drape herself over Gavin and laughed extra loud. Sober, she’d hate herself for acting this petty, but being intoxicated made it all appear crystal clear. She could feel Ashton’s gaze on her the whole night until she ducked away to the bathroom.

When she exited she caught sight of Gavin with his hand up some woman’s dress and she’s giggling at something he’s saying in her ear. Cressida sees red, because not only is Ashton happy in his ‘relationship’ leaving her in the dust, but Gavin is also doing it for all the world to see.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Cressida shrieks making her way towards Gavin.

The girl he was hitting on gasps then quickly ducks away back into the main hall where the party is. Gavin sighs rolling his neck from side to side before facing Cressida.

“Please, don’t tell me you’re hurt about this,” he scoffs. “Why don’t you go run to Irwin?”

“What are you talking about? You can’t be seen making out with someone who isn’t me, not when our relationship is in the spotlight 24/7.”

“Oh, come on, you don’t need me to be in the spotlight. You don’t need anyone because you’re Cressida Leigh James, the princess of Brandy because your great grandaddy double-crossed his partner. Guess that does run in the family.”

Cressida felt like she got slapped. While her and Gavin’s relationship is merely for public eye, they always seemed to have gotten along pretty well. She thought they were somewhat friends, but she has been double-crossing him this whole time. She’s been double-crossing her entire family from three years ago.

“You really think I want to marry you?” Gavin stalks closer to her and she backs away, he’s never acted this way with her before. “You’re a selfish rich girl expecting that everyone loves you. I never did and I never will, so when it is announced that we are to be married, I’ll be as faithful as you’ve been to me. See you at midnight.”

He shoves past her and Cressida is left alone with her shame and guilt. It falls out of her from her tears that won’t seem to stop. She hobbles from the room to go back into the bathroom, she’ll stay there for the rest of the night. No one wants her. Ashton has Lucinda, Gavin has everyone else. While she’s swiping at her cheeks trying to dry her tears, she collides into someone and by the smell of his cologne she knows exactly who.

“Cressida? What happened?” Ashton asks steadying her by her shoulders.

“It’s not like you care,” she cries trying to continue her way past him.

“What are you talking about? Did Gavin hurt you? I’ll kill him, I swear I’ll—”

“I’ve hurt myself. I’m hurting other people, too. Leave me alone, Ash, you should be with Lucinda.”

“Angel—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I should have known you’d be right here waiting in the wings for her to fall back into bed with you, Irwin,” Gavin’s voice strikes her like a whip. “I came to apologize but I was right. You are a slut for him.”

“Watch your mouth, de Poiters,” Ashton warns shifting Cressida behind him. He takes a step closer to Gavin, his fingers twitching. He’s wanted to punch Gavin ever since he saw he’s been linked with Cressida.

Gavin laughs and comes toe to toe with Ashton, Cressida sniffles watching what will happen. She’s thankful no one else is around, but at the same time she almost wishes there were people witnessing. Then this whole hidden façade could end.

“You hit me then everyone will know about you. Even her Daddy.”

Ashton clenches his jaw and Cressida gasps. Why would he say it like that?

“I know a lot more than you two think,” he jeers. “But I guess I owe you thanks, because I don’t ever have to fuck her.”

Ashton’s fist connects with Gavin’s nose in record speed. Cressida shouts in surprise and watches in horror as they tousle, fists colliding with flesh and snatching onto shirts trying to get more than one hit in.

“Stop! Stop! Please!” Cressida cries trying to break them up.

A defensive backhand meant for Ashton strikes Cressida’s cheek and she falls to the floor with a pained scream. Her vision turns black and spotty, and her ear is ringing from the commotion above her.

“You bastard!”

“I didn’t mean to! Cress, are you all right? I’m sorry, please, I didn’t mean to hit you. I took some pills to ease off tension and—”

“Shut the fuck up and get away from her,” Ashton seethes shoving Gavin against the wall. His face is centimeters away from Gavin’s. “If I hear you talk disrespectfully to her again or if you lay a hand on her, I will kill you with my own bare hands. If you have any drugs that are near her, you get rid of them, you hear me?”

“Y-yes. Please, I’m sorry. I need to make sure she’s—”

“She’s not your concern now because you’re on a trip. Sober up and get out of my sight,” Ashton threatens pushing him towards the door. “She’s going to be with me until you stop acting like a fucking teenager and if I hear you’re anywhere near this building, I’ll have you arrested to rot in prison for life.”

Gavin gives one last pleading look to Cressida who is rubbing at her cheek before leaving. Ashton rushes to her side, his fingers graze at the shine on her cheek. It’s already bruising, and she flinches at his touch, her eye clamped shut.

“It’s me. He’s gone and I’m right here,” he soothes keeping his hand hovering above her face. “Can I help you up?”

She nods sniffling, her hands reaching out for him. She’s off balance from drinking and her head is still spinning from the backhand. Ashton helps her walk but it’s hard for her, so he just lifts her into his arms. She cries out in pain when her cheek rubs against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he hushes, “I’ll take you up to our room and clean you up.”

“Okay,’’ she whimpers, lips trembling. She closes her eyes to blink and when she opens them again she’s staring at their room. Her ears are ringing and it’s hard to see through her puffy eyes, both from crying and the slap.

“I’m setting you on the bed and I’ll call Louisa to send up your clothes and a first aid kit,” Ashton tells her. When he sets her on the bed he removes his hands from her like a hot iron. “No one will know what happened, okay?”

Cressida sways in her spot on the bed, her head feels really heavy and all she wants to do is sleep. It seems like forever until Ashton is back in front of her with a pile of clothes she keeps here that the staff washes and a first aid.

“Do you want to change first or have me clean your cheek?” Ashton’s voice is so soft it reminds her of a feather.

“Change. My feet hurt,” she whispers.

He helps her change out of her dress and into the sleep shorts and t-shirt. She lets out a cry when the fabric touches her cheek, he quickly apologizes then opens the kit. His fingers are very cool and gentle as he splays them on her cheek inspecting it.

“You’re bruising already,” he breathes then dabs at it with an alcohol wipe.

“Ow!” she cries.

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos sympathizing with her pain. “I need to clean it and Louisa brought up an ice pack so we can bring down the swelling.”

Tears roll down her cheeks as he cleans her up, he comments on what he’s doing, how well she’s handling it, and when he’s almost finished. He places a small band-aid on the small cut that’s on the apple of her cheek.

“You’re all done,” he kisses her hand then rests the ice pack on her cheek. She winces again when he places her hand over it to keep it on the most swollen part of her bruise. “What can I have the front desk send up for you?”

“Water,” she croaks, “and bread.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He’s gone again and she feels oh so tired, so she lays down on her side letting the ice pack stay on its own. It’s hard to see because her eye is swollen shut, the pack feels good on her bruise. She wants Ashton.

“I’m here, I’m right here,” his voice soothes, and she’s being lifted to the center of the bed. Cressida crawls onto his chest, his arms wrap around her protectively. Hesitantly, and very carefully, he kisses the top of her head.

He helps her drink the water that’s sent up and feeds her the bread in small pieces, it hurts her to chew. And all the while he holds her, his heart aching for her yet also bursting in happiness by being with her. He lays the blanket over them and holds the ice pack on her cheek while she sleeps. It’s a restless night, whenever she turns she lets out a small cry and Ashton is quick to pacify her.

The next morning, she can only see him out of her left eye because her right is shut completely. Ashton smiles at her warmly but then memories of the night before come creeping back. Gavin’s words, his and Ashton’s fight that resulted with her on the floor. Ashton’s lip is cut but other than that he still looks perfect.

“I bet I look horrible,” she croaks trying to sit up then groans. Her body feels like cement and her head is pounding. She lays her head back down gingerly on Ashton’s chest.

“You’re always beautiful,” his fingers rub over her hair, “you’re just a little bruised up right now.”

They lay in silence as the sun starts to rise, the light lifting higher and higher on the wall facing the window. The steady beat of his heart is a familiar tune to her ears. She’s been graced to be in his presence five months earlier than they planned and from what she remembers from last night, she’ll be here with him until Gavin’s sober.

That could take months.

“He’s never hit me before,” she tells him quietly. His fingers pause on her back. “And I know it was an accident. He’s also never talked to me how he did.”

“He was on something, Cressida. That’s why he was acting the way he was. I know it’s fake between you two, but I thought he had respect for you. I want to make sure you’re taken care of when I’m not with you. I meant what I said, you know.”

She shifts her head so she can look at him properly. He’s a little blurry from her distorted vision, there’s some scruff on his chin. The cut on his lip is dry and she’s confused.

“You were hit more than me and I’m the one who looks worse. And I know you did, thank you for helping me.”

“It’s always the beautiful things that suffer the most damage,” he kisses her head giving her a sad look. “I’ve missed you.”

“Lucinda wouldn’t like to hear that.”

“She’s not here.”

“She was with you in Italy.”

“Is that what has you so upset? I had to accompany her for fashion week, my whisky was the premiered drink. You honestly think I wouldn’t have called you over to my hotel room if she weren’t there?”

“Really?” she smiles but it’s more of a grimace. Even her lips hurt.

“Try and relax your face, angel.”

“It’s hard. I’m so happy to be with you. Is that twisted?”

“A little,” he grins, “but that’s part of your charm. You’re a twisted woman.”

She frowns remembering what Gavin had said, she really is a twisted woman.

“Hey, what he said to you wasn’t true. All four of us are guilty of pretending with each other and lying to everyone else.”

“So, you don’t have feelings for Lucinda?”

“I respect her business, she’s great at branding and marketing. She’s a friend, and she asks about you.”

“She knows about me?”

“It’s no surprise they both caught on eventually,” he smiles, “we’ve been doing this for a long time, angel, and always in the first week of May.”

She touches her cheek carefully; her head hurts from all the thoughts coursing through it and from the throbbing pain in her cheek. She’ll call Gavin later to make sure he’s all right and to let him know she’s okay. Maybe the four of them could come up with a plan where they could all be happy.

“Ashton?”

“Hm? Are you hungry? I told Louisa to have breakfast delivered by ten. I figured you’d sleep later.”

“No, I’m not—” she stares at him.

Memories of their past push away the dark parts that have occurred. This situation isn’t fair to any of them. Even this, her staying with him now might be a mistake, it’s all broken in so many ways. Ashton always puts her back together again, much like last night. They’re in a constant minefield waiting for a bomb to go off. Last night was explosive but it wasn’t the nuclear bomb ticking away like the time they share.

She’d walk through a hundred minefields to be close to him.

“Kiss me, please?” her request is so soft he barely hears her.

“What I risk to be close to you,” he sighs with a teasing grin before pressing his lips ever so carefully on hers in a tender kiss, and she smiles in contentment. She doesn’t know how long they have, but any amount of time is worth it. Ashton is worth it.

“I still belong with you.”

Taglist: @calpalirwin​​ @myloverboyash​​ @loveroflrh​​ @cxddlyash​​ @princesslrh​​ @spicylftv​​ @notinthesameguey​​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​​ @calumance​​ @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt​​ @sarcastically-defensive17​​ @another-lonely-heart​​ @devilatmydoor​​ @thatscooibaby​​ @suchalonelysunflower​​ @dead-and-golden​​ @mymindwide​​ @blackbutterfliescal​​ @redrattlers​​ @karajaynetoday​​ @quasighost​​ @i-like-5sos​​ @creampiecashton​​ @calpops​​ @littledrummeraussie​​ @sexgodashton​​ @f-mu​​ @mystic-232

[whatiwillsay]

Hi! I'm the anon from @/swiftiesleuth. How much of 1989 is about Dianna Agron?

ok it’s been a weird couple weeks for gaylors so let’s go ahead and do this

1989 Is About Dianna Agron - A Compilation of Receipts:

Part 1 - People in The Know.  This tv writer claim 1989 is about Dianna:

Carina MacKenzie wrote for The Originals:

a guy named Michael Trevino was a regular on the vampire diaries but was also on a few episodes of The Originals.  He dated Glee cast member Jenna Ushkowitz.  Not only that but he was at Dianna’s 26th birthday party (I know he’s saying hbd to jenna but it’s because her birthday is actually on the 28th of April, which is the day dianna hosted her big party (where they probably celebrated dianna, jenna, and harry (whose birthday is also on April 28)

anyway as you all probably know (but if you haven’t check out this part of my swiftgron masterpost over @swiftgronmasterpost) Taylor was at dianna’s 26th birthday party and even performed songs for her in the midst of swiftgron’s most active period.  

do we know for sure if Micheal was the person who told Carina that swiftgron was a thing?  no.  but he did date jenna for three years and supposedly was good friends with dianna.  it’s possible he was in the know and tipped carina off when he worked with her.

now onto a few song receipts

I Wish You Would

Taylor claims this is a song about an ex driving past her house after they’ve moved to a house close to her.  She wrote it while she was on the Red Tour and it was recorded in 2013.

People assume it’s about Harry like most of 1989 but there’s just one problem. Harry didn’t move to LA until spring 2014, when taylor had moved to nyc and the track was recorded in 2013 so how could it be about him driving past her house?

On the other hand, Dianna moved in LA during the summer of 2013:

Green Eyes - there is debate over Dianna’s eye color sometimes, some people claim they’re hazel.  Green eyes are mentioned again and again on 1989 and it’s true that Harry does have green eyes but it’s also 100% true that Dianna does as well.  A few receipts on that are as follows.  Her character on glee, Quinn, canonically has green eyes:

there’s a famous scene where Rachel tells finn to get Quinn flowers with a green ribbon to match her green eyes:

at one point quinn gets a fake ID and the license has green eyes on it:

and Dianna herself gave her own bitmoji green eyes:

sometimes her eyes may appear hazel, sometimes green, but it’s fair to say that dianna identifies as a green-eyed person (and as someone with green-ish/hazel eyes i get it, i like my eyes to be seen as green to me that’s prettier than hazel)

Style

“Ok Cam I hear you on some songs but there’s no way Style isn’t about Harry right?  His last name is Styles!!!” I hear you exclaim incredulously.

and to that i say NO!

