#taylor swift AND the songs from anime keep showing up weird...

[loosesodamarble]

Other Morgsele Songs

More songs for the Morgsele ship time!

As before, I'm going to simply share the songs here without any explanation/analysis.

.........

The Day I Knew Love by HoneyWorks

Become the Wind by Ayano Tsuji

Kirameki by wacci

Someone You Like by The Girl and the Dreamcatcher

There's Nothind Holdin' Me Back by Shawn Mendes

Datte Atashi no Hero. by LiSA

One More Step by Axero

Classic by MKTO

Nanairo Symphony by COALAMODE.

Crazier by Taylor Swift

Let Me Be Your Wings by Barry Manilow

Rather Be by Clean Bandit

Haruka by YOASOBI (lowkey goes both ways)

Invisible Sensation by UNISON SQUARE GARDEN

Our Song by Taylor Swift

I'll Be by Edwin McCain

Tenohira by HERO

Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeren

Eternal Love from Final Fantasy XIII

Wake Me Up by Avicii

My Song My Days by SOLIDEMO

BEAUTIFUL by TREASURE

Heaven Knowns by Five for Fighting

The Girl Who Has Everything from Tangled The Series

When Love Is True from The Count of Monte Cristo musical

The Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond

I Didn't Say Goodbye from Mad Ones musical

Daybreak and Fireflies by n-buna (a song from Josele's point of view but I think it's key to understanding the ship)

Orange by 7!! (again from Josele's perspective but it's a song very important to their relationship, especially post Morgen's death and as like a final culmination of sorts)

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

Idk if you do one shots inspired in songs, but if so, Would you mind doing one with a Taylor Swift's song which is called "The 1"? With Mason Mount please

< i love taylor so much and i really hope i didn’t completely butcher this, but thanks for the challenge :) >

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT

the 1

( WARNING: little bit of angst and fluff?, swearing )

word count: 1.8k

Things don’t often go as we expect them to, and it’s often incredibly difficult to replan your life around that massive change and adapt your lifestyle so you can — in reality — live again.

It’s like trying to find your feet when you’re in the air — it feels impossible but you know with time you’ll eventually meet the ground again.

That’s what it felt like when you and Mason broke up four years ago.

You were fresh out of uni and at the time, you really thought he’d be it for you, and honestly, so did he. A break up thrown into the mix of having to navigate adult life just seemed to put a huge stopper on all your plans; the holiday you two had both booked for a weekend away in Ireland, the meals out with friends that you had to cancel, and the house showings you were set to attend.

Looking back on your relationship now, you realise it wouldn’t have been the worst thing to end up with Mason. All the years and effort and time put into loving him were — without a doubt — some of the best years of your life (at that stage in life), and did you regret it?

Not one single bit.

But four years is the perfect amount of time to heal, remove the salt from the wound and finish grieving.

But he was here. In real life.

You’d imagined running into him in the supermarket or on a night out with your friends, but a bus stop?

That one was weird. Mainly because you both hated catching the bus with a burning passion.

But it lead to a catch up over coffee.

It was a quiet place, out of the way of the usual lunchtime hustle and bustle in the city, and for that you were grateful. You could hear your own thoughts.

It was awkward at first, you couldn’t keep your eyes from fixating on his figure, his features, because four years can really change a person. He was much broader, his hair a little shorter, but he was still that same Mason you once loved.

You knew that because the first thing he did when he sat down was offer you that cheeky, charming smile that had you hooked from the second you met.

He’d asked how you were, and you answered honestly: you were living well, your best life, and to the fullest. And you knew and he knew that it wasn’t a lie.

He could tell by the smile on your face and the new, sparkling band on your wedding finger. He half expected that blow to sting a little — that you’d found someone and he hadn’t, but he was never one to be bitter whatsoever, at least, not when it came to you.

Instead, he offered his congratulations and the only inkling of regret he held was not being there when it happened.

I guess you never know, never know,

And if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed,

And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow,

And it’s alright now.

There was silence after that.

You had one thing on your mind, and you knew by the way he was looking at you that he was also thinking the same thing.

You took a sip of your coffee.

He mirrored your actions, seemingly startled when you placed your mug onto your saucer, the chink of porcelain against porcelain echoing around the small shop cutting through the previous quietness.

“I think I hated you for a while.” You murmured, and if Mason wasn’t leant over the table slightly, he would’ve missed the statement completely.

He nodded in understanding, his brown eyes shining with the faintest hint of guilt.

“I think I was so frustrated with the idea that we just…didn’t work, and I blamed it on you.” You paused, fingers twisting your rings.

He paused, mulling over his words, “And now? Still hate me now?”

You bit back a small smile and met his eyes, “No…I think it’d take a whole load of bad shit to get me to hate you.”

He smiled.

“That’s good to know.”

“I mean, I think it was a long time coming anyway, that break up.”

“It didn’t feel right for a while.”

“No,” you agreed, “as much as it hurt to admit, I think we just failed…as a couple. There was a point where we were just together for the sake of not giving up on the relationship, but with no real reason to continue.”

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool,

And if my wishes came true,

It would've been you,

In my defense, I have none,

For never leaving well enough alone,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

He seemed to ponder over your words, and although he never voiced it, he came to the conclusion that you’d just put into words — perfectly — the itch that had been tickling his brain for the past few years.

“Despite that, you can’t deny that we weren’t something…” he started, before breaking off and shaking his head, as if the mere thought was ridiculous.

“We were something special. I think, had things stayed like they were in the beginning, that…you and I…” you waved your hand, tilting your head, and he nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Me too. I think…in another life we could have made each other happy. It would have been fun.”

The words ‘if you would’ve been the one’ echoed in your head, and despite the passive aggressiveness of your conscience, you found yourself holding back a smile.

“Water fights in winter and eggs with ketchup…perfect. I’d never have gotten tired of that.” You mused, and he spluttered slightly on his coffee, laughing along with you in what felt like a decade.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit,

Having adventures on your own,

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home,

We never painted by the numbers, baby,

But we were making it count,

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

“Then again, who knows? Maybe you’ll fall over in the airport and some lucky person will help you off the floor—”

“You’re about to say something cheesy, aren’t you?” Mason covered his mouth, scrunching his nose in anticipation as you nodded.

“All this nostalgic bullshit has me emotional! I swear, just this once…just this once, and I promise you can laugh about it afterwards.” You swore, holding out your pinkie for confirmation.

He didn’t hesitate, and linked your pinkie.

“You’ll find someone else. It’ll be love at first sight—hey, let me have this moment…maybe love at second sight, knowing you… you’ll go to some really magical place and have the most amount of fun you’re ever gonna have…hikes, skydiving, looking after animals I’m sanctuaries…you’re gonna have the time of your life — like Grey and Swayze.” You sniggered, unable to hold in your laughs at the ridiculous scenarios.

Mason pulled a face, unable to hide a smile.

“Okay, okay. End of story: they’ll be perfect. The Chandler to your Monica or the Robin to your Ted. But, you understand what I’m talking about, right?” You asked, sighing out of frustration.

“You’re saying I’ll find my person.” He concluded, sitting back in his chair.

“Yeah.”

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family,

And it would've been sweet,

If it could've been me,

In my defense, I have none,

For digging up the grave another time,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

“Like…your grandma and grandad. I want what they have.” Mason smiled.

“They’ll be pleased to hear that,” you said, “I don’t think they’re quite over us yet. You were too…you at family meals. They fell in love with you too.”

This time Mason really laughed. Really laughed. He threw his head back and the people working at the counter turned to look at him, fighting their own smiles at his carefree nature.

What you’d said wasn’t even that funny.

“Too me? Thanks, I think?”

“Oh, that’s definitely a compliment. You’re too damn charming for your own good, it’s a problem. You should come with a warning label on your forehead: EASY TO LOVE.”

“That’ll solve a lot of problems.”

There was silence.

It was relieving to say the least.

“That whole conversation was about four years too late.” You said, pursing your lips.

“Better late than never.” Mason murmured, his eyes trained on you.

The pressure on your shoulders was lifted. All the things that needed to be said were said.

As time passes, the wound heals — sometimes, but in your case, that was true, as hard as it was to come to that conclusion — and it suddenly became easier to recall the loss of what might have been without bringing you back to wishing it would be again.

It was nice.

“Would it be totally inappropriate—”

“Not at all.” You interrupted, shrugging at his raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t know what I was going to say.” He chuckled.

“I’ll have you know that years of knowing you granted me the issue of knowing what you’re going to say,” You said, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

“What was I going to say?” He challenged, “If you get it right, I’ll get you tickets to the next game.”

You raised your brows.

“Confident, are we?”

He shrugged, a smug smirk on his lips.

“I don’t think it’s totally inappropriate to be friends.” At your words, he slumped in his chair, hands going to cover his face.

“No.” He groaned, repeating the word like a mantra as you pumped the air with your fist.

“Three tickets to the next game in the bag.” You bragged.

“Honestly.” He whined, peeling his hands away. “Why are you so difficult?”

“You offered the terms.”

“Why am I so dumb?” He rephrased.

“Ah, I'm afraid only you can answer that one.”

“The brain cells I have left don’t have enough energy to come up with an answer to a question as philosophical as that one—yes, it was philosophical to me, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” You promised, putting your hands in the air in surrender.

“Just remember who’s going to give you those tickets, yeah?” He teased, sitting up.

“Abusing your power, nice move.”

“Oh…shut up.”

“Weak.” You coughed, trying to disguise the fact you said anything.

He looked straight at you, highly unimpressed by your tactics.

“Very original.” Was all he said.

“Is it supposed to be this easy?” You blurted out, spitting out the words before you could rethink the consequences of them being thrown into the abyss between you and Mason.

He knitted his brows together in thought.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “but we were friends way before, it’s not hard to fall back into old habits. I think that’s why it’s so easy.”

[shemarmooresfedora]

Fine Furry Friends

Summary: How the Reid family grew by a few paws. (This is a stand-alone one-shot of my completed ‘Rebuilding Family’ series)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: pure fluff, brief mention of pet death (doesn’t actually happen)

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: i imagine season 15 spencer but this is the only gif with him and an animal

Masterlist

Spencer was doing dishes when he heard you pull into the driveway. He looked up to see you rushing so much that you almost hit the trash can with your car.

You practically leapt out of the car, grabbing your purse but managing to spill the contents all over the driveway. After a few futile moments of trying to collect the things, you gave up, running inside with only your phone.

“Spencer!” you yelled.

“In here, love,” he called back, wiping his hands on the dish towel.

He heard the quick clicking of your heels as you sped walk into the kitchen. You were on the verge of tears as you unlocked your phone.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked.

You silently showed him a picture of an old black cat with gray streaks of hair as your lip quivered.

“I know I used to ‘mind-read’ for a living but I’m going to need a little more than this,” Spencer spoke.

“They’re going to kill her, Spence,” you cried.

“Who is her? The cat? And who is they?” Spencer patiently questioned his distraught wife.

“This is the last day to adopt Ms. Whiskers or the shelter is going to put her down,” you wept, “She’s perfectly healthy but no one wants her because she’s old.”

“Y/N, we’ve already got 3 young children, do we really need a cat in the mix?” Spencer sighed.

“Cats practically take care of themselves,” you explained through sobs, “Unless you’re saying you don’t want her too because she’s old. What is wrong with you, Spencer? Are you going to throw me to the curb when I’m old with gray hair too?”

“No, no, how could you even think that, love?” Spencer pulled you in for a hug.

He knew you didn’t really mean that but you were just very worked up about this.

“I just saw it on instagram today and I really don’t want this cat to die,” you sobbed into his chest.

“A cat is dying?” Jo stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

You wiped your eyes, pulling away from Spencer’s chest, “At a shelter, yes,” you decided it was better to just tell her the truth.

“But why?” Jo began to form tears in her eyes as well.

“Sometimes there is no longer room at the shelter for all the animals so they have to let a few of them go,” you knelt down to her level.

“But I don’t want the cat to die,” Jo, not even having seen the picture of the cat yet, was already attached.

“It may be out of our control, sweetheart. I don’t know if it’s possible to-” you tried to console your crying child.

“Nope,” Spencer grabbed his keys, “Everyone load up, we’re going to save a cat.”

Jo wiped her tears away, “Really, Daddy? Do we get to keep them?”

“We can keep them until we find a nice owner, how about that?” Spencer offered.

You and Jo nodded enthusiastically with puffy red eyes.

Despite Spencer’s deal, no posters were ever hung, no texts were ever typed, no social media posts were ever made. As soon as you got home, that cat had already found its owners and it was the Reids.

That’s how you ended up with pet number one who had been renamed to Willow after Jo’s favorite Taylor Swift song.

She was later renamed again to simply “Kitty” because Willow was a bit of a mouthful for the twins.

-

“Spencer…” you wrapped your arms around him as he was folding laundry, “You know how you are just the best husband ever and I love you so much.”

“What did you do?” he chuckled, amused.

“I can’t just remind my husband how much I love him?” you pouted.

“You can and you already do but this,” he motioned to your excessive sappiness, “this is weird.”

“Christmas is coming up and I think I know the perfect gift for the kids,” you grinned.

Spencer leaned back against the washing machine with his arms crossed, “I’m listening.”

“A puppy!” you exclaimed.

Spencer turned back around, “I’m no longer listening.”

“You know how much they adore Kitty and as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t know how many more years that cat has left in her. I think they could benefit from another pet,” you explained.

“Puppies are a load of work, it’s essentially another child. They need to be potty-trained, fed, washed, and exercised. I already have to vacuum all of Kitty’s hair and change her litter box,” Spencer replied.

“I’ll make Jo promise to help out more and give her daily pet chores,” you pulled out an index card, “I did my own research and did you know dogs can lead to a lower level of stress, a better immune system including a decreased risk of developing asthma, AND they’re adorable.”

Spencer sighed, knowing he could never say no to his wife even if he tried, “Where would this so-called puppy even come from?

“The Fitzgerald’s 2 doors down have a pregnant golden retriever who has about a month left in her pregnancy.”

“Fine,” Spencer relented.

You jumped up and down in glee.

“I swear to god though, Y/N,” he warned, “I’m not picking up any pee or poop in the house. That’s somebody else’s job, I’ll leave it there.”

“You won’t,” you promised, “I’ll even let you name the puppy for being such a good sport,” you kissed him.

And that was how Spock, named after one of Spencer’s favorite Star Trek characters, became pet number 2 in the Reid household.

-

It was a few days after Christmas and true to your word, you and Jo had taken complete care of the puppy, cleaning its messes, taking it outside, and feeding it.

Spencer had tended to avoid the puppy just because everyone else was all over him so he didn’t feel obligated to give it more affection. After all, it was really just to make his family happy.

Spencer was the first to wake like usual, it was starting to flurry outside in the wintry air. He made his cup of coffee and perused the bookshelf for a good book to reread. He sank himself down on the couch, patting his lap for Kitty to settle herself in.

After about 20 minutes, Spencer heard whining at the front door. He glanced up from his book to see Spock gazing at the doorknob intently.

You and Jo wouldn’t be up for another half an hour or so but it was time for the twins to wake up.

“One sec, Spock,” Spencer stood from the couch, patting his head as he passed by the door.

Spock dutifully followed him up the stairs on his paws that were too big for his little body, tripping occasionally.

Ophelia and Ollie had just begun to stir in the morning light.

“Good morning, my little love bugs,” Spencer bent down to kiss them both, “We are going to go on a little morning walk with doggy before breakfast.”

“I wuv doggy,” Ophelia cooed.

“I know you do, love bug. Sometimes a little too much, remember what we said about gentle pets,” Spencer reminded her.

“Kitty come too?” Ollie babbled.

“Kitty stays inside all the time. But, Doggy likes to be both inside and outside,” Spencer explained.

He picked Ophelia up and set her down on the floor to slowly make her way downstairs on her own. He lifted Ollie onto his hip because although he could walk, he didn’t love to as much as his sister and Spencer was more than happy to carry one of his little love bugs in his arms forever.

Spencer started to work on getting Ollie all bundled up in his jacket, boots, snow pants, and pom-pom hat before doing the same to Ophelia.

Spencer clipped Spock’s leash to his collar and stepped into the cool air with a toddler on his hip and a puppy and another toddler on his heels.

“I hold,” Ophelia pointed to the leash.

“You can hold too but Daddy is going to keep holding so Doggy doesn’t pull you too hard,” he replied.

Ollie, suddenly feeling left out, squirmed to get down and held on to the leash as well.

One of the older ladies on the street was shoveling her steps as they passed by on the sidewalk.

“Well, isn't this just the cutest little scene for a Sunday morning?” she smiled.

“Good morning, Mrs. Peterson,” Spencer greeted, “Do you need any help shoveling?”

“You’re very kind but no thank you, dear. You’ve already got your hands full. Bill should be up later to help me,” she waved as they continued their walk down to the end of the road.

They stopped at the snow bank where the plow had pushed all the snow, creating a massive pile. The twins frolicked happily, creating little snow sculptures and forts.

Spencer, whose attire was flannel pajama pants, a thick cardigan, and fuzzy moccasins, opted to stay on the sidewalk with Spock where the snow was less abundant.

Spock brushed up against his pant leg.

“Your paws getting cold, buddy?” Spencer asked, scooping him up into his arms for the first time.

Spock curled up into his arms just like the twins did when they were newborns. Spencer loved it, just the feeling of someone or something depending on him for affection. Maybe he could get used to this whole dog dad thing.

Eventually, the twins got hungry so they headed back towards the house. Spencer could smell the baking muffins as soon as he opened the front door.

“Blueberry?” he asked hopefully, setting down Spock and unclipping him from the leash.

“Yes, sorry you had to take Spock out this morning. I can set an alarm to take him next time,” you spoke.

“It’s okay, I actually didn’t mind,” Spencer smiled softly.

“Daddy, can you start a fire please?” Jo asked from where she was sitting at the kitchen counter.

“Of course, Princess. Do you want to help?”

Jo nodded, hopping off the stool and starting to stack logs in the fire. Spencer crumpled up some old newspaper into balls, tossing them into the fire as well before striking a match and lighting it.

The oven timer went off for the muffins just in time and you plated them. Everyone took a seat on the couch to enjoy their delicious breakfast in front of the cozy fire.

Spock wandered over, hopping into Spencer’s lap next to Ollie. Next thing you know, Ophelia was throwing a fit because there was no room for her. Kitty looked confused as to why her normal spot was filled.

“We've been taking care of Spock this whole time and you take him on one walk and suddenly he clings to you. Unbelievable,” you smiled

“It’s called the ‘Reid Effect’,” Spencer stated with a grin, “Animals and children love me.”

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @ssacalumsg0lden @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego @idonotexiste @beepbooptoop @tvandfanfic @mggsprettygirl @big-galaxy-chaos @navs-bhat @spencerreidsmommy @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @mggs-sidehoe @rexit-mo @hufflepuffhaze @thisismynerdyself @xoxospencerreid @wifeyprentiss @reidsbookclub @spencersrose @pinkdiamond1016 @muffin-cup

one-shot only taglist: @strawberryspence @fbivestreid

[13uswntimagines]

Our Song (Alyssa Naeher x Reader)

Request: alyssa naehex reader thats set during quarantine w/ “Shy” by Alexander Stewart. I just kind of think it’s cute since she’s an introvert and that it would be fitting

Author’s Note: Speical Thanks To @literaryhedgehog​

Alyssa knew she should just say it, that admitting it out loud would finally put an end to this madness. She ran a soothing hand through your hair when you sniffled loudly into her chest. 

God, she should just tell you how she felt. But, she also didn’t want to overstep. That would make being roommates really awkward. Especially since neither of you were supposed to leave the apartment right now except for essential purchases. And she didn’t want to lose her best friend. That would really suck. 

But she wasn’t afraid to say what no one else would- you had a terrible taste when it came to partners. You chose people who didn’t value you, and you always ended up hurt. 

This time was no different, well, it was slightly different considering you couldn’t leave your shared apartment to cope like you normally would. Alyssa didn’t know if that was better or worse, considering that you had adapted your breakup routine to just be endless cuddles with her and your favorite stuffed animal.  

She had already spent the last hour making comforting noises. You had stopped shedding tears 15 minutes ago, so Alyssa decided it was time to go for some humor. “Hey, so now you and Taylor Swift have something in common!”

“Hmm” You hummed in acknowledgment, your eyes never leaving where Supergirl was playing on screen. 

“Well, she was broken up with over text. You were broken up with over text. I think this is the perfect opportunity to listen to her re-recording of Fearless, and really channel those emotions!”

“No, Joe broke up with her in a 27-second phone call,” You lifted your head up off of her very comfortable chest to raise your eyebrow at the woman. 

Alyssa was a great keeper, and amazing at crosswords, but she always needed your help when it came to Taylor trivia. 

“Then Joe showed more consideration as an 18-year-old child than your 32 year old wanna be soccer star. It doesn’t change the fact that I think listening to Mr Perfectly Fine would be cathartic.” 

“It’s kinda funny that she wrote Forever and Always, Mr. Perfectly fine, Better than Revenge and Holy Ground all about the same guy, they’re all so different from each other,” You mumbled, settling back down on her chest. At least she didn’t say that you had as many breakups as she did. That was a rude joke. (One Alyssa wouldn’t dare make. She was more cultured than the media asshats that chased your team around). 

“Woman’s efficient,” Alyssa shrugged. “No reason why you can't recycle the same emotion into a different song genre.” 

“At least she could make millions off her pain. All I seem to be able to do is kick the ball harder,” You grumbled. Your landlord complained about you practicing in the street because of how hard you sent the ball careening into his precious brick wall. It wasn’t your fault Alyssa was too slow to stop the PK. 

“Darling, considering you’re one of the strongest kickers on the east coast, I’d say that pain is going to a worthwhile cause. But you do kind of have the worst taste in relationships.” 

“Hey! Savannah wasn’t a bad choice, just bad timing,” You huffed indignantly. 

“So that would be one out of…. How many bad relationships?” 

“At least one for every Taylor Swift album,” 

“Okay, here’s a fun idea, choose an ex for each album,” Alyssa said brightly. Thinking about music would definitely cheer you up. “Wannabe soccer star is obviously your Joe, so represents the Fearless album. Which relationship is your… Drew?”

“You already know the answer to that question,” you said, already picking up your phone to add Teardrops on my Guitar to the music queue. You then quickly added Forever and Always and started scrolling through Speak Now for the next song inspiration. 

Alyssa nodded. It was a well-known fact that you had a massive crush on one Hope Solo growing up, and you had been absolutely enamored with her the second you set foot into camp. But Alyssa also knew that Hope was very faithful to a certain veteran. 

The veteran keeper had tried to let you down easy, and Kelley was still one of your best friends, but it had hurt in the moment.

“Kristie was my Haunted,” you said, smiling slightly. Dating her felt like a whirlwind, one that took your breath until you never thought it would end. She made butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you were so desperate to say the right thing, to be the perfect partner, that you always felt like you were walking a tightrope. Floating on air, but desperate to keep your balance. “At least she had the decency to wait until we were in the same city to end it.” 

“Aren’t the two of you friends now?” Alyssa looked down at you, watching as you scrolled through songs from your comfortable place on her chest. 

You nodded with a small smile. “Hmm, we are much better off that way anyway.” 

“I bet you I can guess who your We are Never Ever Getting Back Together person is,” Alyssa trilled, reaching down to take the phone. 

You playfully snatched it away from her. “Who’s to say I wasn’t going to choose I knew you were trouble?” You raised your eyebrow at the woman, who simply smirked in response. 

“I can tell you who that is too if you like,” Alyssa reached for her own phone and took over control of the speakers, adding both songs to the music queue. 

“Alright, I’ll bite. Who?” 

“You definitely knew Sam Kerr was trouble, and I think it took you 4 breakups with Leah to finally call it quits,” 

“I was going to say Leah for 1989, it took me forever to realize how fucked up our relationship was after we finally broke up,” 

“I’m sure the distance didn’t help.” With her in London and you in Chicago things just kind of fell apart. 

“Maybe,” you hummed, noncommittally. 

“Okay, so for Reputation. I’m thinking Don’t Blame Me,” 

“You did go a bit crazy for Jane…” Alyssa said with a roll of her eyes. You had almost moved to Houston for that girl, thank god you didn’t. You sunburned like nobody's business. 

“Oh come on. You just didn’t like the idea of me moving. And considering how long we had been dating at that point it did make sense!” You argued. 

“It was 3 months Y/n,” She deadpanned. 

