#something something i died on the altar waiting for the proof how much sad did you think i had in me holding tight to your quiet resentment

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

"this is how you propose, it's really not that hard" asdfghjkl i'd forgotten about that one 🥴

[cheezecakeee]

txt as taylor swift songs🫧 (angst ver.)

main masterlist | txt masterlist

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

➜ Yeonjun : loml

"If you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary. You and I go from one kiss to gettin married. Still alive, killing time at the cemetery, never quite buried, in your suit and tie, in the nick of time, you lowdown boy, you stand up guy. Holy Ghost, you told me I'm the love of your life, you said I'm the love of your life, about a million times" "You shit talked me under the table, talking rings and talking cradles, I wish I could un-recall, how we almost had it all. Dancing phantoms on the terrace, are they second-hand embarrassed that I can't get out of bed? 'cause something counterfeit's dead" "Oh, what a valiant roar, what a bland goodbye; the coward claimed he was a lion. I'm combing through the braids of lies, "I'll never leave"... "Never mind". Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire, your arson's match your somber eyes and I'll still see it until I die, you're the loss of my life"

➜ Soobin - All you had to do was stay

"People like you always want back the love they gave away and people like me wanna believe you when you say you've changed. The more I think about it now, the less I know, all I know is that you drove us off the road" "Here you are now, calling me up, but I don't know what to say. I've been picking up the pieces of the mess you made. People like you always want back the love they pushed aside but people like me are gone forever when you say goodbye" "Let me remind you, this was what you wanted. You ended it. You were all I wanted but not like this. Not like this" "Hey, all you had to do was stay, had me in the palm of your hand, then why'd you have to go and lock me out when I let you in? Hey, now you say you want it back. Now that it's just too late, well, it could've been easy, all you had to do was stay"

➜ Beomgyu - Maroon

"When the morning came we were cleaning incense off your vinyl shelf, 'cause we lost track of time again. Laughing with my feet in your lap like you were my closest friend, "How'd we end up on the floor anyway?" You say "Your roommate's cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that's how". I see you every day now. And I chose you, the one I was dancin' with in New York, no shoes" "The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me and how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was maroon. The mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones, the lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon" "And I lost you, the one I was dancin' with in New York, no shoes. Looked up at the sky and it was maroon. And I wake with your memory over me, that's a real fucking legacy, legacy. And I wake with your memory over me, that's a real fucking legacy to leave"

➜ Taehyun - So long, London

"I didn't opt in to be your odd man out, I founded the club she's heard great things about; I left all I knew, you left me at the house by the Heath. I stopped CPR, after all it's no use, the spirit was gone, we would never come to and I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free." "And you say I abandoned the ship but I was going down with it, my white knuckle dying grip, holding tight to your quiet resentment and. My friends said it isn't right to be scared every day of a love affair, every breath feels like rarest air when you're not sure if he wants to be there" "So how much sad did you think I had, did you think I had in me? How much tragedy? Just how low did you think I'd go? before I'd self-implode, before I'd have to go be free" "You swore that you loved me but where were the clues? I died on the altar waiting for the proof, you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days and I'm just getting color back into my face, I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place," "For so long, London, had a good run, a moment of warm sun but I'm not the one. So long, London, stitches undone, two graves, one gun, you'll find someone..."

➜ Heuning kai - I bet you think about me

"Well, I tried to fit in with your upper-crust circles, yeah, they let me sit in back when we were in love. Oh, they sit around talkin' 'bout the meaning of life and the book that just saved 'em that I hadn't heard of. But now that we're done and it's over, I bet you couldn't believe when you realized I'm harder to forget than I was to leave. And I bet you think about me" "You grew up in a silver-spoon gated community. Glamorous, shiny, bright Beverly Hills, I was raised on a farm, no, it wasn't a mansion just livin' room dancin' and kitchen table bills. But you know what they say, you can't help who you fall for and you and I fell like an early spring snow, but reality crept in, you said we're too different. You laughed at my dreams, rolled your eyes at my jokes" "Oh, block it all out, the voices so loud, sayin' "Why did you let her go?" Does it make you feel sad that the love that you're lookin' for is the love that you had. Now you're out in the world, searchin' for your soul, scared not to be hip, scared to get old, chasin' make-believe status, last time you felt free was when none of that shit mattered 'cause you were with me" "I bet you think about me when you're out at your cool indie music concerts every week. I bet you think about me in your house with your organic shoes and your million-dollar couch. I bet you think about me when you say, "Oh my God, she's insane, she wrote a song about me". I bet you think about me"

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

[lucifersresources]

taylor swift // the tortured poets department : the anthology rp meme. part one. part two here.

edit/alter/change pronouns etc as you see fit!

fortnight.

i was a functioning alcoholic.

i hope you're okay.

no one here's to blame.

but what about your quiet treason?

for a fortnight there, we were forever.

i wanna kill her.

all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february.

i took the miracle move-on drug.

the effects were temporary.

i love you, it's ruining my life.

my husband is cheating.

i wanna kill him.

the tortured poets department.

i think some things i never say.

you're in self sabotage mode.

i've seen this episode and still loved the show.

who else decodes you?

who's gonna hold you like me?

who's gonna know you, if not me?

this ain't the chelsea hotel.

we're modern idiots.

you awaken with dread.

i chose this cyclone with you.

i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me.

everyone we know understands why it's meant to be.

who else is gonna know me?

that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding.

my boy only breaks his favorite toys.

here we go again.

my boy only breaks his favorite toys.

i'm queen of sand castles he destroys.

i should've known.

we could've played for keeps this time.

i know i'm just repeating myself.

he runs because he loves me.

i knew too much.

there was danger in the heat of my touch.

he saw forever, so he smashed it up.

once i fix me, he's gonna miss me.

i felt more when we played pretend.

he stole my tortured heart.

