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torturedpoetemotions · 1 year

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@valleyg0th Like I said, answering this in a separate post because it's too long-winded for a reply and sort of off the topic of the original post. My comments and yours from that post above for reference.

Also, I'd like to preface this by saying that the ethical and moral considerations around RPS/RPF are massively nuanced and complicated, and something that I'm still working through myself. That being said, I do have some pretty hard and fast ideas about what ISN'T okay, which inform a lot of what I'm getting into below.

But first, I'd like to clarify my statement as it seems from your reply that it did not come across the way I intended. When I say "something Taylor has made it clear she doesn't want to be super public about" I'm not talking about her sexuality. I'm talking about her relationships in general.

She has made it very clear, repeatedly, over the years that she does not appreciate uninvited intrusions into her personal life. That's not really debatable at this point. She wants to be the one to choose what and when and how her personal life is shared with the world. If she has ever asked for anything, anything at all, it's that.

That's part one of why I find the constant spreading and debate and speculation over these still-unconfirmed break-up rumors so distasteful, particularly from people who claim to love Taylor.

Part two of why I find it so distasteful is the way so many people are celebrating this breakup rumor because it validates their theories about Taylor's sexuality, rejoicing that she's "gotten rid of her beard" and such. That's gross regardless of what you think her sexuality is. If people were on here going "oh yay she broke up with Joe this is how Haylor can still win" I would find that despicable, too.

I'm not particularly invested in any of Taylor's relationships beyond being happy that she's happy, but I do participate and get invested heavily in RPS/RPF in other fandoms, and the keys to respectful RPS/RPF are pretty clear, whether the ship in question is het or queer.

1. You do not demonize, villainize, or harass the real life significant others of the people your ship concerns. (It's also generally considered distasteful to float or perpetuate rumors or conspiracy theories about the relationship being fake or forced, but the bare minimum is you don't make whatever you think about the relationship that SO's problem.)

2. You do not involve or bother the children of the people your ship concerns in any way, ever.

3. You do not ever, ever, EVER put your shipping or associated material (i.e. fics, fanart, theorizing, tinhatting) where the real people it concerns are likely to see it.

And that third one is where Swifties, Gaylors in particular, are really fucking failing right now. Now, if a famous person goes onto AO3 and searches for their name, that's one thing. Or they come into any fandom space where they aren't a known presence and start poking around...they went looking for it. But bringing it up at live events or putting it on social media platforms that said celebrity openly frequents in a way they're likely to see it (i.e. by @ing them or putting it under their name's hashtag) is crossing a line.

And yet what is the Taylor Swift tag FULL OF, on tumblr where we all know Taylor has had an account for years and lurks occasionally? People calling Joe an ex-beard, celebrating the end of their relationship, and analyzing her every move and facial expression and song choice in the context of these unconfirmed break-up rumors.

This shit is gross, full stop. And on top of everything else, far too many of the fans in the Gaylor camp are quick to call anyone who has a problem with their behavior in this regard a homophobe, trivializing the very real dangers and struggles faced by queer people to win their stupid little fandom arguments. That's disgusting. It disgusts me as a queer person.

Part three of why I find all the breakup rumor speculation so distasteful is that once again, Taylor is doing the absolute most and completely killing it at her career, but many of her so-called fans only want to focus on her relationship status with some guy. It's all "she's doing so great on tour in spite of the Joe breakup!" or "she's doing so great on tour because of the Joe breakup!" How about we stop attributing anything in this woman's career to the men she's involved with? Are we capable of that? Have we fucking evolved past 2015 yet?

As for Taylor's habit of leaving clues in her albums, I find it wild that people assume because she has left fairly obvious little puzzles and easter eggs for us throughout her career ABOUT her career, i.e. background info about the music on an album or foreshadowing around what's coming next, that means that she's constantly sending us secret coded messages about her private life.

Like...capitalized letters in liner notes that spell out a detail about that song or album that you wouldn't otherwise know, or a numerical code on her instagram that reveals the vault tracks on her next TV re-recording, or even easter eggs in a music video related to very public knowledge that inspired the song and album...are all a pretty far cry from "Taylor has been sending secret, unconfirmed signals that only we can see for over a decade to tell us that she's actually queer and being forced to stay in the closet and have PR relationships with men she doesn't care about."