@all-my-possessions breaks this down a lot further but there is an idea that based on the timing of the writing of the song taylor was actually inspired by seeing Dianna dressed up as james dean in InStyle magazine in the UK in early 2014 to write style.

read their “rebel with a clue” post here but it boils down to this picture dianna posted:

the caption is “rebel without a clue” which is a reference to “rebel without a cause” a famous james dean movie.  Dianna seems to be saying this photo was inspired by a picture/styling of james dean such as this:

Dianna was featured like this in the February issue of InStyle UK and we know Taylor was in the UK when that issue came out.

she wrote Style shortly after and it’s thought that the “james dean” bit was inspired by dianna’s styling and the name was inspired by the fact that she was in a magazine literally called “instyle”

I Know Places

Gonna keep it brief here but harry and taylor never hid anywhere.  they did blatant pap walks and even went to time square to kiss at midnight on new years.  it does not get more obvious and public than that.  dianna and taylor on the other hand were pretty private.

and the coup de grâce, ofc, is 

Wonderland

Sure hetlors can try to claim harry has green eyes and grew up chessire but...

from my swiftgron masterpost: Dianna’s favorite book of all time is Alice in Wonderland.  She brought it up in interviews all the time, tweeted about it, auctioned off a signed copy of it for charity, her private Tumblr and instagram account are called whosirmesir which is a reference to it, her private Tumblr is filled with reblogs about Alice, and her public Tumblr was called fell down the rabbit hole.

I have a little joke that for a while dianna didn’t have a personality she just had alice in wonderland.  it is so quintessentially her.

here’s a smattering of receipts on that:

girl even had a tattoo with a quote from the book:

as i said her tumblr was called fell down the rabbit hole which is nearly a lyric from the fucking song:

her finsta name and private tumblr name is “whosirmesir” which is a reference to alice:

honestly, she never shuts the fuck up about alice in wonderland.  so yeah i think she has a much better claim to the song than harry.

and lastly, harry and taylor supposedly dated for 2 months from early November 2012 to the very beginning of January 2013.  do you really think taylor is singing all these songs about a relationship that lasted 8-9 weeks?

no.  1989 is about dianna agron and i will not be taking feedback.

i think a couple songs (yail and wildest dreams) are about karlie, and a few more (wtny, nr, bad blood, blank space, and shake it off) are about non-romantic situations but the love story told within the album is 100% about dianna agron.

[bigwhispersbluebird]

Kiss me behind closed doors

How long can you keep a relationship hidden? What happens when the truth comes out and burns everything in its wake? Even the love that once felt enough. 

Relationship: Namjoon!idol x Reader!idol

Canon compliant, angst, hints of smut

Author’s note: Another two-shot. Angst cause I am a bitter soul nowadays

The moonlight peeked through the curtains of the window, striking his naked back directly as he slept soundly on the side of my bed he had claimed as his own. I watched the white light illuminate the dips and curves of his back as if kissing him just like I had when he had showed up at my backdoor like it was routine. 

And perhaps it was. Sneaking to each other’s places in the quiet of the night, stolen glances in a room full of people and text messages sent and deleted over and over again. 

As I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his sleeping form, I tried to memorize his face. The dragon eyes that seemed so innocent like this, the high rising cheekbones melting into deep dimples on the corner of his lips which highlighted the sharp jawline that arched into a prominent Adam’s apple. I curled into myself, wrapping my arms around my knees that were pushed into my body and inhaled his musky and woodsy scent that I was covered in, my eyes still not leaving him. 

When I first met Kim Namjoon, we both were stripped bare of the fame, money and eyes of people that urged us to be perfect. We were both on separate vacations and happened to run into each other at a club. Recognizing him, I had bowed to him slightly from afar and that was it. But the next day when I walked into a small local bookstore located at the edge of an alleyway, familiar eyes, now hidden behind thick black rimmed glasses, were staring at mine. Small conversation about books and we thought that it would be the last time these chance meetings would occur. But it was like the universe had conspired against us, throwing us together in the same places at the same time and it was a test of restraint and patience; what we both lacked as the pull between us got stronger everyday as we learned more and more about each other. 

The day before I had to return back home, a knock on my door had startled me because I knew who it was before I had even looked through the peephole. I often go back to that day. What would have happened if I had not opened the door? What if I had not let him utter all the things I had ached to hear? What if I had not let him pull me to him and close the door behind us? What if I had not let him stay the night? Or on all the nights that followed?

Maybe then I would not be sitting here on my own bed, afraid to fall asleep because that would mean losing time that was already running out. 

In Seoul, Kim Namjoon was RM, the leader of BTS, and I had no right to have him as a lover in my bed every night knowing well that the moment everyone found out that he was dating a controversial solo artist, everything would crash, burn and crumble into ashes at our feet. 

“We should stop”, I would say between fervent kisses getting deeper every time and he would kiss me more deeply, digging his long fingers in my hips agreeing, “We should”, but neither of us would stop, we could not. 

I don’t know how long I just sat in the same position on the bed but when a notification on his phone illuminated the screen and showed the time, I was brought out of my thoughts. The sun would be out soon and it was wise for him to leave before that. That was the norm after all. 

But as I inched closer to him, his hand reaching out in his sleep for mine, the bitter and sad part in me ached to stop being wise and smart. I wanted to let him sleep through the night and the morning. I wanted to wake him up with a good breakfast made out of the tons of groceries that I would shop for every month, only to toss them out the next. I wanted him to sit with me as we did everything and nothing at all. 

But I could not be selfish with him. 

And so, I softly tried to shake him up awake, “Joon, it is almost morning”.

Groggily, he replied, “What is the time?”.

“It is almost 5″.

At that, he immediately opened his eyes and jolted himself awake- getting up and searching for his clothes. Like routine, I got up from my place and helped him, handing him his shirt as he slipped on his pants. I watched him get ready, mask in place and a dark baseball cap lowered on his head, covering most of his face. Through the entire commotion, he had not spared me a single glance. If he had, he would know that with each article of clothing that he draped on himself, I felt like he was ripping it off me till I was completely unsheltered and cold.

When he was finally dressed, he slipped on his coat and made his way to the backdoor and I tiptoed behind him, opening the door before he could to check if anyone was outside. The area of my house was secluded and not many celebrities lived there either hence, we both barely went to Namjoon’s place. Like always, no one was around and I nodded at Namjoon. 

That is when he finally noticed, me and all the giveaways of a disturbed night in my eyes. He knew what was the cause of this and I saw him try to form words that would offer me some comfort. The great Namjoon, who would write meaningful lyrics on a spur and give speeches on massive platforms seemed so vulnerable, standing at my backdoor trying to wonder if words could be of any help and a part of me ached for him. 

I reached forwards, clinging to his massive body, my neck wounding around his neck, inhaling him. “I know”, I whispered in his ear and felt his arms tighten around me. The embrace did not last long and he kissed me one last time before he ran towards the street where he knew his driver would be waiting for him. 

Once he disappeared from my sight, I closed the door and slipped to the floor. The house suddenly felt vacant, even I felt vacant without his arms to touch me and his fingers to graze mine. 

I knew he was going through the same turmoil. When we both had gotten together, we knew it was not going to be easy but we both were prepared to adapt to however the circumstances would be. But after five years of hiding and sneaking, horrible rumors and no sight of any change in our situation in the near future had made us question how long could we keep this up for. I was exhausted and so was he. We would have pulled back a long time ago had not we been crippled by our feelings for each other. 

While the distance would torture us, it was during our breaks and vacations where everything would fall back into place and we would be reminded why we chose this. But I wonder now if those days of peace are worth breaking a piece of me every time he leaves.

*****

“Namjoon, is everything okay?”

Yoongi and Jin had watched for quite some time that Namjoon was disturbed. As the leader, he would barely show any signs of pain or weakness but it was quite evident that he was not in the right state of mind. Not to mention, his songs were now melancholic and painful, as if saying what he could not utter himself. 

“Of course”, Namjoon said a little too quickly and Jin quickly interrupted, “Don’t even try. We won’t believe you. So why don’t you just tell us”.

Namjoon lowered his head, finally letting the weight on his shoulders crush him and his hands  came to cover his face. 

“Is it Y/N?”, Jin asked hesitantly and Namjoon could not help but let out a sarcastic laugh. “I wish it was. I really wish it was her who was screaming and fighting with me about our situation. I wish she would stop opening whenever I knock on that damn door. Instead she lets me watch as she gets hurt everyday”, he was now screaming but he did not care. “You know how many times I met her in the last six months?”, not awaiting an answer, he continued, “Not once unless it was to stand at her backdoor at midnight so I could kiss her and sleep with her because I am scared that without these asshole-ish reminders of us, she will up and leave.” 

The room stayed silent when he stopped speaking, the only sounds audible were of his heavy breathing as he tried to compose himself. 

“She deserves better than a late night rendezvous. This is the woman I have loved for years for fuck’s sake!”.

“Namjoon, you people are not in an easy situation”, Jin tried speaking, “these few hours are all you both can afford and we know that it is difficult but this woman is enduring all this for you, for this relationship that you both have. How about this? As soon as we are done with the promotional activities, take her somewhere”. 

“And after that, hyung? Back to this?”, the question rendered Jin speechless. 

The room was quiet again. 

“Announce it”.

Yoongi was the one to break the silence. 

“What?”, Namjoon asked, genuinely confused. 

Yoongi sat straighter, leaning a bit more towards the younger one who sat across him. 

“Announce your relationship with Y/N. Whatever happens, we will handle it. I know that the general public does not like her a lot but most of our fans will be fine with it. About the rest, we will manage it. How long will the anger stay?”, Yoongi was talking as if it was the easiest thing in the world and the person in question stared at him like had lost his mind. 

“It is not that easy...”, Namjoon spoke up but was interrupted by the oldest. “Yoongi is right. Five years and on your way to the sixth. You people have endured enough and I know that you both deserve a fair chance at happiness. You know that so many people have dumped us because of the life we live but she has stood by you through it. It is high time that we all do this for her. And for you.”

“But...”

“No buts. I know that you cannot imagine losing her so it is not like we are making a casual relationship public. Just trust us. We will handle everything.”

Namjoon knew in his head that all this was easier said than done but as his older members kept talking, he could not help but accept that this was the right thing to do. You deserved more than just being fucked by your boyfriend in the late hours of the night and then left all alone. You did not deserve to have BTS pass you by in public because you were controversial when behind closed doors, you would share homemade meals and inside jokes. 

It was not going to be easy, but he would do it. For you. For him. But little did he know, that his well kept secret would soon be revealed to the world, but not in the way he could have ever anticipated. Not in a way that would forever end what you both had. 

[zodiyack]

True Colors

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Warnings: Neil abusing Billy, vulnerable!Billy, soft!Billy, fluff, sexual references because we’re describing Billy here, swearing, lyrics

Song: True Colors by Cyndi Lauper (Cover Version by Anna Kendrick and Justin Timberlake)

Note: I don’t know if this has already been done, but I think of Billy when I hear this, so let’s go. | Lyrics = Bold + Italic | Memories = Italic

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

You with the sad eyes. Don't be discouraged. Oh I realize, It's hard to take courage. In a world full of people, You can lose sight of it all. The darkness inside you, Can make you feel so small

Neil grunted, throwing Billy into the wall. Susan held her hands over Max’s eyes, protecting her from seeing her stepbrother and stepfather fight. Max knew it was happening, she knew what it sounded like. What it looked like. She’d seen a tear escape Billy’s eye after one before. Unfortunately, Billy bullied her for knowing what happened. He thought she pitted him. He thought she thought he was weak just like his dad did. And for Susan...well she didn’t do anything but watch with fear. She didn’t step in like a mother would. It made Billy agitated. His mother would’ve stopped Neil. 

His head hit his pillow and his eyes closed. Trying ever so hard to forget about the words his father spoke. Failing to free his mind from the insults and swears that poured out of his father’s mouth, he growled and turned over. His eyes opened and he decided to think of something else. California. His mother. Anything. He felt so weak. Just as weak as his father claimed he was. Tears escaped Billy’s eyes at the thought of everyone finding out his fears and insecurities. Would his mother find him weak? Of course she wouldn’t...but Billy didn’t know that.

Tommy and Carol were pretty much cackling after Billy shoved a freshman into a locker. He was mad, taking his anger out on another human being just like his father did. He wanted to prove to everyone that he wasn’t weak, that he wasn’t the pussy his dad accused him of being. No matter what happened or what he did, Billy still felt weak. The girls he brought home praised him, and he loved it. People at school brought his confidence back up when they cheered him on in fights. So, Billy did what Billy did best. He slept with random girls and brawled at school. Even if Neil broke his self esteem all over again, it was the only way he would get it the attention he wanted.

Show me a smile then, Don't be unhappy. Can't remember when, I last saw you laughing. This world makes you crazy, And you've taken all you can bear. Just, call me up, 'Cause I will always be there

There was one person that Billy could practically milk compliments from was his true best friend. Y/n L/n. She was always there for him in fights, awaiting his command or permission to join in. They shared laughs, hugs, happy tears while watching cheesy movies, and good memories. Even so, he never noticed it when she would avoid him every time where was a girl by his side. 

To be completely honest; no one noticed. She was basically invisible to everyone except for him. It wasn’t her fault, she really did try to make friends and get noticed by humanity. Billy only originally realized she existed because no one else did. What he didn’t know, was that the day that he started talking to her was the day her life officially started.

Bumping into people and stumbling over her own feet, y/n raced to get to class. She was five minutes late, she didn’t actually care- but her family did. It was crowded in the halls, as per usual, and that meant it would take longer to get to her class. ‘Why not ditch at this point.’ She agreed with her thoughts and sat down against the nearest wall, closing her eyes and drifting into wherever her imagination took her.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing by herself?” Y/n’s head snapped to where the voice came from. A handsome blonde teen leaned against the opposite wall. He had a curly mullet, and his tight denim jeans were hugging his legs. Her eyes traveled up his body, glancing at his unbuttoned shirt, then at his half smirk.

“Me?” There was no possible way a man that gorgeous was talking to her. Y/n denied the very thought. No one talked to her. Not even Nancy, who everyone thought was an angel and a nice girl. His nod went against her theory, making her furrow her eyebrows and tilt her head. “Why? No one does.”

“Well why would that happen? Did you scare ‘em or somethin’?” 

She shook her head and looked down, sighing. “No. I’m just unnoticed here. The teachers don’t even know who I am half the time.”