told me i'm better off, but i'm not.

down bad.

did you really beam me up in a cloud of sparkling dust, just to do experiments on?

i was the chosen one.

this world is bigger than us.

i knew cosmic love.

for a moment, i knew cosmic love.

now i'm down bad.

everything comes out teenage petulance.

fuck it if i can't have him.

fuck it if i can't have us.

they'll say i'm nuts if i talk about the existence of you.

for a moment, i was heavenstruck.

i was heavenstruck.

i loved your hostile takeovers.

how dare you think it's romantic.

fuck it, i was in love.

fuck you if i can't have us.

so long, london.

i kept calm and carried the weight of the rift.

i pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away.

my spine split from carrying us.

i stopped tryna make him laugh.

how much sad did you think i had in me?

you'll find someone.

so long.

i didn't opt in to be your odd man out.

i founded the club she's heard great things about.

i left all i knew.

you left me.

i stopped cpr, after all, it's no use.

the spirit was gone.

i'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free.

two graves, one gun.

i'll find someone.

you say i abandoned the ship, but i was going down with it.

my friends said it isn't right to be scared every day of a love affair.

every breath feels like rarest air when you're not sure if he wants to be there.

how much tragedy did you think i had in me?

just how low did you think i'd go 'fore i'd self implode?

you swore that you loved me.

you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?

i died on the altar waiting for the proof.

you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days.

i'm just getting colour back into my face.

i'm just mad as hell coz i loved this place for so long.

but daddy i love him.

i forget if this was ever fun.

these people only raise you to cage you.

these people try and save you coz they hate you.

they slammed the door on my whole world.

but daddy, i love him.

you should see your faces.

floor it through the fences.

no, i'm not coming to my senses.

i know he's crazy, but he's the one i want.

growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all.

he was chaos, he was revelry.

stay away from her.

the saboteurs protested too much.

i'd rather burn my whole life down.

i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitchin' and moanin'.

i'll tell you something about my good name, it's mine alone to disgrace.

i don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing.

god save the most judgmental creeps who say they want what's best for me.

they think it can change the beat of my heart when he touches me.

you ain't gotta pray for me.

it's just my choice.

scandal does funny things to pride, but brings lovers closer.

we came back when the heat died down.

fuck em, it's over.

time, doesn't it give perspective?

no, you can't come to the wedding.

he's the one i want.

fresh out of the slammer.

i'm running back home to you.

he doesn't understand me.

handcuffed to the spell i was under.

it's gonna be alright, i did my time.

now that i know better i will never lose my baby again.

my friends tried, but i wouldn't hear it.

he kept me going.

i swirled you into all my poems.

ain't no way i'm gonna screw up.

ain't no way i'm gonna screw up now that i know what's at stake here.

florida!!!

they said i was a cheat.

this city reeks of driving myself crazy.

your home's really only a town you're just a guest in.

can i use you up?

me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time.

i'm haunted but i'm feeling just fine.

i did my best to lay to rest all of the bodies that have ever been on my body.

i need to forget.

tell me i'm despicable, say it's unforgivable.

love left me like this and i don't want to exist.

guilty as sin?

this cage was once just fine.

am i allowed to cry?

what if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh only in my mind?

i keep recalling things we never did.

without ever touching his skin how can i be guilty as sin?

there's no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk.

we've already done it in my head.

i've screamed his name.

they're gonna crucify me anyway.

what if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

they don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly.

i choose you and me religiously.

who's afraid of little old me?

you don't get to tell me about 'sad'.

if you wanted me dead, you should've just said.

nothing makes me feel more alive.

who's afraid of little old me?

who's afraid of little old me? you should be.

the scandal was contained.

at all costs, keep your good name.

you don't get to tell me you feel bad.

is it a wonder i broke?

i was tame, i was gentle, till the circus life made me mean.

don't you worry folks, we took out all her teeth.

they didn't do it to hurt you.

i wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me.

you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.

i'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all said?

i'm fearsome and i'm wretched and i'm wrong.

you caged me and then you called me crazy.

i am what i am coz you trained me.

i can fix him (no really i can)

the jokes that he told across the bar were revolting and far too loud.

i can fix him.

i can fix him, no, really, i can. and only i can.

he had a halo of the highest grade.

good boy, that's right.

i'll show you heaven if you'll be an angel.

trust me, i can handle a dangerous man.

loml.

who's gonna stop us waltzing back into rekindled flames?

we were just kids.

i thought i was better safe than starry-eyed.

i felt aglow like this never before and never since.

you and i go from one kiss to getting married.

we're never quite buried.

you told me i'm the love of your life.

you blew in with the winds of fate.

you took me to hell too.

you shit-talked me under the table.

i wish i could un-recall how we almost had it all.

should've let it stay buried.

our field of dreams engulfed in fire.

you're the loss of my life.

i can do it with a broken heart.

she's having the time of her life.

i can show you lies.

i'm a real tough kid.

i can handle my shit.

you gotta fake it till you make it.

lights, camera, bitch, smile, even when you wanna die.

he said he'd love me all his life.

he said he'd love me all his life, but that life was too short.

all the pieces of me shattered.

the crowd was chanting 'more'.

i was grinnin' like i'm winnin'

i was hittin' my marks.

i can do it with a broken heart.

i'm so depressed i act like it's my birthday every day.

i'm so obsessed with him but he avoids me like the plague.

i cry a lot, but i am so productive.

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart.

i keep finding his things in drawers, crucial evidence i didn't imagine the whole thing.

try and come for my job.

the smallest man who ever lived.

was any of it true?

now you know what it feels like.

i don't even want you back.

i just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal.

i don't miss what we had.

could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived?

you hung me on your wall, stabbed me with your push pins.

you didn't measure up in any measure of a man.