And finally, I actually don't have a problem with interpreting Ivy or any of Taylor's music as queer. Interpreting art is not the same thing as speculating on the artist's sexuality, and it sure as hell isn't the same thing as celebrating a breakup rumor because it validates that speculation. I myself interpret a LOT of Taylor's music as queer. But I also understand that how I interpret art is just as much about me as it is about the art.

Me finding something in Taylor's music that I resonate with as a queer person doesn't necessarily mean Taylor herself is queer. And even if she is, she hasn't chosen to share that with us, so it's simply none of my goddamn business. "A lot of Taylor Swift's music resonates with me and my queer experiences" and "Taylor Swift's sexuality is none of my business" are ideas that can and should coexist.

As are "I think she might be" and "but that's none of my business" for that matter! Hell, I can even admit that based on my own experiences of being closeted and coming out, I wouldn't be surprised at all if one day Taylor comes out as bi. But that doesn't mean she OWES me or anyone else that disclosure, or that it's okay to be on the internet endlessly speculating on unsubstantiated rumors concerning something we know she specifically likes to be private about in a place we KNOW she's likely to see it! Especially when that speculation gives way to actively celebrating the end of her relationship without knowing a) if it has actually ended, and b) how she feels about it if it has.

#jaylor #jaylor breakup rumors #swifties #swiftie fandom

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inmywritingera · 4 months

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Illicit Affairs: A Folklore Story

Part one: Betty

The Beginning

She never thought there was anything wrong with being a hopeless romantic. It’s what she grew up knowing, watching her parents dance in a refrigerator-lit room at midnight when they thought they were alone. Through their love, she saw the world through soft light and believed three fundamental things: people are innately good, everyone is worthy of love, and the right love will be built on mutual respect and understanding. She knew love was out there for her, just waiting in the shadows.

So when Betty officially met James in the fall of her junior year, something in her stirred and she thought, this could be it. He could be the one. The connection seemed instant and natural, leaving her thinking that they could someday mirror the love her parents had. And every love story has a beginning.

“Hey,'' came a soft, deep voice from behind her as she gathered her books from her locker. Startled, she whipped her head around, wild blonde curls flying around her shoulders. There he was. James. She felt her heart tremble and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered so strongly she thought they would fly up her throat and out of her mouth. “You’re Betty, right?”

“Obviously,” she replied, internally cringing. Don’t screw this up, she urged herself. “I mean yeah, I’m Betty. Don’t you know this?” She chuckled nervously and tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear., glancing up at him from beneath her long eyelashes. He towered over her, his dark hair unkempt as if he had just rolled out of bed. To her absolute horror, she was suddenly flooded with visions of them together in his bed, making the blood rush to her cheeks. Being so close to him allowed her imagination to run wild and she quickly pretended to be very interested in her shoes.

“Well, yeah. We’re in chemistry together.” I know that, she thought, hoping that he wasn’t just an idiot. She’d been fawning over him for years, despite never really speaking to him. He was the quiet but funny type with strong opinions. They’d shared history class together last year; whenever it came time for him to present a project, he did so with a passion that made it clear he was genuinely interested in the topic. He was well-liked amongst most teachers and was just popular enough that he was known around school by most students for his soft-spoken humor. She’d gushed and gushed to her best friend until Augustine had finally told her to stop and actually do something about it. I didn’t have to, did I? Betty thought smugly.

“Yeah, we do have chemistry together,” she said rather stupidly, still staring at her shoes. “We had history last year, too.”

“Well, I don’t mind having chemistry or history with you.”

Wait, what? Was he…flirting? At this point, Betty finally lifted her head and looked up at him, blue eyes wide. His chocolate eyes stared intently back.

“Listen, I know we’ve only kind of seen each other at parties and shared a couple of classes, but we don’t really know each other, do we?”

“I guess not.” Get to the point, she thought, worried about being late to class.