“Well, I’ll be the first person to notice you. I’m Billy. Billy Hargrove.”

“I know... I’m Y/n L/n.” The bell rang and startled Y/n. Billy chuckled and walked over to the young girl.

“See you around, Y/n L/n.”

And he did. After many days of getting to know each other, she approached him with the sweets she made in home ec. He didn’t know why, but it was different. No one really gave Billy Hargrove gifts. Why? He was Billy fucking Hargrove. Emphasis on the “fucking.” He didn’t do feelings. He did girls. He didn’t eat treats. He ate pussy. He didn’t accept gifts unless it was a girl’s virginity. So when the popular Hawkins King ate one of them and thanked her; it was a surprise for everyone.

She watched him fight. One day, she even threw a punch at a jock named Theo after he had given Billy a nasty cut. To say it amazed Billy would be an understatement. That shit was hot and the only people who witnessed it were Theo and Billy. Billy had a small crush on her for a bit. Alas, reality knocked on his door when he remembered that he only did girls and then left them. He couldn’t just do her and then continue being her best friend. He wasn’t that evil.

Little did he know, his point of not being evil wasn’t proved to Y/n. To her, it was so incredibly evil that he robbed her of being able to see an actual smile on his face, full of real joy and laughter. She knew the difference between fake and real happiness. All she wanted, was to see the genuine side of him. Not the Billy that could give a good fucking, not the Billy that would see his bloodied and bruised knuckles as his trophy, but the Billy that was somewhere deep down hidden under his many masks.

And I see your true colors, Shining through- I see your true colors, And that's why I love you. So don't be afraid, to let them show; Your true colors, True colors are beautiful!

Billy clung to Y/n, crying into her shoulder as she rubbed his back. She didn’t know why he was crying, but she was there for him and she would always be. The friends didn’t move for a while. Even when it was almost midnight, they just sat there, Billy’s head resting on Y/n. She whispered soft positive things to him as she combed her fingers through his curls. It was nice, the two of them quiet, calm, and alone together.

You would probably guess that he did this often, seeing her reaction and how he would never cry in front of another person. But that, sadly, is nowhere near accurate. Even Y/n was surprised to see Billy knock at her door instead of her window, a small bruise on his cheek. She rushed him up to her room and took care of him. Neither of them had spoken a word since he showed up, the silence didn’t affect them though.

The teens never spoke about it. Billy showed up more and more, with bruises worse and worse. A normal best friend would ask what happened nonstop, but she was his best friend. And being his best friend meant that your relationship with him was not normal. It meant that you weren’t normal. It meant that you had a heart that could love someone like Billy Hargrove. And as a person with a heart like that, she took care of him and didn’t persist that he tell her what happened. She asked once and he told her he didn’t want to talk about it, so she stopped asking.

He appreciated the confidentiality she let him keep. Billy promised himself that one day, he’d prove himself not weak to her by telling her the truth of his life. He would let her see the true parts of him...when he was ready. And hopefully that was soon, because his hurt and suffering was affecting her. She loved him, and it brought her great pain to see the person she loved struggle.

The silence was soon broken by Billy. “Can I stay the night?”

Y/n winced at the sound of his voice being scratchy and full of sorrow. She was calm again after he sat up and grabbed her face with one hand, turning it towards his. “Of course, anytime Billy.”

I see your true colors, Shining through (true colors). I see your true colors; And that's why I love you. So don't be afraid, to let them show. Your true colors, True colors are beautiful! Like a rainbow, Ooh ooh ooh, like a rainbow

“Y/n?” She sat up and rubbed her eyes. 

It was the day after Billy stayed the night for the first time. They didn’t move from their position after he put his head back on her shoulder, Billy waking up as the sun rose in the blue sky outside Y/n’s window. He looked around, panicking inside as this was not his room. His memories of the night before came flooding into his head, of the silent moment he shared with his best friend. Of the thoughts that he had while they sat in tranquility. Today was the day he’d tell her.

Y/n and Billy’s eyes closed. Whispers of goodnight were not made, instead, the two fell back onto the bed. The night was calm as the stars danced in the night sky. Though they were unconscious, Billy and Y/n’s hands inched towards each others, intertwining with smiles on their faces.

When he was fully awake, Billy didn’t wake Y/n up. Instead he watched her for a moment. She slept peacefully, cuddling the pillow that replaced Billy’s body. A small smile was on her face, making a genuine one appear on Billy’s. He left the room, letting her sleep. The boy couldn’t cook if his life depended on it, but he gave it his all, bringing a tray with her favorite breakfast on it.

“While we’re on the topic of food, I could go for some y/f/r (your favorite restaurant). I really love y/f/b, it’s amazing! Have you ever had it?” The h/c girl was beaming with excitement. On the other hand, Billy was staring at the girl in front of them. “Oh. You’re not even listening. Why am I not surprised.”

“Huh? Yeah we can go to...”

“Y/f/r. Billy you’re obviously distracted right now. Are you alright?”

“Yes Y/n. I’m absolutely fine. I’m sorry, let’s just go, okay?”

“Okay...”

Rubbing her arm, he said her name softly. Her eyes fluttered open, taking Billy’s breath away. She glanced over to the food tray, looking back up at him with confusion. “You..remembered?” He nodded and set the tray down, giving her a kiss on her forehead. “I thought you weren’t paying attention that day.”

“I was. I just didn’t completely register it until now. I didn’t register a lot of things until last night...” Y/n tilted her head at his words. She took a sip of y/f/d, waiting for him to continue. Sitting down, he did so, “Those bruises are..from my dad. I’m a shit person, and I know it. I just refuse to admit it. I think I’m weak..but what makes me weak is letting everyone tell me that I am so much that I end up believing it.” He inhaled, looking at her and grabbing her hand that was resting on her lap. “But you- you help me. You do all these things and I was too caught up in false pride to see them... I need to say something, promise me that our friendship won’t change if I say it?”

Y/n nodded and squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I promise.”

“I love you Y/n L/n. I have for the longest time, I just was too blind and too much of an asshole to realize it.”

Billy waited for her response. This silence had the opposite feeling of last night’s. He was about to give in, say it was a joke, until she finally spoke up. “You’re not an asshole Billy. you showed your true self to me, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. You told me the truth, and that takes a lot of strength. I love both of those things about you. And I love you more than them.”

True Colors - Cyndi Lauper / Anna Kendrick & Justin Timberlake

[hmsjiara]

glitter's sparklin on your heart now, darling (jj + kie)

request by @rcsales: prompts for Jiara!!: 74. “Why don’t you just sit there and look pretty?”, 80. “How do you get your skin to be so soft?” and 92. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”

i figured i should write something fluffy after my last one shot lol, and i aso wanted to write something for pride so here you go :) hope you like it, thank you for the request!

read it here on ao3.

                                      •••

“Are you sure we should be doing this?”

Now, that was a first. JJ, who just last week had done a wheelie with his motorcycle off of the dock at the Chateau, telling Kiara she was being reckless.

“JJ, you endanger your life on a day-to-day basis,” Kiara says, rolling her eyes. “Going to a pride rally is the safest activity you’ve done all week.”

“No, it’s just— I mean won’t your parents be pissed?” He asks, frowning at her from the passenger seat. “I heard your mom— she didn’t sound happy.”

When Kiara had come out as pansexual, her parents had been... supportive. They’d smiled and nodded and said that’s nice, sweetheart. But apparently, her attending a pride rally was taking it a step too far. It had escalated into a screaming match the night before, the gist being it’s fine to like girls, but talking about it publicly is crossing a line. She’d ignored it, because her parents reputations weren’t her concern, but JJ always got weird around shit like this. She’d explained it to him already: parents got mad at their kids, that was normal, they weren’t going to disown her over it.

“It’ll be fine,” she tells him, looking over her shoulder as she backs her car up. It was well past midnight— she had decided it would be best to leave while her parents were asleep. The parade started at eleven in the morning, so she’d booked them a room at a nearby hotel. This way, she could avoid an awkward confrontation with her mother, and they’d be able to get an earlier start the next day. JJ had texted her when he was in her driveway, and she’d crept downstairs with her pre-packed bag and grabbed her keys. She’d parked her car around the corner from her house as a precaution.

Kiara had worked herself up so much trying to figure out how to tell the Pogues that she was pan that their reaction to her whiskey-triggered, blurted confession while they were chilling on the hammocks at the Chateau had been somewhat anticlimactic.

John B had smiled, told her it was cool and passed her a joint, and that was that. Pope blinked once, as if downloading the information into his brain, and then nodded like it made perfect sense. JJ, however, had frowned and said, “Pansexual? What? Did you have like a giant crush on Peter Pan as a child?”

“No, JJ,” she’d said, trying to sound annoyed even as she gave him a fond roll of her eyes. “It means that I’m attracted to people based on who they are, not what’s between their legs.”

“Oh, well we knew that,” he said, shrugging, his eyes glazed and hazy from the alcohol and weed as he stared at her. “So, what I’m gathering is... this means that  even though you were macking on that Kook chic last week at the Boneyard, I still have a chance?”

Pope had shoved him out of the hammock, and JJ had fallen to the ground with a grunt. John B threw a towel at his head, but Kiara just laughed, rolled her eyes.

It was the usual JJ pigheadedness she was used to, but she had felt strangely comforted by it in that moment. She’d been so afraid they’d treat her differently, but the Pogues had acted like her announcing her sexuality was barely news at all.

It was a nice change from her parents, and even though JJ’s initial reaction had been utterly idiotic, since then he’d been nothing but supportive.

So, when Kiara mentioned that she was going to her first Pride alone, he’d volunteered to come and keep her company.

It was sweet, the kind of gesture JJ was prone to masking with cocky remarks and his usual deflections surrounding anything to do with emotions.

Either way, JJ certainly makes the trip more entertaining. It’s late, and the drive would normally be boring and lonely, but he hooks up her phone to the aux and blasts her Pride playlist. He keeps flipping through the songs, unable to choose one, but he finally settles on Born This Way by Lady Gaga.

JJ’s carpool karaoke is actually impressive— he can sing, which she knew, but there’s something about him screaming Gaga lyrics that makes Kiara’s heart jump. Then, Vogue by Madonna comes on, and he rolls down the window and starts screaming the words at passing cars. She has to tell him to stop, uses driver veto power to roll up the window, because he’s distracting, and she doesn’t want to start the weekend off by getting in a car crash.

The drive is already three hours long, but JJ insists that they stop for Taco Bell even though he’s already had dinner, claiming that it’s the least she can do, which Kiara finds ironic since he was the one who offered to come with her.

Their arrival at the hotel is just as chaotic as she expected. Kiara checks them in, her duffel bag on JJ’s shoulder as he whispers comments in her ear about the lobby’s patrons. She has to swat his hand away from the candy bowl, gives the receptionist a slightly manic, apologetic smile.

The woman’s own smile seems genuine, and as she hands them their keys she shakes her head and says, “I hope it’s not too forward, but you two make an adorable couple.”

Kiara opens her mouth to correct her, but JJ throws an arm around her shoulders and steers her away from the desk before she can protest.

“You hear that, Kie?” He asks as they wait for the elevator to arrive, his arm still on her shoulders, his breath warm against her ear. “She thinks we make a cute couple.”

She shoves him away from her, threatens to lock him out of the hotel room as a punishment. He pulls the key card from his pocket, somehow having swiped it from her, and she regrets it instantly when he presses every elevator button in retaliation. She tries to stop him, but he blocks her with an arm, and Kiara refuses to jump to reach the card he’s now holding above his head.

Instead, she moves to the other side of the elevator and pretends to be pissed, giving him the silent treatment.

JJ starts apologizing by the seventh floor, and is looking throughly ashamed by the tenth. She considers it a job well done, but his embarrassment only lasts for the duration of the elevator ride, and he’s racing her to the room when the door opens.

She swears traveling with JJ is like traveling with a five-year-old. Actually, the five year old would likely be better behaved. And she can’t put JJ in time-out if he annoys her.

Kiara had purchased the hotel room before she’d known JJ was coming, upgraded it to two beds when he’d told her. She’d convinced him it was too much of a hassle to split the bill, reminded him he was technically doing her a favor by coming and she should get the chance to repay it. The truth was, she had more than enough money, and she wasn’t going to let him spend his limited amount of cash on an expensive hotel room. It wasn’t like she required this kind of shit, she would have been just as content staying in a trashy motel, this was just safer and closer to the parade.

Still, when they enter the room, with it’s two queen beds and an en suite bathroom, the floor to ceiling windows showing a view of the city below, the PNC Plaza towering above the other buildings, and JJ goes quiet, she understands it’s because he’s never been in a place like this before.

He seems almost unsure of himself and some people might consider it embarrassing, but to be honest Kiara finds it endearing. He asks her which bed was his, and when she tells him he can pick, he beams at her like a child who’s just been given a free lollipop. He flops down on the bed by the window, his boots hitting the white sheets, and Kiara knows that her mother would faint if she saw it.

She had assumed that they would both be tired from the drive, but JJ is as restless as ever, unable to sit still as he examines every part of the room. She takes a shower while he explores, has to forbid him from going to the hotel pool at four am when he asks through the door, reminds him that they have to be up by nine.

JJ had rolled his eyes when she told him, said it was unnecessary to leave two hours before the parade started, but when she came out he was still lying on his bed, scrolling through Instagram on his phone.

She’s brushing her hair when he says, “Do we have signs?”

“What?” She asks, frowning at him.

JJ looks at her, eyebrows raised. “Did you seriously forget to bring signs? Isn’t that like the one thing you bring to a parade?”

Kiara stays silent, and he seems to understand that it‘s an admission of guilt. Okay, so she was bound to forget something, this just happened to be it.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, sighing as he grabs her keys off of the the table and starts typing something into his phone.

“Where are you—“

“Don’t worry about it.”

Kiara wants to tell him that she has to worry, because it involves him, but he‘s gone before she can say anything.

She shakes her head, resigned to the fact that JJ is almost an adult and that she can’t really control him. Even if the idea of her reckless friend driving her car to an unknown location in the middle of the night makes her nervous.

She decides to try and relax, changing into one of the hotels fluffy bathrobes and applying a sparkly face mask while JJ isn’t there to tease her about it.

