“Message in a Bottle is about Harry Styles…”

Harry in 2012… When the song was written:

Not a single freckle on his face. 🙃 Cause he doesn’t have freckles and this song isn’t about him.

///

“it’s not about Zac Efron!” 🥲 Zac is the only one with freckles and sparkly bright eyes while the song was recorded/written same day he was in London

Tolerate It II

"What would you do if I break free and leave us in ruins?"

Read Part I here

Quite frankly, Harry isn’t sure how much longer he can take this. He listens to Y/N’s request for space for all of 4 days.

On Sunday, Harry finds the whiskey he put away when Elle was born. He finishes the bottle. 

On Monday, he works himself into a frenzy looking at pictures of Y/N at their wedding. The smile on her face sends him spiralling as he realises he hasn’t seen her smile like that in a while. 

On Tuesday, Anne calls him and boy does she let him have it. She doesn’t yell but she knocks some sense into him and Harry’s heart breaks. She tells him Y/N has barely said two words since she arrived and if he doesn’t act soon, he’s going to lose the two things that are supposed to be most important to him.

So he breaks out his rock records, blasting the music as loud as he can to drown out the screaming voices in his head telling him that he’s lost his wife forever. Oh and he also drinks himself into oblivion. Again.

On Wednesday afternoon he’s hungover and slightly delirious. And so naturally, he texts her. 

Harry: Y/N I’m so sorry my love. I hope you and Elle are ok at mum’s. She told me you were there. I know you might not be ready but I’m here when you want to talk. I’ll be home for the rest of the week love. Come over when you’re ready. 

He waits by the phone like a lovesick teenager for 20 minutes, almost falling off the bed when the status of the text changes from delivered to read. He waits for another 20 minutes willing for the three dots to appear and when they don’t, he turns the music back on, quieter this time, ignores the pounding in his head and closes his eyes. 

He sleeps the rest of the day away, waking around noon on Thursday, his heart jumping out of his chest when he sees a new message notification. He sighs dejectedly when he realises it’s not Y/N, his eyes widening as he realises the text is from Kendall.

Kendall: We need to talk H. I’m so sorry about the articles. I’m on my way over, hope you’re home.

Harry rubs his faces tiredly before forcing himself out of bed. Kendall is the last person he wants to see right now but he knows there isn’t any point in telling her not to come if she’s on her way. 

So he cleans (barely), shaves and showers, in an effort to make it seem like he hasn’t been living on his couch and off takeout for the past few days.

There’s a knock at the door and Harry drags his feet over to the front door. 

“Hi…” The woman at the door speaks in an almost whisper, timidly shifting from foot to foot. 

Harry thinks his mind is playing a sick joke on him. 4 days of drinking his life away and he’s suddenly seeing visions. But the woman in front of him doesn’t seem to disappear no matter how many times he blinks and so he comes to the conclusion that she must be real.

“Y/N? I... What are you doing here?” Is all he can think to say. As soon as the words are out of his mouth he regrets them. He winces as his wife’s face contorts into a look of hurt and slight annoyance. 

“What am I doing here? In my house? Good god Harry I left for space, I didn’t move out. Can I come in or are we going to keep having this conversation in the doorway?”

“I didn’t mean- Of course come in love. I just didn’t expect to see you so soon.” He steps aside to let her through and follows her as she walks to the couch and takes a seat. He sits beside her and the silence is loud.

“So…” Y/N begins, shooting a tentative look at Harry who’s looking at her intently. 

“How’s Elle? I miss my little bug. I’ve missed you both.” 

“She’s good. Loved the extra grandma time the last few days. I’ve missed you too H. But we need to figure this out before we keep going. I don’t know how many more chances I can give, I don’t know how many nights I can stay up waiting, hoping for you to call. I shouldn’t have to hope you’ll call, you’re my husband you should want to call.” Y/N sighs, wiping her hand over her face quickly to stop the tears from falling. Harry intertwines their fingers squeezing her hand in his. He does it twice more and Y/N gives him a watery smile. It was something they used to do when they were first married; whenever they were in public they would squeeze each others hands three times.

 I. Love. You. 

He lifts her hand to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it. 

“Y/N, I fucked up. Multiple times. I haven’t been there for you and I wish I could tell you that it’s simply because work was mental but I was overwhelmed and so I looked for distractions. It’s no excuse I know that. But I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone and sometimes I wish I didn’t love you so much because I need you like oxygen. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’ve been an idiot to take you for granted. I’m going to be home by 5 every day from now on I promise. We’re going to have dinner together every night. We’re going to get a nanny so that you and I can go on dates like we used to. I’m going to-“

“Slow down cowboy.” Y/N grins. A bright smile that reaches all the way to her eyes. 

“We’re going to be ok?” It’s supposed to be a statement but it sounds more like a question when it comes out of Y/N’s mouth. 

“We’re going to be ok.” Harry affirms. He leans in to kiss her, pulling back at the sound of the door opening.

“Harry? You home? The door was unlocked so I just came in. Oh! Y/N, hi.” Kendall’s stilettos click against the wooden floor as she walks into the living room, taking in the couple sitting on the couch. 

“I just wanted to come by to-”

Y/N cuts her off. 

“Did you invite her over here Harry? Is that why you were so surprised when I got here? For fucks sakes.” She looks heartbroken. 

Harry is silent. It isn’t what it looks like. He knows that, Kendall knows that. Y/N… doesn’t know that. It seems he’s silent for too long because Y/N is suddenly standing and grabbing her bag off the coffee table. 

“Kendall, get out. Y/N let me explain. Please love, after all we talked about you have to know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Kendall leaves, muttering a plethora of apologies as Y/N stares at him with red rimmed eyes, her bag gripped tightly in her hand as though she’s planning her escape.

“Two minutes Harry. You’ve got two minutes to explain yourself before I walk out this door and this time I won’t be coming back.”

Read Part III here

A/N: Thoughts?! All your comments and reblogs are appreciated I love youuuuu ✨🫶

Tags: @lukesaprince @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @kathb59 @indierockgirrl @bxbyysstuff @gills-lounge @lomlhstyles @opheliaofficial07 @behindmygreyeyes @gem1712 @stylesmoonlight12 @babyiamperfectforyou @harrysrockstarsgf

FICTOBER DAY 16- Burn in Hell

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warnings- mention of hell, demons, blood, daggers/knifes, witchcraft, toxic behavior bc he’s literally a demon, etc

----

“I hope you burn in hell.” Y/N spit, looking at Harry’s form with a sneer on her face. The demon snickered, approaching her with his cocky smirk that she wanted to smack right off his face.  He had disappeared for a month and a half, coming back to her shop after hours with a blood soaked dagger in his hand that was pulled over the throat of one of her friends, just moments ago. That was his greeting. 

“Oh, gorgeous, the words you say to me… You’re so romantic.” He cooed, not at all concerned about the dagger she had pulled from her dress. “I don’t feel like going home right now. Besides,I had to do it. You know I did, it’s part of my nature.” 

“He was my friend, Harry!” She yelled, pointing it at his chest as he approached her, hand shaking slightly as she looked at him, wild eyed and chest feeling like it was going to explode. “He was my friend and you just- you killed him. You killed him because you’re jealous, you think- you think he could make he happy?” Y/N’s laugh bubbled, not a real humorous one but one of contempt and grief.  

The demon’s demeanor darkened, jaw tight as he approached, letting the dagger cut his clothing as he began to back the witch into the shelf, the bottles of herbs shaking as she bumped into them. The tip of the blade was against his skin, but he didn’t care as his hand shot out to grab her face, roughly tilting it up. 

“He can’t do that. No one can make you happy, except for me.” His voice got darker, deeper, making her breathing catch. “You may have summoned me accidentally, but you fucked me. You begged for my cock, you begged for my seed inside of your cunt that drips just for me. You’ve taken me again and again.” He hissed. “You think that just because I go away for a month to do what I was made for means that I’m done with you? Do you honestly think… I’m going to let a man who wants you think he has any semblance of a chance?” The veins around his eyes darkened, eyes black as Y/N realized just how badly she had upset the creature. 

“H-How was I supposed to know you’d come back? You left a note, but you were gone for month and a half!” She whispered shakily. “That isn’t ‘be back soon.’ No communication , nothing.” Her hurt was obvious in her voice. “How am I supposed to trust you? You’re a demon, Harry. I summoned you by accident, yes, but I only know so much about you and your kind. There was- there was obviously some sort of chemistry, and I won’t have you holding our sex over my head.” 

“Holding it over your head?” He laughed. “No, that’s not what I’m doing. I’m proving a point. Providing you context. While I may apologize for not stating how long I’d be gone until I came back to you- I gave you some of my blood. You licked your lips of it, and you bonded yourself to me. I would always come back to you.” His face was deadly serious. Y/N hadn’t known that doing what would mean bonding them- she had wondered why he had seemed so happy after that, kissing her all over and spending the entire night worshipping her, calling her his- and a part of her wouldn’t be upset over it considering their chemistry but…. 

“You can not just kill people who had interest in me.” Her voice pleaded. “I have no intentions of- if what you say is true, and we’re bonded- I am a faithful woman. You don’t need to kill them.” 

