xgoldxnhour

[xgoldxnhour]

WHEN HARRY MET SALLY (1989) dir. Rob Reiner

[xgoldxnhour]

When you love something, you'll spend your whole life trying to understand it.

TWISTERS (2024) dir. Lee Isaac Chung

[xgoldxnhour]

What’s currently playing at Better Days

[xgoldxnhour]

@xgoldxnhour

[xgoldxnhour]

• "There’s glitter in my hair, on my clothes, and somehow, in my coffee. This is chaos." (Sam - Redwood verse)

@mettleborn

The sight before them looks like the North Pole ransacked their place and threw up Christmas cheer and tinsel. One day normal, the next day, it was as if she was possessed by the Spirit of Christmas and finally returned from the yuletide Poltergeist.

The Silas home is decked to the nines with lights, stockings, ribbon and a homemade garland out of paper rings. Even Seamus and Pumpkin were alotted with ribbon collars and little felt reindeer antlers. As if coming to, Eloise looks around at her surroundings, seeing that the Sheriff was indeed covered in glitter. Sucking her lips ins, El tries to keep herself from laughing, failing miserably as usual as she reaches to cover her mouth. All she can express are her muffled snorts and giggles.

"Well, aren't you festive." She hums, biting down her lip with a squinted apologetic look. "I may have gone a smidge overboard." Reaching to ruffle through his hair, she's a soft mist of fake snow and glitter, forcing her into another puddle of laughter.

"I'm sorry--can I..." Reaching into her pocket, guessing that Sam only assumes will be met with more glitter, El pulls out a plant wrapped in ribbon. "--Make it up to you with some pocket mistletoe?"

[xgoldxnhour]

The view before them is one oddly comforting and familiar despite the tumultuous waves they cross to merely return to one another. Sat by a fire, comforted by the cool breeze and a chorus of crickets that have survived along with them. Whether it's their swan song, howver, is up to them.

It has become obvious the man she has come to love, a leader burdened with responsibility unasked by carried without question--she has come to love Atlas--the man who carries the world on his shoulders--but her voices grows hoarse and silent from begging to share the burden. Whether it's trust or this baring, halting belief he has given himself that he must lead without fear, he stands with it alone.

Though a relief overcomes her, lungs filled with air after what felt like hours, or even days of harsh, frantic breath. She can breathe with ease when they sit like this, hand in hand, face held in his grasp. When they can ignore the world for just a few more fleeting moments, breathing comes easily.

They are fools, maybe it is true. "It's a cruel world, isn't it? Aching bellies and digging graves." There's a mirthless laugh as the truth no longer holds much sting anymore, just that tugging gnaw in the hole its left in good people. "But shouldn't that mean--that maybe love is even more precious--and...and necessary? That perhaps, it's the only thing left to live for." Love looks different--it's allowed to look different. The love Rick has for his children, to teach and protect and sheild away the world torn away from them. Is he not afraid for them too? Or anyone? What makes that different to them? "Y'know, I was once told that bravery didn't mean you had to be fearless, but to act in spite of fear. I'm sure plenty of what we do--did--still hope for---was out of spite. We are sure as hell living out of spite of it too, aren't we? Who's to say we can't love out of it too."

She turns to look at him, his profile glown in fire light. This--to her--feels like the real him. The real Rick Grimes, vulnerable, unafraid to share his heart nor of what he truly wants. Much like living, why can't love be their greatest act of rebellion. "Rick--look at me." She waits, now reaching for his face, fingers nestled in his beard. "You're a good man--a good father, a good leader--I'm sure you were just as good of a deputy and husband. I don't need perfect--no one's askin' for it. No one's askin' ya to not be afraid." Her lips purse, taking in a long breath. Whether this is truly the end of their love, at least they can know it was real.

"Of course, I hate it. But we don't have to face it alone. Look at Glen or Maggie, or anyone that's choosing to fight for their love. No one calls them weak for it--or fools. Hell, I'd even be wild enough to say it made them stronger. So, why can't we? Let me help, Rick. Please. I--I can...help you carry the world."

The tears begin to brim, streaming down her cheeks as she finally releases to wipe them away. Another breath, this one a bit colder--afraid that he'll just retreat once again. "Only if that's what you want. I don't want to fight ya anymore. I'm tired of beggin'." She looks at him once again. "You can trust me. I can carry a whole lot more than I look."

@xgoldxnhour continued from here

Somehow the fire didn’t feel as warming as it should be cause the empty space next to him was leaving an inner cold he couldn’t escape from. Why could he always handle dangerous situations so well as a leader but fuck up these moments with the person he loved simply because he couldn’t handle his emotions? Was he really that weak? Maybe he had to accept that he couldn’t control everything but for someone like him that simply seemed impossible. Instead he was drowning in the guilt of ruining this. Ruining these rare moments he had with her in an illusion of peace where everything that should matter should be them being together. For them finding each other in this fucked up world. But it was hard for Rick to focus on these little moments. Taking one day at a time when it felt like he had to carry a burden and responsibility for everyone else he counted as their family.

