#CATASTROPHIC BLUES MOVING ON WAS ALWAYS EASY FOR ME TO DO | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

updownlately · 7 months

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i'm so furious (at you for making me feel this way)

| leah williamson x reader | a little sprinkle of angst, a little hint of fluff | 2.4k | a/n: another req! this one's based off the song 'gorgeous' by taylor swift and as usual, it's not at all proofread. honestly took a completely different direction as i was writing it but eh. to whoever requested it, my bad it took a while- hope you like it! happy reading folks!

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“What? You’re not gonna say ‘hi’?”

Eyes rolling at the cocky voice directed your way, you shook your head slightly, walking faster as you ignored the woman standing in front of you.

You really didn’t have the energy to deal with this now, not after how exhausting your past few days, months, really had been.

Intending on joining the rest of your team at the table without a fuss, you brushed by her without as much as a second glance, letting out a breath as you got away.

Or so you thought.

You didn’t make it more than a couple steps past her before you felt an all too familiar hand wrap around your wrist, your moments stilling at the force.

Huffing, you didn’t bother turning around, instead choosing to speak loudly so you wouldn’t have to look at her.

“Leah, let me go…”

“Stay a minute? Let me buy you a drink.”

You could feel the smirk in her voice as she spoke, it already infuriating you as it had many times before, this time without you even having to see it.

Clenching your jaw, you dropped your voice, still looking straight ahead, nearly empty glass held precariously in your other hand.

“I’m not in the mood to talk.”

Hearing a scoff in response, you made a move to tug your wrist out of her grip, failing to do so as it instead tightened slightly.

“Not in the mood to talk, yet you’re talking to everyone here but me?”

The accusation was followed by a laugh but you knew Leah well enough to know she was anything but joking.

Turning around to meet ocean blue eyes, you pursed your lips as you narrowed your eyebrows, not in the mood for any of the midfielder’s shenanigans.

“Take it as a compliment…”

With that, you twisted your arm sharply, effectively breaking out of her hold as she held your gaze.

“And what would be the compliment exactly? You hate me enough to ignore me?”

You froze slightly as she took a step closer, letting out a shaky breath as her piercing eyes peered into yours.

Swallowing hard, mind racing with memories of when you used to look into these exact pair of eyes fondly, having been teased by your shared teammates thousands of times, you felt your heart tighten slightly, a dull ache making itself known.

Trying to seem nonchalant, you shrugged in response, your slightly intoxicated state causing the following words to slip out of your mouth before you could even think about the consequences.

“That you look so gorgeous it makes me mad you aren’t mine…” You mumbled bitterly.

The ‘anymore’ goes unsaid, but you know she heard it too, her head tilting as a small smile crossed her face.

Despite having broken up nearly a year ago, the blonde hadn’t gotten over you. No matter how many people she had met, dates she had been set up on, times she had been asked out, each and every time the English captain tried to get over you, she had failed miserably, always finding herself comparing her companion for the date to you.

It was getting ridiculous at this point really. Even if she wanted to get over you (spoiler: she didn’t), she couldn’t.

Memories of the way you’d always shoot the blonde a grin, even in the worst of times, and how you’d always beg her for piggyback rides after games unforgettable to Leah.

The countless times you had spent late nights and early mornings together, talking about nothing and everything, bodies curled up against one another as an easy air filled the room.

The innumerable times you had tried (and failed miserably) to teach the blonde how to cook, it always ending up with her banished to sit on the counter as you would try to save the catastrophe she would somehow manage to cause (and later apologise for with infinite cuddles and kisses).

It was all that was on her mind, a piece of her knowing you had been the one, the one she had and then lost.

Months of anxiously waiting for you to even be in the same room had led to tonight, dinner and drinks with your and her national teammates, the two teams having just played a friendly in London. And the blonde would be lying if she denied the fact that she had today’s date saved in her calendar since the game had been scheduled.

“Can’t bear talking to you…” you muttered the words under your breath, mind a frenzy with her perfume infiltrating your senses- the same perfume you always loved smelling on the hoodies you’d steal from her years before.

You watched as Leah’s smile disappeared at your words hushed words, a disappointed look taking over her face at your words, the hurt clearly visible.

Your heart sank as you watched the change. Realising how those words sounded, you quickly began to backpedal. Just because she wasn’t yours anymore didn’t mean you cared any less for her.

