#and especially in light of ttpd

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Randomly thinking about “tolerate it” (narrator voice: it was not random) and how under the cloak of fiction it is ostensibly inspired by works like “Rebecca” (which Taylor said she read during the 2020 lockdowns I believe?), with the line of “you’re so much older and wiser” indicating that the speaker is significantly younger and inexperienced compared to the person she’s speaking to and a pretty direct reference to the plot of the book.

But I saw something somewhere once that stuck with me about how it might not be referring to relative age between the characters but chronological age as in the passage of time in a relationship. And that made me think about how in a contemporary context, it might not necessarily be referencing an actual age gap between the two characters, but rather a sarcastic or cynical response to the man’s claims that he has matured (“you’re so much older and wiser [than you were before/than you were when we met/etc.]”), which then made me think about that line in relation to the woman. And that it could be taken like, “you act like you’ve matured so much in our time together and like you know everything, while I’m supposedly still stuck as the girl I was when we first met.”

Which then made me think of the “right where you left me” of it all and did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen time went on for everyone else she won’t know it and the bit in Miss Americana where she talks about how celebrities get frozen at the age at which they got famous, and how she’s had to play catch up in a lot of ways not just in her emotional growth but kind of in general. (Which also made me wonder if she’s ever been called out for immaturity/lack of curiosity/lack of education about things in her life…)

Which then made me think about the rest of the song, and @taylortruther’s posts yesterday about “seven” and “Daylight” and the way Taylor idealizes her youth yet contrasts it with an almost sinister reality in its wake, and the line, “I sit by the door like I’m just a kid,” because the discussion raised that her relationship let her recapture some of the childlike joy and wonder she’d lost. So this line is a double-edged sword: the speaker sits by the door with childlike hope that the person will come home and cherish her, but on the darker side, feels like the child dealing with the monsters she doesn’t have names for yet and the feelings of isolation she felt as she aged.

I’m not saying the song is necessarily autobiographical; like most of the songs on folkmore, it’s clearly a fictionalized story based on media she’d consumed and created, but we know a lot of the fictional songs were infused with her own feelings and experiences and… This idea swirling in my head picked up steam and now I kind of can’t stop thinking about it. Sorry but I’m a little obsessed now.

Like maybe it might start to shed light on why she identified so strongly with the novel in the first place…

[annamatix]

so long london is adam and juliette's song

[meaningtotellyou]

this is nothing that hasn’t already been said but i love that guilty as sin takes us through the internal battle of good and bad and right and wrong. especially “he sent me Downtown Lights.. i hadn’t heard it in a while.. am i allowed to cry?” being the last line in the song. it’s like yes i’m in bed giving in to sexual fantasies about someone else who isn’t my partner BUT i’ve been given no other choice. my partner isn’t giving me attention, the relationship is falling apart, and i’m miserable. so yes i’m probably doing something wrong here but my hand is being all but forced. am i allowed to be unhappy? am i allowed to cry? and what else can i do from here but this? ugh i love it so much. guilty as sin is so sexy sad and i love that sexy sad is a common ttpd theme

[flusteredmoonn]

the tortured poets department; james potter

summary: "sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me," in which after years of james pining after lily, he finally falls for someone else.

tags: (SFW), fluff, drabble??, fast paced, angst, probably ooc!james, gryffindor!reader, she/her pronouns, third person y/n. proofread by @cosmicbolter

words: 1.5k+

ttpd tracklist. request.

pewter cauldrons fizzled as each of the students observed their concoctions, referring to the book of advanced potions. not james potter, though.

"hey! evans," he called across the classroom, drawing the attention of the auburn haired girl, whose head snapped up at the call of her surname. "do we add the tentacula before or after the lacewig flies," he shouted across the room, dismissing both the stares of his peers and the reprimands from the professor. he knew venomous tentacula wasn't an ingredient in the focus draught they were brewing, yet he wanted her to instruct him anyways.

lily looked down at her book of advanced potions, carefully scanning the print for the answer. her gaze resumed on the boy with a slight pinch in her brow, "tentacula isn't in this one, james," her smile was unsure, although she was quick to resume her work when the boy smiled and nodded at her in thanks. heat rose through her cheeks as she felt the intrusion that was the lingering gaze of her peers.

james also seamlessly resumed his brewing, his glasses sliding down his nose as he used the iron spoon to stir the stew of plants before him. he ignored the loud teasing from sirius which followed his interaction with the red head.

"oooh, she didn't shut you down there mate, she must be into you," the amusement in his tone was palpable, especially with the laughter it had elicited from both remus and peter. the latter was quick to slap a hand over his mouth, though, with a coy smile before the stout boy continued his brew. "pads, stop," heat rose up his body, pink dusting his freckled cheeks.

"oh, look i'm james! 'hey evans'" he made an unintelligible sound, ''i wonder what goes in this potion which i have the page open to on my book" he continued to mock james, making his voice exaggeratedly deep. behind them, y/n brought her hand up to her mouth to cover her mouth and suppressing a laugh at the friend groups antics. the curly haired boy heard movement behind him and glanced over his shoulder amusedly, watching her clear entertainment and smirking to himself before tuning back in to his long haired friend's continuous teasing.

thankfully, before he could get too carried away, the professor had directed the class with a new instruction, distracting sirius enough to forget he was teasing his friends.

"now class!" the professor's voice boomed off of the walls, ricocheting off of the flagstone floor as he continued to speak, "you should now be at the stage of collecting a dugbog tongue from the table up the front and adding it to your cauldrons– which should now be a light blue colour," the old man smiled, gesturing for the class to move onto the next stage of their brew.

still smug with a freshly pampered ego, james sauntered over to the front of the class, though not before beckoning lily's attention. confidently, with his longterm crushes eyes on him, he reached into the basket containing the deceased tongues bravely before he jokingly held it in front of his own mouth and acting as though it were his own. he continued to mime with the teachers back to him.

faint giggling could be heard from across the room, however, not from lily. the boy looked across the room to see y/n equally as amused as before, which only egged him on. he continued his antics, ending up sliding across the front of the classroom in an attempt to mock the beast whose tongue they were using, and ignoring the reprimands of his friends who at this point were over the dramatic display. the boy got carried away, locking eyes with y/n and leaning backwards on the table at the front of the room holding the ingredients. a deafening bang echoed through the room as james accidentally knocked the exposed supplies off of the desk.

"potter!" professor slughorn shouted.

the notorious chime of the clocktower bell ringing through the school sounded as professor slughorn dismissed his potions class, rolling his eyes at the mess left behind from james. chatter immediately erupted through the room as friends reunited with one another and made their way to their next classes. the group of gryffindor girls gathered together, laughing as they walked.

"saved by the bell huh, james," marlene mckinnon snickered as the boy walked past her with his friends. he stuck his tongue out at her in rebellion. childishly, the boy whipped round and stuck his tongue out at the girl and her group of friends. "he's ridiculous," she muttered to the group as they watched him run off after his friends.

"i can't believe he did that, lils, and all for your attention," dorcas added, murmurs filled the corridors as students now hurried to their next classes.

"i dunno, y/n seemed pretty taken by him," she shrugged. "hm?" the girls attention was beckoned from the back of the group as they rounded the corner and entered their transfiguration classroom.

"i just said that you seemed pretty intrigued by james today, is all," the girl repeated, sighing as she sunk into her seat. "i mean i can't believe he even thought to act that way, it's unprecedented," she continued with a laugh as marlene slid into her seat next to dorcas, very evidently mocking the bespectacled boys former actions as the professor entered the classroom whilst y/n slid into a seat by herself.

"take your seats, boys," professor mcgonagall spoke sternly, looking to the rowdy group of boys. as if they were small children who had been told off, they immediately found seats across the room and looked ready to listen. james sat himself down next to y/n wordlessly, merely flashing her a momentary smile before giving his full attention to the beginning of the lecture.

professor mcgonagall began to charm the chalkboard to draw various detailed diagrams of the topics she was discussion, the sound blending into that of the scrawling of quill on parchment. eventually the professor had ordered the class to move onto the independent work, urging them to talk quietly, if they felt the need to talk at all.

casually, remus looked across the room to where james sat, intrigued as he hadn't taken his usual spot next to him. and sitting away from where lily had been situated. but the boy smirked as he watched james deliberate over what to say to y/n.

"hey, do you know what we–"

"what do you want from me james," the girl spoke suddenly, a certain firmness in her tone as she turned to look at him.

dumbfounded, the boy stared at her for a moment, his jaw ajar, "uhm, nothing?" he sounded unsure of himself, "i just wanted to know if you knew what we were supposed to do for this question, he pointed to a row of text in their book on transfiguration, glancing up to see professor mcgonagall transfixed by marking first years papers stoically.

"but why did you sit next to me, potter," her voice entirely coated in sourness, clearly unamused by his attempt to be comedic, "shouldn't you still be bothering poor lily, with futile attempts for her attention," there is was, he could practically hear her eyes rolling from where he was sat.

"i wanted to sit with you, i didn't realise it was such an issue," he huffed, nervously shooting a look to his friends.

"but why, why the sudden interest–" she cut herself off, "you know i'm failing this class right, like you can't cheat off of me and succeed, yeah," she laughed, clearly finding a new humour in the situation.

"i didn't come here to cheat off of you," he looked at her, entirely serious, "and i haven't been annoying evans nearly as much as i usually do, i'm self aware now!" he exclaimed confidently, sitting up and puffing his chest.

"pfft."

"i am," he defended himself at her laughter, a smile of his own weaving its way across his features. she turned to face him now, his expression faltering slightly at the directness of her attention on him. "so what'dya call that stunt in potions, where you were clearly chasing after her attention," her brow quirked up.

"i wasn't," he mumbled, turning his head away and talking into the shoulder facing away from her. momentarily, he caught the watchful eyes of his friends, before whipping his head back around to her when she hummed inconclusively. he repeated himself, watching several emotions flash across her face in a split second, urging him to elaborate.

"the ship between us, i think, has sailed," he paused, in thought, "i think there's something i'd rather explore with someone else'.

[midnightsslut]

Since you’re so good at connecting songs (I’m still in awe about how you made me realize that atw and illicit affairs are about the same subject), what is your most big brain/audacious/out there theory/connection about Taylor’s songs?

first of all, thank you! i have to say, I’m not the first one to get the idea that there are parallels between those two songs, but I’d never really sat down with them line by line. this ask really got me wondering because i feel like there are a lot of parallels I can think of but idk how out there they are. here is one that i don’t see people talking about a lot:

coney island feels like the other perspective of the story in you’re losing me, especially when you consider that taylor asked matt berninger about writing songs that deal with their own relationship issues with his wife. of course, coney island and you’re losing me were written at different points in their relationship, but the sentiment appears to be the same.

this got long, so I’m putting a cut here.

first of all, here is how taylor described coney island in her evermore interview with zane lowe (around the 37-minute mark)

The perspective I was coming from was like a male perspective of regret or guilt after a lifetime of apattern of behavior, and i've been kind of touching on sort of things like that on the song tolerate it where there's this person one side of the relationship who's felt like they've just… Their partner's been there, but they haven't *been* there. They've been there, but they're just sitting next to each other, eating breakfast, but they haven't they haven't been there […] I really loved writing, ‘we were like the mall before the internet / it was the one place to be.’ I was trying to reflect on the coney island visual of a place where thrills were once sought, you know, a place where once it was all electricity and magic, and now the lights are out, and you're looking at it, thinking ‘what did I do?’

‘break my soul in two, looking for you, but you’re right here’ —> ‘you say “I don’t understand,” I say “I know you don’t”’

‘and if this is the long haul, how’d we get here so soon?’ —> ‘how long could we be a sad song before we’re too far gone to bring back to life?’

‘did I close my fist around something delicate? did I shatter you?’ —> ‘my face was gray, but you wouldn’t admit that we were sick.’

‘over and over, lost again with no surprises / disappointments, close your eyes / and it gets colder and colder when the sun goes down’ —> ‘i’m getting tired even for a phoenix / always rising from the ashes, mending all her gashes’

‘what’s a lifetime of achievement if I pushed you to the edge, but you were too polite to leave me?’ —> ‘fighting in only your army, frontlines, don’t you ignore me / I’m the best thing at this party’

‘do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there?’ —> ‘and the air is thick with loss and indecision’

‘will you forgive my soul when you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care?’ —> ‘now I just sit in the dark and wonder if it’s time’

‘the mischief, the gift-wrapped suburban dreams’ —> ‘remember looking at this room? we loved it cause of the light’

‘sorry for not winning you an arcade ring’ —> ‘choose something, babe, I got nothing to believe unless you’re choosing me’

‘did I leave you hanging every single day?’ —> ‘every morning, I glared at you with storms in my eyes’

‘did I paint your bluest skies the darkest gray a universe away?’ —> ‘my face was gray, but you wouldn’t admit that we were sick’

‘and when I got into the accident, the sight that flashed before me was your face’ —> ‘now you’re running down the hallway / and you know what they all say / you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone’

‘but when I walked up to the podium, i think that i forgot to say your name’ —> ‘don’t you ignore me, I’m the best thing at this party’

you’re losing me is key to the entirety of ttpd, really, so this gives us the ability to draw parallels to sooo many songs on the album. coney island is a goldmine actually. no wonder she’s mashed it up with so many songs on tour.

my next post will be connecting right where you left me and chloe et al whenever I get around to it (to be clear, I don’t think they’re about the same person).

[cera-writes]

I love all your fics and i read you wanted to write song fics, and I've been obsessed with TTPD and Gambit this past month, so I was thinking in a hiper angsty fic inspired on this album and other songs, where Gambit meets Avenger! Reader, who is in her twenties, and they have a secret relationship because it could be a disaster between their teams, and she doesn't know Remy and Rogue's history, so when they break up and he goes back to Rogue, the reader doesn't know if everything that they had was real to him, plot twist Remy was using her to get information all that time. And she's heartbroken, but at the same time, she has so much rage.

Some songs by taylor swift that give me the vibe of their relationship: "Gorgeous", "Suburban Legends", "willow", "Slut!" "august", "Guilty as sin?", "Florida!!!", "The smallest man who ever lived", "down bad", "my boy only breaks his favourite toys", "how did it end?", "Would've, could've, should've", "dear john"

plus: "Silver Springs" and "can't catch me now" because he'll always be tormented by her love

* Sorry if there's something you can't understand, English is not my first language!!! Also, I don't know if you like Taylor or if this is a long request for you, so I understand if you don't write this, but I hope it can help you when you need inspiration.