When she hears the lock click, she’s lying in bed, making a list for the morning on her phone.

JJ bursts through the door, and it takes her a second to comprehend the sight of him with an armful of colored paper, glitter, and markers.

“What did you do?”

“Posters,” he says with a shrug, as if that explains it. “I went to a drug store to get supplies, since you were unprepared. ‘Cmon, Kie, get your ass over here.”

It was the same quiet, subtle consideration that had made him come with her, and Kiara had always admired that about JJ— his life was hell, but he hadn’t let that damage his character, his natural instinct to help the people he cared about.

So, she pats the spot beside her on the bed, let’s JJ lay out his supplies, and spends the next two hours telling him to put caps on markers and fighting over tubes of rainbow glitter.

She ends up making her sign the colors of the pan flag, writes the words Pan and Proud on it. JJ is strangely secretive about his, and she starts to get nervous when he is hiding it from her, but she smiles when he turns and she sees the words Hearts Not Parts written out in different shades of glitter.

He grins at her reaction, starts searching for a marker to sign his name, and she has a moment where she is studying him: lounging beside her in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, blonde curls mussed from running his fingers through his hair, his lips between his teeth as he focuses on writing his name, and she thinks about how easy it would be to lean over and press her lips to his.

But she ignores that urge, excuses herself to the bathroom and splashes cold water on her face, and when she returns JJ is in his own bed, finally ready to go to sleep.

The bed seems colder without him, but she resists the desire to ask him to join her again. Because they were just friends, and she wasn’t going to ruin the weekend by being selfish.

The problem, ironically, she thinks as she stares at his sign, is that JJ’s heart is exactly what’s made her like him so damn much.

                                     •••

The next morning is more hectic than she wanted it to be, but with JJ, she should have expected it.

Kiara had built an extra hour into their schedule just for this purpose, but she sleeps through her alarm and wakes up thirty minutes before the parade starts.

She trips on JJ’s discarded boots when she stumbles out of bed, swears as she almost face-plants on the hotel floor, shakes JJ a little harder than necessary to wake him up.

They end up sharing the bathroom as they’re getting ready, and Kiara complains about the steam from his shower ruining her hair, yells at him for getting in her way. JJ is still ready twenty minutes before her, and he lays on the bed while she’s panicking, infuriatingly calm.

Kiara’s so flustered that she forgets her car keys, but JJ grabs them, pushes the elevator button with a pointed look at her wedged heels.

Okay, so they’re not the most parade appropriate attire, but at least they’re cute. Kiara’s shirt, which reads easily distracted by all genders, is tucked into her jean skirt, and her hair is braided with rainbow beads,  her eyeshadow a blended version of the colors in the pan flag.

She spent a good deal of time selecting her outfit, but when she gets to the car, she realizes that she’s overlooked one crucial thing: JJ.

Besides the sign, there’s nothing to distinguish him as a member of Pride, so she insists on pulling out her glitter when they’ve arrived at the parade and parked on the side of the street.

She thought he would refuse, but JJ just says he’ll do it if he can do hers as well. She agrees, and then they’re brushing rainbow glitter on each other’s cheeks, leaning over the console so that their faces are inches apart. JJ keeps moving, tapping his fingers against the seat, bouncing his legs, reaching up to itch his nose so that Kiara has to swat his hand away.

She just tries not to think about his fingers on her face, how the blue glitter on his cheeks makes his eyes pop.

JJ is adorably focused, eyes narrowed as he applies the glitter, and then he says, “How do you get your skin to be so soft?”

Kiara shivers as he brushes a finger over her cheekbone, as if he can’t help himself. “It’s called moisturizer, JJ,” she explains, smirking at him as she starts to list all of the skincare products she uses. JJ loses interest soon enough, applying a little more blue and pink glitter and then declaring that his work is finished.

To her surprise, they make it to the parade with time to spare. It was as if a rainbow had exploded on the streets of the city, everyone was carrying signs and laughing and dancing and getting brightly-colored drinks from the stands lining the sides of the road. The sun is shining above, and Kiara starts looking at the UV index on her phone, tries to make JJ put on sunscreen. He refuses, says it will mess with the glitter, let’s out a cry of outrage when she presses dollops of it onto his cheeks anyway.

She thought he would be uncomfortable surrounded by all of it, but JJ seems perfectly at ease, studying their surroundings with genuine interest and curiosity. They buy drinks from the vendors who barely glance at Kiara’s fake ID, which makes sense since the alcohol is basically water compared to what the Pogues ingest on a daily basis.

A few people compliment their signs, and music is blasting from the speakers, and Kiara finds that she’s actually able to relax, laughing as JJ spins her around with an arm.

They get food from the trucks, JJ buying anything with the word meat in it while she opts for fish tacos. He chugs from the water bottle she brought them, the one he insisted they didn’t need, makes Kiara do a Jell-O shot.

It escalates from there, until they end up at a bar, exhausted and sun-soaked, and Kiara takes off her heels and rests her sore legs on JJ’s lap under the bar while he orders them drinks. He claims the beer will help with the ache in her feet, and it does, because thirty minutes later Kiara has pulled him away from the bar and onto the dance floor. They’re both a few drinks in at this point, and although Kiara hates it, her weight means she gets drunk faster than he does, so she’s reasonably tipsy.

It’s a blur of laughter and bright colors and rainbow face paint, all writhing limbs and bodies bumping hers. Someone calls for shots, and Kiara screams at the top of her lungs, slips her hand into JJ’s and raises their arms into the air.

Eventually, a girl with a warm smile and tan skin, her blonde curls dyed pink, grabs Kiara’s hand and starts dancing with her, hips rolling and tongue out between purple-lipstick painted lips. JJ just watches them without commenting, sips from his drink, raises his eyebrows when Kiara starts grinding on her.

The girl tugs her towards the bar, and Kiara follows, tells JJ where she’s going over her shoulder.

“Kie,” he whines, pouting at her. “What am I supposed to do? Just stand here while you go hook up with her in the bathroom?”

“Why don’t you just sit there and look pretty?”

He glares at her as she shoots a pointed look at the glitter on his face, but Kiara just laughs, leaves him standing in the middle of the dance floor.

She returns a few minutes later, a purple lipstick print on her cheek, and JJ pretends to be pissed at her, gives her the cold shoulder as the girl lays her arms on Kiara’s shoulders and starts swaying her hips.

But then a boy with black shorts and no shirt appears, a rainbow painted on his chest, screaming as he runs his hands through his brown curls and knocks back a shot of tequila. He’s obviously hammered, but it doesn’t make it any less hilarious when he wraps an arm around JJ and hugs him, presses a kiss to his cheek. “You’re adorable,” he whispers in his ear, nuzzling into JJ’s neck. “Wanna fuck?”

“Uh, no, er, I’m good thanks—“

Both Kiara and the girl she’s dancing with start cackling as the boy stumbles away, giggling at JJ’s dumbstruck expression.

Kiara throws herself at him, wraps her arms around his neck, the buzz from the tequila allowing her to whisper the words wanna fuck? in his ear.

He doesn’t push her away like she thought he would, instead he tugs her closer and let’s her take a sip of his drink, press a kiss to his cheek.

In fact, after that, they don’t stop touching.

JJ stands behind her at the bar to keep people from bumping into her, and Kiara sits on his lap when they return to their seats, clings to his hand when they eventually stumble from the bar and into an Uber. They’ll pick up her car tomorrow, she thinks faintly, when the world stops spinning.

Kiara has rainbow glitter in her hair and her feet feel like they’re about to fall off her body, but her chest is filled with this strange, warm feeling that only grows when she rests her head on JJ’s shoulder and says, “Thank you.”

“For what?” He asks, glancing at her, his blue eyes heavy with exhaustion and alcohol, his voice softer than usual.

“For this,” she tells him, gesturing to herself, the signs at their feet. “For today. For always accepting me for who I am.”

It’s cheesy, and they don’t do cheesy, but she’s drunk and JJ doesn’t seem to mind as he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Always, Kie. You don’t have to worry about that.”

[qwigoqwaga2]

Random GNR Fun Facts

@motley-queen Anyone please feel free to add to this and correct anything that's incorrect. -Slash really likes snakes. He had two named Clyde and Cranston that were mentioned on the Appetite for Destruction liner notes. -Axl gave Steven the nickname 'Popcorn' when introducing him at their concert at the Ritz in 1988 because of the way his hair bounced around while he played. -Steven loves pugs. -Axl recorded Appetite for Destruction line by line. -GNR used to be friends with Mötley Crüe and one of their first big tours was opening for them during their Girls, Girls, Girls tour. -Axl and Izzy are both kind of reclusive, so they didn't hang out with the Crüe much. I believe Steven and Nikki are still friends now. You may have noticed in the Dirt movie Slash and Steven were present at the gathering where Nikki died. -One time Steven got kicked out of a bar for being too drunk and he got mad an punched a light and broke his hand so he couldn't play and Fred Coury from Cinderella had to fill in for him for a while. -Axl was late to their label signing. The band spent a long time looking for him and eventually found him on the roof, meditating. -Axl's feud with Vince Neil happened because Izzy had made an inappropriate comment about Vince's wife, Sharise. Axl decided he had to get involved and defend his bandmate. Izzy apologized to Vince afterward, but Axl and Vince kept threatening to fight each other but never did. -An early friend of the band (maybe Barbie Von Grief) said that Axl talks a lot about people who've hurt him, which is why he spent so much time badmouthing Slash after Slash quit. -Axl and Izzy are actually country hicks from Indiana. -In the albume liner notes for Use Your Illusion they have "fuck you St. Louis" in reference to the St. Louis riot. During Rocket Queen, there was a guy with a camera who was taunting Axl and Axl told the security to take the camera and they didn't, so he launched himself into the crowd to take it himself. He then got back on stage and announced "thanks to the lameass security, I'm going home" and smashed the microphone on the ground and left. Fans rioted because the show was cut short and Axl was blamed and GNR was banned from playing St. Louis again. There's video of this incident. -All of them abused drugs, but Steven had the worst problem. It got to the point where the rest of the band wanted to kick him out because he couldn't clean up his act, but they didn't have an explicit reason to. The last concert they played together was Farm Aid in 1990. Steven tripped and fell while coming onstage. They did two songs, Civil War, which was new and they had only rehearsed it in the studio a few times, and a UK Subs cover Down On the Farm, which Steven had never heard before. Duff clapped the beat for him and Steven managed to play the song (well enough that I wouldn't have known he'd never heard it). He happened to be going through a period of trying to get clean (which, like Nikki Sixx he tried and failed many many times before finally getting clean in 2010) and he was super sick from withdrawal when they fired him. They made him come in to record Civil War and he could barely get through the song (the final version of his part had to be heavily edited to be a cohesive song) because he was so sick. They claimed it was evidence that he was too jacked up to be in the band and fired him. -Axl was married twice. Once to Erin Everly, who Sweet Child O' Mine is about, and once to Stephanie Seymour who appeared in the November Rain music video (I believe that's where they started dating) and likely many of the songs on Chinese Democracy are about her (and/or Slash). In both relationships, they were abusive to each other. -I believe it was Stephanie that Axl proposed to by threatening to shoot himself if she didn't marry him. -The bromance is strong in this band. Slash/Axl, Slash/Steven, Slash/Duff, Duff/Steven, and Axl/Izzy were all BFF pairs. -Axl and Izzy were actually BFFs from school. Steven and Slash were too. They met when Steven fell off his skateboard and Slash came and asked if he was ok. -Axl's singing career began as a child when he sang in the church choir. -Welcome to the Jungle was written about when Axl left home and went to New York City (it might have been LA, but I think it was NYC the first time) and got off the bus and as he tells it in the intro from the Ritz '88 concert "this little old black man comes up to me and my friend with our backpacks and about ten bucks between us and he goes, 'do you know where you are? you're in the jungle, baby, you're gonna die!" -Axl wanted real sex sounds for Rocket Queen, so that's him and Steven's girlfriend Adrianna (which Steven was pissed about). -Their first tour together was known as the Hell Tour. Duff had a band with some shows scheduled up in Seattle (where he's from) so they were going to play them but their car broke down and they had to hitchike there and leave all their equipment behind. -They at one point lived in what was essentially a garage with a loft. -Axl has bipolar disorder and is generally a very intense person. He's described as both a huge asshole and an incredibly sweet, caring guy. He's also actually very quiet and shy. -For example, one time when Steven overdosed and was in the hospital, Axl was the only one who came to visit him. -One time Axl was with some girls and wanted to go to one of Mötley Crüe's parties, but he was too shy to ask so he sent the girls and Nikki decided to let the girls in but not Axl just to be a dick. -The start of the whole "Axl is a control-freak dictator" thing is from when they toured with the Rolling Stones. Axl was so impressed with how the Stone's tour was such a well-oiled machine and he wanted GNR to be like that (I think it was GNR that Metallica said they learned everything what not to do from touring with GNR). Suposedly Axl forced Slash and Duff to sign away all the rights to everything GNR to Axl or else he refused to go on stage. They quit shortly after that. -Freddie Mercury and Elton John were Axl's idols (hence all the grandiose piano songs). -At Donington in 1988, two fans were killed during their set. That show is where some of the footage for the Paradise City music video comes from. The band didn't find out until afterward and they were devestated. The crowd had been rowdy and they could see people were getting injured and Axl had been trying to get the crowd to calm down, but the two bodies weren't found until after the show (it had been raining so much it was super muddy and they were partially buried in the mud). -Izzy is basically a recluse and no one knows where he is or what he's doing. But he does have a solo career. I don't think he ever wanted to be in a band as big as GNR became. -Slash and Duff founded Velvet Revolver together. Sebastian Bach auditioned, but they rejected him because they said they sounded like Skid Roses (so they went with Scott Weiland and sounded like Stone Temple Roses instead). -The first ideas for the music for November Rain came to Axl while he was on a bus in the early-mid 80s. -They didn't used to have a setlist. Axl would just pick songs based on the mood of the crowd. During the Use Your Illusion tour this meant that all the backing musicians and dancers had to be just waiting backstage for their song to be announced. -Axl threw ridiculously extravagant afterparties on the Use Your Illusion tour. -Slash proposed the original lyrics for Paradise City: "where the girls are cute and they've got big titties" -Right Next Door to Hell was written about Axl's neighbor who claimed that he attacked her with a wine bottle and there was a lengthy legal battle about it. -They were an overnight sensation basically. The Welcome to the Jungle music video was played on MTV at midnight or 3am or something ridiculous but fans loved it so much they kept calling in and asking for it to be played again. -They used to be glam in their early days. Steven argued against it became the makeup would run in his eyes while playing.