Stammering out, you blushed in embarrassment as the words fell from your lips.

And as you did, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, you should’ve stopped after the fourth drink like your friends had suggested.

“Can’t say anything to your face because every time I look at you it makes me furious that I’m not over you yet- that I still feel this way even though you’ve moved on…”

Eyes downcast as you trailed off, you curled slightly in on yourself, self-conscious of the feelings you had make known, the knowledge that they were very much one sided unsettling.

It’s why Leah’s retort caught you off guard, the softly whispered words, quiet enough that you almost missed them, tilting your world on its side.

“Who said I have…”

Whipping your head up, you watched the blonde took a sharp breath in, clearly caught off-guard by her own admission.

Almost believing her for a minute, you shook your head in disagreement.

“Pictures don’t lie Leah…the girl you were with the other day? All cozied up first at a club, then Ibiza?”

“You keep up with me.” The statement was accompanied with a cheeky grin, the other girl avoiding your question completely.

Feeling a smile creep up on you at her cheekiness, you clenched your jaw. You couldn’t believe you were falling for her charm again.

“You know what, you have a point…I’ll stop.” The cold words came out cleanly, nearly emotionless as you did your best to give her nothing to work with.

You didn’t know if you could survive falling for her again, and you didn’t want to find out.

Leah didn’t mind expressing her distaste at your statement however, the protest immediate. “You don’t have to…”

“Oh no but I do- you ruined my life you know?”

You words were emotion laced this time, mind hazy with the alcohol thrumming through your veins, a stark contrast to your sentence before- the anger you had pent up over the past year finally coming to light.

“Me?! How?”

“By loving me and then leaving me…by not being mine!”

“You were the one who left! And she’s just a friend, honest!” The Gunner put her hands up in the air, a genuine expression on her face.

Taking a quick glance behind you and then Leah, you made sure none of your teammates were eavesdropping, well aware of their tendency to blow things out of proportion.

It’s not like your relationship had been a secret, but you had just never bothered to confirm anything with anyone, too content in your own little bubble to let anyone else take a peak.

Still, you didn’t need the relentless jesting of your teammates tonight- not after the emotional rollercoaster you were currently on.

Facing the blonde again, you lowered your voice. “We were just friends too…”

The resounding ‘no’ you received was immediate, Leah’s definitive tone leaving nothing up for debate. “No we weren’t. We never were just friends. You know it.”

“Leah…”

Grabbing your wrist once more, a stern look on her face, Leah hastily pulled you to a dark corner of the bar, you both hidden in the shadows as she turned to face you, eyebrows furrowed in anger, nostrils flaring, a striking change in her demeanour.

“Don’t ‘Leah…’ me. You left. You decided that you were going to move to a whole new country without asking me. You chose a long distance relationship for us without asking me what I thought. You left me. And where did that leave us? Leave me? I can’t even go on a date with someone without thinking of you!”

By now the blonde was breathing heavily as you stared, jaw clenched as you took in her words.

“You were the one who chose to break up!”

She stepped closer to you, invading your personal space, head slightly down as she met your gaze.

“You signed the contract before we could even talk!”

“You didn’t even bother fighting for us!”

“‘Cause you didn’t even give me a chance to!“

“I-“

“You what?”

The sharp response had your eyes widening, heartbeat racing as your mind remember the chaos of last summer’s transfer window. The way you hadn’t felt at home in London wearing blue. How countless nights were spent apart from your girlfriend, the physical distance between you short, but still feeling like you were kilometres apart.

You had figured that maybe some space would’ve done you some good. It’s why you had decided to quietly sign for Wolfsburg, only telling the blonde after since she had barely been home, had barely talked to you.

Looking back now however, maybe it wasn’t your wisest decision.

Whispering quietly as the realisation hit you like a truck, your eyes widened.

“I didn’t know…”

All you got in response was the blonde stepping impossibly closer to you, your faces inches away.

“You wanna know the worst part? I hate that I still miss you everyday. I hate that I still wake up some mornings reaching out to your side of the bed. I hate that the only time I see you is when I see pictures of you online. I hate that the first time I’m seeing you in nearly a year is in a dingy bar with the rest of our drunk teammates milling around when this past year could’ve been so different for us. I hate that I can’t have you. I hate that you aren’t mine”

The frustrated words slowly morphed into those of defeat, leaving you breathless- the declaration, the sentiment of Leah’s words not lost on you. You definitely didn’t expect the night to go like this.