“I was in a wlw relationship. That’s like practically three years, it’s not like I brought a u-haul to our first date.” 

Alyssa quirked an eyebrow up at you. “Didn’t you have one of those the first time we met?” 

“Yeah, because I wasn’t moving into my college apartment without any furniture!”

“Whatever you say, babe. Who's your Folklore?” She rolled her eyes goodnaturedly. 

“I think you skipped an album,” you said. This was weird because Lover was one of Alyssa’s favorite albums. “But, since you asked. I think Kelley is The 1.” 

“Ah, our favorite squirrel,” Alyssa’s lips ticked up. You and Kelley had dated in college (something that should have made her jealous), but Kelley was the one pushing her to admit her feelings now. 

“We were just too young and dumb,” you said, smiling. “We had a great time together, and it would have been fun if it worked out. But at some point we just realized, we were friends, but there wasn’t anything romantic there.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Alyssa said, like a liar. 

“I’m not. Her and Emily are like made for each other,” You snorted with the shake of your head. “And at least she wasn’t afraid of the world knowing we were together,” 

“Well, yeah,” Alyssa smiled. She had loved seeing the way being publicly out with Kelley had brought out the best of you. “ Okay moving on! Next, we need to narrow down your No body, No Crime.” 

“I take offense. Alex is still alive, so that doesn’t count,” You huffed. 

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding. I know you didn’t kill any of your significant others,” Alyssa said, laughing. “Though if you listened to the song you would know that’s my job… ”

“Alex was my Champagne Problems,” You mumbled sadly. That relationship had been the hardest for you, as had the breakup. She was terrified of the world even suspecting she wasn’t straight. 

You had everything, except the freedom to be yourself, and In the end, you couldn’t take the hiding anymore. 

“You did your best, love. But people come out at their own pace. And it was before Obergfell v. Hodges was decided. Being queer was still more likely to be presented as a scandal in the media then.”

“She cheated on me with Serv. She doesn’t get a pass,” You grumbled, crossing your arms. 

“I’m pretty sure you were on a break dear,” Alyssa said, though she was inclined to agree with you. Being on a ‘break’ but not officially breaking up didn’t seem like a reason to start dating other people. Still getting over some of the semantics might theoretically help you move on. “BUT maybe we should move on. Who is your Lover?”

Your eyes squinted thoughtfully, a light pink shading your cheeks. “The only person who hasn’t ever left me is you. You let me leave the Christmas lights up until May and dance around the kitchen when you cook.” 

Alyssa looked away, not able to meet your eyes. ”I mean, the lights can change color, so they can be thematic all year. And you’re the one who chooses the music to listen to while I cook. I can’t help it if they’re all great for dancing.”

“You can dance to anything. I’m pretty sure you turned a Hosier song into a salsa dance last week.” You giggled. 

“The only person I dance with is you, Y/n,” Alyssa said, finally meeting your eyes. She could feel her body start shaking slightly, as the adrenaline kicked in. She was going to do it. She was going to tell you. “I don’t want to dance if I’m not dancing with you.” 

“I’d dance with you in a storm in my best dress,” 

“I have tried so hard to be supportive about your last several relationships. But seeing you dancing to your favorite song with anyone else… I’ve loved you for three years now and I couldn’t bear it.” 

The air was suddenly charged between you, and you realized your faces were just inches apart. It was hard to breathe. You never dreamed your best friend would return your feelings (maybe that’s why you had so many bad relationships). 

“Kiss me,” you breathed, slowly moving around so your heads were at the same level. 

“That’s not a Taylor swift Lyric,” Alyssa said. In her brain, there was a loading sign currently whirring in little circles, as she attempted to process what you just said. Did you mean what she thought you said?

“Baby just say yes,” You said, feeling so happy that tears were coming to your eyes. You leaned forward getting inches from her face, so close you could feel her breath hitch. “Please kiss me.”

“Yes,” was all Alyssa had time to say before she closed the distance and kissed you. 

[mattsvn]

LOVER

Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader!

Prompt: You just moved with your boyfriend to your new apartment, and try to make it feel like home as soon as possible as Lover by Taylor Swift plays in the background

Warnings: pure fluff, fluffy tsukki, domestic.

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: i felt so loved writing thiss, repost!! Not proofread

“Come, dance with me, Kei,” you asked with extended arms to your boyfriend, who was focused on his computer, “Come on, it’s a slow song,” asked, moving from side to side to the beat of the song.

Boxes full of belongings were the décor of your new apartment. Only a couple of weeks had passed and, with all your responsibilities, unpacking seemed like an impossible task at the time, and the rest you used to relax. Making of that small apartment a home was the biggest concern you had now, and you wanted to have the most beautiful moments with your boyfriend there.

“I’m busy,” he answered, after looking at you for just a second.

“I’m busy,” you replied, mimicking him “You’re always busy! I’ll go dance with my teddy bear!” you announced, going to your room to get the teddy bear.

“Are you going to dance with a teddy bear?” he asked, taking off his headphones and looking at you frowning. “You’re really weird.”

The scene that you were mounting was too silly, and for that reason you made sure it stayed that way, you were wearing your pajamas, your uncombed hair and your favorite slippers, which could easily pass for a child’s design. You walked around until you took the coffee cup from the table and gave it a drink, returning it to your boyfriend’s long hands.

“Weird but your girlfriend! And at least Mr. Cotton Candy wants to dance with me!“ you complained, foolishly walking around and singing to the rhythm of the unknown song.

Tsukishima was not a person who could show affection so openly, even after so much time together it became difficult for him to do things as a couple. Even so, bothering him from time to time about such things was fun. You kept at it, until a song you really loved started playing on the horn.

“Oh, I love that song,” you said quietly, it was true. You went around, for you that was like the perfect song for a slow dance “You’re missing out on my great dance moves” you complained, closed eyes to enjoy the song more.

“You are really annoying,” whispered the blond, if it wasn’t for the fact that your eyes were closed you would have noticed that he stood up and walked over to you. He snatched the teddy bear from your hands to throw it away “I’m not going to let Mr. Cotton Candy dance with my girlfriend”

“Are you jealous of a stuffed animal?” you asked, laughing at his frown. “I thought the great Kei Tsukishima was better than that,” you scoffed, softening your laugh when you felt a hand pass around your waist and stop at your back, making you approach him.

“No, it’s just that you look ridiculous dancing with a teddy bear” he explained, he had a slightly grin on his lips when he started dancing with you. “I’m here to stop you from embarrassing yourself.”

“Embarrassing myself?  The one who doesn’t know how to dance here is you” you pointed out, leaving your hands on his neck and looking him in the eyes, his smile widened letting out a little laugh “You have no coordination at all, Tsukki”

“You have no coordination at all, woman,” he complained, holding you closer to his chest. “See? You just stepped on me.”

“I didn’t step on you, you stepped on me” you replied, closing your eyes again to let yourself be carried away by the song “I know you can’t dance"

“We’ve never danced any more than slow songs, how would you know if I know how to dance or not?” he inquired, now you were dancing on your toes, trying to eliminate the height difference with him “You’re not going to catch me even if you jump” he mentioned, holding back his laughter.

“Have I known you for twenty seconds or twenty years?“ you sang, as close as you could to his face. "I know you better than the palm of my hand, Kei” you muttered, it seemed that it took him by surprise, you could see in his slightly flushed cheeks and in that vulnerable look that only remained for a few seconds and then disappeared.

These were the moments when you knew with certainty that you were being reciprocated in your feelings, in his small actions, in his looks, in his fingers intertwining with yours under the table. In similar tastes to drinking coffee, taking the cup away from him without complaint. In those moments, everything was perfect.

“Better than the palm of your hand?” he wondered, lowering his face to within inches of yours. “Mmh, are you sure about that?” he asked, your hand traveled to his cheek and you caressed it, you watched the soft pink color in these transform into a red that covered his face.

“Can we always be this close?” you sang, the boy’s smile increased, and with a simple movement he took your hand to spin you in the middle of the dance. “Mmh, you don’t move that badly” you said, his grip on your waist was firm and his steps defined, you were really surprised that he could move like that, without any problems.

“I move better than you” he kissed you on the lips in that way that only he knew, in a long second, no more than a soft touch, a short union, just enough “are you going to keep singing to me?”

“No,” you answered, you were so close that you ended up tiptoeing over his feet. “Well, only if you give me another kiss. But longer, please.”

“Longer?” His lips were so close that they brushed against yours with every movement. "Let’s see,” he breathed, kissing you longer.

“No, longer” you asked, to which he responded by lifting you a little in the air, his kisses were always simple, like him. You smiled during that instant, leaving your eyes closed, feeling again your feet on the ground “No, something is missing.”

He bent down a little more, with his lips in your ear, leaving kisses on your cheek while his breath tickled your neck and you could not feel more joyful. You were in a unique, intimate moment, building your home, both with only pajamas and a steaming cup of coffee on the table.

“And I am highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you” he sang, only for you to listen, softly, almost speaking. He went back to the way he was before, even though he was close, he seemed to have gone several meters away.

“You never told me you liked Taylor Swift!” you exclaimed, with a little jump you left a kiss on her lips. “Always full of surprises, Kei.”

“I think I was on a playlist we made of both of you,” he defended himself, taking you for a spin again. “Besides, it’s always on the radio”

“Aha” you said, you let out a scream when he held you in his arms to dance around the room, holding you by his shoulders you heard his laughter, you did the same. You couldn’t ask for a moment as perfect as that one, those little moments that were just another brick in the building of his home. “Put me down” you asked, still laughing. “I have to sing to you”

“Sing to me like this” he asked, keeping you in the air. “My favorite part is coming, I hope you know what it is.“ You tangled your hands in his hair, looking into his eyes and wrapped your legs around his hips.

"I take this magnetic force of a man to be my…lover.” You left kisses all over his face, those that made him leave that facade of someone serious and intimidating. If there was any of that left, of course.

"You sing horribly” he complained falsely, you hit him gently on the chest because of it. “See? I’m better than that stuffed animal you were dancing with.

"Jealous, you were jealous of a stuffed animal” you joked, he started tickling you in response “No! Cheating! That’s cheating!” you complained, trying to tickle his neck, no response from him “It’s not fair, you’re not ticklish!” you laughed, and the song came to an end.

“Now it’s my turn to choose a song."

taglist: taglist: @sugas-sweetheart @kirislut @hannahalanib1 @goopyartiste @yee-harr @ohno-grapes @peach-pops @meliorist-midoriya @milktyama @majestic-sea-flip-flop @starlessnyx @tanakasimpcorner @msbyslugg @ordinary-ace @lilsparkyswife

[fan4196]

Happiness (Part 3)

Evermore

Hey everyone here’s part 3, the last part, as requested by so many of you. Hope you like it. Enjoy!

-

After they dropped Izzie of at the hospital to see her mother alone at first, Jo convinced Alex to drive them to the loft and order some lunch. The twins were already sleepy from the flight and also jet lagged, so Alex gave in and drove them to the place he once called home instead of driving them around city, looking for a hotel to stay at.

As soon as they walked through the loft door, Alex has this weird feeling of being home again. It feels like the place where he belongs, the place he once thought he would start a family with Jo in - now he sort of does but he also feels like a complete stranger. Like he shouldn't be here. Like he shouldn't be allowed to feel like home here.

He immediately notices the missing of all their pictures. The corner were is workout stuff used to be holds two cribs and a changing table now. Most of the stuff he once brought into the loft is gone. Jo's closet is half empty and all in all it just doesn't look like it used to.

All of them get rid of their shoes and jackets and Jo prepares the bed for the twins, so they could take a nap. She and Alex sat on the couch talking until the twins woke up again and they ordered pizza.

The evening went over rather quickly with them watching movies and playing games. Heavy hearted the twins said goodbye to their new friend Jo, but got immediately excited again when she promised to accompany them at the zoo tomorrow.

Exhausted Jo falls into bed that night. Letting the day reminisce. She's really relieved that the twins immediately liked her and also that Alex is back or at least near. It makes her feel safer, to know that if something would happen now Alex is only a fifteen minutes drive away and not a three and a half hours flight. Although her due date is still seven weeks away, you just never know.

-

For Alex the next morning starts quite early - like almost every day with the twins but today they are extra excited. From getting them dressed, through breakfast and through out the whole car ride to the loft, they couldn't stop talking and asking about Jo.

They pick Jo up from the loft and Alex drives them to the zoo. The twins chat happily with Jo and sing along to the Taylor Swift songs she plays for them. Alex is quiet the whole car ride, smiling and thinking about how this right here is everything he ever wanted - a family with Jo.

At the zoo they start with the otter as requested by the twins. They walk the big round, looking at all the animals before then decide to take a break at the playground.

While the twins play and show Jo their skills at the monkeybars, Alex sits down on one of the benches from where he has a good few at them.

"Are they all yours?" An old man that sat down on the bench with Alex a few minutes ago asks all of a sudden.

"Yeah." Alex answers simply with a toothless smile, not really in the mood to explain his family constellation to a complete stranger.

"If an old man can give you an advise, try to keep them as happy as they are right now. If they are happy you are happy." He says before he stands up again and walks away.

"I see while I was gone you made a new friend your age." Jo jokes as she comes towards him and sits down on the bench.

"Shut up." He snorts, keeping his eyes on the twins.

"Never." She mocks, laughing at the sulky look on his face.

They sit in silence watching the twins play for a while, when out of nowhere Jo grabs Alex's leg and doubles over in pain.

"Jo what is it? Are you in pain? Jo talk to me!" Alex immediately asks concerned, grabbing her hand that's on his thigh, while his other hand strokes her back.

"I think I'm having contractions." Jo answers as the pain subsides and she sits up straight again.

"Since when?" He asks worried, not letting go of her hand while he's also not taking his eyes off of her.

"This morning?" She answers a little quieter, looking away to escape his look.

"What?"

"I'm having braxton hicks since probably a week. I saw Carina and she said everything was alright. But I don't think that those are braxton hicks, this one was way stronger and it hurt a lot more." She answers, trying to take deep breaths to calm herself down. Alex hand on hers was helping a little bit.

"Ok. Ahm we can do this. We're gonna get you to the hospital. Can you walk?" He asks before he gets up from the bench, holding his hands out to help her up.

"Yeah." Jo answers, taking both of his hands and letting him pull her up.

"Ok. Alexis! Eli! Come here! We need to go!" He screams in the twins direction, waving at them.

"Noo, Daddy." His daughter immediately complains from the sandpit.

"Yes. No complaints we need to take Jo to the hospital now!" He shouts again.

The twins know their dads serious voice so without further complaints they come running towards them and all of them make their way out of the zoo as fast as Jo can. Alex arm is around her to support her while walking and to stabalize her when another contraction hits.

"You're doing so good. Deep breaths." Alex whispers in her ear when they stop for another contraction break. His arms are around Jo, calmly stroking her back while her head is against his chest.

"It's way too early." She whispers a little out of breath from working through the contraction.

"I know. Let's get you to the hospital and see from there ok-" He says while her head still leans against his chest.

"Sir, Ma'am do you need help?" An older lady asks, coming up to them.

"No!" Alex immediately answers rather rudely which scares the lady off.

"Alex! They just wanted to be nice."

"They should mind their own god damn business." He answers "You good again?"

"Yeah." Jo nods and they keep walking, finally making their way out of the zoo.

"Ok you stay here with Jo and have an eye on her and I'm getting the car." Alex orders, already running off to get the car.

"Are the babies hurting you, Jojo?" Eli asks as he sits down beside Jo on the bench in front of the zoo.

"A little bit but it's fine. It's nothing you have to worry about, ok?" Jo assures him with a smile stroking his hair. "There's your dad. Come on."

They get up from the bench while Alex parks in front of them. He quickly gets out of the car to help Jo in the passenger seat and the twins buckling up in the backseats.

During their ride to the hospital the car is silent. The twins are completely quiet while Jo calmly works through her contractions and Alex tries to get them as fast but also as safe as possible to the hospital.

"Kiddos when we are at the hospital a nurse will take you to your mom, ok?" He explains to the twins, watching them nod in the rearview mirror.

"Ok daddy."

"Good." He takes his view from his kids and takes a quick look at Jo, "You ok?"

"Yeah." She smiles as he reaches for her hand to let her squeeze it during the next contraction.

"Ok unbuckle. I'm gonna get you in a second ok?" He tells Jo before he gets the twins inside where a nurse takes them to Izzie. He comes back with a wheelchair and helps Jo sitting down in it.

"Karev? You can't park here." Owen orders as he comes around the car, which is parked directly in front of the ER door.

"Jo's in labor!" Alex replies immediately, handing his key to Owen.

"Alright don't worry. Go get her admitted I'm gonna take care of your car."

"Thanks Owen." Alex screams as he pushes Jo into the ER.

"Stop!" Jo interrupts Alex before he can get them into the elevator, "Levi! Can you go to my place and get me my hospital bag it's right at the front door?" She stops the resident before he could walk past them.

"Are you in labor?" He asks totally surprised.

"Yes."

"Oh my god. Ahm- Of course. I still have my key."

"Thanks." Jo smiles, letting go of his arm so Alex can get them onto the elevator.

He pushes the number to the OB/Gyn floor and squads down in front of Jo, taking her hands in his.

"You're doing so good." He smiles up to her, his eyes softly looking at her.

"It's way too early." She whispers, trying to hold back tears while she keeps looking into his soft, brown eyes.

"It's not. You are 30 weeks which is far enough for them to survive. You kept them save as long as you could and once they're out I promise that I'll keep them save as long as they need, ok?" He assures her softly.

"I'm so glad you are here right now." She whispers.

"Me too."

The opening doors of the elevator interrupt their moment of intimacy and Alex gets her admitted and into a room.

"Jo, bambina I didn't expect you here so soon. Oh hello Doctor Karev." Carina DeLuca greets then as she walks into Jo's room.

"Hi Doctor DeLuca." Alex returns her greeting.

"Carina." She smiles at him, as she puts on a pair of gloves.

"Carina. Alex." He smiles back, taking Jo's clothes from her and puts them on the chair in corner.

"Ok let's see. Did your water already break, Jo?" Carina asks, getting the ultrasound machine ready.

"No- yes." Jo corrects her answer, as she feels the liquid running down her leg.

"Alright then there's no turning back now. Your bambino's want to come today. Can you lay down so I can do an ultrasound and check how far you are dialated?" She asks, getting everything ready.

Alex helps Jo on the bed and sits down on the chair beside her while Carina does the ultrasound and checks her.

"Your babies look great. They are both with their heads down which means we can try the vaginal birth you wanted." Carina smiles, taking off her gloves.

"Yes."

"Perfecto. I'll give you an IV with fluids and something to develop their little lungs and then we'll see. You are seven centimeters so you'll have a little more to go." Carina informs them before she gets the ultrasound machine to take it with her again.

"Thank you Carina." Alex smiles at the OB as he gets up to help Jo sit up again.

"Of course. I'll send a nurse for your IV and check on you in an hour."

"Thank you." Jo smiles.

Carina pads Alexs shoulder before she leaves the two alone again.

"If you need to get the twins or something you can go, I'm fine." Jo turns to Alex.

"Hell no I'm not leaving your side again. Izzie can take care of them for once." He replies, sitting down in his chair again.

"What do you mean?"

"Since the day I got there she plays the 'You missed five years of their life' card which means I have them 24/7 and she doesn't give a shit about them. Don't get me wrong I love my kids but Izzie couldn't care less. She's happy when they are at school or at a friends house and she doesn't have to deal with them all day. Why do you think she has this big ass farm with a hundred animals and a nanny? Just so they can run around outside and she has her quiet inside the house." He vents, laying his head back agains the headrest of the chair.

"So you have them all the time?"

"Yeah they basically live at my place and visit Izzie when she's free on the weekends."

Jo had heard enough, with Alex's help she gets up from the bed and sits down on one of the yoga balls. Closing her eyes and thinking about everything Alex just told her. 

The next few hours go by quietly. Carina checks on Jo every hour and Alex tries to help Jo whenever she needs it.

"I'm thinking about moving here again." Alex voice breaks the silence from his new place on the bed, "Would that be ok with you?"

"What?" She asks again, opening her eyes to be sure he really said what he said.

"I wanna be closer to you and our babies. I wanna see them growing up, Jo. I already missed the first five years once and I don't wanna miss them again. I wanna be their dad - who is around, who is there for their their first words and their first steps. I wanna change dirty diapers and get puked on, I wanna take them to daddy and me classes, I wanna have the whole damn thing - if you'll let me." He finishes, waiting for her answer, "Jo?"

He gets up from the bed and walks to her. Seeing that her eyes are closed, he takes her hands.

"I need to push."

-

An hour later their beautiful babies are born.

Small but healthy. They need a little help with their breathing but other than that they are both perfectly fine.

Jo has Emery on her chest, Alex has Parker for a little skin to skin time. They are all four curled up on the hospital bed - happier than they ever believed they could be.

"They are so perfect Jo." Alex whispers, watching his son and daughter sleeping peacefully.

"They really are." She smiles towards Alex, "And yes."

"Yes what?" He asks, now looking at Jo.

"You can have the whole damn thing if you want but only if I'll get the whole damn thing with your twins too." She throws him a toothless smile.

"Are you saying-"

"I'm saying after all I still love you and I wanna do this with you. I'll probably need a little more time to fully trust you again but I want them to have their dad around." She nods, not interrupting their stare.

"Thank you." He really doesn't know what other to say.

They get interrupt by a knock and the door opening.

"I'm so sorry Jo that it took this long. I got pulled into a surgery with Bailey- Oh my god you had the babies." Levi stops in this movement.

"Thanks Levi." Jo smiles at him.

"Sure. They are perfect, Jo. Congratulations."

He smiles at them before he puts the bag down at the door and leaves the four alone again.

"How come you call him Levi?" Alex asks interested, watching her carefully.

"He was my roommate for a while right after you left." She answers, carefully stroking her daughters rosy cheek.

"Oh-"

"And Taryn too." She adds, taking her glance of her daughter now looking at him again.

"Who?" He asks, scrunching his nose as he returns her glance.

"Helm."

"Oh ok."

Another knock at the door interrupts them. This time it's one of the nurses.

"Are you up for some visitors?" She asks carefully before she opens the door completely as Jo nods. And the twins come into the room.

"Hey guys. Come on in." Alex assures them as they are a little careful. But within a minute they are on the bed with the rest.

"Eli, Alexis those are Emery and Parker." Alex announces with the biggest smile an his face. Right in this moment he was the happiest man alive.

"They are so tiny." His daughter marvels over her little siblings. Scooting closer to her dad to have a better look at her new baby brother.

"They are." Jo laughs at the twins reaction.

"But they are soo cute." Eli adds, scooting a little closer to Jo to get an even better look.

"Right? Don't you think that Parker looks just like your daddy?" Jo asks, pulling the blanket a little from Parker's face so the twins have a better few.

"A little." Alexis agrees with a nod.

"Can we hold them?" Eli asks excited, scooting even closer to Jo.

"Sure. Are you guys strong enough to get me this bag?" Jo asks them, ponying towards the bag Levi just brought.

"I'll get it."

"Thank you, Eli. Let's get them dressed then you can hold them ok?"

The twins nod before they help Jo dressing Emery and Parker. When the smallest Karevs are dressed Jo gets something else out of the bag and hands one to Alex.

"I think you were right about their heads. These are a little big now but just think about their heads if they would have been full term."

"Where do you have those from?" Alex looks at the little hat in his hand, before he looks at Jo.

"Your mom send them."

"You're still in touch with my mom?" He blankly.

"Yeah. And Amber and Matt. And I finally met Aaron too-"

"When?" He asks quite surprised.

"Well your mom invited me to Easter and Amber, Matt, the kids and Aaron where there too."

"We would have been there too but the twins were sick," Alex gasps, looking at Jo.

"Well now we're all gonna be there for Christmas." Jo smiles at him.

"We will." He smiles back.

[alltooreid]

All Too Well

Spencer must go to him and Y/N’s once shared apartment to clean out his things and leave her life forever. While there he can’t help but look back on his actions, the ones that made him lose the love of his life forever

A/N: Hi!! This is my first fanfic ever published on here and I’m excited to share it with you all! It’s inspired by one of my favorite Taylor Swift songs All Too Well, but although I utilized some of the lyrical genius and imagery from it, the story is not the same as the story in the song. This is a very angsty fic, and there is not a happy ending. Although there are some cute fluffy elements, including a Reid’s purple scarf origin story, I would in no way call this happy. Additionally, because of a reason you may later realize, the content warnings are very vague. If anything even slightly mentioned in them may affect you, I advise you to maybe stay clear. On a lighter note, if anyone wants to request anything, whether it’s another song inspired fic or a general plot line you would like to see please do so!! Also sorry this is kinda short, I’m still learning but I’m really proud of this one :))

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Type: Very Angsty, Not a Happy Ending, (Y/N and Spencer do not end up together)

Word Count: 2.4k

Content Warnings(try to ignore if you would prefer to stay surprised): slight cursing, discussions of death and gore, discussion of car crash

Things to Know: Italics and bold are flashback moments :) let me know what you think!