And thanks for feeding the Gambit nation, his fics are scarce and everything you write is amazing xoxoxo

-💫

A/N: hello fellow Swiftie~ I wrote these sectioned into mini parts! It'd probably take me a while to write a full length fic but I summarized their relationship according to each song you requested :) Pairing: Remy "Gambit" LeBeau x (Avenger) AFAB!Reader

Tangled Threads (A Gambit/Avenger!Reader Songfic)

Part 1: Gorgeous (and secret trysts)

He sauntered in, that Cajun charm dripping like molasses, a smirk playing on his lips that could disarm a bomb squad. Gambit. Not exactly Avenger material, an X-Man, but here he was lounging in the small speakeasy, all roguish charisma and smoldering unusual eyes. The two of you had struck up a secret alliance, amidst a blossoming relationship.

"He's gorgeous," you thought, trying to focus on the holographic briefing flickering before you. "Gorgeous enough to be a criminal mastermind." The internal voice was probably right.

He caught your eye, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Mind if I join the party, cher? Looks like you could use some company."

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. *"This isn't a party, Gambit. Briefing. And besides. we're supposed to be secretive."

"Even briefings need a little spice, wouldn't you agree?" He leaned closer, his voice a low rumble. "Besides, I brought intel."

That piqued your interest. Intel was always welcome, especially from someone as questionable as Gambit. The next few hours were a blur of stolen glances, whispered strategies, and a thrill that sent shivers down your spine. This shouldn't feel so good, not with him on the other side of the line.

But there he was, effortlessly weaving himself into the fabric of your world, a secret melody in the symphony of my life. "And you're right here, right next to me," the T-Swift song echoed over the ambiance of the bar, perfectly capturing the forbidden electricity crackling between you.

Stolen moments turned into stolen nights. Rooftop rendezvous under the city lights, whispered secrets amidst the chaos. You were a tangled mess, a love story written in code, a secret waiting to be exposed.

"Deep down, I know this is delicate," the lyrics resonated with the fragile nature of your connection. "But I can't turn away." The danger was intoxicating, a forbidden fruit you couldn't resist. But the fear, a persistent whisper in the back of my mind, gnawed at you.

Was it real, or was it just a game? Were you just another pawn in Gambit's grand scheme? The thought sent a tremor through you. "Maybe we got something good," the song continued in your headphones, painting a hopeful picture despite the growing doubt.

But hope, like trust, was a fragile thing. One day, the melody would change, the chords turning discordant. And when it did, the fallout would be a symphony of heartbreak.

Part 2: Willow (and Whispers)

"We can't keep doing this," you whispered one starlit night, the weight of your double life heavy on your chest. "It's too risky. We're on opposite sides."

He pulled you closer, the familiar warmth a bittersweet comfort. "Love doesn't play by team rules, cher." You could never tell what he was thinking. He always had that damn poker face.

"If this was an open shut case, I never would've known from the look on your face, Rem," you replied, challenging his open statement.

"Heh," he smirked. "Daring though, non?"

"But it can get us both killed," you countered, the voice you used for briefings laced with unspoken fear.

"Maybe that's the thrill, yeah?" He winked, the playful facade a mask for something deeper. "You're a prize I'd cheat to win, chere."

A knot tightened in your stomach. Was it just a game to him? Was he another "august slip away into a moment in time," a fleeting fling he'd discard when the thrill faded? "Guilty as sin," you thought, a line from another song echoing your turmoil.

Part 3: Slut! (and Lies)

The news hit you like a psychic blast. Remy LeBeau, back with Rogue. Public declarations, lovey-dovey photos splashed across mutant newsfeeds. The air felt thick with betrayal, the stolen moments tainted with a sickening suspicion. "Slut! Oh, you're the only one who even tried." The song ripped through you, a cruel mirror reflecting your shattered trust.

Fury simmered, a storm brewing beneath the hurt. Were you just a pawn in some twisted game? "Down bad, down bad, but I won't cry." You wouldn't let him break you. Rage, a fiery ember, ignited alongside the heartbreak. Maybe this was for the best. Your reputation had never been worse. At least you could focus on your team and not Remy anymore. But who were you kidding? It hurt.

Part 4: The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived (and Doubts)

Days turned into a blur of training, a desperate attempt to drown the doubts. "Was he the smallest man who ever lived?" You questioned everything, replaying his words, searching for a crumb of truth. Had he ever loved you, or was it all an act? A cruel manipulation to infiltrate the Avengers?

Part 5: Dear John (and Deception)

You cornered him, the raw emotions a maelstrom in your eyes. "Did any of it mean anything, Remy?" The question hung heavy in the air.

His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Always cherish the memories, cher. But some things just can't last."

"Would've, could've, should've," you seethed. "Was it all a lie?" The words were a gut punch, a desperate plea for the truth.

He turned away, a flicker of regret in his eyes. "Maybe that's a story for another time."

Raw, unbridled anger burned through your veins.

"Right," you spat, the bitterness dripping from your tongue. "Just another girl you used and discarded." The weight of his betrayal settled on you, a heavy cloak.

Chapter 6: Can't Catch Me Now (and a Tangled Future)

The training room became your sanctuary. Sweat turned into tears, the pain fueling a relentless drive. Punches became declarations, each blow a defiant roar against his betrayal. "Flying like a jet stream, faster than the white cars can go." You wouldn't be some damsel in distress, a mere conquest in his web of lies. You'd become stronger, faster, a force to be reckoned with.

He might call himself Gambit, but the real gamble was his. He'd bet on manipulating you, using you for his own ends. But the tables had turned. You wouldn't be another forgotten pawn in his game.

One day, your paths would cross again. And when they did, you wouldn't be the naive hero he'd once known. He might slip through your fingers like charged cards, haunted by the ghost of a love he couldn't keep. But as you soared through the air, empowered by rage and renewed purpose, one thing was certain:

"You can't catch me now."

Hope this was okay! I tried to use most of the songs you listed! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

[bigbadbatch]

The Tortured Padawan Department

I am starting a mini-one shot series where I mix Taylor Swift's TTPD with my favorite Star Wars Boys. Each one shot has an essential listening song (be on the look out for quotes and themes!) Rex and Hunter are heavy focused for first two, with a surprise guest in the third fic!

First up: Guilty as Sin?

Word Count: 1.5k

A Captain Rex x Fem!reader fic

Attachment is forbidden for a Jedi, but what if it's a sin worth committing ?

You woke up drenched in sweat, panting. The temple was quiet, and your small bedroom deafeningly silent. Your heart pounded, and you worried it could be heard through the thin walls around you. That dream. Again. This was the seventh occasion you had such a dream. It always started decent enough. Then it became anything but decent. Your skin prickled remembering- the smell of him in the dream, the feel of his rough hands on your arms, your back, your…

 “Rex.” You cursed under your breath. You needed to walk this off. Getting quickly dressed, you stepped out into the empty hall of the Jedi Temple. It was his fault, really. All the flirtations on the field, the way he always dared to joke with you. His smile, his laugh. You shook your head and left the temple, walking towards the bright city lights, and the bars you knew awaited. This is what you always did after one of those dreams. Go for a drink, a fling, anything to help you clear your head, get your fix. Sex wasn’t forbidden for a Jedi, if anything it could be encouraged to blow off steam after a battle. But attachment. There was the trick of it. Attachment was strictly against the code. To get attached, to love, was to eventually lose. Grief, jealousy, fear- these all lead to the Dark Side. Still, it came so naturally. Especially with him. Rex had taken you under his wing when you were transferred to the 501st. You had been hesitant, still hurting from the loss of your Master and the 271st, all lost in the Battle of Rankill, you the sole survivior.

Those were the first recurring dreams you had, nightmares of reliving the loss over and over. Your Master running, trying desperately to save his men, you, and the man he loved. It was no secret that Commander Dax and your Master were involved. If anything it was part of the reason you felt so strongly about attachment. Your Master’s love is what got him killed, and neither he, his lover, nor his men were left to show for it. Only you, a new stray picked up by Master Kenobi, were left standing to carry your Master’s legacy.

What would he think of me? You ponder as you enter the bar, neon lights, music and chatter streaming from the open door. You had barely taken a seat when you heard your name being called. An all too familiar form strode to you, smiling.

“Fancy seeing you here. Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Rex saddled up next to you, as if that seat was meant for him. The grinning, handsome clone put his arm around you, jostling your shoulder, friendly.

“Aren’t you typically at 79’s?” You ask incredulously. How could he be here, of all places? Of all people, him, here, now?

“Wanted a change of scenery, and I must admit I like the view.” He growls, and you scowled and shoved his arm off of you.

“Well, I wanted a drink. Buy me one?” You said, smirking. 

He somehow smiled even wider than before. “Sure thing cyare, be right back.” 

Shit, shit, shit. Your skin was so warm where he had touched you, and his casual flirting set your heart fluttering. You knew you should leave, before he gets back. You’re too pent up, too enamored by him to deal with this rationally. A broad body slid back in next to you.

“You looked like you could use something a bit strong. You alright tonight, mesh’la?”

You knew what the Mandalorian words meant, and knew he meant them in good fun. He must. In one stroke you downed the whole drink, it burning as it went down.

“Well shit.” He said. “What’s going on?”

You shake your head. He was too close to you. You could smell his leathery, smoky scent, and it filled you up. Your stomach was fluttering, flashes of the dream popping into your mind. He wasn’t supposed to be here. You needed a distraction. 

“Let’s dance.”

Even you are surprised by the words that come out of your mouth. Rex’s eyebrows shot up.

“Alright. We can dance.”

He stood and gestured for you to lead the way. 

The dancefloor was crowded, and the music thumping. It rattled your bones, the fast beat just what you needed. You closed your eyes and let the movement come to you. You couldn't see Rex, but you could still feel him near, his body swaying in time with yours.  You gave yourself over to the music. It was almost like a form of meditation, getting you in tune with yourself once again.

Warm hands brushed your hips. Eyes still closed, mind still consumed by the drink and the music, you leaned in. The hands grasped you strongly, swinging your hips back and forth with the music, your body rolling. You felt alive. Everything forgotten, your past, your present, your dreams, the only thing that mattered was this moment. He pulled you close, chest to chest, with no room between you. Your hips circled, and his ground, and you couldn't help it, your lips parted and you exhaled. His head bent, and lips brushed the side of your neck. You twined your arms around him, pulling him closer, the two of you spinning in a slow circle, at odds with the quick rhythm of the music. A hand slipped up to your neck, then to your face. The large, rugged hand cupped your face and you leaned into it. You could feel warm breath on your lips, and without thinking moved to meet his. 

Fireworks exploded. Warmth flooded your body as you gave in to the kiss. Then you opened your eyes. No. Rex gazed back at you, stars in his eyes. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” he said. 

Fear seized you. You tensed, and he immediately noticed. He took his hands off of you as you backed away. No. No. No. No. You shook your head, nearly trembling, and bolted for the door. “Wait!” He called after you, but you were gone into the night. 

You ran, legs pumping, heart racing down the streets. You ran past 79’s, past the temple, until you couldn’t run anymore. You ducked into an alley, gasping for breath. Anger, fear, guilt, all of these emotions flooded you. You punched the stone wall in front of you and nearly screamed in exasperation. Your bones felt like they were breaking inside your skin, your head pounded with bad thoughts. You were bad. You were wrong. You had been having these dreams, you clearly wanted what you knew you couldn’t and shouldn’t have. You led him on. You were guilty of attachment, guilty for your feelings. Guilty for falling in love with Rex. Tears sprang to your eyes.

You thought about him day in and out. You worried about him in battle, on the field. You touched yourself to thoughts of him. You'd already been with him a thousand times in your mind. You pretended your one-night stands were him. You nearly sobbed at the revelation. You did love him. You loved him.

“Cyare!” A shout and the pounding of feet towards you roused you. You hurriedly wiped your eyes in an attempt to hide your shame, but he saw.

“Cyare please, are you okay? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I went too far.” Rex grabbed your hands and pulled them from your hiding face, wiping tears from your eyes as he did. You can’t help it. You laugh. You laugh at the absurdity of this.

“No, I’m sorry.” You said, and with your back to the wall you slid down onto the cold ground, head in your hands. Without hesitation, he sat beside you, silently giving you a moment to compose your thoughts. 

“Rex”. You say, his name sickly sweet on your tongue. “We can’t do this.” Fresh tears cascaded down your face, and he quickly brushed them away for you. He was quiet, then said. “I overstepped. I thought you felt the same way, I thought we wanted the same thing. I shouldn’t have.”

You cut him off saying “I do.”

Silence.

“I don’t understand.” He said as he took your hand.

So you tell him everything. How guilty you felt, how your Master lost his life for his lover, how a good Jedi doesn’t love, and most of all how your heart was hurting.

“I love you, Rex. I shouldn’t, but I love you.” He squeezed your hand, hard and tears welled in his eyes too. “I love you too mesh’la. And I am so sorry you feel guilty, but please know, I would never want to put you in a position where you feel like this. I’m giving you full control from here on. You dictate what we are, what we do. Lovers? I’d love that. Friends? That’s fine too. If sex is what you need, I’ll gladly volunteer. I want you to be happy, and I will do anything for that. So you tell me, what do you want?”

You take a deep breath. Everything feels so much more clear with him here, now, after everything. 

“You. I want you.”

And as you kissed in that alleyway, and later gave yourself to each other completely, you felt a peace you had never known.

[spade-riddles]

So Karlie has an interview for Elle magazine that I have conflicted feelings about. On the one hand, she ends it talking about the importance of heirloom pieces. Saying her husband bought her a Cartier watch for their wedding and one day she hopes to pass it on to their daughter, if she's lucky enough to have one. It would be stupid to pretend a potential surface reading of this isn't that she plans to stick it out in the lavender marriage with Jerk through a third child. I really don't want this to be the case, but I feel like they've teased us with the hope of it finally being over before, by going dark for weeks, only to suddenly show up again packing on the PR PDA. So . . . who knows. I've been burned too many times before not to be suspicious.

BUT.

If I'm being optimistic. An alternate reading is that the "husband" Karlie is referring to here is actually her wife. We've talked before about the symbolism of Cartier jewelry for these two, and the idea of Taylor gifting Karlie a Cartier watch on the day of her lavender "wedding" fits. Remember the "love locked down" locket during the Tayvin era? We speculated that was to represent Kaylor holding steadfast to each other during the lockdown of the Tayvin contract. Something they could draw strength from. Locket imagery then showed up in Taylor's lyrics, when talking about a secret love.

