Fresh Out The Slammer - Tumblr Posts
you guys, when are we going to talk about the parallel between “this album is a love letter to love itself — all the captivating, spellbinding, maddening, devastating red, blue, gray, golden aspects of it” in the lover prologue and “gray and blue and fights and tunnels / handcuffed to the spell i was under / for just one hour of sunshine / years of labor, locks, and ceilings / in the shade of how he was feeling” in fresh out the slammer
The “making forts under covers” to “another summer taking cover, rolling thunder” pipeline
reblog and put your top 5 from ttpd+anthology in the tags
swifties of tumblr reblog and put in the tags your TTPD top 5
TTPD is about IWTV
(Part Four)
This is a thread connecting Anne Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles to Taylor Swift’s most recent album, The Tortured Poet’s Department. Part One will be linked at the bottom, if you want to start from the beginning.
7.) Fresh Out The Slammer
Feeling imprisoned in your relationship? Caged with a companion? Trapped for eternity with the object of your resentment? Taylor, are you an Anne Rice stan bc this is getting suspicious…
Pretty much all of the TVC characters have probably felt like they were “breaking free” of someone at some point in this series. These bitches be coming and going like nobody’s business.
Let’s focus on Louis leaving Armand to go back to Lestat. For as much as Louis felt confined by Lestat in their relationship, I have to imagine that his relationship with Armand felt tenfold more controlling and wing-clipping, in the grand scheme of things.
“Now, pretty baby, I’m runnin back home to you”
“Frеsh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to”
“To the house where you still wait up and that porch light gleams”
(I couldn’t find a better quote for this, but: LESTAT WENT BACK TO THE PLACE THEY SHARED IN NEW ORLEANS!!! Waiting up for Louis, mayhaps? Daniel is mentioned in the excerpt bc this snippet is from his POV. It’s taken from QotD when Daniel went looking for Lestat.)
“As I said in my letters, now that I know better, I will never lose my baby again”
8.) Florida!!!
I mean, Armand’s private resort in Miami? I’m not the only one getting Night Island vibes, right?
This song is a metaphor about Florida being an escape, a solace, a drug. That’s exactly how I imagine Armand and the other vampires feel about the Night Island.
“Florida is one hell of a drug”
“You can beat the heat if you beat the charges too”
“No one asks any questions here”
“I need to forget, so take me to Florida”
“Florida, can I use you up?”
“What a crash, what a rush, fuck me up, Florida”
“I've got some regrets, I'll bury them in Florida”
“Tell me I'm despicable, say it's unforgivable, At least the dolls are beautiful”
Part One: https://www.tumblr.com/funtheysaid/749134183115456512/ttpd-is-about-iwtv
Part Five: https://www.tumblr.com/funtheysaid/749135175926136832/ttpd-is-about-iwtv
FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER
❝︎ i know who my first call will be too ❞︎
pairing | teen!dean winchester x fem!reader
content | fluff, angst, mentions of a fight, mentions of john being a dick (you can’t make me like him)
summary | dean calls you after he gets into a fight at a frat party down the road
THE PARK was so quiet you could almost imagine it was abandoned like the old house on the corner. The one all the kids stayed away from, only stepping foot on the porch against a dare their dumbass friends had made. A flickering light, similar to a shining star lighting the path of the short sidewalk to the tiny playground; the park was empty. Only the faint outline of someone sitting atop the play area could be seen.
“Hey,” you called out to him quietly. His shoulders tensed, his head turning quickly before his body had relaxed again when he noticed it was just you. His shoulders weren’t so broad anymore, his head dropping down before you heard the quiet exhale leave his nose. “Sorry,” an apology spilled softly from your lips. Apologetic for scaring him, but relieved that he was at least relatively okay.
The phone you had gotten not even an hour before had you on the verge of a panic attack until you had actually seen him.
“You alright?”
“Can you meet me somewhere?” He had asked so brokenly that you were scared that if you didn’t agree, he was going to crack in half like an old porcelain vase sitting atop the tallest shelf in your grandma’s china cabinet. “I ne…just — please?”