You didn’t know what to say, mind reeling at the fact that you weren’t the only one who hadn’t gotten over your relationship. To be fair, you didn’t know how many people got over a two, nearly three year relationship quickly, but with all the social media posts and the stories you would hear about the blonde from mutual friends, you had figured she moved on pretty quickly.

You’d clearly been wrong though.

“I-”

Pleading ocean blue eyes looking in yours, you let yourself sink and drown in the emotions swimming in the orbs.

“I-…I’m sorry.”

Swallowing hard, you contemplated on telling the blonde the news you’d been holding back for the better part of a month, the summer international season wrapping up today and giving you way to make an official announcement soon.

You saw as Leah observed you closely, her head tilting to the side as she sensed you were holding something back, her knowledge of you from when you dated not lost in the slightest.

You stared blankly as her eyes went wide, her stepping away from you as the gears in her brain turned.

“Oh my god, please don’t tell me you have a girlfriend or someth-“

Shaking your head quickly, eyes widening at the worldly incorrect guess, you placed your hands on her waist, immediately pulling her back, her warmth alluring, her presence a comfort you had missed dearly and didn’t want to lose for even a second.

“No. God, I couldn’t even if I tried. Trust me, you weren’t the only one who couldn’t move on…”

Comforting the blonde with your shared emotions of the past handful of months, you relaxed yourself, the admission lifting the weight off your shoulders, no need for you to pretend you were okay without her.

Taking a deep breath in as Leah neared your proximity once more, your hands travelling up to her shoulders as hers found purchase on your hips, you chose to ignore the somersaults your stomach was doing at finally being in Leah’s arms after so long.

Closing your eyes, terrified of the response you were going to get, you quickly blurted out what you had been holding back.

“There’s a high chance, and by high I mean nearly 99% done, of me transferring to Arsenal for the upcoming season…”

Having spent the last year with Wolfsburg, your one year contract had expired after the end of the league, you choosing not to renew when your childhood club put in an offer.

Peeking an eye open to gauge Leah’s reaction, you couldn’t stop the smile that spread on your face as you saw her eyes shine with joy, a beaming grin on her face at your words.

“Don’t lie…please…”

Shaking your head, you internally melted at how hopeful the skipper looked.

“I promise I’m not.”

At your words, you saw as her smile grew again, Leah scooping you up into her arms to hug you tightly at the news- resentment be damned- the joy of having you near drowning out any and all negative sentiments in the blink of an eye.

Feeling her grin against the crook of your neck, you rested your face against her shoulder, sinking into the familiar feeling of being her arms, a feeling you missed terribly.

And as Leah pulled back, the twinkle in her eyes paralleling the brightest stars in the sky, you smiled shyly as she rested her forehead against yours, you both silently understanding what this meant for you and for her, for you both.

It wasn’t much, nothing resolved between the two of you, at least not yet- but it was something- a starting point.

Soft smiles on both of your faces, you let yourself be led out, following behind Leah, hands gently intertwined and a glimmer of hope in your hearts.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #my writing #fic #fic req #angst #fluff #isf

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reputayswift · 1 year

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“catastrophic blues, moving on was always easy for me to do, it hits different...it hits different 'cause it's you…”

literati x hits different ↬ requested by @onurownkidd (insp)

#my edit #literatigifs #usergif #literatiedit #ggedit #gilmore girls #gilmoregirlsedit #jess x rory #rory x jess #rory gilmore #jess mariano #midnights #taylor swift #flashing gif #otp: ernest only has lovely things to say about you

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opertabry · 10 months

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hits different - huh yunjin

it’s hits different cause it’s her

warnings : a curse word here and there

genre : angst with happy ending..?

wc : 638

it’s been months since you last saw yunjin, but you still wash your hands of her at the club. everyone could see, she made a mess of you. you kept on picturing her with other girls, in love. and you don’t know if the nausea was from the picture of her lips on someone else or the alcohol, then you threw up on the street. your friends having to drag you back home because you passed out on the side of the road.

her love was like waiting for a bus that never shows, so you just end up walking. you didn’t know if it was worth it, but they say if it’s right, you just know. and every bar you go to, they play your song. the song that you used to dance to, scream to in the car, the song that you listened to when you shared earphones. and you feel so wrong hearing it now without her.

