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cameronspecial · 29 days

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The People We Used To Be

Pairing: Musician! Rafe Cameron x Musician! Reader

Warnings: Rafe being an asshole

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 8.5K

Summary: Music brought together Y/N and Rafe, but he pulled them apart. After seven years, a competition to win a recording deal brings them back together and they are forced to confront their past.

A/N: Inspired by @ghostofwriting's Kildare Spilt series which is absolutely amazing and you have to check it out if you haven't already. The songs in the fic are "Traitor" by Olivia Rodrigo (Altered to fit the fic) and "Right My Wrongs" by Bryson Tiller. I didn't write them.

Masterlist

Music has a way of making the world make sense for Y/N and Rafe. The Pogue and the Kook met at a Mommy and Me music class their mothers took them to as toddlers. Their mothers and each other helped foster a love for the art and it became even more of a necessity when they lost their mothers. Rafe was the first one to lose his mother. Margaret Cameron had been battling cancer for two years before her passing and it completely destroyed her eight-year-old son. Every Kook he knew tried to help him with his grief, except the one person who could actually get through to him didn’t live on Figure Eight. Instead of crying in his room in Tannyhill, he found himself riding his bike to a small bungalow on the Cut. It was in that small house where a little girl sat on the front porch with a guitar that was too big for her, trying to play “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauper. Her mom’s favourite song. The sound of the chain of his bike caused her to freeze and look up from the strings. “You are getting better,” he praised, getting off his bike to walk it up the small driveway. She gave him a smile that showed him she wasn’t afraid to be happy during his time of mourning. She didn’t walk on eggshells around him and he loved it. It made him feel normal, like before his mom got sick. She beckoned him to the porch swing with her hand, “Come sing with me.” He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Nuh-uh, that’s a girl song,” he argued.

The front door opened and out came Melody Y/L/N. Her smile matched her daughter. “Now, Rafe. Have I not taught you anything about music? There is no such thing as a boy song or a girl song. Or a Pogue song or a Kook song. As long as it speaks to you, it is meant for you. Now, why don’t we all sing together?” Those words touched him and it would continue to do so well into adulthood. And it was that afternoon when Rafe started to heal from the pain of a dead mother. Playing music with the Y/L/N women and being happy made him feel closer to his mom than any condolences from other people.

———

Y/N lost her mother at twelve years old. The real kicker was that the universe decided that the day the girl would turn into a young lady was the day of her mother’s funeral. Her mother was a lively person and requested in her will that people wear their favourite colour to her funeral. So Y/N wore light blue to the burial. When she went to the bathroom after returning home, she was greeted with a massive red stain in her underwear. It felt as though the world had ended. Melody may have talked to her daughter about the logistics of dealing with a period, but Y/N couldn’t remember a word of what her mother had said and she began to panic. She locked herself in the bathroom after her dad gave her a new pair of underwear and some of her mom’s leftover pads. Other than that, he had no idea what else to do to get his daughter out. His wife was gone and his daughter was dealing with a problem he had never experienced before. He felt hopeless until he thought of the one person who could help.

Ward dropped off his son in front of the one-story yellow house, telling his son he could sleep over if Y/N needed someone. Rafe walked into the house as if he lived there and went straight to the bathroom door. “Hey, Rock Star. I heard you were feeling bad. I brought you some KitKats, dulce de leche ice cream and some Tylenol,” he announces, looking through the bag. “My mo- My mom used to say eating sweets made her feel better.” She didn’t respond; instead, she remained seated on the floor against the bathtub. Her head was on her knees to catch the tears coming from her eyes, wishing her mom could be here to help her through it. Rafe sighed, worried his friend would never leave that room again. Since food didn’t work, he only knew one other thing that might be able to get her out. If it didn’t work, then he didn’t know what would. He ran to the living room and flipped through the CD holder, looking for a specific one. He finally found it and took it out. He set it in the CD player and dragged it into the hallway. He plugged it in, skipping to the perfect song. The notes began to play and he shook his hips in synch with it. “I come home, in the morning light,” he started to sing with Cyndi. She could hear his exaggerated shrieks from inside her confides. He was definitely doing it to goad her out. “I think I’m a great singer. What do you think, Rock Star?” he screamed from the other side of the door. She sat there for a little longer, listening to his horrible singing.

Eventually, she had to save her poor ears from the torture. His singing dimmed in volume at the click of the lock. He saw her feet tapping and he knew it was only a matter of time before she joined in with him. Once she started singing with him, he switched to his real singing voice. The slant of her lips was still in a frown, but it was still an improvement from not wanting to see anyone. And once again, music helped the children grieve the loss of an important woman in their lives.

———

Her foot taps against the floor as she bites her nails. The earplugs she is wearing help dampen the sound from the stage. She can’t believe he is here. It really shouldn’t be a surprise. This competition would launch the winner’s career. Y/N hasn’t seen him in seven years and hasn’t played with him for just as long. Kiara comes from behind her and rests a palm on her shoulder. Kie has been touring with Y/N’s band for three years now. As soon as she graduated high school, she hit the road and became the Melodies’ personal assistant. They both turn to look at the lead singer of Just Wanna Have Fun as he sings while strumming his electric guitar. He turns so she can see the back of his guitar and she spots the beam note with their initial in each of the ovals of the notes. R and Y/I/N. She is surprised he hasn’t painted over it already. Each band gets to play three songs and when she hears the next song he decides to play, she can’t stand on the sideline and watch them perform anymore. She turns around and heads into the lounge area for the musicians. How dare he play that song?

He could feel her gaze on her throughout his first set. He should’ve figured she would be here. If he thought she was, he wouldn’t have played the next set. He finishes his part of the duet and he looks to the side of the stage to see her while Frank sings the verse that used to belong to Y/N. Disappointment flashes across his eyes at the empty spot where she was. This is the first time he gets to see her in seven years and of course, he has to screw it up. He gets so caught up in the past that he almost misses his verse.

———

The cool air tickled their skin as her head rested on his stomach. The new electric guitar his dad bought him for his fourteenth birthday lay beside them. “Do you ever worry about us not being friends anymore?” she thought out loud, staring up at a cloud that looked a little like a bunny. He frowns at her and lifts his head up to look at her, “No, why in the world would I think about that?”

“We are total opposites, Rafe. You are a Kook. I’m a Pogue. You are destined for a life of greatness while I’m meant to be stuck on my side of the island.”

He laughs, “That’s absolutely ridiculous because we are both meant to be in a band together and become so famous that the members of Pink Floyd will be jealous.”

He could see the seriousness of her question and sat up, taking her with him. She now sat across from him and he took her hand into his. “But seriously though, all that stuff doesn’t matter. Not when we have music. It’s like your mom used to say. Music isn’t meant for one type of person. As long as it speaks to you, it is meant for you. And that logic is the same for us. We speak to each other, so we are meant for each other,” he promised. He scooted to his backpack and got out a Sharpie. He sat back down beside her, flipping his guitar onto his lap. “What are you doing?” she questioned. She slid in closer to him. He uncapped the marker and began to draw a beam note. He looked up at her with a smile, “Proving to you that we will never stop being friends.” He put his initial in the first note and handed the marker over to her. She got the message, writing her initial in the other note. He took the marker back to cap it. “There. Now, as long as this is here, we will be friends forever.” She giggled at his remark, thinking it would eventually fade; however, what she didn’t know was that he forced his dad to get something to seal the writing that very night.

———

Y/N will never get over the feeling of being on stage. Whether she is playing for a crowd of one or a hundred, all she needs is to share what she loves with people willing to listen. She smiles at the camera Kiara flashes in her face and takes the towel Kie hands to her. The fabric removes the sweat from her forehead, staining with makeup in the process. She makes her way to the lounge to put her stuff away so she can wait out the other bands until they announce who is going to make it to the next round. Her usual routine after a gig is to take a breather outside by herself. She needs the outside air to cool her down and let her think, so her bandmates give her the space she needs as she heads out the backdoor. She breathes in the cool air, slamming against the rough brick wall. So far, she has been able to contain her emotions about seeing him again. Yet, finally being able to focus on her feelings, makes her realize that she is still hurt by what he did all those years ago. She trusted him with all of her heart and he broke that trust. How could someone she loved so much betray her so badly?

“It’s been seven years and you still haven’t changed, Rock Star.” The voice snaps her out of her thoughts. Her head swivels in his direction, rolling her eyes at him. “Neither have you because I’m guessing you are here to smoke. You know those things will kill you, right?” she retorts, looking in the opposite direction. He chuckles, “Yeah, this girl I used to know a while back told me that all the time.” She doesn’t join in his playfulness. “You know what, I’m just going to go back inside,” she decides, pushing off of the wall to head to the door. He reaches for her wrist to stop her. She stops at the contact and he flicks the cigarette bud on the floor. He stomps it out. His gaze finds her again and at the disapproving look on her face, he picks it up and throws it in the garbage. He points toward the door, “I’ll go. I recognize how much you need these moments alone. I’ll see you back inside.” He steps toward the doorway, pausing to glance at her over his shoulder. “It was nice to see you in person again.” She scoffs, “I wish I could say the same.” This digs another shallow hole in his heart and he lets the door slam shut behind him. Once he is gone, she slides down the wall, resting her head on her knees with her eyes closed. Is a record deal with one of the best recording labels really worth the regauging of old wounds?

Rafe heads to the bathroom, the inside of his cheek caught between his teeth. The decision to use the individual bathroom is easy; he doesn’t want anyone to walk in on his mental breakdown. His hand twists the cold facet and splashes the water onto his face. The shock of the temperature aids him in rearranging his thoughts. At the sight of her broken heart, it killed him that he wasn’t able to drag her into his hold and whisper how sorry he was for letting them get to this point. After all their time apart, every single detail that he remembers about her is the same. Her lavender perfume remains his favourite smell in the world. The dark fuschia lipstick is the one he picked out for her when she started wearing makeup. And she relies on the tiny taps of her feet in rhythm with the song playing in her head.

———

Rafe watches her from his spot in front of the stage. The area designated for the bands to stand in during the elimination announcement isn’t as crowded as the general admission behind him. Two bands are going to be eliminated. It isn’t a lot, yet it doesn’t guarantee Just Wanna Have Fun is going to continue in the competition. He hopes the Melodies advance, certainly because the longer they both stay, the more chances he has at making things right between them. All he wants is to get back what they had and maybe what they didn’t get the opportunity. That wish is quickly submerged by a wave from a passing jet ski.

