#nick came and the bad seeds

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

In This Heart Mix Tape: Side A 

Two souls, forever bound in the multiverse. (Tommy Shelby x OFC! Estella Holland)

In This Heart by Sinéad O’Connor 

Red Right Hand by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

Sparkling Diamonds - From “Moulin Rouge” by Nicole Kidman

Work Song by Hozier

Why Don’t You Do Right? by Amy Irving and Charles Fleischer

One Day I’ll Fly Away - Acoustic by Vaults

I Wanna Be Loved By You by Annette Hanshaw

Merrily Kissed The Quaker by Planxty

Cheek To Cheek by Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong

Dog Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine

Morrison’s Jig by Orthodox Celts

He Moved Through the Fair by Sinéad O’Connor

Swan Upon Leda by Hozier

An Irish Party in Third Class by Gaelic Storm

Brigg Fair by Jackie Oates 

The Wind That Shakes the Barley by Dead Can Dance

Return to Me by October Project

I Know You Know Me by Caroline Spence and Matt Berninger

Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine

I Am a Poor Wayfaring Stranger by Joe Slovick

Nostalgia - Wallander Version by Emily Barker and The Red Clay Halo

The Only Exception by Paramore

Take Me to Church by Hozier

Queen Of Peace by Florence + The Machine

[tagmusicblog]

does anyone have any solid info on who Bunny was in nick's life? not bunny monroe, the girlfriend (?) he had while spiralling in berlin. ive see her referenced quite a few times (tho very very fleetingly) by those around him at the time, but every search just throws up bunny monroe articles 😭

[thecolorsfucked]

and the walls ran red around me

a warm arterial spray

[luvs4matt]

— 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭 ꨄ 𝐌.𝐒

“please, please let me suck your tits, please, i’ll make you feel good i swear please”

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - sub!matt x dom!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - matt being a brat all day towards his girlfriend leads to him being punished.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - swearing, slight angst, smut, oral (m), handjob, p in v, cream pie, squirting, overstimulation, mommy kink (if you squint), orgasm denial, unprotected sex, after care, no use of y/n

divider by @bunnysrph

with love and stems, cherry ღღ

an absolute fucking brat, he left to film with nick and chris a little over an hour ago, which means he should be home soon.

you decided to take a shower to relieve any tension from today, as you were rinsing the soap off of your body you heard you and matts shared bedroom door close.

he was home.

when you stepped out of the shower you wrapped yourself in a towel and walk back into the bedroom to see matt laying on the bed, “hey” hoping he will respond back to you so hopefully you don’t go to bed pissed at each other.

he didn’t respond. you try to ignore it as you continue to put on your panties and oversized shirt but when you sat on the bed with him and asked “when did you get home” and all you get in response was a eye roll you couldn’t hold your anger back anymore.

“matt what the fuck is up with you today, you have been being a brat all day, cut the shit, what happened for you to act like this?”

“i haven’t been being a brat, i just don’t want to fucking talk, or maybe i just need a break, fuck i hate you sometimes” as he was talking his shirt had rolled up which made you spot his raging erection poking through his grey sweats.

“or maybe you just want to get fucked” you say in a low tone as you move your position to straddle his waist, “what” he chokes out.

you start to palm his erection over his clothing causing him to let out a whimper “if you wanted to be fucked so bad you could have said something” you slowly start to kiss his jaw line moving down to his neck sucking and biting on all of his sweet spots.

“please” he whimpers “what baby” you mumble into his neck continuing to leave marks on his flesh, “no teasing” after how he acted today you were definitely going to tease him.

stopping your work on his skin “oh baby after everything today you deserve the teasing” you lean into his ear “you don’t even deserve to cum” he lets out a mewl at your words.

you start to unzip his pants, he lifts his hips to help you pull them down along with his boxers, his cock slapping against his shirt that you quickly ended up taking off making him completely naked under you.

perfect.

“p-please let me cum this time please” you had edged him 4 times in a row “aww baby you think you have been good enough to cum” he immediately replies with a loud moan “i need words” “y-yes yes yes, i-i have b-been so good i learned my lesson please just let me cum” he rushes.

you feel his dick twitch in your hand “cum baby” immediately after you gave him permission he came.

long white spurts of cum coming out of his slit, he quickly jolted his hips up into your hand as you lay your palm on his tip rubbing quick circular motions “fuck” he groans.

“remember all that shit you were talking, saying you hate me” you start moving your hand faster on his tip overstimulating him “ i do fucking hate you” he laughs.

“yeah?” you question “ye- FUCK oh my god” before he could give you a proper reply you remove your palm from his cock and quickly replace it with your mouth.

“i’m gonna cum” he whimpers, you respond by taking every inch of him in your mouth making him quickly shoot his seed in the back of your throat.

you were soaked with him under you, you take off your shirt, then your panties, he was staring at your body in awe “you like looking baby?” you asked as you straddle his lap once again, he shakes his head yes, he wont admit it but even though he was extremely sensitive he was already hard from staring at your tits.

“please” you know what he wants based on the fact his eyes were stuck on your nipples “please what baby, what do u want” softly grinding on his cock as you tease him with your words only makes him whine under you.

“please, please let me suck your tits, please, i’ll make you feel good i swear please” the way he moans while he begs made you crave his mouth on the soft flesh “go ahead baby”

he immediately attaches his mouth to your nipple sucking and biting making you throw your head pleasure, you could feel his growing erection under your pussy as you were still grinding down onto him.

he removes his mouth from your nipple when you lift up to line his sensitive cock up with your soaked hole slowly sinking down on it making both of you moan.

you immediately started bouncing up and down on him “please mo-baby i’m so sensitive” he begs even though it felt so good.

you knew what he was going to say “please who?” “m-mommy” he whimpers out “you know your word if u need me to stop”

“i-i’m gonna c- fuck c-cum” he stutters “its only been a couple minutes, you gonna cum quick baby boy” he cant help but moan at your words.

he spills his seed inside of your tight cunt, but you kept moving you were chasing your own high, you both try to kiss but all you can do is have your mouth hang open with moans and whimpers coming out you guys stayed like that for multiple minutes being overwhelmed by pleasure.

“i’m gonna cum mommy” he moans “me to baby” matts grip on your waist tightens as your movements become uneven and faster you were so close.

matt lets out a loud moan as he releases inside of you for the second time tonight, but this time it sets something off in you, your juices fly out of your hole squirting everywhere.

once you both ride out your highs you slowly lift yourself off of him and walk out of the room walking back with a wet cloth cleaning both of you up.

after your both settled in bed cuddling you asked him “i didn’t hurt you did i” looking up at him “god no” he laughs making you laugh as well.

“you know i don’t hate you right?” he looks like he feels bad about saying it “i know” you smile at him before you both fell asleep.

chris and nick did infact yell at them about it the next morning.

© luvs4matt

a/n - this is my first fic so don’t judge or i will infact wear shoes on your brand new white bed sheets 😁.

[mrs-snape5984]

“I was held in chains but now I’m free…”

“Hey, little train! Wait for me! I once was blind but now I see. Have you left a seat for me? Is that such a stretch of the imagination?” (“O Children” by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds)

I feel obligated to set up a trigger warning on this post, since I’m mentioning thoughts of suicidal ideation in my text. If you’re feeling uncomfortable with this topic, please feel free to ignore the following four paragraphs and skip right to my praise for the incredibly talented artist of this comic strip.

As already mentioned in some of my latest posts, I’ve commissioned some of my favourite artists here on tumblr for a special project of mine: My afterlife project.

I’m suffering from multiple autoimmune disorders, which probably have paved the way for this bitch of a disease, ME/CFS (myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome), two years ago. Sure, my life already wasn’t the easiest before, but since then, it came to a standstill. More and more, I lost my abilities, my social life, my place in the society…and surely even my participation in my own family. My days are mostly spent in bed all day and night, surrounded only by darkness and solitude.

Patients with severe ME/CFS might die earlier than expected, due to multiple organ failure and - yes, I have to admit, that this reason is, indeed, undeniably relatable (and alluring) to me - suicide. With each passing day, that I’m doomed to “live” with these confines of my personal hell… imprisoned within myself without any chance to escape… death appears to be a welcoming friend, who’s only awaiting to pull me into a tight embrace. For me, it’s like it’s written in the following poem (“Joy in Death”) of Emily Dickinson…it will be good news and maybe even a relief…not just for me.

I know, I can’t leave, yet… and that I have to stay as long as endurable - at least for my children’s sake - but… yeah, BUT… but, damn, I’m tired. My personal limits are set… my lines are drawn… my responsibilities are cleared and both of my closest friends are informed about my pathetic little wishes (please, play that goddamn song for me!). I’m prepared. But for now, I have to stay…. to fight a little longer… to be a mom, even though my kids only see me for a few minutes each day… a mere shadow of the mother, they used to know. It’s a fucking shame!

For this particular part of my afterlife project, I’ve commissioned my sweet friend @sleepybradipo, who will always be my first choice to draw my vision of the young Severus in his own uniquely tender art style, which I’m so weak for.

In my imagination, I will be able to choose, how my eternal life will look like. Finally, I’ll be with Severus! We’ll meet at the age of 11 years and eventually spend the rest of our lives side by side...growing old together. Severus and Jukes will finally get the life, they’ve always deserved to have. I’ve started to show sections of this existence by Severus’ side in some of my other posts, which belong to this project. It may sound strange and pathetic (obviously), but this is all, that I'm wishing for. I want to come home to him.

For this artwork, I asked @sleepybradipo to make the process of “renewing” visible…almost like some kind of resurrection! Jules is stripping off her old, exhausted self, only to be 11 years old again…happily running towards the 11 years old Severus, who’s waiting for her.