“oh, my, love is a lie.” shit your friends say to get you by, but this was not like all your other breakups, it hits different this time. they used to be catastrophic blues, moving on was always easy for you to do. but now since its yunjin, it’s grey, emptiness, nothing. it hits different, cause it’s her.

you were barbie and you used to always switch out your kens so easily, you’d just ghost them when they fell and you’d rip off the bandaid to just run away with their hearts, like some asshole outlaw. freedom felt like summer on the coast then. but after loving her, freedom was winter, you and her all snuggled up at home, sharing a blanket, drinking hot chocolate and the union of lips. you thought freedom would be summer again, but the sun just burns your heart and the sand hurts your feelings.

you never didn’t cry at the bar, your sadness is contagious. and now you slur her name until someone puts you in a car. and you stopped getting invitations to anything, because all you were ever known to do was cry over yunjin.

“oh, my, love is a lie.” shit your friends say to comfort you. but it hits different, it hits different this time. cause it’s her. it’s huh yunjin, the girl you recklessly gave your heart to.

you find the artifacts, and as you delved deeper, you cried over a hat. the hat she always wore whenever you went on your late night connivence store runs. the artifacts that made up your relationship with her. you cursed the space that you needed, you regretted telling her that you needed a break. and as you hold the hat, you trace the evidence and try to make some sense of why your wound is still bleeding, even after so long. she was the one that you loved, you didn’t need another metaphor, it was simple enough. every wrinkle in time, the endless date ideas she had, was like a crease by her eyes.

you dream of her hair, the way she stared at you as if you put meaning into her life, her sense of belief in the good in the world. she once believed in you, you felt her and held her for a while. and as you wipe your tears and put down the hat, you hear a key turn in the door, down the hallway. was that her key in the door? is it her? or have they come to take you away?

“oh, my, love is a lie.” shit you say to ground yourself, she hits different this time. since she came back, yunjin felt it, the difference in the way you kiss her, how you melt into her embrace, how you hold her for a second longer than usual. your love hits different this time.

this one’s kinda bad but idk it made me happy in a way

#huh yunjin #yunjin #yunjin x reader #huh yunjin x reader #le sserafim #lesserafim #lesserafim x reader #gxg

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wineonmytshirt · 1 year

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Taylor Swift In Color

starting with Midnights first this time & going backward! 🌈🌈🌈 thanks for voting! 🌈🌈🌈

*if you don’t see a lyric you love, feel free to add it in the tags as long as u are nice🥰*

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andichoseyou · 9 months

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#taylor swift #lyrics #taylor swift poll #polls

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loveisbraveandwild · 1 year

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OH MY LOVE IS A LIE SHIT MY FRIENDS SAY TO GET ME BY IT HITS DIFFERENT IT HITS DIFFERENT THIS TIME CATASTROPHIC BLUES MOVING ON WAS ALWAYS EASY FOR ME TO DO IT HITS DIFFERENT IT HITS DIFFERENT CAUSE ITS YOU

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deliciouskeys · 4 months

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For @xieyaohuan because they were interested in something mentioned offhand about "the idea that as HL got older Vought tried to give him pleasant experiences to motivate him and prevent depression but that it was always in an isolated area, and away from any people who weren’t Vought employees."

It's not for @xieyaohuan because this fic probably outs me as a (former) baseball obsessive nerd, and is painfully American.

In any case...

Baseball is My Favorite Sport It's 1990. Homelander attends his first baseball game in a tiny minor league stadium, and Vogelbaum is a cold, cold man. Gen, in case that needs to be clarified D: Weird, like most of my bb HL content.

[ao3 link]

“Here we go... this is a nice spot, right here.” Vogelbaum sits down on an uncomfortable wooden bench seat and pats the spot beside him.

John looks around, stares, probably wondering why most people are trying to sit closer to home plate while they’re all the way out in right field, where there are hardly any people, but he doesn’t ask anything. He’s been exceedingly well behaved the entire four hour car ride to get to Utica, nose pressed to the window, watching the upstate New York countryside drift by. They could have chosen a venue closer to the City, but decided to play it safe. Vought wanted the boy exposed to crowds before he was going to be the subject of their attention. But this was also his first exposure to people who weren’t Vought employees. The crowd here is manageable, in the hundreds. If anything happened, they could probably cover it up in a small town like Utica. If they had gone to a game in Long Island, that probably wouldn’t be as easy and the margin for error would be very slim.