The jet ski is probably two inches shorter than Rafe. His light brown curly hair goes passed the bottom of his ear and looks like a flat mane. The green eyes stare at Y/N with adoration that only Rafe should be allowed to direct toward her. What really destroys Rafe is when that five o’clock shadow brushes against Y/N’s skin to give her a kiss on the cheek. Garrett notices Rafe’s gaze and shoves the glarer with his shoulder. “Stop staring. You look creepy,” Garrett orders, turning back to the stage. As Rafe is about to obey the suggestion, he catches the way Y/N leans against the chest of the mystery man, causing a bubble of nausea to form in his stomach. The screech of a microphone calls the attention of everyone in the crowd. A short woman with blue hair and black lips angles the bulb toward her, “Everyone played beautifully tonight, but unfortunately, you all can’t join us next week. Just as a reminder every week, two bands will be eliminated. Now, for the moment you have all been waiting for.” She takes a pause to unfold the paper with the names of the unlucky musicians and her cheerful demeanour shifts to one of sorrow. “I’m sorry to announce that Dex the Sex and Heartaches will not be playing on this stage again next week.” The bands closest to the exiled ones express their condolences, while the ones further away can be seen celebrating the small victory. Rafe turns to hug his bandmates and can’t help but risk a glance at her. Her arms are around her supposed boyfriend’s neck and their chest are pressed against each other.

The green-eyed monster tickles his heart. His legs move in advance of his brain processing his emotions. The tips of his navy blue converses touch her black leather boots. He notices the way the man’s arm around her waist slightly tightens so that the veins in his arms are prominent and the sharp jaw clenches. Rafe eventually has the confidence to look in her eyes and her distaste for him marinates in them. His fingers go to scratch the back of his ear, “Congrats on making it to the next round. You… you played great. Was the last song new?” She leans forward in the man’s hold and some of her hatred cools down. “Thanks, it is. Something I came up with last week. We’ve been working late nights to perfect it for tonight. You sounded great tonight too,” she says barely above a whisper. The man behind her looks between the ex-bandmates and extends his hand out, “I’m Knox, Y/N’s boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you, Rafe.”

Rafe grips Knox’s hand a little too tight with a straight smile. “It’s nice to meet you too,” he placates, wondering how much trouble he would get into for punching the idiot. It would be unwarranted for sure, yet it doesn’t stop his urge to want to do it. Feeling the start of a cock fight brewing, Y/N steps in. “We didn’t eat dinner before the show, so we are going to go… do that.” She breaks away from her boyfriend’s hold and takes his hand, following her friends toward the exit. Her cold demeanour might have made someone else lose spirit. Someone who didn’t know Y/N. Rafe knows otherwise though. He was able to crack the glaze of her harshness. He isn’t letting that victory go.

———

His feet ache after a late-night practice. They had gotten the last timeslot for practice at the venue today, not that Rafe minds. He works better at night because it is when he needs a distraction the most. She was there earlier, so he didn’t get to see her. The smell of her perfume followed him wherever he went while he was there. They haven’t had any encounters since that night. It doesn’t surprise him; she is obviously avoiding him. It hurts him more than hell and he knows he deserves it because he did something a hundred times worse to her. The echo of his footsteps is the sole sound in his vast apartment. This has been his house for five years, except it doesn’t feel like home. Not when it doesn’t have that touch of her like his room at Tannyhill does.

———

“God, could your room look any more like a stereotypical teenage boy’s jerk off-centre?” she criticized, looking around the room with disgust in her eyes at the cluster of cups on his bedside table. Some of them had ring stains around the glass. He looked at her over his shoulder, “What are you talking about? All the guys I know have a room like this.” She points at the walls littered merely with car posters or bikini models. “Yeah, and that’s the problem. How can you call this place home if there is nothing that shows you are the one living here?” she argued. He gestured to the poster, “What do you think that is?”

“That shows me that any guy in my class lives here.”

“Like a Pogue could afford half of the stuff in this room.”

“Really, Rafe?”

“Right, sorry. Can you just get to the point? What do you think I should add then? What will make this place my home?”

“You need more personality in here. Pictures of people you love. Little trinkets. Plants. Music stuff. Love letters from a sweetheart.”

He chuckled, “Like you display your love letters. And why can’t my personality be cars and bikini posters.” “Because that’s every other straight cis-gendered boy's personality. You know, if you added more things, it would make a girl feel more comfortable in your room,” she attempted a different tactic. His brow arched, “Hmm, never thought about it that way. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in my room though. Why bring it up now?” “I’m tired of looking at this nasty-ass messy room. That’s why,” she admitted. He nodded, taking into consideration her opinion. He grabbed a piece of tape from his desk drawer and took out his wallet. She observes as he slides out a picture from the window slot. He tacked on the photo right above his desk. She couldn’t see what it was in, so she stepped forward. Her eyes welled up with tears at the sight. It was a picture of them. The memory of when the photo was taken comes to the forefront of her mind. They were twelve years old and he had just learnt a new chord on the guitar, so of course, he had to teach her it as well. His hands were placed over hers on the neck of the guitar, while he guided her fingers. “What’s this?” she stupidly questioned.

He grinned at her, “You told me to put up a picture of someone I loved and I did.” “And you just had that picture in your wallet this whole time?” she clarified. He shrugged, “Yep since I got it.” “That is very unexpected, Rafe,” she thought out loud. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, “What do you expect, Rock Star? You’re my best friend. Of course, I love you.” The words stung her. It shouldn’t surprise her that was who he saw her as. She was a Pogue; she could never be more to him.

———

He should’ve brought that picture to New York with him. He did bring one thing over that reminded him of home. The music room in his apartment has everything he needs to write a song. It is the one place in his apartment that he doesn’t mind spending time in. There are so many ways for him to clear his mind here and it is where his bandmates like to hang out too. No matter how many times Frank (keyboardist), Garrett (bassist), Topper (drummer), and Barry (band manager) enter this room and know every inch of the room, they will never find his most precious possession. He kneels beside the drawer tower filled with various accessories for the instruments and pulls the bottom one open. He pushes down on the false bottom to reveal a stack of lined papers. They are rumpled from how many times he has read them over; he just couldn’t bring himself to send them or get rid of them. At first, he wrote them to apologize to her, but then he started to use it as a cathartic method. He allowed himself to express everything he had ever wanted to say to her in the letters and every time he needed a reminder of who they used to each other, he read them. His hope was that one day they would be the personalization their house needed to feel like home. It’s been a while since he wrote a new one; however, with her reappearance in his life, it feels time to write another.

Dear Rock Star,

Even after all this time, you still manage to find a way to have a hold on my heart. Maybe, it’s because I never sent the first letter, so we never got the closure we needed. But seeing you again made my heart feel like it was beating to the tune of its old song. Everything I felt for you came back like a tidal wave and all I wanted to do was hug the ever-loving shit out of you. And then he went to you. That wave I thought I could overcome became my undoing. It made me regret never reaching out to say I was sorry. I realized that your rejection of my apology would be a lot less painful than your moving on from me. It was bound to happen. How could it not when you are the most amazing person to have ever existed? I just dreamt that I could’ve found my way back into your life before it happened. But I didn’t and now, I have to stew in my consequences.

I sometimes wonder if you miss me as much as I miss you. I get that it is different for you. You were the one who got hurt instead of the one doing the hurting. I think you do. You may not admit it, but you responded to me. Maybe you wanted to seem professional and I can see that being your reason. Yet, your eyes told me something else. I’m not talking about when we talked. I’m talking about when I was on stage. You saw the beam note and I could see the yarning behind the hatred. You want to go back to that time just as much as I want to. I’m going to get us back to that place, I promise. We might not be able to be exactly the people we used to be; nevertheless, we can try. Because you still speak to me, Rock Star, and that means we are meant to be.

Loving you always,

Rafe

He sighs at the final stroke of the pen and caps it. He reads it over and over until it is all he can think about. The words have never felt more true to him and he makes a vow to himself to make it come true. If he can’t have back what they once had, then he will make damn sure he’ll earn the next best thing. He hears the jiggle of the front door handle and rapidly shoves everything back into the drawer. “Dude, why is it always so damn dark in here? Don’t you know how to turn on lights?” Topper teases from downstairs. “Where are you? Come out of the studio for once, will ya? We brought you food from that Turkish place.”

———

“I think maybe we should try you coming in later with the backup vocals, Debs. Why don’t we try again?” Y/N advises. At the nod from the other girls, Y/N faces the stage outward and grips the microphone with both hands. Viola counts them down, beginning the rhythm for everyone to join in. Y/N waits for her cue to sing; she has been the lead singer for the Melodies for seven years and she has yet to figure out what to do with her hands. When they started the band, they figured having two guitarists didn’t mesh well with their sound. So, she offered to drop the instrument for the band because Laila hates singing. She didn’t mind not being able to play on stage, except there were sometimes when she missed it. She’d even dare to say she missed playing with Just Wanna Hav Fun because she wanted the ability to shred some strings in a room bigger than her shoebox of an apartment. The note that signifies she comes in plays and she opens her mouth to sing. Her mind turns off, focusing entirely on hitting every note perfectly. Every time she gets to be on stage, she finds herself falling in love with music again. Especially since it helps her feel closer to her mother.

The girls get lost in the music and forget the time. The clearing of a throat causes Y/N to whip in the direction of it. Topper gives her a small smile and a wave, “I hate to stop the creative flow, but it’s eleven.” Y/N’s head bobs and helps the others get all of their stuff together. She can feel the eyes of the people she used to call friends on her. She tries not to succumb to the pressure of their gaze. As they leave the stage, both groups awkwardly look at each other. She hasn’t kept secrets from her girls, so they know everything that went down between her and the boys.

Laila, Viola, and Debra can see the emotionless expression on her face at the encounter with her past and decide not to bring it up. “Are you working a shift today?” Laila inquires whilst placing her guitar in its case. Y/N slings her bag across her chest, “Yeah, I’m doing a closing shift. If you guys want to come over to rehearse some more, come over after ten. I need a break between now and work.” “Got it, I’ll bring the pizza,” Laila informs before leaving with Debra and Viola. Kiara returns from the bathroom and approaches Y/N, looking nervously between the stage and her friend. “I don’t want to talk about it, Kie,” she laments. Kiara notices the way the singer avoids eye contact. The PA shakes her head, “You’ve been burying this within you for almost a decade. That isn’t healthy.” “I have no idea what you are talking about. It is perfectly fine to not talk about it. And for your information, I interacted with him on the first competition night. I would say that counts as acknowledging it,” she contends. Kiara’s head tilts to give Y/N a pointed look.

“I overheard that conversation. You were just being nice because the audience could see you.”

“You can’t deny that I was being nice. So I say it counts.”

“You know that isn’t what I mean, Y/N/N. You aren’t only hurting him by leaving things unsolved, but yourself. The more you avoid getting closure, the more you come up with your own explanation for his actions. Those are always going to be worse than the truth. Think about it, not for him. For you.”

Kie doesn’t wait for an answer and it leaves Y/N to think about the impact of her friend's words. She chances a glance to where the music is coming from before heading home. The world is drowned out by the music playing in her headphones, filling in the space where her thoughts should populate. Everyone believes she has to speak to him; they lecture her on the importance of learning the full story. It is rich of them to say all those things when they aren’t the ones who Rafe pained. He didn’t even have the decency to say he was sorry after she confronted him. All he had to present to her were countless excuses. So they don’t get to have an input on how she deals with her shit because she is dealing with it. Through her writing. Out of Rafe and Y/N, she has always been the one more attuned to writing. Rafe can write good songs, he just isn’t as in love with the process as she is. Once her headphones come off at home, she rushes to her bedside drawer, pulling out a beaten-up notebook. She flips through countless songs about him. Every single one was written when she couldn’t contain how she felt. She finally gets to the picture of them she uses as a bookmark. It is the same one he taped onto his wall when they were fifteen. She couldn’t bring herself to take anything else of him during her move. As soon as the pen hits the paper, everything she has been bundling up inside falls onto the page.

