#taylor swift is really good to get motivated apparently

[wwinterwitch]

high infidelity — jack russell

summary: the heir of ulysses bloodstone has fallen for a monster pairing: jack russell x fem!bloodstone!reader word count: 3k tags: song fic, cheating, arranged marriage, family trauma, angst and fluff, happy ending (let me know if anything else should be added!) note: inspiration came from high infidelity by taylor swift, hence the name of this fic!

a reblog and/or comment really helps me out as a content creator so thank you in advance if you take the time to do either!

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You were miserable. Having to live in a mansion all by yourself, surrounded only by employers and your horrible stepmother. Forced to be a hunter because it was expected of you from the moment you were born.

As the daughter of Ulysses Bloodstone, you had to aspire to perfection. Nothing you ever accomplished seemed to be good enough, so you always had to just do better. From a very young age, you were reminded that no accomplishment will ever be enough.

There was no escape from your inevitable destiny. It doesn't matter if you want this life or not. You had to become a hunter and you must live up to your name. Had to make your father proud. Had to prove you're truly worthy of your birthright.

And you did, especially after your older sister fled and it was only you to continue the legacy. The entire pressure on your shoulders.

Maybe you should've escaped like she did. You'd be so much happier anywhere but here, but for some reason you stayed. Motivated by the ridiculous sense of responsibility, the love you had for your father despite his many flaws, or because this life is all you've ever known...you never knew what made you stay, but you did. And now you're doomed.

No one around you is in your team. Your father is far too worried about other stuff to really care about you. Your stepmother only sees you as some sort of toy or tool, so you only ever exist when she needs something from you. Other hunters expect your downfall so they can take your place. Your sister left you behind and never tried to contact you. It's been you against the world all your life.

You found some hope and comfort, as twisted as it might sound, in the news your father shared with you over dinner just a few months before he passed away: someone was interested in asking for your hand in marriage.

Of course you hated the idea of an arranged marriage, but maybe whoever was asking to marry you could become a true partner, someone to really be there for you. It wasn't ideal, but at least you'll stop feeling alone. After years of feeling like no one was truly there, you were practically begging for someone to show the slightest interest in you. As bad as it sounds, you were just desperately trying to clung onto anyone willing to hold you.

Once again, you were met with disappointment. The only sentiment you're allowed to feel in this life, apparently.

You had to meet your soon-to-be husband at a very awkward dinner. He was very handsome and a skillful hunter, and he looked genuinely interested in you from the moment he laid eyes on you, but it was clear to you that his interest existed for all the wrong reasons. From the very first exchange, you knew that he only cares about your last name.

Still, you tried to make it work. Maybe he can be a decent partner. Maybe he changes and genuinely falls in love with you when he gets to know you. Maybe it won't be that bad.

But that mindset didn't last very long, because things are entirely different now. You can't marry him and you can't stand the idea of having to spend every single day with him. To wake up next to him, to have a family with him, to pretend you're content with your life. You don’t want to try to be okay with any of this anymore.

It's impossible to give him a chance when your heart already belongs to someone else.

Before your engagement was announced, you had the pleasure of crossing paths with Jack Russell. He attended a meeting at the mansion and you happened to meet him there. The two of you talked almost all night, exchanging glances and quick smiles whenever you weren't directly interacting.

That's how it started. That's how you met the most wonderful man in the entire world. The most caring, loving, compassionate and dedicated man. He was captivated by you the second he met you, and you finally felt like someone sees you for who you are. He was interested in you for all the right reasons, and there was no way of staying away from each other after that night.

The feeling of being around him was intoxicating. To finally discover someone who genuinely cares. It was like you were living in this terrible world where everything was dark and lacked meaning, and he was the one who brought light to even the darkest of corners.

Every second away from him was absolute torture, but since no one in your life seemed to care enough to keep track on you, it was easy to sneak behind everyone’s back and be with him. That would explain why neither of you are currently in the big hall with the rest of the hunters that your stepmother invited.

You excused yourself to go upstairs to your bedroom claiming you weren't feeling good. Not so long after, Jack casually had to answer a very important phone call that forced him to leave the room as well. Truth is, he was also making his way upstairs to your bedroom.

And right now, with his lips pressed to yours and your hands tangled in his hair, life just makes sense. It's like you're not even there until he's around. Only he has the power to make you feel like this. Like he's bringing you back to life from the torture that is being the heir of Ulysses Bloodstone.

Jack didn't care about anything that had to do with your family. His love and admiration for you is so much deeper than that. Your team of one was finally welcoming a new member that you wanted to keep next to you forever.

But even when things with Jack were incredible, you often found yourself still feeling miserable because you really want things to be different. It's him the one you want to spend the rest of your life with. You want to be the one he looks for in a crowded room. You want to be the one he holds close at night. You want to be his reason why life's worth living.

You don't want to be a leader, or a hunter, or an heir. Jack was able to change your entire perspective when it came to hunting, showing you just how mistaken you were about 'monsters'. Now, the mere idea of hunting makes you sick to your stomach.

Needless to say, it was quite a shock to find out you had fallen for a werewolf. It was almost ironic, in fact. He trusted you with his secret almost immediately, wanting you to know all there is about him from the start. The fact that he immediately trusted a secret like that to a Bloodstone proved just how much he didn't care about your upbringing. He knew you were one of the good ones, that was unlucky enough to be surrounded by bad guys, forced to learn to behave like one because that's all you knew. Evidently, you never broke that trust and you kept his secret.

Still, it was a very big confession that he just threw your way barely fazed by the caliber of his words. Only when he noticed your expression, he looked worried– scared, even. He'd always get insecure about this side of him, so he immediately feared you were going to push him away.

"I'm sorry, I–" Jack tried, hoping to be able to reason with you. "I just did what I thought was right. I don't want secrets between us."

"I...I just don't understand. Aren't you a hunter?" was all you had to say. "I mean, how is that possible?"

"Was my acting that good?" he tried to joke, just to make the situation less awkward. "I'm not a hunter. Never was, never will be."

It was very strange at first. You never saw it coming, though you appreciated the fact that he was so open about it and willing to tell you right away despite the dangers that came with it.

And you could practically hear the cries of horror coming from your family because you didn't try to kill him the second he revealed he's a werewolf. Your father was probably rolling in his grave because his successor is fraternizing with the enemy (and doing a lot more than just basic cordiality). They'd probably kill you too if they ever find out about this.

Not like you care much about consequences, anyway. Not when you have Jack by your side. Nothing else matters compared to him. And if anyone tries to hurt him, you'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe.

You were extremely grateful that he was there to show you an entirely new perspective. He introduced you to many of his friends, all of them much friendlier than all the hunters you've met (a statement that definitely includes your family too). Your eyes were open to a new reality and it made you realize the true monsters are the ones staring back at you every single day. Your fiancée, your stepmother, the large portrait of your father staring down at you from above the large fireplace in the living room.

But worst of all was realizing that there was also a monster staring back at you whenever you were standing in front of the mirror.

"This is horrible," you had commented once. It was only you and Jack walking across the forest. The two of you just visited a few of Jack's friends. that were attacked by hunters a few days ago and decided to hide for a little while. "They're trying to live their lives and we're out here hunting them just because we feel like it? Because someone said they're dangerous and we just ran with it? It's not fair."

"You're not like the others," he reminded you. "Even they can tell."

"Yeah, but I used to be," you sighed, wishing you could just turn back time. "I did a lot of things I'm not proud of, Jack. Things you'd hate me for, and you have all the right to."

Jack forced you to stop walking, gently grabbing your hand to turn you around so you could look at him. His eyes were as soft as ever as he stared back at you. "You have the kindest heart I've ever known, mi amor. It was you who told me not to let my killings define me because I don't know any better, and right now I think you should listen to your own words," he finished with a sympathetic smile.

You barely nodded, guilt and regret still eating you from the inside, your mind filled with all of these memories of who you used to be. "I'm so sorry..." you muttered as Jack immediately pulled you in for a hug. "I'm so sorry..." you repeated, wrapping your arms around him.

"It's okay, baby. It's okay..." he says in a gentle voice, trying his best to comfort you. "You were willing to see things in a new perspective and now you've changed. That's all that matters."

From that day on, you swore things will change when and if you take over. No more ruthless hunting, just when and if it's necessary. Just when there's really a beast that needs to be stopped, and even then maybe killing them is too much. There's got to be a much humane way of dealing with them.

It was unclear how you'd be able to make that happen but, again, with Jack by your side you feel pretty invincible.

Unfortunately, Jack couldn't stay upstairs with you for too long. You laid in bed, still thinking about him. His lips exploring your neck and his hands eagerly roaming over your body. He left just a few minutes ago but you already miss him like you haven't seen him in decades. It was getting harder not to be around him whenever you want, making you think to yourself as you lay there just how long you'll be able to pretend this hunter lifestyle isn't slowly killing you.

The next day was pretty uneventful. If you closed your eyes long enough, you could still feel Jack's hands gripping your hips and listen to his whispers as he verbalized his love for you in the forms of "you're beautiful", "I could stay here with you forever" and "when did I get so lucky?".

You were so lost in your thoughts that you barely noticed your fiancée walking inside the room you were in. Suddenly, the book you were holding was the most important thing as you tried to act like you were reading instead of daydreaming.

"Feeling better today?" he asks, a hint of venom in his words. You figured he was just a little upset because you left to go to bed early, which is not what ‘the heir’ should do.

"Yes, a lot better. Thank you," you replied, looking up at him to give him a fake smile before looking back down at your book. Despite thinking that was the end of that, he stood in front of you, forcing you to look up again. "Is there something else I can help you with?" you asked, a little irritated that he's just standing there staring at you.

He looked more frustrated than ever. "I'd appreciate it if you could just tell me the truth for once, you know?"

Your stomach dropped, but tried to act like you had no idea what he was talking about. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He scoffed almost immediately. "You really think I'm that stupid? That I don't see the way he looks at you? Or how you two are always sneaking around behind everyone's back every chance you get?"

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. He knows? Oh, of course he knows, how could he not? But still, you wonder...how long has he known about you and Jack?

Before you could even ask, your partner spoke again. "I know you're seeing him. I know you're with him when you claim to go out on a 'hunting trip'. I know he gave you that necklace you always wear. I know you always run to him whenever you have the chance." You sat there in front of him completely speechless, which only encouraged him to continue. "What, you're not even gonna try to deny it?"

There was a quick pause.

"You said you wanted me to tell you the truth," was your cryptic reply, shrugging.

"So you are seeing him."

"Would it make any difference if I try to convince you otherwise?"

"Not really, but it'd be nice to know that you care at least a little about me– about us."

"Us?” you immediately say, almost as if the word was insulting to hear. “There is no us, don't you see?"

He gave you a look that showed you exactly how hurt he was, but after all this time knowing him, you couldn't shake off the feeling that he's not exactly hurting because he's realizing he completely lost you. He just lost his prize. "I loved you. I've been trying to make this work for both of us."

Perhaps he didn't even realize how much you were hurting while being in this arrangement, and he probably hasn't realized he's been loving you the wrong way.

"You really think something good could ever come out of this? I knew you were going to be my husband before I even met you in person. Can't you see how fucked up that is? We've been forced into this, there's no way love– true love, can grow in these circumstances."

"So you had to run to him?" he snapped. "He showed you what 'true love' is? Is that it? He gave you everything I never will?"

"Why are we even doing this?" you snapped, getting frustrated. "Do you really want to know every little detail there is about me and Jack?"

"I think I've noticed enough," he replied. "I can't believe you were capable of this."

"Well, sorry for not living up to the idea you made up in your head when you decided you wanted to marry me."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Did you ask my father to marry me because you actually wanted me, or was it because I was the easy way of accessing the Bloodstone legacy? Right now, to this day, the idea of permanently joining this family isn't one of the many reasons why you're here?" you confronted him, and obviously he didn't have much to say. "Haven't you been silent about me and Jack all this time just so you don't risk losing your place here?"

He didn't speak after that, so you stood up from your seat and walked closer to him. "I'm not proud of the way this unfolded, but Jack's the only person that has ever made me feel like I'm worth something beyond my last name and I deeply love him. What we have is the most precious thing I have right now, and I can't give that up."

His eyes traveled down to your hands when he noticed you were taking off your ring. You never really liked it anyway. Your stepmother picked it for you. Oh, how you absolutely despise that woman.

"Here," you continue as you hand him the ring, which he accepted with a perplexed expression. "You can have this, the mansion, the leadership, absolutely everything you wanted. I'm done trying to pretend like that's what I want."

"What are you doing?" he finally asks, turning to look at you as you're about to leave the room.

"I quit, basically," you say nonchalantly, like it was no big deal. To all the hunters out there it might be, but you couldn't care any less about this anymore.

He thankfully didn't stop you as you walked out of the room, still feeling the adrenaline rushing through your body. Did you really just say that? It wasn't one of those rants you do all by yourself? Those little moments you take to daydream of what it would be like to not be here living this life?

No. This is real. You're finally free.

With the biggest smile on your face, you rushed upstairs to gather your things and stuff them in suitcases as fast as you could, already starting to picture what freedom will be like. Just you and Jack, saving innocent creatures from the hunters, sharing your love for one another without anything standing in the way. You just couldn't wait to tell him about this.