It makes sense to me that Taylor would repeat this and give Karlie a gift to hold onto during another tough time of romantic lockdown. And watches, clocks, etc have been a recurring theme in Taylor's lyrics since the lavender marriage, just like the locket was before. ("Our old spot by the gold clock" is an example that stands out especially. About a secret meeting place, with someone Taylor fears she keeps letting down. We never could quite figure that one out.) Taylor has also quite literally been wearing watches as jewelry for the TTPD era.

The way Karlie talks about this watch, I'm picturing a gold pocket watch, like in the Bejeweled music video. Fits for an heirloom, and would explain why we've never seen it. It would also explain why the gold compact mirrors keep recurring as imagery - maybe they're stand-ins for a look alike gold watch!

Also of note is that Karlie says she wants to pass this down to her daughter. It reads almost like it was a slip of the tongue? Like she then corrects herself by saying "I have two sons" and "maybe one day". I don't know. I just thought that moment was a little strange. You're pretty much the only blogger I know still on the train of "they had a daughter" and while I respect everyone's opinions on this and have no particular investment in it myself either way (they have kids and they're happy, that's all I need to know), it did seem like . . . in a certain light, you could read it as confirmation of this blog's theory. If we DO get news of a split soon, and this hypothetical third child with Jerk becomes impossible, then that's definitely the light I'll be reading those comments in. A little nod to the truth.

I guess only time will tell.

Thank you for this thorough review. I like your clock analysis. I read the article last night and had this exact same feeling about the daughter comment:

“It reads almost like it was a slip of the tongue? Like she then corrects herself by saying "I have two sons" and "maybe one day". I don't know. I just thought that moment was a little strange.”

Also, while it does imply she is still stunting, we do not know when the interview took place. I have no idea how long it takes from interview to articles published in those magazines. So trying to stay optimistic like you are.

Link to article

[merp-blerp]

Gaylor/Kaylor and Oz: Parallels and Theories 🌼🌈❇️

CW: Light Spoilers for L. Frank Baum's Oz book series (books 1-15) and major spoilers for Return to Oz (1985). And this post is very late-stage-Kaylor-specific, so if that's not up your alley, that's chill.

There is now a Vol. 2 with new additions and info! I recommend reading this part first.

Overblown Analysis Under the Cut ↓

As a huge Oz nerd, I and many others have noticed many Oz media parallels in Taylor's music. I wanted to piece together some I've seen mentioned and some I've noticed myself. More things could pop up as time goes on, so I could imagine me editing or making a second part to this post if necessary.

Part 1: Rainbows 🌈

In the 1939 film, Dorothy's home, Kansas, is portrayed as a dreary sepia or greige color, that way the contrast to the gorgeous technicolor of the land of Oz could be even more effective on the audience. Somewhat surprisingly I guess, this sepia color is reflected in the book, with Kansas being described as "the great grey prairie" and even W. W. Denslow's original illustrations of Kansas being colored in greige; the pages don't include more color until Dorothy is swept into the cyclone on her way to Oz.

So many of Taylor's lyrics describe events turning her world from colorless to colorful or vice versa. "The rest of the world was black and white // But we were in screaming color" from "OOTW", "You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else" from "Illicit Affairs", "If all you want is gray for me // Then it's just white noise, and it's my choice" from "BDILH", "Like a rainbow with all of the colors" from "ME!" turning into "I'm just... in shades of greige" from "The Prophecy", etc.

For TTPD, from a gaylor perspective, the sepia and greige theme of the album is supposed to reflect that for Taylor the closet is colorless and sad. It also invokes old Hollywood and how closeting is an old-fashioned practice figuratively and literally. Closeting is a practice based on outdated mindsets and fears and it's been a practice since Hollywood as we know it today was beginning to be established. MGM Dorothy actress Judy Garland was in at least one lavender marriage and might've been queer herself, but the latter isn't as confirmed as other victims of closeting of the time like, say, her husband Vincente Minnelli. Taylor often utilizes vintage imagery in her music, romanticizing it, but the song "TTPD" (and other points in the album) calls her out for it with her lover having to remind Taylor that they are living in modern times despite being held down by old-fashioned ideals. The Wizard of Oz (1939) film is arguably the epitome of old Hollywood nostalgia, so it makes sense for Taylor to use it as a way to tell the story she wants to tell, especially if it's a queer one since Oz is very special to a lot of queer people.

For what it's worth, Ashley Park performed the film's song, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" on The Drew Barrymore Show in what looks to be the Christian Siriano rainbow dress. Fun! Curiously, I can't find a video of this performance, I just happened to stumble upon this GIF on giphy.com and an article talking about the performance.

As an extra tidbit, in the Oz books, the rainbow is personified in the character Polychrome, the youngest daughter of the rainbow. She happens to be featured in one half of a certain famous quote from The Road to Oz. Polychrome comments, "You have some queer friends, Dorothy," to which Dorothy responds, "The queerness doesn’t matter, so long as they’re friends." This quote is theorized to be the inspiration for the phrase "friend(s) of Dorothy" in queer slang. And it's nice to have a friend like Dorothea, of course. Speaking of which...

Part 2: Dorothy and Ozma 🌪️🌺

Dorothy Gale needs no introduction, but I will give Princess/Queen Ozma one since she's a more niche character. Ozma is the rightful ruler of Oz. The "Wizard", Oscar Diggs, was not meant to rule over Oz. He went to great lengths to usurp the throne from Ozma's father, Pastoria, and hide Ozma away as a baby, dumping her on a witch named Mombi, who enslaves her and disguises her as a boy named Tip so she and others won't know her identity. She learns the truth about who she is and takes back her throne in book 2, The Marvelous Land of Oz (This backstory is why Ozma is a trans icon, along with a sapphic one). Ozma and Dorothy meet each other in book 3, Ozma of Oz, and are inseparable from there on. A common queer interpretation of Oz sees Kansas as like the closet and Oz as being out and free. A part of why the queer interpretations of Oz work particularly well in the books is because in The Emerald City of Oz, Dorothy and her Kansas family move to Oz permanently when Kansas stops being liveable for them. So Dorothy becomes the second ruler of Oz and Ozma's "constant companion" at Ozma's "proposal", as L. Frank Baum describes it. Dorothy is the only person allowed in Ozma's bedroom unannounced, which is cutely domestic. Baum's story and John R. Neil's illustrations of the two often depict them as being very close, holding hands, and kissing. It's not really knowable if Baum intended for it to be seen this way, but many modern Oz book fans see them as a couple.

Naturally, there's the theory that Taylor's song "Dorothea" is about Karlie, as well as the fact that Karlie dressed up as Dorothy for Halloween 2023 and did a partly-Oz-inspired photoshoot in 2010, among other Oz-themed things. Also, after the first book, Baum had a falling out with Denslow and appointed a new illustrator, John R. Neil; Neil's design of Dorothy sports a blonde bob, which reminds me of the "Karlie Kut" a bit, even if that's coincidental. Since the Karlie as Dorothy theory is pretty well established, I want to forward a theory about Taylor taking on the role of Ozma.

For starters, Taylor wears a gingham green dress in her music video for "Karma (ft. Ice Spice)" as she skips and sweeps down a yellow brick road in red shoes, looped braids, and lemon beret. This outfit is a bit perplexing, as while it seems very Dorothy-inspired, it actively makes itself just different enough from how Dorothy is illustrated in the first Oz book and seen in pop culture. It could be suggested that this is for copyright reasons since 1939 Dorothy is not in the public domain yet and using that likeness would require making a payment. However, thanks to the book specifically describing/illustrating Dorothy as wearing blue and white gingham and pigtail braids, these features can still be used, as all of Baum's Oz novels are in the public domain. Oddly, the only potentially copyright-able aspect of Dorothy's costume is the one that Taylor kept, the ruby slippers exclusive to MGM's '39 film, since in the book Dorothy's shoes are silver. So why were all these unnecessary changes here?

My main theory is that Taylor is subtly invoking Ozma in a way that would still be recognizably Oz-ian, as I don't think most people would catch on to the Oz reference if Taylor dressed as a more accurate-looking Ozma. Hence why the gingham and red shoes are present even though Ozma is never described as wearing anything like that. Ozma is often depicted in long flowing white or green dresses. And while Ozma's hair is usually free in Neil's illustrations, her hair is sometimes tied into a bun, and Taylor's looped braids seem to be in the same family as a bun (I don't know how else to say that, I hope you get what I mean...). The lemon beret is hard to explain. As far as I know/can recall, lemons have never played a major role in any Oz media, so my guess is that the hat is meant to match the yellow brick road or maybe slightly invoke the fighting trees from the film and book. Since Taylor's outfit is similar but not the same as Dorothy's, it could be interpreted as Taylor dressing as someone adjacent to Dorothy, or a friend of Dorothy's, and Ozma would definitely fit that title. Ozma is also a fairy, so this also lines up with my Taylor is the beast to Karlie's beauty theory, since a fairy is a creature. And as the small, coincidental cherry on top, Ozma was originally described as blonde like Taylor in the story's text, despite the fact that Neil always drew her as a brunette. Dorothy's appearance outside of her clothes is rarely if ever given, that way anyone could see themselves in Dorothy, her design not mattering too greatly. The only clue to her physical looks is in the illustrations, but the consistency changes over the Oz series when it comes to Dorothy's design, so again it doesn't matter. Kind of like how, whether a song has male pronouns or not, it’s always describing Karlie, the "design" of the muse not mattering. And it actually does make some sense for Ozma to have the ruby slippers, even though she never had them in the books, but more on that in the next part. If Karlie is Dorothy, Taylor is Ozma.

An alternate, more flimsy idea is that Taylor is dressed as Dorothy in her green dress returning to the Wizard with the wicked witch's broom as proof that she melted her. However, this doesn't quite work for me personally, as in the film, Dorothy never got a green dress from the Emerald City. And while book Dorothy did get a "green" dress, she never had to bring the witch's broom to the Wizard and her dress wasn't actually green but white; it only appeared green in the Emerald City due to the green spectacles everyone was tricked into wearing by the shamming Wizard. And of course, book Dorothy's slippers weren't red like Taylor's, but silver. Maybe I'm being too particular, but to me, the details of the two titular versions of Oz make this idea weak.

Another idea is that Taylor is dressed as an amalgamation of Dorothy and the witch, which is definitely an interesting thought. In the 1st book, both Dorothy and the witch have no magic of their own and need to obtain magical items, like the silver shoes or the golden cap. But the difference is that the witch uses her power to do evil while Dorothy doesn't know the power she has, even by the time the shoes get her to Kansas again, as they presumably could do way more than that. The idea of Taylor combining the two is interesting, but again the red shoes put me off.

I think the Ozma theory works the best (and I think it's the cutest).

The story of Ozma being unrightfully taken from her throne and hidden away from everyone and herself reminds me of many stories told through Taylor's music. Lyrics like "I (I) don't (don't) like your kingdom keys (keys) // They (they) once belonged to me (me) // You (you) asked me for a place to sleep // Locked me out and threw a feast (what?)" from "LWYMMD" and trapped imagery in MVs like "Willow" feel somewhat reminiscent of that story.

Taylor isn't any kind of genderqueer as far as anyone publicly knows for sure, but Taylor definitely seems to have no problem with aligning herself with masculinity and taking on male roles. Take things like the wonderland photoshoot (Lordy! 🤭), Taylor semi-confirming she's Folklore's JaMEs, "The Man", "Peter", and maybe etc. Ozma being a girl but forced to present as a guy for years could be seen as similar to Taylor having to paint some of her songs about women as being from a male perspective, or some songs never being officially said to be from a male perspective being assumed to be so anyway, like "Question...?"

One more small parallel between Taylor and Ozma: Ozma is often pictured as wearing two poppies, one on each side of her head, seemingly in her hair or connected to her crown. Reminds me of "Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair" from "The Great War".

Part 3: Return to Oz 👠

Return to Oz (1985) is an unofficial sequel to The Wizard of Oz (1939) made by Disney. It takes the stories of The Marvelous Land of Oz and Ozma of Oz and combines them into an original story. At least in America, this is the only feature-length film to feature Ozma and attempt to vaguely adapt the novels more closely. (Context for RTO photos in the image descriptions, which is the case for every image and GIF on this post because why the hell not)

Return to Oz adds a setting that wasn't featured in any of the Oz books: a mental hospital. Aunt Em and Uncle Henry, concerned that Dorothy isn't sleeping and won't stop insisting Oz is real, send Dorothy to a mental hospital in an attempt to get her help (not out of malice). As we know, TTPD features the theme of asylums prevalently. The treatment chosen to help Dorothy is electroshock therapy, similar to Taylor receiving electroshock therapy in the MV for "Fortnight". In "Down Bad", Taylor says, "They'll say I'm nuts if I talk about the existence of you", just like how Em and Henry thought Dorothy needed psychiatric help when she talked about Oz being real.

When Dorothy stays over at the hospital for treatment, a character named Nurse Wilson (Kansas doppelganger of Mombi) escorts her to her room; Nurse Wilson wears a black dress very similar in style to Taylor's black dress from "Fortnight".

When the power goes out and the electroshock therapy isn't given a chance to begin, a fellow patient revealed later to be Ozma helps Dorothy escape the asylum by freeing her from the bed she's strapped to and bolting with her. Ozma and Dorothy slip into a river while running away, in which Ozma finds an abandoned chicken coop for Dorothy to ride through said river to Oz, Dorothy fearing Ozma drowned during the process until the end of the film. This is similar to Taylor and Post Malone's character escaping the asylum after Post cuts the power in "Fortnight". Ozma unstrapping Dorothy from her bed is similar to the nurse who unchains Taylor from the bed in "Fortnight", theorized to be played by Karlie herself. And Ozma finding the coop for Dorothy to ride away on is reminiscent of Taylor clinging to her piano in "Cardigan". Clinging to something when in rough water is common imagery, so it could definitely be coincidental, but I thought I'd mention it.