———

He had asked her out. Rafe asked her out and she said yes. It had been a game of cat and mouse, them going back and forth on whether or not they should risk their friendship for something more. Spoiler alter, it wasn��t going to be. She didn’t know that though. At the moment, she was focused on getting to band practice. The cold evening breeze caused her to wrap her zip-up hoodie around her body by holding it against her waist. She drops her phone right as she gets to the opening of Topper’s garage. Something she overhears while picking up her phone makes her delay her entry to the room. “I heard you are going on a date with Y/N.” It was a high-pitched voice that could only belong to Samantha. Y/N wasn’t the biggest fan of Samantha. The Kook had a permanent judgmental face in her presence and she could hear the repugnance lacing the question.

Y/N expected her best friend to hear the same tone and defend her. It never happened. “Listen, I didn’t want to do it. I got tired of her doing that pathetic mopey-eyed shit. She was begging for me to ask her out, so I did to stop her pestering. Trust me, I could never willingly date a Pogue.” Suddenly, her heart popped under the weight of the tire and he continued to smear her most vital organ across the road with every laugh he let out. What added to her decimation was that her other bandmates joined in her mocking. During their friendship, they had never made her feel different because of what side of the island she was born on. She thought they didn’t care about the number in her bank account; apparently, they did. She wondered how many lies they told her. Was everything they ever paid for for her because they pitied her? Were they truly her friend? She stepped back to leave, not having the courage to face the most important people in her life until Rafe said something that turned her agony to rage. “What about that stupid saying her mom always said that she lives by. As long as it speaks to you, it is meant for you. It is so ridiculous. One. Not everything talks. Two. Does she believe that a life outside of the cut is meant for her? Y/N is so delusional.” Samantha let out a cackle. This was the ultimate betrayal.

She stormed into the room, letting the boys’ height tower over her. The faint smell of weed permeated the air. With the number of times they smoked in here, she was surprised the fabric of the light brown couch didn’t permanently smell like the drug. Topper’s garage wasn’t what most people would imagine for a place to park a car. It made sense though because his family didn’t keep their cars in this garage. They had another small building to house their vehicles in true Kook fashion. This room was a modern finished room, perfectly equipped for whatever Topper’s new hobby was and it happened that his hobby for the past year was being in a band. Rafe could see the fury in her eyes and knew she heard everything they said. He felt horrible. In an ignorant teenage boy fashion, he said anything he could to get laughter out of his friends, creating the biggest mistake of his life. Time needed to rewind, so he could say what he should’ve. The way she looked at him buried him in regret. His desire to take her into his arms for her comfort was trumped by the knowledge that she would chew his head off. “How can you say those things about my mother? The fact that you would ridicule her after she treated you like her own son is sickening. You didn’t deserve her love and she would be disappointed in who you turned out to be. So would your own mom because the Margaret Cameron I know would be ashamed at how you just talked about her dead friend and your presumed best friend,” she fired. He could make glass out of sand with the way she scorched him. His mind zipped around with ways to apologize and make things better, yet his dumb hormonal self advised him to keep digging. She was outnumbered after all.

“Playing the mom card, how depressing. No, I think my mom would be proud of me. She never liked you anyway. How could she? All you are is a sad little poor Pogue.”

Lies. Margaret adored Y/N, loving getting to sing with the little girl. The laughs from the Kooks fueled his outer confidence, while his heart was being grated into millions of pieces. She froze; her face contorting into a pout. He spotted the wobble of her lip and the hitching of her breath. His feet shuffled forward a micro-inch, wanting to wipe away her despair. She took a deep breath. Silence seeped into the air. The tension thickened like trying to swim in a pool of peanut butter. She held her head high as she spun to leave, refusing to let them see her misery.

———

Another competition night passes with the survival of Just Wanna Have Fun and the Melodies. The venue hall is practically empty, except for a few stray people. While the rest of the girls go home, Y/N stays behind to get some downtime alone in the rehearsal room. Being in the Battle of The Bands with Rafe is proving to be harder than she thought. They haven’t had another conversation, but their proximity puts her on edge. Her footsteps echo in the hallway as she leaves the bathroom. Headphones cover her ears, distracting her from the presence behind her. A tap on her shoulder causes her to twirl around. A skinny man with a sad excuse for a beard leers at her. He is wearing The Melodies’ merch and gives her a gut-twisting smile. Suddenly, she feels uneasy because of the lack of people in the building. Time droops as his thin fingers encase her wrist. She tries to yank her arm out; his baby-like grip impedes her attempt. “You have such a beautiful voice,” he mumbles. The usual compliment doesn’t have the same effect coming from a man who looks at her in such an objectified manner.

“You need to let go,” she orders, having no obligation to acknowledge the content of his words. His hand further coils around her skin, “I said something nice about you. The least you can do is say thank you.” Fear sets in when his other hand reaches for his belt and he begins to drag her toward the bathroom. An arm hooks around the delusional man’s neck, causing him to stop and jerk her backwards. She quickly recognizes the thick bicep. “Let go of her,” Rafe growls in the assaulter’s ear. Relief flushes her at the release of weight from her wrist. “Rock Star, go get security and go back to the practice room.” Her mind goes on autopilot and follows his instructions, overlooking the manner in which he knows why she is here late.

Once security is sent to aid Rafe, she returns to the instrument-filled room. Her attention is on the blue acoustic guitar resting in its case close to the metal stool. She picks up the guitar and takes a seat. Her fingers press against the string on the neck and her other hand strumms to create the chord. The lyrics she wrote so long ago flow out of her.

“You betrayed me And I know that you'll never feel sorry For the way I hurt, yeah You said I was priceless but you really meant worthless. It took you a second To pretend I was nothing Guess I should’ve known That you were always a liar.”

Rafe's back rests against the stone, a tear slipping out of the corner of his eye and down his face. He was going to go in to check in on her but hesitates to fall through. She needs to say something to the universe and for once, Rafe isn’t going to take that away from her. He saw the way the bounce of her foot disappeared with the song. Instead, he plans to give her exactly what she needs. The guys are going to hate him for this.

———

The crowd is electric as Rafe takes a second to breathe. He looks around the venue, searching to see if she is in the section for the musicians to watch the show. His eyes connect with Y/N’s. He can carry on with his plan. He rests a hand on the microphone and adjusts the earpiece in his ear. The mic stand tilts while he brings the mic closer to his mouth, “This next one is new. It’s not on any of our albums, but it is something that is long overdue.” He flicks his head toward Topper to start playing the song they worked all week to perfect in time. Rafe’s head bobs to the beat of the drum, waiting for his queue to jump in. He starts singing at the same time he strums the first chord.

“I've gotta right my wrongs With you is where I belong You've been down from the go Recognition is what you want And it's something that I should know Something that I should know All the things that you went through I never meant to put you through it twice, no Tell me how can I right my wrongs That's something that I should know All the things that we been through I never meant to put you through it twice, oh no”

His eyes flicker to her and his heart drops at the tears running down her round cheeks. Every part inside of him wants to stop playing when he sees her go backstage. He gets through the set and the rest of the guys say goodbye to their fans. He is too distracted to give it his full attention. Once backstage, he removes his guitar and weaves through the crew and other musicians in a jog to get to the musicians’ lounge. Disappointment crosses him when he can’t find her. He spots Kie and runs over to his sister’s friend. “Where did she go?” he interrogates, eyes frantically scanning the room for her. Kiara’s eyes roll, “You seriously expect me to tell you after the stunt you just pulled.” His hands clasp together in a shake. “Please, Kie. I needed to do it. She had to know how sorry I was and music has always been our way to connect. It felt right,” he explains, trying to resist the urge to drop to his knees in front of everyone.

“It’s seven years too late, Rafe.”

“It’s only too late unless one of us is dead. I need to make sure she is okay. That she knows I mean what I wrote.”

“I don’t think you are begging enough.”

His head goes crooked and he follows her gaze to the floor. He swallows his pride and gets onto his knees, “Please, Kiara Carrera. Tell me where Y/N is.” Kie smiles in satisfaction. “I won’t tell you where she lives, but I will tell you where she works and you can keep going there until you happen to be there when she works,” Kiara grants, typing the location into his phone.

———

The clouds outside make the afternoon dark, adding to Rafe’s loss of hope of not seeing Y/N. The news said it was supposed to rain tonight, but it said that about every day this week and it was wrong. There is a small skip in his step as he reaches for the handle of the coffee shop. An elderly lady stands in the doorway he opened, so he steps back and allows her to pass him. She gives him a small smile as she does. Freshly ground coffee beans and the sound of steam coming from the machine strike his senses. Lydia at the counter recognizes him and begins making his usual before he gets to the register. TJ already has his order punched into the system when he gets there. All Rafe has to do is pay. Once that is done, he sits at a booth sitting along the right wall to wait for his drink. This allows him to see the counter and the front door at the same time. He has been to the cafe every day this week. He only leaves when they close or when he has to practice at the venue. A week isn’t long, yet it still allows him to get to know the people working there. They couldn’t disclose when Y/N is working for privacy issues and he understood why. He would be more concerned if they did tell him no matter who he claimed to be. His name is called and goes up to get it. He reseats himself, opening his laptop to keep himself occupied.

Lavender. It overpowers him in a good way. He glances toward the front door and she is there, walking further into the store with the most dazzling smile directed toward Lydia. “Look who finally showed up to work,” the barista calls out. Y/N laughs, “I haven’t been scheduled to work. You know that, Silly.” “I know. Work just goes a little slower without my work wife here to keep me company,” Lydia complains with a grin. Y/N hasn’t noticed him and a part of him wishes she never will so she never loses the joy he hasn’t gotten to see since he was sixteen. He considers ducking out before she can see him, except Lydia has other plans. “Oh, by the way, this guy has been coming in every day to see you. He’s sitting over there.” Y/N’s eyes follow Lydia’s finger to where Rafe sits.

She sighs, “My shift doesn’t start for another ten minutes. Is it okay if I…” TJ answers for the barista. “Yeah, take your time.” Y/N’s head bobs and she pulls the hood off from her head. The KCHS written across her chest causes his heart to ache. He gave her some of the money so that she could buy the hoodie. She must not have remembered that fact if she kept it. Her path turns to his table and she settles herself in the seat across from him. “The nerve you have to sing that apology like it can solve all of our problems and then stalk me at my place of work,” she grits through her teeth. He bites the corner of his lip, “Music was always how we connected. And I wanted to make sure you were okay. You ran off during my set.”

“You don’t get to pretend like we still have music after what you said about our mothers. You gave that right up a long time ago. You also aren’t allowed to pretend you care for me.”