“But you keep my old scarf from that very first week 'Cause it reminds you of innocence And it smells like me You can't get rid of it 'Cause you remember it all too well”

Spencer was packing up his things, finally getting the chance to clear out and move from the apartment he and Y/N once shared.  Their relationship was rocky and unconventional but he loved her all the same. Even though he left her broken-hearted and destroyed his most cherished relationship. Even though Y/N’s parents now hated him because of what he did to her. Even though hope of repairing what they once had was long gone and there was nothing else he could do about it. Even though he had torn up the masterpiece they once had together. He still loved her so much.

But the magic was gone and so was she. 

Now Spencer was left with memories, and since the apartment they lived in was hers instead of his, filed entirely under hers and her parents name. In his excessive knowledge and wisdom, Spencer Reid struggled to understand how the kitchen where Y/N told him she loved him for the first time as he lit the candle on the collapsing confetti cake he had attempted to bake for her birthday was in no way legally tied to him. 

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to Y/N! Happy birthday to you!” Spencer sang as he lit the single pink birthday candle he found after rummaging through his desk drawers for longer than he cared to admit. He knew it was in there somewhere, but at the same time there was a whole lot in there. 

As he looked at her face, eyes welling up with tears as she took in the sad, homemade excuse for a birthday party Spencer had thrown together after they got back from a case hours before, he couldn’t help but feel he should have done more. He wanted to take her to New York, where they would’ve enjoyed fine dining and one of those incredibly detailed floral frosting cakes he knew Y/N was infatuated with. 

However, the case in Oregon ran long. They had only returned to their apartment 2 hours ago, hours past their 7pm dinner reservations. Although Y/N tried to hide her disappointment, you don’t need to be a profiler to know that someone wants to celebrate their own birthday. So although they had agreed to go to bed and play everything by ear tomorrow, the young genius had, what he would still argue to be, his most brilliant idea when he saw Y/N asleep once he got out of the shower.

It was still her birthday.

And Spencer had just under 2 hours to throw you a party. 

So sure, Y/N deserved more than a cake that was definitely not cool enough to frost, but was frosted anyway due to time constraints. And she definitely deserved more than present hastily wrapped in his printed out articles and newspaper clippings. Spencer wished that he had time to go buy new candles, instead of lighting a green sparkly number 7 because it was all he could find.

But it was almost midnight, and that meant he only had 18 minutes before it wasn’t Y/N’s birthday anymore.

So instead of dwelling on it, he headed to their bedroom, shook her awake and watched her roll over to face him. He watched the smile overtake her face as she said the stupid party hat he was wearing, made out of a pom pom and a wedding invitation.

“Hey birthday girl,” he said softly, “you do realize you’re sleeping through your party right?”

She looked so happy that night, even as she saw the way too messy kitchen and her birthday cake that was melting by the second. She laughed as Spencer fumbled with the lighter. 

And as he finished singing her eyes started releasing tears. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I wish we could’ve done more for the first birthday we get to spend together. “

“No, no, no” she said as she wiped her tears away, “It’s not that at all.”

She smiled and looked up at him “I just love you so goddamn much Spencer.”

Although at one point, all Spencer knew was logic and logically Y/N had never ever known him when she filed her paperwork, the genius still struggled to grasp the concept. That even before the ending of it all, you had no legal, definite connection to her at all. 

How was nothing about this place, his? 

  All that he knew was that he had today to pack all his shit and leave. All he knew is that Y/N’s father had made it very clear none of their family wanted to see him again. 

He wished he could talk to Y/N about it. However all of his calls went to voicemail immediately. 

Logically, Spencer knew why, he had completely fucked up. 

But still, he called every single day, as there was nothing his heart wished for more than to speak to Y/N again. To apologize, to beg for forgiveness he knew he didn’t deserve.

As the cold air from the open windows blew into the apartment, Spencer couldn’t help but feel he was leaving his home behind. Everything left of her was going to be here, and he wouldn’t get to experience any part of the life you and him had once shared together anymore.

But then he saw it. 

The royal purple scarf Y/N bought the day of their first date. 

“You like this color right?” she asked as they stopped by a booth at the street festival she had taken him to. Spencer was too distracted as he watched the other couples on dates, as they walked hand and hand down the streets. He sometimes wished he could forget things like the number of germs and bacteria that lived on her hands. He at least wished he could forget long enough to gather enough courage to hold Y/N’s hand as they walked down the sidewalk.

“Hmm?” he said, looking back at her, then the scarf she was now wearing. “Oh, yeah! I love that color, it um- looks great on you.”

She smiled, then turned to the weird old guy running the stand. “How much for the scarf?” she asked.

He looked at her, then looked at Spencer, “depends which one of you is paying.”

Before Spencer could say anything, let alone pull out his wallet, Y/N already had hers out. 

“Well, for a pretty lady like you, it’s 2 dollars,” the man said.

She handed him five and turned to Spencer. “You hear that? I’m so pretty I get 80% off! Wonder what you would’ve paid huh pretty boy? He would probably owe you money.” The man handed her her change and whispered something Spence couldn’t quite catch. 

“Gross,” Y/N said as they exited the booth, “he wrote his number on my change.”

Spencer chuckled, “Did you really just buy that scarf because I like the color of it?”

She smiled, “Don’t get so cocky now Einstein, I like purple too you know? And maybe if you’re lucky I’ll let you borrow it.”

At that moment Spencer felt just okay enough to wrap his arm around Y/N’s, and she felt just right enough to wrap the new scarf around them both. 

The one she left next to her front door, after making the last minute decision to leave it at home the night of their final outing.

No one would notice if he….. Right?

Sure maybe Y/N would but what would she do about it? Hunt him down just to get a scarf she paid less than five dollars for? Definitely not. 

He wrapped it around his neck and closed his eyes, even days later he could perfectly picture Y/N singing in his car, fascinated by the autumn leaves falling around her. He felt the wind in his hair, but instead of the cold, dreary air from the open apartment window, he swore he could remember the warm air from that October night. 

“Spencer I know you hate it but please, please, please. I’m so tired.”

“Sweetheart you’re not tired, you’re drunk. Of course I have to drive you home.”

“Oh, whatever.”

A phone call broke him away from his memories, it was Hotch. Spencer was angry, how effortlessly cruel of him to call him during such an emotional time. Hotch knew how much Spencer loved Y/N, the whole team did. 

So he didn’t pick up.

Instead he walked over to the coffee table they used to put their feet on when they binged watched Doctor Who together. Letting the ringtone play out in the background, Spencer picked up an old photo album Y/N’s parents must have brought out. Of course he remembered it, it was the same one they flipped through when he met Y/N’s parents for the first time. He didn’t realize she had brought it home with her.

His eyes welled up with tears as he flipped through the old school pictures, remembering how embarrassed Y/N was of her big glasses. He saw her old athlete pictures from when she used to play tee ball, and flipped through more pictures until he reached the end of your softball career, in college. 

He remembered how hard Y/N blushed when she showed him her childhood bedroom. Her twin sized bed was full of stuffed animals and her walls covered in boy band posters. 

“You know what Spencer? I don’t want to hear it. I loved and still love the BackStreet Boys and I am not ashamed of that.”

He laughed, “You know, before we started dating I always thought you were so cool and unattainable. I imagined that you had always been this chic, beautifully brilliant badass. It’s oddly comforting to know that you wore tortoiseshell glasses and had a fruitless infatuation with Nick Carter.”

She gasped, before tossing her tabby cat stuffed toy at him, “You’re about to get it!”

Once again he was called out of the memory by his phone. 

And once again he let it ring.

Spencer went into their shared bedroom, most of his things were already put into boxes for him. Honestly he was surprised that they hadn’t been set on fire or thrown away after what he did. 

Soon it was time for him to take his things down to his car.

Except it wasn’t even his car. It was Morgan’s.

“Spencer, you are the most gorgeous man I have ever seen in my entire life. I am infatuated with you, I want us to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“You sure that isn’t the alcohol talking Y/N”

“Look at me Spencer, no, no really look at me.”

He couldn’t imagine ever using his old car again after what had happened in it.

“You are my future.”

Not that he could use it again.

“You are my everything.”

It was pretty much destroyed, after that accident on that little town street.

“I want nothing more in my life, than for you to be in it.”

When he was so enamored by Y/N, so in love that he couldn’t take his eyes off her, that he ran a red light.

And the truck waiting to go didn’t stop either.

“SPENCER! SPENCER CAN YOU HEAR ME? I NEED YOU TO CALL 911!” she screamed, her voice filled with agony, her limbs mangled in a sea of crushed mental and snapped backwards by the emergency airbag she didn’t realize she was resting her feet on.

Spencer had already called 911. That was the sickest thing about it. Spencer was, physically, perfectly fine. Spencer would get to leave the hospital after just a few days. Spencer could’ve probably gotten out of the car if he tried to. But he stayed, he stayed with Y/N, as she wasn’t fine. As Spencer looked down on her broken body, and tried desperately to find just one piece of skin that wasn’t coated in blood, her blood, that is when he realized. That not only could Y/N not walk out of the hospital with him, but she probably wouldn’t even make it there.

So he sobbed, he struggled to breathe, not because of the ways Y/N did, but because he had caused all the reasons she couldn’t.

“Hey, Spencer, look at me.”

So he did, and he reached for her hands and held them so tightly, and wanted one last time to feel her squeeze back. And she did, just ever so softly. 

“Spencer, I meant everything I said to you. I want you to spend the rest of my life with me. Please.”

“I love you so much Y/N”

“I love you too.”

Spencer was drawn away from his memories once again as he got another phone call. 

But it wasn’t Hotch this time. It was Mr. Y/L/N, so he answered it. He owed him that.

“Are you out of her house yet? You’ve had hours. I want you gone Spencer.”

Spencer sighed, “I’m leaving now sir, I’m just putting the last of my things in the trunk and then I’ll be gone.”

“Good, I never want to see you again Spencer, you hear me?” Mr. Y/L/N said. “And you better not have anything of hers either. All that stuff in your car better belong to you and you only. If Y/N paid for even a dime of it it better still be in that house.”

Spencer looked down at this scarf he was wearing, the one that still smelled like her perfume. The one that he couldn’t bring himself to take off because he reminded him of so much innocence and beauty.

“Yes sir, I didn’t take anything.”

“Good. And Spencer do me a favor.”

“Anything sir.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Mr. Y/L/N said, and then hung up. Spencer sighed, he expected that and fully deserved it.

How else should a father react when you kill his daughter?

“'Cause there we are again when I loved you so Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well”

[princess-mei]

Mei 美美 Qin – Character Sheet

it’s like everything you say is a sweet revelation / all i wanna do is get into your head / yeah we could stay alone, you and me and this temptation / sipping on your lips, hanging on by a thread, baby

late night watching television / but how’d we get in this position / it’s way too soon, i know this isn’t love (no) / but i need to tell you something

i really really really really really really like you / and i want you, do you want me, do you want me too?

Archetype — The Explorer Birthday — July 9th, 2002 Zodiac Sign — Year of the Horse, Rising Leo, Sun in Cancer, Moon in Cancer MBTI — ENFP Enneagram — 2, the Helper Temperament — Sanguine Hogwarts House — Gryffindor Moral Alignment — Chaotic Good Primary Vice — Lust Primary Virtue — Charity Element — Water/Fire (she’s a Water Horse, so she definitely identifies with that but in Western tradition she is Fire.)

Overview:

Mother — Tanya Qin Father — Peng Qin Mother’s Occupation — Editor-in-Chief of the San Francisco Chronicle Father’s Occupation — financial diviner Family Finances — wealthy Birth Order — middle Brothers —  none Sisters — Ting-Ting (Gemma Chan, May 13, 1993), Su (January 22, 2003) Other Close Family — close to their mother’s side, father’s side lives in China, but they’ve taken trips to see them once or twice. do not have any cousins/aunts/uncles, but close to their grandparents. Best Friend — Daisy Zanetti, they grew up together. Met in school and were thick as thieves right away. Daisy is a half-fairy, so they both understood the whole “half” background thing. Other Friends — Lots and lots of friends~ Enemies — There was probably like one Mean Girl that Mei was always antagonizing and who was always antagonizing her. Pets — None. Home Life During Childhood — Relatively happy. Has nice, loving parents. Did a lot of Family Activities, since that was important. Mother was busy a lot with work, but her father was around a lot and Ting-Ting was always around (until she went to school.) Town or City Name(s) — San Francisco, CA What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — Posters everywhere! Very personalized and customized. Lots of reds and golds. Probably had like one of those net things around her bed. Always very messy, because Mei starts a project and then just jumps to the next. Lots of natural light too probably. Any Sports or Clubs — Dance and Gymnastics. Mei has kept up with both of these throughout the year. Does both ballet and hip hop. Her favorite gymnastics is rhythmics. Favorite Toy or Game — She wouldn’t consider it a toy or game, of course, but loves doing tarot and tea readings. Also enjoys a good board game, is very competitive though. Schooling — Public school. Favorite Subject — Physical Education ?? Maybe literature. Art classes… Popular or Loner — Decently popular. She wasn’t one of the people that everyone knew but she had a wide circle of friends. Important Experiences or Events — Discovering she had divination skills. Deciding her specialization. Moving to Swynlake! Nationality — American Culture — Chinese-American Religion and beliefs — Spiritual, borrowing from a spread of Taoism, Buddhism, Chinese folklore, and Confucianism.

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim — Cheng Xiao Complexion — Fair-skinned Hair Colour — Naturally a dark brown, but she dyes it a lot! Eye Colour — Dark brown. Height — 5’6 Build — Athletic, but slim. Tattoos — None. Piercings — Ears. Common Hairstyle — Likes to braid it or put it in two buns. Does a lot of half-up/half-down hairstyles. Clothing Style — Chic and trendy, lots of colors and patterns. Mannerisms — Very bouncy, doesn’t sit still much. Twirls her hair around her finger a lot. Usual Expression —

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — Pretty healthy! I’m sure this is due to Ting-Ting constantly balancing her Yin-Yang Physical Ailments — None. Neurological Conditions — None. Allergies — None! Grooming Habits — Rather good. Takes a lot of care with her appearance. Always makes sure to moisturize and exfoliate and change out of sweaty clothes. Sleeping Habits — Average. Eating Habits — Eats a lot because Su is constantly making things, but can forget meals if she is distracted or concentrating. Exercise Habits —  Exercises a lot! Does all sorts of things like pilates and swimming and jogging. Emotional Stability — I give her a 7/10, she loses points for being a stubborn, unreasonable teenager and for her temper, but otherwise is pretty even-keeled. Body Temperature — Average. Sociability — Very social! Loves surrounding herself with people. Addictions — Love? Drug Use — None, we will see. Alcohol Use — Has gone to parties where she’s drank before, but not often.

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — Interrupting people, bouncing from topic to topic, meddling in things that she shouldn’t, talking back, being a general nuisance. Good Habits — Very kind, very caring. Wants to take care of all her people. Strong moral compass. Best Characteristic — Her certainty. Worst Characteristic — Her stubbornness. Worst Memory — Being told she would have to move to Swynlake. Best Memory — When her father told her that he was proud of her for completing her studies for being a sorcerer and accepting an apprenticeship. Proud of — Her magic, her family history, her looks, her sporting ability. Embarrassed by — Not much, probably the fact she isn’t very good at school. Driving Style — Probably was just learning how to drive. A speed demon, but surprisingly a good driver. Strong Points — Her moral center and her big heart. Temperament — Can be explosive, but general soft and sweet. Attitude — Generally positive. Weakness — Not knowing what she wants. Fears — Not knowing what she’s going to do with her life. Phobias — Anything unlucky, though I wouldn’t call it a phobia, more of a cautious regard. Secrets — None really? She doesn’t keep much from people. She’s very “This Is Who I am. Fight Me.” Regrets — Having to leave Swynlake. Feels Vulnerable When — People are angry or upset with her, she’s not following her heart. Pet Peeves — Being told she’s wrong, lol. Conflicts — Duty to Family v Duty to Heart Motivation — Following her heart. Short Term Goals and Hopes — Make friends and something out of her life in Swynlake. Long Term Goals and Hopes — Figure out what she wants to do with her life. Sexuality — As-is she is straight, but this can change. Day or Night Person — Day Introvert or Extrovert — Extrovert. Optimist or Pessimist — Optimist except she can be really sour when things don’t go her way.

Likes and Styles:

Music — Oh, gosh–where to start? Mei loves love songs, of course. Big fan of Elton John, Elvis Presley, Celine Dion, etc etc. She also loves modern stuff, of course. Taylor Swift, Carly Rae Jepsen, Ed Sheeran…if she’s really feeling it some Florence and the Machine. Loves KPop too. I’ll let Lauryl tell me who she stans. (Is that the phrase I feel like there is a phrase.) Anyway, anything that is love related, she’ll give it a listen. Books — Doesn’t actually like reading that much, tbh. Doesn’t hold her interest. Magazines — Do people read magazines anymore? Does Buzzfeed count as a magazine? Probably giggles over Cosmopolitan. Foods — Sweets! Chocolate is her favorite, but she likes licorice a lot too. Is one of those weird people that likes black licorice. Also, loves a good rice pudding. That’s probably her favorite dessert. She also loves chicken, any kind of chicken–she doesn’t care what you put it in or what you put on it. Isn’t much of a picky eater. Actually really enjoys being adventurous with her food. Drinks — Green tea, green tea, green tea! Mei loves tea, especially iced. She also surprisingly likes salt soda water–she goes back and forth on sweet and savory. Sometimes, she just really wants salt soda water because it is just crisp and refreshing and wakes her back-up and reorients her yin-yang when she needs it. Animals — Elephants! Mei loves elephants. She’s that girl that has like elephant shirts and an elephant backpack and an elephant stuffed animal probably. They have such a high emotional capacity and Mei really respects them for this. They are also just so cute with their floppy ears and their soft, sweet eyes! Loves birds too as most of them are symbols of good luck and good tidings–besides owls, which are harbingers of death. Sports — Gymnastics and dance. Social Issues — Magick Rights is the biggest one. Also feminism. Also all the “main” issues. Favorite Saying — “Better to light a candle, than to curse the darkness” - Chinese Proverb Color — Golds, yellows, reds, blues are her favourites. She loves gold because it is a Classy color. Most of her jewelry is gold. She loves yellow because it is bright and happy! Red is lucky in Chinese culture and it always reminds her of times like New Year’s! Also, it is the color of passion and love. Blues she likes because they are calming and gentle.  These are her lucky colors. She also loves pink, even though it is technically a color that she should avoid. Really hates white, because she doesn’t like what a blank slate it is. Also, hates brown because it is an icky boring color. As you can see, she has a lot of Opinions on colors. Clothing —Chic and trendy, lots of colors and patterns. Jewelry — Loves it! Wears mostly gold. Probably has a few staple pieces but then exchanges things depending on her mood. Websites — Tumblr, Instagram, Twitter etc etc TV Shows — CW shows and K/Cdramas Movies — All the great love classics: Gone with the Wind, the Titanic, When Harry Met Sally, Roman Holiday, all of Audrey Hepburn probably, the Notebook, Singing in the Rain…I could go on and on. She loves movies that tug at the heart strings and are full of that wild, amazing, passionate kind of love. They always make her swoon and if she is choosing a movie for movie night, you know it’s gonna be a romantic tearjerker. Though, she also likes romcoms. Doesn’t like action movies or horror movies or anything too intense, they freak her out Greatest Want — To figure out what to do with her life. Greatest Need — To grow up and learn things aren’t all about her, lmao.

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — A three bedroom apartment with Ting-Ting and Su. Household furnishings — Rather plain at the moment, but will probably grow cozy as they settle in. Favorite Possession — Her pseudogrimoire where she writes down all the signs and stuff that she sees and puzzles out the meaning to. Most Cherished Possession — Her wand, which is a fan that was her mother’s, her mother gave it to her and her father and Ting-Ting help her imbibe it with magic. Neighborhood — Tortuga Place Married Before — No Significant Other Before — Non-serious boyfriends and Serious crushes Children — She iS a child Relationship with Family — Very close with her dad, even though he’s always yelling at her and being disappointed in her. They have a lot in common and she loves him. Her and her mother also get along more or less, she’s less stringent than her dad. Ting-Ting and her probably have the most contentious relationship, but even that hasn’t been that bad really. Mostly Mei being a nosy, annoying little sister. It will get more intense now that Ting-Ting is the authority figure and Mei is pissed about their situation. Su and Mei get along more or less well, they annoy each other, as sisters are wont to do, but Mei would def consider Su one of her best friends. Car — None. Career — Student Dream Career — She doesn’t know !! Dream Life — Married, with children, though she doesn’t know what she wants out of a career. Love Life — Nonexistant, which pisses her off. Talents or Skills — Excellent gymnast and very good with her magic. Intelligence Level — Decently intelligent, has street smarts, tbh. Very sharp in conversation. Finances — Wealthy

[nadjadoll]

mega get to know me tag game

I’ve been tagged a bunch of times (mostly by @brucewyane thank you lovely I see and appreciate all the tags!) but also by @chuckhansen @honesthearts @faithchel @bivillains @newgenesis and @noonvvraith, thank you all!

Since I was tagged in so many different about me things I took the liberty of merging some of them especially duplicate questions~

I won’t tag anyone because this is a weird amalgamation of many different tag games...

time: 9:47 am name/nickname: just shiawna, no nicknames at least none i want to mention here afjslks named after anyone?: nope! my dad made my name up birthday: august 14th 1998 gender/pronouns: female, she/her zodiac: leo height: 5′2 eye color: hazel on the side of green nationality: american :/ currently wearing: black turtleneck like a slut, the jeans i wear everyday, yellow socks and my bop harley fuzzy creature slippers song stuck in my head: la vie en rose - edith piaf average hours of sleep: 6-7 special talents?: i can write moderately well i think hobbies?: writing, watching too much tv, daydreaming about fictional characters and loving my oc’s pets?: two cats, gimli and clara! craving: burgers first thing i notice about people: eyes or smile, everyone has such different unique eyes i love it

when did i create this blog: summer two years ago when i needed somewhere to express my love for far cry 5 what do i post: nowadays i mostly post dc, some oc stuff and generally whatever i’m into at the moment, rn it’s the mandalorian last thing googled: “the last of us troy baker” other blogs: i used to have like 3 sideblogs but i couldn’t handle it haha so now i just have this one do i get asks: i do from time to time! i just take waaaay too long to answer them hence why this one is so long asdfhjdsl why i chose my url: i have too much love for harley followers: too many that’s for sure

favorites colors: orange, yellow, pink, blue, red, black bands: first aid kit, saint motel, unloved, roza,  the limiñanas, mother mother, bear’s den   solo artists: zella day, jacqueline taieb, billie eilish, kaleo   songs: cowboy like me - taylor swift, roller girl - anna karina, black madonna - cage the elephant, benny goodman- saint motel, bang bang - nancy sinatra author: honestly couldn’t name any authors right now animal noises: cat chirps when they see a bird or something ice cream: chocolate chip cookie dough

last time i cried: last night out of stress last book: this is so bad but i cannot remember alfdsjsl last movie:  last song: broken parable - bear’s den last show: game of thrones dream job: can i just say nothing? i don’t dream of working dream trip: all around europe. particularly england, ireland, france, the netherlands and italy lucky number: don’t think i have one! instruments: i used to know how to play piano in middle school but i quit because it was too stressful for me to keep up with piano homework and school homework, i regret that now though top three fictional universes i'd like to live in: first thing that came to mind was the ghibli-verse, everything is beautiful and mystical and the food always looks amazing what more could you want. harry potter would be cool too because magic, i was thinking about that a while ago and if i were in the harry potter universe i would absolutely want to work with magical creatures. and for number 3 i think would be the dc universe, it sounds awful in theory but like i want super powers and to hang out with the heroes and stuff so i’ll take it have any kids?: heavens no, don’t think i’ll make it long enough to have em use sarcasm a lot?: i do when i’m like talking to myself akhfjhs i try not to around people i don’t know well though because i don’t want to weird them out or make them uncomfortable scary movies or happy endings: happy endings all the way, my life is basically a scary movie so enough of that thanks play any sports?: never and i ain’t about to start anytime soon coffee or tea: coffee but i guess it does depend on the type of tea, if it’s raspberry hibiscus sign me the heck up random: i wish i could get back the feeling of intense joy i had watching the mandalorian for the first time, i was on an all time high and i miss it, nothing could touch me i watched it like 6 times over and over again after i finished it aesthetic: pink and red heart patterns, bright colorful converse with an all black outfit, anything sparkly, plants everywhere, too much blush on, fake freckles, soft curly hair, a layer of cat fur on every piece of clothing, iced coffees all day long, loud music on late at night, pink pink pink, dark circles under eyes, candles on every surface, a million different kinds of pens, stacks of notebooks everywhere all unused, either pink/blue or red/black a la harley quinn

10 songs i’ve been listening to lately:

one way or another - blondie

why do you love me - charlotte lawrence

all of the spirited away soundtrack

crazy train - zella day

long story short - taylor swift

mindplay - roza

magdalene - bear’s den

el paso - marty robbins

bonnie and clyde - brigitte bardot, serge gainsbourg

votre coté yéyé m'emmerde - the limiñanas

my url in song titles: Happiness - taylor swift Alcatraz - oliver riot  Rebel heart - first aid kit Lonely gun - cyn Elenore - the turtles Easy livin’ - uriah heep No time to die - billie eilish Queen bitch - david bowie Ultraviolence - lana del rey I could tell you but i’d have to kill you - unloved Na na na (na na na na na na na na na) See me fly - roza Everybody knows - leonard cohen Leave me alone - idkhow

[thanks--for--listening]

are there still beautiful things?

ahahah guess who’s finally back! with another fic that i lowkey am not sure if i like but whatever here it is its back to dinah/helena except this time its a childhood au based on seven by taylor swift bc a bitch does be loving folklore. (also on ao3.)