He hadn’t left you with much of an option. It hadn’t sounded as if he was about to jump off the deep end if you hadn’t shown.
“It’s alright,” he muttered, scared that if he talked any louder his voice would fail him. He was already on edge for having to call you this late, guilty that you had actually shown, but mostly, he wanted to avoid the emotions that were climbing up the back of his throat. If it had clawed at his throat any longer, they would crash and he’d be in the middle of a breakdown.
“You alright?” Your head was tilted to the side curiously, shoes digging into the wood chips beneath you. He was sat atop the jungle gym, his feet dangling into the night as his head rested against the cool metal rail guard beside him. Cooling any angry emotions he might’ve been feeling.
He finally lifted his head up, that’s when you could finally see the small stream of crimson trailing down his face.
“What happened?” You pointed to your own eyebrow, watching as he gingerly touched his own before staring at his blood coated fingers as if he had no clue it was even there.
“It’s, uh…” he was going to deny it being a big deal, just like he always did when something happened. “Fight.” He gave in.
It had shocked you if you were honest, that he had actually said it. Usually he had blamed it on slipping in the shower, but he could only use that excuse so many times before it got suspicious, and after the second time…you were more than suspicious.
“What happened? Frat party down the road?” You questioned, starting your climb up the jungle gym to sit behind him when he failed to answer. “Heard the cops got called, shut it down.” You settled in beside him finally, staring at the sky above you as the clouds threatened to cover the small stars.
“You weren’t even there,” he let slip past a quiet mumble.
“Might’ve been,” you shrugged innocently. “But now that I know you were looking for me —“
“Shut up,” he stopped you before you could get ahead.
He tried to hide it, but you could see the way the corner of his lips turned, the dull moonlight accentuating the way his cheeks fought off a smile. Your own laughter tumbled past your lips as you let your feet kick out in front of you.
This was a weekly occurrence it seemed. An empty park, the two of you sitting on a different part, the silence. You could’ve just talked about anything and everything and he would just sit there and listen. Whether it was willingly or not, he certainly never left. There were nights where he would talk until the sun came up. Some new story about his little brother, mostly his little brother annoying him, but sometimes there was a good story. You liked those ones. The ones where Dean had gone on and on about how his brother was just being a kid.
It was funny to think about it now, because now even a few years ago, that was the two of you. Just being kids. He was complaining about stuff the two of you had always done when you were Sammy’s age. Be annoying, play in the first, it was silly stuff that a kid is supposed to do and for a teenager to find annoying.
“You going home after this?” You didn’t want to ask the question, but you needed to make sure he still had a place to go. Finally, you dragged your eyes away from the constellation you had managed to make out to look over at Dean. His tired face looked even more relaxed than it had when you first showed up.
“Have too,” he answered quietly. “Can’t leave Sam there.”
“And what’s your dad gonna say?” You questioned, referring to his eye as he just shrugged his shoulders this time.
“Whatever the hell he wants,” he took a deep breath, trying to not think about what new string of swears his father could possibly throw at him.
There was always a place for Dean at your house, it was just taking so much to convince him that it was actually true. It was a mental block he had, you could always tell. The pressure that his dad put on him was ridiculous. You genuinely had no idea how he even functioned on a day to day basis. He had his moments where that wall crumbled, he let you see past the cracks just for a night before they were built back up again.
“You ever need anything, just call, Dean. You know that,” you broke the silence again.
“You’re always my first call,”’ he whispered.
fresh out the slammer i know who my first call will be to...(me myself and i)
i dont i want to run into anyone's arms as much as i want to run into my arms. shes always been there. waiting patiently for us to let us out the slammers, to release myself from the personal hell that ive locked myself in. No ones wanted me to stop punishing me like her. No ones wanted peace for me like her
FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER IS ABOUT ICEMAV!
I REPEAT:
FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER IS ABOUT ICEMAV!
"Now, pretty baby, I'm runnin' back home to you. Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to."
HELLO?
That is literally Maverick going back home to Ice after he and Charlie finally break up.
If you have Spotify reblog this and tag what your number one song on your “on repeat” playlist is.