He glances back at the two Vought bodyguards who have seated themselves directly behind them. Insurance in case anything happens. Not that it’s clear how they could prevent anything catastrophic from happening if John somehow got out of control, but it’s good to have some backup. Vogelbaum thinks it’s ludicrous that they came in their usual black suits and sunglasses to sit in this tiny baseball stadium in an audience full of families with young children. They are far more conspicuous and out of place than John. In any case, Vogelbaum is the most important line of defense here to make sure the boy manages his first excursion into a public event.

“John, what rules did we agree on when you’re out here?”

The boy turns away from the field where the players are warming up to look at Vogelbaum earnestly. “Don’t move fast, don’t fly, don’t power up my eyes, don’t talk loudly,” he rattles off.

“That’s right. Just enjoy the game.”

“What if...” John hesitates. “In the movies sometimes a ball flies out of the field and then people can catch it. Can I move fast to do that, at least?”

“Absolutely not,” Vogelbaum cuts him off. “Don’t move out of your seat under any circumstances.”

John nods and folds his hands in his lap.

“Are these the best baseball players in the world?” he asks.

Vogelbaum can’t help but scoff. “No, John. This is A ball. These players are trying to get into the Big Leagues. Come on, you know the Blue Sox aren’t part of the American or National Leagues.”

John screws up his eyebrows, deep in thought. “Oh yeah. But they’re still pretty good right?”

“They’re okay I suppose. They still have double A and triple A ahead of them. Most of them will never make it to the Majors.”

John watches them warm up playing catch, and Vogelbaum can tell he’s scanning through the walls to look at the pitcher warming up in the bullpen.

“Which team are you a fan of?” John asks.

Vogelbaum grimaces. “I haven’t been to a game in ages. My father used to take me to Yankees games in the Bronx. They were an amazing team when I was a child. Not so much these days.”

“Do you take your children?” John asks and Vogelbaum’s body freezes. He’s tried to never mention his children anywhere near the lab building, but he supposes the other researchers might have blabbed something about him going home to his family. Or maybe it was because his wife sometimes insisted on calling him to ask when he’d be home in a passive aggressive tone. He’d never mention his children, but her voice through the receiver might have. And this boy can hear everything inside that building. Vogelbaum finds the idea of John knowing anything about his children intensely disconcerting. He breathes deeply to make sure his heart rate slows down.

“I do not. My daughters aren’t so interested.”

John beams. “Well, you can take me any time! Baseball is my favorite sport.”

Vogelbaum nods. “I’m well aware.” He always found Vought’s idea of what the boy’s hobbies should be gratingly on the nose.

“Do you think...” John pauses, as if sensing that he might get reprimanded for the question before even asking it. “Do you think I could become a baseball player when I’m old enough?”

“John. Come on now. You know baseball is an exclusion sport. They’re all about tradition. They haven’t let supes in yet, and seeing what happened to hockey, I don’t think they ever will.”

“But...” The boy looks upset for the first time that day. “You’re saying I wouldn’t be allowed to play even if I don’t use my powers?”

“Yes, even if you don’t use your powers. That’s a silly idea anyway. Would you hit the ball with one hundredth of the strength you actually have? Would you run the bases slowly? Besides, John, this game is beneath you. Everyone at Vought has such high hopes for you. You could do such interesting things with your life. This?” He gestures to the field. “It’s just a childish pastime.”

“But... isn’t it America’s favorite sport?”

“It certainly bills itself as that. But it’s just nostalgia. People longing for classic American sports before the first supes appeared in the 40s. It’s just sentimental.”

John looks back at him, still looking sad and perplexed. “You don’t like it?”

Vogelbaum realizes it’s strange to deride a sport they’re about to sit through seven innings of. “I like it just fine, but I don’t want you moping about not being allowed to play it. Let’s just enjoy watching.”

John seems mollified by that explanation and turns back to watch as the loudspeaker announces the beginning of the game. He seems to follow the game with interest. They’re sitting far enough away and to the side that the action isn’t very visible, but this child can see perfectly well at this distance.