He reaches out for her hand and she yanks it away. “The things that I said… They were my greatest mistake. I have never forgiven myself for not apologizing on the spot and I don’t expect you to do so either. I do hope that you know that I regret every single word I uttered that day, Rock Star,” he pleads. He tries to meet her eye, but she averts her gaze. “The world has been a much darker place since you left. I am so sorry that I caused you the pain that I did. I would do anything in this universe to tell my younger self to tell you the truth that day.” She can’t help herself, “And what was the truth, Rafe?” “That even though we hadn’t been on our date yet, I was madly in love with you. I love you with every fibre in my being and it scared me because I knew how much it would hurt if I lost you. Not only that, I was just a teen and stupid enough to think getting a laugh out of my friends was better than facing something new. I had never been so wrong in my entire life.” Her eyes gloss over and checks the time on her phone. She stands up without another word, breaking Rafe’s heart as she walks to the back room.

The air comes out of his nose in high pressure. He understands her message and leaves Y/N’s place of work. It is hard to process the words he said. Her younger self would’ve loved to hear his declaration of love. She would’ve been so excited. A small part of her heart flutters at the reveal, no matter how angry she is at him. The worst is she genuinely believes he is remorseful of his actions.

Their issues couldn’t be fixed with one small apology; however, she would never forgive herself if she never saw where this could go. “I’m sorry. I’m going to take my break right now,” she informs her co-workers, not waiting for answers. She takes off her apron and throws it onto the ground. She runs out the door in hopes she can still catch him. The crowd makes her question her belief until she spots the blue flannel he is wearing. She threads herself through the people and is met with resistance. “RAFE,” she yells out. He freezes, spinning around to see her. He pushes his way to her and they stand before each other as wet spatters begin to hit their heads. He chances resting his hands on her elbow, delighting when she doesn’t flinch away from him. “I think I forgive you,” she says. The patter from the rain drowns out her words, so he places his forehead against hers to hear her better. His smirk reveals he does have an inkling of what she confessed, “What did you say?” She knows the game he is playing and rolls her eyes. “Forget it, I’m just going to go back to work,” she snarks, turning away to head back to the cafe. Rafe catches her wrist and tugs her against his chest.

Their lips finally connect in the way they have been waiting for for twenty-three years. Her soft petals press hard against him like a rock. He reciprocates the pressure, running his tongue along her lips to ask for entrance. The rainwater mixes in with their saliva as she allows him in. He remembers the jet ski that once drowned him and pulled away. “What about Knox?” he questions. She stares at him with big eyes, “We were never really dating. He is Viola’s brother. He knows our history and thought it would be fun to play around with you to keep you away.”

“I see. That didn’t work out as you guys had planned, did it? I don’t think anything can keep me away from you once I realize how stupid I was.”

“No it did not… You need to know that just because I forgave you doesn’t mean everything is back to normal. We can’t go back to pretending that we are still the people we used to be. I’m not the girl I was seven years ago and you’ll have to regain my trust.”

“And I am prepared to do whatever it takes to gain back what I broke. As long as I can be by your side.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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bettyshoweduptotheparty · 3 months

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TS 11 is the final show before the death and rebirth of Taylor Swift. And here’s how we know.

I saw this yesterday (thanks @spade-riddles and @corneliastvendor ) reacting to the latest TN post of Taylor's funeral image from the Anti Hero mv with the 11 cats. And I think there's more to add to this.

11 cats, 11 albums and 11 messages from 🎃anon. What comes after 11? 12. And at 12 o'clock we meet her at midnight. We've known it for over a year now. And it's interesting that we now know she has chosen the colour white to represent her 11th album. White represents a clean slate, rebirth, but also surrender. And talking of album colours, here's one more thing that I think it worth revisiting that supports this theory (it may already have been pointed out, sorry if I'm repeating things), the orange door that has haunted us for almost a full year now:

(sorry for the blurry tiktok image, I still haven't seen the tour or movie so I rely on other people's pictures)

As the door descends during the karma set, the space above it turns purple, then blue. The door itself is orange and the path that it's coming down on is white. So, orange (karma) follows purple (speak now tv) and blue (1989tv) and the path that paves the way for it to 'drop' is white (TTPD). In the comments for this tiktok, somebody also pointed out that the dancers for this set are arranged in two clusters, one with Taylor in the centre line and one with a dancer in an orange jacket with bleach blonde hair, looking much like the 2016 bleachella Taylor that we assumed might be the look of a new era (now assumed to be karma). So, with all the recent emphasis on the number 2 ✌🏼✌🏼, could this be the hint that karma is coming in the wake of TS11, maybe as a double drop? Personally, I think that's more plausible than a secret drop before April 19th, which is also a theory that I've seen, but I think it's unlikely (but what do I know...).

What I'm more convinced of it that we can stop anticipating rep and debut (tv) because those two will be replaced with karma. Remember, rep tv and all the hints to snakes and black clothing, were red herrings. Rep tv is not coming, karma is. Exile ended at 2, there was never a 1 or 0. We are down to 2 re-records but they won't come as expected, "reputation is an illusion" or whatever the message was. In any case, when that orange door hits the ground it's go time and I think we are closer than we think. I've seen so many people last year say 'When she plays Dear Reader and You're Losing Me as surprise songs it's on' and now she's played both of those in one week, immediately followed by a three song mash up of Getaway car/august/TOSOTD. So... escape the closet to the other side of the door in August? 😉

#eras tour #karma #orange door theory #TS 11 and TS 12

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respectthepetty · 4 months

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Pit Babe Colors Ep. 10

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also. It's just colors and vibes here. Also, people stay spoiling this show for me in their reblog tags on my posts, so I know Charles and Jeffrey made a dumb plan but I have no idea what it includes beyond Jeffrey going to Big Red's.

Hand over heart, I think Sonic is really pretty, which is why I haven't fully thought he is a baddie, but I need a reason for him refusing to wear blue! North gets it together every now and then, but Sonic? Boy, quit relying on that face and follow the damn color assignment!

I'm missing something but I thought Charles and Barbara were fine yet here they are fighting, but Charles spidey sense is tingling, so something bad is gonna happen or will he have sex with Barbara like they did last week? And now the glasses are off! They better not have sex on this track.

Barbara is racing?! Dean was racing last week! Was Dean informed of this plot twist? Did Barbara get healed having sex with Charles last week?

You can take the red off the boy but you can't take the red out of the boy. You are acting so sus, Jeffrey! You had a full conversation with Charles and now you are just lurking in the background. Someone spoiled that he and Charles made a plan, but if the plan is murder, he is already failing at not being suspicious.

Another hand-over-heart moment, I have no effin' idea what happened on that race track because there was so many blues then a car went off the track, and I had no real idea who it was, but I do know JEFFREY HAS SOME EXPLAINING TO DO with his suspicious ass!

Big Red lives in the same place he has his cult meetings to show off his superpowered kids? Isn't there a rule of not having cult meetings where you spray your EIGHTY MILLION BONSAI TREES! That seems dumb and contradictory, but I'm not a mega villain so what do I know?

Red is usually an emergency room color, but the red yelling at me as Barbie feels all the bad things that happen in an emergency room is a lot. Charles isn't dead because color-coded boys in love get happy endings, but Barbie is probably feeling everything right now and it probably sucks.

"Don't be suspicious. Don't be suspicious." Jeffrey, you need to make out with Alan quickly to prove you're gay, because you canNOT do crimes, and are about to be in Kentana territory again. Whatever you and Charles planned, it was dumb and Barbie is now crying.

KENTANA! Are you in on this too?!

*Record scratch* Jeffrey went back to Big Red's with the dumb plan he and Charles cooked up involving Charles dying, yes? Yes! Kentana, as Big Red's whatever-he-is, knows of the plan, SO WHY IS HE BEING BEAT UP?! Kentana, break Kimberly out and run away to the beach together. Big Red doesn't even wear red! HE SUCKS! Leave!

Stuck between the blue and the red, I see. A choice has gotta be made, Kentucky Fried Chicken. Wings or Thighs? Legs are not an option. Legs are reserved for the elite squad of Peter, Alan, and Kimberly. You don't get legs! (WHERE IS KIMBERLY?!)

Barbie woke up in black. He has no man, but he has his powers, so either he is about to enter his rich widow era or he is going to go Kill Bill on these bitches.

Horrible take. Awful take. The WORST take, but . . . if Waymond didn't decide to be bad, he would have been the perfect person to comfort Babe and ease Barbie's pain, pero . . . he had to be a little bitch instead.

Oh, NOW you wanna follow the color assignment, Sonic. NOW?!

Well, Jeffrey picked up your mantle with his not-all-black outfit and bright ass white-wrapped flowers. This isn't a wedding, Jeffrey! IT'S A FUNERAL! Jeffrey, a note from The Sign's Dr. Chalothon - FAKE IT! Sir, that empty grave is supposed to be your roommate and partner-in-dumb-crime, yet I haven't seen one single tear from someone who just lost their buddy. You're more sus than the entire cast of Dead Friend Forever. How does Barbara not suspect your ass with his spidey senses?!

Damn you, Saltburn!

KIMBERLY! AND HE'S IN BLUE! *sliding down the wall and sobbing on the floor* MY BABY HAS RETURNED!

Wait! Pause! *squints* Why did Jeffrey bring Kim? And why to Alan's house? What in the Chuck E. Cheese is happening?!

Alan, Jeffrey's roommate is quote-unquote "dead" yet you are living your best life. Can you try to be sad too or are you in on this plan and this is why Kimberly is now looking beautiful on your couch?

The blue is between y'all, but just like Charles and Barbara having sex on every surface when Kimberly was being held hostage, do y'all have no shame? Making heart eyes at each other immediately after burying an empty coffin that was supposed to be Charles. Shame! At least pretend that Charles is dead! Or fill Barbie in on this dumb plan.

Vegas' Hedgehog, you pretty bitch. I hate you.

Barbie is watching the crash, and Jeffrey and Alan are playing footsie over Charles' quote-unquote "grave." But I already know I'm more upset for Barbie than he will be for himself because he'll forgive everyone for this bullshit lie in less than two minutes.

Does Barbara think Waymond killed Charles?! He might be shitty, but he is backed by the blue. He ain't guilty! Go speak to your boyfriend's roommate and his new boyfriend, Barbie!

Oh shit! I wasn't expecting you to actually go talk to them! Hold up! Is that blue on Jeffrey?! Does he actually not have anything to do with Charlie's quote-unquote "death"?

SONIC IS WEARING BLUE IN THE BACKGROUND!

Like I know shit is going down right now because Decanus sabotaged ANOTHER car *Pikachu face* but I don't think he is in on the dumb plan to "kill" Charles so . . . Kimberly wore blue this episode and Sonic is wearing blue (even though I think there is a shimmer of red there), and I'm crying in the club because this is all I wanted, and sorry to all of y'all, but the show could end right here, and I'd be happy.

Oh no. My man is crying. I am no longer happy. I am in pain. Why is he crying so hard? Was Dean his best friend? His brother? This feels personal. Jeffrey, come give our man a hug! Right now! RIGHT FUCKING NOW, JEFFREY!