Ivano, at first, I felt guilty for my request for this commission. I’m constantly afraid of becoming a burden to others with my ridiculously morbid thoughts and ideas. But you, my dear friend, made me feel seen with your kindness and compassion. Your understanding of my fantasy and the way, you’ve realised it in this mesmerising piece of art, are absolutely breathtaking! I don’t know, how I could possibly show enough gratitude to express, what your art is doing to my black little heart. It’s like a bandage…a soothing balm… a comforting embrace. Thank you for everything, Ivano.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

PS: I have to apologise for my repetive use of terms in my writing this time. The lack of coherence might be caused by my current “crashing” condition and a weird cocktail of different medications. I’ll try better next time, but it was important for me, to show this heart-wrenching composition of art as soon as possible. Your work needs to be seen, Ivano!

[emeritusemeritus]

Hey Little Train 3 [Fred Weasley x Reader]

Series Masterlist

Title: Hey Little Train 3/5 (5 part mini series)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader {Established Relationship/ Engaged}

Timeline: Set immediately after the war up to 4 years later.

Summary: The memoirs of a broken woman after the death of her beloved.

Warnings: SAD FIC. This one will hurt. Mentions of death, grief, depression, suidical thoughts. Suicide. Loss and pain, a lot of crying. Smut, sexual references, graphic sex. Dreams. Female reader.

Word count: 1.5k

Heavily inspired by Nick Cave & the bad seeds’ ‘O Children’, the unofficial song of Harry Potter.

Hey, little train! Wait for me!

I once was blind but now I see

Have you left a seat for me?

Is that such a stretch of the imagination?

The days following Fred's death were spent in sheer torment, and endless cycle of pain that did not relent. The days bled into weeks and the weeks into months with little let up on the sheer agony you faced every moment of every day. Nothing could calm you, nothing could pull you out of your sorrowful reverie, your entire being consumed by the excruciating pain you were forced to endure.

The months began to bleed into years and there was little improvement in your healing, though you pretended to all others that there was. A year after Fred's death, after the anniversary of the battle of hogwarts, the dreaded date that made you sick at the very thought, you realised that you couldn't do this forever. It didn't change anything, your new perspective, except that it gave others hope for you. It made others feel better about themselves to see you coming back to life, to see that you were strong and brave, to power on without him.

It couldn't be more wrong. You lived a lie. You wore a mask every time you were out of the house, pretending to be a human again. You smiled, conversed even sometimes laughed, though it was hollow and fictitious- not that anyone ever seemed to notice.

You went out again with your friends, rekindling what had been lost in the spoils of war and you conversed excitedly, learning about their lives and how they were progressing, skirting the more invasive questions that were asked of you and performing your well rehearsed lines with perfect timing and cadence to assure them that you were doing okay.

You were far from okay. The second you'd slip away, returning to the hollow little flat you never called home, you were back to your sombre self, devoid of all laughter or hope. You weren't a psychopath, you didn't have multiple personalities nor a impulsive need to pretend- you were simply a broken person trapped in the past, unable to move past the point that your life fell apart.

You rarely cried now, except for the really hard days and instead seemed to exist in a state of limbo and pretence that left you perpetually exhausted.

George had caught you off guard one day when he came into your workplace, asking you to meet him for a drink after your shift. You couldn't say no, not to him. He caught you off guard once again, later that evening, when he told you he was getting married. Angelina Johnson, your friend right from childhood, was going to be Angelina Weasley.

You knew they were dating of course, at least you think you did. She'd told you excitedly of them getting together one night and George had been continuous with the excited details of their progressing relationship. You were happy for them, truthfully, honestly somewhere deep down you felt happy that they found each other but you were ripe with jealously. Not with her, but with the world. You'd been nicknamed Mrs Weasley since your fifth or sixth year at school, been in love with the same boy since you were 12 and were so, so close to starting your life together as a married couple. The ring on your finger, the one that was never removed, seemed like a lead weight upon you now. You'd never be Mrs Weasley, never be a Mrs at all, but someone else would.

Right from the off you could tell their wedding was to be a fanciful affair, with Angelina's parents footing the bill for their only daughter's wedding that seemed timeless and classic, if not slightly over the top. But they seemed happy.

You put a smile on your face, carried the flowers dutifully in your hand as you walked down the aisle in procession with the rest of the bridesmaids, trying desperately not to look at George, not wanting to even get the notion that it could be Fred stood there awaiting you. As you stood by Angelina's side with a dutiful smile, you couldn't help but look out at the guests sat in the arranged seats once the officiant began. Yourself and Ginny had been bridesmaids, with Ron being George's best man, but all the other Weasleys and their partners were grouped together in the rows of people, looking in awe at the couple. Molly and Arthur looked as proud as could be, Molly with tears in her eyes as she watched George say his vows.

You felt your heart stop when you noticed the empty seat on the front row with a single photo frame placed upon it and a single sign: reserved for Fred Weasley. You did everything you could not to react, holding in the violent sob that needed to break free. Your breathing quickened and you did everything you could to remain nonchalant about the heartbreaking scene before you, clutching your flowers with such a hard grip that you could feel the uncut thorns from the roses begin to dig into your fingertip. You pressed in deeper, feeling a catharsis in the pain of the thorn, as if the physical pain balanced the emotional pain you faced. You could feel your finger begin to bleed but you still didn't stop, ensuring instead that no blood dripped from your finger onto your silk dress, keeping the wound tightly pressed to the little sash that was providing almost no protection from the thorns.

The sight of the empty seat threatened to unveil you, to undo all the hard work you'd put in to act as perfectly normal as possible. It broke you from the inside out, mostly for George and that the most special day of his life would always be tainted by the loss of his other half, the inbuilt best man from birth.

You brushed it off, fighting to regain your composure and cursed yourself to not look at the photo upon the chair even one more time.

The speeches and the dinner had been almost too much for you to bear, every passing minute feeling excruciating as you sat beside your friends but still entirely alone, feeling like that singular empty chair had followed you around for the rest of the day, the empty void. You'd survived but only barely.

The second you walked into your apartment, you collapsed against the closed wooden door and sobbed with anguished cries until you felt lightheaded and voice became hoarse. You ripped away the bridesmaid dress from your body and climbed into bed desperately gripping one of Fred's knitted jumpers and cried evermore. You wanted to claw at your skin with the anguish, to claw your way out of your human form and somehow rid yourself of the pain. You wanted to wash away the horrors of the day but you were too exhausted to shower, too sinful to absolve yourself of any of the pain.

You pictured Angelina waking up the next morning with the shiny new ring on her finger and her new husband beside her, giggling at her new title still in disbelief it had all happened. You dreamed of that with Fred, had dreamt of that since he first mentioned marriage all those years ago, unashamedly announcing that he was going to marry you after you'd bender the truth to get him and George out of trouble. From that initial joke came a running joke in your relationship that he would marry you, though it wasn't a joke at all, you knew he was dead serious. He'd say it as an act of love, an expression that meant more to him than those three words and when drunk, he'd proudly tell anyone willing to hear that it was a fact.

But it would never be, not now. No longer did you dream of that morning that you'd wake up and be legally bound both body and soul to Fred Weasley, because he didn't exist anymore- and neither did you, not really.

You looked down at the glittering ring on your left hand, seeing it shine against the golden threads of Fred's green jumper and briefly considered for the first time in years to take it off. Would the removal of the ring free you from your purgatory, from the promise you'd made to a dead man that gifted away your happiness with him? The very thought filled you with shame, your stomach roiling at the very thought of giving up on him like that, even if his side of the promise could never be fulfilled, you'd be damned if you broke the unspoken vow to him.

Instead you kept the ring on and kept your promise entirely, the promise to be his for eternity, in life and in death.

[goldencherriess]

Soulmates.

Masterlist || Main masterlist

Pairing: Young! Remus Lupin x McKinnon! Fem! Reader

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: Y/N McKinnon and Remus Lupin are the definition of soulmates. Best friends since forever, they know each other to the smallest detail. But a Wizarding War threatens to tear them apart.

Warnings: canon-compliant, major character death (oops!), angst, fluff, best friends to lovers, love confessions, soft eyes, lots of hand holding, Jily

"What's a soulmate?"

"It's, uh, well it's like a best friend but more."

Y/N McKinnon was a soft soul. Remus knew this much, from the twinkle in her eyes to the shy smile on her lips. He knew that she was quieter than her sister, Marlene, but was never afraid to voice her beliefs. He knew that she liked to read classics, burrowing them from him. She always returned them as though they hadn't even been read feverishly. And he also knew that she was a lover of jasmine tea and of stars. 

And she was also his best friend. 

“Do they end up together?” she asked one morning as she sat beside him in The Great Hall. 

Remus frowned. “Who?” he replied, putting down the still steaming cup of tea on which he was sipping. The sweet aroma of jasmine still lingered on his tongue. Her tastes were rubbing off on him.

Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes as she did so and thrusting a book in front of his eyes. Curved, intricate letters spelled Little women. “Jo and Laurie.”

A crooked smile blossomed on his lips. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“No,” she said, as she turned to put some toast on her plate along with a few eggs. 

Comfortable silence settled between them as Remus resumed enjoying his tea. 

“I think they should,” she eventually voiced, after biting down on a toast.

“What?”

“Jo and Laurie. I think they should end up together. They’re best friends.”

Remus’ throat tightened and it seemed as though the world stopped moving. Best friends. He told himself that he shouldn’t read too much into it, they were just discussing a piece of literature, but then Sirius’ voice popped up in his head (“You’re really thick, Moony. She fancies you!”) and he was suddenly hyper aware of his thigh touching hers, and of his elbow touching hers and he slid away a few millimeters just to breathe. “Right,” he croaked out. 

Maybe Sirius was right after all. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“It’s the one person in the world who knows you better than anyone else.”