[kontextmaschine]

So I never particularly thought of myself as socially incompetent; maybe socially weird, but in a way I largely attributed to undersocialization, growing up more directly after the Baby Boom time that all the adults had recalibrated their expectations around but not subsequently updated to grok we were no longer in a small town paper route world overrun with other kids to occupy ourselves with (and, you know, being alienated with freakish intelligence)

I realize since the personality change though that I just had no social instincts though, as Taylor Swift put it, I've never been a natural/all I [did was] try, try, try, and I had to actively cultivate social logic and pattern-matching.

And I did quite well, in fact. Got to the point where I had good enough models of "human", and narrowing types thereof, that after not even too much exposure to you I could generate a reasonable model of your mind in particular and hypotheses on its internal state, and some idea of which stimuli you would react to differently if they were/were not true, and fluidly drop these sonar pings into conversation and observe the reactions and refine the model… if I focus on one particular friendly subject enough (and it helps a lot if I'm manic) I can essentially not only read their thoughts but by determining where in the thought process they are at any given point introduce perfectly timed interrupts and influences to direct their train of thought.

…and I kind of figured that's what there was, and maybe a lot of people were just pretty content-free and superficial.

But how I realize this, why I'm suspecting in retrospect that the old personality was autistic is there apparently is just this whole other level of instinct to it I suddenly get, maybe "vibes" is right, I have no idea what bandwidth this information is being transmitted on, there's nothing like the stimulus->response->interpretation->new hypothesis loop for me to be deriving it from, it really might be some evolutionary relic of social species before language.

And the thing is it's not the same information. Like, I can't read thoughts this way, I read motivations. I can just somehow tell what someone else wants – to get something, to be recognized in some particular way, to be in accordance with some structure, to maximize for some particular emotion or self-conception. And then work things so whatever I want comes across as a fulfillment of that.

For one thing this turns out to be a lot more useful in getting laid than any stuff with ideas.

For another, I guess the distinction here maps to a plot/character distinction in literature.

But more to point this information not being redundant means that I can get good reads on people's thoughts and motivations, which combination seems a lot more useful in social situations than thoughts alone. I find myself confidently making plans on the understanding that their success at some point will need to involve recruiting a complete stranger and not being disappointed. It's wild.

[catcherinwhitebread]

complete track thoughts (while listening):

is this fr abt matty healy

yessss yessss YESSSS I LOCE THIS

liking more than i thought i would

alwyn when i catch you..

good intro

this second verse has gutted me

this is so real

jesus christ help me

OMG I LOVE THIS THE MOST

i hate the british

jaw dropped

IM HAVING HIS BABY NO IM NOT

YES GIRL

hits different living in a conservative town

LOVE STORY PLOT TWIST

so excited for this one

I DID MY TIME

who u running to

FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER OH

AMERICAN DREAM RAHHH

YES ALREADY LOVE

FLORIDA!!!

florenceeeeee

no one asks any questions here

YESYESYESYESBRIDGE

your home is only really a town your a guest in

this song is one hell of a drug

i have never enjoyed florida the way i enjoyed this song

beat yes

how can i be guilty as a sin

girllllllll GIRLLLLL

they’re gonna crucify me anyway

YES GIRL

IF U WANTED KE DEAD U SHOUDLVE JUST SAID

fav so far

YOU SHOULD BE

LETS HEAR ONE MORE JOKE BITCH

BEST SOMG EVER

we should just let her kill him

fuck this guy

fuck god too apparently

GOOD BOY THATS RIGHT

i can make bad guys good for the weekend (no really i can)

maybe i can’t

jesus christ kill me

GET LOVE QUICK SCHEME

OMG OMG OMG FUCKING CRYING

WHATTTTT

A COWARD CLAIMED HE WAS A LION

LOSS OF MY LIFE!?????????

YES U CAN

DANCING AND CRYING AND SMILING

IM SO DEPRESSED I ACT LIKE ITS MY BIRTHDAY

she’s so real

I CRY A LOT BUT I AM SO PRODUCTIVE

lowkey motivated rn

IM MISERABLE AND NO ONE EVEN KNOWS

already killing me

WERE YOU SENT BY SOMEONE WHO WANTWD KE DEAD

omg this bridge

YOU DESERVE PRISON

YOU ARE WHAT YOU DID

already a favorite

HEY YOU

WHO ARE WE TO FIGHT THE ALCHEMY

TOUCHDOWNNNN

hmmmmm football references

REMARKABLE

THIS TOWN IS FAKE BUT YOURE THE REAL THING

STEVIE NICKSS

i might die too

ITS HELL ON EARTH TO BE HEAVENLY

you look like taylor swift

[cinematicsoph]

dress • ashton irwin blurb (a swiftsos special)

summary: Say my name and everything just stops, I don't want you like a best friend, Only bought this dress so you could take it off

warnings: spicy ish oops, only a couple uses of Y/N, no specific pronouns but reader is implied to be female, drinking, swearing

a/n: howdy do guys, gals, non-binary pals, and others :) i'm starting a new special!!! at least one blurb for the four 5sos boys are going to be based on taylor swift songs. i have a list of taylor songs that i think give off the vibes of the boys and will base blurbs on those songs. i'm so so excited because swiftsos is like my favorite thing to talk about. also this all started on twitter (surprise surprise LMAO). anyways. enjoy, loves :)

Copyright @ 2022 sophi_quimby. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format by anyone but me

✧ ˚ 　· 　　. 　　 · 　˚ ✧ ✧ ˚ 　· 　　. 　　 · 　˚ ✧✧ ˚ 　· 　. 　　 · 　˚ ✧

   "Ash, no more marks," you say with a giggle and push him away. "I have too many to cover up already. I don't need more. Besides, we have to go. The guys are waiting for us."

   "Let 'em wait. Stay here a little longer." His voice is muffled by your skin as he nuzzles his head into your neck.

   "It's a party for you, Irwin! Come on, we gotta go celebrate your number one album." You grab the sheet and cover your body with it. Despite all that you and Ashton have been through, you're still slightly self-conscious about him seeing you naked outside of your...activities...together. You grab your clothes and head into the bathroom, closing the door with a sigh.

   Your number one rule was always "Never get involved with one of the guys." But after one too many drinks and more shots than necessary a few months ago, you may or may not have woken up in your best friend's hotel room...naked. And then it happened again. And again. And almost every night since the first time. In your defense, he was good. Like really good. So good that apparently neither one of you wanted to stop. That's how you ended up in Ashton's hotel room (for the second night in a row) under his sheets. According to him, he needed "a confidence boost before going to the party." So—like any good friend would—you snuck into Ashton's room beforehand to give him the boost of confidence he needed.

   After changing into your red cocktail dress and doing your makeup and hair, you open the door and walk out. "Your turn, pretty boy." He groans and pulls the blanket over his head. "Come on, Ash. The guys are waiting for you!" You giggle, though you're slightly annoyed, and walk over to the bed. You pull the blankets away from his face. "Get dressed." You leaned forward and kiss his cheek. "Or no more meetings," you whisper in his ear. That seemed to motivate him enough to get up and get ready because as you were walking out, heels in your hand and a smirk on your face, you hear him scrambling to get his clothes.

   Since your "meetings" were supposed to be secret, you two decided to leave separately. You leave his hotel room and head towards the ballroom the managers booked for the day.

   "Hey, pretty!" You hear a slightly drunk Calum yell at you as you walk in.

   "Hey, handsome. How much have you had to drink?" You lightly kiss his cheek and then sit down next to him at the bar. It wasn’t unusual for you and Cal to be flirty with each other. Calum's flirty personality didn't phase you anymore. His compliments, pet names, and nicknames were all just fun and games to you. You're just glad Ashton isn't down here yet to hear you two.

   “Only two!” He holds up three fingers in front of your face. Yeah, two bottles. You think.

   “I think it’s time to cut you off, Cal,” you giggle and push his arm down.

   “Y/N?” He finally made it downstairs. The way Ashton says your name makes your heart stop and your stomach does a thousand flips like it’s been a trained gymnast for years now. You didn’t know it was possible for a man, let alone your best friend, to make you feel this way. But it’s all platonic…right?

Flashback

   “Come on, Calum. You said you would come with me to get my dress for the Billboard party,” you whine and give him your best puppy dog eyes. It’s his weakness. It’s all boys' weakness.

   “Y/N/N, you have like three months to find a dress. Why do you have to go now?” Because your best friend convinced me to buy the dress I have been looking at for months now simply by calling me sexy once.

   "Because I got paid today and don't want the dress I want to be bought before I get it! Duh!" You roll your eyes and drag Calum off the couch. "Come on, Cal! Please? I'll buy you coffee," you look him in the eyes and once again try the puppy dog eyes.

   "Fine," he sighs and sits up. "But only because you're getting me coffee."

   The red cocktail dress was like nothing you'd ever worn before. It was shorter than you usually wear, sexier than the other dresses you've worn, and you felt more confident in it than any other outfit you've ever worn. 

   It was beautiful. You felt beautiful in it. And it would look so much more beautiful on Ashton's floor.

   "So? What do you think?" You step out of the fitting room and do a small spin in front of Calum.

   "Y/N, you look beautiful," he says as he watches you. "No one is going to be able to take their eyes off you."

   I’m only hoping for one pair of eyes.

End of Flashback

Time Skip

   A few drinks and dances later, you are well past “tipsy” like you pretended to be. 

   “Love, I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.” Ashton puts his hand on your lower back and whispers in your ear. You had been drinking and dancing with the guys for a while now, you were having so much fun that you didn’t even realize how much you had been drinking. “Come on, I’ll take you upstairs.”

   “‘M fine! Relax a little, Irwin. You don’t need to worry about me,” you drunkenly say and lean on him to steady yourself. Was the room always spinning like this?

   “Guys, I’m going to take Y/N upstairs to hopefully sober up a bit. The party is starting to die down anyways, you guys should head to bed too.” He’s such a mom…it’s so cute. 

   He guides and helps you upstairs to his room, his hand hasn’t left your lower back since you were downstairs. Why does it feel like his hand is leaving a burning tattoo on my skin?

   "Only you would manage to spill white wine on a red dress." He chuckles slightly and leads you into the bathroom. "Take off your dress, I'll send it to the dry cleaners, and get into the bath. I'm sure you're covered in alcohol." He walks out of the bathroom and grabs the pajamas you don't remember leaving here.

   "Are you sure this isn't just an excuse to get me naked?" You giggle and sit on the toilet, looking at the man towering over you.

   "Now, come on. You know me better than that." He leans in closer to your ear. "I have much better methods for getting you naked," he whispers and then lightly kisses your cheek. You giggle and your face heats up (though that may be from the alcohol). "Just get in the bath, love."

   "Only if you join me."

   The water was starting to cool off but you wouldn't want to be anywhere else than in Ashton's arms. He's massaging your shoulders and quietly humming one of the songs he's been writing. You slowly start to close your eyes, the alcohol running out of your body and the relaxation coming in.

   This isn't normal. Friends don't do this.

   Yeah, well we're not exactly friends so...

   Not exactly friends. Not exactly more. Or are you?

   "Ash?" You whisper to him, wanting to keep the quiet atmosphere. He quietly hums back, letting you know he's listening. "Do you...Do you remember when we first met? We looked completely different. I mean of course we did, we were just kids in high school. I remember one day when my ex broke up with me. And it was messy. And I was a mess. I ran to you right away, I guess I didn't have anyone else. Even though I was ugly sobbing and at my very lowest point, you still saw the good." You sit up and look at him. Everything comes crashing down and suddenly you realize...you don't want him like a best friend.

   "What are you getting at, my love?" My love...does he? Oh no, I'm shaking. Is it the cold or the nerves? Please be the cold. "Y/N/N? You're shaking, come on, let's get out."

   "Ash, just wait. I-I'm trying to tell you something." You sit on the opposite side of the very very small bathtub, looking at him. "You pulled me out of all my darkest moments, you still are. Hell, you do it even when I sleep! I wake up right before it gets bad because of you. And you pull me closer to your side and whisper 'It's okay, love. I've got you.' You've got me, Ash. I couldn't escape even if I wanted to."

   "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" He looks hopeful. That's a good sign...right?

   "I'm in love with you, Ashton Irwin. I love you more than a best friend, or a friend with benefits, or whatever the hell we are. I want to be yours. And I want you to be mine," you say nervously. Please don't hate me.

   "I'm already yours, y/n." He smiles and kisses you.

   "I can't believe you had no idea. Did you not see how I reacted to  all those guys looking at you?!" You two are cuddled up in his bed, talking about how dumb both of you are for not noticing your feelings for each other.

   "No one was looking at me! You're delusional."

   "It was because of that dress you were wearing! You looked stunning in it. No one took their eyes off you!"

   "Can I tell you a secret?" He nods, eagerly. He's always loved knowing secrets. "I only bought the dress so you could take it off."

[notsowrites]

it always leads to you

A bit of angst (because what’s a Malex fic without some angst), and a happy ending.