“I’d like to get to know you,” he said conspiratorially, leaning in close. “I’ve had my eyes on you for a while.” He paused and chuckled softly. “Wow, that sounded way creepier than it did in my head.”

“Yeah, it did,” Betty laughed. “But I guess now I can say the same.” Her heart was racing and she nervously rubbed her palms on the front of her jeans. “I’ve kind of been into you for a while, too.” She paused. “You make me laugh.”

“Well, this is a great coincidence,” he stated as they finally started their walk to the chemistry classroom, making mindless but comfortable smalltalk. The hallways were buzzing with summer vacation gossip and new couples making out against lockers. They stopped just outside, ignoring a particularly entwined couple, and turned to face each other. “You know, it’s unseasonably warm today,” he said suddenly. Seriously, the weather??

“It is,” she said simply, wondering where this was going.

“An unseasonably warm September day makes for a perfect walk on the beach, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose so..?” Is he about to…

“Okay, I’ve been working up to this for a while.” He looked nervous but quickly composed himself and smoothly continued, running his hand through his hair. “Why don’t we take a walk down to the beach after class? The surf is still pretty intense with the storm yesterday and there’s something about the crashing waves…”

“That brings you peace?” Betty finished for him. James smiled.

“Exactly.” Her heart was thumping so loudly there was no way he couldn’t hear it. “We’ll go there after class and find our peace, yeah?”

Oh, my god. This isn’t happening. This is a dream and I’ll wake up any minute.

“Okay,” she said with a smile.

“All right,” James grinned. “It’s a date.”

The Dance

“It’s gorgeous, James!” Betty exclaimed as James tied the corsage around her wrist as their parents wildly snapped picture after picture. It was a band of white lace decorated with peonies and lavender, Betty’s favorite flowers. The blues and purples matched perfectly with the pastel chiffon of her prom dress. The air was sweet with the scent of pollen and approaching summer, with only a lingering nip of the late spring wind. James beamed, evidently very pleased with himself.

“I knew you’d love it,” he said, and tilted her face towards him to gently press his lips against hers. He took her decorated wrist and bowed to kiss her hand. “Shall we?”

They turned together and stepped through the doors of the school hand in hand, pausing for a quick, cheap portrait before entering the gymnasium. It had been transformed by tricks of lights and florals into a garden paradise. Music pulsed from speakers all around the room and the dance floor was already thick with classmates celebrating the end of a stressful school year. The last nine months had flown by in a flurry of college applications and essays and it was clear Betty wasn’t the only one relieved that it was over and welcomed the start of summer break.

It wasn’t all so bad, though–she’d had James. It hadn’t been just nine months of bureaucratic college nonsense–it had been nine months of walks on the beach, regardless of the temperature. Snow on the beach was weird, but beautiful. They spent nights together when he made her his own and enjoyed plaid shirt days as autumn stripped the trees bare. It was nine months of kisses stolen in his car at a stoplight. Holidays with each other’s families. A winter wrapped in each other’s arms, the heat of their skin against each other keeping them warm through every snowstorm. Falling in love with James had been the greatest part of junior year and Betty had been looking forward to dancing with him for months.

“Oh look, there’s Augustine!” She was standing by the drink table looking like a completely different person. The backless red dress she wore clung to her body like a second layer of skin and the auburn hair she usually wore in a messy bun fell sleekly down her back, stopping just above her waist. Betty knew that Augustine was easily one of the most beautiful girls in their grade, and Augustine carried herself with an air of confidence that indicated she knew that, as well. She always drew attention from guys across every clique and nonchalantly brushed off every advance. That confidence surrounded her in a halo and the air around her seemed to shimmer as she made her way towards them.

“Girl, you look incredible!” Betty said, looking her best friend up and down with approval. She didn’t notice that James was also staring at Augustine. “No wonder you kept it a secret from me!” She grabbed Augustine’s hand. “Let’s go dance!”

The trio made their way towards the dance floor, and let themselves become swept up in the music and movement of dancing bodies. Betty was finishing a dance with Augustine when the music slowed and the soft introduction to her favorite song began.