Y/N could tell from the wrinkles in his eyebrows and the dark circles under his eyes that Remus didn’t sleep the night before. It was often that she found him in this state, staring blankly at the flames dancing in the fireplace of the Gryffindor Common Room. She never questioned him, she figured that if he ever felt the need to support his weight he’d come to her, letting his tears fall onto her shoulders. 

She was patient, sitting beside him on the couch and watching his chest rise and fall with every breath he took. She counted them, listening in to his breathing and to the crackling of the fire. 

At the tenth one, he spoke up, his voice resembling that of a broken glass. “I’m sorry.”

Y/N let her eyes roam across his side of the face. There were a few new scars slashing across the freckles. “What for?” she replied quietly. 

Remus’ shoulders slacked. He opened his mouth to reply but no word came out. 

“You don’t have to say anything. I know you’re going through something.” She let her cold hand fall against his warm one. He was always the one with the warmest hands.  “Take all the time you need, Rem. I’m not going anywhere. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here. Always here.”

Remus thought at that moment that he was lucky to have her. He wanted to tell her that, but words failed him. So, he settled on giving her a kiss on her forehead. A waft of roses tickled his nostrils and he immediately recognized her shampoo. Sweet and soft. Just like her. 

She smiled, squeezing his hand. “I brought you something.”

Remus chuckled, turning his hand to wrap his fingers around hers. He was pretty sure his heart would burst out of his chest anytime now. “Really?”

She hummed, getting something out from her pocket. A silver wrapper rustled in her free hand, glimmering against the orange of the flames. A saccharine smell rose and enveloped them both. Chocolate. “I know how much you love chocolate and I saw how down you looked this whole day, so I just bought some from Honeydukes.” 

Remus felt his blood rushing to the top of his head, his hands got all clammy and he feared that Y/N would figure him out. He lifted his eyes to meet hers. She bore a soft smile on her lips. “Wanna share?” he asked.

“I’d love to.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

 “It's someone who makes you a better person. Actually, they don't make you a better person, you do that yourself - because they inspire you.”

More than once, Y/N found that being with Remus made it all so much easier. Being with him erased the tumultuous barriers of the approaching Wizarding War. The Daily Prophet brought dark news every morning. She usually skimmed through those, before giving the newspaper to Remus, knowing he’d read it thoroughly. She’d then turn to exchange some girly gossip with Lily, Marlene and Dorcas (“Potter asked me out again,” Lily would say for the fourth time that week). Afterwards, Y/N would turn to throw a smile towards Remus, just so he could know she was still there with him. 

This time though, she gripped the newspaper until her knuckles turned white. More than three muggle attacks occurred in the past few days and she was growing anxious. Remus got ahold of the newspaper, lowering it before lightly touching her hand. “Hey, you alright?”

“Do you ever wonder if we’ll turn out like him?”

Remus dropped his gaze to the headline of the Daily Prophet: “He Who Must Not Be Named strikes again, dark forces on the rise.”

“No. Do you?”

“Sometimes,” she sighed, slowly letting the newspaper fall into Remus’ hand. 

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

The newspaper was now on the table in front of them, the headline screaming at her, black letters taking up most of the page, a moving picture with houses on fire staring at her. “I’m just afraid that one day I won't be able to recognize myself. That I will look into the mirror and see a stranger, that things beyond my power will change me.”

Remus’ voice reached her ears in the form of a soft whisper. “I’m sure that’ll never be the case, Y/N.”

She turned to look at him, eyes glossy. “How can you be so sure?”

He smiled, meeting her gaze. “Because I know you. You’re one of the kindest people I know. If you are ever to get lost, I’m sure you would find your way. And if you don’t, I’ll be there to guide you.”

Her smile mirrored his, cold hands meeting warm ones. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“A soulmate is someone who you can carry with you forever.”

Years passed and soon enough, Y/N received the wedding invitation of James and Lily. The redhead delivered it to her in person, insisting she had to tell her something. Marlene was off to the Ministry with some work that day, while their parents were taking the tea in the back garden. She was just putting another kettle on, intending to make jasmine tea for herself, when Lily apparated at her doorstep. A knock was heard at the door, and Y/N was pulled from her wandering thoughts. She took wide strides, passing the moving pictures on the walls of her and her sister from when they were little, and opened the door. A kind smile and a mop of red hair greeted her. 

“Lily! Hi! Come in, I was just making tea!” she said as she hurriedly hugged her. 

“Thank you,” replied Lily entering the house and taking a seat on the couch. 

“I’ll be right back! You sit here, alright?” said Y/N, just as she took off towards the kitchen. She pulled out two cups from the cupboard, intricate flowers gleaming on the porcelain. The kettle whistled and she took it off the stove, pouring the tea in each cup. The sweet aroma of jasmine enveloped her in warm embraces. “Would you like sugar or milk for your tea?” she yelled, hoping that Lilly heard her.

“Just sugar for me, please! Two cubes!”

“Coming right up!” She put two cubes in Lily’s cup and three in hers, before she turned to leave the kitchen, hands holding steaming cups. 

“How’s Marls?” Lily asked as she saw her entering the living room. 

“Oh, she’s alright. Busy with work. How’s James?” Y/N smiled as she took a seat across from her, in an old armchair. 

At that, Lily blushed and gave her the envelope she was hiding in the pockets of her dress. Y/N threw her a confused look, before opening it, sparkling paper soft against her hands.

James Potter and Lily Evans cordially invite you to their wedding

Y/N gasped, before looking up at Lily, meeting her emerald gaze. “Oh, Lily! This is amazing! Congratulations!” Her gaze slipped towards Lily’s left hand, wondering how she didn’t notice the ring sparkling there. The stone had the same colour of her eyes. Emerald. 

“I want you to be my maid of honour, Y/N,” Lily replied with eagerness, taking ahold of Y/N’s hands. “Please, will you be my maid of honour?”

“Of course I will!”

And this is how Y/N found herself giving the Maid of Honour speech in front of one hundred people (most of the guests were from James’ side, family and relatives. Lily only invited her sister, who unfortunately didn’t show up). She was growing hot under the attentive gazes of everyone, her dress starting to itch. Her eyes slipped across the crowd, until they met with honeyed ones. Remus. Her best friend. He gave her a reassuring smile. She cleared her throat. “I’m not going to say much. There isn’t really much to be said, when everyone can see how hopelessly in love they are with each other. I’m only going to say that I had the honour to see how their love blossomed, it took James six years to finally get a date with her, and another three to marry her but he did prove to be successful.” The crowd roared in laughter. Y/N’s eyes didn’t stray away from Remus. “Here’s to forever!”

The guests whooped and clinked their champagne glasses together, while Y/N got off the stage, knees buckling. Remus met her halfway, touching her arm. He was bearing a wide smile, his eyes twinkling under the low light. “That must have been the shortest Maid of Honour speech I have ever heard.”

She rolled her eyes. “How many did you actually hear?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“None. Yours was the first.”

She smirked before a slow song started to play, couples shuffling to the dance floor, champagne long forgotten. James was bowing to Lily, asking for a dance and she laughed before getting ahold of his elbow and dragging him to the dance floor. Y/N smiled at the sight before turning to look at Remus. 

He looked so achingly beautiful. His sandy hair was ruffled from the many times he ran his hands through it, honey eyes shining under the fairy lights, white shirt unbuttoned at the top and tie loosened. He was softly smiling at her and she felt herself melting. “Would you like to dance?”

She blinked before nodding. “Yeah,” she whispered, but she was pretty sure he heard her nonetheless. His warm hands touched her cold ones, guiding her towards the dance floor while walking backwards, not once taking his gaze off of her. They stopped at the edge of the dance floor, one of his hands slipping to hold her waist, the other still gently touching hers. He started leading them in a slow dance, humming under his breath. 

It must have been the champagne getting to her head, because she found herself boldly asking the question that’s been plaguing her mind for years now. “Do they end up together?”

Remus twirled her before holding her closer. “Who?”

“The best friends.”

“You mean Jo and Laurie?” he asked, remembering their conversation from a few years ago.

“No, I mean us.”

Remus’ breath was caught in his throat. His hand tightened around her waist. “Do you want us to?”

She sighed, before meeting his gaze. “I thought I made this obvious, Rem.”

He blinked in an attempt to clear his mind. “When?”

“During our school years. Everyone caught on, except you.”

He suddenly felt out of focus. The lights were blinding him and he felt his feet dancing on nothing. The only thing grounding him was Y/N. “How long?” he found himself speaking up, his voice foreign to him.

Y/N remained silent for a second in his arms. “I think it must’ve been the third year.”

Remus almost choked. “Oh, love, we could have saved so much time,” he replied, before leaning down to capture her lips with his. She was softer than he ever imagined, her signature roses shampoo reached him in waves, getting him drunk and lightheaded. There was a hint of jasmine lingering on her lips and he almost melted when she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him closer. He pulled away to catch his breath, before leaning his forehead against hers. He was still drunk on jasmine and roses. “Forever?”

She smiled against him, pecking his lips. “Forever.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“It's the one person who knew you and accepted you and believed in you before anyone else did, or when no one else would.”

Dawn was just breaking through when Remus Lupin stumbled through Y/N McKinnon’s front door, blood seeping through his shirt. She was awake, thoughts and worries of The Wizarding War weighing her down. She was just putting a kettle of jasmine tea on the stove when she heard Remus’ harsh breathing and screaming of pain. She stumbled out of the kitchen, knees melting at the sight of him so disheveled. “Merlin, what happened?!” she said as she rushed to him, supporting his weight on her shoulders and guiding him to the couch. She gently lowered him on the soft pillows. 

He breathed in through his nose, wincing when his back made contact with the pillows. 

“Stay right here, I’ll bring some water and a towel to clean those wounds for you, alright?”