(AO3 Link)

Enjoy! <3

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Christmas had never been a happy holiday for Michael. Especially growing up in the system. When he'd come back to Roswell, after he'd found Max and Isobel, they'd tried to include him in their festivities. But for the kid who was bounced around the system, who lived out of his truck so he didn't have to spend the nights in a house he didn't feel welcome in, Christmas was a reminder of how much he wasn't wanted, and how he never fit in.

"You've never had a real Christmas before?"

The shocked sadness in Alex's voice was exactly why Michael was fine with not celebrating it, and especially with not telling anyone. He tries not to dwell on how much Alex has believed he should have experienced as a child and didn’t.

"But I was here during the holidays, we'd seen each other, you always said-"

Michael rolls his eyes. "I lied."

It had been easier those times Alex had been back on leave, when he'd shown up at the junkyard, knocking on the door of the Airstream, asking Michael what his plans for Christmas were. And he'd always answer that he would be with Max and Isobel. In the end, Alex hadn’t spent the night, and Michael knew he had no way of knowing that Michael wasn’t actually going anywhere on Christmas Day.

Christmas is only a few days away, and now they're standing in the middle of a field full of fully grown trees, ready to chop one down and haul it back to Alex's house. It had been Alex's idea, something he'd whispered into the space between them as they lay in bed at night. And Michael was more than content to just go along with however Alex planned on celebrating the holidays.

"Holidays were for family," he continues, not liking the hurt look on Alex's face, needing to fix it. "Back then, I didn't believe I had one."

"But you had Max and Isobel-"

"They had a family, they had parents who loved them. I was just the kid nobody wanted, and no one adopted." He glances around, pointing the saw in his hand at one of the trees close to Alex. "What about that one?"

Alex shakes his head, and they keep walking.

Not far from the one Alex had just rejected, Alex stops, walking all around a tree, eyes inspecting the branches, a smile slowly creeping across his face. Michael watches him reach out and feel the needles, the smile never fading.

"This one," Alex announces. "What do you think?"

Michael shrugs. "It's your tree, Alex."

The smile fades from Alex's face, but Michael watches as he turns back toward the tree and nods. "This one."

He drops the blanket on the snow, falling to the ground and scooching himself under the branches to get the teeth if the saw working against the wood of the base of the tree. Once it's cut, he ties a rope to the trunk, so they can pull it back to his truck to take it back to Alex's house.

Once the tree is safely in the bed of the truck, Alex reaches out and grabs his hand, stopping him from walking towards the driver's seat, and Michael turns to look at him. Alex is a vision, with a beanie on, a scarf tied tight around his neck to keep the chill out, his winter jacket zipped shut - and his cheeks stained a beautiful rosy red from the December cold.

"I can’t believe you never had a real Christmas before."

Michael sighs, not really wanting to talk about it. He's more than happy to go along with whatever Alex wants to do over the holidays.

"It's not a big deal," he insists. The last thing he needs or wants is for Alex is focus on him and forget to celebrate however he normally does. "If you're happy, I'm happy."

"Michael-"

"Let's just get the tree back to yours, okay?"

He leans in, pressing a kiss to Alex's cold cheek, and is surprised when Alex doesn't pull him back this time as he moves toward the driver's side.

The drive back is quiet, and when he glances over, he sees that Alex is focused on watching the world pass by through the window, he brow furrowed in concentration. Michael doesn't dwell too hard on it, doesn't ask what he's thinking about, just focuses back on the road instead.

They work in almost silence at Alex's, to get the three from the truck to the living room, in front of the window next to Alex's keyboard set up. Somehow they manage only to not spread pine needles all through the house, and Alex sweeps up the few easily. Michael works on adjusting the tree, gets it standing upright and straight in it's stand.

When he's done, as he steps back for one final check, he notices two boxes have appeared on the kitchen table - one labeled "tree lights" and the other "decorations." He pulls the lid off the box with the lights and gets to work, not waiting for Alex to reappear or give him instructions. He picks a string of soft white lights, nestling the wires in the branches, and wrapping then around to the top.

But Alex does reappear, immediately opening up the other box, pulling out decorations and ornaments as Michael works. He doesn’t pay close attention to the what until the lights are on the tree, and he’s standing back to make sure they look good, leaning back against the table near where Alex is standing.

“Thank you,” Alex says, turning to look at the tree. But it’s the lack of a smile on his face, the almost sad look in his eyes that has Michael reaching out and taking Alex’s hand pausing his movements in searching through the box in front of him.

“I was an asshole earlier,” Michael immediately replies, because he knows he was. Christmas isn’t something he’s ever celebrated, isn’t something he’s ever believed is for him.

Alex shakes his head. “I get it though. I just- I never knew.”

“Because I didn’t tell you.”

He watches Alex nod, turning back toward the box, continuing his search for something. He watches Alex pull out colored garland, and ornaments that look like they’re definitely from the Manes home and not something Alex has recently purchased in the time he’s lived in the house. Then, he watches as Alex pulls out a picture frame - it’s smaller than a normal size, much more akin to something you’d hang on a tree that wouldn’t kill the branches.

Alex holds it out to him.

“This is for you.”

Michael takes it, and gets a better look at the photograph - it’s the two of them. Seventeen and happy, guitars in hand, standing in the middle of the desert. Alex is focused on a chord progression on his guitar, and Michael is staring at Alex. It’s a photo he’s intimately familiar with, one that he has his own copy of, that he’s stared at more times than he can count.

“I left my copy with Maria when I enlisted, so nothing would happen to it. Because it was the only picture I had of the two of us.” Alex picks up some of the pile he’d made on the table, and turns around, crossing the living room, and dropping the contents on the sofa. Michael watches as he picks one thing - a string of garland - and starts to hang it on the branches. “And then my accident, and I moved back here, and my first Christmas in this house, I had that made. We weren’t together, we weren’t much of anything yet - but it was a reminder to myself.”

Michael’s fingers rub up against something on the back, and he flips the photo around to find duct tape, and something underneath. He peels back the tape, and pauses.

It’s a key.

“I didn’t know when we’d figure it all out, if we’d figure it out. I didn’t know if we’d ever end up together. But if we did, if we’d gotten to this point where we were together, and figuring us out, I thought one day I would ask.”

Michael’s gaze snaps to Alex.

“Ask me to move in?”

Alex nods, finishing with the garland on the tree, and walking back towards Michael, who hasn’t been able to move from where he’d been standing. Too distracted by what was happening, that Alex wasn’t angry at him for how he acted today, that he’d planned this.

“But this is your home. I can’t just-”

“It’s a house, Michael. It’s walls, and a roof, and place to rest my head at night. It didn’t feel like a home until I started waking up next to you in the morning.”

Oh.

He gets it, because he feels the same way. The first time Alex had stayed the night, the first time Michael had woken up and Alex had been there, next to him, waiting for him to wake up, had been such a happy moment for him. One he’d wished he’d gotten more of at the time, because for a second he’d allowed himself to hope that there would be more of them. That it wouldn’t be the first, and only time, he’d get to wake up next to Alex.

Gently, he pulls Alex toward him, so they’re pressed together, and Michael drops the photograph on the table, key still half attached by the tape on the back, reaching up instead to take Alex’s face in his hands, leaning forward to press their lips together.

He hopes it’s enough of an answer for Alex.

Michael lets himself think of the future, of their future together, something that is always easier, and comes more naturally to him when he’s got Alex in his arms. There’s never been anyone else who has made him hope, made him believe Earth could be home, the way Alex has.

[kjack89]

37, pls!

In a shocking turn of events, no ship was listed, and I did not default to E/R!

...well, they still feature, but...

37. "Paper Rings" by Taylor Swift.

Established Courferre, with a side helping of E/R, modern AU. Mostly fluff with some misunderstandings. The good stuff.

“Is it the ‘to be free’ thing?” Marius asked, propping his chin on his hand.

Combeferre blinked owlishly from his phone up at him, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Marius was talking to him and not literally any other person. But he and Marius were the only ones in the café, and he looked back at him, his brow furrowing. “Excuse me?”

Marius blushed slightly but continued doggedly onward. “Look, I know you and I don’t really, uh, talk—”

“Not so much, no,” Combeferre agreed in an undertone.

“—But, uh, as Courfeyrac’s best friend—” Combeferre arched an eyebrow and Marius hastily amended, “I mean, uh, as one of Courfeyrac’s best friends, I feel like I have an obligation to inquire after your motives.”

Combeferre took a sip of his coffee before asking, “You know I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, right?”

Marius’s blush deepened, and he gnawed on his bottom lip before apparently deciding to change tacks. “How long have you and Courfeyrac been dating?”

Combeferre blinked before glancing down at his watch. “Two years, four months, six days, zero hours and about one minute.” He cocked his head slightly. “Give or take.”

“Was the zero really necessary?” Marius asked with a sigh before shaking his head. “You know what, don’t answer that.” He gave Combeferre a pointed look. “And how long have you been in love with Courfeyrac?”

It was Combeferre’s turn to blush, hating any reminder of how stupidly obvious he’d been to everyone except, apparently, the man in question. “A bit longer than that,” he muttered.

Marius looked momentarily satisfied. “And you know that Courfeyrac’s loved you for almost as long, right?”

“Of course.”

“So then why haven’t you taken the next step?” Marius asked.

Combeferre just stared at him. “Marius, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but Courfeyrac and I have had sex. Many, many, many times. Including before we started officially dating.”

Marius huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes. “I know that,” he snapped, scowling.

“Ok, so then what—”

“Why haven’t you asked him to marry you?”

Combeferre immediately choked on an ill-timed sip of coffee and busied himself with mopping up the mess he’d made, mostly to give himself time to come up with some kind of answer. He could feel Marius watching him closely, and thankfully, after what felt like the longest minute of Combeferre’s life, Marius sighed and stood. “Well,” he said, “just thought you might want to give it some thought. As one of Courfeyrac’s best friends, anyway.”

With that, he left, and Combeferre stopped pretending to get nonexistent coffee out of his shirt, instead sitting and staring off into space and wondering just what, exactly, he was supposed to do now.

----------

He went to Enjolras and Grantaire’s.

He let himself in without knocking, carefully balancing the drink carrier with three cups of coffee. “You two better not be doing anything untoward,” he called as he closed the door behind him. “Because I am in crisis mode.”

Enjolras glanced up from where he was reading the newspaper on the couch. “Define ‘untoward’,” he said, a little dryly, reaching out to accept the cup of coffee from Combeferre. “Since I’m assuming you picked up on using that particular word from Courfeyrac, I’ll also assume you mean something sexual, and obviously, we are not.”

“Speak for yourself,” Grantaire said as he padded into the room wearing nothing but a towel. “I could’ve been doing anything in the shower, but I smelled coffee, so.”

He took a cup from Combeferre and dropped a kiss on the top of Enjolras’s head before returning to the bedroom to assumedly get dressed. Enjolras rolled his eyes affectionately before looking back at Combeferre. “So, crisis mode,” he said mildly. “Whose ass do I need to kick?”

Combeferre scowled as he sank down on the couch. “Pontmercy,” he said sourly. “He had the gall to come to the café this morning to ask me why I haven’t asked Courfeyrac to marry me.”

“Ah,” Enjolras said, fiddling with the lid of his coffee cup. “And what did you tell him?”

Combeferre shrugged. “Nothing, really,” he admitted, drawing a hand across his face. “Which he probably took as an answer in and of itself.”

“Was it an answer?” Enjolras asked, and Combeferre looked sharply. “I mean, he’s not entirely wrong. You and Courfeyrac are kind of at that point.”

Combeferre groaned, tilting his head back against the couch. “Not you, too.”

Enjolras just shrugged. “Look, marriage has worked out wonderfully for me and Grantaire —”

“You two got drunkenly married in Las Vegas when you were supposed to be at a conference and Grantaire was supposed to be here,” Combeferre pointed out. “It’s not exactly the same thing.”

“True, but it worked out for us nonetheless.”

Combeferre sighed. “Because you two idiots are meant to be together.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “And you and Courfeyrac aren’t?”

Combeferre scowled again. “I didn’t say that.”

Enjolras looked at him closely for a moment before asking, somewhat hesitantly “Are you against marriage in general? Don’t get me wrong, it is an exceedingly flawed system, and don’t get me started on how asinine it is that benefits are tied to marriage, and definitely do not get me started on how disabled people are essentially barred from marriage in order to keep their own benefits, and—”

Combeferre cleared his throat. “Enjolras, the only one getting you started is you.”

“Right. Sorry.” Enjolras shook his head before asking, “But is that it? Do you just not want to get married? Because there really is nothing wrong with that.”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Combeferre said before taking a swig of his own coffee. “But regardless, it’s more than that. Marriage is about bringing two lives together, and…” He trailed off. “And I guess you just need to make sure both parties want those two lives brought together.”

Enjolras frowned. “So you think that Courfeyrac doesn’t want that?”

Combeferre shook his head. “No,” he said, somewhat reluctantly. “At least, I think he thinks he wants that.” Enjolras’s frown deepened, and Combeferre shook his head again, standing up. “Honestly, I think there’s someone else I need to talk to about this.”

“Like who?”

Combeferre took a deep breath, already dreading the words that were about to come out of his mouth. “I think I need to talk to Grantaire.”