“If you could hear his thoughts, Y/N… You would understand.” Harry replied. “Thinking about how much longer you’d take until you break and give into him. Wondering how you look under your dresses, if you’d be a good lover, what you taste like… No.” His voice was a hiss, broken up slightly in a truly demonic tone. “I will kill anyone with the intention of trying to take what belongs to me. I’ll do it over and over again, until I’m soaked with blood. I’ll take you in front of all of them before I do it, too. I do not care about their pitiful lives, lusting over a witch like yourself.” He took her dagger, pressing it to his throat. “They’d kill you if they knew the truth. That you were a true witch, not just an apothecary owner. That you begged for a demon to spill his seed inside of you, that you licked it off these sinful fingers and begged for more on your tongue. Humans aren’t ready to accept the fact. You’ll have to move to a new village soon when they wonder why you aren’t aging- none of them can be your forever. But I can. They aren’t good enough for you.” 

His voice softened, the demonic trill leaving as his eyes softened back to their mossy green. “It is in my blood, Y/N. You are my woman, and I am yours. Anyone who thinks of threatening it is going to be eliminated. You can’t kill me. You love me.” 

Y/N knew it was true, tugging the dagger from him and tossing it on the floor. “Please.” She whimpered. “I’ll be yours- But you need to be careful. If they find a string of murders, they’ll be suspicious and one of us will be blamed. Somehow. I can’t-” She had already thought she lost him once. She couldn't do it again.

“They can’t kill me, my ethereal beauty. My gorgeous little witch.” He shifted, touch on her chin gentle as he tilted her head up. “I’m invincible to humans. My powerful woman… They don’t know the power you hold, and how much we can do together now. Just let me take care of it. Take care of you.” His lips get closer with every word, capturing hers with the final sentence.

As he lifted her up to bring to her room, she couldn’t help but think it. What a match made in hell.

Burying the Not Quite Dead Chapter 2 Snippet

This one is a Kim POV chapter! Still looking for beta readers if anyone is interested. TWs for PTSD flashbacks, blood, descriptions of injuries, canon death indicated, Police Protocol

It takes a bit longer than expected to locate not only a hostel but also a restaurant nearby. The hostel was certainly larger than the Whirling n’ Rags in regards to the number of occupants it could accommodate but the amenities left much to be desired. In other words, no cafeteria this time. And to top it off, it seemed that this one was $25 reál per night vs the Whirlings 20, leaving Harry with only a few centims to his name as they return to the Kineema to track down a neon-lit vespertine diner that Harry had spotted a few blocks back.

Inside, the diner smells like coffee, cigarettes, and a variety of greasy foods. Even this late, it's fairly populated, idle chatter of patrons overpowering the crackling radio on the bartop counter that blocks off the kitchen from the dining area. The brightness of the room is almost overpowering between the neon decor and the fluorescent lights overhead. 

A heavy set messque woman looks at them as they enter. She sways from foot to foot as she tends to the large coffee drip machine on the row of counters. Her dark hair is pulled up into a loose bun but several strands have fallen loose. Her salmon-colored uniform is wrinkled and stained from the evening’s work. An unlit cigarette is perched in her lips. “Go ahead and seat yourselves, gents,” she shouts around the cigarette. Her accent is /very/ much from Faubourg.

The two officers find themselves sliding into the squeaking, vinyl-padded bench seats of a small booth table. A folding menu is propped up beside a small wire basket of condiment bottles and shakers. Kim looks to Harry to see if he’s going to go for the menu first but he isn’t looking. He’s busy taking in the details of the space, eyes lingering on bright flickering lights and new faces at other tables. The expression is very much like the one he wore when he first walked into the plaza in Martinaise. Everything is new to him. Kim wonders if it’s just curiosity or if it’s some kind of residual hypervigilance that he can’t mask in his current state.

He clears his throat and Harry snaps back to the moment. He reaches for the menu. “This is vespertine right? Is it any good?” he asks.

“It’s-” 

Kim is cut off by the waitress walking up and setting down two glasses of water. “Coffee, officers?” she asks.

They both give their affirmations more or less at the same time, creating a jumbled mess of syllables. She gets the message and speeds off without a word.

“It’s pretty good, I think. It tends to be a bit greasy so it’s not something I eat often,” Kim finishes his earlier statement. Harry nods thoughtfully as he turns his attention to the folder in his hand. He watches Harry look over the menu patiently and, without really thinking about it, reaches into his jacket and pulls out his notebook. The moment he pulls his pen free and clicks it, the other man glances up and grins when he meets Kim’s eye.

“Still working, Kim? I think I know what I’m getting,” the man smiles. That odd expression springs back to Harry’s face like it’s always belonged there. It doesn’t carry the visible joy or je ne sais quoi he thinks it does. In some situations, it’s been mildly unnerving. But now is not the time to speculate. Harry passes the menu to Kim as the waitress returns, setting down two ceramic mugs of steaming black coffee.

“Just call me over when you’re ready. My name is Mercedes,” she says. Her tone is somehow cheerful and painfully flat at the same time. Her dark eyes are distant and tired. As quickly as she arrived, she walks back toward the kitchen to grab a new plate that’s just been placed on the edge of the service window.

Kim is quick to decide and waves the woman back over so they can place their orders and carry on with their currently non-existent conversation. The two men both bring the mugs to their lips in near perfect sync when she turns to leave once again.

“So what happens now?” Harry asks. He's looking at the place where Kim had set his notebook on the table.

“With the case? Well, we compile our notes and the evidence lists and write up our reports. As I said in Martinaise, this is going to need to be long and detailed if we want to get everything across to the appropriate authorities in the courts.” He reaches for his notebook again and begins to flip through the pages. He'd spent a good deal of the time spent at Lena and Morelle’s apartment filling in as many details as he could remember regarding his primary and secondary case. The two were inseparable within the timeline that the writing had created. Primary case: ‘The Hanged Man’ aka ‘The Furies’. Secondary case: ‘Officer Unknown’.

The subject of case two responds with another question. “Do we /both/ need to write reports?”

“I would assume so given that two precincts are involved.”

Harry frowns and his brow furrows. This prospect is troubling to him. It only now occurs to Kim that he may not remember how to write investigation reports much like how he didn't understand his previous case files. 

“It's not unheard of for collaborating detectives to also work together on the report. I don't see why that would change for an interdistrict investigation,” Kim continues, holding the notebook open in one hand and holding his mug in the other. He takes another sip, enjoying the warmth filling his stomach. 

“Really? Can we do that? That would make it so much easier for both of us!” Harry’s expression is two parts relieved and three parts excited. Kim’s not sure he’s ever seen anyone excited about paperwork, especially not someone new to it.

Kim returns the enthusiasm with a smile of his own. It’s little more than a faint upturn on the outside but it is enough for Harry to dig into his blazer to retrieve his own pen and start pulling napkins from the holder on the table. The pen hovers over the makeshift page, the green monkey head bauble on the end staring unblinkingly across the diner.

“So how do we start?”

Kim glances toward the kitchen. He can just make out the shape of a semenese man in the kitchen through the service window as he rushes back and forth. In the dining area, there appear to be a couple other tables that have yet to see their plates, and another patron just walked in from outside. She receives the same greeting from the waitress that they had received. There’s no indication that their food will be arriving any time soon. 

The lieutenant takes another sip of his coffee and looks back to his notes. “I usually start with summarizing the evidence. After that usually comes witness testimonials and then a sequence of events regarding the investigation itself. Perhaps we divide and conquer? There is a lot to cover.”

Harry nods and waits for him to continue or provide some kind of instruction.

“If you have your ledger, you can start on the summary of the autopsy. I believe you still have a copy of the field autopsy report, right?”

The detective reaches into his blazer and pulls the bent ledger out of some inside pocket.

As he shuffles through the crumbled mess of paperwork, Kim returns to his notes. “The captains are probably going to want these typed up. Perhaps tomorrow I can bring a typewriter and we can keep working on this, once we get you into your apartment. I have a portable at home.”

Harry nods again, his brow furrowed as he does his best not to tear through the delicate material with his heavy hand. "Sounds good to me. You're the best, Kim," he adds, a smile cracking his facade of focus. 

"Hardly, detective. This should be a good refresher for you but I must warn you, I'm a bit of a stickler for grammar and spelling. My Junior Officers have complained about me marking up their reports and handing them back on more than one occasion." He doesn't hide the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. The memory amuses him. 

They work in a surprisingly comfortable silence as Harry's stack of napkins slowly grows. Kim has looked over his ledger enough to recognize his handwriting. It's heavy, sharp and dense with metaphor and prose. When he’d first seen it, he had almost been convinced that Harry was possibly some kind of author on the side; nothing Kim would have read in his time off but still. It's added to his secondary case notes. If he was an author before Martinaise, it hasn’t come up since.

On occasion, Harry prods his partner for descriptors of various parts of the process or of the cadaver itself. Kim is not nearly as conceptual with his phrasing, usually opting for just the blunt facts. Anything else has a tendency to be read as opinion, which the investigators aren't supposed to have. Opinions on facts are for the courts to argue about. 

When the waitress arrives with their plates, it becomes an awkward shuffle to move their work out to the way. Both detectives had chosen some kind of beef patty sandwich which came stacked high enough to require a skewer through their shining bun caps for stability and came paired with hot wedge chips heavily seasoned. 

The smell of the food seems to open up a cavern in Kim as he slips his notebook and pens away from prying eyes. It feels like the low fuel indicator just came on in the kineema. 