“Oh, my god, James! It’s our song!” Betty turned excitedly towards James, only to find him gone. She turned towards Augustine. “Where’s James?” she asked. Augustine just shrugged and told Betty she was going to go take a break.

“Wanna dance?” Someone she didn’t recognize had approached her while she was searching the room for James and was holding out his hand.

“Do I know you?” Betty asked, eyeing her suitor with a raised eyebrow.

“You will once you dance with me.” She rolled her eyes. This guy seemed annoying already.

“I’m here with my boyfriend, you know.” I think I am, anyway.

Mystery Guy looked around. “I don’t see him.” He turned back to her. “Besides, I’m sure he won’t mind. Once he sees my hot moves, he’ll be jealous he isn’t me.” He spun in a very Michael Jackson manner and Betty laughed then. Well, it is my favorite song, she reasoned with herself. Plus, he seems harmless.

“Okay, fine,” she said with a resigned smile. He put his arms around her and Betty scanned the room again, just in time to see James standing in the doorway looking like he was about to get his knuckles bloody. But he didn’t approach them and take her in his arms himself. Instead, he turned on his heel and stormed away.

Rumors

James had never returned when he left the gym on prom night. Betty received a text from him just before the end of the dance explaining that he was getting claustrophobic and had to go home. Ever since, things seemed different. She knew he was angry with her for dancing with someone else at prom, but they’d talked about it. She had apologized and explained that she just wanted to dance to her favorite song but James was gone. Things seemed fine for a while.

She wasn’t exactly sure when everything changed, but she didn’t feel like James was James. He spent most of his time working at Schmoe’s, a yogurt shop down on the beach, so they didn’t see each other as much. But it wasn’t just that. He seemed distracted whenever they were together, always checking his phone. She chalked it up to nerves, knowing he had recently sent out a bunch of college applications and was likely waiting for a response. They didn’t walk on the beach the way they used to but occasionally at night, they would wander down and watch the waves bring the moon’s reflection to the shore. James would check his phone and suddenly declare that he needed to head back home. He never gave a reason why; he’d just kiss her good night and she would walk home alone. Every time she asked him what was wrong, he’d just brush it off and after a while, she developed a sinking feeling that something wasn’t right between them.

Betty was writing out a college essay in Augustine’s room when she noticed a sweatshirt that she recognized crumpled on the bed. “Hey, isn’t this James’s?” She asked, holding up the sweatshirt.

“Oh yeah,” Augustine said, quickly looking back down at her own essay. “I ran into him at Schmoe’s last night and it was freezing, so he lent me his sweatshirt so I wouldn’t be cold walking home.”

“That was so nice of him,” Betty said dreamily, continuing her work. “Isn’t he the sweetest?”

“Yeah, he is,” Augustine replied quietly, focusing on the essay. Betty felt an uneasy suspicion creeping in as she took note of the strange tone in Augustine’s voice, but quickly brushed it off as ridiculous. There’s no way.

Betty and James were having one of their beach walks on a particularly humid night. Betty was deep in thought and James was silent, which wasn’t unusual for him these days. It had been a few days, but that sweatshirt on Augustine’s bed was still on Betty’s mind. She decided to broach it cautiously.

“Hey, did Augustine ever give you your sweatshirt back?” Betty asked James casually.

“Huh?” James responded, snapping out of whatever reverie was grasping his attention.

“Your sweatshirt. It was at Augustine’s; she said you guys ran into each other the other night and you gave it to her so she wouldn’t be cold.”

“Oh, yeah. Right. Yeah, she gave it back.”

“Oh, good.” She paused, wondering if she should follow her train of thought. “When? I was just over her house and we’ve hung out, like, all week.” Her attempts at sounding casual were weakened by the slight accusatory tone in her voice. If James noticed, he didn’t give any indication.

“Uh..she dropped it off at Schmoe’s earlier today.” He quickly changed the subject then, asking Betty about her college essays, effectively ending the conversation.

James’s unusual behavior continued until finally Betty found herself thinking, is there someone else? The thought came suddenly, catching her off guard. The signs were certainly there but could also easily be explained away. She tried to shrug the feeling off, but it remained in the back of her mind like a mosquito in her ear as she recalled once again the hoodie on Augustine’s bed and the heavy feeling of suspicion she had felt in her chest. Don’t be silly, she scolded herself. They would never do that to me.