----------

Combeferre knocked on the bedroom door and opened the door just enough to ask, “Are you decent?”

“Never,” Grantaire told him from where he was lounging on the bed, thankfully fully clothed. “But I am dressed, if that’s what you mean.”

Combeferre let himself into the room and closed the door after him. “So, uh, I was hoping we could talk.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “About what?”

“Courfeyrac,” Combeferre said honestly. “And why I haven’t proposed yet.”

“That’s a hell of a subject for this early in the morning,” Grantaire remarked. “What brought this about?”

Combeferre sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Not so much what as who,” he hedged. “Marius asked me.”

“Enjolras will kill him,” Grantaire said instantly.

Combeferre laughed lightly and shook his head. “He was just trying to be a good friend to Courfeyrac. Or something like that.”

Grantaire rolled over to grab his phone off of the nightstand before sitting up. “So Marius asked you about your plans for marriage, and this has sent you into an existential tailspin because…?” he prompted.

Combeferre managed a wry smile. “What makes you think it’s an existential tail spin?”

“Because you must be truly desperate if you’re coming to talk to me about it.”

Combeferre considered that for a moment. “Fair enough.”

Grantaire leveled a look at him. “So, ask me what you want to ask me. I can’t promise I won’t go off on several tangents in answering, but you knew that risk when you came in here.”

Combeferre just nodded slowly, trying to figure out the best way to ask what he wanted to. Of course, what he ended up asking was anything but. “Does it bother you that Enjolras makes more money than you?”

For a moment, Grantaire just stared at him. Then, without warning, he let out a noise that may have been a hastily smothered cackle. “I’m sorry, have you met Enjolras? Enjolras is unemployed. Enjolras does not make money. Enjolras, in fact, loses money on a daily basis which I would know because I’m the one who manages Enjolras’s money because he’s rather pretend it doesn’t exist. To that end, Enjolras’s money, namely his trust fund, is employed in the capitalist stock market that he loathes. Enjolras’s money makes money. So no, it doesn’t bother me. It does bother him, but I’m less concerned.”

Combeferred scowled. “I’m being serious.”

Grantaire met his glare evenly. “So am I. Do you think being financially secure for the first time in my adult life is something that I lose sleep over?” He shrugged, seemingly unconcernedly. “So if that’s why you thought that I was the person to talk to about this…”

Combeferre sighed. “It’s not,” he said, before frowning and adding, “Well, it’s part of it, but it’s more…” He fiddled with the duvet before blurting, “Do you ever feel like Enjolras settled for you?”

“Of course,” Grantaire said immediately, and when Combeferre did a double take, he gave him a small, sharp smile. “He looks like a fucking Greek god and I look like a gargoyle on a good day. Not to mention he’s rich, and smart, and could have probably anyone he wanted.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean,” Combeferre muttered.

Grantaire’s expression softened. “But the problem with that is that, whether I think he lost his mind or not, who he wants is me.” He shrugged. :And probably for good reason, because let’s be honest, he could have anyone he wanted, but he would not be able to keep anyone besides me. No one else would put up with his shit the way I do.”

Combeferre laughed dryly. “Well, you may not be wrong about that.”

“So that’s what this is about?” Grantaire asked. “You think that Courfeyrac is settling for you?”

Combeferre shrugged. “Something like that, I guess,” he muttered. “He’s just…well, he’s Courfeyrac. And unlike Enjolras who could have anyone, Courfeyrac has had everyone. And even if he seems happy, at the end of the day, I’m a philosophy professor at a state school with student loans that at this rate, I will die with.” His bitterness bubbled up before he could stop it. “And not even tenure track! I’m a fucking adjunct!”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Not exactly a catch.”

“Not so much,” Combeferre said heavily. “And it feels…I don’t know, selfish of me to want to trap Courfeyrac in this life with me when he has so many other options.”

“Even if he doesn’t want the other options?” Grantaire asked softly.

Combeferre jerked a shrug, not meeting Grantaire’s eyes. “He doesn’t want them right now. But that doesn’t mean he won’t one day. And at the end of the day, I can’t give Courfeyrac the life he wants.”

“You don’t need to.” Grantaire said the words calmly but Combeferre still looked sharply at him. “Courfeyrac can give himself the life he wants. If – and this is a big if – that’s even the life he wants.”

“So what’s my role in this, then?” Combeferre asked skeptically. “I’m just, what, a sugar baby along for the ride?”

“Baby, I’ve called you many things, but I’ve never in a million years thought of you as my sugar baby,” Courfeyrac said from the doorway, and Combeferre whirled around to stare at him.

Grantaire patted Combeferre on the knee before standing, grabbing his cup of coffee. “I’ll leave you both to it,” he said, air-kissing Courfeyrac’s cheek as he slid past him, closing the door after him.

“What are you doing here?” Combeferre asked, his mouth suddenly dry as he stared up at Courfeyrac.

“Grantaire texted me,” Courfeyrac told him, sitting down next to him on the bed. “Said that my former roommate had opened his big mouth and caused a bit of a kerfuffle.”

“You’re the only person in the world who can use the word ‘kerfuffle’ unironically,” Combeferre said with a short laugh.

“And Marius is the only person I know who makes a particular talent out of fellating his own foot,” Courfeyrac said dryly.

Combeferre snorted, resting his head on Courfeyrac’s shoulder. “Thank you so much for that mental image.”

Courfeyrac reached up automatically to run his fingers through Combeferre’s hair. “You’re welcome,” he said, with something like his usual cheerfulness, though it faded when he added, quietly, “You know, Marius doesn’t know what he’s talking about. And if he, I don’t know, gave you any kind of impression that I’m unhappy with where we are in our relationship—”

“He didn’t,” Combeferre assured him, sitting upright. “I know that if there was an actual issue, you’d come to me about it.” He hesitated before adding, “But he also gave me some things to think about.”

Courfeyrac nodded slowly, not quite meeting Combeferre’s eyes. “Look,” he said, his voice rough, “if this is the part of the conversation where you start talking about how you and I want different things from our future, can we maybe move this conversation elsewhere? I would prefer not to be sitting where Enjolras and Grantaire regularly fuck for this.”

Combeferre barked a laugh. “Bold of you to assume that they don’t regularlhy fuck on every surface in this apartment,” he said before reaching out to grab Courfeyrac’s hand. “And even bolder of you to assume that this conversation is heading anywhere remotely in that direction.”

“You’re not breaking up with me, then?”

Combeferre raised Courfeyrac’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his palm. “Decidedly not.”

Courfeyrac grinned. “Good,” he said. “Because it would make this next part a little awkward if that was your plan.”

Without warning, he pulled his hand away from Combeferre’s to fumble in his pocket before getting down on one knee. Combeferre gaped at him as Courfeyrac opened the ring box he had pulled from his pocket to reveal the simple silver ring inside. “Combeferre, I love you. And I know that we still have some things to figure out, but I want us to figure them out together. The only thing that I care about is spending the rest of my life with you.”

“Courf—”

But Courfeyrac didn’t let him interrupt. “I know that you think that because I enjoy comfort and pretty things that we want different lives, or that I’m somehow settling for you. But you’re the most comforting thing in my life. You’re who I want to come home to every night and who I want to wake up to every morning.” He paused before winking. “And it doesn’t hurt that you sure are pretty.”

Combeferre stared at him. “How do you know exactly what I was thinking?” he asked, somewhat doubtfully. “When I felt like I couldn’t even tell you…”

“Truthfully?” Courfeyrac half-smiled. “I could pretend that it’s just because I know you so well, but I’ve been here for a while and the walls in this place are not as thick as Grantaire and you both seemed to think.”

Combeferre shook his head slowly. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, it’s a yes/no question, so there’s really only two options. And not to pressure you but my knees are not what they used to be.” Combeferre shook his head again, but this time, he was smiling, and Courfeyrac smiled at him. “Seriously, though, I don’t know what gave you the impression that you aren’t, I don’t know, good enough or whatever, or that you need to give me any kind of life, but I love what you do for a living.” He paused before adding, a little pointedly, “And maybe I was looking forward to giving you the kind of life I think you deserve.”

Combeferre sighed. “So you think I’m being ridiculous.”

Courfeyrac shook his head, his brow furrowing. “Of course not. But I do think you got into your head when you should’ve just talked to me about it.” He gave him a measured look. “And for the record, I would still want to marry you if our only source of income was the pittance the university feels you and other adjuncts deserve.”

“Well when you put it like that,” Combeferre murmured, unable to stop the grin that spread across his face.

Courfeyrac grinned as well. “So is that a yes?”

Combeferre nodded. “Yes, absolutely yes, and I’m sorry—”

Courfeyrac cut him off the most effective way possible, by kissing him even as he slid the ring onto his finger. “Don’t,” he said fiercely when they broke apart just far enough to catch their breath. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Just promise me that from here on out, we talk about it before you talk to Marius, and Enjolras, and Grantaire.”

Combeferre laughed breathlessly. “Marius and Grantaire I can do. I can’t make that promise about Enjolras.”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes before considering it. “Fair enough, and I suppose we both deserve a somewhat neutral arbitrator.”

“I love you,” Combeferre told him, meaning every word more than he ever had.

Courfeyrac’s grin softened. “I love you, too,” he said, kissing him once more. “And I meant what I said – all I want in my life is you. And the only life I want is the one we build together. So in that regard, you’re the only one who can give me the life I want.”

Combeferre kissed him, a slow, deep kiss. “Well,” he murmured once more, not even trying to stop his stupid grin, “when you put it like that.”

[bananaofswifts]