He slides his driving gloves off and slips them into one of the outer pockets of his jacket. Beneath the soft leather are thin, pale hands with long bony fingers. The nails are trimmed very short and in close proximity, look relatively thin and brittle. Around the nail beds are years worth of old scars, and even more notably, some dark scabs where there had been some more recent damage. 

It's a bad habit. One Kim has been trying to stave off since childhood. For the most part, he's been successful but old habits tend to come back under stress. The gloves help, not only with the picking but also with keeping his icy digits from freezing further and protecting them while on the job. They also happen to look incredibly cool when paired with his bomber jacket. 

Glancing at the detective's hands across from him, he recalls the days leading up to this arrest. Both hands are scarred, calloused, and nicotine stained. They're somewhat blocky in shape; strong. Kim knows they're warm. The webbed criss-cross of old scars slash across his knuckles. Even relaxed, the first two knuckles are prominent bony protrusions beneath his skin. A lifetime of fighting, he thinks. 

There's still a mottling of greenish grey and sickly yellow on the back of the left hand. A closer look might yield a puncture mark where Kim had had to place an IV after the tribunal. The entire ordeal had been a mess; from directing civilians through an emergency situation, to hauling Harry upstairs, to having to remove the bullet and stitch him up while the man howled In agony. Total shit show. Being freshly concussed, Kim knows he‘d made some poor decisions. 

Deep in his chest, far from his face and his dark eyes, there's a fresh bloom of guilt. They'd been in the middle of an active shootout, civilians were being killed and yet the moment Harry was hit, Kim had broken. He'd been overcome with memories and he panicked. He was standing one moment, and then on his knees applying pressure to the wound the next. 

Images old and new flash through his mind. Blood sleeping out past his fingers, sometimes through trousers, sometimes to a torso. "Stay with me." The words feel like they're permanently teetering on the tip of his tongue. Twice he's said that. Twice it failed to keep them awake. 

His own hands can still make out the phantom feeling of the forceps in his hand as he delved into the depths of the wound, the other hand keeping the leg still in case Harry came back to consciousness and began to thrash. 

He sees an old friend on an operating table through a window pane, his face ghostly pale as doctors swarm him like flies. He hears the doctor's voice echo in his ears when he’d come to tell him he didn't make it. The anguished cry of his poor wife... 

"-im?.. Kim?.. Lieutenant?" A gravelly voice comes crashing through the veil. 

Harry sits across from him at a booth in a diner in Central Jamrock. Or is this technically Le Domaine Eminént? He has a hefty sandwich crushed in his big hands and several bites taken from it. There are already crumbs in his mustache. His face is the picture of concern and his eyes are intense in their sincerity.

Breathe in. Breathe out. It's okay. Everyone is safe. We are present and in control. It's only been a few seconds. 

Kim blinks and meets his gaze as he returns to reality. "Hmm? Yes, detective?" 

Harry relaxes considerably even if the worry still shows through. "Thought I lost you to the pale for a second there. You looked like you were on another isola. Are you okay?" 

Kim glances at his food, untouched. His stomach is still empty but somewhere in the connection between his head and his stomach, his appetite has been lost. He picks a fried potato skin from the pile of chips and looks back to his temporary partner. 

The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly as he proceeds to flick the chip at Harry across the table. It pings off his face just shy of his nose, making him flinch. Once the mood is broken, his face splits into a lopsided smile that opens into a full laugh that shakes his shoulders.

Kim smiles back at that. Harry's laugh could be downright infectious under the right circumstances. It was full-bodied and warm, starting in the stomach and filling his barrel chest. It suits him well.

💌 a little soft something for tom’s birthday? maybe trader surprises him or something i dunno do whatever you feel <3 i just wanna celebrate him :((

“hey loser, can you get the doordash?”

tom rolls his eyes. 

“mate, it’s your food. and you didn’t even order anything for me!”

“you said you weren’t hungry,” zendaya furrows her brows, feigning shock. 

“spending my twenty-sixth with you in new york and you haven’t even the decency to get me a complimentary meal when i come back from filming,” he grumbles, though his expression is playful. zendaya is quick to spread her long legs on the empty space that tom’s left, much to his dismay. 

he’d been dead-tired after filming for a majority of the day, and although you weren’t there to spend his birthday with him, he was grateful that zendaya was around in the city. you’d be on your way within a few days. it felt like he was waiting an eternity lately.

“you can have a nugget!” she beckons after to him, but he’s already made way to the door. 

once he gets down to the lobby through the elevator doors,, the only thing that sits on the front counter is an happy meal box. it feels oddly empty. tom cinches his brows in confusion, looking around in the darkness, but there’s no sign of the doordash driver.

“think you got pranked, z,” he says when she scurries over to get her food. frowning, he looks inside. GO TO THE ROOF is scrawled at the bottom of the box in messy black letters.

“the fuck?” she looks over his shoulder. “this isn’t my chicken.”

“have you planned a hit on me or something?”

“you think i’d do that through fucking mcdonald’s?”

“well, why the fuck would--”

“i don’t know! maybe we should check the roof!,” z shrugs.

“mate, you know i hate jump scares--”

“i’ll go with you! maybe sony signed you up for some sponsored micky d’s and we’re about to get a lovely gift bouquet,” she snorts, dragging tom along despite his reluctance. he goes begrudgingly, not in the mood for a scam even if it happens to be a gift. mostly, he’s genuinely thinking about the ghost of those chicken nuggets. he sighs.

he’s mindlessly checking instagram on his phone in the elevator, scrolling through tagged photos and endless text messages and dms. the clock reads 12:01 pm. he wonders where you are -- you usually call him right on the dot each birthday. perhaps you’d gone to sleep already.

he’s stunned when the elevator doors open, jumping at the crowd in front of him.

“SURPRISE!!” everyone shouts, and right in front, you stand there holding a heart-shaped cake with his name on it.

“jesus christ,” tom nearly chokes, jaw dropping at the appearance of his co-stars, friends, and family swarming him. 

“love, i thought you were coming on friday!” he embraces you, buries his face into your neck to inhale your perfume. god, he hadn’t touched you in weeks. 

“i secretly booked my flight so i could arrive just on time!” you beam.

tom turns to zendaya, who casually snacks on french fries. “you little liar. doordash? really?”

“y/n is my personal doordash driver,” she shrugs.

tom exchanges hugs with harry and tuwaine and other friends, who have already started opening bottles of champagne to make a toast to him. his cheeks are flushed a deep pink at the amount of attention he’s getting --ironic considering he’s a big-time actor, but his somber mood from quite literally fifteen minutes before had flipped inside out completely. all because of you.

he watches you as you talk to others, barely paying attention to his brother’s words because god, you look so goddamn pretty underneath all these twinkling lights and he’s just in a pair of sweats. it’s like his brain has to rewire itself to remember that you’re his. you’re really his.

once there’s a lull in the conversation, he moves forward to grab you by the hips.

“sweet birthday baby!”

he blushes. “how did you manage all of this?”

“i’m a wizard,” you shrug. “a wizard that would rather die than not be with you on person on your special day.”

his mouth pulls into a smile that almost hurts. “i love you.”

“i love you. happy birthday, tommy.”

Madam is so overexposed I know more about her cooking/dietary habits than I could ever want to by u/Training-Jello7600

Madam is so overexposed I know more about her cooking/dietary habits than I could ever want to Wannabe foodie Meghan is my favorite of all her eras. It was right before Harry; she was desperately looking for her third (fourth? fifth?) act and sleeping her way into the Toronto food scene and writing some of the most godawful prose ever committed to page on that blog. I enjoy seeing someone so basic and cringe attempt to pivot from a lackluster acting career into an even more lackluster career as a foodie guru influencer.(As a side note, it’s telling and ironic that the most successful and uplifting content of her life was the “Together” cookbook, made when she was a working royal. Looks like the Palace knows what they are doing after all!)In honor of foodie Meghan, and in anticipation of whatever she’s about to unleash on us on her Instagram if it ever does indeed launch, I’ve compiled a perfect day of eating for the Meg.Breakfast:- For madam: After barking at her maids to clean up the broken crockery from the night before, she tucks into “A cup of hot water and a slice of lemon, followed by her favourite breakfast of steel-cut oats (usually made with almond or soy milk) with bananas and agave syrup for sweetness” (a line from the Pulitzer-winning “Finding Freedom”)For the three children (Todger Cream included): First a serving of inspirational bananas with messages such as “stay strong” (they’re gonna need it in that household!) on the peel. Then organic waffles on the Queen’s waffle maker. It’s shocking we don’t know the brand and that it hasn’t been merched yet, but there’s always time.Lunch:- A “mean bolognese” (Megain’s words), most likely Chef Corey’s recipe but repurposed for ensnaring Harry, who was impressed with her apparently amazing use of spicesFor the kids: In-N-Out milkshakes because she’s a cool relatable young mother of littlesSnack:- For the kids: Quesadillas served in a poverty backpack for the unhousedFor the man child: Vegetables from the garden and try-hard jam with Etsy labels that they haven’t been able to foist onto more unfortunate journos For Madam: A Clevr SuperLatte with a foam of trace lead and other earth metalsDinner:- Sushi appetizer for her while Harry sulks that there isn’t a steak option. He whines so much that she whips up her signature invisi-tacos a la Michelle Obama and puts Nando’s Peri-Peri sauce on them to remind him of the time she ate a three course meal while also on an epidural/bouncing on an exercise ball at the same timeAn engagement roast chicken for the main; Ina still hasn’t called but she’s holding out hope for a collabSome plant-based/pretentious sides with the latest pseudoscientific healthy merchable ingredients That f*cking lemon olive oil cake made with lemons from her trees (that if I hear about one more time I’m going to explode)Several bottles of Tignanello, our Saint’s ambrosia of enlightenment Late Night Snack:- Ozempic a la modeThere you have it! Let me know if I missed any of our Saint’s favorites. post link: https://ift.tt/mFKz8Ms author: Training-Jello7600 submitted: January 12, 2024 at 09:24PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

Curious what are you thoughts and take on Gold Rush. I noticed a lot of Swifties think Gold Rush is about Joe Alwyn (or even Harry Styles) but when you really sit down and read the lyrics, not just listen to them it doesn’t seem to be about either, but rather someone she had a crush on because the huge emphasis of “never” being the theme echoing throughout it. Since she dated both, it’s not them.