~~

There was a spot by the beach, hidden away from the sand and the water, that only two people in the whole world had ever known about. Bushes and branches blocked the view from the ground, and leaves draped down to cover the entrance. It was Paradise, impossible to find if you didn’t know about it — there was no path, no sign. Just instinct and memory. Both of which Dinah had inherited. 

The sound of the other kids got quieter as she made her way through the dirt and trees, feeling for the familiar marker, the stub that meant she was almost there. She wasn’t sure she liked the silence, not when she didn’t have someone to share it with anymore. He’d sworn her to secrecy, and she always kept her promises, but Dinah hadn’t realized how lonely it would be to keep this secret all to herself.

The swing was exactly as she’d left it. He’d built it for her when they first found the spot, had promised it wouldn’t break, that it would be waiting for her every summer, and she’d never known him to be wrong but she still sighed in relief when she saw it. She didn’t know if she’d be able to get up without his help, but she’d grown since last year, and the difference between eight and nine was enough to reach the seat. Hanging from the branches above her, it gave her the height she needed to see the water through the leaves, to look down at the rest of the world and not have to worry about being seen. 

She wondered if he could see her up here. If he looked down on her the same way she looked down at everyone else. Mom said he did, but Mom believed in a lot of things that Dinah wasn’t sure about, and the world didn’t feel big enough for ghosts and heaven. Not when it already had magic. 

A noise pulled her back into reality, and she turned in time to watch a girl fall through the leaves and into Paradise. “Hey!” Dinah yelled without thinking, “You can’t be in here! This is mine!”

The girl jumped and turned toward her. For a minute Dinah forgot why she was yelling. She was the prettiest person she’d ever seen, except for Mom. Her hair was in two braids, each one long enough to pass her shoulders. Her eyes were so big she felt like she couldn’t stop looking at them, even if she’d wanted to. Which she didn’t. Once glance and she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to stop looking.

The girl still hadn’t said anything, was just staring at her, and it was only then that Dinah realized she looked scared. “How did you find this place?” She asked, trying her best to sound less angry. 

“I didn’t — I mean, it was an accident.”

“No one’s supposed to be able to find me when I’m in here.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave, I promise, I just — can I hide here? Just for a little bit, and then you never have to see me again.”

Dinah jumped off the swing, stepped closer to the girl. She’d picked herself off the ground, and now, standing in front of one another, Dinah realized the other girl was just a little taller than her. Usually she hated being short, hated that no one ever saw her as anything other than tiny and cute and weak, but this girl almost looked like she was trying to be shorter, to take up less space. Dinah didn’t understand it at all. 

“Who are you hiding from?”

“Everyone. But mostly Sal.”

“Who’s Sal?”

“My driver.”

That explained the uniform, the fancy looking dress and the super tall socks and the church shoes. Dinah thought it looked all wrong on her. Like a costume, something she was dressing up in just for show. “You’re one of those super rich people then, aren’t you?”

The girl made a face, like the question confused her. “I don’t know. How do you know if you’re super rich?”

“Well, most people don’t pay other people to drive them around unless they’re really, really rich.”

“Oh.”

Dinah shook her head. She’d always known they didn’t have much, felt like she was constantly being reminded of it. She wondered what it would be like, to get to not think about money. To have so much you didn’t even realize you had it. 

She tried to not be mean. It was something Mom said she had to work on, so she took a breath and reminded herself that it wasn’t this girl’s fault her parents had money and Mom didn’t. “Okay, so why are you hiding from your driver?” Dinah smiled. “Is he a spy?”

“What? No.”

“A pirate?”

“No.”

Dinah hesitated, before lowering her voice and asking, “Is he trying to hurt you?”

The girl gasped. “No. Sal would never hurt me.” 

“Then why do you need to hide so badly?”

The girl looked down at the scuff marks that would surely be out the next time she wore those stupid shoes. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I won’t.”

The girl looked up, and she must have seen the truth in Dinah’s eyes, because she sighed and said, “He doesn’t ever leave me alone. Everywhere I go lately he’s always right behind me. I’m just sick of it. I’m ten years old, I don’t need to be babysat all the time.”

“You’re right.” She looked at Dinah in surprise, so she added, “My mom lets me come here all the time. And I’m only nine.”

“She does?”

Dinah nodded. “We live down the street. I know every corner of this place.”

“Does that mean you know all the best hiding spots?”

“Yep. But none of them are better than this one.” She sat down, motioned for the other girl to sit with her. “You can hide here. I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier.”

“Thanks.” She slowly sat down next to her. “I’ve never been here before — Papa decided we needed to spend more time out of the house. Sal’s the one who picked the beach.”

“Did he not tell you where you were going? You’re not even wearing a bathing suit.”

“I didn’t have time to grab one — Papa had people coming over.”

“What does that mean?” She asked, but the other girl’s eyes had already widened, and Dinah didn’t know what she’d said but she’d seen that look before, knew it always meant something was wrong. 

“I’m not supposed to talk about it. About Papa. About business.”

Dinah shrugged. “Okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” The other girl nodded, but she still seemed nervous. She didn’t know what it was, exactly, but there was something about the sight of her fidgeting with her braids, loosening strands of hair until they poked out between the crosses, that made Dinah feel like she’d do anything to get it to stop, to make her feel better. It possessed her, took over so quickly she didn’t have time to think before she opened her mouth and said, “My Dad used to build houses.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He built everything. He made me that swing,” she pointed behind her, “and he helped me make this place. Helped me hide it.”

“He sounds like a lot of fun.”

“He was.”

The girl’s eyes scrunched together, and her head tilted slightly as she asked, “Was?”

Dinah nodded, stared at her hands in her lap. “He died last year. It was an accident.”

“Oh.” 

“I don’t like to talk about it that much.”

“Then why are you telling me?” She looked up, watched the other girl hesitate before adding, “That wasn’t right, was it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that wasn’t what I was supposed to say. That’s not what people usually ask.”

Part of her wanted to lie, but she shook her head instead. “No, not really.”

The girl's hands drifted back up to her braids, and now she was the one who wouldn’t look Dinah in the eye. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I never know how to do things right.”

“It’s okay.” The girl gave her a look, as if she didn’t believe her. “I’m serious. Everyone always gets weird and fake when my Dad gets brought up. I’d rather get questions like yours. Even if I don’t know the answer.”

“Really?” Dinah nodded. “Mama always says that I have to start learning how to be normal. But I don’t think that’s something most people have to learn. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Well, I think normal is boring and stupid. You don’t need it.” The girl smiled, and Dinah couldn’t stop from mirroring it. “I’m Dinah,” she said, sticking her hand out in front of her.

The girl reached for it, but pulled back. “I can’t tell you my name.”

“What? Why not?”

“Papa says we aren’t supposed to ever let anyone know who we are unless they already know. He says we have to protect ourselves and the family.”

“This isn’t like Stranger Danger, though. I’m not going to try and kidnap you with candy and a puppy.”

“I know. But I still can’t tell you.”

Dinah wanted to get mad. She thought she would. The past year, everything seemed to set her off, to fuel a fire in her stomach that she hadn’t noticed before, but now...the fire was quiet. And she wasn’t sure what that meant.

“Well, I need to call you something,” she finally decided. They both sat there, thinking, and in the silence Dinah could hear the birds chirping above them. She looked up, watched as two flew into the tree that carried the swing, danced around one another before flying off. Even as they flew away they stayed close by. It was like they belonged together. 

“I don’t have any nicknames,” the other girl said, but Dinah kept staring at the sky, following the birds until they were nothing more than a speck in the distance. 

“How about Blackbird?” 

The girl frowned. “That’s an animal, not a name.”

“So? My Dad used to call my Mom Canary. That means animals can also be names.”

“But why Blackbird?”

“My mom sings a song about one a lot. It’s really pretty. So the bird must be pretty, too.”

“Your Mom’s a singer?”

Dinah nodded. “That’s why Dad used to call her Canary. She has a different job to make money, but singing is her favorite. Just like me.”

“Then maybe I should call you that, too. So we both have nicknames.”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” Dinah couldn’t stop from smiling, especially when Blackbird smiled back at her.

It faded as she turned toward the leaves. Dinah stared at them too, and a second later she heard the footsteps. Neither of them breathed as the sound passed by Paradise; it was only when they got quieter again that Blackbird exhaled. 

“That’s probably Sal looking for me.”

“Will you come back?” She couldn’t stop the hope from slipping into her voice, from making her sound as desperate as she knew she was. Friends weren’t very easy to come by, and she wasn’t ready to let go of this one. Not yet. 

“I don’t know — I’ll try. I’ll tell Sal to bring me back next time I have to get out of the house. He should listen to me.”

“Well, you’ll know where to find me if you do. I’m always here.”

Blackbird smiled, and it looked like she was about to leave, before she stopped. The smile disappeared as she said, “You can’t tell anyone about me. Ever.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

She looked so afraid. Dinah didn’t understand why it mattered, but she held out her pinkie anyway. When Blackbird just stared at it, she sighed and reached for hers, forced their fingers to intertwine. 

“What are you doing?” 

“It’s a pinkie swear,” Dinah told her. “It’s stronger than a promise. It means I won’t ever tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”

Blackbird stared at their hands, their fingers still tied together. Dinah looked at them, too. It felt right. She couldn’t explain why, but she knew she didn’t want it to stop. 

The footsteps went by again, and she watched Blackbird jump, tug her hand back. She waited ten more seconds, staring at Dinah the entire time, before she disappeared, backed out of Paradise and into reality. 

—

A whole week passed before she saw her again. 

She’d begun to worry that she would never come back. Dinah told herself that not everyone had the freedom she did, that if Blackbird didn’t show it wasn’t because she didn’t want to, but because she couldn’t get away. Convincing herself took more work as the days passed. It wouldn't have been the first time she thought she’d made a friend only for them to bail on her. She knew people lied, but something about this girl had felt different. And she’d seen Paradise — she had to come back.

It was on Friday, as she sat on the swing trying to convince herself to not lose hope, that the leaves rustled. She turned and watched her walk in slowly, like she didn’t believe anyone would be waiting for her. Dinah saw the moment she saw her, saw the smile creep onto her face, and she knew she wore one, too. 

“You came back.”

“You waited for me.”

Dinah jumped off the swing. She still had the same two braids as last time, but the church dress was gone; instead, Blackbird was wearing a white tank top and skirt. It still didn’t look like her. “You’re not dressed for the beach again.”

“I know — we were on our way home from Tennis lessons when Sal turned around.”

“I didn’t know you played tennis.”

“I do lots of things. Mama loves activities. She says it makes us dignified, but I don’t really know what that means.”

Dinah shrugged. “I play soccer during the school year, but I don’t do much during the summer. Except when Mom teaches me guitar. What do you do?”

She spoke like she was reading from a book, saying another person’s words. “Fencing and Chinese lessons on Monday’s. Archery and Spanish on Tuesday’s. Piano and Italian on Wednesday’s. Violin and Gymnastics on Thursday’s. Chess and Tennis on Friday’s. The weekend is for practice. And church.”

“Wow. That’s a lot.” 

Blackbird shrugged. “Mama says they’re all supposed to teach me stuff, but sometimes I think she just wants to keep us out of the house.”

“Us?”

“My brother and I. He has his own lessons.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

Blackbird smiled, which made Dinah smile. “Yeah. He’s only seven, but he’s already way smarter than I am. And he’s really funny, except for when he’s being annoying.”

“You’re so lucky. You have a brother, and you play two instruments. I only know guitar, and I’m not even good at it yet.”

She shook her head. “You’re the lucky one, Canary. You get to come here whenever you want. You don’t have to hide from your parents.”

Dinah bit her lip. She knew she could lie, knew if she agreed Blackbird would think nothing of it, but when she tried to nod, she couldn’t. She didn’t want to — not with her. “Actually, I kinda do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, my mom doesn’t think I’m alone when I come here. She thinks I have all these friends I hang out with. If she knew I didn’t have any, she’d worry. And she has enough to worry about already.”

“You don’t have other friends?” The question was so genuine Dinah couldn’t get mad. She didn’t say it like she was trying to make fun of her, but like she didn’t believe it. Like Dinah being friendless couldn’t possibly be true. 

“No. After my dad, I got kinda mad at everyone. Wasn’t very fun to be around. And now…” she shrugged. “I don’t really know how to try again. Everyone at school’s already made up their minds about me.”

Blackbird didn’t say anything. Dinah wondered if she’d done it again, managed to ruin it before they could even start, but then she sighed. “I’m not sure how to help,” she finally said, “because I don’t have any friends, either.”

“You don’t?”

She shook her head. “My family…intimidates people. The other girls at school are told not to talk to me.”

The anger came almost instantly. “Well, they’re dumb! Who cares what your family does?”

“They’re not dumb — they’re scared. But I’m not entirely sure why. I think it has to do with the business, but no one will tell me what that is.”

Realization hit her. “Is that why you didn’t want to tell me your name? So I wouldn’t be scared?”

Blackbird wouldn’t look at her. “It might have been part of it.”

Dinah reached for her, ignored the way her nerves seemed to jump as she grabbed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me, but I don’t care who your family is — nothing about you could ever scare me away.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. I’m not a coward — plus, it doesn’t matter what your last name is. You’re not scary. Especially when you’re dressed like that.” 

She smiled, and Dinah knew she should let go of her hand now, but she lingered, just a little. It felt nice, and Blackbird wasn’t pulling away. So they sat there for a minute, neither of them saying anything, and Dinah didn’t usually like silence, but she didn’t mind this one. 

“Hey, did I tell you what we called this place?” She eventually asked. Blackbird shook her head. Dinah smiled, stood up and spread her arms out wide, did her best to act as dramatic as possible. “This,” she announced, “is Paradise.”

Blackbird laughed, and Dinah thought it might be the most beautiful sound in the world. “It’s perfect. I never want to leave.”

—

Their meetings were sporadic at best. Blackbird rarely showed up on the same days or at the same times, but Dinah could usually count on seeing her at least a few times each week. She always wore something frilly and fake, and Dinah wasn’t sure what looked like her, but she knew it wasn’t anything she’d ever worn. 

They spent most of their time talking. She was always having to listen for Sal, and they never knew when she’d be able to come back, so they fit as much as they could into every day. Dinah told her about the best Saturday morning cartoons (Blackbird’s parents wouldn’t let her or her brother watch them), and she told Dinah about all her different lessons. Dinah learned that she liked archery and the piano best, and hated chess most of all. 

“It’s too slow,” she complained, “and I always lose.”

“That’s why you should just play checkers instead,” Dinah kept telling her. “It’s faster and way more fun.”

“Mama says chess teaches you strategy and patience.”

“When are you ever gonna need to know how to do strategy?”

She laughed at that. “Strategy isn’t something you do, it’s something you learn.”

“Well, it sounds boring. It’s summer! You’re not supposed to be learning anything!”

“Not in my family.” She laughed, but it always made Dinah a little sad to hear her talk like that. Blackbird had looked so confused the first time she asked why she didn’t just quit whatever she didn’t like. She’d said that what she did wasn’t up to her; Dinah decided then that she wasn’t a fan of either of Blackbird’s parents, not if they kept her from doing fun stuff. From figuring out what she liked. Who she was. 

—

She remembered the first time Blackbird used the swing. Dinah had caught her staring at it for weeks, but she didn’t say anything. Sharing Paradise was one thing, but he’d made the swing for her. It felt wrong to let anyone else use it. 

The more time they spent together, the more she thought maybe she was looking at this all wrong. He might have made Paradise for her to hide in, but that didn’t mean she had to hide alone. And she wanted Blackbird to be happy. She was beginning to think she wanted that more than anything else. 

So the next time she caught her looking, Dinah decided not to ignore it. “Do you wanna use it?”

She looked at her like a deer caught in headlights, like the very act of wanting it was something to feel guilty about, and whatever hesitation Dinah might have had disappeared instantaneously. She stood up, held her arm out and waited for her to take it; it took her a minute, but Dinah would have waited hours if that’s what she needed.

“You can’t swing too hard, otherwise the branch could give out,” she said as they walked up to it. “But you can see the whole beach from up there.”

Blackbird reached for the seat, letting her hand drift over the wood. “Are you sure I’m not going to break it?”

“I’m positive.”

Dinah watched as she jumped up, clinging to the rope that tied it to the tree above them. Part of her wanted to close her eyes, to bring up the view she’d memorized ages ago, to pretend they were both looking at it at the same time, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn away. Not when Blackbird was staring at the beach with wide eyes and wearing a smile that blew the view itself out of the water. 

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly. 

Dinah hummed in agreement. “Dad used to say this beach was the secret gem of Gotham. That it stayed beautiful because not many people knew about it.”

“He was right.” She seemed to speak on instinct, and Dinah watched as she brought herself back down to earth, her face changing along the way. “He made this for you. It’s special. I shouldn’t be up here.”

“No, it’s okay.” She had to reach forward to stop her from jumping off the seat. “Stay.”

“But—“

“But nothing.” She looked at her like she didn’t believe it, and Dinah had to search for the words to explain what had changed. “My dad made this whole place for us to be together. He built me the swing so I could see what he saw. But he’s gone now, and I don’t want to be alone here anymore.”

She didn’t look fully convinced, but she also didn’t try and jump off again, so Dinah counted it as a win. They stood there, listening to the birds and the bugs and everything else around them. It was funny, she thought, how different the world sounded when there was someone else with you to listen. How nature’s noise didn’t feel like it was desperately trying to fill the space around her anymore. 

—

There were some days when Blackbird was quiet. She’d come in and sit down, never saying much or looking up at her. It was almost like she was in a trance, like she was lost in her own head, and Dinah couldn’t do anything but wait for her to find her way out again. On the quiet days, she sat with her, stared up at the sky and made sure to stay close enough so that she always knew she was there. 

It had started as one of those days, until Blackbird broke her own silence. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything.”

“How does it feel? To lose someone?”

Dinah couldn’t stare at the ground fast enough. “It’s not great.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m not — I don’t want to make you sad. Or talk about it if I’m not allowed to ask.”

“No. It’s okay,” she said, and she was surprised to find that she was telling the truth. Everyone else who asked her about it only pissed her off, but something made this different. Made her different.

“It’s just — I don’t think I’m going to be very good at losing people. And I want to be prepared for when it happens. I don’t want to make things worse the way I always do.”

“You could never make anything worse.”

“I already do. With everything. It’s like the whole world was given a rule book except me, and now I never know how I’m supposed to act or feel or think, and everyone can see it but no one will tell me the right answers.” She waited a second, before adding, “I think you’re the only person who doesn’t notice.”

If Dinah could fight everyone who’d ever made her feel that way, she would. “The world is wrong, then,” she said, “if they can’t see what I see.”

Neither of them spoke for a minute. Dinah thought about her question, thought about the blurry days from right after and the nights she heard Mom pretend she wasn’t crying. She thought about all the months since, and she didn’t know which part was the most important, but she knew that Blackbird deserved to hear the truth. Or some version of it, at least. 

“Losing people is weird. You keep thinking it’s going to stop hurting eventually, but it doesn’t. Not really. The hurt just...changes. Like, some days I feel totally normal, and then something little happens, and it’s like I can’t breathe all of a sudden. Other days the pain just kinda sits in the background of everything I do, and no matter how much I try to ignore it, I can’t.”

“That sounds really hard.”

“Yeah. The worst part is that there’s no one to blame. It just happened. Mom says that as more time passes, it’ll get easier, but she also says we have to do the work to heal before that can happen. I don’t really know what she means when she says that, but I pretend like I do. I think it helps her, to think that I understand.”

Blackbird closed her eyes. “I hope I never have to lose anyone. And I hope you don’t have to anymore, either.”

Dinah tried to smile, but she couldn’t quite find it. “Yeah. Me too.”

—

“Do you believe in magic, Blackbird?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Too good to be true.”

Dinah hesitated, before asking, “Would you believe me if I said I have magic?”

She looked up, and Dinah watched her think it over before answering. “Yes.”

“Why? You just said you don’t believe in it.”

“I believe in you. And I don’t think you’d ever lie to me. So if you told me you could do magic, then you can do magic.”

Dinah hesitated, before sitting up. “Okay. If I tell you this, you can’t tell anyone else. Ever.”

Blackbird sat up, too, stuck her pinkie out. Dinah reached for it, and while they held onto each other, she whispered, “My mom has superpowers, and I do, too.”

Her eyes widened. “What can you do?”

“Well, I can't do it yet. Not really. But my mom can destroy things with just her voice. And she’s gonna teach me how to do it when I’m older.”

“Wow.” She’d never told anyone before, but now, looking at her, she wasn’t sure why Mom had been so worried about people knowing their secret. Blackbird wasn’t scared of her. If anything, she seemed...amazed. Like Dinah’s powers made her special. Like Dinah was special.

“Mom says we have to hide it for now, but one day we’re gonna use them for good.”

“How?”

Dinah shrugged. “I guess fight bad guys.”

“Oh! Like the girls in your cartoon!”

She laughed. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

“I like that idea,” she said. “You would be a good superhero.”

Dinah gasped. “You should be one with me!”

“But I don’t have any superpowers.”

“Who cares? You can use your fencing swords! Or your bow and arrow! Or all that chess strategy.” Blackbird smiled, but she still looked like she didn’t believe it. Like she couldn’t see it. “We could wear matching costumes,” Dinah continued. “And we can use Paradise as our superhero base.”

“I guess I could be a good sidekick.”

Dinah gasped, reached over and punched her on the arm. “Don’t say that! We’d both be the heroes.”

“Is that even allowed?”

“Who cares? We’ll be grown-ups — we can make our own rules.”

She laughed, but it didn’t last very long. “It just doesn’t seem very likely.”

“Your parents won’t always be able to tell you what to do and where to go. One day, you’ll get to decide everything for yourself.”

Blackbird just shrugged. “Maybe.”

Dinah knew they could end it at that, but something in her didn’t want to let go of this just yet. “What color would you want your superhero costume to be?”

“I don’t know. Whatever color you like, I guess.”

She shook her head. “No, you have to pick for yourself. What’s your favorite color?”

“Mama says I look nice in green.”

“But what do you like?”

“I don’t know. Green, I guess. It’s easier to like whatever Mama likes.”

Dinah wasn’t sure what it was about today, what made this time different from the other days they’d spent here, but she couldn’t take it anymore. The anger came up before she could stop it. “What’s wrong with you?! Why don’t you ever stand up for yourself?”