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?

were you a sleeper cell spy?

in fifty years, will all this be declassified?

confess why you did it.

good riddance.

it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden.

i would've died for your sins.

i would've died for your sins, instead i just died inside.

you deserve prison, but you won't get time.

you said normal girls were boring.

you were gone by the morning.

in plain sight you hid.

you are what you did.

i'll forget you, but i'll never forgive.

the alchemy.

this happens once every few lifetimes.

what if i told you i'm back?

i'm coming back so strong.

i'm the one to beat.

the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me.

who are we to fight the alchemy?

clara bow.

did you know you'd be picked like a rose?

i might die if it happened to me.

this town is fake, but you're the real thing.

the crown is stained, but you're the real queen.

you're the new god we're worshipping.

beauty is a beast that roars.

it's hell on earth to be heavenly.

[hilovehowareyou]

"You know youre good when you can even do it with a broken heart " - i can do it w a broken heart

" so i did my best to lay to rest all of the bodies that have ever been on my body, and in my mind, they sink into the swamp" - florida

" and i love you, its ruining my life" - fortnight

" all those nights, he kept me goin'. swirled you into all of my poems. Now we're at the starting line, i did my time" - fresh out the slammer

" showed me that this world is bigger than us then sent me back where i came from" - down bad

" down bad wakin' up in blood. starin' at the sky, come back and pick me up" - down bad

" did you take all my old clothes, just to leave me here naked and alone" - down bad

" how dare you think its romantic. Leaving me safe and stranded. Cause fuck it i was in love, so fuck you if i cant have us " - Đm " down bad" làm mình cảm thấy depressed vcl

" if all you want is gray for me, its just white noise, its just my choice" - but daddy i love him

" i'll tell you something 'bout my good name. its mine along with all the disgrace"- but daddy i love him

" 'cause the sign on your heart said its still reserved for me. honestly, who r we to fight the alchemy " - the alchemy

" when your impressionist paintings of heaven turned out to be fakes. you took me to hell too" - loml

" dancing phantoms on the terrace, are they second hand embarrassed that i cant get out of bed 'cause some thing counterfeits dead" - loml

" our field of dreams engulfed in fire. your arson's match, your somber eyes. and i'll still see until i die. you're the loss of my life" - loml

" my spine split from carrying us up the hill. wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill. i stopped trying to make him laugh. stopped trying to drill the safe" - so long, London

" i stopped CPR, after all it's no use. the spirit was gone, we would never come to" - so long london

" and you say I abandoned the ship. but I was going down with it. my white knuckle dying grip" - so long london

" every day of a love affair. every breath feels like rarest air

when you're not sure if he wants to be there. so how much sad did you think I had,

did you think I had in me?" - so long , London

" you swore that you loved me but where were the clues? i died on the altar waiting for the proof. you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days" - so long , London

[bisluthq]

i think a lot of people in this community especially need to sit down and analyze the lyrics of so long london. i listened to podcasts, watched videos breaking it down and really sat with the song myself and jesus.

it is very clear that she tried so damn hard with him. i’m not exactly sure when he started pulling away but from the song it seemed like she was carrying the weight of the relationship for a LONG time. in the first verse she’s talking about him, rather than to him so it seems like she’s adressing london, the place rather than him. which is interesting because in this version, he’s not giving reassurance with the “you’ll find someone” line.

back to the relationship. “stopped try to make him laugh, stopped trying to drill that safe” - the drilling the safe link is so excellent at capturing the end of their relationship and the state of mind he was in. you need to know the combination in order to open a safe, she clearly didn’t hence the drilling. he closed himself off entirely.

taylor explains that he purposefully left her out of things, went out while she stayed at home even though she moved to london to be with him. “i’m pissed of you LET me give you all that youth for free” - meaning he was willingly doing this to her. “how much sad did you think i had in me, how much tragedy”? - again, he’s well aware that she’s sad, that’s why she’s questioning why he’s letting her sink lower and lower. “you say i abandoned the ship but i was going down with it” - he accused her of giving up on their relationship, essentially placing the blame on her for the end of it despite her being the only one trying to salvage the relationship.

“my white knuckle dying grip, holding tight to your quiet resenment” is such a viseral image to me. notice how she’s not holding onto the relationship anymore but rather his quiet hatred for her? “my friends said it isn’t right to be scared EVERY DAY of a love affair” “every breath feels like rarest air when you’re not sure if he wants to be there” - she was literally walking on eggs shells every single day, terrified that i she did or said the wrong thing, he would leave her for somebody else.

“YOU SWORE THAT YOU LOVED ME BUT WHERE WERE THE CLUES” “I DIED ON THE ALTAR WAITING FOR THE PROOF” “you SACRIFICED us to the gods of your bluest days” - he kept telling her he loved with without anything to show for it…literally the most rage provoking thing i’ve ever heard. the altar has a double meaning, wedding altar AND an actual altar where he sacrificed her and their relationship. she died on that altar because he sacrificed her.

at the end of the song she says goodbye to london, the place again. evidenced by her declaration of love for london. that is the only time where she says she loves something. the entire song (ironically) is her showing ways in which she loved him but never once says it, contrasted by him saying it but not doing anything to actually show it.

one of her best track 5s, it’s vulnerable, heartbreaking and at its core, honest.

this is why takes like “omg he was there for her at her worst but she couldn’t do the same for him” and “the only thing he ever did wrong was be sad and not marry her” is not only false but disregards everything she actually said about the relationship. and don’t even get me started on the matty karma bullshit y’all were on for a while. listening to this song and just how much sadness she was carrying (even in her voice) justifies everything that led to the end of the relationship from her side. matty was her escape…the entire album is laced with so many references to taylor escaping into her mind, away from her reality because it is genuinely killing her. matty was part of that. she needed something to hold on to. once she felt like she was ready to leave, she left joe.