It seems to be a song that isn’t fictional (in my opinion; but a past experience), centred around a crush. I do not think the crush is ‘vain’ either — basically Taylor (narrator) has some slight denial of her feelings for Gold Rush boy. That said as progresses, the narrator (Taylor) ends up falling for them. The problem is, this person is so desirable, Taylor compares to them as Gold which is her imagery to showcase how he is so wanted. One person finds it; the rush happens, and more go looking for it. Although there is a problem here (“I don’t like a Gold Rush”) which means Taylor doesn’t want to compete with other women’s affections and desire for him. She wants them to love her, and her only and wants to be the one to love them only. This is Taylor expressing jealously, and she doesn’t feel comfortable with the thirst and desire they receive.

As the song goes on, Taylor falls more for him (red blush), he makes Taylor flustered, and it’s very obvious too cause her face will go red which she is aware of.

The song continues and she is now in the day dream haze (because she likes them): picturing them as a couple, “I call you out on your contrarian shit” which is being playful, and what she would do at dinners with friends. They’d also “walk around coastal towns” and people would fawn over them, because they make an adorable couple, with pure love.

More obvious pointers of her fallen for him (and crushing) is also the adoration, which she asks him “what is it like to grow up that beautiful, with your hair falling into pieces like dominos.”

By the end of it though, Taylor starts to wake up, and remember this is only a day dream. The day dream then starts to be erased. She’s not gonna call him out, the coastal town won’t get to fawn over them, etc.

By the end of the song, she dodges the siren call (production start), and didn’t “jump in” when she well could’ve (think, Treacherous; she avoids the danger this time). Even though she would love to be with him, as she’s fallen for him, she doesn’t, and it “can never be” …

This song is very reminiscent to Come Back Be Here to me, where she is in similar in denial for her feelings for someone she is crushing on, only for them to leave; and falls for them. Same with Message in a Bottle. She’s hypnotised by their eyes, and they leave her tongue tied. She thinks of them, and imagines being with them too, like Gold Rush. Very similar parallels, but only Message in a Bottle is willing to be more optimistic, even though she “terrified” also it seems that person has the same outwardly effect on her.

So I wouldn’t be surprised if the same muse who inspired Come Back Be Here, and Message in a Bottle is the same crush, who inspired Gold Rush.

i feel like it's obvious that gold rush, on the surface, describes a person she pointedly decides to stop fantasizing about... so i'm not sure where people are getting harry and joe from 💀 like. she literally describes some fantasies and then says they never happened, by her choice.

i don't personally think there was a specific gold rush muse, or at least it's not supposed to be obvious, and i don't think it's important either. i think it was taylor's homage to "you're so vain," a reflection on past relationships or "what ifs" that have defined major parts of her life, and also one of the theses of folkmore: she can immortalize her life, a relationship, a mere moment with her songwriting. she can turn real relationships into her legacy, but also things that never even happened into enduring "folklore."

170 - ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY

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Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

[click, static]

Well, welcome back to the fucking party, Birdie. Once again, telling me that a place isn’t safe.

Do you really think that I’m going to trust you? Do you really think I’m going to listen to whatever you have to say? Where the fuck have you been? I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve been talking to someone else—also through morse code, so maybe you know them but they…well, they have been at least a little more helpful than you.

And now you’re telling me that it’s not safe back home? Why would I believe you? I went to Denver and there was nothing there. Just ghosts in photographs and phantom concerts. And if you are telling the truth, and it’s not safe? Well, then, I have to go back, don’t I. I have to make sure that Harry’s okay.

Anyway. I’m only about forty miles from the house so…Harry, if you can hear me…put the kettle on, bring out that one bottle of whiskey you’ve been hiding for three years. We’ve got a lot to talk about.

[click, static]

decided to write different scenarios in different styles etc to see what sticks

He wakes up with a hangover like a bloody teenager and a headache so bad it takes his vision a few seconds to kick back in.

Everything’s blurry–well of course, he needs his glasses and then he can sort it all out.  He can find the things in the dark with his hands tied, but his glasses aren’t there because–something’s not right.  The table next to the bed isn’t right.  It’s not his.

He’s too old to be kidnapped, too old, too dusty, the opposite of his old best friend Harry who’d probably get himself kidnapped and then charm the fucker into taking him right back home.  There has to be a normal explanation, so he feels around on the strange table, slapping his hand on things.  Pills stick to his hand.  He’s sweaty and they’re all over the table.

His hand hits a bottle of something, nails bouncing off with a clanging noise, and thank God, he feels his glasses next to it, and now his hangover's still there but the world is back.

There’s a lot to take in:

The shameful blue pills scattered all over the table that isn’t his.

His name printed right there on the open container.  He’d asked them if they could prescribe the damn things without his name on it.  He doesn't have that kind of power.

The bottle is one of his bottles of good whiskey.  The cap’s off.  It’s empty.

The bed isn’t his.  Too small.

It’s sunny–too fucking sunny for a hangover like this one–and he hears the familiar birds chirping outside.  He hears the shower.  Someone’s showering in his empty house. The sound is on the wrong side of the wall.

And there on the wall opposite him: paint chipping where things have been removed, but something’s still there.  An old card; someone’s drawn a football on the front of it, and the ink is faded but the words are clear enough.  Happy birthday, Frankie!

Another paper, also faded.  Brentwood School Latin Award, 1993–

When he realizes it, it hits harder than the hangover.  

What in God’s name is wrong with me?

Birds, shower, something buzzing on the floor over and over.  He rolls over to grab it, to shut the fucking thing off.  Rolling over makes his head pound.  It’s someone else’s phone.

Messages are pouring in on the screen and each one feels like it’s inside his head, kicking his skull.  He can’t see what they say, only who they’re from.  Frankie.  Frankie.  Frankie.  Frankie.  Frankie.  Frankie.  Frankie.  Frankie.

A pale neck, head thrown back to finish his good whiskey without asking.

You’re a terrible fucking person.  But you know that, don’t you?  You act like you know.  You’re disgusting.

And you’re a real bitch, a real fucking bitch is what you are, sweetheart.

Is that all you’ve got?  All that and those pills?  I see worse on the internet every week. There’s whole forums with jealous women talking about me.

What’s a forum?

Jesus.  What’s a forum.  Have you got any more whiskey? 

The shower turns off.

Frankie

Missed call

He wonders if he should pick up next time.  Now you want my attention?  Well, now you’ve got it.

Footsteps in the hall.

Are you happy ? I'm drunk enough to say fuck it. I know this is what you’ve wanted.  You’ve never shut up about it.

Well, she wasn’t wrong.  She’d always been smarter than Frankie’s last one–but stupid enough to ignore the poor kid this morning.  Frankie Frankie

Frankie

Missed call

He hopes he hadn’t gotten drunk enough to run his mouth.  Tell her the reasons.

The footsteps get closer.

He puts his head under Frankie’s old, yellowed pillow.  He’s always been a fucking coward. 

Girl at Home isn’t about Zac. That was when the demo was recorded. Zac was single in 2011, and barely knew Taylor then just met her briefly a few times.

Come Back Be Here is about starting to fall for someone that you didn’t know you had feelings for, then realising they meant a lot to you after they left. That’s the whole point of delicate beginning rush, and not knowing much at all. Playing nonchalant because Taylor kept saying back then they’re not dating, or acting like she cares around Zac.

“Freckles and your bright eyes” Harry has green eyes but his eyes are no where close as Zac’s that are blue green and vividly bright. Harry doesn’t have freckles and you have to zoom in close up, to see a few sun spots on his face but they aren’t freckles. She never wrote about freckles on 1989 either.

Zac has freckles all over his nose and cheeks and the lyrics are “hoping it gets to you, where are you wondering if I’m ever gonna see you again”? Taylor still sees Harry even to this day. She hasn’t seen Zac since 2012. The last time being in August.

Zac was in New York and London around the time these songs were also written. Which contradicts and debunks the Harry theory because Harry was touring australia and already in New York the same time as Taylor making it factually and logically possible to be about Harry

okay so girl at home: you can’t tell me that the song being written in the exact same chords she taught him isn’t compelling. but i could see it being about some other gross dude— i think taylor wrote the song more about her growing sense of sisterhood then like, a single guy

come back be here: paragraph two could apply to harry just as well, especially since they literally had a weekend getaway in new york and then had to leave? like? that matches the first verse perfectly? and beyond that a) australia doesn’t fit the meter b) she talked a few times in 2012 about being afraid of putting to many identifying details in the songs and how that was messing with her process a bit, and i think naming all the cities harry had gone to would be one of those worrying identifying details c) i think it could easily be partially written about when he left la for new york, partially when he left new york for tour

i genuinely don’t care who message in a bottle is about because like. i don’t think it’s about a person i think it’s about a pattern of behavior? but even then, sometimes taylor flattens or embellishes the truth to make a better songs. like john mayer doesn’t have a gap between his teeth and i don’t think she was ever in love with taylor laughter, but it makes the songs better

also i just find it hard to believe taylor wrote a bunch of songs about a coworker rather than like, a guy she dated on and off for multiple years

Don’t Cry Over Spilt Milk

Chapter four.