He nodded in response but she was long gone. He let his eyes wander through the living room, gaze catching sight of several moving childhood pictures of Y/N and Marlene. There was one in which little Y/N was biting down on little Marlene’s golden hair. The sloshing of water and the rapid steps of Y/N brought his attention back to her. She knelt beside the couch, unbuttoning his crimson shirt and wetting the towel into the bucket of water. Her hands were shaking. She was trying to hide it, but Remus still saw. “This is gonna sting,” she mumbled, a tremor in her voice. 

The wet and cold towel touched his slashing wounds on his chest and Remus felt as though a thousand needles pierced his skin. He hissed through his teeth. “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” said Y/N worriedly. “How did this even happen?”

He shyly met her gaze. “It was a full moon last night.”

Remus expected her to react differently, to widen her eyes and back away from him, to kick him out of her house, to break up with him. Instead, her eyes saddened considerably, casting down to the wounds. “Oh.”

He was surprised he found the courage to speak up. “Do you– do you think less of me now?”

She raised her head in a whiplash, eyes wide. “Why would I? You’re still my Rem, are you not?”

Remus’ lips parted and he stared at her, taking in her wild hair and noticing her tired eyes. Somehow, she still looked beautiful. “I love you,” he blurted out. “I love you, Y/N.”

She released a breath, leaning down towards him. Her lips met his in a short lived kiss. “I love you,” she replied just above a whisper. “I always will.”

The smell of jasmine traveled all the way from the kitchen to the living room, embracing them both in a sweet blanket of aroma. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“ And no matter what happens, you will always love them. Nothing can ever change that.”

The Order of the Phoenix was meeting for the third time that month. Remus bore a skipping in his steps, despite the weight on his shoulders.  He would see Y/N again after a whole two weeks of not seeing each other. He left for a mission, while she remained in London, a promise held between them. He apparated at the Order’s Headquarters, before knocking on the door. 

“Password?” Alastor Moody's voice came through.

“Lemon sorbet.” Albus Dumbledore was in charge of the passwords.

The door was opened for him and he greeted Moody with a smile. The man just acknowledged him with a nod of his head. “Come on in. The rest are inside.”

Remus advanced through the dark, dingy house before entering the rather poorly furnished living room. His smile weakened at the heavy atmosphere in the room. Everyone looked sullen at best. His gaze searched for Y/N but he didn’t find her.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked, a worry starting to seep into his voice. 

“You haven’t heard?” a glossy eyed Lily asked him.  

“Hear what? And where’s Marlene? I don’t see her either.”

“The McKinnons are gone, Moony,” James spoke up, coming near him.

Remus awkwardly laughed. “Gone where? They stayed in London, didn’t they?”

“They’re dead, mate,” a tired Sirius said. “Voldemort got to them.”

Remus felt as though someone stole the earth from under his feet. The room was darkening around him, spinning in circles. His chest tightened and his vision stung and clouded. “No, that can’t be. Just two weeks ago, they were here. I talked to Y/N, she promised we’d get a house somewhere in the countryside and I promised her I’d buy her a proper ring and we’d–” his voice left him. “And Marlene too?”

No one answered him. It was understood. 

He fell into a dusty armchair and cried. He let the darkness cloud his mind. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

1995

Harry Potter was following his godfather in an abandoned waiting room at the station. “Sirius, what are you doing here?! If somebody sees you–”

Sirius turned to look at Harry. “I had to see you, didn’t I?”

“I don’t want to see you get shut in Azkaban,” Harry replied, taking a seat beside him on an old, tattered bench. 

Sirius waved him off. “Oh, don’t worry about me.” He reached into the pocket of his old coat, which reeked of naphthalene. “Anyway, I wanted you to have this.” He handed him a yellowed photo. Familiar faces smiled up to him. Harry took it in his hands and studied it, recognizing his parents. “The original Order of the Phoenix,” Sirius went on explaining. He pointed to a blonde in the corner of the photo. “Marlene McKinnon. She was killed two weeks after this was taken. Voldemort wiped out her entire family. That’s her sister right there, Y/N.”  Harry’s eyes took notice of a petite woman, holding onto Remus’ hand and smiling up to him, before turning towards the camera. Remus leaned down to plant a kiss on her forehead before posing for the camera. 

“Did Remus know her?” he asked, although he already knew the answer. 

He heard Sirius sigh beside him. “Oh, yes. They were the best of friends. Soulmates. It broke him the day she died.”

Harry’s gaze slipped towards a couple in which he saw too much of his housemate and herbology enthusiast friend. “Neville’s parents,” he acknowledged. 

“They suffered a fate worse than death, if you ask me,” replied Sirius. He then smiled sadly, looking at the photograph image of Lily and James Potter. “It’s been fourteen years and still a day doesn’t go by when I don’t miss your dad.”

Harry regarded the photo a few more moments, a pang in his heart at the sight of his parents happily together and still alive. “Do you really think there’s going to be a war, Sirius?”

His godfather pondered the question, before replying slowly. “It feels like it did before.”

The raven haired boy went to give him back the photo, but Sirius beat him to it. “You keep it! Anyway, I suppose you’re the young ones, now.”

Harry smiled, looking down once more at the forgotten faces of the original members of the Order of the Phoenix, his eyes again catching the sight of a red faced Y/N and a smiling Remus, before putting the photograph in his pockets. The Hogwarts Express was announcing its departure.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for reading! Just for reference, the soulmate quote isn't mine, it's from a TV show called Dawson's Creek, which I found interesting and sweet so I kinda built this fic around it.

The last scene of this fic used for inspiration is from the fifth Harry Potter movie, even though Alastor Moody is the one who shows Harry the photograph of the original Order of the Phoenix, not Sirius, but it was more accessible to me this way because I haven't reread the books in a long time.

Let me know your thoughts! Every kind of feedback is highly appreciated!

Also, if you'd like to be added to my tag list, just comment under this post or send me an ask! Lots of love xx

Tag list: @bohemianrhapsody86 @andreead

[stardancerluv]

When the Predator Becomes the Prey

Part 4

Summary: Remembering the beginning.

Notes/Warnings: Language, Implied sex, implied illegal behavior. (Be safe) Shifted the pov to reader…wanted to give a different view of him & her. A little longer of a chapter! Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

❤️s, feedback, comments & reblogs are appreciated.

Your heart was still racing from riding Nicky at the dinner table. Still breathless gripping the white porcelain edge of the pedestal sink you eyed your reflection. Your hair was in complete disarray, your cheeks were flushed and you were certain, he had left bruises on your hips from where he held you in place. He had channeled in his anger into his passion that you brought out of him just as you had channeled your angst over the entire situation.

“Doll, the take-out is getting cold.” Nicky’s voice came through the door. “Don’t stay in there all night.”

You pressed your lips together and grimaced. “I’ll be right out.” You called back.

You had not meant to make him so angry but now, now you felt much better. Worry had been prickling at you. Stepping back, you eyed the gentle swell. Becoming a mother had not ever been on your personal to-do list. But the attraction between you had been stronger then anything you had ever felt. Your body and had eagerly taken his seed as you had responded to that easy smirk, touch or kisses.

You had always thought he was bad news. He still was but was on the other side of life. There was a razor’s edge to him that you were certain, would lead to your death. It still could. Damn, maybe it was pregnancy brain or the chemistry you had between the two of you, but you’d happily die on that razor edge for him.

You splashed some cool water on your face and turning you headed back out. He had placed your fork back beside your plate.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist as you walked by. His thumb easily caressing you.

“Are you better?”

His were warm, the anger was gone but the determination he had in most situations was there in the sky blue.

You nodded.

“Let me hear you say it.”

“I am better Nicky. I am sorry I doubted you, I mean us.” You quickly spoke over the you.

“Good. Now don’t fucking let those insecurities win again.”

“I won’t.”

*******

You snapped awake. Glancing, around you spotted, What to Expect When Expecting was open and sitting on the coffee table and a blanket was draped over you.

“Nick? Nicky?”

Looking around you spotted light pouring from under the door of his room. He took care of things in there, he prepared and he finished things there as well. You never went in there.

Pulling the blanket aside, you went over. You knocked softly. “Nicky?”

You heard some shuffling on the other side, you backed up.

“Hey there sleepy head.” He gave you a half smile.

You smiled, feeling as he looked you up and down. “Are you ok?”

“Yup.” You nodded. “Just woke up.”

“I’m almost done in here.”

“Ok! You said brightly. “I was thinking of taking a bath.”

His eyes lit up. “Want me to join you?”

You were warmed by the thought. “Could be nice.”

“Alright, why don’t you get it started and I will he there shortly.”

********

You sat on the rim of the tub watching the water begin to rise. Taking a the cork out of glass bottle, with a smile you happily sniffed at the rose-hip oil before pouring some into the water.

Carefully you pulled your now wrinkled dress off and with your panties; you tossed them into the hamper. Opening your vanity, grabbing a hair tie and put your hair up.

Holding onto the rim and your tummy with careful moves; sighing you immersed yourself into the water. Relief filled you. This felt so good.

You were glad, Nicky was in a better mood. You had not meant to upset him. You remembered when you had first saw him.

******

You eyed your reflection in the backroom and twirled.

“Hi girlie, look at you.” Stacy snapped her gum and came up behind her. She smiled at your reflection. “You look hot.”

You nudged her away. “I am not.”

“You are the boys out there will love you.”

You rose an eyebrow. “All the better for tips.”

“We’ll see.”

“Go get em, girl.”

You forced a smile and went over to the double doors. Taking a quick breath you went out there.

The clinking of glasses, the hum of conversation broken up by some shrill laughs filled the air.

You saw some prospects but you hesitated, continuing to move among the tables. Before you realized it, you had walked towards the back. That’s when you saw him.

A lone man, you caught sight of him before he saw you.

“Hello there handsome, is there anything I can get you?”

With a breath, you managed your best smile. Though, your nervousness made your heart skip a few beats.