In this film, Ozma is trapped in a mirror by the witch Mombi, reminiscent of Taylor depicting herself as trapped behind glass closets in numerous MVs. After Dorothy saves Oz, she is the one to free Ozma from her glass prison by touching her hand and guiding her out of the glass, similar to Post and Taylor in the last scene in the "Fortnight" MV. Ozma in the mirror behaves like Dorothy's reflection, which reminds me of Taylor having Post's tattoos when she wipes her face in the mirror as if to say she's a reflection of his character.

Dorothy gives Ozma the ruby slippers before leaving Oz (Disney paid for the right to use them). That could help to explain why Taylor wears the ruby slippers that Ozma never had in the books if she's truly dressed as Ozma. And notably, when dressing up as Dorothy for Halloween, Karlie wore a full Dorothy costume, except for the ruby/silver slippers, arguably the most important part. As if Karlie was in "Kansas" and gave Taylor her shoes.

Dorothy chooses to return home in the end, but Ozma gifts her a way for them to communicate: through her mirror. This way Ozma can watch over her and when Dorothy wants to return to Oz, Ozma will make it happen. I've mentioned the parallels with the glass closets, but this also reminds me of "A tiny screen's the only place I see you now" from "Dorothea". In the book and '39 film, Dorothy uses her shoes to get back to Kansas, but in RTO, they are presumably going to be used to get Dorothy back to Oz when the time is right. So maybe after Taylor potentially comes out she will use Karlie's ruby slippers to sweep into the rescue and save Karlie from Kansas/the closet and back to Oz/freedom with her. Outside of RTO, it could also work the other way, with Taylor using the shoes to go home, especially with all the lyrics Taylor's had about returning home to/with her lover. Kansas doesn't represent anything bad in the original story, so it's possible that Kansas isn't a debilitating cage/closet, just home where you feel safe with the ones you love. Ozma also encourages Dorothy to keep their communication secret. Dorothy wants Aunt Em and Uncle Henry to know of Ozma, as she calls for Em to come and look as soon as she summons Ozma. But Ozma seems to see it as best kept quiet, no exact reason given to the audience from what I can tell, but it's understood by Dorothy and Ozma themselves. Pretty similar to Kar and Tay maintaining their closet for reasons we gaylors don't fully get to know, at least not yet.

(I didn't know where to put this little factoid, but in this film, the only times Ozma really smiles is at Dorothy. It's not important, just a bit cute and sad.)

And as a bonus for you Spade riddle fans out there, when Dorothy meets Ozma in the hospital, Ozma gifts Dorothy a pumpkin because "it's Halloween soon". The pumpkin is a Kansas doppelganger to an Oz character called Jack Pumpkinhead, who calls both Ozma and Dorothy "Mom" because Dorothy saved him from Mombi and Ozma built him and brought him to life. A bit reminiscent of Karlie and Taylor having Levi and Elijah if you ask me. I'm admittedly not a huge riddles person because it goes a bit over my talents, but I think they're intriguing and I'm curious if the riddles and Oz/RTO together would mean anything.

There's debate on whether Post's character is supposed to represent Taylor working with herself to get free or Karlie. I think it could be either or even both in a convoluted way. I like both theories. If "Fortnight" is based on RTO, the roles of Ozma and Dorthy seem switched, with Dorothy rescuing Ozma from the asylum. However, the tattoo mirror scene suggests that Taylor is mirroring Post's character, or playing him, and if that's Karlie, maybe the MV could be seen as Taylor playing Karlie in a sense since they're "twins" whose pasts are "parallel lines", while Post is either playing Taylor or Karlie; they are one and the same. The MV is really interesting to ponder in general.

Part 4: Miscellaneous Oz Connections ❇️

Lightning round (filled with tons of reaches)! ⚡️

In the "ME!" MV, Taylor and Brandon running up to the green building with a rainbow beam on it whilst in green marching band outfits looks similar to Dorothy and her friends running toward the Emerald City in the '39 film.

The all-pink soldiers in the marching band scene of "ME!" remind me of Glinda's all-female red army in the books.

In "loml", Taylor sings "The coward claimed he was a lion", a reference to the cowardly lion.

The men in the "ME!" MV falling from the sky with umbrellas reminds me of Dorothy and her cousin Zeb falling through the sky with an umbrella down to Oz in Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz.

Taylor might've been in a Wizard of Oz play at her school in 2006. The linked post doesn't give too much evidence admittedly, but I think it's worth saying that the play at least happened at her school.

I wasn't sure where to put this mini-analysis, but I think it's interesting that Taylor associates Dianna Agron with Wonderland and Karlie with Oz and the differences that could suggest. Alice and Dorothy go through similar adventures, but the two go about them very differently. Dorothy adapts to Oz very quickly and loves it there, enough for it to be her second home. Meanwhile, Alice certainly doesn't enjoy Wonderland as much as Dorothy loves Oz, itching to get out and stay out. Dorothy is very active in her role, making friends and changing Oz forever, while Alice passively goes through the motions and lets things happen before escaping to the next thing. It seems like Baum wrote the Oz books to give children lessons on friendship, feminism, and more, while Lewis Carroll wrote the Alice books with the exact purpose of saying nothing and giving birth to the genre of "nonsense writing". And Wonderland is definitely a dream in the original two novels while Oz is a very real place in the books. I know the associations seemingly have to do with the muses’ actual taste in fairytales, but I wonder how the differences speak to the story Taylor’s spun in her music about them. Assuming both Oz and Wonderland are freedom to some degree, does Wonderland being temporary speak to Taylor and Dianna as a couple, while Taylor and Karlie are still ongoing IMO, just like the Oz book series to this day (Canonical Oz books are still being written by different authors. There’s 40+ of them)? Is there something in the fact that Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is an English fairytale and The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is considered the first American fairytale, and Karlie convinced Taylor to stay in America and live in New York rather than London where Dianna was? Do Alice and Dorothy’s different reactions to their discovered worlds speak to how both Karlie and Dianna feel about closeting vs being out or maybe how they feel toward Taylor in some way? I genuinely have no clue, but it's some interesting food for thought. (This isn't Dianna, Swiftgron, or Alice's Adventures in Wonderland slander btw, I don't know enough about Swiftgron besides the basics to do that.)

In Conclusion 🌼

I have no way of knowing if Taylor has even read the Oz books, seen Return to Oz, and knows all this information, but I think it's fun that these connections are there. If there are more connections you thought of or ones that you think I missed, let me know!

Thanks for reading!

[morgsdrew]

smallest man who ever lived — morcyn lyrics break down.

note: i was listened to ttpd & the bridge of this song reminds me of @jacynkaplanbrake and @morgsdrew !!

i literally wrote this on discord so it’s messy !!

And I don't even want you back, I just want to know / If rusting my sparkling summer was the goal / And I don't miss what we had, but could someone give / A message to the smallest man who ever lived?

i added this part because of and i don’t even want you back i just want to know / and i don’t miss what we had part especially rn with morgan who maybe still struggles to let go not because she still wants him but because there are still lingering questions left unanswered on why the fell apart… and like considering jacyn’s actions post break up or even pre break up, she wondered if any of it was real

Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? / Did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?

referring to jacyn being jester who was under the wing of the joker for a brief moment. the joker who most likely wants morgan dead and vice versa. and like … these two could hurt each other physically bc of their alter egos…. crazy….

I would've died for your sins / Instead, I just died inside

morgan who doesn’t care about his crimes because she’d be a hypocrite to hate him for it. she’d be with him regardless what happens (WELL obviously excluding SOME crimes…….) but yeah the instead i just died inside part works well too because morgan always claims she had given him multiple chances to jo avail and she’s TIRED

And you deserve prison, but you won't get time / You'll slide into inboxes and slip through the bars

atp with jacyn’s crimes… if he wasn’t a minor, he might just deserve prison LMAO… morgan being aware of this…..

You crashed my party and your rental car / You said normal girls were boring

okay i interpret this as jacyn crashing into her life and ruining it in some way and normal girls were boring referencing how they would always say they match each other’s freaks smh

You kicked out the stage lights / But you're still performing

pretending it says i kicked out the stage lights but you’re still performing as a reference to their break up: morgan initiates break up but he’s still kinda there in her point of view? ORRR based on the meaning in the song, stage lights as in morgan giving all her love and attention to him and jacyn kicking them means he pushed it away intentionally or unintentionally and took her for granted

And in plain sight you hid / But you are what you did / And I'll forget you, but I'll never forgive / The smallest man who ever lived

and in plain sight you hid could be morgan refusing to see the signs / his bad actions even though it was OBVIOUS. actions tell you who you TRULY are !! morgan talking about his constant mistakes !! and like she always says to herself she might never forgive him for what he did

THERE COULD BE MORE BUT YES. this for now…

[tilthefadetoblack]

my full review of ttpd (a month late, shhh)

tw opinions. if you like a song that i don't or vice versa or you don't agree with a comment i made, good for you! get it off your chest, get it off my desk!

fortnight

One of Taylor’s weaker openers, it’s a nice song, not much going on though

the production is boppy, not much going on once again

Interesting how Taylor sees her muse as living a good life without her and a nice domestic scene with his wife watering flowers but for her, her husband is cheating on her, implying she thinks she will never be happy, maybe because of how this relationship went or her general perception of relationships and her experiences with them. That is my interpretation of the song.

The outro with post and taylor's harmonies SLAPS

Like I said, this song feels a bit lacking of substance both thematically and technically, it doesn't do it for me, i don't hate listening to it, i just don't love it.

i think it might be a song that grows on me over time but it won't ever be a fave for me.

i also think in light of the music video, it's lost some of its spark for me, as that music video made no sense to me. i don't think it deserved to be a single.

the tortured poets department

“You left your typerwriter at my apartment, straight from the tortured poets department” implying that this thing of which she is now part had been introduced to her by the muse

The muse has probably compared them to poets like Dylan Thomas and Patti Smith and probably romanticised their relationship into the work of a tortured poet, but that’s not real life.

Taylor brings back to reality that now because of his self sabotage that brought both of them down in this relationship, he has lost the one who will decode him, hold him, know him

the above are just little analyses i like making as i listen to the song, they have nothing to do about whether i like the song or not, it's just me trying to make sense of it. you'll see that a lot.

i do not like the charlie puth line. at all. why is it there?

also don't like the tattooed golden retriever line, the image of a tattooed golden retriever is terrifying.

i was so off-guard about the namedropping in this song, sorry i had no idea who dylan thomas or patti smith were.

this song is trying too hard to be poetic, i think (which one could argue is the whole point of this song), but it doesn't stand out much to me. the themes are interesting though.

this is a pretty weak title track, personally. i feel like it doesn't encapsulate the essence of the album (which i am confused about tbh, ttpd has a lot of aesthetics going on for itself). it has nothing on little fearless and evermore.

my boy only breaks his favourite toys

so we all thought this song would be pretty petty, but i honestly don't think it is extremely so. there's a sort of pity for the muse, that the breaking of his 'favourite toys' is a form of self sabotage and that they could've had it all.

i love how it starts so defeated, "oh here we go again", which i think is in reference to the muse's self sabotage ruining her life

it also feels a bit reflective and nostalgic of the fact that it wasn't all bad, which i quite liked. i liked the contrast of feelings.

"once i fix me, he's gonna miss me" is a devastating line btw

so is "he saw forever so he smashed it up"

song is a bop, i like the lyricism, overall i enjoy this song :)

down bad

i enjoy the cunty synth here ahaha. for all the jokes the fandom makes about jack fucking around with the synth while taylor sings the most soulcrushing lyrics, it is so real especially for this song.

taylor has never sounded so good while swearing. "fuck it if i can't have us" is such an earworm.

i feel like this is the most petty song in the album, mainly because of the "teenage petulance" in the lyrics

the callback to new romantics in the bridge is so insane, i noticed it immediately.

the production is so mystical and giving space alien vibes, i enjoy it.

so long, london

the intro is giving big ben bells and/or wedding bells

the fast beat vs the slow melodies is such an interesting juxtaposition (to my lit teacher, i hope i used this word right XD). i think it really highlights the conflicting feelings this song explores ("i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place") and also how taylor isn't able to keep up with how quickly the relationship is dying (the production) and she's still sifting through her feelings to find acceptance (the melody)

"how much sad did you think i had" something something "how long can we be a sad song" something something "don't want no other shade of blue but you"

the bridge is just the most devastating strike to my heart

"you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days" is one of my favourite lyrics on this album

track 5 is track 5ing

this song is a masterpiece, i genuinely love it so much

but daddy i love him

get this song out of my face, i hate it so much. blocked on spotify.

why did taylor have to waste good lyricism and production on such an awful premise and "fuck you" to her fans dishing valid criticism of her association with matty?

the baby line is hilarious though, because i did indeed fall for it the first time

like you can talk about taylor's agency all you want but everyone knows what the implications of this song are and i feel hurt and offended that this is the attitude both taylor and some swifties are taking.

"the most judgemental creeps" um, is this fucking play about us?

fresh out the slammer

her voice sounds beautiful in this

love the country twang in the production

it's giving getaway car thematically

i think it's interesting to see this song so soon after so long, london, where she says she was "going down with [the ship]" but she was literally dreaming about running into the arms of another man and was "[doing her] time". like ok girl!

vibey song but not for me. i don't have much to say on this.

florida!!!

IMMEDIATE FAVE, i had claimed this since day 1 and i was so right

cunty production, i can tell florence had a lot of influence. no more synths! bring out the drums!

at first, i had no idea what was happening in this song, but when taylor talked about it being about reinventing yourself, it made a lot more sense to me and i love that interpretation, it rings so true.

can i be honest and say that i thought it said "arms" not "home", like that doesn't even make sense 😭

florence's verse fucking slays, my only gripe is that her voice in the verse is kinda quiet compared to the instrumental. could've used some better mixing here.

"me and my ghosts had a hell of a time" is a banger of a line

the bridge is immaculate, has been in my head since i first listened to it.

this song is amazing, there is nothing like it, pure perfection. top song on the album.

guilty as sin?

obsessed with the beat

hedge maze = labyrinth = the mind, idk i just loved that connection

we have reached the ovulation song lmao

did you know it took me so long to realise the chorus was talking about masturbation? like i knew the song was horny, but i didn't realise it was THAT horny.

i think i called this a mature, sadder false god in my notes. that uncertain, sensual, desiring tone is probably what motivated that connection in my head.