I didn’t really want to go to this party but after Chelsea texted saying she was I started getting ready as soon as I got home. I didn’t tell my parents the news instantly, I was kind of still in awe and shaking so it wasn’t really the best time. Maybe at breakfast or something? I put on my signature outfit, some grey parachute pants that make way too much noise and a little black tank that honestly sometimes makes me feel quite insecure. I tend to try and block that all out. Well block it out of everyone’s view atleast. As I apply makeup to cover my acne and blemishes phoebe bursts through my bedroom door, she’s wearing a beautiful blue, sparkly suit and her hair is curled, I didn’t think she was one to dress up but honestly she can. Pulling my shirt down so it covers my stomach I shove on some white ankle socks and my sparkly crocs. I put on my pride pins and as she watches she starts to dig in her pocket. I turn to see what she’s doing and notice she is now adjusting an aroace flag pin on her blazer. We both smile and she jingles her car keys as we both run out.

“You wear that outfit everywhere Dew!” She laughs as she turns the key.

“Ahem it’s either this or overalls so deal with it!” We both laugh and drive off.

As I step through the front door I instantly recognise the house, it’s Harry’s. Harry Greene’s. This knot in my stomach instantly tightens and doesn’t until release Phoebe and I find Chelsea. I hold her in a hug that probably lasts more than what is socially acceptable. Finding the group we all go to find ourselves some drinks and snacks. I see a few familiar faces, Tori and her lot, some theatre kids, some of Aled’s friends too. His friends from Truham are instantly recognisable, mainly because they are the only openly gay couple in like the history of the school. I like them. I haven’t ever talked to them. I wish I could though. The knot in my stomach returns as we walk through the sweaty crouds. Despite it being quite cold out the house is so packed that everyone is all hot and sticky. Tying my hair into a little half-pony I nod to my friends that I’m going to get some air. I find myself in the observatory sitting on a lounge, there isn’t many people in here. It’s kind of the only quiet place in this giant house. Swiping up on my lock screen I frown as I see no messages. I usually expect to see some but with false expectations every time it honestly just makes me feel shit. This is a dumb thing to complain about when I literally leave anyone who messages me on read anyway.

I look up to see all the drama kids kinda crowded together in a huddle on the floor. I only recognise a few, I don’t have any friends In theatre, although it’s been my class for four years now. They hurry me over and I sit down to see a bottle.

“We’re playing truth or dare come on!” A bubbly girl butts in. She has frizzy orange hair that’s all curly. She starts off by spinning and I don’t know if someone is praying on my downfall or just by chance it’s me.

“Uh truth?” I say, starting to pick at my nails.

“Oo! Who do you like?” She sits up on her knees and now the whole circle is staring.

“Nobody..?” My voice trails off as I scan at everyone’s faces. The only one I really recognise is Kael’s, he’s the boy playing the Beast. I shrug and pull my gaze to the floor. After playing a couple rounds I insist I go.

As I try and find my way back through this maze of a house I run into Harry Greene.

Instantly covering my pride pins he steps towards me. “Enjoying the party Shaw?” He says like a drunken idiot, well he is.

“Uhm it’s fine.” I manage to come up with. Harry Greene is the definition of a “British chav”, he’s a rugby lad and consistently uses “mate” in every sentence. I try to leave the conversation, usually when he talks to me it’s just to torment, tease and even bully.

“Found any ladies to kiss yet?” He laughs to his lot.

I tower over him and cross my arms, “More than you’ve ever in your entire life.” I stand my ground but he continues, I just stand there. As he continues I notice I start to care a bit more with every word he says. In a daze of a teenage, overthinking mind he suddenly gets cleared out of view. I snap back out of a messy thought and notice he has been completely pulled to the floor. Nick Nelson, one of the two opening queer boys at Truham is staring at me, smiling. I shake my head to remember what’s going on and instantly start thanking him. Pulling my hand off my chest to wipe my damp eyes he pulls me into a hug, I honestly don’t know what is going on. All I can think about is everything Harry said. Just then and in the past. Everyday of year 8 comes back, him bullying me constantly everyday after school. Having to hide my red under eyes from my parents, crying myself to sleep, repeating everything he said to myself in the morning to remind myself I suck. I pull out of the hug and run outside. I knew it was a shit idea to continue going inside as soon as I recognised the house.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

This Dark Disposition: Chapter 19 - Midnight

Chapter 19 - Midnight

TW Violence 

The Next Evening

Harry had asked if Danielle would pick up Grace’s shift today because the blonde never showed up. Harry didn’t know why, and when he asked, Danielle replied, “this job isn’t for everyone.” Now, as she was closing for the evening, Danielle was washing glasses with the front door locked. When she first started working at the Garrison six months ago, she was directed by Arthur to never close with the door unlocked. 

Suddenly there was banging at the front door and Danielle paused for a second, wondering if she should open it. Then the banging continued. She walked over to the door and unlocked it. Tommy burst through the pub, past Danielle and all the way to the middle of the room where he organized a table and multiple chairs. Danielle didn’t say anything to him as they were still in the midst of their riff. Danielle could tell that Tommy was nervous, “Are you expecting trouble,” She asked. 

“Ya,”

“At this hour?”

“Midnight is as good as an hour as any,” Tommy checked his gun to make sure it was loaded. 

“What the hell is going on?”

“When the St. Andrew’s bell strikes midnight,” he put the gun on the bar counter, “Two IRA men are going to come through that door. They want the guns, Danny. And when they get what they want, they plan to kill me,” he walked behind the bar towards Danielle, “It's your job to stop that from happening.”

Danielle sighed and grabbed the gun, “what do you need me to do.”

“I just got the message myself, they want to meet here alone,” Tommy walked to the back of the pub and pointed to the back room, “you’re going to be in that back room, and I’m going to be sitting there,” he motioned to one of the chairs he had set up, “when I make a toast, come out with the gun, you don’t shoot, you just point, I’ll do the rest.” 

“Will you kill them?”

“No, the police want them alive.”

“The police know about this?”

“Just point, alright?” Then the pair heard the bell strike midnight, “go on, go,” Tommy pushed her towards the back room, grabbed a bottle of rum and took his seat.

Danielle heard the two men come in but she couldn’t make out all of what was being said. Then she heard Tommy say a little louder, “May you be in heaven for half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead.”

Danielle walked out of the room with her pistol raised. She recognized one of the men as the Irish man who was in the pub yesterday, he had a gun pointed at Thomas. He then shot at Danielle and she ducked to avoid his fire. 

When she stood back up she saw Tommy lunge across the table at the man with the gun. I guess the plan didn’t work then, she thought. She raised her pistol and shot the second man who was still pulling his gun out of his jacket. She then turned her attention to Tommy and the other men who were fighting on the bar top. She couldn’t shoot the man without also harming Tommy. She went to grab the man's neck to pull him off of Tommy and the man let go of Tommy with one arm and slapped her across the face. She fell, hitting her head on the floor. 

When she came to, she saw that the man had his arm around Tommy’s neck and his cap pulled over her face. She couldn’t find her gun and instead lunged towards the man. She wrapped her hands around the man's neck trying to pull him off of Tommy and when that didn’t work she dug her fingers into his eye beds, “Ahhhh the man yelled,” and he let go of Tommy. 

Tommy elbowed him in the balls and the man let go of him all together. Then in the blink of an eye Tommy was on top of the man, beating him with his fists. Danielle saw that Tommy wasn’t stopping regardless of the fact that he was no longer fighting back. Then she saw her gun on top of the opposing table. She grabbed it and walked back over to the two men. Tommy was still beating the man and when he went to grab one of the spit buckets, she pointed the pistol at the man’s head and pulled the trigger.

Tommy dropped the bucket and looked down at the man. Then he got up and looked at Danielle who was still holding the gun, “give me the gun, Danny, the coppers will be here any minute,” with shaking hands she held it out to him, “It's better if they see me with it and not you,” she did what he said. 

He then took a step closer to her and grabbed the back of her neck. When he did so she gasped, still shaking from what she had just done, and what she had witnessed, “Now you’ve seen me,” Tommy said. 

“And you’ve seen me,” Danielle replied, and Tommy pulled her towards him and put his arms around her. 

They were interrupted by three coppers who walked into the pub. Danielle knew one of them was a sergeant, judging by the patch on his sleeve, “you were supposed to come on the sixth chime,” Tommy said, as he stormed towards the sergeant, “you were supposed to come on the sixth fucking chime!” Tommy yelled. He leaned against the bar, and for a second Danielle swore he looked defeated, “they refused to surrender. They fought well; they were brave men.”

The sergeant walked over to look at the two men, he then motioned to the one on the floor, “well he looks like he was killed by a wild fucking animal. Still this never happened.”

“Get the bodies out of here,” Tommy commanded coldly.