Then he looked up from his phone. Your heart picked up speed, he was so handsome. The most attractive man you ever laid your eyes on.

Hair fantastically slicked back, a glint of chain laid on under his button down shirt and their was a twinkle in his dark eyes.

He slipped his phone away, his lips curled into a smirk. “Give me a twirl baby?”

Annoyance prickled you. Your smile tightened on your face. “I’m not for sale.”

“Am I trying to buy you? No. Now give me a twirl.” His voice was sharp.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.” Pressing your lips together, you twirled.

“Very nice.”

He leaned toward you, his lips curled into a smirk.

“Look, I got some important guys coming in. Wanna be the girl for our table tonight, and I’ll treat you right?”

You put a hand on your hip. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

You nervously glance around.

“Go tell your boss, Adam is asking for you.” He sat back and smirked.

“Oh alright.” You muttered under your breath and fluttered off.

Your heart was thumping in your chest as you made your way back to Tommy’s office. You took a breath and knocked.

“Yeah?!“

Opening the door, you peaked around it. You smiled despite how your stomach lurched at the sight of him. He always reminded you on a toad perched on a rock waiting to snatch a fly out of the air. Not once he had raised his voice to you, but he still grossed you out.

“Yes, sugar?”

You swallowed, you came more into his office. You blinked at the the swirls of cigar smoke in the small room.

“Some guy named Adam asked if I could be the girl for his table tonight.”

“Adam, huh?” He sat back in his seat, making it creak and groan under him. “Have you met him before?”

You shook your head. “No sir.”

“He’s a pretty big deal, one of our steady clients; Lambert thinks he’s a good man.”

“Ok.” You didn’t know what else to say, you didn’t know exactly what that meant.

“Be your usual sweet self. If he asks for anything unusual tell me.”

“Unusual?”

Tommy moved forward practically bracing himself against his large desk. “Blow, girls who are not ours.” The rest of his words were garbled in his big lips.

You nodded. Stacy had told you interesting things went down there but the pay was good. This would be your introduction to it, you guessed.

“Now you be a good girl because if he complains about you, I won’t be happy.”

“Yes, sir.”

As you made your way back; you don’t know why but your heart kind of sank when you saw one of the girls practically curled up to his side, making doe eyes and playing with his chain.

He became more erect, practically separating himself from her as you drew closer. He ran his fingers through his slicked back hair.

Why should he even care, you wondered. You guessed people acted differently in these kind of establishments. You’d just roll with it.

“What did he say doll?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Now go and get me a neat whiskey.”

“Yes, sir.”

One of the corners of his mouth twitched up at your words.

******

“Room enough in there for me?” His voice broke into your memory.

You gasped and smiled. “Of course.”

You easily scooted towards the brushed nickel bathtub fixtures. Idly you remembered how growing up having a tub like this would have been something from a dream or a catalog.

A smile curled your lips as you felt his hands take a hold of you and you were soon resting against him.

His chin rested on the top of your head.

“What had you so far away?”

Rarely, did he concern himself too much about you and your day dreams. He had enough on his mind, making sure things were taken care or getting done. He also knew you were pretty self sufficient.

“Remembering, when we first met.”

“Oh.” He chuckled. “You were the prettiest piece of ass I had ever seen. I needed someway to get to know you better.”

“Is that so?” You countered. “Jenna, was practically hanging off of you when I got back from speaking with Tommy.”

“Well, I had to ignite your jealousy.”

“Oh? And what made you think that would do it?”

You could see him smirking without even a glance back at him.

“The way you were towards me before I asked you to be the girl for my table.”

“I could have thought you were just like every other asshole that came into that place.”

He chuckled. “But I wasn’t.”

You moved easily in the water. Turning and seeing him like he was then; made your heart skip. Arms on the rim of the tub, silver chain glistening against his chest hair and pearls of water that clung to him after getting into the tub and his ice like blue eyes hooded in his confidence of the memory and himself.

“You certainly weren’t.” You kissed his jaw.

*******

His phone chirped to life as he oiled his hand gun.

Found the pack. Meeting at noon tomorrow. Warehouse on Lexington and Park. He read Lambert’s message.

He put the rag and gun down, and wiped his hands on his slacks.

Good. He typed back.

Getting up, he came out of his room. Not finding you in the living room, he went to check the bedroom. You were deep into your closet.

“Planning on going somewhere?” He leaned against the door frame.

You jumped. He smiled.

“I am trying to find something to wear to the ultrasound.”

“That’s tomorrow?” He took off his glasses and wiped away a smudge he spotted.

“Yes, I told you over breakfast.”

“Oh right. Was distracted waiting for Lambert’s call.” He admitted.

You made a face and turned back to your clothes.

“When is the appointment?”

“Twelve-Thirty.” You continued shifting through the colorful fabrics.

“I’ll try and make it.”

That’s when you turned, and took a step towards him. “We will find out what we’re having.”

He stepped closer. “Are we sure we want to find out?”

He couldn’t read your expression and that annoyed him.

“We agreed that we did.”

“I will try.”

*******

He eyed his wrist watch. Ten of twelve. It was a clear day, the sun was bright and there was not a cloud to be seen. His uber was a block away from his destination.

*******

With a small pile of clothes laid at your feet, you decided finally on a cami and hoodie and some leggings. Satisfied, you zipped up the light hoodie.

The jell for the ultrasound always left you cold. Despite having a good breakfast, you felt ill. Nicky had tried to sweeten you up by ordering in your favorite breakfast. You were upset that he would not be there.

******

He walked in. He didn’t like being this exposed. The pay off was worth it, he reminded himself.

A laugh bounced off the walls.

“I knew that you’d be the first to arrive.” The voice echoed.

Turning, he saw Lambert walking over to him and he nodded.

Shrugging, he glanced down at his watch. Five of Twelve.

******

“Mrs. Barrett.” You said to the receptionist looked up at you.

“Oh! You’re early.”

You glanced at the big clock behind the woman. Twelve - Fifteen.

“I was told that’s best.”

“It is. Most don’t.”

You smiled and shrugged.

@the1redrose @blurpleuni-squid

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

💗 // my blog is @peacexatxlast 🧡

"It don't mean we can't believe in something, and anyway my baby's coming back now on the next train. I can hear the whistle blowing. I can hear the nightly roar. I can hear the horses prancing in the pastures of the Lord. Oh, the train is coming, and I'm standing here to see. And it's bringing my baby right back to me. Well, there are some things too hard to explain. But my baby's coming home now, on the 5:30 train." - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds | "Bright Horses"

Hey @peacexatxlast, I hope you love your Tommy moodboard!

Send me a 💗 in my ask, and I’ll make you a moodboard for one of your blog’s celebs or muses or surprise you!

[tagmusicblog]

"Even my mum seemed to sense there was something different about me. I remember vividly one night, apropos of nothing in particular, my mother confided in me that she once she once had a transvestite friend named Greta. She didn't go into detail, simply explaining to me that Greta was a man who dressed as a woman, and had sex with men - as a woman. [...] Maybe mum saw my interest in gender-bending, and suspected she had a homosexual son, and that was just her way of letting me know that not only did she understand, but she accepted me."

Kid Congo Powers, Some New Kind Of Kick

[foxes-that-run]

Sorry if this question has been answered a thousand times! But yes, I do really want to know where T was April 29th!!! Can you give more information on this story?

There are previous posts on it in 2016 timeline, song analysis' for I did something bad, and @tameimpala222's post on Calvin Harris' Ole.

Do you really want to know where I was April 29? 

This high infidelity line could be as much to fans as to Calvin. Like Dear Reader, it says to fans how some see Taylor in a narrow idealised way

OK, but what happened?

Set up:

Taylor and Calvin had been on pretty rocky ground. There has been rumours that he had been unfaithful, that Taylor was jealous of yachtgate and that Calvin was jealous of that jealousy.

Taylor won Album of the Year on 16 February and in Miss Americana said she felt alone and had no one she could call. (21 Minutes)

Harry and Kendall started the year with Yachtgate 6 January. Kendall was in Europe and didn’t go to Harry’s birthday party on the 21st and they arrived and left separately Jeff’s birthday 23 January so hendall was over then. They weren’t seen together for months apart from a pap walk that promoted KUWTK.

Harry was in LA at the same time. He wore this blue Hawaii st Laurent shirt on his 22nd birthday, also the day of the feeling 22 tweet which went viral. Taylor tumblr likes Holy Ground lyrics about falling apart. Taylor was in LA but not seen. 2 weeks later he wrote Sweet Creature which is a love song, but also references seeding doubt in a love interests' partners mind.

At this time, Calvin also started writing a diss track (Ole) about a guy (Harry) who ignores his GF (Kendall) for someone else (Taylor) who is a fake girlfriend to the subject (Calvin), the video shades Hendall and Haylor.

28 February - 29 April

Harry and Taylor then started hinting at hooking up, or wanting to. On 28 February Taylor looks stunning and alone at the Vanity Fair Oscar Party, Harry tweets Elvis lyrics about not being over an ex and posted a colour photo to instagram (it had been B&W since OOTW came out unless he saw Taylor).

Taylor and Calvin posted about the 1 year anniversary a week later and spent 3 days with backgrid in the Bahamas. Harry went back to London and looked grumpy getting a parking ticket that week. :/

But then it seemed back on 25 March when Taylor and Harry return to LA the same day 👀 and are seen around LA separately.

On the 3rd April Taylor and Calvin are hostile at the iHeartRadio awards, blinds they fought in the pap walk.

The end for Tayvin was at Coachella/Bleachella/TIWYCF when Calvin didn't give Taylor credit for This is What you Came for. A year later there was a blind item that TIWYCF was about who Taylor was having an affair with (in hindsight it’s really Haylor), to me this helps explain why it went so bad over it.