But when she had asked James about it, his story didn’t quite add up. She spent the entire week with Augustine, and James was at work most of that time. She couldn’t figure out when Augustine would’ve given the sweatshirt back. She felt ridiculous stressing over an article of clothing but something just wasn’t sitting right with her.

She was stretched languidly on her beach towel, soaking in the burning late July sun, when her phone buzzed with a text from Ines. Betty shared a few classes with her and had shared many for the last three years. She didn’t necessarily consider Ines a friend but she had her number, and discussions were mostly about assignments and the occasional small talk. That’s why she was surprised when she opened the message.

I think there’s something you should know.

She knew Ines was a gossip, but Betty’s heart did a little flip anyway.

A second text came through a moment later. It’s about James.

“You can’t believe a word Ines says!” James exclaimed, pulling at his hair in frustration. Betty stared coldly at him, arms crossed over her chest. They were standing in James’s bedroom with Betty still as a stone and James frantically pacing.

“Most times.”

“Jesus, Betty! You seriously think I left prom, got in the car with your best friend, and have been sleeping with her ever since? Because Ines told you??”

“Well, she saw you get in the car with Augustine when you allegedly went home because you were ‘claustrophobic.’” Betty’s voice was thick with sarcasm at “claustrophobic.” James blanched. “She also saw you at the beach with her last week and she said it didn’t look like ‘just friends.’”

“Oh please,” James said, rolling his eyes. “Ines would say anything to stir the pot. Yes, I was at the beach with Augustine, but it was because we ran into each other after I was done with work. We hung out a bit and I gave her my hoodie so she wouldn’t be cold.” That did match up with what Augustine told her. Maybe she was overreacting…

“Besides,” James continued in an accusing tone. “You’re one to talk about looking like more than ‘just friends’.”

Betty sighed in exasperation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, James.”

“I’m talking about prom night! I leave for a second and come back to see you dancing with some random guy!” He was beginning to raise his voice and Betty felt rage start to bubble in her chest.

“For God’s sake, James!” she yelled. “I thought we already talked about it–you can’t seriously be throwing that in my face again. That was two freaking months ago! It was just a dance! ”

“To our song!” She could see James getting angrier and angrier, which only fed the flames of her own fury.

“James, it was just a dance!” She repeated in frustration. “You were gone.”

“I just had to get some air! I hate crowds, you know that!”

“Well, in any case, I had the opportunity to dance. I already apologized for that. But your response seemed to be getting in the car and the bed of my best friend.” She stared directly at him, her face stoic despite the rage in her chest as she watched a variety of emotions cross his face. He quickly pulled himself together, taking a deep, steadying breath.

“Betty,” he said slowly. “You’re being crazy.”

Oh, no he didn’t. If she wasn’t crazy before, she certainly was now. Red hot fury sped up her neck and into her cheeks and she curled her hands into fists.

“Do not fucking call me crazy, James!” she shouted. “You’ve been acting weird all fucking summer! This explains literally everything!”

“You’re being paranoid for no reason!”

“For no reason?! Ines tells me you’ve been sleeping around with my best friend and your best response is that I’m fucking being ‘paranoid for no reason’? Be serious, James!”

“I said it once and I’ll say it again–you cannot believe a fucking word Ines says. You know this!” He took a deep breath, collecting himself before stepping towards her. “Betty, I would never hurt you. You know that, right?” His voice was low as he pulled her towards his chest and stroked her hair. She sighed against him and they stood that way for a while.

“I’m sorry,” Betty said, a little uncertainly. “I guess I did let Ines get in my head a bit. She’s probably just bored and wants something to talk about.”

“I’m sorry I called you crazy. I was just frustrated that you weren’t listening to me when I was telling you that she’s a damn gossip.” She didn’t respond, just laid her ear against his chest and listened to his heart thump.

“I would never hurt you, Betty,” James repeated. And for a moment, Betty believed him.

But then she saw it. A half-used bottle of perfume that she instantly recognized. Her stomach dropped and she pulled away from him.