“Ah, right, are they making the lady uncomfortable,” the copper turned and directed the other two cops to clean up the mess, “I’ll leave you two love birds to it then eh.”

“Come on Danny,” Tommy said, he put his arm around her and together they started walking towards the flat. 

Once they were out on the street Danny took out a cigarette and lit it. With shaking hands she took a drag. She didn’t think she’d ever see anything like that again, not after France. 

A few minutes later she passed the smoke to Tommy. He accepted it, took a drag, and then passed it back to her as they arrived at the flat. 

“I’m sorry,” he said before turning to walk back down the street. Danielle wasn’t sure if he was sorry about what had happened that night, or just sorry in general. 

The Next Morning

Tommy and Finn stood in the middle of the graveyard. Danny Whiz-bang’s fake grave had been robbed in the night, and the guns had been stolen. 

“There’s going to be trouble now Finn,” he put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “You look after yourself, do you hear me,” the boy nodded, “I’m going to be going away for a while,” the man started walking towards the Garrison, “but there’s something I need to do first.”

Family of Liars Book Review

Family of Liars Book Review by E. Lockhart

As soon as I found out that We Were Liars had a prequel, I was sold. Normally, I’m apprehensive about prequels. This apprehension stems from the indubitable fact that prequels normally suck. 

More than several series prove this statement to be true, including prequels for Wicked Lovely, The Maze Runner, and the Hunger Games prequel Mockingjay. 

To me (and probably to many others), prequels often come across as an author’s way to keep milking a popular series instead of creating something new and novel. 

Sometimes the fans want a prequel (Where is my marauder era series, J.K. Rowling?), but in most cases, fans want new novels or perhaps spin-offs. 

However, there was no doubt in my mind that Family of Liars would be good. After one book, I trust E. Lockhart. I knew in my soul that she would deliver on something as precarious as a prequel to an already beloved novel. I was right. 

Family of Liars describes the story of Penny, Bess, Rosemary, and Carrie as teenagers in the 1980’s on the family island before Cadence, Mirren, Gat, and Johnny are even born. 

Before we fall in love with Cadence and the terribly tragic events that spiraled and led to the death of her dearest friends and family, another generation lived and loved. Just like their children, Carrie and her sisters are one thing above all others: liars. 

Right off the bat, Family of Liars reads as a parallel to We Were Liars. Instead of reading from Cadence’s POV, we get to see and experience Carrie’s adolescence.

 Unlike the first book where I didn’t delve into specifics and left this review mainly spoiler free, this one will include spoilers. Please continue reading at your own risk. 

The oldest of four sisters of the esteemed Sinclair family line, Carrie feels like she bears the entirety of the family’s weight on her shoulders. Beautiful, blonde, and always a credit to a family, Carrie looks out for her younger siblings. Even though Penny is selfish and shallow, Bess is young and naive, and Rosemary…well Rosemary is dead. 

The novel starts with the narrative of the young girls, along with their parents, Tipper and Harris, losing the youngest sister. Their baby. Their everything. 

This loss, despite staining every inch of the Sinclair family, remains under lock and key. No one speaks about Rosemary. No one wants to be reminded of her. Rosemary’s things are packed away and hidden. Move on. Don’t dwell. Keep moving forward. 

Except that Carrie can’t move forward. Well, unless she’s drowning in pills and a sea of numbness. Just like in We Were Liars where Cadence suffers from a mysterious mental condition, Carrie suffers from a narcotics addiction. 

Hooked on pain pills from what was supposed to be a “simple” jaw surgery to reconstruct her chin, Carrie finds solace from her pain and guilt at the bottom of an orange bottle. 

From here, the plot devolves into another masterpiece of Lockhart’s creation. Carrie’s experience on the island includes dealing with family expectations, learning that Harris is not her biological father, mourning Rosemary while trying to cope with visits from her seemingly real specter, falling in love with a boy named Pfeff, and then dealing with betreyal, secrets, and most shockingly, murder. 

I knew this book was going to have plot twists and wowieeeee did it deliver. Finding out that Carrie’s father wasn’t Harris blew my mind. The implications that her sisters weren’t her full sisters, that her mother had previously engaged in an affair, and that Harris had kept Carrie and claimed her anyway shaped a lot of Carrie’s decisions, mental health, spiral into addiction, and behavior.

 I loved that Lockhart addressed family matters here and relayed the message that blood isn’t what matters most. 

At first, Carrie falling in love with Pfeff bothered me. It seemed like a rinse and repeat of Cadence falling in love with Gat. Except that it wasn’t. Not at all. From what started out as a clandestine summer love between two teenagers twisted and turned until it evolved into a monster all its own. 

Learning of Pheff’s true despicable characteristics brought some much needed levity to the novel. Penny and Pfeff hooking up makes Carrie realize that Penny cares more about feeling wanted and needed than loving and staying loyal to her sister. 

Carrie is sickened. She’s enraged. Penny offers a paltry apology, Pfeff offers nothing at all, and the pills go down, down, down. 

Just like in We Were Liars, one night changes it all. 

Heartbroken and ill, Carrie wakes one night from Bess shaking her. Bess leads Carrie outside to a blood bath. Pfeff is dead, bashed in the head with a loose board from the pier, a rusty nail sticking out of the wood and covered with blood and hair. 

It was self defense, Bess claimed, Pfeff was assaulting Penny. Penny agrees. They need their big sister, their hero. 

And despite Carrie’s grief and anger and sadness, she helps them. That’s who she is. She’s the big sister that’s already let one sibling die. She can’t lose the others. 

That night, the three sisters concoct a plan to rid the body, the evidence, and create a fake murder scene in which Pfeff drowned, probably eaten by a shark. 

Because of the Sinclair’s money, their privilege, their reputation, and their intelligence, the murder scheme works. The sisters are innocent and Pfeff is dead. They grieve, agree to never speak of it, and move on with their lives.

This, honestly, would have been enough for me as a reader. I would have been pleased. Pfeff was a dirtbag, the girls helped each other, end of story. Except Lockhart doesn’t end it there. No, from there she points out that Carrie and her sisters have always been one thing and one thing only: liars. 

Except Carrie doesn’t want to lie. Not to Johnny, her dead son whom she’s relaying this tale. He deserves the truth. He deserves better from her. It is here the reader learns the truth of Pfeff’s death and what really happened that night.

You learn that Carrie woke that night not from Bess shaking her, but from a lack of pills. Once she’s awake she sees Pfeff and Penny. Again. How could they do this to her? How could they continue after Carrie caught them the first time? Don’t they care about her? Don’t they care at all?

Fueled by vitriol, Carrie goes downstairs. Instead of innocent Bess hitting Pfeff to protect Penny, you get a brutal scene of Carrie picking up the board, aiming for the dock, and swinging with all of her might. She was trying to hit Pfeff. She was trying to hit Penny. She wanted someone to hurt.  

That someone ended up being Pfeff but it could have been Penny. It could have been anyone. Shocked and ashamed, the murder cover up follows the same tale as above, but this time from a different lens with Carrie being the woeful murderer. 

The rest of the novel deals with this shock of a twist and delves briefly into Carrie’s future, the pills, two-stunts at rehab, and the eventual continuation of her telling ghostly Johnny the full and complete truth for once in her life. 

This book was marvelous. From start to finish it surprised, allured, and awed. The characters breathe and act like actual people. They make terrible mistakes, do bad things, act petty, stab others in the back, and commit selfish acts. 

But they also love. They also laugh, feel wonder, and deal with remorse. Lockhart writes her characters as beautiful representations of real people and the difficulties they face in life. None of her characters are good or perfect, but that’s what makes them raw and enjoyable to read about. 

Lockhart’s plot and writing are simple, but effective in their delivery, tone, emotional impact, and twists. She proves that you don’t have to have a convoluted plot to have a story that matters. 

Comparatively, I enjoyed We Were Liars more than Family of Liars. Not because the prequel was bad, far from it, but because reading We Were Liars filled me with such breathless surprise and joy that I didn’t expect while I expected it from Lockhart the second time around. 

This isn’t Lockhart’s fault, but simply a case of unrelenting expectations. 

If We Were Liars left you yawning for more from the Sinclair family, look no further than Family of Liars. It will deliver everything you loved from the first novel, but with a new cast of complex characters and new lies that will leave you gasping for more. 

Recommendation: If you loved We Were Liars, you will love this book too. It is one of the only books worthy of the prequel title. 

Score: 8/10

Since your anon brought it up: A lot of songs don’t fit Harry it’s really funny. Ppl assume everything is Harry like how fans think TVFN is about Harry cause Polaroid mention, but there is now timeline speculation it was written in Feb. Same with Come Back Be Here, Message in a Bottle (+ IKYWT) None of the lyrics make sense to be about Harry or logically possible. He doesn’t have freckles when you look at HQ photos of him on Getty Images super zoomed in his face in 2012 with no makeup and both songs are about someone she never dated and was written in April, while he was touring NZ-AUS that whole month, neither working in London. They think she wrote it in June (10) because of Lover diaries, but that was IKYWT not MIAB/WANGEBT cause Adam Levine interrupted Taylor, and his album came out June 20th, so physical copies cannot come out in a week, proving she wrote it in April.

It’s the same with Matty, the OOTW sample is a response to most likely ‘About You’ because of some of the lyrics, “do you think I’ve forgotten?” Then some other moments. That’s why she says “I remember” and uses that sample, it’s her response.