Harry again tweeted Cars lyrics about being with an ex that you love no matter what And then finally, as well known Taylor went to Gigi's birthday party on the 28th, and did not show up for promo for TIWYCF, neither Harry or Taylor are seen on the 29th.

The next Day Harry is still in LA in a walk of shame to a Gym and Calvin goes on Radio to say she isn't working.

Alas it didn't work out for either couple, Tayvin imploded. Harry went to Europe to shoot Dunkirk then record HS1 and Taylor was looking for someone to be with her all the time and publicly move on from the Tayvin disaster. You know the rest.

For bonus the promo Taylor was a no show was possible this interview with Calvin had Nick Grimshaw, AKA Harry's close friend and long term maker of lighthearted Haylor jokes, in Calvins house on April 29 2016!

Later references

What makes this and interesting comment on Taylors fans thinking they know everything is that it wasn't known.... Were it not for Ole and Kiwi's videos that is!

Later in 2016 Calvin released Ole that references outfits Taylor, Kendall and Harry all wore in this period and Calvin posted to instagram wearing Harry's exact shirt from February.

Harry recreated Taylors look from this party in the protagonist of the Kiwi music video, which refers to when Taylor said at 2015 Oscar’s she was “going home to the cats” and Calvin (prick) "When she's alone, she goes home to a cactus (Uh) In a black dress, she's such an actress"

And finally, for irony and lols:

On 29 April 2017 (the 1 year anniversary of this high infidelity) Harry got papped wearing the same shirt.

In September Capital FM used the photo Calvin's used to troll Harry and Taylor in an article calling him a 'baller'. Harry has a leaked song from this era, Super Pretty with the line "Said you're happier with that big baller that we both knew growing up"

And it still continues in when Harry's friend Roman Kemp presented Calvin with Harry Styles Bathwater at the 2024 Brits.

Joe Alwyn, the Bowery Gastropub & Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk "reshoots"

A Reddit and Toe-Tumber version of this story is:

Joe was in LA for BLLHW reshoots and was with co-star Garrett Hedlund, who's friends with Caleb Followill who is married to Lily Aldridge who was at Gigi's party where we know Taylor was. There is a pub named the Bowery Gastropub on Sunset and Vine so of course Taylor met Joe there because 6 degrees of separation. It somehow makes sense that Tayvin continued and Hiddleswift happened and that she wrote in the lover journal that Toe started dating 3 months before January.

Issues with this story:

This story hinges on a screenshot from an office assistants LinkedIn claiming to have worked freelance on reshoots for the film for 2 months March and April 2016. If you search the words in the screenshot the Linkedin profile does say that. However if you look at profiles for editors, videographers and producers on the film they all ended mid-2015. Perhaps the freelance office assistant was working on a different film, or listed the wrong task.

Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk had no reshoots. They had no budget for them and shot specifically to avoid them. It was also not shot in LA.

Footage for the film had already been debuted on 16 April 2016. They were definitely not still shooting a low budget film 2 weeks later when it was being screened and was released in November

Joe was in London on 20 March 2016. There is no reason to think Joe was in LA.

Joe and Garrett Hedlund did attend the Met Gala - however as a C/B lister Garrett would not have a plus one, more likely he was Lily's plus one!

Caleb Followill, and his brother and bandmate Nathan Followill go way back with Harry - Nathan has a matching tattoo of the other half of Harry's broken heart tattoo! Harry (and Taylor) were at a Calab Followill's 2015 birthday party when they were last seen together. If the Followill connect/ Bowery gastropub is true at all, it was not a no-name friend of a friend who was in London! 😂 It was a BFF who was in LA and flirting with his ex-GF.

This mental gymnastics to fit Joe into a story that three artists have described is a good example of how swifties want to keep Taylor in a defined perfect box, which she wants out of. It reminds me of this quote she gave Rolling Stone in 2014, about the snowboarding accident and OOTW:

"People think they know the whole narrative of my life, I think maybe that line is there to remind people that there are really big things they don’t know about."

[iheartguyswithmachetes]

more twdg season 2 headcanons and baseless accusations (mostly luke)

- The first bit of the apocalypse Nick, Pete and Nick’s mom stayed with Luke and his family until it got overrun by walkers (twd season 2 esque) and then they hit the road and met Carver, so between being isolated on the farm and Carver’s camp they never *really* knew how bad things had gotten until they left (hence why eleven year old Clem who’s been out in the open with Christa so long is more fucking competent than half of them)

- Luke’s machete is actually a family heirloom/was gifted to him, might have his initials or a family name or something engraved on the handle

- Luke moved back home to his small town after college but def did an internship or at least tried to break into something related to his degree- I like to think he might have gone into Art Restoration or Curation

- Nick never had any siblings or cousins really, Pete might have been married once but kids never came of it, he might have gotten divorced when Nick was young and having to step up and be Nick’s father figure didn’t leave him a lot of time for his own family.

- On that note: Nick was always super close to Luke’s parents (and siblings?), having a mom who was probably a working mother he would spend a lot of dinners and sleepovers at Luke’s.

- If Luke does have siblings I can only picture him having sisters- maybe Nick just takes up that brother spot in my mind. If I had to be delulu about it Luke’s probably the middle child, high sense of independence, strong social skills, sharing behaviours etc. But I also think being the only boy in his family and growing up in what was probably a small southern town cultivated his whole leadership skills, even if he doesn’t like confrontation

- Sarah had a horse girl phase- or maybe was one when we meet her in the apocalypse. She also definitely did Kumon.

- Sarah’s mom died pre-apocalypse or in the earlier days, meaning Carlos was always very protective of her from early on and her having anxiety or PTSD as we see in the game clearly lead to him sheltering her but I think the death of her mom either pre or early apocalypse would also add to that

- I like to think that Carver pre apocalypse had a pretty shitty life where maybe he didn’t have a lot of power OR he had jobs where he had a bit of power and it kind of got to his head, like the teacher from The Breakfast Club for example. I think he saw the apocalypse as, obviously a bad thing, but also a way out of his menial life and an opportunity to have powers over others

- I don’t believe the Carver being Luke’s dad theory HOWEVER I do think that Luke’s dad was probably also a gruff n tuff older man, I don’t think he was on Carver’s level but I definitely think that Luke’s dad was a hard-ass southern man (hence “minor in agriculture to make the old man happy”) and I think that would also explain why Luke doesn’t like confrontation despite liking control and a leadership role, I don’t think his dad was abusive or anything and I think Luke probably had a good homelife but I also think that maybe there was a seed of resentment there and some ways that his dad was that was part of the reason why Luke, despite being shown to be conflict avoidant and a mediator “butted heads” with Carver so much and why they seemed to have such a weird beef going on

anyway these are baseless accusations to twdg season 2 characters

[dustedmagazine]

Listening Post: Nick Cave

Nick Cave got his start in the punk clubs of Melbourne, as the shirtless, skeletal and incandescent front man for the Birthday Party, an outfit once dubbed “the most violent live band in the world.” That band split up in 1983, but not before, arguably, launching the goth punk genre with their single “Release the Bats.”

Cave’s next project, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds launched in 1982, bringing together a core group of collaborators — Warren Ellis, Martyn P. Casey, George Vjestica, Jim Schlavunos and Thomas Wydler — that continues to back him today. (As well as a couple, notably Mick Harvey and Blixa Bargeld, who no longer participate). It was with the Bad Seeds that Cave began to explore a driving blues-based psychedelia. The harder rocking Grinderman project branched off from there in 2006.

Cave’s last few albums, starting with Push the Sky Away and continuing through Skeleton Tree and Ghosteen, are very different from his work with the Birthday Party, or, indeed, early Bad Seeds. They are quieter and more uneasy. Ghosteen, produced after the tragic death of Cave’s teenage son, incorporates lavish orchestral arrangements and lacerating imagery.

In some ways, the 18th and latest Cave album, Wild God continues that trajectory, surrounding visionary lyrics with the sounds of a full orchestra and gospel choir. Yet this one, unlike the past two, again brings in the Bad Seeds, girding whipped cream heaps of violin glissandos with the muscle of bass, drums and rock guitar.

The album also marks a departure from the preceding two by focusing on joy. Despite the untimely death of two of his sons, the passing of colleagues, the pandemic and all the uncertainties of politics and climate and war, Cave fixes resolutely on the beauties of the world, like frogs jumping heaven-ward in the rain or brown horses grazing peacefully in the grass. It’s a bold stance in 2024, but a welcome one. We could all use some joy.

Intro by Jennifer Kelly

Jennifer Kelly: So, I think my very favorite thing in Wild God is the way that “Conversion” kicks into high gear about halfway through, with the gospel choir and all, and it just picks you up and takes you away. What are you all liking or not liking here?

Justin Cober-Lake: I’ve liked nearly all of Cave’s recent work, but this one is probably my favorite of the era. You mention it continuing the trajectory of the past three, which work as a sort of trilogy (ignoring Carnage). Cave’s taken the orchestral and atmospheric approach from those albums, but used it here to fill out a Bad Seeds album. This album returns him to his rock sounds, but it’s still an album that comes out of the trilogy. Though they’re fairly different, it’s hard to imagine this sound arriving without Ghosteen. It brings together a wide stretch of musical thought to create something very focused tonally. It means that forays like the gospel moments make sense even if they’re surprising.

Similarly, it mixes his older sense of storytelling with his more recent confessional sort of writing (admitting that there isn’t a clear era divide for these approaches, just that the personal, emotional sketches are more prominent since Push the Sky Away). Cave’s always been masterful, but Wild God feels like the album where all the elements of his art came together in a unified and powerful way.