“I can see catcher’s signs!” John announces, a little too proudly, and a little too loudly, so that a man sitting several empty rows in front of them with his two sons turns and looks at him. John seems oblivious, so Vogelbaum shushes him. John speaks in a more hushed tone. “He’s showing one finger for the pitcher to throw a fastball, and then the other ones are slower.”

“That’s right. I think the standard signs are two for a curve, three for a slider, and four for a changeup. And they’ll tilt their wrist to show which side of the plate they want it on.”

“Oh yeah,” John says, staring intently. Vogelbaum finds his eagerness to look through people’s bodies a little bit disconcerting, but he has resigned himself to the fact that John can look at anything he wants and there’s no good way to stop him from doing that.

“Now watch closely—if they get a runner on second, they’ll change the signs to a secret system they came up with beforehand.”

“Why?” John asks.

“Because with the runner on second, he can see the catcher’s hands, and he could whistle to the man up to bat.” Vogelbaum suddenly gets self-conscious. “I don’t know, it’s all pretty silly details.”

John doesn’t seem to think so and keeps watching the game raptly before he starts announcing the speed of the pitches. Vogelbaum hasn’t noticed too many superhuman mental powers show themselves in this child, except for these seemingly interrelated abilities to count quickly and estimate speeds and frequencies with surprising accuracy.

“76 miles an hour. That was a changeup. 90 miles an hour. That’s a fastball.”

“You see how slowly they throw? That’s as fast as they can lob it. You can throw, what, five, six times as fast as that? When you’re not even fully grown up. And you wanted to play with them?”

John shrugs, seemingly uncomfortable with the comparison and its implications and goes right back to announcing the pitches.

“84 miles an hour. Slider.”

The man in front of them turns around again. “Ha! Your kid almost sounds like he knows what he’s talking about and sees it all the way from over here.”

Vogelbaum nods woodenly. “Yes, he’s aspiring to be an announcer.” Then turning to John, he says much more quietly “Remember we agreed you’d keep your voice down? People here shouldn’t hear you.”

John nods and starts mumbling the pitches out very quietly. Vogelbaum is admittedly pleased that he makes himself busy with figuring out particulars, of course, but sometimes he worries this boy is growing up to be strange. He hopes it’s a phase where he just happens to get fixated on certain things easily.

The food vendors have been hovering where the majority of the sparse crowd is sitting but one finally makes his way over to their corner of the seats.

“Hot dogs! Get your hot dogs!” resonates across the many empty seats. The man in front of them motions the vendor over and starts buying some.

John is intensely interested. “Dr. Vogelbaum? May I please try one of those?”

Vogelbaum wearily motions the vendor over.

“Alright little man. How old are you?”

“N-nine.” John mumbles. Maybe he’s intimidated by the vendor using that brash theatrical voice.

“An excellent age! You want relish with this?”

John stares wide-eyed. “Wh- what’s... wh-”

“He doesn’t need relish,” Vogelbaum interrupts him. John has a strange verbal tic when he gets nervous. Vogelbaum won’t go so far as to call it an outright stutter because it comes and goes, but it’s probably time to hire a speech therapist to nip this problem in the bud. Before the higher-ups become aware of it. They’re banking on him being a good public speaker.

“Anything for you sir?” the vendor offers and Vogelbaum shakes his head, trying to keep disdain off his face. “You want some Crackerjack too, little slugger?”

John looks questioningly, then sees the box the man pulls out and, before Vogelbaum has the chance to protest, answers with an emphatic “Yes!”

Vogelbaum relents and pays for both items to avoid a scene, and scoffs when the bodyguards seated behind them also get hot dogs.

“This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted in my life!” John declares loudly, only muffled because his mouth still full of hot dog and bun. One of the men behind them snickers.

“We don’t talk with our mouth full,” Vogelbaum says. Then adds “I’m glad you like it.”

John finishes the hot dog but Vogelbaum tells him to wait before he starts on the Crackerjack. Instead of focusing on home plate, John seems to be watching the people sitting in front of them. The two boys have gotten bored and are shoving each other.

“May I talk to those kids?” John asks.

“Absolutely not. We’re here just to visit and to see if you can behave yourself.”

John saddens again. “I won’t do anything wrong. I won’t show them that I’m a super.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to talk to them,” Vogelbaum grumbles, eager to cut off any more arguments.