Taylor Swift appears to be waging war over the serial resale of her old master recordings on two fronts. She recently confirmed that she is already underway in the process of re-recording the six albums she made for the Big Machine label, in order to steer her fans (and sync licensing execs) toward the coming alternate versions she’ll control. But now that she’s followed the surprise release of “Folklore” with the very, very surprise release of “Evermore” less than five months later, the thought may occur: If she keeps up this pace, she may have more new albums out on the Republic label than she ever did on Big Machine in a quarter of the time. Flooding the zone to further crowd out the oldies is unlikely to be Swift’s real motivation for giving the world a full-blown “Folklore” sequel this instantaneously: As motivations for prolific activity go, relieving and sublimating quarantine pressure is probably even better than revenge. Anyway, this is not a gift horse to be looked in the mouth. “Evermore,” like its mid-pandemic predecessor, feels like something that’s been labored over — in the best possible way — for years, not something that was written and recorded beginning in August, with the bow said to be put on it only about a week ago. Albums don’t get graded on a curve for how hastily they came together, or shouldn’t be, but this one doesn’t need the handicap. It’d be a jewel even if it’d been in progress forevermore and a day.The closest analog for the relation the new album bears to its predecessor might be one that’d seem ancient to much of Swift’s audience: U2 following “Achtung Baby” with “Zooropa” while still touring behind the previous album. It’s hard to remember now that a whole year and a half separated those two related projects; In that very different era, it seemed like a ridiculously fast follow-up. But the real comparison lies in how U2, having been rewarded for making a pretty gutsy change of pace with “Achtung,” seemed to say: You’re okay with a little experimentation? Let’s see how you like it when we really boil things down to our least commercial impulses, then — while we’ve still got you in the mood.Swift isn’t going avant-garde with “Evermore.” If anything, she’s just stripping things down to even more of an acoustic core, so that the new album often sounds like the folk record that the title of the previous one promised — albeit with nearly subliminal layers of Mellotrons, flutes, French horns and cellos that are so well embedded beneath the profuse finger-picking, you probably won’t notice them till you scour the credits. But it’s taking the risk of “Folklore” one step further by not even offering such an obvious banger (irony intended) as “Cardigan.” Aaron Dessner of the National produced or co-produced about two-thirds of the last record, but he’s on 14 out of 15 tracks here (Jack Antonoff gets the remaining spot), and so the new album is even more all of a piece with his arpeggiated chamber-pop impulses, Warmth amid iciness is a recurring lyrical motif here, and kind of a musical one, too, as Swift’s still increasingly agile vocal acting breathes heat into arrangements that might otherwise seem pretty controlled. At one point Swift sings, “Hey, December, I’m feeling unmoored,” like a woman who might even know she’s going to put her album out a couple of weeks before Christmas. It’s a wintry record — suitable for double-cardigan wearing! — and if you’re among the 99% who have been feeling unmoored, too, then perhaps you are Ready For It. Swift said in announcing the album that she was moving further into fiction songwriting after finding out it was a good fit on much of “Folklore,” a probably inevitable move for someone who’s turning 31 in a few days and appears to have a fairly settled personal life. Which is not to say that there aren’t scores to settle, and a few intriguing tracks whose real-life associations will be speculated upon. But just as the “Betty”/”August” love triangle of mid-year established that modern pop’s most celebrated confessional writer can just make shit up, too, so, here, do we get the narrator of “Dorothea,” a honey in Tupelo who is telling a childhood friend who moved away and became famous that she’s always welcome back in her hometown. (Swift may be doing a bit of empathic wondering in a couple of tracks here how it feels to be at the other end of the telescope.) One time the album takes a turn away from rumination into a pure spirit of fun — while getting dark anyway — is “No Body, No Crime,” a spirited double-murder ballad that may have more than a little inspiration in “Goodbye, Earl.” Since Swift already used the Dixie Chicks for background vocals two albums ago, for this one she brings in two of the sisters from Haim, Danielle and Este, and even uses the latter’s name for one of the characters. Yes, the rock band Haim’s featured appearance is on the only really country-sounding song on the record… there’s one you didn’t see coming, in the 16 hours you had to wonder about it. Yet there are also a handful of songs that clearly represent a Swiftian state of mind. At least, it’s easy to suppose that the love songs that opens the album, “Willow,” is a cousin to the previous record’s “Invisible String” and “Peace,” even if it doesn’t offer quite as many clearly corroborating details about her current relationship as those did. On the sadder side, Swift is apparently determined to run through her entire family tree for heartrending material. On “Lover,” she sang for her stricken mother; on “Folklore,” for her grandfather in wartime. In that tradition the new album offers “Marjorie,” about the beloved grandmother she lost in 2003, when she was 13. (The lyric videos that are being offered online mostly offer static visual loops, but the one for “Marjorie” is an exception, reviving a wealth of stills and home-movie footage of Grandma, who was quite a looker in a miniskirt in her day.) Rue is not something Swift is afraid of here anymore than anywhere else, as she sings, “I should’ve asked you questions / I should’ve asked you how to be / Asked you to write it down for me / Should’ve kept every grocery store receipt / ‘Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me,” lines that will leave a dry eye only in houses that have never known death. The piece de resistance in its poignance is Swift actually resurrecting faint audio clips of Marjorie, who was an opera singer back in the day. It’s almost like ELO’s “Rockaria,” played for weeping instead of a laugh. Swift has not given up, thank God, on the medium that brought her to the dance — the breakup song — but most of them here have more to do with dimming memories and the search for forgiveness, however slowly and incompletely achieved, than feist. But doesn’t Swift know that we like her when she’s angry? She does, and so she delves deep into something like venom just once, but it’s a good one. The ire in “Closure,” a pulsating song about an unwelcome “we can still be friends, right?” letter from an ex, seems so fresh and close to the surface that it would be reasonable to speculate that it is not about a romantic relationship at all, but a professional one she has no intention of ever recalling in a sweet light. Or maybe she does harbor that a disdain for an actual former love with that machinelike a level of intensity. What “Evermore” is full of is narratives that, like the music that accompanies them, really come into focus on second or third listen, usually because of a detail or two that turns her sometimes impressionistic modes completely vivid. “Champagne Problems” is a superb example of her abilities as a storyteller who doesn’t always tell all: She’s playing the role of a woman who quickly ruins a relationship by balking at a marriage proposal the guy had assumed was an easy enough yes that he’d tipped off his nearby family. “Sometimes you just don’t know the answer ‘ Til someone’s on their knees and asks you / ‘She would’ve made such a lovely bride / What a shame she’s fucked in the head’ / They said / But you’ll find the real thing instead / She’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred.” (Swift has doubled the F-bomb quotient this time around, among other expletives, for anyone who may be wondering whether there’s rough wordplay amid Dessner’s delicacy — that would an effing yes.) “‘Tis the Damn Season,” representing a gentler expletive, gives us a character who is willing to settle, or at least share a Christmas-time bed with an ex back in the hometown, till something better comes along. The pleasures here are shared, though not many more fellow artists have broken into her quarantine bubble this time around. Besides Haim’s cameo, Marcus Mumford offers a lovely harmony vocal on “Cowboy Like Me,” which might count as the other country song on the album, and even throws in something Swift never much favored in her Nashville days, a bit of lap steel. Its tale of male and female grifters meeting and maybe — maybe — falling in love is really more determinedly Western than C&W, per se, though. The National itself, as a group, finally gets featured billing on “Coney Island,” with Matt Berninger taking a duet vocal on a track that recalls the previous album’s celebrated Bon Iver collaboration “Exile,” with ex-lovers taking quiet turns deciding who was to blame. (Swift saves the rare laugh line for herself: “We were like the mall before the internet / It was the one place to be.) Don’t worry, legions of new Bon Iver fans: Dessner has not kicked Justin Vernon out of his inner circle just to make room for Berninger. The Bon Iver frontman whose appearance on “Folklore” came as a bit of a shock to some of his fan base actually makes several appearances on this album, and the one that gets him elevated to featured status again, as a duet, the closing “Evermore,” is different from “Exile” in two key ways. Vernon gets to sing in his high register… and he gets the girl. As it turned out, the year 2020 did not involve any such waiting for Swift fans; it’s an embarrassment of stunning albums-ending-in-“ore” that she’s mined out of a locked-down muse.

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot “Artistic Differences” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Kurt and Blaine have known each other all their lives. They've loved each other almost as long. But as Blaine uses his love for Kurt as inspiration for his music, Kurt has yet to reciprocate. And since painting is Kurt's entire world, Blaine is worried about what that might mean for the two of them. (2703 words)

Notes: I had been writing this for the @klaineadvent Drabble Challenge 2020 prompt 'opinion'. I finally finished it. Wee! XD

Read on AO3.

Baby, you're not alone...

'Cause you're here with me...

And nothing's ever gonna bring us down...

'Cause nothing can keep me from lovin' you...

And you know it's true...

It don't matter what'll come to be...

Our love is all we need to make it through...

Blaine stops singing when he notices an echo haunting his lyrics, lingering on the high notes for longer than written. He listens with eyes closed, smiling at his keyboard. 

His boyfriend Kurt, humming behind the melody. 

Blaine has been ironing this song out for the past three hours now but Kurt hasn't complained once about the constant stopping and starting.

He never does. 

Blaine peeks over his shoulder as he continues to play with the harmonies and watches Kurt, focused on the canvas in front of him, swaying to the rhythm of the music, happily sandwiched between his two passions - art and music.

It's a mild and sunny Saturday - a whole day devoted to cleaning up commissions and tying loose ends on weekly projects before their one day off together. Blaine and Kurt share a studio space - normally unheard of for an artist and a musician, but they make it work. It helps that they've known one another for so long that being alone together is the same as being alone with themselves. That also means they get the inside scoop on what the other is working on long before the public does.

And what they're not working on, which has begun to bother Blaine.

Blaine adores everything his talented boyfriend comes up with. Even regarding his more controversial works, there isn't a thing Kurt has painted that Blaine finds objectionable. Kurt puts his heart and soul into every painting, no matter who it's for, and no matter the subject. A writer from Artforum once wrote: "Kurt Hummel goes beyond the veil to showcase not just the external, but the core of every subject - their drives and motivations. It pairs nicely with the transparency of his own soul, which shines through the gouache and the gesso to leave the viewer with a tangible piece."

And therein lies the root of Blaine's problem.

A glance at one of Kurt's canvasses and the world knows everything it needs to about what he loves.

But one subject in particular has gone wholly unrepresented.

“How come you've never painted a portrait of me?” Blaine asks.

"Hmm... what's that, love?" Kurt mutters, switching out brushes, then moving from a blob of Titanium White to a smear of Winsor Blue.

"How come you've never painted a portrait of me?" Blaine rises off his piano bench and relocates to the wooden folding chair behind Kurt's easel in the hopes of pulling his attention a bit. "You've been an artist for as long as I've known you, and I've known you your entire life. But not once have you ever painted a portrait of me."

“Why do I need to? I have you right here," Kurt says, pretending to bop the tip of Blaine's nose with his brush. "Besides, these aren’t personal." His gaze bounces between the three canvases set on easels in an arc in front of him. "They’re bought and paid for.”

"But what about your private stuff? You've shown me your sketchbooks and your digital art files. Unless you have some hidden folder marked 'secret boyfriend art' that I've yet to come across, there's not a single piece of me in any of your work."

Kurt doesn't steer his gaze away from the apple he's adding highlights to to acknowledge his pouty boyfriend, but the corner of his mouth hitches. "If you say so, dear."

"I know so," Blaine grumps, crossing his arms over his chest and dropping back in the chair so hard he nearly topples it over.

"That's your opinion."

"You're evading."

"Is it really so important to you?"

"Yes! It would be nice to be immortalized by my artist boyfriend!"

Kurt snickers. "Are you that much of a narcissist?"

"Your art is important to you! More than that - it's your life! You paint everything that you love! You've made dozens of paintings of Finn, your father, your mother, your Navigator... "

"My Navigator is my baby. It deserves love. I don't get to drive it much living in the city," Kurt defends. "Besides, those paintings I posted on Instagram landed me a huge contract with Lincoln, and that paid for our month-long tryst to Bali. You're welcome, by the way."

"I'm not saying I'm not grateful... " Blaine pauses, the smile on his face a souvenir from thirty straight days of overindulgence in sex and alcohol. "I think I more than proved that on that private beach? Under the moonlight?"

"Yeah, you did," Kurt growls, silently hoping that will be the end of this discussion.

"But... " Blaine picks up and Kurt's heart sinks.

No luck.

"... nowhere am I present in your work. Not that I've seen. Not even in the abstract. And that makes me think... " 

"Think what?" Kurt mutters, his playful attitude fading the longer this conversation drags on.

Blaine sighs, realizing how much like a spoiled toddler he sounds. But he's in too deep to stop now. "That you don't expect me to be around long."

Kurt's snicker turns into a full-blown chortle. "We've been together forever! You staked a claim on me in kindergarten! Are you suddenly going somewhere?"

"Can't you take this seriously?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's ridiculous!"

Blaine huffs. "Great. So my feelings are ridiculous."

"No, Blaine, your feelings are valid. This argument is ridiculous. Believe it or don't, you don't know everything about me. Or my work. What does it matter what I put on a canvas? I told you that I love you! That I would always love you! I tell you over and over and over! Those are my words! My truth! Listen to my truth!"

"B-but what if you change your mind?" Blaine grimaces when that toddler inside him begins throwing an all-out tantrum.

"Then I change my mind!" Kurt groans, slamming his free hand down on an open tube of Dandelion Green, sending a thick ribbon of paint a good four feet. "I'm allowed to change my mind! And so are you! But I don't see that happening!"

"Then why won't you marry me?"

Kurt pulls a face, probably without thinking about it. "Because I'm not very fond of marriage."

"Why not? Your parents had a great marriage! And your father has a wonderful second marriage!"

"But your parents don't have a very good marriage, do they? Nor your older brother, who's been divorced twice already! " Kurt argues, frustration causing him to forget himself and clean his stained hand on the untucked hem of his shirt instead of a rag. That should be a huge red-flag for Blaine to back down, yet he doesn't. Common sense? Sorry, don't know her. "And the national average isn't that great, either. Doesn't it mean more that I choose to stay with you instead of feeling obligated to?"

Blaine doesn't have an answer for that, even though the answer is obviously yes. Of course, it does. And in high school, that would have been enough to shut Blaine up. But admitting to that feels too much like conceding, and this one time, this is an argument he wants to win. "Did you hear that song I've been working on?" Blaine asks, switching gears so quickly, it puts Kurt on edge.

"Yes," Kurt replies, his voice becoming tight quickly. "It's lovely."

"I wrote it for you."

"Thank you. It sounds wonderful. Another huge hit in the making."

"It's the 15th song I've written in your honor."

"Wow," Kurt says dryly, predicting the direction this is heading. "That many?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's an incredibly kind and loving gesture, one that I didn't know required reciprocation."

"It doesn't require reciprocation. But it would be nice."

Kurt rolls his eyes at Blaine's agenda. Tit for tat. Is that how this is supposed to work? "From what I remember, those songs made you a pretty penny."

"So?"

"So, it's not like you wrote them for me and kept them between us. Most of those songs are chart-toppers."

"But I didn't release them for the money! I wouldn't care if they didn't make me a dime! I put them on the albums because I'm not afraid to let the world know how I feel about you!"

Kurt's brow furrows as he fights through a blooming headache to decode that declaration. Once he gets it, he gasps. "I'm not hiding you away if that's what you're implying! You go with me EVERYWHERE! Every gallery opening, every art show! There have been articles written about our relationship! You're no dirty little secret!"

"I never said I was."

"No?" Kurt chuckles bitterly. "You're sure implying it a great deal!"

"That's not what this is about."

"You're right. It's not. Blaine!" Kurt tosses his brush into a mug of water and starts pacing the floor. "I am a gay artist walking a very fine line."

"I'm a gay artist, too!" Blaine says, offended.

"But you're a musician. And a songwriter. Musicians are supposed to use love as their muse. Writing about your relationship is expected... unless you're Taylor Swift, apparently."

"Yeah. What's up with that?"

Kurt shrugs. "I don't know. The point is that the second I make a piece of art about our relationship in any way, shape, or form, I'm afraid that's all it will be about, no matter what I intend."

"Isn't art supposed to be subject to interpretation?"

"That's just it! If I hint that my art has anything to do with you, that will become the only interpretation. Because too many straight people see the homosexual experience as solely about the right to fuck who we want to fuck and nothing else. I make a portrait about you or dedicated to you, and after that... " Kurt's eyes leave Blaine's face, scanning the room and his canvasses all around for help making his argument. He finds a painting of a forest they hiked through in Bali and stops there "... a tree that I paint will no longer be just a tree. It will become a symbol. In a forest of evergreens, if one needle is slightly browner than the rest because the paint oxidizes weirdly or whatever, then it'll be about you and me on the skids and nothing else. And I don't want that to happen."