Jonathan Shaw: Justin points to gospel moments on Wild God, and yes, I got two-thirds of the way through my first listen and thought, “Oh, it’s a gospel record.” Scans with all the writing and chatter about Christianity and religiosity Cave has done over the past bunch of years, but it still surprised me. I have been away from his music since the early 1990s, save for that first Grinderman record, which I found sort of charming, a return to the grime and squalor of the first few post-Birthday Party records (I still listen to From Her to Eternitysometimes). So, this is a strange place to land as a listener. I am still getting my footing, as it were, but I really like “Frogs” and I really don’t like “Joy” and “O Wow O Wow” is just sort of embarrassing.

So much seems to be in those first two tracks, which I am ambivalent about. I sort of like “Song of the Lake.” As a middle-aged dude, I can identify. But the grandness of the music feels of a piece with Cave’s characteristic grandiosities, which is what drove me away from his stuff in the first place. I’m going to keep listening.

Ian Mathers: For me, I wasn’t so much driven away by Cave’s grandiosities as kept away in the first place. I still have the Birthday Party on my (long, ever expanding) list of bands to get around to checking out one day, but his solo/Bad Seeds stuff never seemed that appealing. The most exposure I got was working in a record store where coworkers played the then-newer Abattoir Blues/The Lyre of Orpheus and first Grinderman records a fair bit. I was never annoyed by those records, but they did confirm and kind of cement my perception of him as very full of himself.

I don’t mean that in a dismissive or diminishing way; I think being full of himself is kind of the key to both what I find appealing in Cave and what I find kind of risible (including his advice column, which in my experience veers between genuinely very good and frequently moving, and making me roll my eyes and sigh). It feels like Nick Cave is as Nick Cave as he can possibly be at all times, and even when I’m not enjoying that there’s something wonderful there.

That being said, Ghosteen in 2019 marked the first time something I heard from Cave really landed with me. Yes, I appreciated his writing around the death of his son (and felt for him and his family), but that alone wouldn’t have gotten me to check it out. Something about the way people were talking about it made me think I had to check it out. And it grabbed me from the first listen. I think it’s a really beautiful record with a lot to talk about... that we’re not really focused on right now. But it did make me feel like I wanted to check out whatever Cave did next.

Something about the opening “Song of the Lake” made me think this was going to be another Ghosteen for me, where I feel like I got it and liked the record right from the first listen. For better or worse the rest of Wild God (at least after my first couple of listens) doesn’t sound much like it, and didn’t land as immediately for me. I remember liking “Frogs” as well, and those two are the ones that most seem to tap into a similar vibe as the one I liked so much on the previous record (despite this being about very different things, as far as I can tell). But of course, that’s coming from someone who’s never sat down with the vast majority of the records Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds have put out.

Tim Clarke: Ian’s description of his relationship with Nick Cave closely aligns with my own. I always found his self-righteous preacher persona to be annoying, and none of the music that I’ve half-heartedly tuned into over the years has piqued my interest. This changed with Skeleton Tree, which I found very moving. The music closely aligned with the intensity of emotion in the vocals, rather than just being a platform from which Cave would perform atop, if that makes sense. Skeleton Tree led me to Ghosteen, Push The Sky Away and Carnage, all of which I enjoyed.

This one is a harder sell for me. The prospect of “happy Nick Cave” doesn’t resonate with my musical taste, so a gospel-leaning record about finding joy was already going to be a slightly uncomfortable experience... There are a few moments here that I enjoyed, many of which have already been flagged by you guys, but mostly this just makes me want to listen to Mercury Rev’s Deserter’s Songs, which works with a similar musical palette, but with much greater emotional resonance.

Justin Cober-Lake: I may be on the opposite side of the Cave listening spectrum than most of us. I listen to the Birthday Party less than any of his music, and I like the grandiosity. I think he does something unique (or at least in a unique way). He’s trying to make art — which plenty of rock musicians are — but in a way that doesn’t correlate to the usual paths for that. His lyrics tend to be either smart and poetic or simply pretentious, probably depending on your starting point. The excess and bombast is part of the statement (differing from either emo or show tunes or prog or whatever, though maybe Tom Waits’ blend of stage and, well, whatever he does, is a good conceptual pairing). I don’t see him doing either advice or preaching in his music or his “Red Hand Files.” I’m not sure what it is, maybe just talking to fans. It’s the Q&A part of a reading.

My stance on all that sets up my listening to Wild God, which while ostensibly “happy Nick Cave,” only sort of is. It’s an album full of violence, death, and the acknowledgement of not just our mortality, but of our decline on the way to the end. From that ground, Cave finds places of transcendence, none of which fully hold up, but all of which get us through. There’s some kind of peace tucked into these emotional swells, a steadiness within the surges. That strained position gives the album much of its power. Freed of innocence but willing to be open allows the album to find real, earned hope and joy; and “joy” here doesn’t scan as a synonym for “happy,” but for something deeper, maybe closer to “at peace with all the destruction,” like a reed bent but always returning to its upright position, even knowing the next storm is coming.

Jonathan Shaw: I hear that, Justin. There are moments in earlier Cave that are big, emotionally and musically, that work really well. “The Carny” from Your Funeral... My Trial is a good example, and I have a long-running and passionate attachment to that whole record. When it’s an interesting musical move, I can get with opulent bombast (Klaus Nomi’s “Total Eclipse,” for instance).

I hear the reading of joy you provide in the song “Wild God” — a variety of “late style” Cave, in Edward Said’s sense of the phrase. It’s one of the stronger tracks on this record, not as good as “Song of the Lake” (lotsa bombast, and I have come to really like the tune) or “Frogs,” but good. On “Joy,” I don’t hear strain or struggle or even cussedness in the face of loss and decline. It’s too close to schmaltz, and the references to his recent grief strike the wrong tone for me. Can’t handle the part about “angry words” and “stars.” It’s true that we can’t subsist on anger alone, but exhausted metaphor ain’t gonna do the trick, either.

Jennifer Kelly: It’s interesting to me that choir music is not something that Cave discovered recently and in fact he was in the choir at his church growing up. This Ann Powers interview explores his connection with church music.

Justin Cober-Lake: My thoughts are starting to diverge with the conversation, so let me throw out points related to the last two comments and we can go whichever way it takes us.

Jonathan, I took a listen to “Joy” out of context with your thoughts in mind, and I think you make some fair points (even if I do like the song on its own). The album really works best as an album, though, and “Joy” has its slot there (notice for example how many songs include lines that reference previous songs). Even alone, though, the joy is entirely couched in an awareness of death, and teenaged death at that (assuming my reading of “giant sneakers”). I realize that doesn’t make the rest of it treacly, but it provides an essential element that keeps it from getting stupid, at least for me.

Jenny, thanks for sharing that interview, which is absolutely fascinating. I’ve long been interested in Cave’s relationship to religion. His spiritual language, even in unbelief, carries a particular potency that isn’t just shared Christian literacy. There’s an existential element to his work that really resonates, and Wild God feels like a particular manifestation of that, more openly... agnostic? Curiously agnostic? Maybe the religious work here, both in the words and in the choir, help direct the bombast and potential schmaltz into something that I find incredibly effective.

Tim Clarke: Thanks for sharing that interview, Jenny. I had no idea Dave Fridmann worked on the album. I can really hear it now. That epic, overblown, overwhelming quality that he achieved with The Flaming Lips’ The Soft Bulletin back in the late 1990s.

Bryon Hayes: I honestly thought I’d have more to say about this album since I consider myself a Cave fan and have dipped in and out of his canon over the decades. Judging by the profound discourse thus far, many of you have fairly strong feelings about Wild God, whether they be positive or not. My own response has been surprisingly muted. Cave’s albums usually stir emotions in me; I’m usually quite moved by his lyrical themes, most obviously on Skeleton Tree and Ghosteen. This album just seems to sit in my head and doesn’t really punch me in the gut. Maybe I’m turned off by “happy Nick Cave,” as Tim mentioned previously. The thing is, I keep going back to it. I enjoy listening to Wild God, I'm just not immersed in it. I do think that Dave Fridmann’s work on the album is bringing up some nostalgia for those classic Flaming Lips and Mercury Rev albums, though. His influence is one element that I find to be endearing on Wild God, and I would definitely be interested in hearing Cave and Fridmann work together more.

Christian Carey: Here’s a quote from Cave to close things out: “All my songs are written from a place of spiritual yearning, because that is the place that I permanently inhabit. To me, personally, this place feels charged, creative and full of potential.” — Nick Cave

[feverinfeveroutfic]

The Hungry Lion Throws Itself on the Antelope | Kinktober 2024 | “rumor has it”

prompt: trying something new

pairing: alex/portia

word count: 2411

song: “fifteen feet of pure white snow” by nick cave and the bad seeds

Once Portia and I were back at the house, it was somewhat after noon, and therefore, lunchtime. I was more than eager to have more soup, or at least something that was warm, especially with the sight of the snow banks on either side of the road as we meandered back to up the house atop the mountain. A nice big bowl of soup with one of the cannoli from inside the box on the seat right behind me. I looked over at her and the way that she kept her fingers curled around the rim of the steering wheel.

She was quiet all the way back to the house, and every so often, she glanced over at me to check on me and to show me a smile before she returned her attention to the road ahead of us.

And yet, she seemed a bit distracted, like there was something on her mind that she was wary of sharing with me. I couldn’t explain it but I felt as though I had done something wrong at some point. In fact, she was quiet on the ride up from Hollywood back up to the desert.

It was a feeling that I had not experienced before, and thus, I had no idea as to what to say to her. But it nagged at me like one of those itches that never went away no matter how much I gently rubbed at it. As a result, we rode home in silence.

She reached up to the visor and pushed the button to open the door of the garage, and we rolled down the driveway inside of there.

She switched off the car, and I unbuckled my seatbelt. For a second, I believed that she was going to say something to me, but she never did. I had to break the ice here. I had to say something to her once we got inside the house. The silence was driving me up the wall.