I mean I don’t disagree with you - or those prior anons either. I think what you’re doing is seeing Taylor’s POV and those anons were trying to see Joe’s and the point is I don’t think either was trying to hurt the other. It just… stopped working. That happens.

[katiascraft]

BLOG MASTERLIST :)

fluff (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ | smut (｡- .•) | angst (╥﹏╥)

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀ ❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀ ❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀ ❀𖤣𖥧

FORMULA 1 DRIVERS

🇦🇷made in argentina: the series🏁

Lando's version

Part 1, Part 2

Oscar's version

Part 1

Franco's version

Coming soon!

Summary: reader is argentine and Franco Colapinto's bestie (concept).

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

Charles Leclerc

▪︎ STORIES

[“am I too much for you? maybe I’m too much for everyone”] (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

Reader’s perspective. Reader feels insecure but Charles makes sure she knows how important she is to the world (specially his world).

[“you think you won ‘cause you got the man. But honey, you’ll always be a fan”] (╥﹏╥)

Charles has a new girl. And she’s obsessed with you.

“Tender is the night for a broken heart” (╥﹏╥)

You been feeling very sad lately. Your emotional stress is taking you places you didn’t want to back in ever again. And Charles knows it - just wanna make sure you know you are loved despite it all.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣

Lando Norris

▪︎ STORIES

🖤[“tryna find it as a compliment? Kinda feel it like the opposite”] (╥﹏╥) part 1

Reader and Lando broke up a few months ago. You both assist a mutual friend’s birthday party and Lando has a new girl.

🖤[“so sue me for moving on and doing everything by right. For being something you can’t forget”] (╥﹏╥) part 2

Now reader has a girlfriend and thinks she’s all right. But did she really move on?

🩶["You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues? I died on the altar waiting for the proof"] part 1 (╥﹏╥)

You and Lando have been engaged for a while. You thought you were end game but he didn’t love you anymore.

🩶[“I need to confess. I told you a lie. You weren’t the love of my life”] part 2 (╥﹏╥)

You moved on. But Lando didn’t.

[if you were my boyfriend. And I was your girlfriend. Probably wouldn’t see nobody else] (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

You are just ‘friends’.

“If nothing else gets you though. Then darling, I’ll cry with you” (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

Lando was fighting the championship until the Brazil GP happens. Max wins and Lando pretends it’s not a big deal. But you know, it is.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣

Franco Colapinto

[but we were something, don’t you think so? and if my wishes came true, it could’ve been you”] angst (╥﹏╥)

You and franco broke out a year agos. You are now Williams Racing social media manager and he’s an F1 driver. Your job just got a bit harder because of him. Is possible a second chance?

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣

Lewis Hamilton

▪︎ STORIES

["Can't believe you've noticed me"] (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

Reader and Leiws are on vacation. One day under the golden hour he decides to sing you a song he wrote for you.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣

Oscar Piastri

▪︎ STORIES

[“I’ll pay the price I guess”] (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

The world hates you’re dating Oscar.

[“this is how you fall in love”] (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

Oscar is truly, madly, deeply in love with you.

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀ ❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀ ❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀ ❀𖤣𖥧

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[smol-bee-stories]

At the End of Our Lives

Akaashi Keiji sits alone on the engawa overlooking Osaka. It's an awfully quiet day, nothing like the life he's grown used to over the last 70 years. He misses him. After all, Bokuto Koutaro is a man who knows how to leave a mark.

Notes: my second fic! Please leave constructive criticism and comments~

You can also find me on Ao3 at https://archiveofourown.org/users/smol_bee_stories/pseuds/smol_bee_stories

Summers in Osaka are quite warm. They always have been - in the many years that Akaashi Keiji has spent there, there has never been a cool summer. Summers are always warm and humid, filled with the hums of cicadas and grasshoppers alongside the slow trickle of the river. And for the last 70 years, it had been filled with the booming voice of Bokuto Koutaro. But for the first summer in 70 years, that sound was missing.

Bokuto Koutaro died earlier that year. After a well blossomed professional volleyball career and colorful life filled with joy and laughter, he died as all men oneday will. He died in the winter, at the ripe old age of 91 - a peaceful natural death, hand gently placed in Akaashi’s and a smile on his face. Even as Akaashi’s heart shattered in that moment, he couldn’t help but mirror Bokuto’s smile. Spring came late that year.

For the first few months after Bokuto’s passing, Akaashi hadn’t felt too lonely. He supposed it just hadn’t hit him yet, the true weight of being alone. He hadn’t really thought that Bokuto was gone - after all, throughout Bokuto’s career as a star volleyball player turned renowned coach, he was often away from home for months at a time. But now, as Akaashi sat on the engawa, facing towards the lush bloom of his first summer alone, Bokuto’s passing hit him harder than it had yet in all those months since he’s been gone. It was too quiet. The crickets sounded too lonely. His heart felt a little too empty. He missed him.

Bokuto and Akaashi’s lives together had been a rambunctious one. How could it not have been, with a personality like Bokuto’s? Despite Akaashi’s placid nature, there was never a moment of silence. Like all couples, they had their ups and downs. When Bokuto first moved all the way from Tokyo to Osaka to play for the MSBY Jackals, Akaashi thought that that would be the end to his chances with the energetic man. But Bokuto called every night precisely at 10 o’clock - for a whole year and a half he didn’t miss a single call, up until the night Akaashi finally confessed. Bokuto cried (and whined about how long it took) for about an hour that call. Akaashi couldn’t stand to hear him whine then, but only thought fondly of it now. When Akaashi first made the move to Osaka, he was appalled at the state of decay Bokuto’s apartment was in - he knew the man was messy, but the level of mess that Bokuto was living in truly was beyond human comprehension. Akaashi almost left that moment. But they made it through (well, he made it through), and they got married the year after, moving into a home of their own that Akaashi had put quite a bit of effort (and for years to come, continued to put quite a bit of effort) into keeping tidy. The next 60 years were just like the last 10, their relationship like the rivers of Osaka that their home overlooked - full of push and pulls, but constant and steady. They spent their lives loving each other through the storms, holding onto each other even as other constants disappeared. And now that Akaashi was without the one constant that’s anchored him for the last 70 years of his life, for the first time in decades, he didn’t know what to do.