Blaine turns in his chair to find the painting Kurt is staring at. On the surface, it's trees, dirt, and sky, but underneath, it's much more than that. That painting of their beloved paradise is perfection - so much so that he can feel the sun on his face, the breeze kissing his cheek, smell the sunscreen on his skin. "I understand what you're saying, but... "

"But?" Kurt grinds out between his teeth. This is the frustrating thing about arguing with Blaine. Even when he says he sees Kurt's point of view, he doesn't seem to really.

And when he's not winning, he gets dismissive.

"... I think you're overthinking things a little."

"And you're not?"

"Another evade," Blaine says, pointing at him in a way reminiscent of his brother's only acting technique.

Kurt grabs the hair at his temple and pulls to keep from flinging the palette in his hand like a frisbee at Blaine's head. "Isn't it more important that you know how I feel about you? You inspire me every day! Your love, your support, your music - they feed my soul! But do I have to plaster it on a wall to make it real?"

"That's kind of an empty question because you don't! There are no paintings of me! Not even in our apartment! And I'm sorry, but I think that's very telling!"

Kurt nods, his lips pulled taut. "You're right, Blaine. Not one. And it is very telling." He drops his palette on his work table and circles the room, grabbing finished canvases and carrying them over. He positions them purposefully, placing some under UV lights he has mounted to runners on the ceiling. 

"What... what are you doing?" Blaine asks with worry, wondering if Kurt is about to do something hasty, something that will ruin his paintings, waste all those hours of work, jeopardize the money he has yet to collect for them. 

Kurt doesn't answer. 

He doesn't even look at him. 

He works silently, his shoulders rigid, his footsteps heavy as he collects paintings Blaine forgot about, paintings that had made Blaine bristle because they were of places they had been to together, things they had made a point to see only with each other, but not a one included him. Those Kurt flips upside down.

He swipes a squeeze bottle of clear liquid from his army of supplies. It could be water. It could be paint thinner. Blaine doesn't know, but he's not certain he wants to find out. He's about to leap off his seat to stop him, but Kurt switches off the overhead lights, turns on the UVs, and Blaine stops. He watches in horror as Kurt douses the flipped canvases in fluid, but the paint doesn't run. Whatever is in that bottle, it sticks, but only in certain areas, and before it dries completely, Kurt dusts the paintings with a fine powder, one that brings hidden images to life beneath the lights.

“Oh my God,” Blaine mutters, stepping back to get a better look.

Every painting, in one way or another, is of him. Of them. And not just recently. There are images of them from college, high school... middle school. There are profiles of Blaine in the negative space between flowers of one painting, and in the clouds of another. A fluorescent image of teenaged him playing guitar to a silhouette of Kurt sitting beside him. There are shadows of them dancing, singing, even a daring one of them making love up against a wall. 

And the flipped landscapes? Their vacation pictures, as it were? The glowing dust reveals portraits hiding in plain sight, painted upside down and invisible to the naked eye. All of these images, Kurt painted in ways where no one would detect them if they weren't looking for them. If they didn't know they were there.

And they are in every. single. one.

Now that he's seen this, it's safe to assume all of Kurt's works carry similar Easter eggs, even paintings long gone.

"Why... why didn't you tell me about this?" Blaine asks, too stuck on stupid to move, walk from painting to painting and examine them properly.

"Why did I need to? I love you. I've told you. What else did I need to prove?"

Blaine shakes his head slowly, ashamed of himself. What an imbecile he is! Kurt is absolutely right. He loves him! He didn't need to prove it! The hurt Blaine felt - that was on him. It wasn't Kurt's responsibility to fix it. There isn't a day that goes by where Kurt doesn't show his love to Blaine in one way or another. Blaine didn't need this. He really didn't.

And right now, he doesn't feel he deserves it.

On a side note, how wrapped up in his own crap has he been that here, in this space that they share, where proximity has forced Kurt to memorize every song Blaine has been writing for his latest album while he paints, that he never realized just how frickin' talented his boyfriend is!?

"Kurt... " Blaine finally finds the strength to take a step forward, drawn to that ghostly image of them making love. It's a simple shadow of the moment, but it evokes a powerful memory "... these are incredible. How did you... ?" Blaine expects an answer before he can finish. Kurt is rarely shy about discussing his work.

Though Blaine should use this opening to his advantage - apologize since those should have been the first words out of his mouth.

But he gets nothing.

"Kurt?" Blaine looks over his shoulder in search of his boyfriend, ready to make amends. 

But Kurt is gone.

[karliesbuzzcut]

(100) Million Dollar Lawsuit

Intro | part1 | part2 | part3 | part4

We are on the last chapter (for now) and this the most chaotic one. Mainly because it doesn’t follow any kind of chronological order (or logical sense), it’s just Russ going in circles for literal years.

But I’ll try my best to condense it for you, so all you need to do is to keep your seat belt fastened until the aircraft stops completely.

Right after the failed Ari lawsuit, Russ goes back to his one and only love: Taylor Swift 💫 And he has learned a lesson — not a good lesson, mind you, but a lesson: small claims courts won’t take him anywhere. If he really wants to punish women for not complimenting his suit, he will have to file a multi-million dollar federal lawsuit.

But, since denying sex from The Russell isn’t illegal (yet), he had to come at it from a different angle. I’m going to give Russ a chance to explain himself first.

Before you ask: yes, the following was Russell’s response to a woman thanking Taylor for visiting an 8 year-old girl who was very badly burned in an accident.

As I’ve always said, it’s okay if you aren’t fluent in Bullshit. That’s what I’m here for.

You see, Russell views human interactions as a series of transactions: I make a tweet worth liking, you go on a date with me; I take you to Olive Garden, you give me a handie for free; I put on a suit, you hug me and smile; I write you a song and sue you, you produce said song. Whenever women don’t fulfil their side of the deal, he becomes enraged.

But the reason he has such a strong hate-boner for Tay, is because she seemed to also follow his same ‘moral code’. A kid makes a cute video, she visits them at the hospital. A fan writes her a letter inviting her to their wedding, she goes to the wedding. A couple of kids fold 1989 paper cranes for Andrea, Taylor invites them to one of her concerts.

Russ thought “this is a done deal”. He didn’t write that song for Taylor because he particular liked her; he just thought she’d be the most likely artist to produce it — or at least acknowledge his existence.

I mentioned before that Russ wrote a whole-ass book about this. And I think it’s as good a time as any to talk about it. For a short amount of time, Russell chilled out about the ✨100 million dollar lawsuit ✨ but my guess is that he thought his book would get him the same results as a lawsuit? To be fair, the book is fantastic. 5/5, would recommend. 

He details the harassment he went through after suing Taylor Swift (the first time). Apparently old ladies at coffee shops would scream at him because he dared to sue Our Queen. A Mexican even pointed a gun at him (it wasn’t me, guys! Just a fellow countryman ❤️) and ordered Russ to drop the lawsuit. Computers at his job caught on literal fire because he was sent very powerful viruses. His friend Ken — who definitely exists! — was hit with a Molotov cocktail. Yep. 2016 was definitely the year people were willing to murder for Taylor Swift.

There’s also this brilliant dream sequence that involves an owl with the voice of Morgan Freeman, and Taylor’s agents guarding a tower in which she’s being held captive. 

ALSO ALSO: an entire chapter is called “SHE CHOSE HIM OVER ME”. Taylor Swift chose Joe Alwyn — a man she actually knows — over a man she’s not even aware exists. Women, amiright?

I think Russell would enjoy the Kaylor community to a certain extent. Not the lesbian part, obviously: he doesn’t trust women who don’t want to touch his peen. I just mean the baseless hatred of Joe. Look, I made a little collage of his rants ❤️ tell me if any of this sounds familiar!

You know — I’ve been joking around a lot about Russell just wanting to do the nasty with Taylor. But you know me, I like joking around. In reality Russ only wants what is fair. He wants to put a stop to all these senseless acts of kindness perpetrated by Taylor ‘The Generous’ Swift.

This isn’t about him at all, actually. Shame on you for thinking there’s an ounce of greed in that selfless little body of his. HE’S DOING THIS TO PROTECT THE KIDS WITH CANCER!

There are no ulterior motives here! This isn’t about a date!

THIS IS NOT ABOUT A DATE AT ALL GUYS STOP SAYING THAT.

I think this is my favourite post of his, because– grammatically speaking –he doesn’t specify which of them is wearing the red dress. And that sends me every goddamn time.

Anyway. The book, as magnificent as it was, got him absolutely nowhere. I know, I can’t believe it either. So he went back to focus on his lawsuit. But apparently not enough, because he didn’t serve her properly..? Now, don’t expect me to understand this, because I am very stupid (so it’s quite a good thing that I haven’t sued anybody for millions of dollars) but something about him sending the lawsuit to her old legal team..? And then trying to force UPS to serve her? I think he even said he was going to serve her in the middle of one of her concerts... but I’m guessing that didn’t go as planned 🤷‍♀️ oops.

Of course, Russie wouldn’t allow such an anticlimactic ending. Can you guess what he did? Please tell me that you can guess what he did. HE MADE ANOTHER SONG 😭❤️

This one is called ‘I Don’t Get You, Taylor Swift’. Another masterpiece that we definitely didn’t deserve 🙌

This was around April, 2019. By then I was being lured away by Kaylors, so I broke it off with Russ. I know that he filed a 3rd lawsuit against Taylor last year, which is just like the second one but hopefully this time he’ll be able to serve. And listen— I know that sounds like an awful thing to wish on Taylor, but I’d rather have Russell occupied suing a rich woman (who isn’t even going to deal with him), than a poor sex worker in Nevada. I bet TayTay would prefer that too.

Well guys, I’ve mentioned this a few times already, but I really had to be selective with the amount of information I was going to throw at you. I’ve avoided some of the shittier stuff he said or did, because I wanted to keep these posts as lighthearted as possible. I also didn’t touch on many things because they would just derail us. Like for example: one of the few lawsuits he has filed against someone who isn’t a woman, was against the state of Utah. I know, right? He’s trying to singlehandedly legalise prostitution in Utah, and even wrote a book (more like a pamphlet) brilliantly titled ‘Why I'm Making It Legal for Your 18 Year Old Daughter to Get In Bed with a Complete Stranger for Only 500 Bucks: A Short Essay from a Pro Se Litigant who is Challenging the Utah Brothel Bans’.

I copy-pasted that title guys, I swear to god.

The book is very graphic. This one I certainly do not recommend as I still suffer nightmares because of it.

Soren is a character who also had to be cut out — which is a shame because he really tried to be a good christian and help Russell. Not as in “I support you, Russell” but as in “why don’t you take a nap, Russell”. Turns out, even cinnamon rolls have a limit. Russ, of course, blames Taylor Swift for the fact that he’s losing his friends. I’m not joking — it’s an article in his lawsuit:

Greer has lost family relationships, friend connections and business connections because of the trauma of Taylor Swift. His family tells him to "get over it," resulting in shouting matches and strained relationships. Greer's friends get annoyed by his focusing on the trauma of it, when nobody knows the pain of getting rejected by a public figure — twice — and the fallout that has resulted from it.

Russell embodies that comic/meme of the little guy who puts a stick in his bicycle’s wheels and then blames Taylor Swift when he inevitably falls.

Sooooo...

Maybe someday I’ll write a post about Russ’ latest antics. I know he still posts stupid stuff on Facebook, which he later deletes. He shined especially bright at the peak of the BLM movement. He also plead guilty to electronic communications harassment— did you see that conviction coming? Yes, yes you did 😌

Regarding Taylor, I read that Russ knew someone who knew Todrick Hall — and Russ sent him a song and video for Taylor. All he got back was a Cease and Desist letter. But I’d have to do a bit of digging to get the details. I was already so overwhelmed with organising the information I was previously aware of, that I decided to leave the newer stuff for another time. You know, once I’ve had some time to inform myself... as well as a really long shower.

Since I left so much shit out, I’ll be taking questions if you have any. And if you can muster the courage to ask them. I’m weirdly proud of being some kind of Russell encyclopaedia. I might not have much going for me...

There’s no ‘but’ — that was the complete statement.

Before I go, I wanted to add this screenshot. I absolutely love it because it summarises ✨The Russell Experience✨. Russ wants Taylor to know pain, poverty and punishment. But when asked “why?” his answer is just “oh, I was ignored lol”

*none of the screenshots are mine

[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.

[musicallisto]

hii can i please get a choices/marvel/harry potter match up? my pronouns are she/her, i'm straight, im really short and pale with dark brown eyes and hair and i'm latina. I'm a slytherin, lawful good and intj and i'd describe myself as a perfectionist, introvert, shy but not necessarily quiet, i love to read, bake, draw and watch tv shows/movies, i like to think i'm pretty smart and strong but that constantly changes on a bad day lmao and about the song: this is me-tgs or the man-taylor swift

so because you said you were a latina I assumed you were a spanish speaker but I’m aware you could be brazilian as well so I’m sorry if I assumed wrong :)

I Ship You With...