Harry Styles also confirmed in an interview that he never did drugs in One Direction, or experimented he was clean as a whistle because he didn’t want to be the person to sabotage the band. Which shows their Harry theory is nonsense. He only started experimenting with drugs when he went solo. He also never was publicly outspoken.

And Question definitely is about a short term situation, that didn’t go offical that’s why Taylor is asking him Question(s) and “swear they had one thing going in” / The miscommunication line = Matty having his words taken out of context back then (‘emasculating’) and backtracking whether or not he wanted to date Taylor / the dickhead guy she was with = Calvin, as Calvin, Taylor and Matty were at the first award show together and when she first started seeing Calvin = “out of time” since she moved on with Calvin / and he was “on something” (had to be dragged off stage, wasn’t doing well cause struggling with former addiction)…. Etc it’s so Matty heavy.

It’s funny fans either don’t comprehend her lyrics even if their black and white, OR just plain in denial cause they don’t likes a specific celeb (e.g Matty) when Taylor herself said she has written songs about people she hasn’t dated or wouldn’t know (brief) that meant more then her year long relationships. Some fans have such a chip on their shoulder and think they know everything about Taylor when realistically we know Jack shit, even Harry whining in a leaked song that ‘Wildest Dreams’ isn’t about him, but he presumes it is cause Taylor was writing about a whole different man while with him. 💀

The meteor strike line in Question 😔 Matty 💔

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Hump Day Snippet

The lovely @wabadabadaba tagged me in this, thanks Amelia! 💗

This is another snippet from my Country fest fic, which I am sooo close to finishing (I can feel it). Sorry, this one’s a bit angsty..

His hands are still shaking as he cracks the card open and his eyes fall on what Harry’s written inside. He doesn’t even bother reading the standard printed message, going straight to the familiar handwriting at the bottom.

Hey Lou,

I got this for you before everything happened, and still wanted you to have it.

I’m sorry.

Happy Birthday,

H.

It’s short and to the point, and Louis isn’t sure if he appreciates or hates it.

He lets his eyes scan over the brief text one more time before tucking the card back in the envelope and picking up the blue bag.

His hand is reaching inside before he can overthink it, and a small smile appears on his face when he pulls out a bottle of expensive looking perfume. It’s white, with a gold lid and some intricate details all the way around. It’s Gucci, he quickly comes to notice, rolling his eyes at Harry’s slightly exaggerated obsession with the brand – one that Louis has teased him about countless times.

Louis’ smile quickly falls when he reads the label. The Last Day of Summer.

This isn’t just any perfume Harry picked out because it smelled good. The last day of summer is when they shared their first kiss in a decade and made love a few months back, before things went awry.

Sitting alone on his bed, with this bottle of perfume Harry very clearly bought as a sappy romantic gift for him although they haven’t spoken in weeks, it all feels wrong.

Tagging @larry-hiatus @disgruntledkittenface @beelou @thebreadvansstuff @stylesthebrave and whoever else wants to share!

Truths & Misconceptions about Haylor part 3 - Songs

Taylor & Harry have written some songs about each other. There are songs on 1989 that are about Harry. Probably even "Come Back. . Be Here," and "Message in a Bottle" from Red. She writes about most of her exes, so that's no surprise. Harry has most likely written a few songs about Taylor. We have no idea how many or which ones are about Taylor though. He has never confirmed who his songs are about. Assigning any of Harry's songs to be about Taylor is pure speculation. Not fact.

The amount of songs Haylors have decided are about each other is a little unrealistic though. I have seen posts that some Haylors think every song Harry has ever written (besides 4 or 5 songs - for obvious reasons) are about Taylor. They ignore the fact Harry has dated several people since Taylor, and that he had a year-long relationship with Camille and a 2-year relationship with Olivia. That's like saying every song except 4 or 5 of Taylor's songs since 2011 are about Jake Gyllenhaal. Insane, right??? Taylor was in a serious relationship with Joe Alwyn, yet Haylors think a lot of songs from Folklore and Evermore are about Harry. Haylors find supposed parallels in her made-up songs and Harry's songs about Camille and Olivia. They find common words and phrases and think they match, therefore, they are about each other. Using the same common words is not proof they are about each other.

Taylor is known for writing autobiographical songs, but guess what? A lot of her songs aren't autobiographical. I watched a Tiny Desk Concert after the release of "Lover." She said in her early teens she wrote breakup songs before she even dated. She got inspiration from movies, books, and relationships she witnessed. In recent years her friends talked about their break-ups, and she had been watching movies about break-ups. The combination of those things let her to write a break-up song. She then performed "Death by a Thousand Cuts." She has also said most of the songs on Folklore and Evermore are NOT about her personal life.

Harry doesn't always write every song autobiographical either. I'm sure he does, but not all the time. "Sign of the Times"' is not an autobiography of his life. Here's what he said about the song:

"Most of the stuff that hurts me about what’s going on at the moment is not politics, it’s fundamentals,“ Styles says. “Equal rights. For everyone, all races, sexes, everything. …  "Sign of the Times" came from ‘This isn’t the first time we’ve been in a hard time, and it’s not going to be the last time.’ The song is written from a point of view as if a mother was giving birth to a child and there’s a complication. The mother is told, ‘The child is fine, but you’re not going to make it.’ The mother has five minutes to tell the child, ‘Go forth and conquer.’"

Harry also has a more cryptic approach to songwriting. Here are some things Harry has said over the years in regard to songwriting:

"A lot of the time it might sound like a love song. . . but it might not be about that. It might be about your family. Or you know, your dog." (iheart radio interview with Ryan Seacrest - Nov 2013)

In regard to "Sweet Creature": "The fun thing is, you can write a love song that's not always in the traditional sense - it doesn't always have to be romantic or even about a person at all, it you don't want." (Harry talking about the meaning in a 2017 interview)

"I think the thing that's important to remember is it's not always necessarily...um...the first thing that you might think of but I obviously...would never...tell someone that what they thought was wrong." (interview with Zach Sang May 2017 about "Sweet Creature")

If Harry wouldn't have said "Love of My Life" was about 'loving England' Haylors would absolutely think it was about Taylor. Some people probably still do. If Taylor wouldn't have said "Bad Blood"' was not about an ex, people would have thought the song was about Harry, or maybe John. 

There are songs people assume are about someone, then find out they're not. "Begin Again" is not about Conor Kennedy. She wrote it in 2011, after she went on a date with someone else. If Taylor & Harry actually told us who all their songs are about, I think people would be shocked to find out only a small amount of assumed Haylor songs are about each other. Using similar words or phrases doesn't prove anything.

I find it amusing Taylor uses similar lyrics in her "Jake" songs and her "Harry" songs (I remember/ the guy not looking at the road/lights while driving/I bet you think I hate you/I wish you could/would). If "All Too Well" and "I Almost Do" were about Harry, those same references would be proof for Haylors that it's about the same person. But it's not. Nobody ever thinks "Jake" references in other songs means anything, which is hypocritical, because they always do for "Harry" references, even when she was in love with Joe. If she wrote a love song about Joe and used the same or similar phrase from a "Harry" song, Haylors think it's 100% about Harry. Which is ridiculous. You can find parallels in a lot of songs of various artists if you actively look for it. Larries find lots of parallels in Harry & Louis' songs too. Does that mean their songs are about each other and they are in love or secretly pining for each other? They use same words and phrases. There are parallels - which means it's proof. Right?

Harry and Camille dated for a full year. He wrote the Fine Line album while dating her and after their break-up. Yet Haylors think some of the songs are about Taylor. Some think every song (other than "Cherry" and "TPWK") is about Taylor. That's about as insane as thinking every song on 1989 (other than "Out of the Woods" and "Bad Blood") is about Joe Jonas. 

Over a year after Harry & Camille's split, one of Styles BFF's, Tom Hull, opened up to Rolling Stone about "this breakup that had a big impact on [Styles]." He told an anecdote about when the singer spotted Hull wearing a pair of slippers that Styles' ex-girlfriend (whom he was "really cut up about") had given Hull. Though Hull questioned whether it was weird to still wear the slippers — seeing as he and Rowe were "still close friends" — Styles apparently had a problem with it. "How could you wear those?" he reportedly asked his friend.

There's no way any love songs or heartbreak songs on Fine Line are about a 3-month relationship from 6 years prior, compared to his recent one-year long relationship with Camille whom "he was really cut up about." If it's ridiculous that Taylor was writing about anyone other than Harry on 1989, then it's ridiculous Harry could be writing about anyone other than Camille on Fine Line.

But Taylor liked a post about all her songs on 1989 being about the same person!!!!!! Since "Style" and "Out of the Woods" are about Harry. therefore. . .

She lied. This is what she's said about several 1989 songs:

Welcome to New York: Taylor Swift's 1989 secret session with iheart radio: "I dreamt about moving to New York. I obsessed about moving to New York. Then I did it. The inspiration that I found in that city is hard to describe and to compare to any other force of inspiration I’ve ever experienced in my life. It’s an electric city. I approached moving there with such wide-eyed optimism and sort of saw it as a place of endless potential and possibilities, and um, you can kind of hear that reflected in this music, and in this first song especially."

[Ryan Tedder - about writing with Taylor] She said, 'I have this song, I'm obsessed with New York and I just moved there, I want to write an ode to New York because no one's done it in a long time.'