For the first time, as Akaashi’s old and aging body looked out into the warm summer fields of Osaka that he had grown so familiar with, he didn’t feel any joy. He felt an ache in his chest that was quiet, yet it raged through him without any end in sight. He missed Bokuto stomping through the house with their grandchildren on his back. He missed Bokuto asking him to play volleyball with him, despite the fact that neither of them could move very well anymore. He missed Bokuto spilling the tea in little droplets on their guests as he served it to them. He missed Bokuto’s loud snores as Akaashi sat on the engawa and read. He missed Bokuto so much it felt as though he were being swept away, no longer anchored to the blissful reality he had grown so used to and instead drifting in a sea of anguish. He wished so badly to hold Bokuto once more, to see him once more - even if just to whisper one last “I love you.” Akaashi was hurting.

But even as he sat on the engawa, visibly alone and heart aching, all around him Akaashi could still see Bokuto. Along the length of the engawa, he could see multiple stains left by the various spills Bokuto often made. In the yard, he could see the tree where Bokuto had carved their names and the names of their children. Just past the tree, he could see the river where Bokuto almost drowned their former Fukurodani teammates on a disastrous fishing trip. Love is not perfect, and almost everyday Akaashi was reminded of this. Even now with Bokuto gone. But love is good, and it is constant. Bokuto had been his constant, and Akaashi knew that he would always be his constant. Love is a fickle creature, and it refuses to be forgotten.

He would remember Bokuto in the starlit sunset and cool summer nights. He would remember him in tempura dinners that he now ate alone and loud conversations by the dinner table. He would remember him in the gleaming eyes of their grandchildren and the volleyball courts that they passed down to them. He would remember him as strong arms holding him through the storm and quiet breaths of “I love you.” And there was no way he could ever forget him - Bokuto made sure of that when he engraved himself into every piece of Akaashi’s soul. Bokuto was and is every part of Akaashi’s being, and even if he were somewhere far away Akaashi knew they would find their way to one another again. They always did.

“I always knew I would go first. Always wanted to be first at everything, used up all my energy instead of saving it like you told me to.” “And yet you continue to waste the last of your energy making stupid jokes.” “Akaaaaaaaashi, c’mon, I’m literally on my deathbed, say somethin’ sweet.” “Koutarou, we’ve been married for years now, stop calling me Akaashi.” “But it’s the name I called you when we first met! Remember how you promised to set for me? Haha, look at us now. To me, you’ll always be Akaashi.” “Koutarou…” Akaashi hadn’t meant to, he had been trying really hard to fight it, but his voice cracked before he could stop it. “C’mon Keiji, don’t be sad, it happens to the best of us, obviously, seeing as *I’m* dying.” “Stop speaking so loudly, you’ll wear yourself out faster.” “But there’s still so much I wanna say…” "There's always something you want to say, Kou." Silence falls between them for a moment as Bokuto’s spirit falters. He’s fading away, going somewhere Akaashi can’t reach yet. “Hey Keiji..” “Yes Koutarou?” “I don’t know what’s waiting after this life. Heaven, reincarnation, whatever - I don’t really care… but promise me.” A shaky breath. “Promise me that no matter where we end up, you’ll find me again. Cuz this may be the end of my life, but it sure as hell ain’t the end of ours.” Akaashi was sobbing now. Of all times for Bokuto to suddenly become eloquent. “I promise. I promise, Koutarou.” Silence fell on them as Bokuto’s breaths shallowed. “What a shame. We almost made it to 71.” A grin. “70’s a pretty good number.” A soft smile littered in tears. “I love you, Koutarou.” “Love you too, Keiji. See you soon.” And with that, Bokuto was gone with a smile on his face. And despite the tears falling from Akaashi’s eyes, he couldn’t help but smile back.

When they made their vows at the altar that day - no, even before that day, long before they made their vows - when they were just two high school boys playing volleyball together, they had known that their lives would be inexplicably intertwined. From the moment his name left Bokuto’s lips, Akaashi’s life was Bokuto’s just as Bokuto’s was his. Even now, as Akaashi sat alone on the engawa without Bokuto’s booming presence, he knew through the aching pain that he would never be truly alone. The ring on his finger was proof of that much, and the world that they had built in the last 70 years spent together was its testament. His life was no longer his alone - it hadn’t been for a long time now, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Akaashi gathered up the book that was sitting on his lap, heaving through old bones as he got up from his spot on the engawa, making his way inside. After all, it was almost time to go watch their granddaughter’s volleyball game.

Notes:

[crossedbeams]

History - Trinity Ch. 9

Genre: Casefile | Fandom: The X-Files x The Fall x Sreetcar | Rating: Mature | Setting: Circa 2012. Canon compliant | Chapters: 2/6 of Part 2

Trinity Part I

Chapter 1 - Perfume || Chapter 2 - Impression || Chapter 3 - Connection Chapter 4 - Delusion || Chapter 5-  Confrontation || Chapter 6 - Post Mortem

Trinity Part I

Prologue - Purgatory || Chapter 2 - Animosity

TRINITY: PART II CHAPTER II - History

Blanche Dubois sways slightly in her seat, so frail in the halogen brightness that it seems that an especially assertive huff from the air-conditioner might blow her away. Scully tries not to let her feelings show on her face, trying to retain her bedside manner, but seated next to the marble-composure of Stella Gibson, she feels like an open book. Scully has expressed concern to both the officer-in-charge and to Blanche herself that this interview is too much, too soon, that the post-nightmare sedation received has barely left her system, but it seems Blanche’s mind is made up. There’s a set to her jaw that stills the usual nervous flutter of her hands, as if her determination to verbalise the perceived threat gives her the power to escape it. Yesterday they were treated to a flurry of words, images and half-truths about her past but today is different; today she flits between periods of haunted silence and scuds of hard words, heavy with exhaustion and bitter with truth.