[bloodline-rpg]

Congratulations, Bigby! We have accepted your application for your OC, Tyler Orville (FC  Dane Dehaan) Please create a new blog (not a sideblog) for your character and send us the link via ask box as soon as you can. Along with your link, please let us know what lyric you’d like for us to use for Tyler in his bio if you do not wish to use the one on the skeleton. Welcome to Bloodline!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/Alias: Bigby

Age: Twenty-Six (twenty-seven as of jan 26, 2020!).

Preferred pronouns: they/them

Timezone: est

Level of activity (don’t give your activity a number value, please describe how active you will be as best as possible): I work full-time midnight shifts from 11:30pm - 7:30 am. I am gone from the house from 10:30 pm until 8:30 am. I do not get online in my “mornings” but after work I’m usually on for a couple hours before bed. This is/would be my only rp group so I can devote my free time and attention to it outside of regular adult responsibilities. That being said, I do have regular access to tumblr IM and discord while away for plotting and keeping in touch/up to date.

CHARACTER DETAILS

(The Resurrected skeleton).

Character’s Name: Tyler Orville

Desired FC: Dane Dehaan

Character’s Age: Twenty-Seven

Character’s Species: Immortal Witch

Character’s Sexuality: Bisexual

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

Tyler lived a fractured childhood. Fragmented moments glimpsed of a possibility, at something forever out of reach. He was born sick. Sick in an ever changing way, as if the unnamed disease that ravaged his body was more than such, as if the very illness were alive. He was their first child born following two miscarriages, two elder siblings he’d never know and he couldn’t help but think bitterly that whatever awful thing nested within his being had been the root cause of their deaths.

Francine Calhoun, his mother came from a long, long line of original witches; the kind of old blood that prided themselves on their lineage so much so that inbreeding had been commonplace in generation’s past. Her courtship and subsequent marriage the kind of witch that barely qualified as a witch. The kind of witch, that if it were a mere man and nothing more; would only go to church on Easter and Christmas and call themselves a devout Christian.  In fact, Teddy Orville hadn’t been much of a witch for the last several years; a decade even, outside of the odd potion infused tea to help during the university crunch before exams anyway.

Much of Tyler’s life was spent in hospitals. Moved from one doctor’s appointment to the next; a seemingly endless stream of doctors approaching his case with first fresh faced enthusiasm and big dreams of curing the incurable before frustration, disappointment, shame…no tests they ran produced conclusive results. Were they absolutely certain it was not environmental? Were they certain it wasn’t all just in his head? What a wicked thing to ask a boy of barely nine years, far too small and too many sharp edges, sunken eyes and blood stained lips.

His parents refused to give up.

Isolated from their magical foundations (your child’s illness, your child’s pain and suffering, your damned spawn’s death is what you deserve for allowing your body, your womb, to be tainted with such a lesser man’s seed) Francine struggled to cope, struggled to combat the evil plaguing her son’s body with her magical abilities coupled with modern medicine. For the time being, Tyler was alive even if that was touch and go; would it not be kinder to let him pass? To let him go?

He drifted from palliative care back to intensive, back to long term; his education was sporadic at best. Not once did he set foot in an actual school and he longed for a life outside these walls; to be like the children he watched on television or read about in his books. He longed for some greater being to come and purge him of this wicked illness in his breast and though his parents struggled to provide him with a life; he wasn’t living, was barely surviving the day: rinse and repeat.

His life changed when he received a clunky laptop at thirteen, it allowed him an unheard of outlet to the world in forums, in chat rooms, through games. He could be anybody. Anyone but himself. And maybe in the beginning he fell in love with that anonymity. He was no longer the sad little sick boy, he could be a regular boy doing regular boy things like going to school, playing sports, and hanging out with his friends. Friends. He began to make those too.  That was new. He’d never had friends that weren’t the nursing staff in the unit he stayed at or the PSWs that came to his home when he was enjoying one of his rare “good” streaks (they never lasted).

There were other children in the pediatric wards of course, but they were never the long term kind of patients. Not like him. There were the odd handful that stayed for a couple months, and some even a couple years but…their endings were not happy ones.

Technology improved with time, not just with his laptop but with medicine. With such improvements came new hope. And new disappointment. Funny that, he thought he’d long been accustomed to the bitter taste. As he got older, his good streaks became less and time spent within the gently titled comfort of his own home became sparse until it became nonexistent. By this point in time, the knowledge of witches had become common; and some younger, braver, perhaps even brasher doctors went against the norm to seek help out in these communities but came up empty handed.

His parents were drowning in debt, in sorrow and their exhaustion showed. Tyler almost wished they hated him. Wished they’d move on. Try again with another baby, a healthy baby. Do it right this time, since he was nothing but wrong.

He’s so young. The staff whispered, pity, sorrow heavy; had been whispering since he was in the single digits. Tyler would be forever young despite being closer to thirty than twenty. His activity in his group chat dropped to an all time low, his oldest friends feared the worst.

And he discovered something unheard of.

It was the kind of discovery one could only stumble upon in the places on the internet that no one should go. Where only those with wicked intent did linger. Immortality. It seemed too good to be true, some old wives tale; some fantasy story straight out of the games he played with his friends (less and less so these days).

Only it was real.

And it was obtainable.

A cure.

I’m a real boy.

Talking about being forever young had never rung so true, the doctor’s were baffled. His family was torn between horror and gratitude. He stood in the hospital garden, barefoot with dirt between his toes (and the odd cigarette butt or two but that’s less romantic) and simply basked in the sun. It was as close to a religious experience as he’d ever experienced, and he’d spent a lot of time praying to an uncaring God over the years. Begging. Pleading. Cursing.

He sent a letter written in a terribly untidy scrawl to Carden Manor requesting the chance to relocate. To discover the culture he’d never had the chance to experience, of witches and wolves and perhaps others like him. After all, it was the only community of their people he could name and maybe he was still on the tail-end of euphoria that had him wanting to throw himself into the deep end so to speak.

Maybe there was something darker there, something darker that festered close to pain towards his parents. Resentment. Anger. They claimed to have exhausted all means but what of this? “It’s something born of the darkest of magic Tyler please…” had it been a line they were unwilling to cross? Had they known about it all along but their morals had them unable to act?  This was an old magic, this wonderful beautiful thing that had been a boon to his ravaged body. This thing that had given him a new lease on life, was to him far more a blessing than any kind of curse. Already accustomed to the taste of (his own) blood on his tongue, the need to consume such a thing to survive was such that he didn’t even bat an eye.

Anger. It simmered, boiled toward all consuming and dark. Terribly, terribly dark. A want for violence, to let his hands hook into claws and act out such emotions; revenge? He wasn’t sure. Though, Tyler was absolutely sure of one thing: he wanted away from them.

Moving to the manor was the second best thing to ever happen to him and he’s all too eager to dive into a life he never thought he’d get the chance to have.

To live.

CHARACTER PERSONALITY

It’s almost painfully obvious that Tyler’s social skills are lacking. Limited socialization during his formative years has left its mark. The bulk of his ability to interact with his peers is stilted and awkward, he can come off as blunt, flat, and even cruel. Withdrawn as though secretive (and he is hiding something, hiding who and what he used to be before his immortality) he comes off as standoffish and every bit some kind of “edgy loner kid” persona. Though he is most comfortable when alone or in front of a keyboard, residing at the manor demands that he evolve past this. As does his new lease on life. He’s trying.

Incredibly self-motivated, Tyler is almost too eager to learn more of the supernatural world to which he’s been removed from for so long. His own magical talent, lacking largely in part due to a lack of proper training. His parents, understandably, had been much too focused on his ailing health. He has a truly impressive repertoire for potions and enchantments; the kinds of witch’s work one can learn from a tome but has very little hands on experience. His frustration for his…otherness that still remains is palpable. As though he hasn’t really changed. And due to such a state, he tends to lash out at his peers which does little to earn him any friends.

He’s used to not having friends, even if he finds himself frustrated with his inability to adapt in this regard. It’s a lot more difficult than he anticipated to reshape himself into somebody, a new and improved version of Tyler Orville.

Some parts of his original self remains, a quiet thoughtfulness, an impossible patience at odds with his frustration, and an optimism he tries to keep buried deep down for fear of coming off over eager and annoying.

PLOTS AND POLITICS

Presently, Tyler stands fairly neutral on the in game political spectrum due largely in part to his inexperience. His outsider status borders on some sort of isolation; which in a way, speaks the truth. He was woefully isolated from his people and hardly had it in him to follow the news much outside of the big events. Like the world discovery their kind in 2016, he saw that; read about it. His friends in the group chat talked about it. A lot. He and his best friend, Alex, fretted in a private chat about the repercussions of such a thing.

He’s not too overly keen on the servitude aspect of other species, finds it rather barbaric if he’s being honest but is well aware of the delicate line he walks here. Outsider. He’s the son of a marrying of a strong bloodline into a weak one, he never once met his Mother’s family and knows nothing of their history. Of their possible feuds. His Father’s family could never hope to hold a torch to such greatness. Tyler straddles the line between a somebody and a nobody.

In this, he could potentially be shaped into a supported of any party with the right guidance. He has power given his immortal status and his bloodline is strong, if watered down some with his Father’s genetics. He could prove to be a promising ally to any party should they wish to court him so.

As far as plots go, I want to explore him well, exploring life in person instead of looking on from the outside in. I want him to interact with his peers from wildly different walks of life and learn more about the world. The world, his world that had been so very small has suddenly exploded into something so grand.

I also have a potential wanted connection for him to offer, in the form of his best friend Alex (who can be played male, female, or non-binary) who is also a supernatural (species up to the potential other mun) and they met playing an unnamed fantasy mmorpg. Alex brought Tyler into their group of friends and they’ve been Tyler’s main friend group ever since. Tyler has gone radio silent before, but this is something new altogether. It’s like he’s dropped off the face of the Earth and Alex fears the worst. What exactly brings Alex to the manor would be 100% up to the other mun but a reunion would absolutely be required and their future interactions and relationship is anyone’s guess!

[hanhan156]

Epilogue: Insomnia

I wasn’t really inspired by continuing Halloween fics (tbh, I think I’m not gonna finish those all by October because I’d prefer to make something I like to publishing something shitty everyday) today, so instead, I finished the next Stadium fic which has been in progress for way too long.

It’s an epilogue for the last chapter, and this time, from Richard’s POV with a nice flashback scene included. ^^

Epilogue: Insomnia

The petite figure was merging with the dark night and even though he tried his best, Richard couldn’t take his eyes off from the gorgeous silhouette - the one which had become so familiar over 25 years of knowing each other. After today’s unpredictable incidents though, Richard felt like he was looking at his old friend with brand new eyes - with a kind of vague yearning both in his heart and in his soul. The emotion made familiar lyrics to loop in his head:

Sehnsucht versteckt,

sich wie ein Insekt.

Im Schlafe merkst du nicht,

dass es dich sticht.

It was like an insect indeed - like an annoying, itching feeling inside he couldn’t shake off.

Sehsucht ist so grausam.

Richard could only wonder what was Paul now thinking of him - had he gone too far? He hoped they could talk all of this over as soon as possible. Sooner or later, he was sure that the uncertainty would make him crazy if he wouldn’t do anything about it.

Awoken from his thoughts by Paul’s waving and then making his way to the backyard, Richard knew he had to leave as well. It was indeed a bit weird to stalk his bandmate from the car at midnight, even though how pleasant it had been. For a second, Richard had considered that should he follow Paul and ask still the one last time what was going on. His friend hadn’t been behaving like himself at all even though he had been assuring that everything was fine. These moments, Richard hoped to have the superpower to read minds. It would have made the situation way less complicated and wouldn’t have left him with all the questions.  

The journey back home went on automation - even if there would have been police on the road, Richard wouldn’t have noticed anything. So many thoughts and concerns were revolving around his head that it was difficult to focus on anything that was going on outside.

Richard collapsed on the sofa with a huge sigh when he had finally reached his destination. His eyes were heavy as lead, but he couldn’t fall asleep. Instead, he tried his best to keep himself busy by putting the tv on maximum volume and lighting up probably the millionth cigarette today. Luckily, there was nobody complaining about smoking inside now.

A lady on the tv’s reality show was weeping when she had been voted out from his team, but Richard didn’t get what was going on in the mindless program even though his eyes were fixed on the screen.

Oh, Paul Landers, you sweet, sweet man, what have you done to me?

He tried to make sense of his feelings: what on earth had actually happened today? Of course, he knew the script very well: they had agreed to make this one little kiss on the stage, meant to be an innocent act. He and Paul were at first pretending it was nothing, no big deal - hell’s, they had performed embarrassing and awkward stuff together several times before. In the end, it had taken forever, and finally, when they’d had the courage to actually make it happen, Paul had fainted. Richard didn’t like that something he’d done had made his friend to feel sick.

Richard had been scared to death - in the worst scenarios in his mind he had thought that Paul wouldn’t have woken up anymore or would have had amnesia. What a nice start for a tour it would have been.

Holy shit.

And even more disturbingly, even though how sorry he was for Paul, he didn’t want to admit how much he had enjoyed the situation. Like a lively gif image, Paul with raised eyebrows, lurking him in, was looping in his already way too messed head. Richard had been sober as a judge the whole day, but still, a dizzy feeling was distracting him constantly - like he’d been drinking nonstop for a week and didn’t really know what was going on anymore. How could he make this to stop? Could he live his normal life, to proceed with their band and their tour, when he was having painfully strong feelings like this?

What if he hates me for the rest of his life because of this? At least he talked with me afterward, but what if he was just pretending, just being polite? Have I ruined everything now?

Nothing made sense anymore.

Despite all of this vague mess, from one thing Richard was completely sure: that thing which was painful to admit, yet so self-evident. It had been clear as a day for a long time, but he had tried to push the feeling away. So far, he had managed pretty well, but something about today had revealed it once again.