WHAT IF HE'S WRITTEN MINE ON MY UPPER THIGH ONLY IN MY MIIIIIND

the bridge is so beautiful, i am a sucker for religious imagery.

overall i'm obsessed, beat good, lyricism good, i love it

who's afraid of little old me?

now i know this is the fan favourite, and i understand why. it gives an eery, angry vibe, and i also enjoy it. to some extent.

namely, the part i enjoy most is the circus imagery, i liked how she leaned into the circus animal metaphor to depict her struggles in fame and her relationships. it's like a badly behaved circus animal about to be put down absolutely losing it and raging about its plight, which i enjoy as a means of storytelling and expressing emotion. i also enjoy it as a callback to mirrorball and what happens when the mirrorball finally has had enough of shattering in a million pieces and performing for a largely uncaring crowd.

... which is why i don't like the asylum lyric. to me, it doesn't add in anything significant thematically when the rest of the song hardly has similar strains of discussion. not to mention the ableist overtones and trivialisation of the asylum experience but i just don't like this lyric. it weakens the premise of the song.

the production is also off in some places, it feels muted and underwhelming compared to the premise of the song.

it's an okay song, i 100% like the acoustic demo better that she came out with recently. some changes in production and the omission of that asylum lyric would put it higher up for me.

i can fix him (no really i can)

good thing this song is short because she couldn't fix him at all and i don't like this song.

"the jokes that he told across the bar were revolting and far too loud" euphemism for bigoted, taylor?

production is boring, the melody is also pretty boring. the lyrics are good, but not enough to save the song, in my humble opinion (it is after all my review here)

"good boy, that's right" taylor GET UP

the 'woah maybe i can't' is funny though, i'll give her that

loml

slayed, devoured, left no crumbs, left me emotionally devastated

the lyricism is absolutely beautiful, the sadness is tangible

the first time i listened to this, i was on the train, and i was so emotional, it was the perfect music to stare out the window to.

the impressionist painting line is also absolutely brilliant, took me out when i heard it. one of the best lyrics on the album.

the bridge and outro are the reasons i need therapy, destroyed me

loss of my life theorists won but at what cost.

i think some of taylor's simplest songs melodically have some of the most beautiful prose and emotional connection, i think she needs to tap into that more.

10/10 no notes.

i can do it with a broken heart

extreme whiplash hearing this after loml. similar whiplash to what taylor felt, i think, going on tour after such a heartbreak

someone pointed out that the almost metronomic beat and the faint counting in the background is like what taylor hears in her in-ear monitor on tour and i think that's really cool.

obsessed with this song so much

it has been stuck in my head since i first heard it

i never expected this to be the cuntiest song on the album but i am not disappointed at all.

"i cry a lot but i am so productive" is so mecore if i was actually productive

the ad libs at the end are also perfect

is it just me or can i hear crowd noises in the background?? am i imagining this??

i'm afraid the fandom is gravely misunderstanding this song. some are saying that taylor hates us because we were "shouting 'more!' " when she was feeling like this. some are saying that she doesn't resent us at all and that this song absolves us completely. those are both two extremes and my interpretation lies somewhere in the middle. this is not a callout to fans but also some factions of the fandom were (or are) being assholes demanding reputation tv and double albums all the time. acknowledge the nuance.

10/10 obsessed, fave song after florida!!!

the smallest man who ever lived

this song is good.

bridge of all time, indeed, she went OFF

the verses feel a bit meh to me but i love the chorus.

"you didn't measure up in any measure of a man" HAHA TAYLOR IT TOOK ME A SECOND TO GET THE DOUBLE ENTENDRE

this song is indeed petty, but it also feels defeated to me? like taylor just sounds tired of it all and quite hurt, that's what i got from it.

i also love the performance of this song on the eras tour. she is marching with an army and they keep taking hits throughout the song, until she eventually falls at the end. something something "the great war" something something "fighting with only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me", etc.

the alchemy

i feel a little let down by this song? because from the name, i assumed this song would be using the concept of alchemy being a medieval science of turning things into gold or finding a universal cure as a metaphor for a broken/dying relationship.

also i don't understand how this is meant to be a love song, sounds really sad to me? like almost defeatist in terms of how the relationship.

why am i being bombarded by football metaphors?

i mean, it sort of plays on the idea of alchemy being a sort of magical transformation, but to me, it just feels like a synonym for chemistry.

" 'cause the sign on your heart says it's still reserved for me" is a cute lyric though.

it's quite formulaic as a song and there's not much going on for me. anyway.

clara bow

i really enjoy the concept of this song being the torch of fame being passed onto different women, from clara bow to stevie nicks to taylor swift to whoever's next.

once again, it's quite simple melodically, but this is where she shines! the typewriter while she was writing this must have been on fire!!

i also love how it plays on the concept of being put onto a pedestal as a famous woman and how you're only appealing until people decide you're not

"it's hell on earth to be heavenly" is such a perfect lyric.

the namedrop of herself GAGGED me on first listen, i was amazed.

it's a perfect closer to the first half, putting everything into the perspective of her fame and passing the torch onto something else because society has decided out with old, in with the new.

the black dog

the thing about the location settings makes me so ill, he didn't even think to turn it off for her. they probably shared locations to make sure they could check up on each other, and it was still on. it is such a tiny thing but so devastating.

the buildup on "old habits die screaming" ohhhhh this is amazing

the best laid plans... hoax...

"i still miss the smoke" people are making parallels to daylight but my first thought was lavender haze, like missing the lavender haze, you know?

the priest lyric is so devastating if you think about the fact that taylor thought she'd be meeting a priest about this relationship for a different, happier reason...

obsessed with this song, it's so beautiful.

the quietness of the verses and the loudness of the chorus, i am genuinely entranced, it is cinema.

imgonnagetyouback

do not ask me to compare this song with olivia rodrigo's "get him back", they're both on different levels thematically and tonally even though they use the same double entendre.

what narcotics did she put in this bridge XD

so boppy, and sensual, i adore it

i remember going on a long search for the literary device that is present in "i hear the whispers in your eyes", decided it was antithesis with the help of my followers. not at all relevant, but wanted to add it.

the albatross

i can make a lot of parallels to peace with this song.

it's so eery and mythical, i love it, treats taylor like a fable, an urban legend.

aaron dessner is a fucking legend, i am loving the production on the anthology

my folkmore girlie self is loving the anthology for real

i love the bait and switch to "fake news", exposing these rumours for simply that, and saying that she's not the dangerous one, the "jackals rais[ing] their hackles" are.

i am always a sucker for when taylor changes from third person to first person narration, it's so important to me. bait-and-switch, you are everything to me.

10/10 no notes.

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus

heartbreakingly beautiful. just a general melancholy around the breaking down of a relationship and is so so perfect.

the hologram lyric is not about cheating at all. the relationship is long gone, this is taylor envisioning her muse in a new relationship but she isn't there, hence the hologram. i've seen some people say it was about cheating, that interpretation doesn't make sense to me.

"you turned me into an idea of sorts" -> "the idea you had of me, who was she?"

random thought, but the lyricism on the anthology is so much better and natural as compared to the first half. i enjoy the bops on the first half but it also suffers from trying too much to be poetic (i think i said this about the title track especially). there are so many overloaded lyrical runs and random references that leave me confused and overwhelmed. the anthology however feels so much more quintessentially taylor.

don't have much to say on the song itself, i quite like it.

how did it end?

the intro literally makes me ascend!!

i really love how this song investigates and criticises the inherent curiosity people have around big news like a breakup, constantly probing for details.

once again, the simpler songs contain the best lyricism and melodies!!

this song both explains and expresses confusion about the end of the relationship, so i love the paradoxical nature of that.

"we learn the right steps to different dances" is such a devastating line and i think sums up the end of many relationships so succinctly.

the second chorus is giving right where you left me: "did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?" etc.

THE BRIDGE, TAYLOR HOW DO YOU DO IT

the d-y-i-n-g part is just so devastating. taylor uses the themes of death and haunting so well on this album.

i know i've said this like 10 times, but this is just so so beautiful.

so high school

the guitar in the background is giving hits different, it hits different when it's you!!

despite the happy tone and lyrics, i do feel the sad, anxious undertone, the key example being the marry, kiss, or kill me part (the echoed "kill me", "it's just a game but really")

the aristotle and grand theft auto line has been used countlessly to shit on taylor's songwriting, and personally, i don't like this line. just doesn't hit right for me. however, i think it's unfair to pick cringe lyrics and ignore all the beautiful, meaningful ones to shit on taylor.

i do love the imagery with high school games like truth or dare and spin the bottle, really cements the "so high school" of it all.

this song is okay to me, it feels too american for me to enjoy it more lmao.

i hate it here

i love the poet and finance guy line at the beginning, it expresses a sort of desperation to get to know this person, to uncover their insecurities, deepest secrets, and love them anyway. it may also be introspective of taylor herself, idk.

calling comfort a construct is so quietly sad. convincing yourself since you've never had it, it can't be real because it's better than being cursed or doomed to never have it (see the prophecy)

this song is so escapist, but also so cynical about the escapism, it clearly isn't a preferred option, like it's not just escaping into childhood and nostalgia for the sake of it, it's because the real world fucking sucks.

the chorus slays, and is quite relatable.

the use of the word "precocious" is so interesting to me. she used it also in "but daddy i love him" if i remember correctly. like she resonates a lot with the feeling of being stunted in childhood or having seemed to never grow up -> "i have this thing where i get older but just never wiser" -> "i never grew up, it's getting so old" -> "i hit my peak at seven", idk i find it an interesting recurring theme in taylor's discography.

the 1830s line, and just that entire first half of the verse. i know why it's there, i know what it's doing, i know it's not meant to be taken seriously. still i don't like it. it also feels weird that she is calling out racism as a staple of the 1830s or whatever when she has shown us she is perfectly fine with dating a racist. you can say i'm being overdramatic. you can say i don't get it. idc. i try to ignore this part because this is a very good song and i love its themes and production.

"nostalgia is a mind's trick" i really love this because the entire song is so nostalgic for childhood and escapism but then she's like "actually nostalgia sucks" or it's not what it seems. no, the past would not have been better.

production feels like seven. themes quite different however (thematically, it would be robin, i think.)

the bridge combats the cynicism of the second verse which is so interesting to me. i love how opposing views on nostalgia and escapism are presented, the nuance is there.

the bridge is so mecore, i feel it in my bones.

thanK you aIMee

i really enjoy the small town as a microcosm for the giant music industry and reducing kim to a bully in this analogy.

this song is so cathartic for me, i really enjoy it in the lens of a friendship breakup.

she's so funny in this song "and so i changed your name and any real defining clues" while clearly spelling out her name in the song title.

the bridge fucking slays, likely thing for taylor to do.

it's such a breath of fresh air to have such a cathartic moment in an album that's largely dealing with huge emotions in huge ways, it's so interesting here as an addition to the anthology.

i look in people's windows

it's such a beautiful song and it's criminal how short it is

her voice sounds heavenly, i love how breathy it is.

it's giving "the outside" which is why i love it so much, i think

i think this not only works as a song grieving the end of a relationship but expressing the feeling of being left out in a current one; i definitely relate to it in that sense.

"does it feel alright not to know me?" is so so heartwrenching, i cannot do this

the prophecy

i am a sucker for mythology references so i'm already drawn in with the title.

once again, the song itself sounds so beautiful.

"i got cursed like eve got bitten" except she didn't get bitten?? the curse came after she ate the forbidden fruit?? i'm a bit confused here

WAIT NVM IT'S THE FACT THAT SHE DIDN'T GET BITTEN THAT'S THE WHOLE POINT OF THE SIMILE, HEAR ME OUT

saying something so factually incorrect and comparing it to her own experience implies that the latter is ALSO incorrect. she didn't "get cursed", she cursed herself!! which also defies the notion of "the prophecy", ohhhhhh i find this so interesting.

i think the notion of "a greater woman" or "a lesser woman" speaks to the expectations placed around women in relationships, they mustn't appear too desperate for love because that's undesirable but if they are nonchalant, they are also undesirable, it is worth exploring in terms of this song.

this song is so so sad and sadly so so relatable, i definitely find some comfort and resonance in this and it makes me really sad :(

i love the references to mythology and folklore made here, "the pricked hand" very obviously referencing sleeping beauty.

i always love it when taylor repeats the first verse at the end of a song, i think it speaks to the cyclical, circular nature of this specific feeling, that no matter how much she begs and pleads, "the prophecy" will never change.

cassandra

another mythology reference!!!

this being after "the prophecy" is so so deliberate, godssss

the piano is giving "mad woman", which i think is so fitting

"so they killed cassandra first 'cause she feared the worst" that's not actually why cassandra was killed in mythology but go off queen

"they say what doesn't kill you makes you aware" is an unreal run

that being said, i love it when taylor takes common sayings and aphorisms and gives them a twist. she does it a lot in this album, one of my favourite examples being "old habits die screaming" as a twist on "old habits die hard"

"blood's thick but nothin' like a payroll" i am hooked completely oml

10/10 no notes

peter

more folklore references, let's go!!!!

this song is so hauntingly beautiful, the lyricism is so poetic and flows perfectly, genuinely this is what i love about taylor

as a folklore girlie, i am WINNING with the anthology

i can't get over the "jet stream" line here vs "jet stream" in "call it what you want" 🫠

once again, a bridge that fucking slays, how does she keep doing it

it's so interesting how taylor grapples with the concept of childhood and precociousness in this album with so many mentions and callbacks to childhood and feeling stunted as a child and now, it really is an ode to "you're stuck at the age you became famous" (which is sad in many aspects but also problematic in others)

the chorus is also just so perfect, everything about this song is perfect.

the bolter

obsessed does not even cover it

what a banger start to a song

the chorus reminds me a lot of "illicit affairs", i think, interesting connections can be made there

"as she was leaving, it felt like breathing" as in a sigh of relief that it's over, but also she does it so often it is quite literally as quotidian and simple as "breathing"

i love taylor's tendencies to make songs in the third person narrative voice, i think her best storytelling comes out like this.