Seeing Alan cry hurt way worse than anything else that happened. Charles isn't dead, so I'm just upset that Barbie has to cry and more upset that Barbara is going to be cool with whatever dumb plan Charles made without telling him, but Alan's tears were unexpected.

However, Sonic is back on his bullshit next week, so I can't stay in my feels too long.

And I get to see Peter while someone fully commits to the blue.

Oh, and we get to see the dumb-plan-that-made-Barbie-cry in more detail. *Arthur fist* Be upset at Charles for just one episode, Barbara. Just one damn episode, please. He didn't try to assault you like Waymond, but Charles has played with your emotions several times, and I just need you to knock 👏🏾 his 👏🏾 ass 👏🏾 out 👏🏾 too 👏🏾.

#pit babe #pit babe the series #the colors mean things #and they will guide me the whole way through #color coded boys in love #episode 10 #Kimberly is home!#And he and Sonic wore blue!#I could cry from happiness #but Alan is crying from sadness #and it feels inappropriate for me to be happy #and I have sympathy compared to these men who are happy to flirt #while their friends SUFFER!

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matan4il · 3 months

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Daily update post:

I wrote about a recent terrorist attack in which one Israeli young man was murdered and 13 people were injured. The most seriously injured casualty was Adi Zohar, a young pregnant woman (five months along, and with another little baby at home). She and the foetus are doing good, and she's been giving interviews from her hospital bed. In one, she mentioned that the traffic jam they were stuck in, was actually caused by a staged car accident.

I wrote about Yonatan Samerano's murdered body having been kidnapped to Gaza by two Hamas terrorists on Oct 7, one of which was also a UN worker, while they used a UN vehicle for this crime. There's nothing new on that front, but this quote from his mom Ayelet is one I think everyone should hear...

I wish I could record, translate and upload this. I got to hear an interview with an IDF officer who came out of Gaza after fighting there for a while, and he talked about having seen with his own eyes how Hamas terrorists were using Gazan civilians as human shields. He mentioned that there was an area, where they had a curfew during the night, so that if they come across anyone after dark, it would be clear that it's a terrorist. But one soldier came across a 4 years old kid walking there alone at nighttime. Even though it was dark, the soldier was thankfully able to recognize in time that it's a kid. She wouldn't speak, but the soldiers were able to locate a terror tunnel shaft not too far from where they were, and from which the terrorists sent her into this area, to test how vigil about the curfew the IDF is. While I couldn't record this specific interview, reports about Hamas' use of kids, both as human shields and as active members of the terrorist organization, are not new.

In order to improve the supply of humanitarian aid to Gaza, Israel will start allowing aid trucks directly into the northern side, rather than just allowing them into the southern part, and then having it driven from the south to the north by Gaza-based organizations, such as UNRWA. These have been allowing hundreds of trucks' worth of aid to remain lying around idle, leading to this new measure by Israel. So far, over 14,000 aid trucks were allowed in since the start of the war.

A Palestinian terrorist, who was arrested and convicted in 2004 for planning and participating in the Carmel Market terrorist attack, in which 3 people were murdered and over 50 were wounded, wrote a book while in prison, and it's now nominated for the most prestigious literature award in the Arab world, which comes with a prize of 50,000 dollars. The event's site mentions that the author is in jail, but not what he's imprisoned for.

This is 19 years old Oz Daniel.

Based on evidence collected in the past few days, he's now been confirmed as having been murdered on Oct 7, and his body was kidnapped to Gaza. There will be a funeral, which suggests that parts of him can be buried. Let it sink in that it's been 4.5 months since the Hamas massacre, and we're still identifying people who had been murdered on that day.

The news about this was aired along with a confirmation that out of 134 hostages in Gaza, 33 are kidnapped bodies. That means there are 101 living hostages there at most (with possibly at least 20 more also murdered, info awaiting debunking or confirmation). In the image below are the pics of the hostages, alive and confirmed killed, the ones with a light blue frame around their pic, have been in Hamas captivity for years.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack

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comradekatara · 3 months

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hi!! i'm sorry i don't go on tumblr a lot anymore but i was trying to look up sokka/yue playlists and i found a post of urs that said u might make one/have made one!! i was just wondering if u have it still since i'm not sure when that post was made? thank u so much for ur time!!

i definitely have one...... in my head......... but because spotify hates me, i lost access to my account shortly after i made my (extremely slept-on) katara playlist, so i never got around to making any more character playlists officially. but i can definitely make one for sokka and yue now! in no particular order...

my love, mine all mine – mitski (song, lyrics)*

fast car – tracy chapman (song, lyrics)*

57821 – janelle monáe (song, lyrics)

earth angel – the penguins (song, lyrics)

don't let me sleep – shana cleveland (song, lyrics)

cosmia – joanna newsom (song, lyrics)

watching you without me – kate bush (song, lyrics)

goodbye ghost – la luz (song, lyrics)

they can't take that away from me – ella fitzgerald & louis armstrong (song, lyrics)

happy – mitski (song, lyrics)

kokomo, indiana – japanese breakfast (song, lyrics)

fernando – abba (song, lyrics)*

northern lights – st. vincent (song, lyrics)

day dreaming – aretha franklin (song, lyrics)

don't judge me – janelle monáe (song, lyrics)

i want you – mitski (song, lyrics)*

i'll be seeing you – billie holiday (song, lyrics)

black roses – escondido (song, lyrics)*

starchild – ghost quarter (song, lyrics)*

slow like honey – fiona apple (song, lyrics)

dissolve me – alt-j (song, lyrics)

stars – grace potter & the nocturnals (song, lyrics)

timefighter – lucy dacus (song, lyrics)

tides – the xx (song, lyrics)

moon river – audrey hepburn (song, lyrics)

doused – diiv (song, lyrics)*

isle unto thyself – miracle musical (song, lyrics)

i bet on losing dogs – mitski (song, lyrics)

ready, able – grizzly bear (song, lyrics)*

have to go – esther rada (song)

responsible – sara bareilles (song, lyrics)

picture me better – weyes blood (song, lyrics)

also, some bonus sokka songs, just for fun

the motherlode – the staves (song, lyrics)*

only kid on the block – cherry glazerr (song, lyrics)

hater's anthem – infinity song (song, lyrics)*

my way – frank sinatra (song, lyrics)

heat lightning – mitski (song, lyrics)*

mouth log – sidney gish (song, lyrics)

creep – radiohead (yes) (song, lyrics)

under ice – kate bush (song, lyrics)

funeral – phoebe bridgers (song, lyrics)*

window – fiona apple (song, lyrics)

how could i – thao & the get down stay down (song, lyrics)

blue spotted tail – fleet foxes (song, lyrics)

P.S. asterisks (*) indicate that the link to the song provided is a music video or live performance and not just an official recording

#i couldve made this entire playlist with mitski songs EXCLUSIVELY. know that i bravely refrained #sokka #yue #sokkaxyue #asks #atlamusic #ihauntmyselfdaily #oh. of course someone w this url would ask me this kind of question. of course #why was this soooooo time consuming #(i already had a list written out on my phone. believe or not. but finding all the links was so tedious)#of course it's worth it tho. as a testament to my insanity #also if anyone DOES have spotify and wants to make this playlist for me (excluding some artists who arent on there like joanna newsom sadly #and then link it to me. that would make me very happy. btw <3 #my music taste must seem so sappy assuming this is as a standard sample........ it's noooottttttt #(but also. isn't it a little?)

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farity · 7 months

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Obsession, part 16

He liked moments like these. The quiet, everyday moments he had with her. Watching a scary show with her head on his thigh, him playing with her hair and smiling to himself whenever she covered her eyes. The way she laid down with three blankets on her but her bare toes peeked out at the other end of the sofa.

"Ugh, that was horrible," she said, laughing, as the credits rolled. Her phone buzzed and she sat up. "I have my appointment."

"Where is it?"

"In the main house, the empty study."

Aemond sighed. "No."

She looked at him, eyebrows raised in question.

"There is recording equipment there. I will call and have her come here - I will turn things off, and I have to talk to Aegon anyway."

Of course. Alicent had wanted the meeting somewhere she could record the conversation. She knew Aemond's office here was bugged as well, but he'd turn it all off. Besides, he already knew everything she would talk about, he'd been there for most of it, hadn't he?

She leaned over to kiss him, happy he'd made time to spent watching a silly show with her. She knew what was coming, and she knew his mind had to be racing a dozen different ways to prepare.

* * * * *

"What do you see happening long term here? In a year or two, where do you see yourself?"

You looked at the statuesque blonde sitting across from you. She had a kind smile and a very loud laugh, and Aemond had greeted her with a hug, which he rarely bestowed on anyone but his family.

"I want to do my own thing, I want something that is mine," you began, "I get it, there are limits to what I can do, but I want to be useful, I can't just do nothing all day."

"How about personally? "

Aemond had told you that she knew about your marriage, but you didn't know how much he had told her. You decided to be honest. What the hell was the point of therapy if you were going to keep shit to yourself?

"I love Aemond. I sure as hell didn't mean to, and he sure as hell didn't mean to love me, but he has told he he does and I believe him. It wasn't supposed to- I don't know."

"It happens sometimes. Some arranged marriages end up becoming love matches in the end. If you think about it, it is a very specific type of person who can fit into a family like this, to make someone born to it feel comfortable and allow them to be vulnerable."

You nodded. "I don't know how well I fit in with all this. The thought of spending my life knowing there are people out to get Aemond, out to get me, it's daunting."

"It is good that you realize that. Sometimes people are drawn to the allure of danger, but you need to live with the person behind the façade, build a life that is solid and a good foundation for what may be some difficult times."

"I went to my boss's funeral a couple of days ago."

"I'm sorry about that." There was a sincere empathy in her voice, her beautiful blue eyes kind as they gazed upon you. "There will be collateral damage - not just death, but the loss of friendships, of the familiar."

You took a deep breath. "I think I was mourning that as well. I cried like a fool, and I know it wasn't all for her."

"You were mourning the loss of your old life, the loss of anonymity. That is a very real loss, if it is all you've known. You are very strong and introspective to realize that."

* * * * *

Aemond was coming back from the main house when your session ended, and he smiled at the therapist again when he saw her. She was probably the only person he literally looked up to, because in her killer heels, she positively towered over him.

"Thank you, Brienne," he said as he clasped her hand.

"Of course. I'll see you next week?" she said to you as she slipped her bag over her shoulder.

You shook her hand, "yes, definitely."

"We'll be in Tarth soon, by the way."

Brienne smiled conspiratorially. "So I have heard," she said as she walked out the door. "Say hi to Papa for me!"

Aemond kissed you after locking the door. "Aegon has had a crush on her for years."

You pictured your brother in law next to Brienne, and laughed. "I bet he has."

"She's smacked him more than once when he's hugged her for too long, but I think that just makes him more in love."

You laid your face on Aemond's chest. "Are you still going?"

His arms tightened around you, "I didn't want to, but they're too quiet. If there's one thing the Baratheons aren't known for, is being agreeable and placid."

You said nothing, but the thought of him going to Tarth unnerved you. He'd be careful, of course, but you knew there were no certainties in this world.