Love. The sweetest, yet the most hurtful word known in mankind - and he had been in love for so long now that it almost hurt physically.

The target of his desperate love wasn’t the easiest one indeed: his long-time friend, colleague and almost like a brother, their relationship slowly, but steadily developing and changing. Richard had tried to avoid thinking about it too much - he was totally sure that Paul wasn’t interested in him in that kind of way and their semi-romantic moments had been just playing in his friend’s opinion. Because Richard had always been a person who wasn’t ashamed of physical proximation - Till was still reminding him occasionally from that interview in which he’d hugged the poor girl when she had asked how Germans express their feelings - he had so far managed to use the trait as his excuse when something he’d done had raised questions.

But, of course, he couldn’t keep lying forever - neither to himself nor to others. Richard was totally sure that their bandmates - especially Till, whose eagle eye didn’t seem to miss anything - had started to suspect that there was something going on between the two guitarists.

Richard wrapped himself tightly in a blanket. He wished he would have been a chameleon and could blend into the sofa material - disappear from this planet and from all the conflicting human behavior and feelings.

He closed his eyes and tried - almost forced himself - to think about anything else, but the only thing that came to his mind was Paul.

P-A-U-L

A simple word, with four letters, but yet, the word which was capable of doing nasty things inside him. The word which had been the theme of his way too lively, even sensual, daydreams.

Sigh. Paul was so close to him, yet unreachable.

While being in a dream-like state, random memories and thoughts about his dearest bandmate looping on, the cinema of his mind sent him suddenly back to the early 90’s - back to the very first moment which had led to this eventually. At least it was something else than Paul with a kissing face, thank God.

The slightly moldy scent of their rehearsal room in the basement was still so vivid, even though it was already decades from that fateful night when Paul Landers had stepped into Richard Kruspe’s life.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Richard snorted. “Where on earth is this ‘second guitarist’ of yours you promised? It seems like he’s only in your imagination.”

“He promised to come, so we’ll wait,” Till said, trying to calm their edgy guitarist down.

They had been expecting the possible new player to show up at 6 pm - the clock on the wall showed it was 6:30 already. The lingering was especially difficult for Richard who had already earned his reputation of being an exaggeratedly strict and punctual person. “A perfectionist, straight from the infernal flames of Hell,” like Schneider had described.

“Flake knows the guy from their earlier band, and he assured he’s gonna be trustworthy,” Till said and was about to continue while the keyboardist shouted behind him: “He’s just really bad with schedules. I know him, he’s a gifted musician and a nice person. We should give him a chance. Let’s don’t judge him by this, ok?”

But Richard wasn’t convinced. He was always uncertain about meeting new people - he thought they could be a threat to him. “You really think so?”

“Let’s just be patient. I’m sure he has a good explanation for the delay,” Flake replied. He didn’t want to start an argument now.

“And why do we need a second guitarist anyway?” In Richard’s nightmares, the new guy would take his place and act as a bandleader - or even worse, be more gorgeous than him.

As usually, Schneider started to get annoyed at their guitarist. “You know very well that our riffs are so plain that we need something more. And, it’s always nice to have a new perspective as well. I agree with Till and Flake, we should wait and see who this guy is. If we don’t get along, we can dump him and that’s it. Not necessary to make so much drama out of this.”

The percussionist’s straightforward style of expressing opinions was unbearable for Richard. Till had joked that they often resembled two roosters having a fierce cockfight when they were arguing over which one of them was right.

“…you claim that I’m the one making drama?” the guitarist lashed out and approached Schneider, leering him. Every single time that particular gaze made the drummer uncomfortable. “Last time when I checked, it was this guy, who we don’t even know yet, who hadn’t kept his promise, so piss off for accusing me!”

“W…hat?” Schneider was so shocked about the insult that he froze for a moment.

When he had finally gathered his thoughts and was about to say something against, the guitarist was quicker and announced: “Screw this, I’m gonna have a smoke. Please let me know when this imaginative creature comes. If he doesn’t appear, I’m going home. I have more important things to do than to wait for him ‘til the end of the world.”

At the same time, while Richard was yelling, Schneider’s mom arrived with a bunch of freshly made sandwiches and beercans in her hands. She startled when they almost bumped into each other with the guitarist who was rushing outside.

“Hallo, wie geht es dir?” she asked with a sweet voice when she stood in the middle of their basement, now changed into her son’s and his friends’ rehearsal room.

“Gut, gut…we are Mama quite busy here now…”

Even though they all were adults already, Herr and Frau Schneider wanted to treat their son’s friends as a part of the family. The drummer thought it was embarrassing while the rest accepted offered food and drinks with pleasure - none of them showered in money, so they welcomed all free stuff they could get.

But Richard wasn’t interested in snacks now. He preferred to pout alone, enjoying his smoking moment.

The guitarist had pondered the band’s future quite a lot. Even though it seemed pretty promising, he doubted it now and then. Did this make any sense at all? Everyone around him had all of his life claimed that he should get a degree and get a real job - get a normal, adult life. He should take his head out of the clouds and be responsible. In a weak moment, when nothing had seemed to work out in his life, he’d been convinced that maybe he’d really been wrong. Maybe he should try this “adult life” thing. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. Not his dream, but a way to adapt to society, to make himself accepted - the first time in his life.

But all those doubts had vanished into thin air when he met Till Lindemann - a sensitive poet, who seemed to understand him completely even though they were so different as persons. What had brought them together were the crazy visions, the lust for life: the lust for being an artist and not to give a shit about what the others were thinking.

Richard knew in his heart his real dream: to express himself and to be respected by what he was doing. For Christ’s sake, life was too short not to be lived to the fullest, and music, that was his whole life. It was the torch of creativity he had to feed regularly - otherwise, he would slowly and painfully perish.

He sighed and looked at the sky, trying to blink back tears. The last thing he wanted now was to weep like a baby.

The sensitive thoughts didn’t have a chance to last for long though because they were interrupted by a distant, loud rattle - it sounded like somebody had made an orchestra out of pots and pans. Richard was sure it was the neighbor’s kids goofing around and didn’t mind about it so much at first.

But the noise kept getting closer and closer to the house - seemed like kids couldn’t have been blamed for it anymore.

Richard rubbed his eyes. What in God’s name is it?

The question got its answer in a minute when Richard saw a small cycling figure approaching the house with a huge guitar bag.

The figure - now Richard could see it was a blond man, probably around his age - stopped and so did the cacophony. “Is this…Christoph Schneider’s house?” he asked, still panting from the cycling.

“Yes.”

The incognito man smiled so brightly that it almost seemed like the whole dark street was suddenly lighted up. “Wunderbar! So umm, this band about Stein…something is rehearsing here, am I right?”

“Rammstein, yes.”

“Then I’m in the right place! And I’m terribly sorry I’m late, there was a huge traffic jam and I got stuck. Also, I didn’t realize this place was on the other side of the city.”

Richard didn’t reply anything - he kept staring at the distance, busy with smoking. Seemed like their new guitarist had finally appeared. He wasn’t sure, was he ready for this.

The guy left his wrecked bicycle - Richard could only wonder, what kind of torture the poor vehicle had been going through - in front of the house and with his guitar bag, came back to the other man. “So, we finally meet, I’ve been looking forward to this! Flake has told me so much about the new band project of yours. I’m Paul Landers,” he said and offered his hand.

But Richard acted like he had forgotten completely how human interactions worked. “Let’s go inside,” he answered nonchalantly to the other man’s friendly gesture. Paul almost had to run to keep up with his pace.

Finally, they both were in the basement and when Schneider’s mom saw there was a new guest in their house, she hurried to get a sandwich and a beer for Paul as well.

All of the band - except for Richard, who was still acting grumpy - greeted the new musician and with Flake, they hugged: it was nice to reunite after playing in the same band for so long.

“Okay, so what kind of music do you guys play?” Paul asked while munching his bread.

“It’s a bit difficult to explain. Maybe we’ll just play something and you’ll make your own opinion,” Flake answered.

“Do you want to hear the lyrics first?” Till asked.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, we have one completed song and it’s called Herzeleid.” Till looked at their possible new guitarist’s curious face and continued: “The other guys composed and arranged it and I wrote the text. Let us know what you think of it and please be straightforward, if it’s completely Scheisse.”

He cleared his throat and started to read the text out loud:

“Bewartet einander vor Herzeleid,

denn kurz ist die Zeit die ihr beisammen seid.

Denn wenn euch auch viele Jahre vereinen,

einst werden sie wie Minuten euch scheinen.

Herzeleid

Bewahret einander vor der Zweisamkeit.”

When Till had finished his recitation, nobody said anything for a while. The singer got a bit uneasy. “Yeah, well…I know the lyrics are a bit cheesy, I’m not sure from where they actually came from…” He knew very well that the text told about his own recent painful break-up, but he didn’t want to open up about his love life now.

Paul stood up and gave Till the brightest smile possible. “No need to worry, it was beautiful! Very heartbreaking and melancholic. You truly are a talented writer.”

Till wasn’t sure was the new guy flattering or did he really mean what he said. “Danke…”

“I’m curious to hear the whole song while already the lyrics sound so awesome.”

Richard was in a mood for challenging. “We are here to play so just grab your guitar and start.”

Paul took the last sip from his beer and said: “Yeah, sure, but can I get the chords or some kind of instructions? And is there a second amplifier somewhere? I couldn’t take mine on my bike.”

He expected to get at least some guidance, but to his surprise, there was none - Richard just started playing the heavy riff without even bothering to look at their new possible bandmember.

Okay, did I say something wrong, or is this how this band usually works? Well, if I want to be in, I just have to adapt, Paul thought, and with Flake’s help, got another, smaller amplifier. He tried his best to mimic the chords by ear and occasionally trying to stalk the lead guitarist - it was quite impossible though when he seemed to have turned his back from Paul on purpose.

Even though with all his best effort, Paul could hear he sounded like absolute bullshit. His precious instrument had turned into a torture machine - he could have never imagined he could create discords so horrible.

When the song ended he didn’t dare to look at anyone - maybe they had supposed that he would have had a perfect pitch and were now disappointed. He’d made them wait and it had ended up being a failure.

Scheisse.

Paul thought that maybe it would be best if he’d pack his things up and leave without saying anything. The cocky guitarist of this band seemed like he knew what he was doing so why he should be bothered any longer.

Till came next to the new player when he saw that he was visibly disappointed. “Es tut mir leid, Reesh isn’t the easiest person to deal with, he takes this band death seriously. It’s nothing personal against you,” the singer whispered so quietly that Richard couldn’t hear.

But Paul wasn’t convinced of the soothing words and continued with his packing. “C’mon, you have to admit that I sounded like shit.” He stopped for a while and nodded towards the lead guitarist. “I can see from his face that he’s unsatisfied. He probably hates me already. Maybe it’s better that I leave and you continue while you still have a good start here.”

Till tried his best to be supportive and explained: “None of us is a professional musician, so no worries. You at least tried your best. The only problem was that our little diva didn’t bother to tell you that the song is in drop D tuning. Let’s try again.” He squeezed the new player’s shoulder gently like begging him to stay with them.

Paul sighed. “Okay, one more time then.” Even though he was disappointed to himself he had an instinct that he should give it a try.

He grabbed his guitar back from the floor. “Let’s play.”

He didn’t know at that moment that the decision changed the band’s path completely.

After the surprisingly successful band practice, everybody had left except for the two guitarists who were having the last smokes before heading home.

“I really like what you have here. It seems promising and I’m more than happy to be a part of it. I can only imagine what we will achieve together.” He didn’t think that the band would get very popular - it was technically impossible to be world-famous with dark German lyrics and simple, aggressive riffs. At least he hoped they could record some albums and have small tours around Germany. To have fun and create art with a bunch of guys who seemed quite nice already.

To his utter surprise, the other man said unexpectedly: “I have to admit that you weren’t so bad at all in the end.”

“R-really?” Paul didn’t know his fellow guitarist so well yet, but he seemed very picky. Even this small kind of compliment must have been a huge thing from him.

Richard nodded. “After you figured the song out, you played just fine. I’m looking forward to what we can achieve together as well.” He turned and the first time that night looked at Paul straight in the eyes. “You passed the test. Welcome to the band.”

The target of the small compliment tried to act as casual as he could even though his heart started pounding disturbingly rapidly. He didn’t have any clue what this “test” he had just passed was, but it sounded nice to hear he had succeeded.

Paul cleared his throat and said: “One thing bothers me still though.” He came a bit closer and continued: “We didn’t say hi properly and actually, I haven’t even heard your whole name yet.”

Richard stared at the offered hand for a while, but finally - to Paul’s surprise and relief - he took it. “Richard.”

Paul couldn’t hide his smirking - the other man had announced his name so comically officially like he would have been the most important person walking on this earth. “Richard, who exactly?”

“C’mon, do you now want my social security number as well or what? Very well then, it’s 705…”

“What on earth you think I’d do with your social security number?” Paul interrupted even though he had to admit that he liked the new acquaintance's sarcastic sense of humor already. “Just that it would be nice to know the full name of the guy, whose band I’m apparently in now.”

Richard straightened his back and with another firm handshake, announced: “Richard Zven Kruspe, nice to meet you.”

“Paul Heiko Landers, pleased to meet you too.”

Richard knew from that moment he would never forget the name - the bond had been formed for eternity on that fateful night.

He sighed. Till death do us part, mein Paulchen.

[fluffyunicornofdanger]

Live Without You

Author’s Note: This was not requested but I’ve had this idea for a long time and only decided to write it after I read a one-shot kind of like it. I have also realized that maybe I should come up with prompts before trying to write any of the requests I have because that would make it so much easier. I might have a few requests done next week as next week is spring break. I might do a part two because I feel like but I don’t know. Let me know how you guys like it. I apperciate feedback

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist

Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: Roger meets the reader in a dirty bar after one of his shows and spends the rest of his time with her trying to convince her that he doesn’t want to live without her.

Wordcount: Over 5k (I’m sorry it’s so long. I got carried away.)

Warning: Swearing

Trying to elbow her way to the front, Y/n let out a sigh as she saw how many people blocked her way to the stage. She would have to be content with just listening to the music. That’s what she came for anyway. Who needed to see the musicians when they weren’t the reason people were there? Their music was.