“James,” she said slowly, pointing at the bottle. “What is that?”

Panic flashed across James’s face. “Perfume,” he said obviously. He moved away from her and began pacing again as Betty further inspected the bottle. “It’s an early birthday present.” She could tell he was working to sound confident but Betty wasn’t an idiot. “James, I’m not stupid. You know I don’t wear perfume.” She turned and faced James, a coldness creeping through her veins as realization struck her. “But Augustine does.”

James paled then and stopped pacing to look at her. “Why is Augustine’s perfume in your bedroom, James?” He swallowed hard and just stared at her, anxiety plain on his face.

Betty took another deep breath, already knowing the answer. “Did you sleep with her?” She paused and added softly, “You can’t keep lying to me now.” He was silent, staring intently at her, then sighed deeply in resignation, giving up on his attempts at ignorance.

“I did,” he admitted quietly. “I am. Ines is right.” Betty felt the blood drain from her face and she began to tremble. She stepped away from him. This time it was true, she thought grimly as tears prickled in her eyes. Suspecting your boyfriend was cheating and knowing it for sure were two different things.

“And you called me crazy…”. She sank onto his bed and put her head in her hands. Her chest burned from the shards of her broken heart and a heavy pit made its home in her stomach. She was my best friend…how could she…there was an indescribable storm of rage swirling and bubbling in that new pit and she clenched her hands hard against her forehead, wishing she could pound out the images invading her mind. She knew if she acted on her anger she would destroy him. She knew if she acted on her anger she would hurl words and lamps at him with intent to harm. She knew that she would have so much to regret if she acted on her anger, and so she didn’t say anything at all. No one likes a mad woman. The soft world built on the foundation of the love she grew up watching her parents share crumbled into dust around her. What was there to say?

James begged her to say something, but she remained silent. I gave him so many signs that I knew something was wrong. But he lied. And lied. And lied. She was vaguely aware of James’s feeble attempts at explaining himself but couldn’t hear anything over the thud of her own heart and the ringing in her ears. He wasn’t just my first. He was hers, too. Augustine was her best friend, after all.

After a while, she turned her despairingly blue gaze onto James, who looked like he was going to vomit. She regarded him for another moment, then stood and silently left the room. James called out to her, begging her to stay and talk, but she was gone, leaving him in the hall with the last of his love in his hands.

Cardigan

As composed as she had been when James and Augustine broke her heart, by the time Betty reached her car across the street, she was falling apart. She sobbed and screamed and smashed her fists on her steering wheel, cursing James for throwing her aside like an old cardigan after spending almost a year telling her she was his favorite. Memories flooded her mind and she flashed back to their early days when they walked home from a house party and drunkenly danced under a streetlight, laughing loudly enough that neighbors yelled out their windows to tell them to shut up. He held her closer than usual that night and kissed her with passion and intensity. His hand had traveled under her sweatshirt and the night ended with their chests pressed tightly together, hearts beating in unison.

Tears ran hot down her face as visions of worn Levi’s and streetlights, snowball fights and quiet nights flashed before her eyes like a silent movie. Her chest ached, tight and hot as she struggled to fill her lungs with air. She continued screaming curses at him from the privacy of her car before turning her anger onto Augustine as her mind raced with images of Augustine and James together in ways she thought were only for her.

She was angry with herself for not listening to her intuition, which had told her for weeks that something wasn’t right. What did I do to deserve this, she sobbed to herself. Even on my worst days, I do not deserve this hell.

After a while, Betty’s tears began drying on her cheeks as she stared blankly forward, not seeing past her windshield. She stayed that way, observing the coldness that was spreading across her heart, leaving her completely numb. Betty eventually looked up at the house to see James standing at the window, watching her.

She felt oddly calm as she pulled out her phone and sent Augustine a simple, short message.

You can have him, but never speak to me again.

Betty blocked Augustine then, put her phone on silent, and pulled away. She knew James was still watching from his window. She drove away without looking back.

#love #taylor swift #folklore #short story #teenage love triangle #swifties #swiftie fandom #love story #romance #teen

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