"What's the deal with Brienne?" you asked, trying to distract yourself. "She's not at all what I expected."

Aemond squeezed you gently before heading to the kitchen. "Want something to drink?" he asked as you followed him. "Brienne is not what anyone expects, least of all her father. The fact that she's, you know, got a university degree and works for a living is an insult to him."

"Gods forbid."

"Exactly. I mean, Father always thought it was 'cute' how we let Helaena help with all that 'computer nonsense'," he scoffed. "He never knew how vital she is to us, regardless of how many times we told him."

"Is Borros Baratheon the same?"

"Yeah, one of the old generation," Aemond nodded, then took a long drink, and you watched his throat work, the forearms revealed by his rolled-up sleeves. "Borros considers it a tragedy that he never managed to sire a son."

You smiled, "he sounds delightful." You sipped at your drink and then put the glass down, closing the distance between you and Aemond. "Come with me."

He didn't ask, he took the hand you held out, putting his own drink down and following you.

"I hope you've finalized all your plans for Tarth," you said, looking at him over your shoulder.

"I have. Why?"

You walked into your bedroom and pulled him down for a kiss. "Because I want you. Because I want to have my husband before he leaves."

He let you deepen the kiss, let you begin to undo the buttons on his shirt and push it off his shoulders, and you felt the tension lighten under the gentle touch of your fingertips. "Gods yes," he whispered as your mouth found the spot on his neck where his pulse beat.

You shoved him onto the bed, stepped between his thighs and began to undo the belt and zipper on his pants. He watched you, chest rising and falling, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He lifted his hips to help you slide down his pants and boxers, and slid up to give you room. You slipped off the oversized sweater you wore, pushed down the leggings, to reveal a pale pink bra and matching underwear in the sheerest lace, that covered nothing at all.

"Fuck."

You slowly tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. "Well, that is my plan." Kneeling between his thighs, you took him in your hands, making him gasp, and then you took him in your mouth, and he let out a long string of profanities.

You began working him slowly, your tongue tracing around the head and the vein on the underside of his length, going as far as you could as his thighs tensed with the effort to keep still.

"I'm not- I'm not going to last," he panted, and when you hummed around him, he swore again, and you felt one hand slipping into your hair. "I want to come inside you," he muttered, and you raised an eyebrow before pulling your mouth off him.

He grabbed your arms, pulling you until you were straddling him, and then he was tearing off your underwear before impaling you on his cock. "Fuck yes. By the Seven, you feel good."

You reached back to undo the clasp on your bra, tossed it aside as you began to move. Your hips rocked as you rose and fell, the feeling of fullness had you squeezing your breasts, your head falling back as he gripped you so hard you knew you'd find marks later.

More, you thought.

You heard desperate sounds from Aemond, knew he was close, and then he slipped a hand between your bodies, your gasp turning into a moan as you realized how far gone you were. You felt him get even harder inside you and it was enough to send you over the edge, your thighs squeezing his hips as your body tensed, his fingers relentless between your legs, prolonging your release until he groaned, his own orgasm taking over as you collapsed on top of him.

You felt his hips stutter against you as you slowly floated down. One arm went around you and you felt him roll over until you were on your back. He buried his face in your hair and you wrapped your arms around him.

"I will go to battle every day if this is how you send me off," he said a minute later. His hand was running up and down your arm, and you pressed a kiss to his neck.

I'd rather you didn't go to battle at all, you thought, but said nothing. Choosing him meant choosing his life, and you knew that.

"Will you let me know how things are going as much as you can?"

"Of course." He looked down at you, kissed the tip of your nose. "Maybe we can go somewhere after all this is done."

Your eyes widened. "Really? Just you and me?"

He pressed his lips together. "With some guards."

You nodded. "Yeah, I can do that."

* * * * *

Aemond left his wife curled up on the sofa, a book in her hand as he promised her he would be back as soon as possible. It was strange this, knowing there was someone waiting for him to return.

He knew his family wanted him to be safe, but he'd never been with anyone long enough for them to matter, for them to be around when he left to potentially confront someone.

He'd gone over the plan several times with all his men, taken Aegon's input and thanked Helaena for her logistics help. He'd had Cregan Stark's name on a list of people he could call on, Stark had offered, after all, but seeing his sister so happy pulled at him and he decided not this time.

Selwyn Tarth had cleared the airspace over his land, offered as many man as Aemond wished, along with transport and weapons if needed. While Aemond was hoping it would not come to needing such resources, he appreciated the offer, and had requested a discreet amount of both firearms and vehicles.

"We're starting our descent now, sir," his pilot said, and Aemond went over the plan one more time. Every contingency, every detail, he ran through it all.

* * * * *

"I want my accounts released."

Aemond stared at Borros Baratheon, dark eyes flashing in anger as he leaned over the desk in his office.

"They will be, as soon as all our conditions are met."

There was a knock on the door and a soft voice was heard through the heavy door. "Dad?"

"I want your goons to put their guns down so my daughter can come in."

Aemond nodded and his men put their weapons away.

"Come in."

The door opened and a young woman walked in. Aemond didn't know which girl it was, but he wondered at her sudden appearance.

"Floris, come here, sweetheart."

He put an arm around her, kissed her temple.

"Look, I didn't know Viserys was going after you. I gave him what he asked for, but he didn't run his plan by me. I'd like to apologize for that."

The young woman looked down at the ground and Aemond began to get a bad feeling.

"Marry my daughter. We become family, there is no animosity between us."

"I can't marry your daughter. I'm already married."

Borros smiled. "That's easy to fix. Your wife isn't from any of the Houses, it's not like it's an advantageous match. My Floris is-"

"lovely," Aemond interrupted, "but I'm not marrying her, Borros. She's going to Highgarden."

Floris looked up then, "Willas Tyrell?"

When Aemond nodded, she turned to her father. "Father, I-"

"Shut up, girl. Are you sending my girls all over fucking Westeros?"

"I'm making advantageous marriages for them, they will all be part of families pledging their loyalty to the right side."

"And then what, when they're all married off, do I get my accounts back?"

"Dad!" Floris looked at her father, brow furrowed.

"Once they are each married and living in their new homes, you get your accounts back. After providing proper dowries to each of them, of course."

Borros glared at Aemond. "Dowries? What the fuck is this, medieval-"

"This is what happens when you make bad choices, Borros," Aemond said, "you'll keep enough to live here comfortably. And I'll leave some men to make sure you don't get in trouble."

There was the sound of something rolling around and Borros looked out the window. "What the fuck is that?"

"I will send instructions for each girl's wedding - congratulations, Floris, Willas is a very intelligent and kind man. A pleasure as always, Borros." He didn't add that she'd have to cope with his grandmother ruling over the family, but that was not his concern.

He walked out with his men as Borros ran out in time to see most of his stockpile of weapons being loaded onto a large truck. He smiled as the older man began screaming in rage.

A moment later he was shoved to the ground by one of his men as shots rang out. He turned around, gun already in his hand, as Borros aimed at him again.

He heard Floris scream and several more shots rang out before he felt a sharp, burning pain in his chest, and then everything went dark.

* * * * *

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reneeofthestars · 7 months

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Reunion

Excited to share the short story I wrote for "Star-Crossed: An Anidala Zine" @anidalazine ! A "Padme Lives" AU

Words: 2,585 * Read on AO3

******************************

Padmé Naberrie Amidala, former Queen of Naboo, former Galactic Senator, and current member of the Rebellion, had been in her share of tight spots before.

But this was the first time the tight spot was an Imperial holding cell.

She’d already examined every inch of the enclosed dimly-lit space, searching for a weakness she could exploit, but found none. There was no access panel, no loose wiring, and no ventilation system large enough for her to squeeze through. So Padmé sat on the bench and watched the door, working on what she would say when an officer inevitably came to interrogate Sola Minnau.

After all, Padmé Amidala was dead.

For a while, Padmé thought she was dead. The galaxy around her swirled in hot reds and blues, then cold blacks and whites. Grief so raw it threatened to tear her apart, pain unlike any she had experienced, then stillness. Such perfect, silent stillness. She was weightless, drifting through some gentle embrace where there was no pain. No suffering.

It was the babies’ cries that called her back.

Once she was well enough to sit upright, she held her children close to her. Leia had Padmé’s eyes; Luke had Anakin’s. She was given privacy to cry. And once she had no more tears to shed, she set to work.

Padmé contacted Sabé, and her dearest friend organized the rest. Gathering Padmé’s former handmaidens, they worked swiftly to organize a body double and a funeral, and before long, the people of Naboo mourned the death of Padmé Amidala.

Heart aching but determined, Padmé had agreed to have her children separated – from her, and from each other. Having lost Anakin, Palpatine would turn his interest to the children if he knew they lived. Obi-Wan disappeared into the Outer Rim with Luke, and Bail falsified Leia’s birth records and took her into his home.

Over the years, Padmé – Sola Minnau, now – worked closely with Bail, Mon Mothma, and other trusted allies, establishing contacts, supply lines, and information networks. They smuggled food and medicine to communities being bled dry by the Empire, and helped those in danger disappear, all while trying to bolster support to resist the ever-growing dominance of the Empire over all worlds.

They all knew the risks. If they were caught, they could be subject to execution, or worse. But Padmé couldn’t stop. She would help, no matter the cost. She had spent her childhood on relief missions with her father, and she hadn’t been able to stand by while her people suffered when she was queen. She wouldn’t hide now.

That’s the thought that kept her focused when the contact on Rodia ended up being an Imperial informant. They had barely greeted each other before Padmé was surrounded by stormtroopers. Padmé had kept quiet, giving only her pseudonym when they initially questioned her. The troopers marched her onto a shuttle, and once they’d boarded the Star Destroyer in orbit, she’d been taken to a holding cell.

She took a deep breath and leaned back against the cold wall. In the twelve years since the fall of the Republic, Padmé had never been taken aboard a capital ship. With no communication or resources, help wasn’t coming. Padmé was on her own.

The door of the holding cell hissed open. She stood as a towering black-clad figure stepped in. Coarse, mechanical breathing filled the room; Padmé forced down a shudder. They had never crossed paths, but she recognized him from endless holos and horror stories, from the expressionless helmeted mask, from the lightsaber hanging from his belt.

Darth Vader.

Darth Vader’s breath would have hitched if his respirator hadn’t dragged the air from his lungs and reinflated them automatically. His heart would have stopped if the cardiac regulator hadn’t measured out steady heartbeats. The servos in his legs whirred as the galaxy was swept from under his feet and he nearly fell to his knees, so overcome with the emotions that suddenly raged inside him.

Padmé was alive. Alive, breathing, not five feet away.

No, that couldn’t be. She was dead. Vader had observed her funeral on Naboo, had mourned at her tomb. This was some trick, some deception meant to rattle him; the Emperor himself was likely behind this, testing Vader’s resolve. What was this trickery then? A PROXY droid? A Force Apparition? A Changeling? Perhaps a handmaiden?