John suddenly gets even more discreet and whispers in his ear. “Why are they shoving each other?”

“They’re siblings. Brothers will roughhouse like that.”

John stares at them. “Will I ever have a brother?”

Vogelbaum sighs and tries not to visibly roll his eyes. “No, John. You’re one of a kind. And not everyone has a brother. I was an only child growing up as well.”

John looks up at him and nods.

“Now why don’t you pay attention to the game instead.”

“I am. It’s bottom of the fourth, two outs, man on first.” The batter grounds out and the fielders start jogging toward the dugout. “And now it’s top of the fifth.” Now it’s John who’s rolling his eyes.

“Alright, I stand corrected. You were paying attention. But don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“Sorry,” John says, and he’s still a little morose, so Vogelbaum relents and hands over the box of Crackerjack.

“Hey there’s something in there!” John says, peering at the box, shaking it.

“Why don’t you open it instead of looking through it. I think those come with a little prize or something,” Vogelbaum says wearily. Thank god the Minors only play seven innings. He’s getting tired. It’s sad to admit but he never really finds a common language with children. John is, by most counts, a singularly interesting child and precocious in many ways, but Vogelbaum still finds it hard to be patient when he gets excited over small, inconsequential things.

“It’s a whistle!” John says.

“Don’t blow it loudly,” Vogelbaum warns.

John puts the whistle in his mouth and blows into it very quietly even as he’s watching the game. The player at bat suddenly hits a homerun and John springs up, excited. Vogelbaum is already worried that he’ll do something stupid and take off into the air and reveal himself, but instead John slumps back down into the seat, spitting out the whistle that he crushed to pieces with his teeth.

“I broke it,” he says despondently.

“It’s alright,” Vogelbaum says in the most reassuring tone he can muster. “You get excited and you forget your strength. At least it was just a toy.”

John’s staring at the pieces of cheap plastic in his hands.

“Just throw it on the floor,” Vogelbaum says.

John looks at him questioningly.

“It’s a stadium. People throw peanut shells on the floor. They’ll come by to clean it up.”

John tilts his hands and lets the broken pieces fall on the floor, apparently still in disbelief that he’s allowed to litter. Vogelbaum realizes that he should clarify.

“You’re right. In most places you shouldn’t throw trash on the ground. This is an exception.”

John seems satisfied by that explanation and starts on the Crackerjack, with a small shudder and grimace when he first tastes it. “Wow, it’s very sweet!”

Vogelbaum dreads the sugar rush the boy might have on the drive back to Long Island. Eight hours on the road in total, all just to prepare this child for being among people in a safe venue.

“Dr. Vogelbaum?”

“Yes, what is it.”

“This is the best day I’ve ever had. Thank you so much for taking me outside to see this game!”

Vogelbaum can tell John wants to hug him, but they haven’t done so in years, and Vogelbaum’s body language remains closed off to dissuade him. But he does smile. “I’m glad, John. I’m glad to see you’re having fun.”

“Maybe we could go again?” he asks, but looks back down at the Crackerjack box when he receives no response.

#bb homelander #homelander #vogelbaum #the boys #the boys tv #mystuff #fic

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foxes-that-run · 4 months

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do you think Hits Different is haylor coded?

Hi, to me it is, though I think it is ambiguous as I think Taylor's feelings might have been. Aaron indicated it was an earlier song on Midnights. It was possibly written not very long after Renegade.

Timeline

Aaron mentioned it as one of the songs they wrote together, he mentioned it when saying they wrote High Infidelity in L.A. after Taylor saw Harry at the 2021 Grammy's. He mentioned The Great War also. (31 mins in Broken Record podcast)

I guess this somewhat depends on one's view of the Joever timeline and the Haylor aspects of Folklore. At that time Harry wrote As it was and LOML which are about moving on and there was a lot of reporting around OW.

Video

In this pretty unsettling short she wore an Opal, Taylor's worn Opals since 2014 including the Cardigan video and says 'Opal eyes' in Ivy.