‘I met him in Miami one Christmas.

I had to get out of Laurel. I couldn’t breathe for the rumours and the boiler was as played out as I, so I figured why not fly south with the birds. I had a friend in Miami, Mrs. Meghan Sands, a girl from school who still sent pretty letters and empty invitations from time to time, and was far enough away that she wouldn’t know any better than to let me stay a while. The first few days were golden, like in that song. The fates allowed us to get along and I didn’t need to go out looking for someone like I’d planned to… I didn’t even need the bourbon I’d stowed in my suitcase. I thought my luck might be changing, she had a bachelor friend who was kind and attentive and the climate suited me well. It was my little Christmas miracle... until the night Meg had a headache and went up early, and Mr. Sands poured us both one too many drinks and then tried to kiss me. I screamed and that was the end of it. Women don’t like to keep other women that their husbands think of kissing under their roofs, regardless of who started it.’

Blanche smiles wanly at her sad philosophy, threading her fingers through her hair to push it off her face, searching Scully’s face for some flicker of understanding and ignoring Stella completely. Normally Stella commands the room, a cold clear light of absolute certainty, but Blanche’s narrative is a firelight flicker, unpredictable and prone to flare or fail. After yesterday’s experience, the British detective seems reluctant to push her witness to the point of hysteria, so she simply sits, waiting for Blanche to arrive at her destination and leaves Scully alone in the half-light of half-truth. 

Nodding her encouragement, Scully squeezes her hands together under the table, trying desperately not to fidget and betray her discomfort to either her witness or her colleague. The grey areas between belief and proof have always belonged to Mulder and his absence makes her feel both incomplete and an imposter. Her relief shakes past her lips on a long-held breath when Blanche finally breaks the silence to continue; claiming back the spotlight before it can reveal too much of her questioner.

‘There's something about me that makes people think I’m trying to seduce, even when I’m not, some scarlet letter that burns through my purest intentions and draws down the worst of men. It seems Hester Prynne and I both wear clothes cut from the same cloth. Maybe she was forced and I bought mine, but nobody made me stay in Miami. Nobody forced me into that hotel, through those bars, into those dresses that covered less than they ought. There were men, some of them as rich as I’d dreamed they would be, but all just window shopping while they waited on a younger model, and as the New Year rocketed in my money was gone and all hopes of finding that elusive millionaire dwindled with the fireworks.

I’d decided I was washed up, that I’d have to go to my sister, when he slid into my booth and paid off my tab. He was younger than me, not exactly handsome but somehow imposing, and he took my hand with the gentleness of a child and kissed it.’

The thin white hand on the table shakes at the memory, at the hard bones of truth hiding just under the fragile skin of her memory.

‘I asked if he was a knight in shining armour and he said no. His voice was caught between accents and soft. I could hardly hear him over the music in the bar but his body curved round like a shield and I thought perhaps I could be safe there.

I asked him if he was a millionaire and he said he could be and smiled.

I knew he wasn’t. After two more drinks I knew he wasn’t there to rescue me, but in his smile, in his hand and his eyes, there was something more intoxicating than liquor or wealth; he needed me. Not in the way that all men need a woman when their libido is high and their morals low, but on some deeper level. He looked at me like a baby looks at its mama holding it, like a man looks at his wife at the altar, as if I were the only one who could give him what he needed and he would die without it. Without me.

I went with him willingly, legs unsteady enough that I leaned on his shoulder even after we got in the cab. He held my face in the crook of his shoulder and neck, hiding me from the world, and I didn’t think anything of it when he pressed his handkerchief into the gap between my face and his neck. At first I was pleasantly surprised he carried a handkerchief, I thought they died out with chivalry, so when I found I was getting dizzy I assumed it was the drinking. I tried to move, to get some fresh air, but he shushed me and held me still until everything dissolved to nothing.

I woke up in an unfamiliar place, naked, cold and tied to a mattress with plastic sheets on it by my pantyhose and underwear. He was standing at the end of the bed and crying. He still looked young, but no longer innocent, the blankness in his eyes frightened me more than the surroundings and I cried out. He didn’t move, just kept staring; not at my body but at my face, so I screamed until he did move. An alarm went off somewhere out of sight and it seemed to break the spell. He forced another cloth against my mouth and held my nose closed so I had to breathe through the copper-sour fabic. It choked me, stealing my sound and my air until I passed out again.

The next time I woke up I was alone and the whole place stank like cooking. Something greasy and burned, a poor man’s hell. I stayed quiet a few minutes, until I was sure I couldn’t hear anyone around so I started trying to get free. My arms were tied to a grille over the window and when I pulled it bent before my arms did, but it was loud, the metal screaming or maybe it was me. Either way I panicked, freeing my hands as fast as I could so I could at least scratch and hit when the moment came. Except nobody came. Only quiet.

The room had a door but it was locked and when I threw myself at it, the whole placed swayed and creaked. I realised then I must be in a trailer, there was no sound of the sea for it to be a boat but I was just as marooned as if it had been. I couldn’t shift the door, the windows were boarded tight, so all I could do while I sat in this trap was look for a weapon. The little kitchen was almost empty, plastic over everything but the oven door which was leaking the acrid burning smell. I wondered if I was being poisoned while I looked for the knives, you know the poem? “An ecstasy of fumbling,” and I had Wilfred Owen but no knives. No nothing but the built in furniture and something blackened and unrecognisable smoking in the oven.