"there's escape in escaping"- i think this is sort of a commentary on how the identity of "the bolter" is like a coping/defense mechanism to ensure that she doesn't get hurt in a relationship, in that there is an escape from her insecurities, her worries, and the eminent pain she will face in the relationship by quite literally escaping.

but there's also often the bait and switch ("then it was bought by me", "i'm the albatross, i swept in at the rescue") but i find it so interesting that this song does not do that, if only i can make a meaningful analysis there, but my running theory is that she deliberately chooses to distance herself from the identity of "the bolter", bc while she does dote on this character and is rather affectionate in how she tells the story, she doesn't feel like attaching herself to it, in that maybe it's an identity she no longer wants to hold or that, like she frequently says, she doesn't believe these songs or stories are about her anymore and that they take on new meaning..

anyway i am loving this song, 10/10

robin

WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS SONG, IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL

it's so sweet how she is consoling the child, ensuring them that they should enjoy this time they have now, and that they will be kept safe from their future.

but it's so sad in that regard, like, "we don't wanna hurt you so we're not telling you how this will pan out to protect your childhood innocence".

this once again cements my preoccupation with taylor's discussions around childhood and youth, she mentions frequently how that was taken away from her too soon and how she has felt "precocious" because of it. it's so important to understand and this song should NOT be overlooked.

i really like it.

the manuscript

this song is so heartbreaking, i want to punch the wall

i never thought about the fact how doing the atw short film would have rekindled these old memories and feelings, and this song is surely a direct result of that. not surprising, in hindsight, but it still compelled me when i first heard it.

once again, youth being taken too soon!! precociousness!!

someone needs to take the word "precocious" away from me

"but the story isn't mine anymore" HHHHHHHHH THIS IS THE WHOLE POINT

very nice song, beautiful closer to the anthology and the entire album as a whole, "these stories used to be about me but now they're about you".

overall thoughts

i hate to say it, but i think this album is in a desperate need of editing; there's so much going on, most of which is compelling and worth exploring, but everything is disjunct with each other and i know this work is meant to feel messy, don't start with me there, but it shouldn't be messy to the point where it's confusing and overwhelming. there are so many concepts and metaphors that are so intriguing and clearly important in taylor's music but the final products of those become half-baked in mediocre production or mixing. this album feels rushed and is soaked with questionable decisions. for example, i think "i can do it with a broken heart" should have been a single and title track because i think it's such a central part of her experiences recently and clearly something permeating the rest of this collection, and how she learns to move on and cope in light of heartbreak. there are several moments where the lyricism of the album feels overwhelming and overcompensating, as in trying too hard to contain meaning. the best lyrical moments on this album are seamless and subtle, and very prosodic as well. taylor tried to deviate from that formula quite a bit and it didn't always work out for the best in this album. she is not as adept at throwing in conversational lyrics as her peers, her strength is in prose and storytelling. the production is also getting a bit old, it's very sonically cohesive, almost to the point of it being boring, and i think taylor needs to get a bit more experimental sonically, and also ensure that the melody and production work together in more different ways, and that maybe the melody is not relying on the production but vice versa. the album is certainly not all lows, but the lows are particularly lower than in other instances of her discography.

that being said, the highs on this album are absolutely breathtaking. the majority of the anthology and quite a few songs on this album captured me instantly. this album is quite mellow, and could have benefitted from another bop or two, but the ones we received were astounding!! this album also had some really strong lyricism, especially in the anthology, and it was so intriguing seeing the many metaphors and situations she used to express her feelings. her storytelling in particular really shone in this album in songs like "the albatross", "the bolter", "clara bow", "cassandra", "the manuscript" among others. i love the themes and ideas that taylor explored in this album, and overall the premises really compelled me.

in terms of rankings, i've separated the two halves. the first half (ttpd) is second-last and the second half (the anthology) is 8th out of 12 (not 11 because ttpd is split in two).

if you've read this far, congratulations, have a treat of your choice. please be mindful and respect my opinion, thanks!

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

my hill to die on is that the standard album is the best executed concept of her entire discography by far // literally a perfect album top to bottom. don't get me wrong, I love the anthology, but it's definitely the cherry on top of an already perfectly executed album. everything that needs to be there is already there. ttpd entered my top 3 taylor albums along with red and speak now and it would've still done so without the anthology.

@soberqueerinthewild and I were talking about it recently for this reason! The thing that gags me about TTPD, especially the standard album, is that it's essentially the "folklorization" of the deeply personal experience she's writing about from start to finish. And by that I mean, she uses all these allegories/imagined settings to tell specific chapters of her own story. It's why the album as a whole is very much an anthology! A collection of works! Except the conceit is that they are all part of one overarching story.

(tbh this is also true of Midnights to me in a very different way but that's a whole other topic)

I know I've posted this same thing a million times over the last year but:

Fortnight: Suburban Gothic nightmare - Prologue to the album

My Boy: Toy box/Island of Misfit Toys-esque metaphor - how she was broken down by someone who was supposed to love her

Down Bad: Alien abduction scenario - being love-bombed then crashing after it ends

But Daddy: Bible belt small-town scandal - being scrutinized for her choices by the public who don't know her or her life

FOTS: Prison metaphor - feeling caged by one relationship and the light of freedom hurtling her to another

Florida!!!: Thelma & Louise-esque escape - running away from her pain physically and emotionally

Who's Afraid: Asylum/Circus metaphor - the way the systems in place destroy people, and have destroyed her over and over again until she ended up in this place

I Can Fix Him: Wild West metaphor - Feeling like an outlaw jumping into a relationship that is clearly destructive but being in denial that you're not an outlaw, you're just another mark

Clara Bow: Narrative through three stars - Cynical commentary on the cycle that builds women up to tear them down and how it is imposed then self-perpetuating

When you fill these in with the more "realistic" songs, you have a fulsome telling of the experience from start to finish, and imo with a few exceptions nearly in chronological order.

The Anthology tracks are wonderful, and I love them, and appeal way more to my folkmore-wired brain sonically, but they're there to fill in the blanks of the standard album... Or rather, I think maybe explain how we got there in the first place. They're cohesive in that they very much tell part of the same story, but they're like... references you check in the footnotes of the standard album songs. You see the metaphorically little number in a standard song and then check the Anthology song that fully explains the context of it.

[youareinlove]

Fresh Out the Slammer and So Long London is great at depicting the why the whole storyline of base TTPD started. And then Fortnight and I Hate It Here is great and bringing how bad that decision was back to reality. Fortnight is the fantasy she’s making, but I Hate It Here reveals that this song that seems like it’s about longing is actually all a coping mechanism to deal with the dull depressing life of Fresh Out the Slammer and So Long London

interesting! i see what you mean about fresh out the slammer and so long london, as well as how fortnight and i hate it here are connected. for me, guilty as sin? is the song that best exemplifies the fantasy she's creating to escape her reality (drowning in the blue nile, he sent me downtown lights), especially since i hate it here is more representative of a larger problem that led to guilty as sin-ing

[spartanguard]

when Emma falls in love [from the vault]

Summary: When Emma falls in love, I know that boy will never be the same | When she came to Storybrooke, finding love was the farthest thing from Emma's mind. Until she started to get to know Ian, the bartender down at the Rabbit Hole. A crush is the last thing she needs—not when she's in the middle of a murder investigation and her son keeps talking about curses. Or maybe it's exactly what both of them need. [Inspired by "When Emma Falls In Love" by Taylor Swift] A/N: This is the next in my series of fics inspired by Taylor Swift's vault tracks (mostly from Speak Now (Taylor's Version), but there will be more!). Wanted to post this before we all died from TTPD tomorrow ;) I think this is also my favorite of the ones I've written so far; hope you like it, too! And, as always, thank you to @optomisticgirl for being the best beta ever. rated T | 6.2k words | AO3

When the door swung open, Emma was half expecting it to be someone from downstairs yelling at her to stop her pacing; too many years living in crappy apartments had done that to her. But it was just Mary Margaret, coming home from work.

That said— “Uh, you okay? If you pace any harder, you’re gonna wear a hole in the floor,” her roommate remarked.

“Ugh, sorry,” Emma answered, taking a seat at one of the barstools at the counter. “It was that or attacking the toaster again.”

“You didn’t get fired again, did you?” Mary Margaret asked as she set a bag of groceries on the counter. “‘Cause last I checked, you were your own boss.”

Emma scoffed. “No; just…other stuff.” She swallowed. “Boy stuff?” (She wasn’t sure why she said it like it was a question, other than the fact that she’d never been one to talk about relationships or anything—never had anyone she could talk to about that, so she wasn’t sure if this was the right way to start.)

“Well, that’s convenient,” Mary Margaret said, and reached into the paper sack. “I bought wine,” she finished, pulling out a cheap screw-top bottle of rosé.

“Might need more than that.”

“Good thing I got two,” she answered, producing another.

They curled up at opposite ends of the couch, not even bothering with wine glasses. After a few (hefty) sips, Mary Margaret looked at her pointedly and Emma was suddenly very aware of why her students respected her so much. “Okay. Spill.”

Emma sighed, but obliged. “Okay, you know the bartender down at the Rabbit Hole?”

“Not well, but I know who he is. Ian, right?”

“Yeah, Ian Johnson. He, uh…I mean, I…” She hummed. “I think I like him.”

“Oh my god, you sound like one of my fifth graders,” Mary Margaret replied. “You’re attracted to him? Or maybe a little more?”

Emma took another pull from her bottle. “Maybe a lot more.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

(His ass was fantastic, but that was beside the point.) “But…you know how I am. My history. It hasn’t really been that long since Graham…” She still had a hard time saying died.

“I know,” Mary Margaret said softly. “No one says you have to rush into anything. But if you’re feeling something, it doesn’t hurt to pursue it. Especially if he seems to reciprocate.”

Well, that was her other conundrum, wasn’t it: did he? Much like her, he wasn’t really prone to showing emotion—not noticeably, at least; he wore an air of apathy as well as he did his dark-wash jeans. In fact, she didn’t give him much thought after she first met him—when she’d been called to the bar to drag Leroy to the drunk tank on one of her first overnight shifts as a deputy. 

She’d definitely seen him, though; Ian was certainly easy on the eyes—perfectly disheveled hair above light blue eyes, just the right amount of gingery stubble, and a hint of chest hair visible through the open vee of his appropriately tight henley—but her thoughts towards him didn’t go deeper than the surface. She also hadn’t missed the quick once-over he gave her, though she couldn’t tell if it was in appreciation or merely assessment.

It wasn’t until her following visit (Leroy’s next trip to the station’s overnight accommodations) that he did more than hum at her, but there was very little effort in the casual pickup line he threw at her (and she did her damnedest to ignore the lilt of his foreign accent).

She knew his kind—or so she thought: the type of asshole who hid behind a pretty face and a quick come-on and that was all it took to get into a girl’s pants. Frankly, that was something she’d fallen for a few too many times, but not here—not in Storybrooke. Not when Regina was constantly looking for a reason to send her out of town (even if she won that sheriff election fair and square, Gold’s involvement notwithstanding) or limit her time with Henry.

It wasn’t until the first time she got a call at the bar after Graham died that she exchanged more than passing pleasantries with him. Ian wasn’t the first to express his condolences, but he was the first to say, “It’s just not fair.” That was exactly how she felt, too. And that’s when things started to shift between them.

(Apparently, he and Graham went way back—he didn’t specify how far, but it sounded like a while, the kind of vague forever that seemed prevalent in such a small town. Graham had helped him out of a few scrapes, and vice versa. “He was a good man,” Ian had concluded. “Seems those always go too soon.” It felt like there was more to go with that statement, but then “Only the Good Die Young” had come on the jukebox and it was a little too on the nose and she had to get out of there.)

But it really took a turn the night he intervened while she was breaking up a bar fight, getting in the way of a drunken punch meant for her and taking it in the cheek instead. (That was also the night she finally noticed his left arm ended not in a hand, but a prosthesis, as she made the assailant wait in the squad car while she put together an ice pack for Ian’s face; she also found out that night that he mixed a mean whiskey sour.)

So they were…she wasn’t sure if they could really say “friends” after that—not quite a team, either; allies, maybe? Whatever it was, it was definitely something she needed. 

She started to run into him at Granny’s after that. The first time, she was getting her morning coffee before heading into the station; he was getting some tea before heading home after closing the bar. Then they’d see each other at lunch hour; if the diner was full, they shared a booth. But then that became something of a habit, too, on the days he didn’t close and she didn’t work overnight (though they eventually started another of sharing a drink at the end of their late-night shifts).

Admittedly, it was a little awkward at first; Emma had never been great at the whole small-talk thing (and even worse at the making-friends thing)—but on the bright side, so was he. She found out little things, like when a favorite song would come on (“Behind Blue Eyes” was up there, unsurprisingly/heartbreakingly), or when she’d ask for a liquor recommendation (rum—always rum). She let slip at one point how much she enjoyed Motown, and he quickly picked up on her hot chocolate order.

More solid information came to light later; as she’d guessed, he was a loner, too—no family left, and had drifted around England and the US until he ended up in Storybrooke, somehow. He made an appreciative comment about her being a fellow jailbird over a beat-up copy of that awful article in the Mirror, but his face fell when she mentioned how old she’d been—a rare emotional moment for him. (But not as intense as when she’d commented on the tattoo on his forearm late one night, and the unmistakable look of loss took over; all they could do at that point was make a toast to living through heartbreak.)

It was…she didn’t want to say easy, but it was nice—there were no expectations, no responsibilities. Just the pleasure of each other’s company, and a sense of kindred comraderie. 

She was also aware, but ignoring the fact, that the less she knew, the better. There was less chance that he was lying to her or holding something back; less chance for him to get disappointed in who she was. (Less chance to be hurt.) 

“He does, right?” Mary Margaret’s question dragged her back to the present. 

Which brought Emma to the downside of being attracted to someone whose walls abutted hers: it was hard to get a read on what was going on in his head, especially when he wasn’t outwardly expressive (more than when they first met, but it was still rare). All she could do was shrug at her roommate and take another pull of wine. 

“Yeah, he’s always come off as kind of aloof,” Mary Margaret agreed. “Not altogether unfeeling—more like, not a lot?”

Emma was the last person to make any comments there. What was it she’d said to Graham? “Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you're feeling sucks.” They both had reason enough for that. 

“But it looks like you’ve gotten closer to him than anyone in a while,” her roommate went on, “and vice versa?”

“More or less,” Emma conceded. “Present company notwithstanding.”

“I’m honored. And you know what I say about hope,” she answered. 

Emma did, but wasn’t sure she was ready to say she was that far in. She extended the end of her bottle to Mary Margaret, who clinked her own against it in solidarity. 

By the end of the night, she had no further clarity on the situation and the beginnings of a hangover. Maybe she was overthinking it—or maybe it wasn’t even worth overthinking; it’s not like these things ever worked out in her favor anyway.

But…she did keep thinking about hope. 