She wanted the words back as soon as they came out. She wanted to rewind, wanted to be nicer, calmer, but instead she was stuck, forced to watch the way Blackbird’s face fell, the way her eyes widened and filled with tears. Her hand jumped up to her braids. She’d almost forgotten about the habit, hadn’t seen it in over a month, and she hated herself for being the reason it came back. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and Dinah couldn’t stand that her voice sounded that small, that she was the reason for it. She tried to stand up, tried to find the words to make it better, but Blackbird was gone before she had the chance, backing out of Paradise and disappearing among the trees.

—

She spent three days practicing what to say if she ever came back. She wrote it down, memorized it, stared in the mirror and repeated herself over and over and over again. Not apologizing had stopped her from getting her old friends back; she wasn’t going to let it stop her from losing this one. 

With every day that passed, she tried to imagine what Blackbird was doing. Whether she was winning in fencing. Whether she was learning a new song on the piano. Whether she was thinking about her. Missing her. Dinah thought about her life and wondered if maybe she’d overestimated what Paradise had to offer, if maybe she’d taken away its only appeal when she yelled at her. 

She was sitting on the swing when she finally saw her again. It almost felt familiar — the sound of the leaves rustling, Dinah turning back to find a skittish girl standing behind her. “You came back,” she said, instinct driving her off-script before she could even start. “I wasn’t sure that you would.”

“I wasn’t sure that you’d want me to come back.”

“No! I mean, yes! I do! I do want you back!” Dinah jumped off the swing, reached for her hands and prayed she wouldn’t pull away. “I’m so sorry, Blackbird. I never should have yelled at you like that. I didn’t mean it, any of it.”

“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have run away.”

Dinah shook her head. “No, this was all my fault. I didn’t mean to get upset. I just...I don’t like seeing you be mean to yourself. And I don’t like that you feel like you can’t be a person outside of your family. I think that’s what I was angry about, but I took it out on you. And that was wrong.”

“Why does that make you angry?” Dinah usually loved how every question she had felt honest and genuine, but she didn’t want her to ever have to question this. 

“Because I want you to be happy.”

“Why?”

“Because I think everyone deserves to be happy, but especially you. I care more about you being happy than anyone else. You're my best friend.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?” 

“Of course.”

“I think you’re my best friend, too, Canary. I promise I’ll never run away from you again.”

She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to jump or cry or scream; instead, she said, “I know you don’t like them, but I’m going to hug you now, because if I don’t I think I might explode.”

Blackbird laughed, and Dinah couldn’t help herself anymore. She flung her arms around her, squeezed as tight as she could. With her head against her chest, she could feel the way her body moved when she laughed, could feel the softness of those stupid clothes, could even hear her heart beating, the sound quiet but strong. She decided this, not Paradise, was her favorite place in the world.

“Would you be mad,” Blackbird said hesitantly, “if I told you I still don’t know what my favorite color is?” 

Dinah fought back a smile, even though she knew she couldn’t see her face. “No. We don’t have to be superheroes until we’re super old, anyway. I’m sure you’ll figure it out by then.” She forced herself to step back, to let go, to look her in the eyes. “Besides, whatever color you like now could change. So much will probably be different by the time we grow up.”

“Not us, though, right?”

“No,” Dinah said, and she knew she was telling the truth when she promised, “We won’t ever change.”

—

Dinah saw her for two weeks straight at the beginning of August. The first week was perfect. The days felt special — earned, almost. As if it was their reward for having spent the rest of the summer stealing minutes and hours whenever they could. The sun never left, and it took Sal longer and longer to come looking for her. Most days, Dinah prayed he wouldn’t show, that his footsteps wouldn’t ever make themselves heard along their dirt path, and during that first week, her wish almost felt like it was coming true. 

On the eighth day, though, Blackbird burst through the walls of Paradise in tears. Dinah watched for a second, shock freezing her in place. Once it wore off, she had to fight the urge to throw her arms around her, to hold her so tight that she couldn’t feel anything else. Dinah remembered days when she used to cry like this. Sometimes she needed the pain, needed to scream and cry just to get it all out, so she sat next to her, put her head on her shoulder and waited for her breaths to slow. 

When they did, she had to bite back all her questions. She added patience to the list of reasons she wished she could tell her Mom about Blackbird, put it right next to the other things their relationship proved: that she hadn’t lost the ability to be a friend to someone, that she hadn’t been lying all summer, that she’d be okay. But she’d made a promise. And no matter how selfish she wanted to be, she wasn’t in the habit of breaking promises. So she waited. And waited. And after what felt like forever, Blackbird finally spoke. 

“I heard him,” she whispered, “on the phone.”

“Heard who?”

“Papa.” She stared at the trees in front of them, and she spoke in a voice Dinah didn’t recognize. It was almost anger, but not quite. Almost sadness, too. Somewhere in between, maybe, but whatever it was, whatever she was feeling, it was heavy. Dinah fought back the thought that maybe she wasn’t strong enough to help carry it.

“What did he say?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t hear it all. He didn’t know I was there. But it was the way he said it. It…” she shivered, and Dinah finally put an arm around her, tried to pull her closer. “I’ve never heard him talk like that before. Not to me, not to anyone.”

For the first time she turned, and all Dinah could see was panic. “On the phone, he...he was threatening people. He was yelling and using bad words, and he was acting really, really scary, but I don’t think it was pretend. I think he meant it all.”

Dinah didn’t need to know anything else. “Okay. Then you’re not going back.”

The panic melted into confusion almost instantly. “What?”

“Home. You’re not going back. Not if your dad is scaring you.”

“Where would I go?”

“You can come live with me. My mom won’t mind. I know she won’t.”

Blackbird shook her head. “She wouldn’t want me.”

“Of course she would. You’re nice and smart and fun and pretty. Anybody would want you.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me. If you came and lived with me, it would be like Paradise, but every single day.” She smiled, let herself run away with the idea. “You could sleep in my room with me, and we could stay up late every night, and we could come here whenever we wanted.”

She smiled, just a little bit. “It does sound fun.”

“It would be perfect! You wouldn’t have to be scared all the time, and I wouldn’t have to be alone.”

For a minute, it looked like she let herself see it. The life they both wanted, almost within their reach. But it didn’t last. “My family would find me.”

“Then...we’ll run away! Just the two of us. We’ll go somewhere so far they’ll never find us.”

“How? We’re just kids.”

“We can jump on a train. Or become pirates and sail across the ocean.” She saw the hope in her eyes fading away. Dinah desperately tried to get it back. “Or maybe I can learn to drive, and I’ll take my dad’s old truck and come get you, or—“

“It doesn’t matter,” she said softly. “Nowhere in the world is far enough that they won’t find me. They’d never let me go.”

“Not even if you asked?”

Blackbird shook her head. “They need me. For business.”

“Why would they need you for that? You’re ten.”

“Not now — later. My family,” she said softly. “They’re all part of it. Whatever it is. Whatever we do. And one day, I will be, too.” 

She spoke as if the words were a realization. Dinah watched her eyes go wide, her hands creeping toward her braids. “Hey,” Dinah reached for them, tried to pull them away from her hair. “It’ll be okay.”

Blackbird shook her head. “I think it already started. I just didn’t notice.”

“What are you talking about? What’s already started?”

“Letting us in on the secret. I think...I think I’m going to know everything soon.”

“Didn’t you want to know?”

“Not anymore.” She stood up suddenly, started pacing around Paradise. “I’m the oldest. It’s gonna be me. And I’m going to have to mean it all, too.”

“Wait, Blackbird, slow down. What’s going to be you?”

She froze, looked down at her as if it was obvious. “I’m going to be in charge. Of the business.”

“Says who?”

“Everyone. Mama, Papa, my aunts and uncles. That’s what they meant when they said we were the legacies. Next in line. It was always going to be me or Pino, but if the one in charge is going to have to…” she shook her head. “It has to be me. I won’t let it be him.”

Dinah tried to wrap her mind around what she was saying, but it was like trying to do a puzzle while missing half of the pieces — the picture just didn’t make any sense. “But do you want to do it? Be in charge and be mean to people?”

“Don’t you get it?!” Now, for the first time all summer, Dinah was seeing how anger, plain and simple, looked on her. “I don’t get to do what I want. Ever. I never have and I never will. I can’t hide, I can’t run away. Nothing in the world can stop this from happening.”

They sat in the silence for a minute. It hurt more than the ones she’d grown used to — as if it was filled with pain instead of comfort, anger instead of ease. She wanted to fight back. She wanted to stand up and yell, to say that she was stronger, that she could fight it. She could save her. But Dinah had nothing to offer. She was small and adults were big, and nothing she did could change that. Not yet, at least. Not now.

But not forever. Mom always told her that the power inside of her, inside both of them, would let them help people. One day, Dinah would be the powerful one. The hero. She’d learn, and she’d grow, and she’d never have to feel helpless again. Her voice would save them both — all she needed was patience. 

“I’ll stop it,” she finally said. “When I’m older and stronger and can use my powers. I’ll come save you. I’ll protect you. You just have to wait for me.”

“How? How could you stop it?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll figure out a way. And you won’t ever have to be what they want you to be. You won’t have to do anything unless you want to.” She stuck her pinkie out before she could decide whether it was a good idea or not. “I promise.”

Blackbird looked like she was going to protest, but she didn’t. She nodded and locked pinkies with her, and Dinah prayed she wasn’t making a promise she couldn’t keep.

—

The following Monday came heavy with the truth neither of them wanted to acknowledge. It was hidden in every word they said, in the silence between. They skirted around it, tried to ignore it as long as they could, but with every passing minute, she knew it only grew stronger: the feeling of running out of time.

Dinah broke first. “What are we going to do when school starts again?”

Blackbird just shrugged. She was laying down, staring up at the sky. Dinah sat on the swing, and she was tempted to look up with her, to try and find whatever had caught her attention, but nothing the world had to offer could make her take her eyes off Blackbird. Not when she wasn’t sure how much longer she had to memorize the sight of her. 

“I don’t want to think about school.”

“Yeah. Me neither.” She hesitated, before adding, “I wish we got to go to school together.”

“We wouldn’t be in the same grade, though. I’m a year older than you, remember?”

“Yeah, but we could still see each other during recess and lunch. Plus, just knowing you’re there would make it better.”

“You would hate my school. We have to wear uniforms every single day. Dresses with tights and fancy shoes.”

“I would wear them for you,” Dinah said, and she saw her smile, still staring at the sky. “You would hate my school, too — the only afterschool activity we have is basketball. Nothing as fancy as everything you do.”

“I would give up all of my lessons for you,” she said back, and Dinah didn’t know what to do with the way her words made her feel. Warm and fuzzy and seen. It made her never want to hide again. 

Blackbird turned, shifted onto her elbows so they were facing each other. “Canary,” she said, and Dinah could hear it in her voice that the time for pretending was over. “Are we ever going to see each other again after this week?”

“Of course we are,” she responded with more confidence than she had.

“How? When?”

“I don’t know. But even if we have to spend all year without each other, we can always come back to Paradise next summer.”

“That’s a long time from now.”

“Yeah,” Dinah said, “but I’d wait forever if I had to. Best friends don’t give up on each other.”

Blackbird nodded, with more determination than Dinah had ever seen from her. “I believe you,” she said, “but if it’s going to be that long, we should make this week the best week ever. Do everything we want before we have to wait.”

She knew exactly what she wanted to do, had known for a while, but found the courage in Blackbird’s conviction to follow through, to make a plan and stick with it. “Okay,” she said. “Best week ever.”

—

“I have a surprise for you,” Dinah said the minute Blackbird stepped into Paradise on Tuesday. She pulled the guitar from behind her back and watched as her eyes widened. 

“Are you going to play for me?” Any nerves she might have had slipped away with the question. Dinah wasn’t sure she’d ever heard Blackbird sound that excited. And it was all because of her. The thought made it impossible to fight back a smile.

She nodded, sat down and heard Blackbird sit down across from her. She’d spent all morning anxiously tuning the strings the way Mom had shown her, playing the hard parts over and over again until she knew she wouldn’t mess them up.  

“Remember when we first met, how I told you about that song? The one my mom likes to sing?” She fiddled with a couple of the strings as she talked, listened to make sure the notes sounded the way they were supposed to. 

“The one about the Blackbird?” She asked, and Dinah smiled, answered her with chords, watched her fingers to make sure they moved to the right places at the right time. Her first breath shook just a little but she let the words out anyway:

Blackbird singing in the dead of night,

Take these broken wings and learn to fly,

All your life,

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

She didn’t trust her hands not to falter, not if she looked up, looked at her, but she stole a glance anyway, felt her fingers stumble across the notes as she took in the sight of her. Blackbird was smiling, wider than she’d ever seen. Dinah knew she wouldn’t be strong enough to keep going if she kept her eyes up, so she forced them down, let the verses ease in one after the other. The chorus came quickly and she let it, let her voice lead her instead of her mind, let it carry her through the melody. Singing had always come easily to her but now it felt effortless, as natural as breathing. 

She waited until the song ended, the last guitar notes fading into nothing more than an echo, before letting her eyes drift back up to Blackbird’s. She was wearing the same smile she’d spotted earlier, only this time it was accompanied by a blush in her cheeks and tears in her eyes. They sat in the silence for a moment, and Dinah wouldn’t have minded if it never stopped, if they’d been able to live in that moment forever.

“That was beautiful,” she eventually told her, voice barely over a whisper. 

Dinah felt heat underneath her own cheeks. “It sounds better when my Mom sings it,” she confessed, “but I had her teach it to me after we met. I’ve been practicing all summer.”

“I don’t care what your mom sounds like — no one could possibly sing that better than you.”

She laughed. “I guess I live up to my name, then.”

“Yeah, I guess you do.” She hesitated, before adding, “I don’t ever think I’ll live up to mine. To that song.”

“You already have,” Dinah told her. “You’re better and more beautiful than any piece of music.”

She blushed some more, her cheeks filling with bright red, and Dinah couldn’t help but laugh. “I wish we could be like the song and just fly away,” she sighed, and Dinah thought she looked hopeful this time. Like she could see it. Like part of her was beginning to believe it might actually come true. 

“One day, we will.” 

Blackbird just looked at her. Dinah couldn’t explain the way she felt, couldn’t find words or lyrics or melodies to match a look like that. All she could do was take it in.

“Can you sing to me again?” She asked. Dinah smiled, nodded, adjusted her fingers and let the notes fill the space around them, let them build until the rest of the word faded away. 

—

On Wednesday, it was Blackbird who walked into Paradise with her hands hidden behind her back. 

“I have a surprise this time,” she told her, and Dinah smiled, stood up and stared at the object she held out in her hands.

“You brought...a pocket knife?”

She nodded, completely unfazed. “It’s Sal’s. I found it in the car today. I was thinking we could use it to write our name on one of the trees. That way anyone who finds this place will always know that it’s ours.”

“You’re so smart,” she told her as she turned her head, looked around Paradise for the perfect spot. She gasped when she found it, staring back at her in plain sight. “We should write it on the swing!”

She ran toward it, but when she turned around, Blackbird hadn’t moved. “Your dad made that for you,” she said softly. “I can’t put my name on there.”

“It’s okay — I want you to.”

“But—but it’s special!”

“You’re special,” she told her, and Blackbird looked down, began fidgeting with the knife. Dinah walked over, reached out and held onto her hands until she felt them stop. 

“Why?” Her voice was so quiet, Dinah wasn’t sure she would have heard her if they hadn’t been standing inches apart. 

“You’re the only person I know who looks at me and doesn’t see someone broken. And I want to remember that.”

She looked up then, freezing her in place with nothing more than her eyes. “How could anyone ever see you as broken?”

“Doesn’t matter. Because you don’t. So would you please come over and help me carve our names onto this swing?”

She waited a minute, staring at Dinah as if she was giving her a chance to change her mind; Dinah knew she never would. Blackbird must have realized it, too, because she nodded, held onto her hand as they stepped over toward the swing. 

Dinah flipped it over. “The back isn’t polished, so it’ll be easier to put them here.”

“Is it okay if we use our nicknames?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? Who you are doesn’t change just because someone calls you something different. Here,” Dinah said, grabbing the knife out of Blackbird’s hand and flipping it open. “I’ll go first.”

“Be careful,” she said. “I’ve never actually used a knife like this before.”

“Don’t worry — I used to watch my dad do stuff like this all the time. We just have to be slow and careful, and never aim the knife toward our bodies.”

It was only when she started carving that Blackbird let go of her hand, moving to hold the swing steady instead. Dinah kept her eyes down as she worked, watched as each letter took shape. It wasn’t as clean as she’d have liked, but it would have to be good enough. 

“Okay,” she said, taking a step back and holding out the knife. “Your turn.”

Blackbird moved even slower than she did. She carved each letter with precision and grace that Dinah knew she’d never have. When she got to the letter c, she started and stopped, frowning at the wood in front of her. Dinah didn’t wait for her to ask for help, knew that if she did, she’d be waiting a lifetime; instead, she walked to the other side of the swing, placed her hand on Blackbird’s and helped her finish the letter, and then the next, and then every one after that. When it was done, Dinah waited, just an extra second, before stepping backwards, letting space grow between them again. 

“There,” she said. “It’s ours. Blackbird and Canary will forever have this spot marked.”

“What happens if someone moves the swing?”

“They won’t,” she replied instinctively, before deciding to add, “and if they do, we’ll just find it and bring it back. We won’t let anyone take Paradise away.”

“We can do that?”

“We can do anything.”

Blackbird smiled. “If the world thinks you’re broken, then I’m glad I get to be broken with you.”

“You’re not broken. Not even a little bit.”

“And neither are you. So maybe it’s everyone else that’s shattered. Not us.”

“Yeah,” Dinah smiled, and she knew she wasn’t pretending anymore when she agreed, “Not us.”

—

The weather on Thursday was perfect. Dinah remembered staring at the sky and thinking it looked fake, that it must have been a painting, because real skies couldn’t possibly be that blue. The sun was shining, and Paradise was theirs, and not even the threat of the end of summer could ruin her day. 

Blackbird was sitting in front of her. She looked the way she always did, with her two braids and that church dress and those stupid shoes she’d worn so many times. Staring at her, Dinah wondered whether she’d ever see the real Blackbird, not the one her parents controlled. What would that girl look like? Did she even know?

“Why are you staring at me?” Her voice knocked her out of her own thoughts. 

“No reason,” Dinah replied quickly, before impulsively asking, “Can I braid your hair?”

“It’s already braided.”

“No, I mean, can I take it out and do a different braid?”

“Why?”

Dinah shrugged. “You always wear it the same way. Plus, Mom’s been teaching me how to do all kinds of braids. I think I’m getting pretty good at it.”

“My mom braids my hair, too,” Blackbird said. “She’s the one who does it like this every morning. She’ll notice if it’s different.”

“I can rebraid it like that before you have to leave. I just wanna see what you look like with something different.” 

“Okay,” she said, and Dinah wasn’t sure why she seemed nervous all of a sudden, but she decided she didn’t want to push it. Not today, when they only had tomorrow left.

She watched as she reached for the hair ties, separating each strand until her hair hung loose across her shoulders. It felt longer this way, and part of her didn’t want to touch it, didn’t want to change it at all. She looked older, too, and more relaxed. She hadn’t realized hair could change a person so much. Maybe it was its own kind of magic.

“Why are you staring again?” Dinah could see the way her cheeks began turning red, and she smiled, reached out for it before she could help herself. 

“You look really pretty with your hair down,” she told her, running her fingers though it as she got up and kneeled behind her. “You should wear it like this more often.”

“Thanks,” she said, and Dinah couldn’t see her face but she knew she was blushing again. “How are you going to braid it?”

“I think I’m gonna start up here, kinda on the side,” she told her, “and then it’ll come all the way around to your other shoulder.”

They didn’t talk much as she worked. Dinah didn’t expect to be grateful for the silence, not on their second to last day, but there was something nice about the quiet. There always had been. With her other friends, she used to hate it when they had nothing to say, but Blackbird made it easy. Blackbird made everything easy. 

Dinah finally broke it when she asked for her hair tie. She tied it off, moved in front of her and brought the end of the braid with her, laying it down so it just barely rested on her shoulder. 

“How does it look?”

Dinah didn’t know how to explain that it made her look like a princess straight from the movies she watched and books she read, so she settled for, “I think it looks pretty good. I wish I had a mirror or something to show you.”

“That’s okay,” she said softly. “I trust you.”

They sat like that for another minute, face to face, the grass and dirt and air keeping the rest of the world locked away. She wished more than anything that they could stay right here forever. That nothing ever had to change. That time could stop, rewind and let her do this whole summer all over again. 

She watched Blackbird’s face, saw the smile slowly fade away. “You look sad. What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to miss you,” Dinah said softly.

“I’m not leaving yet. We still have tomorrow.”

“And after that?”

Blackbird looked down, and Dinah saw her fidget with the extra hair tie now wrapped around her wrist. “After that, we go back to real life.”

“I hate real life.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“How am I going to last until next summer?”

“Maybe,” she said, and she looked up with the tiniest smile. “Maybe we can write letters to each other. And we can hold onto them until next year, and then when we see each other again we can read them and catch up on everything we missed. And maybe that’ll make it feel like we’re still here. Like we still get to talk to one another.”

“It won’t be the same,” she snapped. She saw Blackbird’s face fall, and quickly added, “But it’s better than nothing. We should do it.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s a stupid idea.”

“No, it’s not stupid. I’m sorry. I just wish we could talk more.”

“So do I. You’re the only person I actually like talking to. Well, you and my brother, but he gets tired of talking really fast.”

“At least you have a brother. I won’t have anyone to talk to anymore.”

“You have your mom,” she said, “and you can—“ she froze, her eyes wide and her body completely still.

“Blackbird, wha—“ 

“Shh!” She lunged forward, threw her hand over Dinah’s mouth; a few seconds later she heard it. Footsteps, familiar ones, passing right by them and then disappearing. 

“Is that Sal? Already?” She whispered. 

“It has to be,” she said as she stood up. Dinah watched her reach for her braids and only finding one, the panic growing as she frantically undid the hair tie. 

“Here, let me help.” Dinah jumped up with her, undoing all of her work as fast as she could. “Why is he already looking for you? You just got here.”

“I don’t know. But I have to hurry. I don’t want him to find us.” Dinah stepped back, watched as Blackbird shook her unbraided hair out and ran her fingers through it. “I’ll catch him on his way back down.”

“Wait!” Dinah reached out, grabbed her arm before she could step through the leaves. “You’ll be back tomorrow, though, right?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Promise?” She asked, and Blackbird opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, the footsteps passed them by again. Dinah watched as she brought a finger to her lips, before slipping through the leaves. 

Dinah knew she shouldn’t follow. Most days, Blackbird left before he came looking, but now they were right outside, and she couldn’t help herself. She crept forward, stuck her head out just enough to see them without being spotted. They’d only made it a few steps past Paradise, but Blackbird had found her way in front of him, so Dinah could only see his back. 

“Boss says I’ve got to get you back home, kid.” Dinah thought his voice sounded funny, but maybe it was just the accent. She’d heard lots of people in the neighborhood whose first language wasn’t English, and he reminded her of them.

“Can we come back tomorrow?” 

“Sure, Helena. Whatever you want.”

She heard the leaves underneath them as they walked away, and she stuck her head out further, tried to watch them for as long as she could. Blackbird must have been thinking the same thing because she looked behind her, caught her eye and smiled. She stuck her pinkie out, and Dinah did the same, before she turned forward and walked out of the woods.

It wasn’t until they were gone that Dinah realized what had happened. What she’d heard. What she now knew.

—

Helena. She spent all Friday morning practicing the sound of her name. She liked how it felt, found herself whispering it while she waited in Paradise, the word getting stuck in her head like the lyrics to her favorite songs. Helena, Helena, Helena. 

Dinah thought about what would happen when she told her she knew. Blackbird—Helena would definitely freak out, but she’d begun figuring out the secrets to calming her down. And maybe, once she had time to think about it, she’d realize that it was okay for Dinah to know the rest. And once she knew everything, well...waiting all summer seemed pointless. If they were going to be writing each other letters, they might as well send them.

She rehearsed every word, imagined every possible scenario and prepared for it, but Blackbird never came. The hours slipped away slowly, painfully. As Dinah walked home, the setting sun her cue to leave, she began to worry. Sal had said they could come back. She’d pinkie promised. And Dinah knew people lied, knew they said one thing and meant another, knew they were cruel and broke promises all the time, but not Blackbird. Not them.