Perhaps he meant to burn me. but there was no flame, just as there was no gas...no sign of his intentions at all. I was the mouse in his humane trap, captured and waiting for some other, undecided death. The trailer was small but I never felt so exposed as I did then, shut in this empty living, dying space with no protection and no way out.’

Blanche has shrunk in her chair, muscles contracting her down to her smallest self as though she can hide now as she couldn’t then, and Scully fights the urge to try and comfort her, to try and heal. But they need their truth and from the sounds of overzealous punctuation and seat shifting to her her left, Scully suspects Stella’s patience is wearing thin.

‘I shut myself in the bathroom. The door was barely solid but it locked from the inside and I felt safer in the tiny space, there was less room for fear especially when I found an old shirt stuffed between the shower and the toilet. I had clothes, I had a locked door, I was still alive and there was a cold, clean draft that helped me to clear my head. I sat there until I started shivering, wishing I could dissolve into atoms and escape with the air rattling through the vent. It took me much too long to realise that maybe I could, that cold air meant outside and outside might mean escape. When I stood on the toilet I could see stars around the ventilation hatch, just a few spots of light where things didn’t fit together properly, I can’t count how many times stars have showed me my way, but I caught Orion by his belt and followed one hunter away from another…

I don’t remember jumping down, but I must have because I do remember running; my feet shredding on the rough ground, losing myself in the night time under the stars with no plan or direction in mind other than other than away. Far away. I didn’t even look back. That’s the first thing they teach you when running track you know? Looking back slows you down. So I ran until I saw lights besides the stars, and then the lights were a road and the road had cars and I tried to stop them but nobody would help me until the police came.

I tried to tell them, tried to explain who I was and what had happened but they thought I was drunk. And then they took me into the station and looked me up and my record made them think I was really drunk.’

Scully interrupts then,

‘They didn’t take a statement? Or make any attempt to corroborate your story?’

Blanche regards the table with unnecessary interest.

‘They called the bar where I was and the barman said I’d left willingly with a guy. Just like the last few nights. I said that was true but what happened after was different. And they said I’d only been gone a few hours. And I said a few hours that I didn’t want to be gone! And then… they said they could do a test... To find out if I’d been… forced... because then there was a crime.’

She starts making nervous circles on the table with one slim, white finger.

‘I told them no. I told them…. I told them… I hadn’t. I knew I hadn’t. I know what - and then they said that there was no crime to investigate, that what people did in their bedrooms was their business, that maybe I should drink less and be more careful about who I “kept company” with.’ Blanche ceases making the circles and replaces them with sharp, slashing lines across the grain of the wood. Scully’s stomach has hollowed out and she glances sideways to see Stella’s lips set in a thin, furious line, the first time they have both responded to their witness in the same way.

‘I got angry then.’ Blanche admits, though her fury is written in every line of her pposture and the bitter strikes she is marking on the table. ‘And I shouted at them, told them that I might have started out drunk but that they were the ones who weren’t seeing clearly. They were the deluded ones! They laughed at that until I called them some very vulgar things. Then they put me in a cell and in the morning they gave me some pants out of lost property and let me go. I went back to Laurel that night.’

The fight drains out of her then, remembered anger giving way to resignation as Blanche finally widens her focus to include Stella, and then leans in a little, voice low with something not far from exhaustion and laced with the shame of defeat.

‘I thought about staying... about trying to prove myself. But I thought I was more likely to be found by the boy with the dead eyes than to find the truth and get anyone to believe me. You know it as well as I do Detective Gibson, all stories have power, but there’s danger in the telling. My love of magic, of fairytale colours in a bleak world makes me an “unreliable witness.” In this man’s world people are supposed to be one thing or another, beauty or a bitch, a wife or a wastrel. I tell stories, drink cocktails with strangers, dance alone until last orders and therefore I am judged a liar, a drunk and a floozy. There’s no place for those women in the witness stand so instead I ran.

I’ve always run. I’d like to run now but I’m so very, very tired.’ She looks to the door as if it leads to some far-flung escape and not just another corridor, her body leaning towards the imagined escape before retreating with a sigh. ‘Everything looks better when it’s moving fast, and the bad things pass sooner. Sometimes they even hurt less.’

‘Did the bad things pass?’ Stella’s voice is the calm after the storm of the story and Blanche looks up and laughs, though the sound holds no humour.

‘Detective Gibson… Stella... in your line of work you must know that people like me are never far from disaster. If I were a ship, my anchor would be calamity, weighing the end of a long chain that sometimes I can lift enough to move a little but that always pulls me back. But yes, for the purpose of this meeting, the bad thing passed. I never saw that person again. That bad thing became one more shadow in my past and other things, some of them better, took over my days. A little colour in all the whiteness, a little warmth to hold back the dark...’

‘Until last night?’ Stella clarifies, and Blanche nods.

‘He’s older now, not much but there are deeper lines and a scar where there didn’t used to be. He burned his face into my nightmares when he stood and watched me scream. I’d know him anywhere.’

‘I hope she’s right,’ Stella mutters absently as they go over their notes in an empty interview room. Next door, Blanche Dubois is sitting with a police sketch artist.

‘About what?’ Scully can’t quite keep the incredulity out of her voice. She’s still haunted by the desperate hold of Blanche’s gaze across the table, by the unspoken plea in her voice that cut straight through the veneer of police detachment Scully had painted on in preparation. That story, half-hidden though it was behind poetic embellishments, had connected with both her doctor’s need to heal and the long dormant hunger for justice, truth and fairness that Mulder had always appealed to to convince her of a tenuous case. Blanche Dubois has made her believe, and the idea that Stella can remain unmoved, unaffected by the scars laid bare before them...

Stella looks up, confused by the harsh edge to Scully’s words and somehow sees and understands all that she cannot verbalise in the shared space of a conflicted blue gaze.

