#she would be one of those hardcore swift ones who finds all the clues and easter eggs

[breadbrobin]

rip enola holmes you would’ve loved taylor swift 💔💔

[taylorswiftstylequestions]

Hi Sarah, I just wanted to tell you how awesome, well spoken (with just the right amount of f word), intelligent, sassy and pretty you are. I am die hard Taylor fan but unfortunately I don’t have any friends who like her. I follow your blogs religiously, the only place where I feel a connection with the "TS world". On another note, why are the clues called Easter Eggs. Is it an american thing or a term Tay invented lol. I am personally done with it lol. Also, lover or folklore? Be honest! 🙃🙃

This made me feel so special! Thank you for tagging along on all those stories and for these kind thoughts. 

Easter Eggs genuinely are a thing and Taylor did not coin or come up with these. My experience with them is most often employed in the world of comic books and nerdery that are like small secret messages hidden in things by creators that only hardcore fans will find and appreciate. These were meant to be identifiable and like a fun “inside joke” between creator and fan in that it was something only a real fan would understand or even want to look for. This differs from Taylor’s version of an Easter Egg, particularly in Lover, when EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING COULD HAVE BEEN AN EASTER EGG BECAUSE WE KNEW NOTHING. A gust of wind could have been an Easter Egg. A rhinestone on a hat could have been an Easter Egg. Anything could have been a hint or a clue because we didn’t know what the hint or clue was for. There was no prior knowledge or understanding. 

An example of a good Easter Egg in Taylor Swift-speak could maybe be the “Nils Solberg” on the headstone in the “LWYMMD” video which is a reference to the songwriting pseudonym she employed when ghostwriting “This Is What You Came For” for Calvin Harris. Another one is potentially the ‘91’ and ‘89’ graffiti in the music video for “End Game” which is a reference to Joe and Taylor’s birth years. A casual fan may not have caught that or even cared but we did. And we knew what they were because we already knew about the Nils Solberg drama and looking up someone’s birth date is an easy thing to do. So it was a fun moment of recognition for anyone “in the know” vs a hazed frantic goose chase where people literally counted diamonds on a necklace to figure out if it was a clue. 

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Mount Everest Ain't Got Shit On Us (Fezco X Fem!reader, Part 15.) - The Final Problem, Part 1.

Description: You were always told that your life will be as you wish it to be if you’ll study enough. That it will pay off if you work hard. And some people were given you like a scary example of what will happen when you don’t obey. But sometimes it feels good to disobey.

A/N: Inspired by the song I Mean It by G-Eazy and Remo.

Warnings: Really important character arc and development surrounding Fran.

Word count: 2 K

Read the rest here, babe:  PART 1  PART 2  PART 3  PART 4  PART 5  PART 6  PART 7  PART 8  PART 9  PART 10  PART 11  PART 12  PART 13  PART 14

Masterlist and declaration: H E R E

Tagging: @charmed-asylum, @jeyramarie, @pantherxrogers, @analia-analia-analia​

You know... I should tell you something. I feel like it's appropriate. It's time. I may have told you in the first place, but fuck me. I'm not perfect. Neither is anybody around me. Neither is you.

I'm you. I'm the part of your head which still believes in the better days. The one who keeps telling you to survive the end until the end, until the last ringing, until the last minute of your work time. I'm the part of you who tries to warn you about things that are coming and that will be bad for you.

But you know, baby. These things happen. I can't predict the future. Neither can you, neither can your sis or bro, neither can your mom. So when the rollercoaster goes downhill, I'm basically helpless and my hands are tied. We failed. And I can't save the situation. And trust me, it's the worst feeling on the planet, seeing you suffer.

But sometimes even I can't help you.

A knock on your window could be heard just five minutes after midnight. You weren't asleep at the time, only listening to some songs with a melancholic smile on your lips.

But that knock had wakened you up completely. It wasn't swift nor easy, so it wasn't Fezco or Rue. Instead of them, you found Fran there, not even able to stand on her own feet. You watched her and gulped, listening to the quiet house. She was drunk again. You closed her eyes and exhaled, opening the window slowly and helping her crawl into your room.

You listened to the house a bit in case you've wakened up your parents, but the house was totally quiet as Fran laid down on your bed. You watched her and prayed for her not to do any particular bullshit at that time. You loved her, you did, but you didn't like drunk Fran a bit.

She was like a random machine, she could do anything, she was feeling invincible like a Superman and you couldn't tell her otherwise.

You lived through many of her phases, either drunk or sober, drugged or almost clinically dead. You knew what your older sister was capable of when she was drunk as fuck. Maybe even high. Maybe both. You watched her in silence with a furrow on your face.

"Come 'ere, shithead." - She opened up her arms and invited you to cuddle with her. You did, but you could feel her intense stench. She smelled like vodka and cigarettes combined with some weed. - "Ugh, I love to cuddle yo, yo so soft." - Fran hummed into your hair and smiled. Parents never saw her shitfaced like that.

You were keeping her drunk ass out of trouble, keeping her low and quiet. That's what you needed to do that time as well.

"Fran, you're saying that because you're drunk." - You hugged her back and cuddled to her side.

"Also I heard somethin' funny, yo wouldn't believe." - She raised on her elbow, playing with your hair. If only you could tell what shit train just arrived at the station.

"Okay. Surprise me. What's that?" - You rose your eyebrows and let her hand caress your hair.

"I heard dat... Oh, dis is funny, sis. I heard dat there's a youn' girl smugglin' for Fez. Would ya believe?" - Fran smiled silently. Your eyes shut open and your face froze when you watched in visible confusion. Slowly, you sat up, furrowing at her. How could she know? How could she hear that? - "I heard dat the girl is somethin' like his drug princess or what."