But as Vader and his dead wife stared at one another, he shakily reached out with the Force, and felt – Padmé. Her existence thrummed in the Force, whole and strong, with that same vibrance he remembered from so long ago.

But she’d never looked at him like this. Anger burning in her eyes, resolve in the set of her lips, defiance in her stance. He’d seen her look at others like this and he’d admired her dedication and determination. But to have her glaring at him now, with loathing and defiance… he felt unsettled.

Padmé didn’t waste time. “On what grounds was I arrested?” she demanded. “It’s unlawful to take a citizen into custody without disclosing the nature of the supposed criminal activity.”

The current Admiral of The Executor had been so smug when he’d approached Vader to announce that a rebel insurgent had been captured. Vader had strode to the detention block, flanked by two stormtroopers, ready to wring out all the information he could from the rebel scum –

Of course she would be with the Rebellion. The Empire was the very thing that she had been so concerned about creating during the Clone Wars.

He forced himself to speak. “Conspiracy against the Empire.” His synthesized voice rang out in the enclosed space, so warped and pitched that she would never realize who she spoke to.

But did he really want her to know? Did he want Padmé to know what became of Anakin Skywalker? To see this broken, twisted husk of what remained? Would she want to know? Vader had killed Anakin Skywalker, had carved out everything that remained of the naïve Jedi, everything that Padmé had loved, until only Vader remained.

She was speaking, and Vader said nothing. He just… listened to her voice, bringing to mind memories of her practicing her speeches the night before important Senate sessions, as he half-listened, so happy that the Force had their paths cross all those years ago in Watto’s shop –

Fury burned in Vader’s core and he let it fester, let it burn away at the memories of the man he had killed. He turned his head, addressing the two stormtroopers standing in the cramped cell just behind him. “Leave us.”

Hastily, the troopers filed out, the door sliding closed behind them.

His breathing filled the silence; Padmé had stopped talking when Vader spoke. He felt her fear, though it did not show on her face.

“Do you have nothing to say?”

She had come to him on Mustafar, knowing what he’d done. Even as she betrayed me, she loved me.

It was the last thing she said to him; Vader heard it in his nightmares, sometimes. “Stop, stop now, come back. I love you. Anakin…”

Grief welled in him, and he spoke before he could stop himself. “I thought I lost you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve never met.”

“You were alive, I knew you were, but I felt – I felt our bond break.” His emotions roiled through him. “You were gone, he said –“

Hatred .

“He said I killed you,” Vader rumbled. “He said I killed you in a fit of anger, and when I couldn’t sense you, I believed him. The Emperor lied to me. He’s kept you from me all these years, knowing that I –”

That he what? Would have left Emperor Palpatine’s side? That he would run away with his long-lost wife? That he would kill her?

Padmé’s eyes had gone wide, frightened, incredulous as she stared at him. In a small voice, so quiet he almost didn’t hear: “…Anakin?”

The anguish threatened to consume him.

“Anakin Skywalker is dead.” He paused. “I…am what remains.”

She stared at him for so long, so silently, that Vader wondered if this might be a dream after all. “What…what happened?”

“It is because of Obi-Wan that I am like this,” he hissed.

“No! He would never hurt you! He loved you –”

“Enough! I don’t need to hear empty assurances.”

Fear lingered in her eyes, but that spark had returned. “If you can’t believe he loved you, what about our love?”

“I loved you more than I can ever express. I did everything for you – I would continue to do anything for you – ”

“Except come with me.”

“You brought Obi-Wan to kill me.”

“No! I didn’t know! I didn’t know he’d snuck aboard my ship.” And Vader was startled to hear the truth of her words reverberate in the Force. Taking a hesitant step forward, Padmé’s eyes flickered between the lenses of his mask, as though trying to see through them. “All I wanted was you. For us to be safe, and happy. We didn’t need anything else. Even…even after everything you did…”

“It was necessary. To bring order to the galaxy, to gain powers of the Force that would save –” Vader stopped abruptly. “The child. Does the child live?”

She bristled, and that was all the answer he needed.

He turned from her, but he didn’t see the cold cell around them. He saw a child splashing in the lakes of Naboo, Padmé laughing as she chased them, and Anakin Skywalker watched them from the grass, smiling and happy, whole and unburnt.

And then his vision clouded with red, and black, and Darth Vader’s fury returned, wiping out the scene of peace that had been stolen from him. Because it had been stolen from him. If he had never pledged himself to the Emperor, never razed the Jedi Temple, never succumbed to the Dark Side, if the Emperor hadn’t lied to him about Padmé’s death…

“Anakin?”

He jolted out of his seething reverie. Padmé’s expression was carefully controlled, but Vader could sense her unease, her fear, her… hope.

Her steady voice held more gentleness than he deserved. “What happens now?”

Now, the Emperor would die. Now, Vader would have revenge. Now…

He turned on his heel and waved his hand, the cell door opening, harsh white light spilling into the dim space.

“Bring her,” he commanded.

The stormtroopers moved immediately, pulling Padmé from her cell and marching her behind him. He could feel her eyes boring into the back of his helmet, but he didn’t turn around. If he took the time to explain, he might lose his nerve.

And neither Darth Vader nor Anakin Skywalker ever lost their nerve.

Padmé wanted to cry. She wanted to curl into the corner of some isolated place and sob her heart out. Instead, she raised her chin and walked as upright as she could as the stormtroopers escorted her behind the towering Sith.

How had the man she loved become the most feared monster in the galaxy?

She had believed, all those years ago, that there was still good in Anakin, even as he turned his back on everything he believed because he thought it would save her. But when Obi-Wan said that Anakin was dead –

Obi-Wan. Did he know that Anakin lived? Did he know what had become of his best friend? Had Obi-Wan lied to her about Anakin’s death, the way the Emperor lied to Anakin? No, she couldn’t believe that. He had been nearly as distraught as her. He couldn’t have known.

With all her heart, Padmé wanted to believe that there was still some sliver of good left in the creature that was Darth Vader; some glimmer of Anakin that she could recognize. But the horrific things that Vader had done… She watched the Imperials scatter from him in fear as Vader led her through the maze of corridors. How many had he killed? Tortured? He continued to hunt down surviving Jedi, relentlessly pursued Rebel insurgents, left ruins in his wake.

Could there really be good left in such a man?

She had to believe there was.

The corridor opened to a hanger bay. TIE fighters, small cargo ships, and shuttles lined the platform; technicians, pilots, deck crew, officers, and troopers moved in tightly organized groups, or else with purpose from one task to another. Darth Vader ignored them all, heading straight for a shuttle.

Technicians tending to the shuttle tripped over themselves as they leapt to attention.

“Lord Vader! We weren’t informed of a scheduled departure –”

“An apt statement, as I don’t often operate on schedules.” The man flinched. “I have need of my shuttle. Is it suitable?”

“Yes, my lord! It has been returned to your specifications.”

As the deck crew hurriedly cleared away their equipment, Padmé couldn’t help a twinge of familiarity; of course Anakin would be particular about his ship. So that, at least, had remained.

Darth Vader stood at the landing ramp and faced her. The troopers shoved her forward. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hand twitch. But he didn’t strike. Instead, he stepped in front of them. “That will be all.”

“Sir?” one of them asked confusedly.

“I am not accustomed to repeating myself.” The low, warning tone sent a shiver up Padmé’s spine.

“Yessir,” the other said hastily, stepping back. The first trooper went to speak, thought better of it, and followed his fellow soldier.

Darth Vader’s shadow fell over her as she walked into the ship. Despite the size of the shuttle, there wasn’t much room inside; half the interior was taken up by some spherical mechanism, like a ball-shaped chamber.

“What’s happening?” she asked, doing her best to keep her tone calm.

Instead of answering, Vader swept past her, cape billowing behind him as he strode to the cockpit. “Strap in until we enter hyperspace.”

Her stomach flipped. Where was he taking her? Why didn’t he bring any guards along? Tense, she lowered herself into a seat and adjusted the safety harness. Darth Vader – Anakin – no, she couldn’t think of him as Anakin – Vader sat in the pilot's seat, expertly flipping switches and adjusting controls until the ship hummed to life.

The harsh white of the hanger bay ended as they emerged into the blackness of space. She could just spy Rodia through the viewport as Vader turned the ship and input coordinates. Coordinates to where? Within moments, the stars warped and stretched, before slingshotting them into the blue-white of hyperspace.

Gathering herself, Padmé undid the harness and stood. Vader made no movement as she walked into the cockpit. Even when she stood beside him, he didn’t turn to look at her. She gazed out the viewport feeling like she was hurtling towards –

“I will take you anywhere you want to go.”

A breath escaped Padmé. “What?”

Vader said nothing.

“You’re –” she sat heavily in a little-used copilots chair. “You’re helping me escape?”

“You will be interrogated as a Rebel spy. You may be tortured, or killed. And if the Emperor discovered your identity, he may take personal interest.”

After a long moment he added softly, “I cannot lose you again.”

With a trembling hand, she reached over and touched the side of that black mask. Finally, he turned to face her. It may have been a trick of the lenses, but for just a moment, she thought she saw his eyes illuminated in the light of hyperspace. Anakin’s eyes. Luke’s eyes.

“Come with me.”

#anidala #andiala zine #anakin skywalker #darth vader #padme amidala #vaderdala #padme lives au #rebel padme au #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars empire era #star wars original trilogy #star wars fic #star wars fanfic #renee's writing #sw #padme/anakin #padme/vader #padme amidala/anakain skywalker

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spade-riddles · 1 month

Text

Spade… I think something is afoot with this Amazon book, but not in the way everyone else thinks.

When you go to the Amazon page for the “Tortured Poets” - Willow Bowery book (published on Feb 22nd, or the 53rd day of the year — 🎁 anon), there is this description:

The 🎁 anon used the same language of what “this is” and what “this is not” in the clues. So we know what this book is NOT… it’s not the manuscript. It’s not an album or a department. It’s shared musings between an author and their audience. Got it.

Here’s where it gets interesting. While on the page for the “Tortured Poet” book, there was a sponsored ad for another poetry book: “This is a sign.” by Anon. This popped up right below the other book, as an ad, not in the “you might also like” section (so not based on search algorithm, but is a paid ad by the anon author).

Remember on February 20th (2 ✌🏼days before this Willow Bowery book was published to Amazon) when TaylorNation posted the pic of old Taylor from her Funeral in Anti-Hero with the caption “if we won the lotto, we wouldn’t tell anyone. But there would be signs.”

And everyone was all like… wtf? Seemed totally out of the blue.

(🎁 anon mentions PUBLISH and says something about looking above/for the ones the came before it)

Here is the description for This Is a Sign - Anon (published to Amazon on Dec. 20, 2023).

Book overview

“For those of us who are looking for a sign that everything will be okay, this is it.

This is a sign. is a stream of consciousness in the form of poetry and prose collected from journals and phone notes written by anon in “the pond” of her twenties, typed on a 1980s Smith Corona Typewriter, and arranged into this collection. It explores themes of home, heartache, heartbreak, and healing.”

At the Tribeca Film Festival Q&A, Taylor reveals that Typewriter in the All Too Well Short Film was an Easter Egg — it was the instrument by which the protagonist, Her, would go on to write her book.