Damien Nazario (Perfect Match)

During the times he was still a private investigator, he would often times bring cases home to work on them during the night, and he would always value your input on them - you are very good at guessing the motives and actions of his suspects by putting yourselves in their shoes

You two would be constantly speaking Spanish to mess with the rest of the group - even Sloane can’t get this one

“mirálos intentando averiguar lo que estamos diciendo” “probablemente piensan que los estamos insultando”

The perfectionist trait of your personality is one he can easily relate to. He can also get very overwhelmed by his cases, and by everything he does, so much, because he wants everything to be absolutely neat and perfect. There’s so space for improvisation or imprecision. That’s what allows you to never miss a single detail in any crime scene and to always catch the culprits in time, but at times it gets a bit much to handle, the pressure and fear of making the tiniest mistake. But you’re there for each other in these circumstances

Don’t tell anyone but I think Damien would not be far from a Swiftie

Or at least you’d be able to have impromptu karaoke nights in your apartment to her songs, and he’d never mind (actually, he’d belt her last album like his life depends on it

Peter Parker

I bet Peter’s Spanish is absolutely horrendous but he would try his hardest for you, and because he finds something cute and intimate in sharing a language that others don’t

After a few months of assiduous studying he would get better, though. It’s the most seriously you’ve ever seen him work for anything

Whenever you go on missions together, Tony always asks you to take care of Peter and watch him because he believes you’re much more responsible than him (he’s not entirely wrong, and you are known for not taking stupid risks, or at least less than Peter).

Being high school students both, you invariably get invited to many parties, and even if they’re not really your scene (to neither of you) you agree to go there, make a momentary appearance to salute your friends and then disappear into an empty bedroom if there’s too much social draining going on

You’d then proceed to take stupid Buzzfeed quizzes along the lines of “which Avenger are you?” and he’d never get himself, which would infuriate him each time

“why do I keep on getting this Starlord idiot? this test is broken” “I don’t know, might be something in the name?” and he’d huff with a small smile, before ruffling your hair to signal that he it was his way of winning the argument

Regulus Black (Marauders Era)

It’s a difficult task, to crack the shell of timidness and apparent broodiness that surrounds Regulus Black, easily the most mysterious student in the entire house of Slytherin

At first, you wouldn’t have deemed Remulus the most charming Black brother. Obviously, when Sirius is the loudest and brashest student in Gryffindor, there’s no shame in finding in him some charisma, some enchanting light. But as you get closer to Regulus, you discover that beneath all this gruffness hides a sensitive soul deeply scarred by decades of living in an abusive and self-righteous prison.

Your best dates would be spent together in a quiet of a room where a fire is cracking and you’re both reading a book, or he is and you’re drawing, and there’s no words exchanged but none are needed

He’d think you’re the most beautiful girl alive, not only for your looks, but also because of the kindness you show him despite his nature. You’re most beautiful when you concentrate on something, for example when you’re baking a cake and are careful to pour the exact proportions of flour and milk so you don’t mess it up, and it melts his heart to see so much care put into a simple task

It’s an exact representation of how much you care about him and how tenderly you treat him; and he treats you the exact same way

[theassofwonder]

Oh!! 1, 2, 3 of the Fun meta asks for writers. I would love to know the answers to these questions

Fun meta asks for writers!

1. Tell us about your current project(s)

* ACOTS, obviously- I swear to fuck I’m almost done with part 6! I know I keep saying that but I really do mean it!! I broke 2k last night (this morning?) and I’m in the homestretch! I can see the end in sight (literally, since I wrote the end of the chapter before I wrote most of the middle)!! And then after part 6 there’s only like three more chapters. I started writing  ACOTS only a little over a year ago and I’m more than halfway through? Fuckin mindblowing.

* I started writing more of the we’re sick (like animals) verse because I love it and technically the beginning of what is published was supposed to be in the middle? But then it was going to be waaay too long so I cut the ‘beginning’ (but still have it in a google doc that I check in on)

(more under the cut bc I actually have a fair bit of wip babies)

* not hockey rpf but I started writing a Teen Wolf fanfic? Despite never watching the show? So my only reference for the fic has been other fanfics. lol. It’s called Scotty Doesn’t Know based on the song by the same name and it’s just a mess of half-written snippets that I’m going to have to glue together at some point

* I want to eventually get around to rewriting (and then finishing? maybe?) my two destiel fics Midnight Blue and Holy Ground. Fun fact- I started writing both of those on Wattpad before I found out about ao3 and every chapter title of HG is a taylor swift song. But they’re both currently up on ao3 if anyone wants to give em a look!

* I have several OG fiction novels I’m trying to write as well. the first one has the working title of Messier 30 (it’s a star cluster near the Capricorn constellation) and it’s supposed to be book 1 in a trilogy. The main character used to be named Charlene-call-me-Charlie Elizabeth Roman but I suddenly had a stroke of ACOTS-fueled need to make her half-russian and changed her name to Anastasyia Viktoriya. Her name/ethnicity change shouldn’t change the plotline itself but I guess we’ll see. the second work is set during a zombie apocalypse with flashbacks to the B.Z. (Before Zombies) era and the early days of the apocalypse. the main character’s mom accidentally created the virus and was Patient Zero so MC carries a fuckton of guilt and also she’s gay and her wife was one of the first ones to go since she was Mom’s second on the project

2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing

ACOTS: copied straight from the outline :) {The Russian word for uncle is ‘дядя’. It sounds almost identical to ‘dada’. Nikita calls him ‘дядя Sid’ one day and Sid just starts bawling, and then Nikita’s bawling because Sid is bawling and there’s so much tears and snot it’s so gross. Nikita is two years old and therefore has no idea that Sid is crying because he doesn’t just want to be Nikita’s “uncle” he wants to be his dad. It’s a good thing both Geno and Anna are old enough to understand. And reassure him that of course he’s also going to be Nikita’s father, what’s the point of him being with Geno and Anna if he’s not?? Sid admits that while he and Kathy didn’t officially break up in 2010 like the rumors said, they did take a break. Because Sid told Kathy that he was starting to have feelings for Geno. Even though he said it didn’t mean anything because he was with Kathy and he loved her and would never do anything to hurt her} and then everyone basically confesses their love for each other and there’s still a lot of crying but this time it’s happy!!

ALSO APPARENTLY I HAVE NINE CHAPTERS OUTLINED?? NOT TEN?? SO AFTER PART 6 IS DONE I’LL BE TWO-THIRDS DONE

WSLA: Sid and Geno getting together and sneaking around and not being subtle at all but everyone humors them anyway

SDK: this scene where Stiles’ dad tells him he knows he and Derek have been dating, which i made up for the specific context for this line: {“Look,” his dad says. “Scott may not have the sense God gave an ant but I haven’t been Sheriff this long just because of my dashing good looks.”}

MB: there’s a scene near the end where a character from Cas’ past comes in and shoots Cas and Mary knocks the shooter out with a cast iron frying pan and John has mega heart eyes and that’s where the reveal that Dean and Cas are married was supposed to happen

HG: I was kinda into crackfic when i started writing this so that’s why it’s like that in the beginning, but the scene i can’t wait for is heartbreaking and not in the fun way. I joke a lot about being super emotional but seriously. i cried during the outline for this scene. I love it so much.

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need?

well I guess the good thing is I almost always write The Scene first and then I have to write the setup and context. which still kinda sucks, but at least it’s more motivation to write all the other nonsense- and then sometimes I write something in the middle of all the nonsense that almost rivals The Scene?? and that’s my favorite part about writing. 

[praphit]

Gretel & Hansel: White people, hear me!

I know, I know, some of y'all were hoping that my next review would be Taylor Swift's "Miss Americana". 

I'm sorry to disappoint you. Why and how is she still making movies anyway? I thought that everyone associated with "Cats" had been banned from Hollywood.

Now, it WOULD be cool, if Taylor got involved in Horror. I'm thinking that a bunch of horror monsters could get together to track her down; kinda like a contest. They would, you know... do their thing to her, and then bring her back from the dead in the sequel, and repeat the process. Every now and then, they could throw in Justin Bieber or someone else with his same level of annoyance. BOOM! Franchise! So, donate to Praphit Productions (millions), so I can make that happen. I'll just CG Taylor Swift in, if I have to; I'm sure she'd be ok with that.

Just picture Jason Voorhees or Kanye West chasing her.

No, people, I'm here to talk to y'all about Hansel & Gretel!

No, no, no, I'm sorry! "Gretel and Hansel!"

I almost forgot about that blow up in their studio. Y'all remember that?

Sophia Lillis' (who plays Gretel - SHE’S GREAT IN THIS-BTW) first day on the set was raw! 

She walked up to the director and was like "Bleep this bleep! Who is Hansel? Who the bleep is he?! No one knows that actor! What is he, like 5 years old? Bleep him! How is his name first?! So, a woman can't lead a man, huh??! It's always gotta be Hansel first, right?! And what always happens?! That witch bitch always tries to eat them! Bleep that! Y'all know who I is! I'm Sophia bleeping Lillis! I was in "It" one AND two. What has "Sammy Leakey" (playing Hansel) been in??!

Not a damned thing! I want my name first! You will put it first or so help me God, I will UNLEASH THE FURY!"

Director (Oz Perkins): "I actually like that idea"

SL: "I don't give a bleep what you like! Just make it happen!" 

Then, she went to her trailer, and when she came back out, it was "Gretel & Hansel".

(Hansel’s not even in the shot. Lillis was too raw for him.)

Let's see if Gretel fairs better in this story, now that she's getting the chance to lead.

We all know this Brothers Grimm story. There's a family (I don't know what Gretel & Hansel's last name is... we'll just say "Shakur"). So, the Shakur Family was struck by a famine in the land. Stuff happens, and G & H end up off on their own, in the woods, and eventually meet up with a witch, who later tries to eat them.

White people, hear me! Are you listening? STOP GOING INTO THE WOODS! Seriously, STOP! I'm trying to save you. Black people know better, but y'all... smh. I know y'all like to go hiking, and camping, and taking selfies on mountain tops and shit, but PLEASE... STOP! Nothing good is waiting for you out there!

Quit going into the woods to get footage of alleged monsters/spirits. Quit going into the woods to spend the night in cabins. Quit going into the woods to party on the anniversary of the night that 12 people were mysteriously murdered in those same woods. STOP!

JUST STOP! DAMN!

Some of you might be thinking, "Well maybe Gretel will make it. Maybe now that she's leading the duo, things will be different." Nope, she's white... *sigh* so we all know what she and Hansel did...  went right into the woods.

This movie is mainly from Gretel's perspective. Right from the jump, we see Gretel being pimped out by her mama. Gretel of course declines to become a professional hoe, but when she comes back to her mama for a possible different direction in life, Mama is like "Would it have killed you to get on your knees for your family?! We're starving!"

I know - Mom of the Year.

Dad isn't even around. I may have missed something, but I don't remember where he was, or if maybe he ran away, a long time ago. One of those "Daddy went to get a pack of cigs, and never came back" scenarios. He may be off in a land flowing with Big Macs and Fries, Idk. Or maybe, being that his "selfish" daughter wouldn't put-out, he decided to get to work on the corner himself. Who knows where he was in this movie??

Gretel was def tough though. And she loved her brother! She was very protective of him. There is a scene where there's some sort of vampire creature chasing down Hansel, and Gretel stands up to the creature. That's the type of character that she is in this movie. She's smart, tough, and though sometimes hard on her bro, she loves him very much.

Hansel on the other hand is annoying as shit. And Dumb! Man, is he dumb! I'm surprised that we never see Gretel slap him. But, she is always able to compose herself in the midst of her annoying brother, and keep the journey going. She even calms him down at one point with some drugs. They end up eating some shrooms on their trip. Now, THAT'S love, people! Seeing someone in need of calming the bleep down, and offering them some good shit. What's a road trip without a moment when the group gets high??

There's a Lando-looking character that they meet along the way. 

He doesn't have much of a role in this movie. I'm not saying it's because he's black, BUT he's a fascinating, noble character, who's black and barely in the movie. And they do not trust him at all. I'm not saying it's because he's black... you know what?? - YES! Yes I am saying that!

He saves their lives, offers them food and shelter, and gives them specific instructions that will keep them safe. But, after that (the only character so far that has had G & H's best interests in mind), Gretel immediately questions his motives. White women, hear me! If a black man willingly sticks out his neck for you, IN THE DARKNESS, in order to save YOUR life, that's a man that you can trust. Cuz we (black men) all know, that if we try to save a white woman out in public (even if we succeed), there's a good chance that the cops will still swing by to shoot us. They're thinking just like Gretel is in this movie - "I know it LOOKS like they saved her, but... can we really trust him? - let's shoot him just in case." Granted, this Landoish character sends them off (again with instructions for their safety). They had no quarrels about leaving (and quickly).

So, they runaway from the compassionate black man, who just saved them, and they meet an old lady (the witch) who has black fingers, and house smells a lil like death... and they say to themselves "Let's sleep here!" Ain't that some shit??! 

White people, HEAR ME!

STOP!