Yeah, you did that just to try it and to help your boyfriend in something similar to an existential crisis, but that was all. You tried some drugs with Fezco, that was true as well, but you weren't a junkie. What the fuck? How could she find out? Did somebody saw you and Rue? Bullshit.

But who told her then?

In one way or another, you hated her gaze. She was looking at you like she was the better one. Like she knew better. Fucking Fran.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about, Fran. Lay down and sleep, you're drunk. I won't tell parents." - You stood up from the bed intending to throw up in your small bathroom. Your head felt dizzy as your pressure got higher. That was a fucking nightmare.

"I don't fuckin' care. You can tell 'em, but just take a look at yo own ass, sis." - She sat up and watched her down. You were gripping one of the cabinets so you could remain on your own feet. - "Fezco ain't any good news for yo, sis. Yo better get yo ass far away from him."

"Listen up. We've been here many times, Fran. It's just you and your godlike fucking complex again. Leave me the fuck out of it." - You pointed your finger at her. Yeah. Fran was talking you down on shit daily. She just did that.

She had the feeling that she has the upper moral hand over - since she fucked herself up, she tried you to be better than her. But you were sick of that. Fran just told you what you can do or can't do. And that was the moment when you just snapped.

Fran was a fucked-up person. And you knew that for a long time now. But you loved her even through that. At least you tried to love her.

Weed addiction? Her fault, not yours. Her alcohol addiction? Her fault, not yours. The feeling in her head that told you she needs to fuck her consciousness off the boundaries until she lies in her own vomit without even having an idea what's happening around her? Her need to take hardcore drugs? To be high on LSD or coke? Again, her fault - not hers.

Yeah, you weren't the saint either - you started to smoke weed with Fez from time to time, sometimes he brought you a little hallucinogenic surprise to take your fucking on a whole another level - but you didn't shove any of it into her fucking face or tried to tell her that she can't do it.

You would never do that. Those were your own little addictions, your own little failures which you learned from. Not hers.

Fran needed to learn where the boundaries laid. And you were just sick of her basically directing your life. You learned a lot of fucked-up through your relationship with Fez. You had a lot on your own mind. She didn't need to add up even more.

"I fucking have done that. I snuggled a package. And why the fuck should you care about any of that in the first place? It's been the worst thing I've ever done and I told Ash and Fez that I'm never ever doing that again." - You whisper-shouted at her, ready to scream at her at any given moment.

You didn't fucking care that you will wake your parents up. You didn't care that they'll see Fran in her current state and that they'll be extremely upset after her four months on rehab. Or that she would probably go there again. For a much longer time because she definitely had some drugs in her blood flow.

"Do you even know how much and how long I was arguing with Fez after that? We could barely talk to each other for three weeks after that." - You took your pillow and threw it on the ground. You needed to throw something around and you didn't want to make too much noise or worse, broke something.

"But guess fucking what. You're going to laugh now, okay?" - You came to her and looked her in the face. Fran sat there, her mouth open and she hadn't got any words for you. She just didn't know what the fuck should she tell you.

"I am not you, sis. I know where is the line between addiction and relaxation. I can stop myself after one try. I am not a fucking junkie like you are, Fran. I am not you." - Great. Now tears were streaming down your cheeks because Fran was crying too. Your words seriously hurt her like nothing else could. - "And because I'm not you, can you just stop pretending you understand everything way better than I can? Can you stop telling me what should I do and what shouldn't I? Because guess what, Fran. It's fucking annoying the living shit from me."

You didn't know what happened at all, your consciousness probably turned off when Fran pushes your body with all the strength she had and you fell down on the cabinet. With whining, you sat back up and felt as the hot blood streamed down from your temple. You started to cough as you sat up and it felt like you're really about to vomit.

Fran stood there with hands over her mouth, tears were streaming down her cheeks as she started to kneel down to nurse you. She was whispering apologies. She has done that. She fucking hurt her baby sister for telling her the truth she already knew.

But you pushed her off of you and then you both looked at the door. Your mom tried to come in, but your door was locked again - so she politely knocked on it. Fran froze down from fear and looked at you, begging you not to say anything. She knew what would happen after that - doctors, your parents being angry, four walls of the rehab center, therapeutics, group sessions, pills.

"Are you okay, honey? I heard a loud bang." - Your mom asked though the door as she yawned.

You should tell her what happened in that room that night. You should. But you loved Fran. And you didn't want her to be hurt so much.

"I'm... I'm fine. I just went to the bathroom and slipped on a t-shirt which I forgot to pick up. Sorry for waking you up, ma!" - You answered loudly and Fran started to cry even more, but still quietly, as you picked your ass up from the floor.

"I told you that you should clean up your room. Love you, goodnight." - She said with a smile in her voice and left your door as you started to put on your clothes. Some sweats and a sweatshirt should do, you told yourself.

"Love you, goodnight!" - You screamed back and put on the old Vans shoes from the time you thought that you're a big skateboard wizard and which you kept under the bed since you started to creep out from your window.

"Where the fuck are you goin'?" - Fran asked as she watched you opening the window leading into your garden. - “I tell ya that it’s freezin’ outside and it’s gonna get worse asshat.”

"I don't know yet. Maybe Rue's, maybe Jules's and maybe Fezco's. I'll see how I feel on the way." - You crawled into the window and let your feet hang from it. - "Stay in my bed until the morning. Then we'll talk. Shut up and they won't find you." - You gave her a piece of advice and left, taking your bike and riding into the downtown.

You already knew where you're going. You drove to that place without even thinking about the road in front of you. Your crying hasn't changed anything, you knew every hill, every bump and every tree alongside the road.

Of course, it was Fezco's place.

Only if you knew that there won’t be any morning in which you two could actually talk it through.