Well, that was entirely true.

Y/n’s brother’s had asked her to go on tour with his band to America. She had jumped at the idea as she loved spending time with him and his bandmates and she also loved traveling. She had always wanted to go to America after some of her college friends had gone. They came back telling stories that she wished she had experienced. So with her brother, his four bandmates, their instruments, and manager, she loaded herself on their tour bus. They had done so many things that she had only dreamed about and they had been to places that she thought she would never go. Yet, it got boring. Listening to them squabble about nonsense and go over new songs that they wanted to record once they got done with tour was boring. The excitement, the spontaneous behavior that brought them all to life when they first arrived in the states was gone. And so was Y/n’s interest.

Well I've loved a million women

In a belladonic haze

And I ate a million dinners

Brought to me on silver trays

Give me everything I need

To feed my body and my soul

And I'll grow a little bigger

Maybe that can be my goal

And that is what lead her to have to fight her way to a decent viewing of whatever band was playing. She wasn’t even sure what the band was called. All she knew was that there was another British band playing in the same city and since her brother knew one of the sound techs, she was able to get in much to her brother’s dismay as they had a show that night as well. But she had seen the same show the night before. Hell, she had seen almost every night for the past month. And to say that it was getting old would be an understatement.

I was told a million times

Of all the people in my way

How I had to keep on trying

And get better every day

Y/n watched as a bunch of groupies blocked her view. Had she not already had problems with women like them, she probably would have fought her way to the front of the stage. But she knew better than to try. She had gotten into one too many fights with her brother’s band’s groupies and it never ended well for her. Those women were a weird kind of violent. They were sweet and kind and seductive and then bam! They were like the devil’s spawn and you looked like a nice cookie that they just wanted to bite into. Y/n had first-hand experience in that and highly recommended that no one wanted to be that nice cookie.

But if I crossed a million rivers

And I rode a million miles

Then I'd still be where I started

Same as when I started

The biggest problem with groupies, though, was the fact that you could never be sure which ones were dangerous and which ones weren’t. It made navigating a concert harder than navigating a minefield.

Keep yourself alive, come on

Keep yourself alive

Ooh, it'll take you all your time and money honey

You'll survive, shake

Swaying on her heels, she found an empty pillar to lean against as music blasted through the room. Even though she couldn’t see the band, she liked the view in front of her. Her favorite part of any concert was watching the fans. She loved how their bodies moved in time with the beat as the lyrics lingered on their tongues. She loved watching how they got lost in it all. She just loved watching what music could do to people. Music was like the best kind of drug. It was better than anything that she had ever taken.

As the band finished their set and waved their goodbyes, the audience slowly shuffled out. Y/n stayed back, trying not to get swept away in the crowd. She was in no hurry to leave, there was nowhere she was keen on getting back to.

Stuffing her hands in her pocket, she walked out of the venue. Cold air slapped her face as she walked out into the cold starry night. The street was busy even though it was almost midnight, all the cars on the street were from people leaving the show. She wasn’t too fond of the idea of going back to the hotel as she knew her brother and his bandmates probably would only return the following morning. And if they returned earlier they would either be drunk off their asses or have girls wrapped around them or both. That was not something she wanted to be around

“This is what you get, Y/n,” she muttered to herself as she walked down the sidewalk. “If you hadn’t agreed to come, you wouldn’t be so bored.” She kicked a soda can that was lying in the middle of her path. It was too late to go home now and she knew it. Her mother would claim that she missed home too much and her brother would call her a bore. The thought made her blood boil as the only bore was him. To have even a little bit of fun she had to get away from the people that she always had a fun time with. That seemed to wrong to her.

Y/n walked around for a while, taking in the shadows of the city before spotting a dive bar. She was cold, with her arms wrapped around her middle, and hungry from not eating since lunch. Pushing a wooden door with a long stained glass window open, she walked into a room full of smoke with the smell of alcohol swirling around.

She couldn’t help but grumble at the scene in front of her as she fully walked into the bar. There were bikers decked out in leather jackets and tattoos that surround the pool table and there were a few women, who looked like they were selling themselves, trying to win over a few men in a corner booth. Not only that but cigarette buds were scattered on the floor alongside peanut shells. Every reason that she hated dive bars laid out right in front of her. But at least they always were filled with some excitement. She closed her eyes for a second before walking over to the bar.

Jumping on the barstool, she flagged down the bartender who was in the middle of cleaning a glass. The women set the glass down and threw the towel over her shoulder as she approached her new customer. “What can I get ya, doll?” her American accent coming on strong.

“Whiskey on rocks and fries,” she smiled at the woman. The smile wasn’t returned as the woman yelled to someone in the kitchen and then grabbed a bottle of whiskey off a shelf.

A sigh escaped her lips as she turned to watch the pool game the bikers were currently playing. They all seemed to be pretty decent at the game, probably because none of them wanted to lose. If they didn’t look so intimidating she might have joined them. But as she was alone and no one knew where she was, she decided it was best just to watch the game. And if she got caught up in any trouble and was forced to call her brother, she knew she would never hear the end out it.

Turning back to the bar, a basket of fries and a glass of whiskey with two large ice cubes were in front of her. She hadn’t heard the bartender set them down, but Y/n didn’t care as she stuffed her face full of fries. They weren’t very good, but food was food. She knew she was hungry, but she hadn't known how much until the basket was empty and all she wanted was more greasy fries.

Before she could ask for more, someone took a seat in the stool next to her, capturing the attention of the bartender. Y/n turned to see a man with long blonde hair in a red leather jacket and a white buttoned-up shirt, most of the top buttons left unbuttoned. “Beer,” he told the bartender as she walked up to him.

Before she could get away Y/n tried to get her attention. “Um- Hey- I,” her words flattered as they went unnoticed. “I just want more fries-” She picked up her untouched drink, placing the glass against her lips, taking a small sip. “-but I’m not a paying customer yet. So I will starve,” she said to herself.

Of course, her night was going to go just fucking well. First, she couldn’t see a damn thing at the concert she had gone to. At that point, could she say that she was even there if she hadn’t seen the band? And then she was forced to go into a dive bar that had probably seen better days. That all lead up the bartender ignoring her for what? Some blonde?

The man beside her chuckled as a cold beer was slide in front of him and the empty basket in front of her was snatched away. Y/n glared at him as she chugged down the rest of her drink, which was a lot. Her face scrunched up as the whiskey burned her throat on the way down. Maybe she should have gotten a beer. That probably would have been better on her throat.

Setting his beer down, the blonde turned to her, “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” His voice was soft like velvet as he spoke, something about it sounded familiar but she couldn’t place it.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she turned to the man. She sighed, giving him a fake smile, “And how is that any of your business?”

He nodded, picking his beer back up, a taking a sip. There was something about him, something about her voice that Y/n just couldn’t place. She didn’t know what it was. She knew that she had never met him before as she had a good memory when it came to faces. That skill, which it was because she didn’t have it before her brother started a band, came from looking out for the band's many stalkers. That had to be one of the downsides of the business. “It’s not,” he dragged out. “That is unless I want to leave with you.”

Her eyes met his deep blue ones as a smile crept onto her face. She wasn’t one for one night stands or anything of the sort. She’d done all of that wild stuff in college and it didn’t always end well. It surprised her how many men in London were no good in bed. And it was always the ones that everyone bragged about. Which, of course! Y/n tilted her head, thinking about it before letting out a sigh. “Well, then what are you waiting for?”

He smiled, pulling his wallet out and throwing a few dollars on the bar. Y/n hopped off the stoll as he laced their fingers together. She didn’t know where he was going to take her and she wasn’t even sure if she should trust the man, but leaving with him was better than doing nothing. Things like this probably would be the only excitement she would get during the rest of the tour.

Rays of sun danced through the window, the thin curtains doing nothing to stop them. Y/n let out a moan, stretching out her arms. That was until one of her hands met warm skin and she pried her tired eyes open. Next to her, cover by the white duvet was the man that she had met at the bar a few nights before. It seemed that he wanted her back every night and she was willing to return. Her brother hadn’t seemed to notice that she was gone each night as he was too busy with some girl between his legs. It didn’t matter anyway if he did. Y/n was a bigger who didn’t need her brother’s permission go do whatever or whoever she wanted.

Roger was propped up on his elbow, rubbing circles on her bare shoulder, which earned him a sleepy smile as her eyes fluttered shut. “You know, I’m starting to think I can’t live without you.”

Y/n scoffed at the words. They had only known each other for a few days and he was acting like they’d known each other for years. “Don’t be silly,” she pried her eyes open to look at his blue ones, searching for any sign that he was joking. When she didn’t find any humour in his features, she shook her head. “Roger, I can’t. I can’t stay if that’s what you’re asking.”

The blonde stretched his arms out before rolling out of bed. “Of course you can,” he stated, running a hand through his untamed hair. “You said it yourself, you have nothing keeping you anywhere.”

Y/n groaned as she remembered her words. It had been the night before, after she had gotten done breaking up a fight between two of her brother’s bandmates. She wasn’t certain what the fight was about, just that it was causing them to not want to play together and that wouldn’t work as they had a show the following night. Y/n had gone to Roger’s hotel room since he had invited her back. She knew that it was only because he probably didn’t want to deal with obsessive groupies and he knew what she was good in bed. But she didn’t go back because of that, because he was the Roger Taylor, even though she wasn’t sure why that made him important. Sure he was apart of a band, she’d come to found out, but that didn’t make him special. Y/n went back to his room because she wanted a break from all the noise that her brother and his band always created. Their sound was too familiar to her to make her want to do much more than throw a pillow over her ears, in hopes that it would stop.

She wasn’t even sure why she said. It didn’t even mean anything to him, at least it shouldn’t have. But she told him that she was tired of following her brother around. They had their fun together, they had their fights together, but it was time for them to go their separate ways. She told him how her brother was the only thing keeping her in one place as her parents didn’t really care where she was as long as she came home every once in a while. Roger shouldn’t have cared, there were thousands of girls just like her who had nothing keeping them nowhere.

Maybe he thought that she was telling him all of that so that he would pity her and want to be with her a little longer. Maybe he wanted to be a reason that she stayed somewhere. She didn’t know what he was thinking, expect that it was crazy.

Y/n watched as he tugged his pants on and began searching for a shirt. “What do you mean you don’t think you could live without me?” He caught her off guard by the statement, but no one had ever told her that. Not even her ex-fiance, who she was expected to spend the rest of her life. Thankfully that was never going to happen.

Roger picked a shirt off a chair in the corner of the room and shrugged as he pulled it over his head. “I think it’s self explanatory, love.”

“Don’t call me that,” she spat at him. She wasn’t his love or anyone else’s. “And, no it’s not.” She pushed the covers off, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. “If it were then I wouldn’t have asked. And you know, I’m still a stranger to you so I don’t know why you would say such a thing,” she said, hopping of the bed in search of her clothes.

Roger had gone into the bathroom as she pulled her clothes on, a graphic tee and jeans. When he came out Y/n was already putting her shoes on. “Are you gonna stay for breakfast? I’m sure the boys would love to see you.”

“No,” her voice was sharp as she stood and grabbed her purse. Walking over to where he was leaning against the door frame, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “As fun as this has been, the fun has to end some time,” she smiled at him.

He closed the little distance between, chests pressed together, as he snaked his arms around her waist. “Don’t say that Y/n. The fun can last as long as we both want it to.”

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “No, it can’t. Not when I have a plane to catch.”

“You’re leaving?”

She nodded, releasing her hold on him as she stepped towards the door. “I have to go home some time.”

Opening the door, she turned to the blonde who hadn’t moved, “Goodbye, Roger. Maybe we’ll cross paths again.”

As she walked down the hallway of the hotel, she hoped that they would. She hoped that maybe when they bumped into each other again it would be at a better time. A time when he wasn’t living the dream and a time when she wasn’t trying to find one. Their brief encounter had been fun. Full of laughs and smiles. He might have believed that he couldn’t live without her and if that was the case, she thought, then he would try and find her. If he really wanted to see her he would ask her brother where she would be. He was never good at keeping things private.

A few months had passed since Y/n had last seen Roger Taylor. In those months she had learned that the concert she had seen the night they met was his. And that's why his voice had sounded so familiar. She should have known that night, but it took months of playing over the same memories for her to finally get it.

And in those few months, she had inherited a recording studio from her uncle. For some reason, he gave her brother his house, which was like a mansion, and her a studio that had seen better days. She would have considered it odd but she knew her uncle. He was a weird one. And so was the studio that she had inherited. It seemed that everything always needed to be repaired and no one knew how to do it. It didn’t help matters that the place seemed to be a popular spot to record. People were always coming and going, making it hard to do repairs.

Y/n was behind her desk, a record playing softly in the corner, classical music coming from its speakers. There were piles of files in front of her, something her uncle never liked to do. Having taken over his business, Y/n took it upon herself to clean the place up, starting with the filing. With how he had it organized, it would take years to find anything. Y/n shook her head as she stacked them all together. She had spent days going over files, trying to put them in the right spot, but it was almost impossible as she couldn’t focus. Setting the files on the floor, she buried her hands in her lap.

Oh, what she would give to have inherited the mansion. It had a huge library and record collection and it had a pool. A fucking pool. It wasn’t like her brother did anything with it anyway, he was hardly ever there. The place was just going to wither away and eventually end up like the studio. That would be a tragedy.

Before she could wallow in her suffering any longer, the door to her office open. Leroy stepped in, a tired look covered his face as his body slouched over from probably little sleep. He had spent the night trying to get one of the recording booths back in working order. “The damn thing isn’t working again,” he huffed out.

It didn’t take much for Y/n to know what wasn’t working. The same machine had been giving her problems from the start and it took every ounce of patients she had not to break it. Leroy and her had spent many hours trying to figure out what the problem was with it, but neither of them wanted to try too hard as that would require tearing up part of a recording booth. Y/n just wasn’t ready for that project, not when there were so many others and she didn’t have that much money.

Pushing away from her desk, she grumbled as the two walked to the recording booth where the machine was located. She hoped that the band recording that day would understand. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if they didn’t. It’s not like the kitchen was in working order as it was being redone. She couldn’t make them go in there with nails and broken tile everywhere. They would just have to live without making music for five seconds. It wouldn’t kill them. Would it?