Harry has nothing to do with this song. It's not about their Central Park date or their time together in NYC. It's about the city. 

Blank Space: Taylor Swift's 1989 secret session with iheart radio: "Blank Space" is one of the only songs I've ever written that I started out writing as a complete joke.......in the last couple of years, I've noticed there's been sort of a pretty sensational fictionalization of my personal life. You know, they've kind of drawn up his profile of this girl who is a serial dater, jet-setting around with all her boyfriends, she can get 'em but can't keep 'em cause she's too emotional and she's needy. Then she gets her heart broken because they leave, she's jilted so she goes to her evil lair and write songs about it for revenge. It's just kind of this very complex profile of a person. Then I got to thinking about it. I started to think of how interesting that character is. If she were a real person that had all these qualities and attributes, what song would she write? And um, I'm pretty sure it would sound a little like this."

Not about Harry. 

Shake it Off: Taylor Swift's 1989 secret session with iheart radio: "Shake it off" is a song that I wrote about having to deal with, on an everyday basis, just kind of how human beings treat each other. It's not just me who has to deal with it, it's everybody out there living their lives. The feeling of humiliation is the same when a girl has a rumor spread around about her at school that isn't true - is the same feeling I feel when I'm checking out of the grocery store and I read some crazy headline about me. And I think that the way we have to deal with those issues is the same. You have to learn to have a sense of humor about things after a while or you'll just live an endless sea of resentment and bitterness and why are people doing this to me. And rather than writing a song that was victimized in nature, I wanted to write a song that was joyful and gives people a way to cope with whatever amounts of ridiculousness life is doling out to them, but also, makes them want to dance!"

quote from Taylor in GQ interview: "Shake It Off" is one of my most successful songs, and that has nothing directly, intricately, pointedly personal in it. No one really says I stay out too late. I just thought it sounded good."

Not about Harry. Not even one bit personal. Not even "to the fella over there with the hella good hair" personal.

Bad Blood: everybody knows this isn't about an ex. (allegedly about Katy Perry)

I Know Places: [Taylor Swift interview] "I kind of was in a place where I was like, ‘No one is gonna sign up for this. There are just too many cameras pointed at me. There are too many ridiculous elaborations on my life. It’s just not ever gonna work.‘ But I decided to write a love song, just kind of like, ‘What would I say if I met someone really awesome and they were like, hey, I’m worried about all this attention you get?’ So I wrote this song called ‘I Know Places’ about, ‘Hey, I know places we can hide. We could outrun them.’ I’m so happy that it sounds like the urgency that it sings.”

It was written in response to all the paparazzi and attention from her past relationships, especially Harry. So, it was inspired by the relationship, but it isn't about him. If she knew places, then why didn't she use them with Harry? I know Harry said he just wanted a normal date, but why didn't they learn after that date in Central Park? In a One Direction interview, the boys said they had stayed at a hotel in NYC with underground parking so they could come and go without being harassed by fans and photographers. Couldn't Taylor and Harry have done this????? That's why a lot of people thought it was a PR stunt. It was so overly public, so many pap pics at the hotel, when they could have kept it more private. It seems like they didn't even try.

The irony of all of this. Gigi Hadid went to a John Mayer concert in 2019. They are friends. Does Taylor know?

You Are in Love: In her June cover story with Elle, Swift revealed that her song "You Are in Love" from 1989 was actually inspired by Antonoff's relationship with actress Lena Dunham. Referencing the lyric, "You're my best friend," Swift added that she's "never had that" in a relationship, so she "wrote that song about things that Lena [Dunham] has told [her] about her and Jack [Antonoff]." She continued of the song's inspiration, "That's just basically stuff she's told me. And I think that that kind of relationship — God, it sounds like it would just be so beautiful — would also be hard. It would also be mundane at times." 

Not about Harry. Not one bit. "Stuff Lena told me." If she wrote a few things from her perspective, it could be feelings from anybody or everybody she has ever dated. Not specifically Harry.

New Romantics: Another deluxe album song that doesn't seem to be about any ex. [About New Romantics] “People will say, 'Let me set you up with someone', and I’m just sitting there saying, ‘That’s not what I’m doing. I’m not lonely. I’m not looking.’ They just don’t get it. I’ve learned that just because someone is cute and wants to date you, that’s not a reason to sacrifice your independence and allow everyone to say whatever they want about you.”

That's 7 songs out of 16 songs (including the deluxe songs) that are not about Harry. If you don't include the deluxe songs, it's still 5 out of 13 songs that are not specifically about Harry. How many more? I don't know why she liked the post, but she lied. Even if the rest of the songs are about Harry, are they all autobiographical? When people write songs based on their lives, is it always 100% factual, ripped straight from the diary? Sure. Sometimes. But have you never embellished a true story to make it more interesting? To make the story sound more cohesive?

Taylor recently admitted in an interview that the scarf in "All Too Well" was a metaphor, after years of people begging Jake to give Taylor her scarf back. Here is an excerpt of the E News article:

Speaking at the 2022 Toronto International Film Festival on Sept. 9 to promote her 10-minute short film All Too Well, the singer spoke about the scarf she references in the song, which many of her fans have long suspected is about her ex, Jake Gyllenhaal, who she briefly dated in 2010. In the short film, Sadie Sink wears a red scarf. “The scarf is a metaphor,” Swift told a panel audience at the event, "and we turned it red because red is a very important color in this album, which is called Red."

Shocker, right? Even when a song is based on a real relationship, not every word in the song always means what we think it does. Jake never had her scarf. But she sings about it twice in the song. So much for taking her every word literally. The problem is, Swifties do take her every word literally. It causes them to believe things that aren't true. Taylor writes autobiographical about her feelings and things that happen in her life. She puts in specific details to make it personal, but is everything purely autobiographical? Would you always be able to write great songs based solely on your diary? She's a good writer and lyricist. Sometimes you may need to make small changes or add things to your "diary" to make a good cohesive song.

You may also need to make small changes to get the point across that you want told. Taylor was being ridiculed and criticized for a lot of things - like often playing the victim in her relationships. It seemed like she wanted to prove she had matured and was taking equal responsibility for failed relationships. She dissed Harry throughout 2013, but she didn't write any diss songs about him.

Ryan Seacrest made a point to bring up certain lines in the song "Style," plus I saw it being discussed in other interviews - almost like it was an intended talking point. (I've heard you've been out and about with some other girl. . . Yeah, I've been there too a few times.) When?? She admitted to "Ellen" in the fall of 2014 that she hadn't dated anyone since her breakup with Harry. Her 2014 Rolling Stone interview states: She hasn’t dated at all since breaking up with One Direction singer Harry Styles more than a year and a half ago. “Like, have not gone on a date,” she says. “People are going to feel sorry for me when you write that. But it’s true.”

Was she talking about 2012, when she dated Conor Kennedy after meeting Harry? Because that would make sense. If it's meant to be after their breakup, she claims she didn't see anyone, but implies it in the song. Unless she's lying, or it's a make-up part in the song, she's talking about 2012.

The whole "I watch us go round and round each time" might also be referring to 2012. Hitting it off the first week in April, but then 1D was busy on tour so the relationship didn't really develop. Taylor dated Conor, then dated Harry that fall. In "Out of the Woods" she says "Last December . . . we were built to fall apart, then fall back together." Did they break up for a day or two maybe? When Taylor talked about this on again off again relationship, "someone who floats in and out of your life," could easily point to 2012. Not after their breakup. They did occasionally see each other after their breakup at award shows and parties. They have mutual friends. It's inevitable they would see other. It doesn't mean they continued to date or hook up though.

Taylor's 2012 Rolling Stone interview: Her relationships are always fully formed – she doesn’t “hook up.” “No,” she says definitively. “Where’s the romance? Where’s the magic in that? I’m just not that girl.” 

Many Haylors think they were hooking up after they broke up because of lyrics they assume are about "hooking up." Assumptions are not facts. Not every song is word for word autobiographical. She uses metaphors. She writes songs based on her life and feelings. She made sure to imply "Style" is about Harry though.

Taylor is a smart businesswoman. She's aware of all the Haylors out there. She knows talking about Harry gets her attention from her fans. She thrives on that attention. Days after their break-up, she tweeted: “Back in the studio...Uh oh.” This suggested she was going to write songs about Harry. Throughout 1989’s promo she teased just enough information about the songs to imply they were about Harry without ever actually confirming it. 

She purposely put the paper airplane necklace in the "Style" video. There was no reason to have a necklace in that video other than the fact she wants people to know it's about Harry, or to at least think it's about him. While performing "Out of the Woods" she pointed to her chin at least once while singing the lyrics "20 stiches." Fans knew Harry had stiches on his chin after their ski trip. Just in case the paper airplane lyrics weren't enough, Taylor ("I never reveal who my songs are about") Swift wanted to make sure people knew it was about Harry. I've never seen anyone try so hard to hint who their songs are about. Never. 

Quote from Taylor Swift during Red promo: "No one ever actually knows who my songs are about. They think that they do, and if they have enough details, they assume that they do. But that’s the fun thing, that’s the only card I have left to hold, and I’m holding onto it dearly."

If she is holding on to it dearly, then why does she purposely hint that most of her songs on 1989 are about Harry?

Besides the fact that some are about Harry, the name "Harry Styles" sells. She's a genius at marketing. Die-hard fans would've bought her 1989 album no matter what, but insinuating the album was about Harry drew much more attention and publicity and sales.