—

She spent most of the next few days trying to convince herself that Helena was okay. Her imagination loved to run wild, and the few stories she’d told about her family only gave them more fuel. Maybe her parents decided she needed to go last minute back-to-school shopping, or maybe they decided she needed to be locked up forever, like a Princess stuck in a tower. Maybe they went to visit her aunts and uncles, or maybe they’d shipped her off across the country, or maybe they’d sent her over the ocean on a boat so far no one would ever find her again. Dinah came up with hundreds of potential explanations, each one burying the thought that maybe she hadn’t come on purpose. Maybe she’d finally figured out what everyone at school already knew: Dinah Lance was not someone you wanted to be friends with.

As she walked on the bus Monday morning, she tried to keep her head down. Most people didn’t look at her much anyway, not after last year, which made ignoring them a lot easier. The only exceptions were the boys from the street over, who always sat near her and never shut up about anything. 

This morning was no different. As she sat down, she heard them bickering, risked a glance up and saw them crowding over a page from a newspaper. Curiosity trapped her, left her looking for too long, and before she could stop it, she caught another pair of eyes.

“You see the news, Dinah?” 

“What news?”

He tried to hold the paper out to her, but another arm pulled him back. “Dude, are you crazy? She can’t see this.”

Her pride betrayed her, made her narrow her eyes and ask, “And why can’t I?”

She watched the way he began to squirm. Like he hadn’t expected her to fight back. “It’s just— I don’t want it to upset you.”

“Why would it upset me?”

“You know the Bertinelli’s?”

Dinah raised an eyebrow at him. “Who?”

“The Bertinelli’s. One of the biggest crime families in Gotham. Don’t you pay attention?”

His friend smacked him on the arm, which almost made her laugh. “I guess not.”

“Well, someone went after them last weekend.”

Dinah waited for him to say more. “And this would upset me because…?”

He looked away, and suddenly she wondered if she should be nervous, if she should have kept her mouth shut and left it well enough alone. “Whoever it was, they took the whole family out. Burned the mansion down, too. But they, um. They also sent out photos to the press. Of the bodies. And I know that your dad—“

“Shut up and let me see that,” she said, grabbing the paper out of his hand before he could pity her any longer. She knew what everyone thought, but blood and gore didn’t scare her. It wasn’t anything new. She looked down, stared at the people lying in black and white on the floor, prepared herself to prove him wrong when—

Those shoes. She knew those shoes. They were too fancy for the beach, always worn with long white socks and polished no matter what happened to them, except now they were covered in spots, the same spots that everybody was lying in. Blood, her mind whispered, that’s blood, but she hardly heard it, because next to her was a boy, small and sinking in a puddle of grey, and she didn’t know him, not really, but she knew he was funny and sweet and that Blackbird had promised to give everything up to protect him. 

She didn’t want to see it anymore, but her eyes wouldn’t let them go. Her body was covered, a woman lying practically on top of her, but creeping underneath she could see Blackbird’s hair was still down. She never wore her hair down. Dinah had promised she’d rebraid it but they’d run out of time, and now she was laying there with long hair and bloody socks and—

“Why.” 

“Why what?”

“Why did they do it?”

“I’m not sure.” She heard his voice soften, and part of her hated the pity that crept in but most of her couldn’t find the room to care about what they thought of her. Not anymore. “Money, probably. Everyone’s always killing people for money.”

She heard the other kids stand up, heard them walk toward the front of the bus. She tried to follow but she couldn’t move, not when she couldn’t stop staring at her. She saw his hand reach for the paper, let him pull it away. 

“I’m really sorry we showed you. It’s probably hard, with your dad and all, to see other people...well. You know.”

She forced herself to look up, to look away, to nod and blame her dead father and keep the most important promise she’d ever made, even when she wasn’t sure it mattered anymore. Blackbird—Helena, Helena Bertinelli had warned her that it would be dangerous if anyone knew they were friends. And Dinah had questioned her, had mocked her, but she’d been right all along. So nobody would know. Ever.

She didn’t remember anything about school that day. She stared at the board but all she saw was lines of shoes, all speckled and soaking and too still, even for a picture. She kept her mouth shut even when it hurt, even when all she wanted to do was cry and scream and yell at the sky. The boys on the bus home left her alone, and if she’d had room for any sort of feeling she’d be grateful, but feelings threatened to break the carefully built wall she’d constructed in the time it took her to get to her classroom that morning, so she gave them nothing. 

When she got off the bus, she walked past her house, past the water and the sand, through the trees, until she found the stub that meant she was almost there. Part of her wished she’d walk through the leaves and find her waiting, on the swing or sitting on the ground, but Paradise was empty. It was gone. And it was never coming back.

The dam broke. Dinah felt it snap, heard the echo from deep inside her, let it come out with no restraint. She opened her mouth and screamed, until the trees shook, until her vision went blurry, until she didn’t feel like a person at all. She swore she could see it, the power, the sound itself, but she didn’t care. It hadn’t been enough. Whatever it was that lived inside her, she knew it couldn’t be magic, because magic wasn’t supposed to be cruel. Magic wasn’t supposed to leave you when you needed it most. Magic was supposed to be strong enough to save her. 

When she woke up, her head was in her Mom’s lap. She could see the swing in front of her, the ropes frayed and barely hanging on, and she knew it was her fault. She’d destroyed Paradise. And nothing her Mom said could ever make it better.

—

Her training started pretty soon after that. Her heart wasn’t in it, but Mom was so worried, told her she had to know how to control it, so she went through the motions, learned about breath control and aim and how to turn it on and off. Using the cry left a bitter taste in her mouth, but every minute she spent focusing on training was a moment she didn’t have to think about mansions filled with smoke and bodies drowning in blood. And Mom looked so happy whenever she hit a milestone. One of them deserved that, she decided.

School never got better, but if Dinah was being honest, she knew she was the one who stopped trying. Her own worst enemy, as always. Mom worried, had asked about friends more than a few times, but her grades were always good, and eventually she learned to lie well enough to keep her questions at bay. Eventually, the lies began to feel a little like the truth. 

—

She thought about her more than she meant to. It was always in the little moments. The mini victories, the accomplishments she had no one to share with. As she got older, she tried to imagine what they’d be doing if things had gone different that day. What would Helena think about the girls at school, who glared and laughed at her behind her back and wore more makeup than twelve-year-olds ever needed? What would she think when Dinah showed her how much better she’d gotten on guitar? Would she have figured out her favorite color by now?

She tried to write a letter, once. The way they’d planned. Every word felt fake, pointless when she’d never get a chance to read them. She tried to finish, because she’d made a promise, and she didn’t break her promises, but Helena had. Every time she closed her eyes, Dinah saw her turning around, smiling, pinkie held out toward her. Maybe if she’d run after her, if she’d made it official, Helena would have kept it. She would have come back.

Dinah crumpled up the paper, threw it away, and didn’t try again. 

—

Years went by. Life got busier. Dinah joined the choir, found people to talk to at lunch and in between classes, but she knew better than to let it go any further. Acquaintances were safe. They didn’t ask questions or have any expectations. They wouldn’t hurt to lose.

Mom went to work, came back later and later, always seemed frustrated at the world. When Dinah was fifteen, she introduced her to friends who wore outfits like the ones she’d imagined as a kid and had all sorts of powers and abilities that shouldn’t be possible. She told her that she was fighting with them, that she needed to do more. They’d talked about it when she was little, talked about doing it together one day, but Mom couldn’t wait any longer, couldn’t sit by while people suffered. Not when she had the power to change it. But no matter how much she wanted to go, she still asked for permission. For her permission. She wouldn’t do it, if Dinah didn’t want her to.

Dinah let her go. She watched as she went out, night after night. Mom told her that once she turned eighteen she could come out with them, and Dinah wondered what she’d do when the day came. Once upon a time, it had been all she’d ever wanted, but that dream had died a long time ago. And yet, every night, every victory she watched them celebrate, gave it a little more life, made her think about colors and outfits and cartoons and doing good. She liked the idea of doing good.

—

Twelve days before she turned eighteen, Mom went out by herself. Dinah begged her not to. She wasn’t strong enough, not alone. She told her the police wouldn’t come, wouldn’t help her if she was the only one. She told her that life was unfair and people would always be hurt and she couldn’t save everyone, and risking her life when it wouldn’t help anything was reckless and dangerous and stupid.

Mom wouldn’t listen. She suited up, tried and failed to hide the pain in each movement. Dinah could see the leftover bruises and scars from the never ending battles that came before, decorating her body like a scrapbook dedicated to pain and suffering. Each one served as a reminder of what was waiting for her on the other side of that door. Each one could have been the end.

She tried to stop her; Mom ignored her. She begged to go with her; Mom refused. She threatened to go anyway; Mom gave her a look she’d never seen before, made her promise she wouldn’t follow. She swore she wouldn’t, even when the words felt like a betrayal. 

Dinah watched her leave. Ninety minutes passed before she decided she didn’t want to be the person who kept her promises anymore. She ran, faster than she ever had before, ran until she heard sirens, blue and red lights illuminating a scene darker than all of her nightmares combined. 

The first thing she saw was the puddle. With each flash it changed shades, but she’d never needed color to recognize blood. The black of her uniform wasn’t dark enough to hide it, and she was still, too still, and nobody was doing anything. They walked around her, ignored her, left her out in the open for anyone to see. Dinah wanted to run to her, wanted to grab her and take her away, but the news vans began driving up, and even then, some promises were too strong to break. 

She didn’t know where she was going when she turned and ran, but she wasn’t surprised when she walked through the leaves and into what used to be Paradise. The swing wasn’t hanging anymore but it was still there, lying on the ground, dirty and hidden and forgotten. She hadn’t come back, not since the day she’d found out, when she’d woken up in her mother’s arms and cried until she couldn’t breathe. She’d held her, carried her home, and Dinah knew she’d believed the same thing the boys on the bus had, but she let her, sat on her lap and pretended her grief was old and resurfacing and nothing more.

Her knees hit the ground, the first thing she remembered feeling since she ran out the door. She wanted nothing more than to scream, but Dinah knew her own strength now, knew the damage she’d cause, so she bit her tongue until it bled and suffocated any noise that threatened to escape. She stayed there until the sun began to rise, until she knew for sure that no one was coming to get her. 

—

By the time she met Cass, she’d grown used to the silence. She’d spent years drowning the memories in anything that would bury them, from whiskey to cigarettes to men and women who didn’t mind being used. In her low moments, when the thoughts snuck in, a voice questioning what they would think of her if they saw her now, she reminded herself that bad things happened all the time. Trying to prevent them was nothing more than wasted effort. She should have learned that lesson years ago, or at the very least last week, when she went back for Quinn only to get left with an ungrateful drunk clown and more attention from Sionis than she’d ever wanted.

There was something about the kid, though, that she couldn’t ignore. Maybe it was the way she reminded her of herself at that age, a little angry and a little stuck, or maybe it was her Mom’s lingering hold on her, but when she watched her get driven away, diamond in tow, she knew she couldn’t leave it alone. Bad things happened to innocent people, but Cass didn’t deserve to suffer under the hand of Roman Sionis. Fuck self-preservation — she’d put up with whatever trouble came her way to make sure Cass didn’t become another name on a list that was already too long for Dinah’s liking.

Which was how she found herself in this god-forsaken circus, with Montoya and Harley fucking Quinn and some wanna-be vigilante with a crossbow. It was exactly the kind of situation she’d spent years trying to avoid, but Cass was waving a gun around, and she knew how they’d found her, knew who’d sold her out. When she grabbed it from her, when she aimed it toward Quinn, she wasn’t thinking about anything other than keeping her safe. She kept one eye on Harley and the other on Cass, half listening to whatever nonsense the others were rambling about, and that was enough until—

“Helena Bertinelli.”

She’d never been shot, but Dinah imagined it felt something like this. Sharp pain in her chest, sucking the air and life out of her, the world suddenly moving in slow motion while her heart raced faster than it should ever be able to. She turned, looked at the now unhooded assassin and saw both a stranger and a memory. The look in her eyes was unrecognizable, foreign in every sense of the word, but the rest of her face — she’d spent enough years dreaming about that face to know it, even after all this time. 

Dinah heard her detailing the men who’d killed her family, the men she’d hunted to return the favor. She couldn’t stop staring, looking in her eyes, searching for the girl she’d known. She watched the way they shifted when she declared she was done, resolve turning into panic, and the emotions may have been new but nobody else had ever told so much with just their eyes. It was that, more than the name, more than the explanation, that made her believe it. Blackbird, standing in front of her. Alive. Real. 

Cass’s voice took all of their attention away before Dinah could figure out what to do, what to say. They moved toward the window, saw the army waiting for them. Dinah wondered who she’d pissed off to curse her with a fate as cruel as this one, to give her the gift of a lifetime only to promise certain death before she could ask if she remembered the little girl with the swing and the guitar. 

Harley reminded them they didn’t have time for wallowing. She gave a speech Dinah knew they all needed to hear, Cass most of all, and then they were digging through a weapons chest, arming themselves with whatever they could find, wondering if it could possibly be enough.

For a moment everything was calm. Dinah looked over, saw Helena smearing black shit over her eyes. She wondered if this was it, the only chance they’d get, and her feet were moving before her mind had figured out what to say. Helena hardly paid her any attention, which might have made it easier, had her brain not chosen that moment to let genuine, irrelevant curiosity take over. “Hey, what’s up with this bow-and-arrow shtick?” 

“It’s not a fucking bow-and-arrow, it’s a crossbow, I’m not twelve.” 

The laugh came out before she could stop it. She’d only seen anger on her face once before, and to get it now, over something as simple as a name, was the cherry on top of the absolutely ridiculous scenario that life had thrown her into. The girl who’d refused to tell her who she was, who spent all summer using codenames chosen at random, now couldn’t stand her weapon being referred to as something she considered childlike. The girl who’d run away the first time Dinah raised her voice, who’d been shy and meek and scared, now snapped at a stranger as they prepared to storm into battle armed with baseball bats and roller skates. Nothing about this was funny, but its insanity was utterly and completely comical. So she laughed, until she looked up and caught her eyes for the first time.

It’s me, she wanted to say. I waited for you. I mourned you. I sang for you. Do you see me? She wanted to tell her, wanted to ask straight out. Time and cigarettes had left her voice sounding nothing like the one she would have known, and everything about herself felt different, but she wanted to ask anyway. More than that, she wanted her to say yes. She wanted her to remember. No matter what else came with it. 

At the last second, she bit her tongue. They were about to walk into what would probably be the fight of their lives, one that she honestly doubted they’d walk out of. The last thing she wanted was to become a distraction. To be the reason she lost her a second time. So she said nothing, waited until Harley came up to them and asked if they were ready, prepared herself to leave it at that. But as they walked by one another, the thought running through her mind slipped out without her permission. “You can yell all you want,” she whispered, her words an echo of a conversation she’d almost forgotten, “I’m not a coward. Nothing about you could ever scare me.”

Two seconds later, men crashed through the ceiling, and nothing else mattered but survival. She went down the slide, because of course there was a fucking slide. Helena took just long enough for worry to creep in, but before Dinah could climb right back up, they heard her yelling; an instant later, she slid down, kneeling on top of the man she was burying her knife into

She knew it should have disturbed her. If she was normal, it probably would have freaked her out, sent her running in the opposite direction, but all she could think about was how far they’d come from the kids who delicately wielded a pocket knife to carve letters into a piece of wood. Dinah watched her and felt impressed, proud at the girl who’d learned to stand up for herself. And the tiniest part of her felt grateful that maybe they were both broken in the same ways, the cartoon morals they’d once held onto similarly crafted and shaped into whatever it was they were acting on now. And damn if taking down a man in a carnival slide wasn’t cool. 

—

It should have been over when they walked out of the tunnel. 

The fight itself had been mostly a blur, panic and instinct taking over and not letting go until the last man went down. She didn’t know what she’d done, what the others had done, but she knew that they were all standing at the end of it. She wasn’t sure anything else mattered.

Dinah remembered staring at Helena as they made their way out of the building. There was so much she hadn’t noticed earlier. Like the purple in her top, deep and dark and almost blending in with the black around it. And how she still stood taller than her, all these years later. And the braid in her hair, small and only on one side. The tunnel was dim, the early morning sky still dark, and all she wanted to do was see Helena in the daylight. She wanted to know every part of her, exactly the way it was. 

The gunshots shattered her daydream. She watched Montoya go down, pulled her back as far as she could. She wanted to stay but Helena was alone up there, so she ran, grabbed the discarded gun on the floor and shot blindly into the ambush they’d walked right into. She watched Cass get dragged away, and the familiarity of it all threatened to leave her frozen in place. Another person, gone. Another loss she’d have to shelve among the rest. Someone else she was too helpless to save. 

Except there was Blackbird. Standing by her side, shooting into the crowd. Fighting for a kid she didn’t even know. Fighting for herself. Alive, after all this time. 

If it had been quieter, she may have heard the voice in her head yelling at her for letting her guard down. If it had been quieter, she may have recognized it. But noise this loud could only be silenced if it was overwhelmed, and she had been powerless for long enough. She’d made a promise, once, to use her powers to protect the people she loved. To protect Blackbird. And Dinah Lance didn’t break her promises.

She was already going through the motions when she heard it, words that could have come from any of them. “Canary, you know what you have to do.” Two quick breaths in. A third, deeper, slower, reaching down into her gut, until she could feel the power pulsing inside her, anxious for release after years of lying in wait. She let it build, remembered throwing out a last minute warning before running forward, out into the line of fire.

Intentionality. It had been her first lesson, the thing Mom said she’d always need if she wanted to use her powers. You have to mean it, she’d told her. You have to have something substantial behind it. A reason for using your power. It’s not a party trick — you have to feel something. She wasn’t sure she’d truly understood it until now. When Dinah opened her mouth, when she dug deep, it wasn’t just her power she found; it was pain. Years of it, piled on top of one another, buried underneath walls so thick she wasn’t sure she’d be strong enough to break them. She could feel the way her power intertwined with them, could feel it suffocating underneath the weight of everything she’d tried to ignore, all the suffering and guilt she’d tried to hide. It would hurt, letting it out. It would leave broken pieces behind that might never get put back together, but when she stood in front of Roman’s army, when she thought about Cass and Helena and Montoya and even Harley, she knew somehow that if she shattered, if she screamed until there was nothing left, someone would come to pick up the pieces. They wouldn’t let her break completely. They wouldn’t leave her alone. And she’d always known that any amount of pain would be worth saving the people she loved.

She took one last breath, and let it all out.

—

Dinah woke up to Montoya standing over her. She could see her mouth moving, but whatever she said wasn’t louder than the ringing in her ears. Or the pounding in her head. She’d seen Mom go through this all the time, but Dinah was out of practice. The last time she’d truly used her powers like this had been years ago, when Helena—

Helena. She tried to look around, but the entire world still felt like it was vibrating. Dinah squeezed her eyes shut, willed the feeling to pass. They didn’t have time for this. Helena needed her. Cass needed her. 

When she opened her eyes again, Montoya was still talking, eyes frantic and hair slightly disheveled but overall alright. “—your car,” Dinah finally heard her say. “Canary, where’s your car?”

Dinah reached up and pointed in the general direction she’d parked, not trusting her voice just yet. Montoya nodded, reached down and helped her up. “Bertinelli already went after Quinn,” she said, “but they’ll need help. We gotta go.”

As they stumbled over to her surprisingly unscathed car, as her head cleared and her vision steadied, Dinah thought about what Montoya had said. Helena’s last name, thrown out so casually. Like it didn’t mean anything. Like it wasn’t the secret she’d kept for years. Like it hadn’t been the reason for one of the worst days of her life. She said it like it was just a word, nothing more, and Dinah wondered if maybe she was right. If they’d given it more power than it had ever deserved. If everyone had.

“I’m driving,” Montoya told her, and Dinah bit back a protest, tossed her the keys and hopped in the passenger's seat. They found Helena along the way, a little battered and bruised but still standing, followed her on her bike all the way to the pier. As they ran toward the sounds of gunfire, past statues that stood in the shadows and floorboards that snapped underneath their feet, all she could think about was Cass. The universe couldn’t take from her when it had just given back. Not when she’d fought for it this time. Not when she’d finally done everything right.

Finding her and Harley, standing together, staring into the water that was too red even for Gotham’s standards, Dinah wondered if this was destiny. If everything before this had been lessons disguised as punishment, showing her what she had to do. Teaching her how to fight for what she wanted, for who she loved. Teaching her how to survive. And if maybe, now that it was over, she would finally get a chance to do something more. To live. She had no idea what that looked like, but for the first time in her life, she was excited to find out.

—

They didn’t talk in the restaurant. Not at first. Dinah couldn’t stop looking at her, as if she might disappear if she let her out of her sight, as if all of this might have only been some figment of her imagination. It felt fragile, somehow. Like one wrong move, one wrong word, could bring the whole fantasy crumbling around her. So she kept her thoughts to herself, tried not to think too hard about the fact that Helena seemed to let her eyes roam anywhere else, so long as they never landed on her own. 

The worry didn’t creep in until Harley stole her car. Helena laughed, the way she used to before, and suddenly she was nine years old again, sitting in the dirt by the beach, hidden behind the leaves and trees. That sound echoed throughout her happiest memories. She’d spent years calling on it, closing her eyes and going back when life became too much to handle. But what if she was the only one? What if her memory failed her, told her a story glossed over with time, one that looked much better than the truth? What if everything she thought she knew was wrong? Helena might not remember her at all. Or worse, she might not care. Dinah might be nothing more than a blip, a spot on a timeline that meant nothing in comparison to what came after it.

When Montoya stood up, when she handed Helena a business card and told them both to call her tomorrow, her heart started racing. It was just the two of them, the way it had always been, but they weren’t in Paradise anymore, and Dinah couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that this was the moment where everything changed. She’d spent years imagining something exactly like this, crazy and impossible scenarios where the people she loved came back to her, but imagining always let her control what happened. Now it was real life, and nothing was scarier than the fact that she had no idea what might come next. 

“So,” Dinah assumed she’d be the one to break the silence, but she wasn’t brave enough to come right out and ask. “I guess—“

“They called you Canary,” Helena said, her eyes in her lap and her hands fiddling with that toy car Cass had given her. “And your voice is magic.”

A million feelings hit her all at once. Relief, ecstasy, shock, awe. Fear, with its lingering grip, still refusing to let go. Comfort, fighting for a place at the table, made stronger when Dinah thought about what she’d said. Canary. It had always sounded right when it came from her. Like it was her own title, her own name, not one passed down by someone she’d never be able to live up to. It reminded her of how she’d felt that summer — like someone could finally see her, just her, just Dinah, and still like what they saw.

She nodded, before realizing Helena wasn’t looking at her. “That’s true.”

“I knew a girl who had magic,” Helena whispered. “I called her Canary, too.”

The very words she’d feared came so quickly she felt embarrassed at her own doubt. She should have known — everything had always been easier with her. “And I knew a girl who hated chess and didn’t know her favorite color. But I never called her Huntress.”

Helena looked up, the same awe and genuity in her eyes that Dinah found so incredibly familiar. “You know who I am?”

“There’s not enough makeup in the world that could hide you from me,” she said, and she felt herself smiling, tried to think of a time when she felt this happy and came up blank. “Hi, Blackbird.”

Had she not spent all morning staring at her eyes, desperately trying to catch her gaze, she may have missed it; instead, she saw the way tears threatened to make an appearance at the sound of her old nickname, just for a moment, before she blinked them back. Her face was a mosaic, and Dinah knew she could look at her for hours, searching for each individual emotion, memorizing every inch of what she thought she would never see again. 

Helena stared at her, mouth open, and Dinah could see the wheels turning, searching for the right thing to say, before she sighed and settled for, “Hi, Canary.”

“It’s been a while, huh?” 

“Yeah.” Helena shook her head. “I don’t understand. I never told you my name.”

“I heard your driver call you Helena on that last day. When you didn’t show, when I saw what happened in the news, it wasn’t too hard to put two and two together.” 

“They mentioned me in the news?”

Dinah thought about the bus ride, the black and white photo and the bloody socks. The boy in the puddle, the one who didn’t crawl out of an execution. The boy Helena had vowed to protect. “I saw a family photo,” she said, omitting details to still hold onto the truth. “Recognized you.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”

Helena didn’t say anything at first. Part of her wondered if she’d pushed too far, ruined everything already, and Dinah was seconds from handing out another apology when Helena finally spoke. “Do you remember the time I asked you about your dad? And what it was like to lose people?”