With one knee up he sat there in silence for god knows how long. Staring into the flames and losing himself in the way they danced while everything was so goddamn silent out there. It was only the crackling of the fire that filled the room until he heard her steps approaching. With his index finger he brushed along his eye to keep his tears from falling before he turnt his head to her with a regretful glare. Rick couldn’t help it but when he looked at her beautiful face lightened up by the fire so ever softly he had to smile, even if it was a weak one that could break hearts. Lightly he shook his head and offered her his hand so he could lead her down to the ground with him to fill the emptiness she had left.

“We’re both fools Eloise. Me just as much as you cause we love each other in such a troubled world. One that doesn’t handle what we have very well anymore or maybe it never did… I don’t know anymore.” Nothing of it changed the bitter truth though and Rick knew no matter what consequences would await them or how many times they’d fight, nothing of it would ever change the most mesmerizing love he had for her. “I am sorry. Sorry for making you feel that way.” he hushed those words while still holding onto her hand, his other palm reaching for her face to gently stroke along the strains of hair he had to tug behind her ear to look into her eyes clearly.

“Listen, you might be a fool for loving me just as I am since the moment I laid my eyes on you for just a second too long. This is not on you it’s just that it feels like I just can’t afford to be that foolish, selfish and free anymore. Not because I don’t want to, but because the consequences scare the shit out of me and I can’t be scared anymore. I don’t want to be scared anymore. How can I protect what is so dear to me when I’m just a scared coward?” It hurt to admit it. Hurt to look at her and not give her the safety he wanted to provide and would have provided before this world had gone to shit. “I feel like… I can’t give you what you need and deserve. And I hate that. I hate it so much because I want to be the best version of myself for you and I’m clearly not.” Rick noticed the way his hands were trembling and out of shame he pulled them away from her, fiddling nervously with his fingers when he stared back at the fire. “I hate this. The world we’re in. What it made of us. What people like you have to endure to stay alive. It’s not what you deserve. What any of us deserves. And still I can’t change it. I hate how powerless it makes me feel. But can’t you tell me you just hate this just as much as I do?”

[xgoldxnhour]

Too close too fire, too close to being burned and yet they toed the line in excess. One look, one smile, one kiss, one afternoon turned to many. Promises like the one for tonight for just a drink that will most likely end in another 'one' into many. Whatever they carried, whisked away by moments started to look an awful like love. Oh, how the past would be laughing at them now with tickling laughs and parting glances--how it turned into something so primal, desperate and secretive. And yet, even deep in the sin, there was love--unburned and unsaid, but present nonetheless.

And quietly in love, 'the death of him' basks in the view as the illustrious Thomas Shelby returns to spot lights and the ever present gaze that comes with that sort of fame, leaving the artist to bask in the aftershock for a moment longer.

The guilt is only fleeting until she enters the hotel bar once again, a two piece dress of silk and sulfurous intent--their drinks already waiting on the counter alongside the sketchbook requested and promised. The vault of what lays on her mind, which seemed to be quite consistent as of late. Despite the welcoming muse in her position, the artist has refrained from painting these last few weeks and has resorted back to mere sketches and concepts. What art they share their moments of intimacy have been private and singular, one she isn't quite willing to share with the world just yet.

There, waiting, she already is sketching away her view of the bar counter and bottles on display in criss-cross manner. Quick and reckless, but still manages to express its source. Another quick addition of the glass before, glass melting and stirrer eloquently positioned. The artist returning to her natural habitat.

@xgoldxnhour continued from here

He had missed her. That’s what he thought when he looked at her during the aftermath. The way she smiled, the way she stared right back into his soul and touched him so ever kindly when she should send him to hell. It was the way she smelled, the way she moved beneath the sheets with him. The way she kissed him and led her hand through his hair that all made him realize how much he actually wanted her. Not right now. Not for a fuck. But how he actually wanted her because he was utterly in love with her.

“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous le roux. And you’ll be the death of me.” She was the fire that burnt him alive and sent him straight to hell. A hell he was ready to enter for her as the punishment for his mistakes. Whatever it may take he was ready to do it and he sealed it without saying that by a kiss to her lips that made him bend down to her again cause his hand was long lost in her hair to tug it and release some of the frustration this woman and his love brought him.

“Invite me for a drink then. Tonight. And bring your little sketch book.” With that said he turnt away to get dressed, a smile thrown over his shoulder when he left and went back to the studio.

[xgoldxnhour]

I plan to get to drafts this weekend, my babies 🫶🏻

[xgoldxnhour]

LOL NO WAY

[xgoldxnhour]

MARIE ANTOINETTE (2006)

dir. sofia coppola

[xgoldxnhour]

LITTLE WOMEN (2019) dir. Greta Gerwig

[xgoldxnhour]

artist: haley tippmann

[xgoldxnhour]

Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead (1991) dir. Stephen Herek Sue Ellen “Swell” Crandell | Outfits

[xgoldxnhour]

Frances Ha, 2012 — dir. Noah Baumbach

[xgoldxnhour]

[xgoldxnhour]

Twilight (2008) dir. Catherine Hardwicke

[xgoldxnhour]

When Harry Met Sally… 1989, dir. Rob Reiner