They don't even question her black fingers, they just let her handle their food. I question people of whom I don't know, with normal fingers, handling my food, but... I guess that's just me.

Then, the rest of the story is legend.

The production design in this movie is absolutely amazing! If this film had no dialogue, and was just silent, it still would have been a beautiful movie (despite the cannibalism:)

The plot, I felt, was secondary to the cinematography.

Some of you might say, "Well that's nice and all, but is the movie scary? Does the witch, at some point, rev-up a chainsaw, and chase the two kids around her house?" No. "Ok, but does the movie, at some point, have little, pale Asian kids making creepy noises at H & G while they're trying to sleep?" NO! "Yeah, but is there some sort of human centipede action happening in the basement of the witch, and she tries to..."

NO! NO! HELL NO! What's wrong with y'all?!

No, none of that. The story that The Brothers Grimm have painted is horrifying enough. Famine and crappy parenting, leading to witch who wants to eat you... I'd say that's all that's required; the director knows this.

They don't need to use any gimmicks, just the same story (pretty much), a lil dark magic, the mentioned cinematography, and well-placed spooky music keep the movie in a consistent place of dread.

I think RT got this one wrong (59%). I don't have much bad to speak of, concerning this movie. I can't give it an A grade, due to it being a copy of a story that we've seen copied many times before. Plus, there are some ending issues I have with it, that I'll get to in a sec. BUT, this film is a hell of a B grade :)

SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!

SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!!!!!

SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I WARNED YOU!

A few things:

Soooooo, Gretel has some sort of connection to the witch that is never explained. Apparently, she has within her, the same powers as the witch.

She ends up sending her bro off to Lord knows where. She sends him off on a horse that she says she SPOKE TO, and he (the horse) will get Hansel there (where? who knows??) safely. So, she's talking the animals now?? When did she pick-up that skill? And where the bleep did she even get a horse?

There's some super grease that her and the witch use to do magic, that is never explained.

Now, none of this took away from my enjoyment of the film, but... still though.

There's a message of false empowerment at the end. Like I said, she abandons her brother, so that she can... fulfill her destiny or something. She has dark magic in her, but she is convinced that she'll use it for good. Like I said, Gretel is a SMART character... what happened to all of that smart? It's like saying "Hey, I have this STD, but instead of tending to it, I'm going to use my STD for good. It's going to be hard, but I've gotta be strong."

WHAT?!

I said "false empowerment". The movie isn't painting a picture of this being a good thing, but the "false" part is subtle enough to where people could walk away thinking it's an empowering message.

You abandoned your brother to become a witch! But, maybe I'm not being fair. Perhaps Gretel will be just fine. Throughout the history of human beings, we've had many people who were in power, and who thought that not allowing their power to be checked was the brave and noble thing to do. I think those times in history all worked out well right??

I could have added some pics to accentuate my last statement, but I feel it might have been a little too real:)

So, instead I'll leave y'all with this slightly less horrifying pic

... and bid you adieu.

STAY OUT OF THE WOODS!

[proflazarus]

Cats Review...

3.4/10

Soundtrack: 9/10

Whatever they thought they were doing right, they messed up. Big time. The local newspaper had a review which talked about the movie not being finished but put in cinemas anyways. That is most definitely what it looked and sounded like.

First things first: I wanted to watch this movie to A) have my own opinion about it and B) because Jennifer Hudson is one hell of a singer. A) will be answered in this text. B) is a fact, but there’s still stuff to say about that.

I listened to all the promo performances of “Memories” and was so very impressed, the emotion in her singing exceeded all I wished for. The soundtrack version sounds as awesome as it should be. Nonetheless I do have a very different opinion about what I heard in the cinema. It might have been the cinemas fault but I have the feeling it wasn’t. The belting sounded so off that one had to grimace and even my non musical parents (with whom I watched the movie) commented on it afterwards. My mother conceded that the soundtrack version I showed her afterwards is by far superior. In total the whole soundtrack sounds a lot better than what we heard in the movie.

(The second problem with the songs is a locality based one. I’m German, I live in Germany, I live in a great city with a lot of different cinemas, with different movie language versions. There’s OV (Original Version), completely dubbed (including the songs 🤮) and dubbed dialogue but original songs. We chose the last version (there’s different levels of English in my family) so while we got the English songs we also had German subtitles during those songs. And those subtitles were just plain wrong. While the moon was sung to as “she” the subtitles told one that the moon is in fact male. And some subtitles made no sense altogether. If I am very lucky (sarcasm!) I will watch the movie again in OV, so maybe that will make me like it a bit more.)

About the actual movie: I felt the start was a very slow one (my father thought that as well, even if he didn’t say so, his falling asleep spoke volumes), it didn’t really pick up anything just until right after the big middle of the movie number (which was clapped and cheered by one single woman a couple of rows in front of us, she was fully committed, so that when no one joined in, she still proceeded to cheer for a good minute).

Most cats that got introduced with their own song where (to me) rather annoying (especially James Corden’s, Jason’s Derulo and Rebel Wilson’s cats). I forgot most names after about 5 secs so they’re all called by their fur colour or theirs actors.

Every time a cat/actor raised a single leg while laying on their side I’d have rather seen Tom Hiddleston’s arse once again (that’s a thing I do not need to see again, I wasn’t even out looking for it, it was just sprung upon me for about 10 times and I didn’t even watch a lot of his work), when I say every time it was exactly twice once it was Rebel Wilson and once it was Dame Judi Dench. As I said even those two times where way too much. The “cat-like” movements weren’t necessary. It didn’t really look cat-like it looked like a group of Kindergarten children that played zoo or something.

Now to the CGI which is apparently so very hated. I will say that it is in terms of technical prowess a job fairly well done. The fur looked fluffy and mostly natural. The longer haired cats fur didn’t really move naturally, aka it didn’t move at all. The ears and tails looked good though. The movement was smooth and naturally looking. The one cat that didn’t look good was Idris Elba — Macavity, the Moriarty of Cats. His body has a slightly shiny purely brown fur. Which seems to not fit underneath the head. His nuclear green eyes didn’t look evil only somewhat over coloured. Going back to the cat-like movements, while I thought them (as mentioned) unnecessary now that I think back, Macavity didn’t do them in his final performance and that felt even weirder.

About Macavity’s storyline, there wasn’t really one, it seemed to be a punchline without a joke. His storyline got sort of explained after his evil doing was already committed. The much hyped Taylor Swift, who played his right hand woman, drugged all the cats with catnip (which also had no explanation, and is not a universal thing!) showed up for approximately 5 minutes, sang one forgettable song and vanished. I cannot in fact recall if a name was mentioned.

I was very happy about Francesca Hayward — Victoria the white cat. A well rounded performance in both dancing (no surprise as a ballet dancer) and acting with a good singing voice as well. Sir Ian McKellen is a master of his craft even as a CGI cat.

The movie left me with many questions: Did they actually think that this was a good idea? How did they get Dame Judi Dench, Sir Ian McKellen and Idris Elba to be in this movie? (I mean I know that James Corden and Rebel Wilson are sluts for these kind of things, but the others?!) What is the Heaviside Layer? (translated into German as “the spherical room”?!?) And is the message of the musical really “die and be reborn as a champion”?

I am unsure whether I want to know the answers and whether it was worth making the movie in general. I do know that it wasn’t worth the 7,70€ I payed to go see this train wreck in the cinema. So if you think about going to see the movie question your motivations. If it is purely to hear Jennifer Hudson sing, listen to the promo performances and the soundtrack. You can do that for free and without leaving your house. If you want to see what the hubbub it is all about, think twice and look when and where the cinema tickets are the cheapest.

[clarythericebot]

why “London Boy” might be the most touching song in Lover

you can’t take “London Boy” seriously (at face value, at least). that’s apparent as soon as the “we can go driving in...on my scoot-ah” line is dropped, a humorous whiplash from the comparably somber songs “Cornelia Street” and “Death by a Thousand Cuts”. and then the song begins, and oh my god, it’s a bop.

a bop about the british. a freaking meme song from a taylor swift album. i loved it.

gOD i LovE the eNgLiSh

BABE DON’T THREATEN ME WITH A GOOD TIME

and i know, hilarity doesn’t connote meaninglessness. satire, right? deeper meanings can be embedded. my sister posited that it can be a funny take about cross-cultural differences within a relationship. someone on tumblr said it was commentary on the gossip of who she was dating, back when she was between dudes (“so i guess all the rumors are true!”). another interesting opinion (also from tumblr) is that it’s the manifested form of everyone’s secret fantasy to tour England, land of castles and fairies and Harry Potter, and date a cute british boy the likes of Hiddleston or Holland. (boy, i understand.) and all of them are great perspectives!!!

but that’s besides the point. the most touching reason that “London Boy” could be the most heartwarming song in Lover is:

her boyfriend is british.

and i know, everyone and their pet cat already KNOWS that. but you don’t understand!!!

this is a meme song!!! and regardless of what taylor swift’s motives and vision when she wrote it, regardless of the possible deeper meaning or who this might even be about, she most definitely uses the song to tease her boyfriend.

it is the quirkiest, most honest articulation of YOU SHOULD TAKE IT AS A COMPLIMENT THAT I GOT DRUNK AND MADE FUN OF THE WAY YOU TALK

she is making fun of the way he talks. in song form.

is that not adorable?

and she is comfortable doing it. she wouldn’t have released it if she wasn’t. (the picture’s actually a really funny one, if you think about it. imagine your SO creating a song that had her imitating your accent and your speech patterns, and then she releases it and gets millions upon millions of listens. some people are even getting offended about it. SURREAL.)

and it’s cool because, well, she’s effectively letting us in on an in-joke; as opposed to telling us the fact of it.

most of the time, she tells us about a relationship. as tight-lipped as she is about joe alwyn in real life (she reportedly said her relationship with him is not up for discussion), she’s happy to show us at least one aspect of it through her music. the light-hearted, playful part.

it’s extra sweet if you take into account the song “Stay Stay Stay” from her Red album. purportedly, this song isn’t about anyone in particular—it is taylor swift daydreaming about what the ideal relationship would be like, even when times are hard.

you took the time to memorize me

my fears, my hopes, and my dreams

I JUST LIKE HANGING OUT WITH YOU

just wanna be with yoooou!

but you carry all my groceries and now i’m always laughing!!!

if nothing else, “London Boy” is about laughter. it’s about having adventures in a fantastical city and blowing it hilariously out of proportion by mentioning the big, cheesy names and details.

it’s about a relationship coloured by fun.

and it’s not hypothetical. the song’s a glorious joke she shares with a person that she’s in a happy, long-term relationship with.

i’m really glad it exists.

[betweenironyandsilver]

yoooooo do all the song asks! Or all the ones you feel like doing. I LOVE a song rec

thanks!

your favorite song a dustland fairytale by the killers

the first song you remember loving probably something from disney, i used to sing reflection from mulan all the time

a song that reminds you of summer cruel summer by taylor swift

a song you haven’t heard in years nothing’s coming to mind

a song you can relate to easy to love by the jezebels

a song that reminds you of your favorite book sirens from the jane eyre musical

a song that makes you want to dance tie me down by gryffin & elley duhé

the best song from your favorite album see #1

a song that makes you want to cry casimir pulaski day by sufjan stevens

a song that makes you feel young emily by mika

a song that means a lot to you agnes by glass animals

the last song you listened to scholastic sanctuary from the his dark materials soundtrack

the last song you heard on the radio i don’t really listen to the radio

the last cd/album you bought the newest little shop of horrors cast album lmao

a song to listen to on rainy days earnestly yours by keaton henson

a chill song ink by coldplay

an upbeat song mr right by a rocket to the moon

a song that gets stuck in your head london boy by taylor swift

your favorite song from a movie el tango de roxanne from moulin rouge

your favorite song from a musical oh god this is way too hard…i cannot possibly choose…i’d have to pick a favorite banger and a favorite emotional song etc etc.

a song that reminds you of the moon neptune by sufjan stevens

a song by your favorite artist/band flesh and bone by the killers

a song from the year you were born give me one reason by tracy chapman

the number one song on your birthday apparently it was macarena LOL

your favorite love song tell her this by del amitri

your favorite christmas song im such a sucker for silent night

one song that starts with each letter of your name come on then by lily allen, hannah by freelance whales, rearview by bad suns, i bet on losing dogs by mitski, see my eyes by dwntwn, talk by hozier, i dont mind by defeater, nobody by hozier, american money by børns

two songs with the same/similar titles that you like be still by the fray and be still by the killers

a cover that you like better than the original song yellow by katherine ho

a song with really good lyrics be by hozier

a song with an amazing beat both of the chants from hadestown

a song that you associate with the color yellow ...yellow by coldplay

your favorite song with an action in the title (jump, dance, etc.) jackboot jump by hozier

your favorite acoustic song the diary of jane (acoustic) by breaking benjamin

a song that motivates you work this body by walk the moon

your favorite song you’ve heard live watching wait for me from hadestown live made me straight up ascend

a song that reminds you of your best friend under pressure by queen

your favorite song from childhood no idea, i just really liked a bunch of musicals

a song you always sing along to my singing voice is a travesty so…none

your favorite song in a language different from your native one 光るなら by goose house