“Yeah.” The conversation came back in flashes. “You said you wanted to know what it was like. That you didn’t think you’d be good at it.”

She shrugged. “I was right.”

“Well, you can join the club, then.” The confused look on her face was so familiar, Dinah almost didn’t want to elaborate. “You think I handled losing you well? I almost destroyed Paradise. And after Mom?” She motioned around her. “I won’t bore you with the details, but this was probably the first good thing I’ve done since then.”

“You lost your Mom?” She sounded so sad, as if she’d known her. Dinah supposed in a way, maybe she had.

“Yeah. Years ago. She was doing this. The hero bullshit. The same kind of thing we talked about doing one day. Do you remember?”

“I remember everything.”

She didn’t know how to respond, how to tell her that their summer together had been the happiest time of her life, sandwiched in between the worst. That memories of them in Paradise, doing nothing but spending time together, had taunted her when she slept, reminding her of a time she could never go back to. That seeing her here, now, in the flesh, was everything she’d ever wanted, a dream somehow turned into reality. Remembering was an understatement. 

“Yeah,” she finally told her. “So do I.”

“I’m sorry,” Helena said. “For leaving. For not coming back.”

“Not like you had a choice.”

“But I promised.”

She blinked away the image of Helena looking back at her, pinkie held out, smile on her face. Minutes from a massacre. “Yeah. And I promised I’d keep you safe. So I guess we both dropped the ball.”

“You couldn’t have protected me. No one could.”

“I could have tried.”

Helena just looked at her. “We were kids. You were hardly tall enough to get on that swing. You really think you could have stood up to some of the most ruthless people in Gotham?”

Dinah shrugged. “You never know. Looks can be very deceiving. What I lacked in height, I made up for in confidence and pent-up aggression back then.” She thought she was joking, but the more she spoke, the more it felt like a confession. “If I had just learned how to use my powers a little faster, maybe I could have taken them. I could have saved you.”

“Or you could have died.” 

Dinah just shrugged. “Guess we’ll never know.”

They sat there for a minute, the silence comfortable and familiar, the way it used to be, until Helena said, “It really was impressive. Your voice. I always wondered what it would be like.”

“Oh, sure,” Dinah said with a smile. “It was real impressive the way I passed out in front of everyone. So graceful. So strong.”

“I thought it was beautiful,” Helena told her, and she was so serious, so genuine, that for a moment Dinah began to believe her. It was fascinating how quickly one sentence could challenge years of self-deprecation, of guilt and frustration and anger. Could make her question her own self-image. Could make her feel beautiful, if only for now.

“Yeah, well, you always saw me as better than I am. I guess some things never change.”

“Some things do.” She felt the shift, could hear it in her voice. Dinah didn’t want to think about the in-between, the time they spent apart. The tragedy of their own lives. It was easier to ignore it, to joke and deflect and laugh it all into oblivion.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “You definitely know how to use a knife now.”

She smiled, just barely, and Dinah took it as a win.

“You know what I mean,” she said. “We aren’t kids anymore. Everything is different.”

“Not everything,” Dinah said instinctively. “Not us.”

She knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say. Helena winced, as if the words were a slap across the face, as if she could feel them. As if they hurt her. As if Dinah hurt her. Her grip on that car tightened, and her eyes drifted away, looking for anything else. Anything but her. 

“I shouldn’t — I’ve gotta-“ she turned, stood up and walked out of the restaurant. Dinah swore to herself, threw some money on the table and ran after her. 

“Hey! Wait!” She kept going, kept her head down, but Dinah had let her walk away once before. She wasn’t letting it happen again. 

She caught her right as they turned into the alley where Helena’s bike was parked, hidden in the shadows of the buildings next to them. Dinah jogged an extra step, put her hand on her shoulder. “Blackbird, please—“

“I’m not her anymore.” She snapped, turned so quickly that for an instant they were face to face, inches of air keeping them from touching. They stood like that, neither of them moving, until Helena blinked, swallowed and stepped backward. “The girl you knew,” she added. “Blackbird. She died that day. She’s gone. I can’t get her back.”

Dinah knew she’d never find the right words, but she searched for them anyway. She wanted to lie, to tell her that everything would be okay. That they’d reached the easy part now, that all the suffering was over, that she was wrong and they could close their eyes and be the kids they used to be. But she’d promised to never lie to her. And Dinah Lance didn’t break her promises. 

“That makes two of us,” she settled for, before sticking her hand out into the new space between them. 

Helena just stared at it. “What are you doing?”

“Making an introduction. My name is Dinah Lance. Some people call me Canary. My voice is magic, my mother was a superhero, and my best friend in the world died when I was nine. If I’m being honest, I’m pretty sure I died with her.”

Helena didn’t move. She didn’t speak. But when she looked up, when their eyes met, Dinah didn’t see the hardened assassin or the little girl from the beach. She saw someone entirely different. Someone she desperately wanted to know.

Slowly, Helena took her hand. “My name is Helena,” she said. “Helena Bertinelli. Some people call me Huntress. My best friend used to call me Blackbird.” She hesitated, before adding, “And my favorite color is purple.”

Dinah smiled, watched as Helena’s face began to mirror her own. “Purple’s a good choice. It’s nice to meet you, Helena.” Saying her name, the one she’d practiced, the one she’d held onto for years in secret, came with the same level of anticipation as it had before. Like anything was possible now that she had it. 

Helena didn’t pull away, so neither did Dinah. They stood there, hand in hand. She could feel the callouses, the scars and rough edges that decorated her palm. It was a map, a timeline of everything she’d done, everywhere she’d been, and Dinah wanted nothing more than to know all of her stories. 

“I don’t know what happens next,” Helena said softly. 

“I think that’s up to us.”

“We could take up Renee’s offer. Wear the outfits, be the heroes.”

Dinah let go, only to hold her pinkie up in front of her. “I’m in if you are. We’re a team, remember?”

Helena smiled, reached for her, and suddenly there they were, miles from Paradise and years from childhood, pinkies wrapped around one another. “It might be fun. Doing something good. Helping other people.”

“I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“Plus, I don’t—um,” she dropped her pinkie, only to fiddle with the hair tie around her wrist. “I don’t really have anything else to do anymore. I’ve crossed every name off my list.”

Dinah had a million questions she wanted to ask about that, but it was early, and she was tired, and it dawned on her that they didn’t have to do everything today. She finally had the one thing she’d wanted more than anything else — time. 

“Yeah,” she said instead, “I’m pretty sure I’m out of a job now, so I’ve got some free time.” Helena looked confused, so she added, “I sang at Sionis’s club. But I don’t really see them staying in business much longer.”

“You were a singer?” Dinah didn’t know how she managed to sound both happy and sad when she asked, like she couldn’t decide how she felt about it. Like her own feelings were a contradiction. 

“Yeah. Most people didn’t really listen, though.”

Helena scoffed. “Then they’re stupid, or tasteless. Nobody sings like you do.”

She felt her entire body go warm, the same way she had all those years ago, when she’d brought the guitar into Paradise. “Yeah, well, I didn’t really care what they thought, anyway.”

“You didn’t?”

Dinah shook her head. “They weren’t you.”

“Oh.” She watched Helena look down, at her hands, at the ground, at anything else, but she couldn’t hide the smile, or the red on her cheeks. Watching her, all Dinah wanted to do was dig through her stuff, tune up her old guitar, and sing again. Not on a stage, not for a crowd, and not even for a paycheck. Just for her.

Helena looked back at her bike. “I’m not ready to leave yet.”

“Then don’t. Walk with me. It’s beautiful out.”

Dinah held out her hand. Helena stared at it for just a moment, before she took it, followed her out of the shade and back into the sunlight. Dinah finally got a chance to see her, to take everything in without any distractions. She saw her eyes, exactly as she remembered, dark and deep enough to drown in. She noticed the way her skin was littered with scars, new and old, small and dangerously large. But mostly, she noticed how even with her make-up almost entirely rubbed off and blood still decorating her body, Helena was still the most beautiful person she’d ever seen.

“Can I ask you something?” Helena said as they walked down the street. 

“Anything.”

“Is it still standing? Paradise?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure. I haven’t been back in years. But I have the swing. It fell off the ropes a while back, but the base is still good.”

Helena shrugged. “Maybe we can rebuild it.”

“Maybe,” she said, “but the best part of Paradise was never the swing, or the beach. It was being with you.”

Helena stopped walking. “Then I guess we're already there.”

“Yeah,” Dinah said, looking up at the girl next to her. The one who left. The one who came back. “I guess we are.”

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael in the Mainstream: Cats

Cats is perhaps Andrew Lloyd Webber’s most infamous works, and is a musical you’re either going to love or hate. It’s sort of a plotless parade of actors in wild cat makeup prancing about the stage and singing goofy songs inspired from old T.S. Eliot poems and just in general is absolutely weird. This, probably, is why I love it; it’s just a fun, campy, colorful flight of fancy where I can enjoy some nice singing and choreography and not need to think too hard about the plot because, really, there is none, and it’s part of the run. The 1998 video version of the musical in particular is delightful. Fun characters like Rum Tum Tugger and Mr. Mistoffelees are brought to glorious life and get the best songs in the show, and the other cats don’t slouch either,  especially considering Old Deuteronomy is Ken “Oogie Boogie” Page. It’s just a fun little video that makes it easy to see why people love this silly little show even to this day, and it’s the reason I now count myself among the fans of the musical.

You know what won’t make you a fan? The 2019 theatrical film.

This film is a travesty. It is an affront before the eyes of God. It is the cinematic equivalent of a public execution. Really, you’d eat up any hyperbolic statement I put here, but the truth of the matter is the film is just an excessively mediocre adaptation that falls flat on its face because the director just didn’t give a damn. This is the dude who made Les Mis, and he thought he could take a more grounded approach with Cats of all things as well. Between that stroke of brilliance and his shoddy, draconian treatment of the animators, I can’t say I’d feel particularly bad to see Tom Hooper’s career crash and burn thanks to this.

Oh, wait? Did you want me to pick on the animation? Oh sure, it’s bad. The cats look more like monkeys and the mice and roaches look abysmal, but what the hell did anyone expect when the animators were forced to rush everything and were crunching up to the day of the film’s release?! Those conditions are inhuman! It’s lucky the movie is even remotely watchable as it is!

If you really want me to pick on something, I’ll pick on the cast. They’re not all bad, of course – Jennifer Hudson is pretty solid as Grizabella, Taylor Swift is honestly pretty good as Bombalurina, Idris Elba is clearly having a ball as Macavity, and Steven McRae and Sir Ian McKellan manage to steal the show for one scene each as Skimbleshanks and Gus, respectively. But unfortunately, the ones that do suck manage to suck extra hard. The standout in how absolutely awful is, unsurprisingly, Rebel Wilson as Jennyanydots. Let’s ignore for a fact she’s to blame for the nightmarish scene with the roaches and mice. Let’s even set aside how absolutely awful Wilson is as an actress. They took a fun little character like Jennyanydots and turned her into a rude, obnoxious waste of space who is relentlessly unfunny. This is really a running theme with all the worst cats; they manage to take what’s fun and joyful in the stage musical and turn it into something miserable and tacky.

Bustopher Jones fares pretty poorly. A guy who was already a whimsical fat joke is now turned into a relentless barrage of nonstop ones and is unfortunately portrayed by James Corden. The fun, swaggering rockstar that is Rum Tum Tugger gets portrayed by Jason Derulo mumbling his way through everything, meaning even with his musician swagger it’s not enough to redeem his take on RTT. But worst of all is what the movie does to the magical Mr. Mistoffelees. They took a character who in the show was a glorious, glittery, campy stage magician who reveled in his magical skills (“PRESTO!”) and who danced and zapped his way through the number in the 1998 stage show and turned him into a meek, timid little brat who looks like he’d be scared of his own shadow and who struggles with even the most basic of tricks. He looks like a Panic! At the Disco reject more than he looks like the magical cat who charmed me in the video of the 1998 musical version.

The fact that Hooper tried to shoehorn a plot into this is just… incredible. There’s the barest attempt made to string together the musical numbers with Victoria as sort of our audience surrogate and Macavity given a tiny bit more to do, but the end result eaves the plot even less comprehensible than before and makes everything in the movie feel awkward and contrived… which it already feels because everyone looks like a freakish hairball. The whole thing just gives off the sense it wasn’t made by anyone with a love or passion for the stage musical, and was instead churned out as a bitter, cynical product.

Frankly, I was hoping to like this far more than I did. Yeah, I’d definitely say this is so bad it’s good, but I can’t really muster up the usual enthusiasm since I saw the 1998 version and fell in love with it. I know what this movie could have been, I know how its characters should be, and it hurts to see most of them failing to live up to its potential. Yeah, a lot of the music is still good and there are fun characters here and there, but it just makes me sadder when the energy that Gus or Skimbleshanks bring to the film isn’t present throughout.

The brief moments that are good are starkly punctuated by the numerous moments where the film fails, and it really didn’t have to be this way. Giving the actors better costumes, the animators more time and breathing room, actually properly scaling the sets, paying any attention to detail at all, and maybe giving a damn about the musical they were adapting could have saved this film, but as it stands, this movie doesn’t really rise above a so bad it’s good curiosity, an absolutely astounding trainwreck.

Is this one of the worst movies of all time? I don’t think so. It’s sitting in the Bottom 100 on IMDB and even not liking it this film is still nowhere near as bad as something like, say, Artemis Fowl or The Love Guru. At its worst, it’s a disappointing mess, and at it’s best, it’s worth a cheap laugh or two. If you want to sate your curiosity, by all means, but just keep in mind what curiosity did to cats the last time.

[littlemissagrafina]

Thanks for the tag @wh0doyouthinkyouareiam

Rules: Bold the aesthetics you relate to and add twenty of your own aesthetic qualities for others to bold

(soft!) baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal | fun nails | rewatching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night |

(dark academia!) neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewelry | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story |

(edgy!) closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humor | accidentally very dramatic | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks |

(seventies!) colorful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | DIYing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding |

(preppy casual!) collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time | frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colorful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairy-lights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details

(@masterninjacow) rainy mornings | sweet steaming tea | cats’ purrs| daydreaming about fantasies | back hugs | glinting necklaces | loud video games | grumbling thunder | constantly chewing gum | wearing nothing but a t-shirt and underwear to bed | watching horror movies at night | nibbling on chocolates | talking to yourself | short hair | sad lofi music | messy sketches | sweet-scented body wash | spicy noodles at midnight | hating physical affection but craving it at the same time | ending all texts with lmao or rip

(@cherriigguk) | dried flowers | painting at 2 am in oversized sweater| up until sunrise | abundance of blankets and plushies | minimalistic colours | writing when you can’t sleep | warm banana bread on a winters day | stroking a sleepy dog | big eyeliner | butterfly clips | lo-fi hip hop | glossy lips and rose tinted cheeks | afternoon tea with old friends | oversized cardigans | herbal tea | dainty jewellery | self-care evenings | messy low bun or ponytails | dark hair | too many sketchbooks

(@bisoo) Fairy lights | Walking in the woods | night city | waves sound | drinking hot chocolate or tea during raining days | being wrapped in a blanket | polaroids | pastel stuff | mint tea | cats’ furr | baked brownies or cookies | French toast/pancakes for breakfast | drinking tea at 3 am with friends | café | doing braids on your friend’s hair | lots of plushies | doing old drawings again | boxes full of doodles | iced coffee

(@midnightlunaandinnerfangirl) having tons of plushies | wearing black | knitting | making your own clothes | napping in the sun | dancing in your bedroom | reading books in your bed | oversized hoodies | combat boots | flowy dresses | lots of piercings | wearing multiple rings on your fingers | gardening | ripped black jeans | chokers | wearing tights | oversized sweaters | black nail polish | holding babies | coffee

(@superherotiger) Posters on your bedroom walls | Marvel/Star Wars shirts | hot chocolate at night | platonic cuddling | family jewellery | ocean breeze | sand on your feet | reading books in the sunlight | stuffed toys | big jackets | black hair | playing games | night owl | clean and orderly | blues and greens | trinkets from travels | LEGO | unfinished sketch books | sunny days | starry nights

(@an-odd-idea) constant daydreaming | full notes app | studying maps | staying up late | meaningful jewelry | searching for music to match what you’re writing | loving deeply | always cold | cuddling cats | no makeup | long hair | camp t-shirts | songs on repeat | singing in the car | fuzzy blanket | chamomile tea | midnight snacks | summer nostalgia | bad at hugs but really wanting them anyway | holding hands |

(@jelly-pies) ink on your hands | doodling random quotes/song lyrics | t-shirts and denim shorts | keeping mints in your purse | lip balm | talking to inanimate objects | half-full journals | backpacks | fandom trinkets | flip-flops | board games | songs from original movie soundtracks | holding conversations with kids | fanarts saved to your phone | lying on the grass | floating on your back in the water | full hearty breakfasts | casual side-hugs | dozing off anywhere | fruit shakes |

(@imalivebecauseirondad) daydreaming | platonic hugs | staying up late reading fanfiction | casually telling people you love them | writing when you feel sad | going online when you can’t sleep | messy room | closet filled with all kinds of clothes | stressing about work but still procrastinating | cats | wanting an animal but knowing you can’t take care of one | taking photos of your friends/family at random moments unexpectedly | nostalgia fro something you don’t recognize | doodling in the margins of books | singing alone | karoake | video games | binging shows | comics | wishing for something impossible

(@dredfulhapiness) crowded libraries | naps | chronically cracked phone screen | CD collections | musical theater | Every Kurt Vonnegut book | bookends | patterned button-ups | magical realism | scream-singing Taylor Swift | winter nights | nails bit to the quick | jigsaw puzzles | black coffee | drive-in movie theaters | driving at night | thunderstorms | horror novels | owning multiple sets of dice

(@wh0doyouthinkyouareiam) unmade beds | soft blankets | iced coffee | lightning shows at night | hair tangled with sea salt | rain gear | red lipstick | gold hoop earrings | light summer dresses | messy embroidery | pressed flowers | leather notebooks | black gel pens | books in languages you can hardly understand | glasses slipping down your nose | painted toenails | smiling underneath a mask | foggy October mornings | sneaking out to go stargazing | mint-chocolate candy

(@littlemissagrafina) too many notebooks or sketchbooks | the smell of the ocean | sunsets in summer | painted nails | natural hair | too many WIPS in your docs | musical soundtracks | talking to friends until after midnight | fandom merchandise | high waisted jeans | coffee cups sitting empty next to you long after you finish them | fluffy socks | fairy lights | paint/ink/graphite stained fingers after art | the soft glow of candles | day dreaming | more than one piercing | unedited/unchecked writing | the still silence when the world is meant to be asleep but you're still awake | being open and affection with your friends |

I'll tag: @scooter3scooter @itstimeforachange01 @joyful-soul-collector @justt-ppeachy @canonismybitch @blondsak @vintervittran

[buckybarnesbingo]

As part of our Discord party, we took song recs!  Here are some excellent, Bucky-flavored tunes!

My Body Is a Cage - Arcade Fire  (@blurockets)

Control - Halsey  (@writing-mermaid)

Summer Rain - Belinda Carlisle  (@fightingforcreativity)

This song just screams Bucky's story before the whole hydra thing to me. he was happy, struggling with life but happy with his friend/love had plenty fun and survived. Then he is send out and he's still saying he'll be back but he doesn’t want to go. and he never came back in the end. Because the person coming back after is not Bucky from before anymore.

Behind Blue Eyes - The Who  (@polizwrites)

Take Me Home - Ryan Dolan  (LiquidLightz)

We Three (My Echo My Shadow And Me) - The Inkspots  (@blurockets)

An Oldie that you could go into thoughts of identity and how there are sort of three facets to Bucky. The Echo prewar and maybe during war, my shadow ws and Me and it's also just pretty.

In Chains - Shaman's Harvest  (@menatiera​)

Whole Again - Granian  (@27dragons)

This song is about recovering from trauma (and the pressure that well-meaning friends can put on you to recover faster without really helping, or maybe that's just my interpretation).

More under the cut!

In Case You Don't Live Forever - Ben Platt  (@aoifelaufeyson​)

The Becoming - Nine Inch Nails  (@blurockets)

It's part of the Downward Spiral and that whole Nine Inch Nails is a concept album following a guy that falls into a spiral of drugs and things that culminate into a breakdown and well death

Stand By You - Rachel Platten  (@writing-mermaid)

Losing Your Memory - Ryan Star  (@rebelmeg)

The whole song has strong post-Cap2 vibes.  But there’s one particular part that talks about Montauk in the winter, that makes me think of freshly un-Hydra’d Bucky visiting one of the beaches in NY that he remembers being at with Steve when they were kids, struggling to catch more wisps of memory while he stands there on the shore.

New York - Snow Patrol  (LiquidLightz)

Stucky feels... Bucky thinking of Steve

Older - Ben Platt  (@aoifelaufeyson​)

We'll Meet Again - Vera Lynn (@rebelmeg)

Another one with Bucky remembering, haunted by a song he knows he’s heard before, and all kinds of faces and voices in his mind that he can’t quite place.

I Am Machine - Three Days Grace  (@pherryt)

Kill Our Way To Heaven - Michl  (@tisfan)

Nightmare - Set It Off  (@menatiera​)

This another Bucky & Winter, just the angsty version where Bucky is terrified of his "monster" self and would very much like to run away from it but can't

Demons - Imagine Dragons  (LiquidLightz)

Through The Long Night - Billy Joel  (@polizwrites)

This has major Stucky feels for me

Lost n Paradise - Evanescence  (@lbibliophile-mcu​)

I Know Places - Taylor Swift  (@writing-mermaid)

Clearly it's about people trying to runaway from people that are chasing them. I started to write a story inspired by that song

Bad Guy - Billie Eilish  (@aoifelaufeyson​)

Hey You - Pink Floyd  (@blurockets)

Imagine like a weird hallucinatory sequence that ends with Bucky being thrown into cryo

Bee Gees - Stayin' Alive  (@phoenixgryphon)

well you can tell by the way I use my walk i'm a hydra man no time to talk

Breathe Me In - Jared and the Mill  (@pherryt)

Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd  (@polizwrites)

Pink Floyd song that gives me Bucky/Stucky feels

Cat People - David Bowie  (@phoenixgryphon)

See these tears so blue / An ageless heart that can never mend / These tears can never dry / A judgment made can never bend / See these eyes so red / Red like jungle burning bright / Those who feel me near / Pull the blinds and change their minds

In the Mood - Glenn Miller  (@phoenixgryphon​)

The Sun Will Rise - Kelly Clarkson  (@writing-mermaid)

She's my favorite singer and I wrote a story based on that song, I think this is a pretty optimist song that shows that even if something bad happened, the next day can be brighter and the light will chase the darkness.

Talk Dirty To Me - Jason Derulo ft. 2 Chainz  (@aoifelaufeyson​)

Coming Back to You  -  Jennifer Warnes via Leonard Cohen  (@polizwrites)

My first Stucky fic (Another Mile of Silence) was based on this song

Slip - Elliot Moss  (@blurockets)

The Unforgiven - Blakwall  (@psychiccatpanda​)

Bucky Nat where they are so close to something good but because of the nature of their wonky memories it doesn't quite happen.

A Monster Like Me - Mørland & Debrah Scarlett  (@writing-mermaid)

Another song that inspired me for a story. It's about someone that made horrible things when he was younger, telling his love one to go away because he's a monster.

Coney Island - Antje Duvekot  (LiquidLightz)

preWar Bucky, Stucky feels

Dancing Queen - Abba  (@phoenixgryphon​)

Sleeping Sickness - City and Colour  (@blurockets)

Post WS Stucky Especially with that movies theme of things breaking down.

I've become / A simple souvenir of someone's kill / And like the sea / I'm constantly changing from calm to ill / Madness fills my heart and soul as if the great divide could swallow me whole / oh how I'm breaking down

Song of Bernadette - Leonard Cohen, cover by Jennifer Warnes  (@polizwrites) 

a WinterIron song for me — tho I ended up using a line from it for a   Tony/Bruce fic.