Y/n stopped at the door of the room as she surveyed the people in it until her eyes landed on a blonde head of hair. He didn’t even realize she was there, maybe he didn't even remember her. But she remembered those crystal blue eyes that had looked down at her, begging her to stay. She remembered the way that his arms wrapped around her middle, making her feel safe. She remembered everything about him even if he didn’t remember her. And she didn’t blame him if that was the case. She was a nobody. She was just as special as every other girl he had slept with while on tour. He had probably told a few other women that he couldn’t live without them. She had marked it up to be part of his charm.

Entering the room, whatever conversations the group was having died as she stepped in front of the machine that literally was vital to recording anything. Looking at the sound tech, she raised her brow, “What’s it doing now?”

“Not working.”

“No shit,” she swatted his arm. “What part of it isn’t working?”

He mumbled to himself. It probably had something to do with the fact that he always got stuck with the broke things. It wasn’t personal, but Y/n knew that he could handle pissed off bands better than anyone else at the studio. Maybe even her. “There’s no sound. You can sing your heart if you want to check, but no sound will come back.”

Running a hand through her hair, she turned to Leroy. “Go in there. It’s probably one of the cables.” The man nodded his head as he entered the booth that was full of guitars, a piano, and a set of drums. The same was in each of the five recording booths in the studio.

Y/n drummed her fingers against the huge machine, she often wondered why it had to be so massive. It probably took an army to install. She hoped that it didn’t have to be replaced as she didn’t want to pay an army to drag it out of the place and put a new one in. Money was tight and she was going to have to make things work for as long as possible. “Have you tried hitting it?” she asked the man next to her.

He nodded. “I’ve tried everything. I hit it, I swore at it, I turned ever bloody knob on the damn thing in hopes that it would do something besides nothing!”

“That’s probably why it’s not working,” a thick Irish voice came from the back of the room.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Y/n wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of this. She wasn’t in the mood for paperwork. She wasn’t in the mood for a non-functioning kitchen. And she most certainly wasn’t in the mood for one of the most expensive machines in the whole building to quit working. But above all that, she wasn’t in the mood to deal with people.

Turning to where the voice came from, she saw a man in the corner. He was the only one of the five not sitting down. As Roger and his bandmates, Brian, he had the curly hair, John, his was brown, and Freddie, well… who could miss him, all sat on the two different couches in the room. “And who are you?”

The man folded his arms over his chest. “My name is Paul.”

Y/n nodded before clicking her tongue. “And what do you do for these gentlemen?”

“I’m Freddie’s assistant.”

Roger looked between the two, uncertain of where the exchange was going. The rest of his band weren’t sure either, but they all watched with bated breath. Paul had a way of making people lose their mind and Roger hoped that he didn’t cause Y/n to lose her’s. Even if it had been months since he’d seen her.

She turned back to the window of the recording booth, signaling to Leroy that it would be a minute. Turning back to Paul, everyone felt a shift in her mood. “An assistant. So you’re not a musician, a sound tech, a producer, or a manager? You’re an assistant.”

He shook his head. “Did I not just say that?” his eyes were full of fire at her question. He was one of those men. One of those men that liked to have all the power in the room. It was too bad for him that she held all the power as it was her studio.

Y/n clapped her hands together at his reaction. “Great! Then shut the fuck up as you have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said with a smile. “And since you said you’re an assistant, why don’t you go get everyone some coffee. I’m sure there’s some in between the scraps of wood.” She waited for him to leave before turning back to the work in front of her.

A grin appeared on Roger’s face as Paul left the room. He had no idea that she could be so fiery. She had always been so gentle with him. It was interesting to see a different side of her.

“Why’d you do that?” the sound tech, George asked once Paul was out of sight.

Y/n shrugged. “He seems like the man who likes to get his way.”

“Ah! Yes, and we can’t have that.”

“Not here,” she turned back to Leroy. Pressing the button on the microphone, she spoke into it. “Check that green cord.”

The man looked around, trying not to knock anything over. If there hadn’t been a band trying to record she would have just gone in there and taken out the wall that hid the back of the machine. But there was a band and it didn’t help that it was Roger’s. She could feel his eyes on her as she tried to focus on the man in front of her. “The… The green one,” she tried to tell him again as he tripped over the cord. Running a hand down her face, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do.

All she knew was that a mansion sounded way better than what was in front of her.

Leroy cursed as he stood, picking up the cord that took his feet out from under him, the green one. He followed it back to its place in the wall. After twisting it to make sure that it was in place properly, he gave them a thumbs up, “I think it should be working now.”

Y/n smiled as she took a seat in an empty chair. “Then let’s try it. Play something on the piano.”

“Like what?” he asked as he neared the instrument.

Y/n moving her head back and forth, she tried to think of something simple that he would know. “Um… Play ‘Mary had a Little Lamb.’ It’s really easy.” He looked at her like she was crazy. Obviously, it wasn’t easy for him. “Alright, then don’t,” she said sternly. “Just do something.”

With that, he ran his fingers over the keys a few times and then waited for them to play it back. That was the part that hadn’t been working earlier, one of the worst things to not work as no one would know until trying to listen to something.. George hit a button that played the tape over and through the speakers flowed Leroy’s horrible piano skills. Everyone let out a sigh of relief that the band could go back to recording.

“There you go boys,” Y/n stood from her chair and left the room. Heavy footsteps weren’t far behind her as someone grabbed her arm and spun her around. In a second, she was face to face with the man she hadn’t seen in months.

“You aren’t going to say hello?” he asked, smiling down at her.

She blushed under his gaze, his grasp on her arm gone as his hand went back to his side. So, he had remembered her. “I-I didn't think you remembered me.”

He chuckled at her statement. How could he forget her? There was something about her that had captured his attention. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was something. He would be lying if he hadn’t fallen for her the night that they had met. In that dirty old dive bar, she looked like nothing could touch her. Like she was a woman that decided what she wanted and that was final. No one, no man, no woman, no one at all could tell her what to do. And he loved that. He had never forced her to do anything, only asked. And by asking, she came back. She was the kind of woman that gave respect where she received it and for a man that often didn’t show respect, she thrilled him.

“Y/n,” he cupped her face. “How could I forget you?” Y/n brought his hands down, not believing him. “I could never forget the woman that I can’t live without.”

Y/n scoffed just like she had so many months before when he first told her he didn’t think he could live without her. She turned from him and head back to her office. “If you couldn’t live without me then why did you let me go?” she called back to him.

The blonde was silent for a while as she disappeared into her office. He would have gone after her. He probably would have chased her to the ends of the Earth, but he thought that she wouldn’t come back. He took her as the kind of woman who did as she pleased. One that couldn’t simply be won over by someone begging her to be.

Roger approached the office to find her behind a desk, a pile of paperwork in front of her. Y/n didn’t look up from the work in front of her as he took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “I didn’t think you’d stay,” he sighed at the words. He never wanted to admit that he was head over heels for her. Hell, they hadn’t even spent that much time together. He didn’t expect her to feel the same.

Y/n shyly looked up from the paperwork in front of her, “Come again?”

He cleared his throat, sitting up straight. “I didn’t think you’d stay. I didn’t think that there was anything stopping you from going as you said nothing was keeping you there,” he clarified.

She leaned back in her chair, processing his words. He had really wanted her to stay. So it wasn’t just part of his charm. He had meant, in some form, that he wanted her to stay with him. That was all good and well except for the fact that he could clearly live without her. “It appears that you have lived without me, though. So, I don’t see why you’re not with your band, Roger.”

Running a hand down his face, he wasn’t sure where to begin. He wasn’t one for sappy words. He didn’t do love. Not like Brian or John or even Freddie. He didn’t do ‘I love you’ or any of that crap. He didn’t know how to confess his love in any way as he hadn’t had many long term relationships. “What if I told you that it’s more of I don’t want to live without you?”

She raised her brow. “And what if I tell you that you’re a fool in love with a stranger?”

“Then let me take you on a date so we’re no longer strangers,” he offered with a grin on his face.

Y/n rolled her eyes at his behavior. He obviously wasn’t going to back down. “Fine,” she said reluctantly. She had a feeling that if she’d said no, he wouldn’t have left her office ‘til the answer changed.

He stood from his chair, moving to lean over her desk. “I’m gonna make you fall for me so hard that you can’t live without me.” Y/n nodded, a small laugh escaping her lips as she smiled up at him. He was like a child playing a game. “How about dinner tomorrow?”

She thought it over a second. There hadn’t been much on her calendar for months besides trying to fix the studio up. “I was going to tear out the cabinets in the kitchen tomorrow night since no one will be here.”

“Okay, I’ll help then,” he informed her as he walked towards the door. “See you tomorrow night, Y/n.”

“Bye, Roger.” She smiled as the blonde vanished from her view, returning to finish whatever his band was recording. He was one hell of a man. She did, however, believe that he would have the shock of his life when he’d have to help her destroy the kitchen. He’d probably never touched work like that in his life and probably would never with his work. No matter, Y/n was excited to spend another night with the man. It would be a different night compared to the ones they had spent in his bed.

[tegan-taylors-version]

When @taylorswift owns your life and you have to email your professor explaining why your paper is late:

Hi Professor,

So I know my paper is late but you see Grammy award winning, singer-song writer, cat lover, born in 1989, pop superstar Taylor Swift kind of claimed my life for the past 3 days and I’ve been very distracted. You see I woke up Thursday morning with every intention of writing my paper only to find that there was a livestream showing fans gathering at a butterfly mural in Nashville for no other reason than it vaguely resembling her Instagram aesthetic. So like every other Swifitie on the planet I tuned in. As time goes by more and more people gather for absolutely no apparent reason. I mean the cops are there, television crews, radio people. For absolutely no fucking reason other than that this butterfly has some cats in it and Taylor likes cats. So I’m watching this on my laptop and am on Tumblr on my phone (multitasking is key). And the Swifitie fandom is dying. We can’t believe these people are making us look like boo boo the fool again, especially after the whole five holes in the fence embarrassment. Five holes in the fence you ask? Let me digress.

I want to take you back to the 24th of February when Miss Swift posted a photo of 7 palms trees with the caption of 7 palm tree emoji’s. Swifties were like “is this a clue”, “what does this mean?”. Next came a photo a photo of her sitting on some stairs. So Swifties got out their calculators and used their math skills once again and decided that Taylor was indeed sitting on the sixth step. “Could this be a countdown?” Swifities everywhere began asking themselves. Pandemonium. New music is coming. We have cracked the code….or so we thought. One day later Taylor posts another photo of her standing behind a fence. A FENCE WITH FIVE HOLES (I mean we had got good at counting by this point). “This has to be a countdown”, said the Swifities. I mean we had the fricken news reporting on this so-called countdown. Taylor Swift obviously saw our stupidity and our crackhead theories and decided to call out of stupidity on Instagram to her 116 million follows and reject the countdown we had made up in our heads… We won’t even talk about her dragging us on national television.

Still following? Ok. Back to the livestream. So Tumblr is complete chaos. We cannot believe hundreds of people have gathered around this mural for absolutely no reason, yet 2 hours have gone by and we are all still watching this tomfoolery. We are asking begging Taylor to put these clown Swifites out their misery and send them home. And then after three hours of staring at a butterfly mural, THE TAYLOR ALISON SWIFT shows up and takes selfies with every. single. person. And is all like “oh hey see this cool mural I had made” and then leaves. But not before convincing us we have to watch the NFL draft that night to find out more about her new music.

Now you may be thinking well you had five hours between the livestream and the NFL draft you could’ve done your paper. And you would be incorrect. You see I had actually stopped breathing by this point and had to wait for someone to come resuscitate me. After being resurrected from the dead, 8pm comes around and I’m tuning into the NFL draft even though I know nothing about American football. Couldn’t name a single team. I mean what does NFL even stand for? Not important.

So I’m watching the draft because Taylor owns my heart (body and soul) waiting for her to drop us a bone. Miss Swift shows up looking like a glitter rainbow goddess and tells her song ME! Comes out at midnight with Brendon Urie from Panic! At the disco. WWHHHHHAAAATTTTTT! Once again I’ve forgotten how to breathe, I’m in a full body sweat and quite honestly I need to be heavily sedated. You could say I was all PANIC and no DISCO. I honestly don’t remember what happened between now and midnight. I think I blacked out.

Midnight rolls around (not really it was the longest wait of my entire life), and Taylor releases A FRICKEN BOP. I mean did we expect anything less? No. Taylor said you can’t spell AWESOME without ME and she is correct. Taylor is smart. For obvious reasons I can’t just watch it once. I must watch it on repeat. I must learn every lyric. I must know every piece of choreography. I must learn french.

By now it is around 5:30am, and I decide to get a solid hour of sleep before having to get up to watch GMA for a Taylor Swift interview. I roll out of bed and assume my position on the couch and tune in only to discover that GMA has done something bad and punk’d Swifities with no new interview or announcement. Bad GMA. So this is when I decide to go be productive and actually write my paper. Good Tegan.

Minding my own business, writing my paper, Taylor Swift decides to go live on Instagram and roast us for missing obvious clues in the music video. I mean you can see the shock in her face at our stupidity and lack of attention to detail. CHAOS follows. I was the opposite of JE SUIS CALME. We must not let our leader down. We must band together and crack this code. So for the next several hours I am watching the ME! Video repeatedly. IN SLOW MOTION. I have a notebook out and am taking notes. We had to redeem ourselves after the five holes in the fence mess. We have to be the FBI detectives that Taylor told us we are. So for the rest of the evening, along with every other Swifitie, I am trying to crack this darn clue. I am going from YouTube to Instagram to Tumblr to Twitter back to YouTube. It was a mess (and not the mess that Taylor wanted).

So this brings me to today. The mystery is still not solved and we are clowns. I know I am getting an MA in Forensic Psychology and should be able to crack these clues but you see Miss Swift has been watching Law and Order for many years and she is a pro. And after the whole five holes in the fence fiasco we have really lost our touch.

I apologize for my paper being late and a total and utter mess but as you can see I had other more pressing matters to deal with.

Kind regards from a crackhead Swifitie,

Tegan*

*Property of Taylor Swift