‘I was talking about being able to recognise her attacker’s face anywhere. Not the rest of it. I…’ Stella pauses, caught between instinctively presenting her most resilient self and sharing an honest moment.

Screw it.

Dana Scully has forgiven several misreadings, has proved herself invaluable to the investigation and she doesn’t seem the type to exploit a crack in another woman’s armour. Her trust is worth the risk, and so Stella sighs, leans forward to massage her temples and lets her words fall softly into the quiet of the room.

‘I wish that I didn’t think the rest of it was true. It would be much, much easier to squeeze Ms. Dubois for information if I hadn’t seen that same face in a thousand interviews. But I have, I’ve seen it all, I’d recognise that truth anywhere; the eyes pleading to be believed, the hands holding the tension of the trauma, legs pressed tight together as if it weren’t already too late to protect what has been taken. And the voices… I’m halfway across the world but it’s always the same. Fear and anger, sadness, hurt and shame... that’s the worst, the fact that any woman anywhere could blame herself for what an assailant took from her. That chord of desperation, denial and survival? That victim symphony? You can’t fake it.’

She looks up, cate sight of the personal question forming on Scully’s lips and folds her arms to fed off any further intrusion.

‘Blanche Dubois is a victim, I know that that much is true, though I still don’t know of whom. But even if I did, I have to force that knowledge to the back of my mind to do my job. I have to separate the woman from the witness, the same way you pathologists view a cadaver as a case and not a person. Perhaps at times I go too far in that separation, when the stakes are high…’ Stella stops, head bowed, and tries to push away a memory of Blanche Dubois’ agonised face when confronted with an identity parade of the dead, to stop herself feeling the disappointed blaze of Dana Scully’s protective instinct.

And then there’s a small hand on her elbow, a note of forgiveness at her side.

‘Sometimes we all go too far trying to do the right thing.’ Scully’s words are heavy with years of experience and her smile is sad. For a brief but binding moment the air in the room is one of sisterhood, and then a wash of boisterous male voices swings past in the corridor and reality crashes back into the foreground.

Stella shakes herself and turns her smile professional while Scully’s hand retreats to close up her notes.

‘I think you should be looking for your possible first victim in Miami’s Jane Does,’ she says, as if nothing has happened. ‘Your perp had a kill room set up, and I think it’s unlikely he walked away from it. With that timeframe, we may be looking further back than we thought.’

Stella nods her agreement.

‘Let’s go tell Stanning,’ she says. ‘That should give him something to be petty and pissed-off about in the afternoon briefing.’

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Thank you as always to @therobbinsnest @stellagibsonisalifeforce and @carrie11 without whom this would be an utter mess.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Personally I want her to continue discussing her own creations and how creating and redidicating her love songs to her new guy feels and the problem with muses and how her exe guy was put on such a high pedistel but it was all an illusion and he kinda didn't deliver et cetera. Frankly for TTPD i was expecting at least one "our love was gold but now you're hearts tin" metaphor.

anon tbh I wasn't going to answer this because like I've said before, I really don't want to get into the muses of it all in that way here because I don't think there's anything to add to the conversation (definitely not for me anyway). Which isn't to say you or other people can't feel that way and talk about it, to be clear! Just not what I want to talk about on my blog for the most part.

BUT, while on the first listen or two of TTPD I was surprised that there wasn't more, let's say, overt reference to a certain muse, like I said in this post last night, he is all over the album in the subtext. And frankly, I think there is actually quite a bit of reference in the album to some of the themes you mention, even if it's metaphor at times.

The idealizing of the muse but it coming crashing down? I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift. I founded the club she's heard great things about. You say I abandoned the ship but I was going down with it. Handcuffed to the spell I was under for just one hour of sunshine. My friends tried, but I wouldn't hear it, watched me daily disappearing for just one glimpse of his smile. He was a hot house flower to my outdoorsmen.

Didn't deliver on promises made and the implosion of their plans? Say it once again with feeling how the death rattle breathing silenced as the soul was leaving, the deflation of our dreaming leaving me bereft and reeling. Years of labor, locks and ceilings, in the shade of how he was feeling. I left all I knew, you left me at the house by the Heath. So how much sad did you think I had in me? How much tragedy? You swore that you loved me but where were the clues? I died on the altar waiting for the proof. (Honourable mention: How long could we be a sad song 'til we were too far gone to bring back to life? And I wouldn't marry me either, a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her. Do something, babe, say something.)

There's so much there about love gone cold. I stopped CPR, after all it's no use, the spirit was gone, we would never come to. Splintered back in winter, silent dinners, bitter, he was with her in dreams. Gray and blue and fights and tunnels. And so a touch that was my birthright became foreign.

I don't doubt she's going to be processing that relationship and its end for awhile, mot because she's hung up on it but because it was just a huge growth experience she'll be unpacking as she gains more distance from it. (Just the same way she's unpacked the Jake relationship from "chaotic first true love" to "problematic first adult relationship" to something... darker.) And it may show up in other music, sure. But my impression from the album, and especially from the epilogue and from the various posts about it, is that she isn't keen on hashing things out to such a direct degree in the future. I could be totally wrong, but I got the feeling that with TTPD she was closing the book on that. (I have some guesses as to why, but they're not needed here and again veer into the parasocial I think. The very abridged cliff notes version of it is: they went through a lot together and were both dealing with their own shit separately and as a couple over the years, and while that doesn't excuse any way she was treated, I think it's more nuanced in her mind than "he was a shitty boyfriend and I'm mad".)

It's kind of like some of her other relationships and experiences: I don't doubt those feelings and the way those feelings have evolved will show up in future music. I just don't expect it to show up in a "now that I'm in a healthy relationship where I feel supported and cherished FUCK YOU [insert name here]". I'm exaggerating but you get the point.

(not criticizing you anon or anyone else, just saying-- this isn't something I particularly want to contribute to)