Sugar, Sugar - The Archies  (@phoenixgryphon​)

Believer - Imagine Dragons  (LiquidLightz)

recovering WS Bucky

Dark Side - Kelly Clarkson  (@writing-mermaid)

When We Were Young - Adele  (LiquidLightz)

Bucky recovering , Stucky feels

Next To Me - Imagine Dragons  (@writing-mermaid)

Nightmare - Set It Off  (@menatiera​)

This another Bucky & Winter, just the angsty version where Bucky is terrified of his "monster" self and would very much like to run away from it but can't

The Phoenix - Fall Out Boy  (LiquidLightz)

angry anti-Hydra WS Bucky

Animal - The Cab  (LiquidLightz)

sexy WS

Dyin' Ain't So Bad - Bonnie and Clyde (Original Broadway Cast Recording)  (@book-dragon-13)

Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy - The Andrews Sisters  (@rebelmeg)

This one just screams Bucky!  Especially the part about the Cap going out and grabbing him a band!

Behind Blue Eyes - L'Orchestra Cinematique  (@menatiera)

Firework - Katy Perry  (@phoenixgryphon)

Ghost Story - Charming Disaster  (@blurockets)

stucky imagine an iw war au where after the snap everyone snapped is a dimension off only the slightest bit so it feels like people in a shares space are haunting each other

Lone Digger - Caravan Palace  (@ibelieveinturtles)

Shadow on the Wall - Mike Oldfield  (@fightingforcreativity​)

for over 70 years Bucky has been nothing but a weapon, a toy, a shadow of himself. something like that leaves traces and that sometimes you don't feel like much of anything anymore. So when he starts to remember, starts to have flashes of what he did and he has this one person standing up for him, tearing the world apart for him, he tethers himself to them like their shadow on the wall. Building his own prison, the prison which follows the person helping him whoever that is

A Bad Dream - Keane  (@menatiera​)

Secret - Heart  (@fightingforcreativity​)

this is a winteriron or pre war stucky song for me. Because Bucky no matter which pairing I look at in that situation feels like they can't be out. stucky: because of the homophobia back then 

WinterIron: because they're supposed to be enemies sort of and Tony and Steve are standing at two different sides of the line, the line to which end Bucky had sworn to follow steve

Deliverance - The Mission U.K.  (@ibelieveinturtles​)

Most of what I have for Bucky is specific to fics I'm writing but I think this is a good one too

Red - Nightcore male version, original from Beth Crowley  (@menatiera​)

this is my post-WS angry Bucky to-go song

All Along The Watchtower, Bear McCreary (Battlestar Galactica version)  (@ibelieveinturtles​)

this one is from a dragon!Bucky fic I'm determined to finish one day...

Bring Me To Life - Evanescence  (@psychiccatpanda​ and @lbibliophile-mcu​)

Holding Out For A Hero - Bonnie Tyler  (@ibelieveinturtles​)

Hollow - Icon For Hire  (@fightingforcreativity​)

This is kinda self-explanatory considering that the song is about mental health

Not alone - RED  (@menatiera​)

this is kind of the song I often base my Bucky & Winter relationship to each other, how they worked through hell to keep each other alive and how they relied on each other. Mostly this is Bucky reassuring Winter and keeping him, well, human, by being there for him in his head.

Whisper - Evanescence  @lbibliophile-mcu

Memories - Within Temptation  (@fightingforcreativity​)

A song about memories, keeping ghosts alive and yet not really

On Every Street - Dire Straits  (@dreaminglypeach​)

More Steve looking for Bucky post WS, but still. 

 three cord symphony crashes into space / the moon is hanging upside down / don’t know why it is I’m still on the case / it’s a ravenous town / you still refuse to be traced / seems to me such a waste / and every victory has a taste that’s bittersweet / and it’s your face I’m looking for on every street

Chlorine - Twenty One Pilots  (@aoifelaufeyson​)

It’s My Life - Bon Jovi  (LiquidLightz)

[lovemesomesurveys]

[created by: vyvyan86]

What's the next really important thing you have to do? Nothing at the moment.

Are you looking forward to anything? No.

If you could study anything at any school, where and what would you study? I majored in and got my BA in psych. I don’t want to do anymore schooling.

What was the last essay you remember writing about? Something for a psych class. 

Remember which movie the line, "We are the weirdos, mister", is from? Hm. No, it doesn’t ring any bells. I had to Google it and it’s a movie I haven’t seen, so. 

Do you wear lipstick often? Not at all. I haven’t worn any makeup for the past few years, but even when I did wear makeup regularly I rarely wore lipstick.

Do you prefer pants or skirts? Why? Pants out of the two cause that’s what I like and feel comfortable in, but I prefer leggings overall. I live in leggings. How late is too late for coffee for you? I drink it before it bed. *shrug* It doesn’t keep me up any later. My sleep schedule is a mess regardless. Are you more of a girly girl or a tomboy? Neither, really. I wear leggings and graphic tees, so whatever style that is.

In your dream kitchen, would the worktops be marble or steel? Marble countertops are gorgeous.

What's the best cake you've ever baked? I’m not a great baker at all. I can make a cake from a box and it comes out fine, but I don’t do anything from scratch. 

Have you ever tasted black/salted licorice? Unpopular opinion, but I love black licorice. 

Have you ever cross stitched anything? If so, what? Nope.

You're going on a date with someone you like. What would you like to do? I’m cool with something chill like getting food and then going to a coffee shop or browsing around a bookstore or something.

You äre hanging out with your best friend. What would you like to do? My mom and I enjoy watching our favorite shows together. 

Have you ever written or considered writing a play? No.

How about a novel? If so, could you give us the synopsis of the plot? I’ve had thoughts about writing one, but not entirely sure about what. I’d also have to find the inspiration, motivation, and energy to do so. If only I could do something like that given all this time I’ve had the past few years doing absolutely nothing. At least then I could say I did something productive. 

Who is considered the "black sheep" of your family? Why? I feel like that sometimes just because I feel different in a lot of ways and like the odd one out. 

Why is your favorite movie your favorite movie? I have several favorites. 

Don't you wish there were more new surveys? It amazes me that I’m still able to come across as many as I do still after the many, many years of doing surveys. I hope to keep finding surveys to do cause apparently I’m not stopping anytime soon. It’s weird to imagine a time where I no longer do surveys. 

Have you ever hosted a kids' birthday party? Nooo. That sounds like a nightmare. 

What's a color you hate? Brown or gray. They’re like poop and...blah. <<< lol “they’re like poop and blah.” 

What's an odor you hate? Old food, garbage, shit...

What's a sound you hate? Eating sounds. 

If money was no issue, what would you like to do right now? Nothing at this exact moment cause it’s 1:30 in the morning, but I’d love to be able to buy a bigger house for my family and I and fully furnish it.

What's something you're so good at that you take pride in your skill? Nothing. :/

Is anything exciting or special happening in exactly three weeks from now? Nope.

What's something you'd never ever dare to ask another person? Anything too personal or something they clearly weren’t comfortable talking about.

What's something you've always wanted to ask someone but haven't dared? Hmm.

What is a song you cannot stand? I’m not a Taylor Swift fan. 

What is the tastiest alcoholic beverage? None.

What's the worst/best thing you've done without your parents knowing? It’s really not bad and I was an adult when I did it, but they don’t know I’ve smoked weed and had edibles. 

If you wear earrings, what does your favorite pair look like? I haven’t worn earrings in awhile.

Have you ever won any money from a scratch card? Yes.

How about a slot machine? Yeah. I didn’t win big at all, but still it was cool to win anything.

Do like playing bingo? Sure.

What's been the best thing you've found at a flea market? I don’t go to flea markets.

Have you ever eaten anything sweetened with xylitol? If so, what? Yeah. Trident gum comes to mind first.

If you could have any color lights in your house, which would you choose? I’m good with the typical color lights for lamps and whatnot around the house, but I love having strings of multicolor mini lights in my room.

Do you ever glance at people's butts? It happens sometimes since as someone in a wheelchair I’m at butt level a lot of the time lol.

What's something that catches your eye about other people? Various things.

What's a random funny scene from a movie that has stuck with you? A lot of funny and quotable scenes from Bridesmaids. 

What's the nicest thing that's happened in the past few days? My mom bought me a cute giraffe stuffed animal and a Starbucks gift card for Valentine’s Day.

What has been the best birthday you've had so far? I haven’t had a bad one, but childhood birthdays and a few others stick out.

What small, everyday thing makes you really happy? I always look forward to and enjoy having my first cup of coffee.

[thisselflovecamebacktome]

My personal connection with Taylor’s discography, part five: Marjorie

Basically this is just a series I’m doing where I write down my feelings on what each of the Taylor songs means to me personally on a line to line basis both for my own sake to have it somewhere and for anyone who wants to know anything further about me. So with that in mind, let’s get started.

Marjorie

This song is a little weird for me because as a whole, it’s about losing the almost romanticised view I had of my family. Like most of the people I think of when it comes to this song are still very much alive, but our relationship reached a point where I will never speak to them again. But despite our relationship being like that now, much like most kids, I grew up thinking these people were near perfect and those memories don’t go away just because I’m not on good terms with them now. Because of that, this song has been a very bittersweet song for me and one of the harder Taylor songs to listen to.

Never be so kind, you forget to be clever

When I was younger, I was one of those kids who never wanted to see anyone hurt and would give up if it meant someone else was happy. And that cost me a lot of opportunities. And a remember each time I’d do it, my mother and paternal grandparents would sit me down and remind me that I am a female and that the world is harsh and doesn’t give us as a gender many chances, so I shouldn’t be throwing away chances like that, especially to people who were more likely to achieve those goals through different means. I particularly remember having one of these talks in the third grade when I asked the teacher to allow my competitor in a maths competition to have a second try when he got an answer wrong only for him to quickly declare victory when I messed up a question later. Let it be known that I will never again forget that 7x8 is 56 and that even if I still have issues with it, I do not need to make things harder for myself by giving a leg up to people who would keep me down given the chance.

Never be so clever, you forget to be kind

As much as I tried to be nice as a kid, I definitely grew up with some privileges and a bit of a god complex when it came to my academic skill. Cringily, up until like 9th grade I was that kid that gloated about their grades and was like “well if you just tried harder, you’d get these grades too!”. I was particularly like this with my sister given my parents spent our childhood pinning us against each other and that was the only “win” I could take, especially in terms of my mother. Except it really wasn’t because my mother was also someone who hated school and didn’t do well through no fault of her own. As a result, “You’re smart Jessica, but there’s always going to be someone smarter and nobody is going to care how good you are if you can’t be nice” was a common phrase I heard as a kid. Whether or not it’s true is yet to be seen given some of the biggest names in the world are assholes, but I’ve definitely come to a place where kindness will always outclass cleverness in my life.

And if I didn't know better, I'd think you were talking to me now

When I have a hard decision to make or I feel like I’m making the wrong choice, I still imagine these idealised versions of my family were still in my life and talk myself into what I think is the next right move. Is talking to yourself still counted as being crazy? Perhaps, but it works and is weirdly comforting given everything that’s happened.

If I didn't know better, I'd think you were still around. What died didn't stay dead. You're alive, you're alive in my head, so alive

Despite everything that happened, my anger towards it, and the way I’ve tried to put it out of mine, I still look back fondly on these memories with these people before they showed who they actually were.

Never be so polite, you forget your power

Like I said, as a kid I hated inconveniencing anyone. This meant I ate a bunch of food I hated, did activities I didn’t want to and even went out while sick because I didn’t want to ruin the day for anyone else. In particular, I remember getting a big stomach ache while on holiday at my paternal grandparents’ house but still trying to get ready and go out to the beach for the day. When he immediately realised something was wrong was told that I hadn’t said anything because I didn’t want to ruin the day, he sat me down and reminded me that it was my holiday too and that was my body so I could and should take control of that and say no sometimes, even if it is just because I don’t want to do something.

Never wield such power, you forget to be polite

For all their flaws, my mother’s side of the family did teach one one thing. I came from nothing, and even if someday I broke the poverty cycle, I was not above anyone else. A lot of conversations with that side of the family was about how oftentimes it was “higher class” people who refused to tip or use manners and felt above it all. Also, when I was a smartass about my grades and jobs I wanted to get, I was reminded that even if I had the best paying job in the world, I would still need the “lesser” workers in order for my life to run smoothly. While the words “class struggle” never came into play, these conversations very much helped to form a lot of my beliefs and remind me to stay humble.

And if I didn't know better, I'd think you were listening to me now

When someone dies, a lot of people believe they send signs from beyond the grave. Sometimes these happen in the form of seeing associated animals on a bad day, sometimes it’s a random thing coming to you and pushing in a certain direction when needing to make a choice. And there are days when it feels the same with my family even though most of them are still alive. 

But most of all, I think about this line in reference to my uncle who passed when I was 12 who always had mine and my mother’s backs. I remember driving home from my partner’s place during a depressive episode a few years back thinking about how my grandparents live in the same suburb and considering dropping past even though I had cut them off years before to have not only roadworks happen to be happening in a way to make me go past their street, but also their light being off implying they weren’t there. And despite not being a spiritual/religious person anymore, something about that felt very much like my uncle had heard me and was making it clear that his parents were out living their lives and I was making the right choice by doing the same.

The autumn chill that wakes me up. You loved the amber skies so much. Long limbs and frozen swims. You'd always go past where our feet could touch

This line screams my sister to me. The best thing about my sister and the thing that I will spend forever missing is how she got so excited about the little things in life. Doing her makeup or wearing nice clothes was exciting, listening to music was exciting, getting up early on special days to open gifts was exciting, hell even going to a concert for an artist she hated was exciting for her. She was also the biggest risk taker of the family. And given her auburn hair, the autumn/amber visuals just caps the whole thing off.

And I complained the whole way there; the car ride back and up the stairs

I was a whiny and impatient kid (who somehow turned into a more impatient adult, yikes). Looking back, I spent so many occasions with my family whining about little things or asking how long it’s going to take instead of just enjoying the moment. And ultimately, I think that’s one of my biggest regrets in life so far.

I should've asked you questions. I should've asked you how to be, asked you to write it down for me

Like most people, I really underestimated how much time I was going to have with my family and I took for granted the notion that there was always going to be a time that they’d be around to help and get advice from. So I never asked. And now I’m here, 25 and feeling incredibly unequipped for handling the world around me like I should and wishing I had taken those opportunities to ask for more advice. Likewise, while people make jokes that white people have no culture, I genuinely really feel like I don’t (and as a result struggle with my place in the world) because I didn’t bother asking about our history or the family members I never met or any of that and don’t have anything in my possession to give me that information.

Should've kept every grocery store receipt 'cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

Kinda continuing from above, I hated taking photos and really didn’t keep much that my family gave me growing up. Like realistically when it comes to the extended family, I have a few really low quality photos, a piece of art my paternal grandfather gave me before moving to the UK because I loved it as a kid and my memories. And even with my sister and father, I have a single box of things my sister left behind and one Taylor Swift fan book and a necklace my father gave me. That’s it. 

I don’t have any family heirlooms, I don’t even think I have one picture of me with most the members of the family and I don’t even have the loving perception of them because that was taken from me in the fallout of the family. And despite everything that happened, that upsets me whenever I think about it.

Watched as you signed your name Marjorie. All your closets of backlogged dreams and how you left them all to me

To be honest, this line just reminds me of the women in my family and how much they sacrificed in order for me to get where I am today. Like both my grandmothers never finished school (with my maternal grandmother being unable to read) in order to get jobs to look after their families after both fathers abandoned them before marrying into abusive relationships. My mother quit her higher paying job to raise me and my siblings full time because my father had epilepsy and couldn’t. And my mother started working again in my teens in the form of cleaning the dirtiest of houses so I could go to Japan which was one of the happiest memories of my life. She also mentioned she wished I could have been a performer because she had always wanted to be. None of these women got to experience their dreams or even the lives they should have had all to make sure I had the best chance of living mine and again, no matter what happens, that will always be something I remember.

And if I didn't know better, I'd think you were singing to me now

Again, this line just screams my sister. Any time I hear one of her old favourite songs or a top ten hit I think she’d like, especially if it comes on shuffle or out in public, I think of her.

I know better, but I still feel you all around. I know better, but you're still around

Obviously I know these people are not talking to me. They’ve moved on with their lives and outside the moments where they feel the need to try PR the situation to keep me quiet, I imagine they don’t really think of me at all. Additionally, it’s hard to say that the idealistic versions of them I created in my head even existed to be around in the first place. And yet, I still feel their influence on me in my day to day life.

[jlf23tumble]

This one’s for @homosociallyyours and @silverfoxlouis, the former because she’s not going to listen and the latter because they’re listening as we speak! I saw a post earlier that low-key annoyed me because it either misrepresented today’s Stern interview or it skipped right over the fascinating bits, so here are the parts I enjoyed (I won’t waste my time on the shit I hated, lol):

Shrooms and the song-writing process are related to Harry’s anxiety about fucking shit up and needing to get out of his own head; related: coming from a band, if there's something you don't like, you can tell yourself that it wasn’t your choice.

The Rob Stringer talk made me SIDE EYE w/r/t the delay, like, okay, you’re a label boss who’s gonna drop a ton of money, but you’re cool with telling the artist to just relax and take all the time they need, you’ll just pick up the thread when hs2 is completely finished, lolz (I have my own theories about allllll of that, but okay!).

I love Stevie and her coven of nocturnal witches, too, but tell me more about how she hated Harry’s choice of first single (in my heart, she wanted “Golden”) and the song that she thought should have been on the album but isn’t, god, she’s such a yoda, and this entire bit was so much bigger than the coven.

I live in Harry’s soft, breathy “thank you” whenever Howard praises SOTT.

I feel like all the White Eskimo talk is a fic waiting to happen, the whole battle of the bands and them winning studio time and how Harry talks to maybe one of them and there’s a guy who IS STILL IN WHITE ESKIMO I GUESS???? WHAT?

Howard Stern hatesssssssssssss Simon Cowell, so his attempts to get Harry to talk shit were both wonderful and expertly dodged, lmao. 

My only positive comment about the discussion around Harry “putting on some timber” during his bakery (cashier at a baker) years was how much it echoed Louis’s comment about “having extra timber” during one of his recent BTS specials.

Were the guys in One Direction REALLY saying that Matt Cardle was “so fucking good” back in the day? This junior statesman!

Ralph pointed this out when we were talking about the interview, but a lot of the time, Howard just makes statements (as per usual), and Harry says, “Right,” which is a great response because it isn’t really an answer, yet it’s still participatory.

Howard is obsessed with coronavirus, so it was hella interesting to hear Harry’s thoughts about it affecting his tour, when his tour is still so far away (yet another tour is so much closer and in the direct line of fire).

Howard (like me) was pleased that Harry’s band is a mix of women and men and not just dudes (I should take a drink every time Bowie is mentioned, like around Harry’s clothes, how Harry is starting his tour in Philadelphia, the entirety of that convo making me want to see Harry’s face as much as all the xarries want to).

One of the things I hated seeing earlier today was this notion that Howard “forced” Harry to talk about the robbery because he absolutely did not, Harry went into CRAZY levels of detail about it when Howard asked, “When did this happen to you?” (and the way Harry talked about it wasn’t full of trauma or sadness, it bordered on humorous in spots but still serious; it clearly shook him up, but he wasn’t about to let it change his life of feeling free to walk around at night). 

I wanted to hear a lot more about all the musicians hanging out in the ‘70s and being competitive in terms of who was writing the best songs about a particular party vs. the competitiveness of banging out the best single today. Harry’s focus was that if you say you like a song, people think you should collaborate…if two musicians hang out, they're dating or recording (like with Adele, and case in point, Howard immediately asked if they were working on something).

I also loved the bit about acting and how nervous Harry used to be about EVERYTHING because he’s waiting three hours to do three minutes, and he focuses so much on his voice or hands shaking, but this last SNL really helped (in my heart, his “little tweaks” were on the Sara Lee sketch).

I live in the guffaw from Harry whenever Howard unexpectedly hit his funny bone (like Harry saying Anne gave him some money to buy clothes when he first moved to London, and Howard saying it was good return on investment for her, what with the house Harry eventually bought her, etc.).

I absolutely LOVED the entire bit about Ben Winston’s attic (and Ralph’s related takes on it), the fine line of the plausibility yet the doubling down; the word “cocaine” coming out of Harry’s mouth; the parts about dating and keeping your relationship normal/secret, etc., GOLD, ALL OF IT. 

Harry, like Phoenix Mendoza, writes every day, which is part of why he wasn’t really into giving up his phone to muggers because that’s his writing zone of choice for lyrics and poems (the whole robbery clapback here: “for the purposes of not getting mugged again, no, they’re on a different device”).

MITCH SPEAKS!! He was into his Nick Drake phase when Harry met him, but apparently everyone is into the open D (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) chord, so he was a shoe-in. Also, Harry met Adam in 2010??? I’d like more information.

We move back into 1D territory with Zayn’s departure, which is still shittily handled but somewhat more maturedly discussed, and yet another attempt to get Harry to talk shit about Simon, which is getting us closer to what we want/need (Harry’s very real answer to Simon being pissed that Harry didn’t consult him about going solo: “I’m in a band since I was 16, there were five of us, we had a lot of managers, lots of people at the label, and all of these decisions affect your life in a massive way, every decision I made was a group call. I didn't know who I was as an adult,” and a lot of that is paraphrased in spite of the quote marks, but just know that I am screaming LIAM).

There’s a lot of weird downspeak to Sarah and Ny (Adam and Mitch were talked at earlier), but everyone’s very much into Sarah, and rightfully so. I loved the slip up where Howard is trying to figure out if there’s anything romantic going on between Harry and the female band members, and someone says, “Mitch!” so you can hear Howard process Harry and Mitch for a hot sec, cracking the Hitch dream, before we get clarification and Harry gleefully taking us into the story of their love. (Me as the speech Howard gives Sarah and Mitch about how dangerous it is to be in a band together and to have a relationship because if you fuck it up, it’ll be terrible.)

SLEDGEHAMMER NICE.

We get a bit into the “Adore You” video because Howard’s an animal softie, and he loves it (it’s downplayed, but Howard also mentions how fans have put a lot of “thoughts” into the fish), but then we get into talk about how this song is about the girl Harry’s banging (HIS SNICKER HERE) and how the common denominator in all of Harry’s failed relationships is him, huh. All of this relationship talk here makes me want to DIE with how much I love it.

Everyone focuses on the gross talk from Howard about Harry having a lady therapist (this is a long-standing Howard trope), but some good shit disappears between those cracks, like how Harry decided to go into therapy, how he’s keeping his LA therapist instead of having two in different countries, etc., and it’s actually Robin who asks Harry about seeming weak or vulnerable in front of a female therapist, but clearly, he’s not bothered.

I’m so interested in how the shrooms tongue-biting incident cured a speech impediment I wasn’t fully aware of but that is still so impossibly endearing.

Harry himself picks out his opening acts, which we already knew but is always nice to hear confirmed. 

The drug convo in text from earlier today makes it sound like he doesn’t smoke cigs, but to me, it seems like he doesn’t like to smoke weed (an edible king, relatable).

Harry says, “you’ve said it all,” which just makes me think he’s a long-time (or recent) Stern listener, because that’s what Howard says when he’s done/interview’s over.

We think it’s all done but the shouting, and then Robin gets into Harry’s clothing, which is where it gets dicey. Howard (of course) mentions that Bowie wore a skirt and how he himself did full drag on TV (“legs shaved and everything, you should see how gorgeous I am as a woman”), but Harry keeps it very much in the realm of what he wears is what he wears because it’s fun for him, he’s not wearing a school uniform or trying to look cool for his friends, he’s a lot more comfortable with himself: “At shows, I tell people to be who they want to be, I plan on telling my kids that, so I don’t want to be a hypocrite, I’m not wearing it for shock value.” 

Howard says people will assume he’s gay or bi (like Bowie, YEAH, SIGH), but Harry says it’s not performative. This whole bit is fascinating on so many levels, he touches (without saying) on the entire queer-baiting issue, and it’s cringe-y, with Howard saying “I’m not criticizing, wear what you want, I’m a big mess, etc.”

Anyway, they pivot out of that with Howard moving beyond into asking Harry who he wants to badmouth: “Simon?” Harry: “This has been great!” and this entire bit about how Howard wants to know if Harry considers Simon a friend, and Harry saying he doesn’t talk to him gives me life. There’s a lot of gross talk about who Harry has his eye on for his next girlfriend, but I will tell you that I never in my life expected to hear the words SUSAN BOYLE thrown into this convo. 

The interview closes out with Harry getting progressively more silent about the women he should date, saying that he doesn’t talk in interviews about his love life, he talks in music (oh?????), so Taylor Swift comes up, and Harry says it’s flattering to think you’re in a Taylor song because she’s such a great songwriter, which, true, I guess?

Harry hasn’t used a dating app (duh), but Howard thinks he should create one, and…scene.