The specific typewriter in the ATW short film was a Smith-Corona, sold under the Sears Cutlass brand.

In the author description on Amazon, it says:

“seeking to soothe souls through poetry and prose”

and provides a link to this website: anonpoetryandprose.com

So naturally, I followed the link and it takes you to a very basic webpage with a notice of the book launch, a link back to the Amazon page, and a banner that scrolls “This is a sign. -This is a sign” continuously.

The sidebar menu has only 2 options: Contact (“send me a sign”) by email, and “Postcards from Poet” for $20 with the following description: Randomly chosen poems from This is a sign. handwritten by me on a locally-sourced vintage postcard and sent to you from wherever I am ✨

Sounds like this mysterious Anon is quite the jetsetter, traveling around the world and sending postcards.

If the Willow Bowery “Tortured Poet” book is a callback to this community, and specifically to the 🎃 anon riddles, then I surmise that, with the bizzaro TN “there will be signs” ig post and the ATW short film typewriter Easter egg… perhaps our mystery author is TS herself, and this book of poetry (I’m guessing written while she recorded at Long Pond at age 29), Is a message to “us” who need reassurances that everything will be okay.

Anyway, long story short I ordered the book. And I think I might get a postcard when she starts her tour again… and see where it’s sent from.

#submission

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st4rb3rries · 10 months

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AW THE FRIENDSHIP HCS AAAA could u also write some for Tweek, Craig, and Wendy?? Thank you!!!!!!!<33

TWEEK TWEAK and CRAIG TUCKER friendship hc's .ೃ࿔*:･

pairings; tweek and craig x reader (all aged up 18+)

summary; just hc's!

warnings; slight cussing

a/n; sorry i didn't write for wendy idk how to write for her!!

YOUR FRIEND GROUP WITH THEM

craig forced you guys into all getting guinea pigs. it was at 3am too. craig saw the 24 hour pet star and was literally begging you both to get one. obviously you guys got one because craig couldn't stfu🙄. tweek named his espresso and you named yours piggy. now stripe has 2 new friends to play with!! two weeks later stripe now has one friend to play with.

tweek: "AUHG G-GUYS E-ESPRESO DIED, AUGJK WHAT AM I GOING TO DO"

y/n and craig: "WTH HOW DID ESPRESSO DIE??!??!"

tweek: "I GIVE HER COFFE JUST ONCE AND THEN-"

craig: "GOD DAMMINT TWEEK GUINEA PIGS CAN'T HANDLE COFFEE!"

you guys arranged espresso a funeral. espresso was buried in craigs backyard. she didn't deserved to be buried in her murderers backyard. everyone was crying, but tweek was crying the most. a real one was lost that day. r.i.p espresso😔🙌.

ok hear me out, you guys have a garden at tweeks house. it's y'alls relaxing garden whenever you guys are stressed from school. and it smells like coffee cause tweeks parents grow their own coffee beans their!! you guys built this garden by yourselves. it has a mini water fountain and everything. even a lil bench. you guys mostly planted flowers there.

sneaking out to the park late at night is a thing you guys do once a week. at first tweek was skeptical because you could get kidnapped. but after a few times going he now enjoys it. you guys play hide and seek cops and robbers tag and much more. it's so chaotic too because it's at night you can't see anything. lot's of screaming is heard and the neighbors once called the cops on you guys because. they thought a murder was happening💀. you guys ran away whenever you saw blue and red lights.

on those lazy days you and tweek go to craigs house and set up his movie projector outside in his backyard. you guys lay on his trampoline with blankets and munch on snacks. ghibli movies are %100 being watched. but it's all fun and games until CRAIG starts jumping. oh nah you and tweek always be flying like 300 feet into the air. so you and tweek always get craig back with a double jump. craig finally got to visit outer space that night😍.

YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH TWEEK ⋆˚✿˖°

making coffee drinks at 3am since you guys have such a bad sleep schedule!! since tweek has the keys to his parents shop. you guys sneak in and, that's when it gets real fun and messy. you guys either make the most delicious heaven sent frappuccino's on earth. OR THE MOST DISGUESTING COFFE DRINK THAT WOULD KILL A WHOLE POPULATION. like, "no tweek i aint gonna try your coffee mayo topped with celery🙄". "i'll give you $5 bucks" "ok bet" tweek really couldn't believe you drank that. he was so disappointed in you too. you drank all that just for 5 dollars tf?? even though he was disappointed in you, he recorded you drinking it. he was laughing his ass off the whole time too omfg. the next day he was so worried because he thought you died😭😭😭. in reality you got a new and exclusive virus😍.

doing your skincare for him. i feel like sometimes his anxiety makes him break out sometimes. so he comes over to your house to ask you for skin advice and for you to do his skincare! you were so excited when he asked you that like you were screaming and jumping!! tweek didn't really get the hype though🤨. first you started off with a cleanser, then a face mask. he didn't like the consistency off the face mask because it was slimey. he was like "what am i frog🙄🙄" "yes" after that you used some serums and moisturizers then you dried him off with a fan. bro was so tired and about to fall asleep until he saw you grab more boxes. "oh jesus christ what now" "nose strips and pimple patches duh🙄" tweek actually felt nice and relaxed after you were done. it became it weekly thing for you to do his skincare. but after a while he finally does it on his own everyday. he now has the most clearest skin!! thanks you to you ofc<3

so yk how tweek has his buttons all messed up on his shirt. sometimes they pop out due to his twitches so you always sew them back on just for him. but you've been sewing his buttons on for awhile and he quicky grasps the steps very easily. after a bit of practice he learned to sew his own buttons. anyways he wanted to learn a little bit more advanced things then just sewing buttons. so you taught him more! after a couple months he made so many things. like gloves, plushies, bags and much more. but his favorite thing to do is emborder his jeans and shirts. once you guys bought each other jeans and spent the whole night and morning embroidering little things and doodles about each other. i just think this is a cute little niche thing that he does. :)

baking coffee cupcakes with him is for sure a thing you guys do. he has a huge sweet tooth! i feel like older tweek is not trying to drink as much coffee since it's been damaging him since he was a kid😭. so he starts somewhere small. you suggest coffee cupcakes since he has a sweet tooth and he loves the idea. it still has coffee but not as much. he actually created the cupcake recipe and it turned out so good!! so don't be surprised when it's 4am and you get a message from tweek that says, "lets go to walmart and get stuff for coffee cupcakes." you say yes ofc because his cupcakes are so delicious!! once you guys get back from walmart. you guys put on your matching aprons and then start baking together. tweek is the cupcake expert here so you follow his instructions. whenever you mix and measure things tweek has to watch you because. one time you put the whole bottle of vanilla extract because you were talking to him and you didn't even notice. once you guys bit into those cupcakes...... you spat them back out cause they were so nasty. this time the cupcakes turned out delicious because tweek was monitoring you😭.

YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH CRAIG ୨୧⋆ ˚｡

so i hc that craig loves space as much as stripe so going to the space museum. are definitely things that you guys love to do and always do. you guys always go once a month if not more!! whenever you guys to the space museum, you never fail to smile at craigs lit up face when he enters🤭. his favorite exhibit is the big shuttle that takes up the whole place. the first time you guys were there you snuck onto the shuttle and toured it. it was all going until you guys got caught by security. you tried to ditch them but y'all still got caught. you both flipped off security whenever they escorted you out🙄. his 2nd favorite exhibit is the star room. it's a projector that shows stars on the ceilings and all the planets are hanging in there. there's also old love music playing in the background. this exhibit is for couples but he don't care. every time it's empty you guys pull up and start slow dancing. only for a minute because every time you see craigs serious face you start laughing and he does too. you guys can't take anything seriously😭 .

you and craig always have photoshoots with your guinea pigs. ik this sounds childish but, you and craigs love for guinea pigs are unmatched😔🙌. craig always goes to your house for the photoshoots. some examples that you've guys done are astronauts, race car drivers, and barbie and ken! and these photoshoots turn out so good im not even kidding. the accessories and clothes are hand made by y'all ofc. and the backgrounds are painted by craig. you always take the photos. craig does too sometimes but they turn out blurry. "i can take the photos this time if you want" "NO ITS OK I'LL TAKE THEM" (craig always prints out the photos and tapes it to his walls.) once stripe and piggy are done you let them run around in their own play area. THESE ARE SPOILED GUINEA PIGS. they have a bunch of toys, mazes that they can go through and much more. you and craig got jobs just so you can support your children🙌. once their tired from playing around you guys always make them gourmet food. craig also bought them little tables and chairs so they can eat😭. you guys get the best lettuce and herbs for your guinea pigs. and yk they be eating good since they're a lil chunky. you and craig always chop up all the veggies and plate them up. in the end you guys are very responsible and loving parents.

whenever it's late at night and the stars are beautiful expect a message from craig saying: "MEET ME ON KROOFTOP RN STAQRS LOOOK PRETYYW😭" you meet up with craig so he can read astronomy books to you. BUT only when the stars are extra pretty. obviously craig owns all the astronomy books so he brings that and a flashlight! you on the other hand, you bring blankets and snacks! craig always reads while you just sit and listen. you never offer to read just so you can hear his voice more🤭. "astronyisaphenonminathathathasbeen-" "WOAH OWAH SLOW DOWN" you say. craig says, "it's not my fault im a smarter intellectual and faster reader than you🤓🤓🤓" (with sarcasm) you guys also look for constellations too! craigs house is the best place for constellation sighting. "isn't that the big chipper or something like that?" "no you dumbass it's the big dipper🙄" you always stay up on his roof top until the dawn of morning. so it's a bonus that you get to see the sunrise too. "the sunrise is so much more prettier than those stars" "get out of my house"

craig has a thing for lego's so he insists on inviting you whenever whenever the lego set he got was easy enough for you to build. if the set is advanced then he'll stick to building it himself and here's why. it was your first time building a lego set with craig. it was that big star wars starship model. it was all finished and craig was so proud he could cry. ohhh but he did cry whenever you dropped the starship model on the ground. "y/n get out" "OH SHIT S-SORRY CRAIG IM SORR-" "please y/n just get out" THAT BIG BABY DIDN'T WANT YOU TO SEE HIM CRY OVER PIECES OF PLASTICCCC. once he started crying you hugged him. "OH Y/N SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL I TELL YA!!!" you told him that you were soooo sorry for dropping it and he forgave you. (he still holds you accountable till this day) that's why you and craig stick to easy models. like the valentines models personally those are his favorite to build with you because they are cute and simple. whenever it's february craig always gets a new valentine set for each day until valentines day. whenevr it's valentines day craig got the flower lego set for you and him😳. craig will always insist to build lego's when there's nothing to do "*sighhh* im boredddd" "wanna build leg-"

#south park #south park x reader #south park x you #south park x y/n #south park hcs #tweek tweak #tweek tweak x reader #tweek tweak x you #tweek tweak x y/n #tweek tweak hcs #craig tucker #craig tucker x reader #craig tucker x you #craig tucker x y/n #craig tucker hcs

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