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

Her friends eventually dragged her out to the Rabbit Hole for a girls’ night. They’d cited the fact that she missed all the excitement on Valentine’s Day, with Ashley’s engagement, so she needed to make up for it. 

Despite still being new to the whole having-female-friends thing (having any friends, really), she had fun. Ian poured the drinks strong and sent more than a few small, sideways grins her way as he watched her dance with the others. She was hoping her subsequent blush could be blamed on exertion or alcohol, except—

“Oh my god,” Ruby yelled at her as they returned to their booth for a refreshment. “Just go screw him already.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been eye-fucking the bartender all night! Go do something about it!”

Well, now her cheeks surely matched her bright red dress—and, to make it worse (or better, Ruby would probably say), when she glanced over at Ian a moment later to see if he’d heard, he was smirking and raised an eyebrow as soon as she caught his eye.

(They hadn’t crossed that line yet but—it had been close. She’d been all too aware of the proximity of their lips when she was helping him shut down last week and they’d collided in the back hall—her hands on his firm chest, his coming to her waist, the dart of her eyes to his mouth—she’d basically sprinted out of there.)

There was definitely an itch to scratch, but she wasn’t about to go there with him. Because she knew, with him, it would be so much more than that. (And if he didn’t reciprocate…that would be even worse.)

“So I hear you’ve been hanging out with the bartender,” Regina asked her one day after she dropped Henry off at the mayor’s house.

Emma shrugged. “I guess,” she answered, downplaying whatever it was they had—if only because she had a feeling Regina would find a way to weaponize it. 

(Also, he was good with Henry—like, really good, maybe even better than she was. For someone who didn’t appear to care much about…anything, he always seemed to brighten and engage so much more around her kid whenever they ran into him at Granny’s. He even indulged Henry’s theories about the “curse”, but her son hadn’t decided who Ian was in this supposed other life. Emma didn’t have any ideas, either, if only because that meant Ian was the one person safe from Henry’s childlike scrutiny.)

“Even with everything he’s done?”

That got her attention. “What has he done?”

“More like what hasn’t he done; you’re the sheriff—you could look up his rap sheet. He’s got some blood on those hands—well, hand. Has he even mentioned how that happened?”

“No,” Emma said stiffly. “He hasn’t.”

“I don’t suppose he’s mentioned anything about his ex either, then. Who was married.”

“Uh, no.”

“Well, maybe you should look into it—so you can be aware of just who you’re allowing around my son.”

The mayor pointedly closed the door at that, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts—never a good combination. She was mulling it over on the drive to the station—how much did she actually believe what Regina was saying? 

But her curiosity was too piqued to let it rest. She felt like the biggest asshole, but after she got settled for the start of her shift, she ended up in the records room, particularly in front of the drawer labeled H–J.

As much as she didn’t want to—she had to know. She slid the drawer open and dug through the folders, until she found the one near the back labeled Johnson, Ian Brennan.

It was thick.  His ‘jailbird’ comment from a while back returned to her; she thought he’d been joking at the time.

She didn’t look inside until she was in her office, with the door shut—not that she expected any visitors, least of all him (he was working anyways), but she still felt like she was doing something wrong, even if she had perfectly legal access to these files.

She took a deep breath and flipped it open.

Ian was glaring at her from the photo paper-clipped to the stack of forms—a bit younger, a bit angrier than the man she knew, with a fire in those blue eyes she’d never seen, even from behind a layer of guyliner and shaggy bangs. 

Beneath it, typed out, it listed his name, birthdate (although the year was smudged beyond recognition), that he was born in England, and a charge for drunk driving.

The next sheet: illegal possession of a firearm.

The next several that followed included a handful of drug-related charges, mostly involving the transporting of them.

The last page said manslaughter.

She slammed the folder shut and threw it in the empty bottom drawer of her desk.

In vain, she tried to pretend she hadn’t seen it. Maybe someone planted it there? She wouldn’t put it past Regina, though as to why, she couldn’t guess. The comments about an affair, though—she’d done the whole dating-a-married-guy thing; it hadn’t ended well, but it still wasn’t something she was keen on.

For the next week or so, she managed to avoid him—took all her Granny’s orders to go; sent Ruby to deal with anything at the bar; and one time, ran down an alley when she saw him coming the opposite way down the sidewalk. (She didn’t say she was mature about it…or subtle.)

When she got home later that week, there were two bottles of rosé on the counter again. “My turn,” Mary Margaret said, handing one over.

Was infidelity just a thing here? Because now her roommate was dealing with it, too. Emma’s opinion of David wasn’t the highest at the moment—he couldn’t string her best friend along and stay with his wife—but the longer Mary Margaret pursued this, the more heartache it was gonna cause.

“Thanks for talking to me about it,” she said, halfway through the bottle. “What about you? How are things with Ian?”

Emma took a long, long drink. 

“Gotcha,” Mary Margaret said knowingly.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

It came to a head when she was in the station one morning, having arrived to her shift early in order to avoid seeing him at the diner. She was dealing with some paperwork when she heard the front door open. “In here,” she called out, assuming it was Regina telling her off for something she hadn’t done right. Footsteps approached. “What would you like to yell at me about today, Madam Mayor?” she asked sarcastically.

“I hadn’t planned on yelling, but I did want to ask why you’ve been avoiding me.”

Oh shit. Ian was there in the doorway, a coffee cup and bag from Granny’s in his hand, and a serious set in his stare.

“I haven’t,” she lied, then turned back to the computer screen (not that it was doing anything—it still ran Windows 98, after all). “I’ve just been busy.”

“See, I’m actually quite perceptive,” he replied, then stepped forward to set the foodstuffs on the corner of her desk. “And this? This is avoiding.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Yeah,” she had to admit. They’d always been honest with each other, even if they’d clearly withheld some things. And given how poorly her attempted lie a moment ago went, it would be dumb to try to again.

“What is it, love? Did I do something wrong?”

She opened her eyes to look up at him, and regretted it—he looked genuinely hurt. What she was about to do probably wouldn’t help.

Staying seated, she bent down to open the bottom drawer on her desk, and then pulled out his file. Then she carefully set it in front of her.

He immediately recognized it, she could tell. “Ah.”

“I’m sorry; I was talking to Regina and she said some things and—curiosity got the best of me.”

“I see.”

She couldn’t tell if he was angry or hurt—or both—but either way, she felt like an ass. May as well throw fuel on the fire. “She mentioned something about your ex, too—specifically, her marital status.”

“She did, did she?” His words were suddenly emotionless.

“Is…is that all you’re gonna say?” she eventually asked quietly.

He blinked slowly, as when he opened his eyes, they were just a bit duller—a bit more reserved. (That was worse than anything else she’d seen recently.)

“What else needs to be said, Swan?” he shrugged. “You apparently have all you need to know right there, between that and whatever the mayor has told you.”

His gaze settled somewhere near the floor and silence stretched uncomfortably between them. Even louder to her, though, was the fact he was just…accepting it. 

“Seriously?” she snapped. “You’re not gonna defend yourself, or fight back at whatever is incorrect in my assumptions?”

He furrowed his brow. “What good would it do?”

“Show me you give a crap!” she shouted, standing so fast it sent her rolling chair sliding into the wall. “Because I’m trying to figure out whatever the hell this is,” she went on, gesturing between them, “but I can’t tell if you actually care or not.”

Finally, something steely settled in his gaze. 

“Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you’re feeling sucks,” he stated, plainly but pointedly. 

She swallowed at the recitation of what she once had said to Graham. She already knew she wasn’t the first sheriff to strike up a friendship with him, but she was probably the only one Ian had thrown their own words back at. 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it go away,” she countered. 

“If you do it long enough, it does.”

“And then what? You just never feel anything for the rest of your life?” God, Mary Margaret was really rubbing off on her—though that didn’t mean her calling him out wasn’t a little hypocritical. 

“It had been working well for me.”

“Fine then,” she spat. “You can go back to your lonely existence and I’ll fuck off to mine and we’ll just leave it at that.” She crossed her arms and curled in on herself; she was definitely pouting, but the alternative was flopping back in her seat and crying. 

His face relaxed, almost going the other way into a frown. “Bloody hell, that’s not what—no, love, I—I just thought you knew me better than that,” he admitted, almost apologetically. 

“Well, apparently I don’t,” she parroted back. “I’m wondering if I know anything about you. This is some serious shit, Ian.”

“And I thought you of all people might understand that,” he said matter-of-factly. “I remember the headlines after you arrived in town; just because you have a badge now doesn’t mean you’ve always been on the right side of the law, either.”

“I’m not pretending I didn’t!”

“Neither am I. I just don’t go broadcasting it, given that I still have the option not to.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’d be telling people I killed someone either.”

“I—” He started to talk, but then closed his mouth and clenched his jaw. After taking a deep breath, he said, “Not that I really need to, but can I tell you the full story? Before you completely write me off?”

She nodded, but held back what she was really thinking: that she didn’t want him to write himself off. 

“I did get into some bad shit,” he started. “My brother was gone, my ex had just died, and I was suddenly an amputee, so I was alone and spiraling. Fell in with the wrong crowd—classic story. Got in deep with a drug ring, and then I got caught. Killed a member of a warring cartel in the process. But, by some miracle, I had a great lawyer. They got a few of the charges thrown out for lack of evidence and I reached a plea deal on the others, along with a heavily reduced sentence for my cooperation in taking down much of the rest of the ring. Did my time, now I’m here. And I regret it every day.”

“Damn.” That was heavier than expected. 

“Aye.” He scratched nervously behind his ear. “Anything else?”

She chewed her bottom lip; she was nervous to ask, but she had to. “So, your ex…”

“My ex was married when we met. But it wasn’t a happy marriage. And I didn’t lure her away, or whatever may have been said—she ran off with me. But I loved her, so I went with it. Until her husband found us and went mad. Tried to cut off my hand; stabbed her. Doctors had to take it the rest of the way off,” he explained, raising his prosthesis. “Add that to the list of reasons why I fell in with the wrong people.” 

Fuck. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

“Indeed.” He toyed with the fingers on his false hand for a moment, and then looked back up at her. “But Swan, why couldn’t you just ask me that? Rather than take the word of a woman who we’ve all seen lie to you—to everyone—before.”

She swallowed. “Because I couldn’t take the chance I was wrong about you.”

“Were you?” 

It took her by surprise. “Was I what?”

“Were you wrong about me?” He was staring back at her intently, like he hadn’t just asked a simple but potentially earth-shattering question—but also looked like he was bracing for impact.

She nearly stopped breathing. Not that she had planned any part of this conversation, but when she imagined talking to him again, she thought it’d be more about her figuring out whether he’d let her inside his walls. Logically, it was only fair that he did the same; it was just the first time anyone had followed her in—not to mention challenged her once they were there. (Especially not someone with intense blue eyes, bolder than she’d yet seen them.) And she didn’t know how to respond.

“Because I know I’m not the biggest catch or anything—I’m certainly not Graham—” he went on (and apparently knew where to sting her), “and yeah, I probably still drink a bit more rum than is advised, but other than this—” he nodded at the folder, “—I’ve been nothing but honest with you. So now it’s up to you to decide: whatever it is you’re worried about—were you wrong?”

It had been a long-ass time since anyone had been that bluntly honest with her. (And never someone she was interested in.)

He was right—her lie detector had never gone off with him, either. (It also hadn’t when Regina was gossiping, but it was a little less accurate with noticing exaggerations or omissions.) 

He’d never really answered her earlier question, though. “I just need to know one thing,” she said as she stepped around the desk. “I’m not alone in feeling…this, right?” she asked, blatantly stepping into his space. 

“No,” he confirmed on a breath.

“Then no, I wasn’t wrong. I think what I was actually scared of…was that I was right.”

“Right?”

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and quickly found his lips, kissing away any further confusion. (As she was finding out, they were both a bit better at nonverbal communication.)

(And he did taste a bit like rum, but—she liked it.)

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

She wanted to say things changed from there—they took it fast, or slow, or whatever—but in reality, their relationship really didn’t change. There were still the meals at Granny’s, the nights at the bar. She’d never really been a date-night kind of girl. But emotionally—woah. 

It was like she was seeing a whole other side of Ian—but at the same time, it felt like it had always been there, just hiding below the surface. It wasn’t a universal thing—he was still a bit reserved while at work, or around just about anyone other than her and Henry—which made what they had feel all the more special.

There were also more than a few makeout sessions sprinkled in there, too. (Being chased out of the back hall of Granny’s by said proprietress, giggling like teenagers, was one of her more cherished memories since arriving here.)

For a short while, it was simple and sweet and it made her happy. For a little bit, she maybe had the kind of life she’d always hoped—with her son, friends, and a guy she really liked.

But it was like the universe noticed or something—no, Emma Swan couldn’t simply have nice things. Shit always, inevitably hit the fan.

Starting with having to arrest and book her roommate for murder.

She texted ahead and he had a shot waiting for her when she got to the bar after, then a couple more after that. She was definitely loitering—and he could tell. “What is it, love? Aside from the obvious.”

One thing she’d realized: he was exceedingly good at reading her, like a book he couldn’t put down.

“I don’t want to go back to the apartment,” she admitted. “It’s not that I’m afraid to be alone, but knowing that she’s in a cell and I’m there—and that someone may have been in the loft—I just…it freaks me out a bit.”

He swallowed. “Forgive me if this is too forward, but…I could go with you,” he offered. “At least to make sure everything is safe.”

“I’d like that.”

The walk to the loft from the Rabbit Hole was short but filled with energy; there was literally no reason for her to be any sort of excited, but she never invited guys back to her place. Even if she had no plans of anything intimate happening, this was something of a big step for her.

Of course, it ended up being anticlimactic—there was nothing amiss in the flat—but she was still hesitant to want to leave his presence, while at the same time not wanting to seem needy or like she was coming onto him in a subversive way.

“I, uh, could sleep on the couch, if you’d feel better,” he offered, doing that adorable nervous scratch behind the ear. Right—it had been a while for him with this kind of stuff, too.

“Um, yeah, I would. Thanks.”

That was the night she learned he snored—but the sound eventually lulled her to sleep, too.

As it did for the next few nights.

Then came the one after she narrowly escaped that crazy Jefferson’s house with Mary Margaret. She was still shaking as she took the stairs to the apartment and almost didn’t notice Ian sitting on the landing, nearly tripping over his feet.

“Swan, what’s wrong? You never answered my texts so I got worried and came here and, well—I wasn’t sure who to call when the sheriff is the one missing.”