Lyrics

I washed my hands of us at the club You made a mess of me I pictured you with other girls in love Then threw up on the street Like waiting for a bus that never shows You just start walkin' on They say that if it's right, you know Each bar plays our song Nothing has ever felt so wrong

Taylor has been a mess in:

All You Had To Do Was Stay: I’ve been picking up the pieces of the mess you made

Dancing With Our Hands Tied: I’m a mess but I’m the mess that you wanted

Illicit Affairs: Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

Also the only other bus lyric is The 1: I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn’t, though.

Bars feature a lot on Reputation, so many associate them with Joe, (who she started dating after a lot of the album was recorded.) however to me most of those songs are Haylor.

Oh my, love is a lie Shit my friends say to get me by It hits different It hits different this time Catastrophic blues Movin' on was always easy for me to do It hits different It hits different 'cause it's you ('Cause it's you)

The Catastrophic blues, to me are most similar to Peace: "If your cascade ocean wave blues come." but I hear the lyric as Taylor is depressed.

'Movin' on was always easy for me to do' indicates Harry to me because, he is someone she hasn't been able to move on from because of the cyclical nature of it:

End Game "We tried to forget it, but we just couldn't" and "And I can't let you go, your handprint's on my soul"

DBATC: "Chandelier's still flickering here / 'Cause I can't pretend it's ok when it's not"

I used to switch out these Kens, I'd just ghost Rip the Band-Aid off and skip town like an asshole outlaw Freedom felt like summer then on the coast Now the sun burns my heart and the sand hurts my feelings And I never don't cry (no, I never don't cry) at the bar Yeah, my sadness is contagious (my sadness is contagious) I slur your name 'til someone puts me in a car I stopped receiving invitations

Taylor has also described Harry is irreplaceable, not a switchable Ken:

Question..?:"Cause I don't remember who I was / Before you painted all my nights / A color I've searched for since" and "Does it feel like everything's just like / Second best after that meteor strike

Ready for it: "And he can be my jailer, Burton to this Taylor / Every lover known in comparison is a failure"

Gold Rush: "And the coastal town / We wandered 'round had never / Seen a love as pure as it"

Finally the drunk, slurred name lyrics, (hard to slur Joe), and

Cruel Summer: I’m drunk in the back of the car and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar

Death By A Thousand Cuts: I get drunk but it’s not enough ‘cause the morning comes and you’re not my baby

I find the artifacts, cried over a hat Cursed the space that I needed I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' You were the one that I loved Don't need another metaphor, it's simple enough A wrinkle in time like the crease by your eyes This is why they shouldn't kill off the main guy Dreams of your hair and your stare and sense of belief In the good in the world, you once believed in me And I felt you and I held you for a while Bet I could still melt your world Argumentative, antithetical dream girl

Joe's worn a few baseball caps, though Taylor has also referenced Harry's hats before. In early interviews Niall said he wore them to hide his hair in public, so he wears them a lot. Including this green beanie in the 22 MV.

Bleeding is a Haylor Theme

Trace the evidence / Wrinkle in time reminds me of Right where you left me, "They expected me to find somewhere / Some perspective, but I sat and stared"

Hair, Stare and Sense of belief describe Harry well:

Hair (Style: long hair, Shake it off: hella good hair, Gold Rush: Hair falling into place)

Stare (Style: daydream look in your eye, Delicate: look into your eyes, Exile: eyes add insult to injury, Gold Rush: Twinkling eyes)

Harry has a belief in the good in the world, Joe may too, we don't really know him.

Finally the Argumentative, antithetical dream girl - reminds me of Gold Rush "At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit". Harry describes Taylor in Sweet Creature "It's hard when we argue We're both stubborn, I know" Kiwi "Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect" and Woman "I told you, but I know you never listen."

I heard your key turn in the door down the hallway Is that your key in the door? Is it okay? Is it you? Or have they come to take me away? To take me away

Finally, hallways and doors both feature a lot in Haylor songs, here the muse has a key. I guess this also depends on a perspective of the pandemic time, I don't find it a stretch to think H had a key to Taylors home. As far as I wonder if she even has a literal key anymore...

Have they come to take me away reminds me of:

Wonderland: And in the end in Wonderland, we both went mad

Say Don’t Go: The waiting is a sadness fading into madness

Don’t Blame Me: "For you I would cross the line, I would waste my time, I would lose my mind" and "Don’t blame me, love made me crazy"

I Wish You Would: This mad, mad love makes you come running

Blank Space: Magic, madness, heaven, sin

#haylor #midnights #taylor swift

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