Portia set the box of donuts and the bags of cannoli and rugelach on the kitchen counter, and instead of turning to face me, she held still there with her hands rested upon the counter’s edge. I swallowed and held back. I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that I had done something stupid, or that I said something to her that came out wrong. I clasped my hands together and gingerly strode on up behind her.

As I came closer, she bowed her head a bit, like she could sense me there next to her.

“Everything okay?” I asked her in a soft voice.

Portia lifted her head and raised her eyebrows at me. “Hm?”

“Is everything okay?” I asked her again, and her face fell. She turned her attention back to the pink box and the two bags next to her, and then she shook her head and hurried past me back to the living room.

I followed her in there, but I also had my doubts about doing that. As far as I knew, she just wanted some time alone. I held back at the threshold between the carpet and the hardwood floor. I watched her go to the couch, where she set her hands on the tops of the cushion and bowed her head.

I turned my attention back to the kitchen, and I decided to gently lead her into this.

I doubled back to the counter for our pair of rugelach on a plate, the chocolate one for me and the poppy seed one for her. Carefully, I ambled back to her, and I sat down on the cushion to her right. I showed her the plate; she lifted her gaze to the one with the seeds and mouthed “thank you” to me. She sniffed the edge of the pastry but she didn’t take a bite.

She locked eyes with me, and I could see something in her eyes. Something that I only ever saw in myself whenever I looked in the mirror and frowned at my nascent gray hairs and my buck teeth.

“I feel like I’m doing something wrong here,” she blurted out to me in a low voice, and I held back at the sound of that. Part of it had to do with the fact that she said it with such haste, but also because I never thought she saw herself in that way before.

“How so?” And I gestured for her to take a seat next to me on the couch. She did on my left, but she never leaned back against the couch. She held the rugelach with two fingers, a far cry from cradling the one in the bakery in her hand. She kept her head bowed a bit so I could barely see into her eyes.

There was a pain here, a pain that I never could put my head around because it was all cosmetic with me; an angst that I wasn’t very familiar with but I could listen to her, nevertheless.

“What do you think you’re doing wrong?” I asked her in a soft voice, and Portia held the rugelach down onto her lap. There was a smooth egg wash over the top, and the poppy seeds were these little black pearls in the white cream. Irresistible and indulgent, even as I had chosen the chocolate,

“I have so many worries, if I’m honest,” she told me. “You know, I have my doubts and my fears, but…” She closed her eyes and breathed in deep. I cocked my head to the side.

“But what?”

“I worry about pushing you away and making you uncomfortable,” she confessed, and I could hear the tears in her voice. “I try to talk about this… this thing that I feel.” She gestured to herself with her free hand, and her face tensed up with the tears. “This way that I am. And I feel so odd saying it out loud, too, like it makes me clam up. I don’t like talking about this, much less exhibiting it on someone else, even if it gets me off. On the drive back, I was just thinking it over and over again, like what the hell am I doing to this boy. This cute sweet boy. What am I doing with him. But I can’t throw him out because I just can’t.” She sniffled and turned her head away from me. I held back for a second, and I struggled to find the right words.

This was all so new to me on its own, but now I was having to stare down a girl with some pain attached to it all, too. I was a guy, therefore an automatic sucking at talking about feelings. Maybe I was uncertain about all of this, too. Maybe I should be the one questioning myself instead, and I wondered where she and I could go from there.

But I had to act.

I thought about my parents and the way they studied society at large. Maybe this was just a small fraction of something greater, something greater than me in particular.

“Have you never really talked about to someone else before?” I asked her at a slow pace. “Or rather, have you talked about this before to someone who you know? Does anyone else know about any of this?”

“No,” she replied with another sniffle, and she brushed away a tear with her free hand. She never looked on at me when she said any of this, but I wanted her to look at me. This obviously meant a lot to her, then she would have to look at me. “My parents are no help and my brother actually wants me institutionalized for it.”

I gaped at her. 

“Really?”

“Yes. He thinks there’s something wrong with me because I’m too complex for words. At the same time, none of them understand it when I try and tell them that this is how I feel. You know, I get lectured on how eating too much is unhealthy and I could have someone killed because I made them eat too much. My brother is especially bad with that, spreading awful rumors about me about how I’m a sick fuck and I’m an abuser.” Her face then fell. “It makes me hate myself, actually,” she continued. “It makes me ashamed of myself. It makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me. I feel like I’m not attractive enough and like there’s something wrong with my body.”

“Oh, my god, really?” I gaped at her, and then it clicked. She nodded, and that time, she lifted her head and looked on at me. The tears in her bloodshot eyes told me everything all the while. I inched closer to her as she turned her attention away from me once again, and all the while, she kept the rugelach cradled in two fingers.

“Well…” And I grappled to find the right words. Maybe I should have been a bit more assertive about all of this before. Maybe I should have done something else in this short time that I had been there.

“Is there something that I can do?” I asked her in a near whisper. “Something that I could help you with?”

“Getting rid of these fucking feelings,” she sputtered with another sniffle and a wiping of her tears away with her free hand. “I wish I didn’t feel this way. I wish I didn’t have this… inclination, I would call it. It would get my brother off my back and I could talk about the rest of me freely, both to other people and to you, too.”

Portia then shifted around to face me right as another tear fell from her eye and onto her jeans.

“I feel like I’m hurting you,” she whimpered to me, and I shook my head at her. “I’m hurting you and what I feel is ruining my life.”

“You aren’t!” I assured her. “You’re not hurting me. Come here—” I opened my arms for her, and I held her close to me. I rested my chin on her shoulder and closed my eyes. I could feel her through my chest and my hand. I could feel the way her heart beats and the rhythm of her body. 

All the while, we never let go of our rugelach.

I held back and looked into her face. Seeing her cry coaxed a hard feeling in my throat, and I was going to let it flow through me should it come to that point on my end.

“It’s just… new to me is all,” I confessed to her with a shake of my head. “New and odd.”

“But you don’t mind it all, do you?” she asked me with a slight raise of her eyebrows at me.

“Actually, no. I like that we’re eating well, and I like that you’re focusing on me like this, too.”

“You don’t find it gross at all?” she asked me in a soft voice.

“Gross? Why would I find it gross? If anything, I find it funny.” I inched closer to her, and I kept my hand on the crest her shoulder, but I never touched her lower than that. I needed her to have her space, even if she cuddled up next to me. “I find it kind of interesting, too.”

“You think so?” she asked me in a small voice, and I leaned in closer to her. I still never touched her below the crest of her shoulder but I flicked my gaze down to the rest of her body. It was baffling to me that she didn’t think she was all that attractive, because I wanted to touch her and feel her even more.

“I kind of like that… you feel this way about me, too. Because—” I lifted my hand away from her shoulder and rested it on my belly; I was feeling hungry again, and I was craving the rugelach awaiting me upon my lap, but she had to hear me. “—I should tell you that my stomach is actually very delicate, and… I don’t know how to say it, either, but you don’t really think of people being attracted to this part of your body, either, especially when it’s kind of soft like with me. I get it with a six pack, but not this.” I patted my belly, and then I tucked one half of the rugelach into my mouth. The chocolate was soft and sweet, just like her.

I swallowed, and then I nudged a lock of hair out of her face so I could look into those bloodshot eyes and her tear-stained face.

“If I’m honest, it makes me feel a lot better about myself,” I continued in a low voice. “Before you showed up, I was relentless on myself.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. Portia, no girl wants to sleep with a guy who’s prematurely gray and has big horse teeth. I was sure of it.”

“And then you met me,” she said in a soft voice.

“And then I found you.”

She sniffled. “You sure about that?” Even through the tears, I could see it in her eyes.

“Sure about what?”

“That no girl wants to sleep with a guy who’s going gray prematurely and has big horse teeth,” she echoed me in a hoarse voice, and she chuckled at that last part. Portia then leaned into my face for a soft kiss on my lips, and she held one hand onto my knee all the while. I leaned back a bit, and it was like a bolt of lightning shot up my spine.

“You are so sweet,” she said to me. “And you taste like chocolate.” She sniffled again, and then she took a little nibble of her rugelach. She shook her head at the taste of it.

“Good, huh?”

“As sweet as you,” she told me, and she kissed me again once she swallowed it down. “I’m still so raw, though.”

“If it makes you feel better, I am, too,” I assured her in a low voice. “And this is the first relationship I’ve had where pain was our common ground. My previous one never went that deep.”

“Pain and love in your belly, too,” she added with a chuckle, albeit one where tears streaked down her face again.

“I can drink to that,” I said as I took another bite of rugelach.

[charlie-francis-spring]

Dealing with mental illness can be hard when no one believes you can look after yourself :-( how did you feel when you found out that Tori told Nick he wasn't good at looking after you at the bonfire

it can, yeah. there's a sort of?? really heartbreaking feeling when that happens? especially if you realise that someone you trust sees you more like a child that needs to be cared for rather than a person with feelings who wants to be heard and understood.

but with tori, it's more like...i've grown up with her, i know her, and when she uses the big sister magic, she's just looking out for me. she wants to protect me, i know she isn't just taking care of me because she sees me incapable of it. i admit it stung a little to hear that she said that to nick, but overall that was only one part of it.

nick helps me a lot. i can't imagine where i would be mentally without him, if i hadn't met him, if he hadn't protected me from ben, helped me through it, made me so much happier than i've ever really been, yknow? but what she said planted a seed of doubt in his mind aswell that day. don't get me wrong i love her and i know it came from a good place!! but when you hear something upsetting like that, you're bound to worry on it and feel bad about yourself in the long run :(

nick has his own problems to face, his own life to keep up with, and he helps me more than i ever could've wanted. there are a lot of things i still need to deal with but at least some of that will happen over time without external assistance, and i would never expect nick to help me get over all of it. and there will always be more.

getting better takes...time :')

overall i kind of just uhhhh...yeha i appreciate her looking out for me, but i don't completely agree with what she said.

thankyou for the ask <3