She invited him in—or tried to, but she was trembling so much, she could barely get the key in the lock. Not until his steady hand wrapped around hers and helped. 

Once inside, she nearly collapsed just closing the door—both out of relief, and because her adrenaline was finally wearing off. But Ian caught her. And for the first time in years, she let herself be comforted by someone else. (She didn’t cry—she wasn’t ready for that kind of vulnerability yet—but this was kind of a big deal.)

“Do you want me to stay on the couch again tonight?” he murmured when she began to sway, fatigue winning over. She shook her head into his shoulder. (Also: he smelled good. Like, real good.) “Should…should I go?” She shook her head again.

Emma wasn’t a spooner. She took what she needed and then she left. But that was the night she understood why people enjoyed it so much. And waking up still wrapped in his strong arms was a kind of comfort she hadn’t known existed.

There was a brief—but weird—reprieve from the emotional heaviness when it turned out Kathryn Nolan was miraculously alive (despite her heart supposedly being outside her body), and then they held a party to welcome Mary Margaret back home. She shared (more than) a few drinks with Ian after the former; their first official outing as a couple, if it could be called that, was the latter. Mary Margaret arched an eyebrow and smirked at her as she and Ian moved around the kitchen getting ready. Emma just blushed—and then blushed harder when Ian pressed a quick kiss on her cheek as he stepped past her.

Then August kind of went crazy—his offer of help in dealing with the Regina-Sidney-whatever turned into another journey of emotional whiplash. She slumped onto what had become her usual stool at the bar, just a few minutes before close. Ian put some tea in front of her rather than anything stronger and took her upstairs after he’d locked up. He lived there, apparently, in a pretty spartan studio apartment. 

“Tell me,” he said gently. Not long ago, she would have brushed something like that off—but not anymore; not with him.

“I’m just tired of all this crap. Not just Regina—the whole curse thing, too. It was fine when it was Henry and I could play along, but now August? And he just—expected me to solve his problem? Just like that? No—no way.” She sighed. “It’s like everyone wants something from me or to fit some role; no one wants just Emma.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong,” he teased lightly. “Because I do.”

Well. She couldn’t argue with that.

And it became all the more obvious when she attacked his lips—and realized the rest of him was in agreement. She’d hesitated to take their relationship to that level; physical relationships were what she was used to, but adding in the emotional layer was something else—something more. 

But, as she learned, that was in a good way.

And while drifting off into a post-coital slumber while wrapped in Ian’s steady arms, she didn’t really care what went on in the outside world—as long as she had this.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

Should have known that’s when it would all really, truly crash down on her. Henry—god—seeing him in that hospital bed…and not being able to do anything…but it worked: she believed. In magic, the curse—everything. (Especially once Regina confirmed it.)

So now she was on a mission, practically storming from the hospital—when she ran into a pair of arms she’d give anything to just be able to take shelter in right now. “Love—is Henry okay? What’s going on?”

For a minute, she just looked in Ian’s eyes: that now-familiar blue that carried a wisdom beyond his years and echoed his every emotion, so different now from when she’d first met him—but in a good way. The way his worry creased his brow, the weight of his hand on her waist. If the world was about to change, she wanted to memorize him—them—in this moment. “Is everything alright?” he asked again.

She rose up on her toes to give him a firm, but all-too-brief kiss. “It fucking will be,” she told him, then ran off to save the world—or something.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

An eternity later (really only a couple hours, but holy shit did it feel longer), she had fought a dragon and then apparently broken a goddamn curse with True Love’s Kiss. All that really mattered was that Henry was okay, but all around her, everyone was coming to terms with what had been done to all of them.

She’d never expected to find out the waitress was a werewolf, or the therapist was a freaking cricket—and really never thought she’d be reunited with her parents. It was amazing, but it was also a lot.

She left Henry with his grandparents—god, grandparents—so she could take a minute and just—breathe.

The salty sea air hit her nose and she realized her feet had taken her to the docks. The view of the sea was soothing, but then she saw someone else there taking in the horizon—someone familiar. He wore the same clothes—the same motorcycle jacket, the black sweater that fit him extremely well, atop his usual dark jeans. But rather than the hand-like prosthesis she’d come to recognize, there was a hook—a freaking stereotypical pirate hook—at the end of his left arm.

(Henry had told her the fairytale counterpart of just about everyone in town—except for Ian. The illustrations in his book were good but maybe not distinct and there were a few options. She had a pretty good idea who it was narrowed down to now, though.)

“Ian?” she asked as she approached, partly to get his attention—and partly because she wasn’t sure who she was talking to.

He turned at the sound of her voice, but looked confused. Until he blinked and shook his head. “Aye, it’s me,” he answered, moving toward her. “My real name, though—it’s Killian, Killian Jones; it…took me a minute there.”

Killian. Similar, but different. It suited him. 

But also: Kill-Ian—was the man she held so important now gone, effectively killed by his new—true—self?

“So…how much was real? About you?” she had to ask.

“Some of it.” Apparently that nervous ear scratch carried over. “I am—was—am? A pirate, for decades, until I was caught.”

“Captain Hook?” she wondered, nodding at his prosthesis.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me,” he smirked. It was similar to the one she knew—the same dimple—but it had a darker edge to it.

“Who hasn’t?” she replied, ignoring the bit of discomfort that was…well, adding to her overall sense of unease.

“The truth—my actual life—is a bit more gruesome than what I once told you. I wanted revenge for the murder of my love. That part was true—she had been the Dark One’s wife, and he killed her, then took my hand.” He emphasized it by toying with the (rather sharp) end of his hook.

Right; Mr. Gold was apparently—actually—a centuries-old sorcerer. “I’m not gonna have to lock you up for going after him, am I?”

“No. See, I got sloppy; I lost sight of things, and that’s how I was caught—by your parents’ kingdom, actually. Was about to be hanged when the Evil Queen’s knight rescued me. Graham.” Her heart skipped a beat. “In return, I offered them my services should they ever need them. Never heard from them again, and then got swept up in the curse.”

She swallowed. “Did she ever take you up on it? During the curse?”

He shook his head. “Never.”

“So, us…” God, she couldn’t even put it into words. If what they’d shared wasn’t…hadn’t meant…she couldn’t fathom.

He very quickly moved into her space and took her hand. “That was very real, Swan.” His gaze had never felt more intense as he went on. “It was my understanding that the curse twisted things—changed us. I had always been someone who felt things very strongly and deeply; it’s why I was so single-mindedly focused on revenge for decades. But then under the curse…I felt nothing—not a bloody thing, for years on end—until I met you, and it all came back. It was like my heart was turned back on—like you brought me back to life.” He rubbed his coarse thumb over the back of her hand. “I know you’re probably questioning things again—especially given that you don’t fully know me, the real version, now—but Emma, I still know you, and I still desperately want you.”

She sighed in relief and nearly sagged into his arms. “Good. Because I think I love you.”

He smiled; it started as a small thing, but he couldn’t hold back from turning into a grin. “That’s appropriate, because I’m fairly certain I love you, too.”

There was a lot she needed to figure out—her life was all kinds of a mess right now—but him—this—whoever he was, he was hers. Even if she didn’t fully know him, it still felt like her heart fit right in the palm of his hand (and vice versa).

She wasted no further time in wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his; he was equally quick to reciprocate.

And, actually? Killian kissed even better than Ian did.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

thanks for reading! Tagging some friends (including the fabulous and supportive Word Forge): @ohmightydevviepuu @shireness-says @iverna @thejollyroger-writer @wistfulcynic @phiralovesloki @initiala @idoltina @xpumpkindumplingx @cocohook38 @kmomof4 @colinoeyebrows @pirateherokillian @annytecture @stubblesandwich @wingedlioness @scientificapricot @snowbellewells @searchingwardrobes @jrob64 and I know there's more I tend to include but tumblr is being weird about it rn.

[arviyya]

Fic Masterlist:

hi i'm murph ✴

ao3

In a Jegulus and Rosekiller sandwhich.

Finished:

✦ Microfics on my other account @viyyasvividry

⛧ I Killed It, So It's Mine: 1/1

Jegingsley — Vampire au; As vampires, Regulus and James have three rules. One: Don't fuck where you eat. Two: Don't eat what you fuck. Three: Don't kill. It's all about survival, in the end. And if they don't kill, no one asks questions. Well, after two hundred years, all it takes is a handsome stranger with a touch of too much curiosity to break the streak.

⛧ Temperance: 1/1

Pandalily — Vampire au; Lily is left for dead in the woods by a monster—and is found by a God.

☼ It's Beginning to Look alot like Avoidance: 6/6

Jegulus — Coffee shops; Christmas markets and scarves; friends, cackling fires, knit blankets and Christmas lights; All things Regulus hates to admit that he kind of loves. But that’s it—that’s the only room he has for love in his life, especially this time of year. The one thing he will not admit is the way his mind is also infected with twisted sheets, and the smell of oak and whiskey. It’s beginning to look alot like avoidance, whether that’s purposeful or not.

☼ Love Was The Law: 1/1 -TTPD Gift Fest

Jegulus — James wipes his tears between laughs, kissing Regulus on the head as he tells a familiar story he’s heard a million times about people they’ll never see again. The air is thick, but James has never breathed easier. Love spills from them in waves that stretch to every corner of the universe. It wasn’t long ago that James realized the truth. The truth in the power of his silly little invisibility cloak. Or: their story in canon but without all the death.

☼ Venom Dripping In Your Mouth: 1/1 -strutting slut fest

Jegulus/rosekiller — Regulus is a bio-chem undergrad fulfilling a humanities credit when he realizes there may be something strange about his professors, James and Evan. He finds more than he bargains for when he decides to test his theory with his best friend Barty in tow, leading to Regulus and Barty becoming human sippy cups.

⚘ Meet Me In The Woods: 1/1 -Black Star Productions

Rosekiller — Barty and Evan have been on the run for months, leaving their disapproving fathers in their wake. Traveling the countryside, they wither and fade into the landscape as points A, B and Z blur into each other and any sense of direction seems lost to time. Sometimes, adventures help us grow, sometimes we lose ourselves along the way.

⚘ On Those Peanut Butter Vibes: 1/1 -the marauders creature fic fest

Rosekiller — Barty is a shapeshifter, Evan is his boyfriend, and they go to the fair.

Works in progress:

✴ A Song of Serpents: 19/36 for volume 1

Jegulus, Rosekiller, Dorlene - background Wolfstar; Canon Divergent Hogwarts/post Hogwarts au; Regulus, James, Evan, Barty, Dorcas POVs — Love is in the air, but so is war. War is violent, but so is love; and grief is the stain left behind when love bleeds.

ⵜ A Taste of Sin: 7/16 -Siriuslyhozierfest

Rosekiller - background Jegulus, Dorlene; Muggle fame au; Evan & Barty POVs — Every story has an ending. Barty knows that his own is no different. One day he will slip into nothingness, and there’s comfort in that certainty. But until the hounds of hell drag him away with their teeth, Barty wants whatever version of life is raw, and uncut. | Everything changes for Evan the night that Regulus brings Barty home with him. He meets those green eyes and knows that he will never be the same. Never.

✴ Into the Abyss: 7/?

Jegulus & Rosekiller & Wolfstar - and various combinations of those. Mainly Jegulus/Rosekiller; Wizarding AU - very Canon divergent — It's on a fateful evening that everything changes for Regulus, James, Barty, and Evan, when Evan and Regulus decide to take a glimpse into their future, only to find horrors beyond anything they can imagine. Desperately, the four of them do whatever they can to try and change it, even if they have to change themselves along the way.

arviyya & thejessalope

Also fuck jkr.

[irenerose21]

Here is song #3 from TTPD/The Anthology and why it reminds me of OUAT.

Today’s song is So Long, London.

So, this song reminds me of two people from OUAT.

The first person is reminds me off is

Emma, mainly when Emma found out why Neal abandoned her.

The whole bridge perfectly describes this scene and Emma’s reaction!

“And you say I abandoned the ship, but I was going down with it. My white knuckle dying grip” PERFECTLY describes the bar scene to a tea!

“You say I abandoned the ship”, On one hand, you have Neal, who doesn’t understand that Emma has every right to be made at him. Neal, who never once apologized to Emma in this scene and just wanted to make HER sorry for HIM. Neal, who months later would want a relationship with her again.

Neal never once apologized to anything he did to Emma and also mad it seem like it was her fault in a way and even blamed her for what happened!

“but I was going down with it,” On the other hand, you have Emma, who at just 17 years old literally going to prison because her adult boyfriend let her fall for his crimes. Who would literally find out she was pregnant while she was in prison. Who would end up have to give birth in prison with handcuffs on her feet because of what this man did to her.

“My white knuckle dying grip.” And yet despite what he did to her, she still waited in Tallahassee for 2 years for him.

Another set of lyrics that reminds me of the Bar scene, “And I’m just getting color back into my face. I’m just mad as hell cause I loved this place.” Referring to how it took over 10 years for Emma to start healing from what Neal did to her and right when she was getting happy again, he comes back into her life.

Overall, a lot of the lyrics in So Long, London remind me of the Bar scene, of Emma’s inner thoughts as she fully realizes why Neal abandoned her and why this all happened.

But as I said before, she is not the only character that reminds me of So Long, London.

The other character is

Belle.

Now, I am in the camp that Rumbelle was an extremely toxic relationship and Belle deserved so much better then Rumple. Especially all the BS he pulled in season 5.

Literally, every lyric in So Long, London remains me of Belle and Rumbelle! It is honestly so had pick specific lyrics from this song because they all remind of Rumbelle, that I am only doing the first 4 lyrics of the song for this post!

“I saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist.” Belle seeing the light within Rumple and fighting to get the darkness out of him. “I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift” Belle never giving up on Rumple and being a voice of reason for him. “Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away” Although she never gave up on him, he continued to slid down into the darkness. The more she fell in love with him, the deeper the darkness had a hold on him. “My spine split from carrying us up the hill” Belle literally giving up her emotional being basically to be a guiding light to this man.

And I could go on! Hell, I could even made a separate post detailing all the lyrics to this song and why it reminds me of Belle and why she deserves better!

RIP Belle, you would have loved You’re Losing Me and So Long, London.

Overall, both of these women deserve so much better and yes, while one got better, the other one didn’t and was stuck in an incredibly toxic relationship.

That is all for today, see you tomorrow!