Could I have this dance for the rest of my life? Would you be my partner every night? When we’re together it feels so right. Could I have this dance for the rest of my life?
I saw this picture of Peter Capaldi and Jenna Coleman doing a promotion for Series 8 and thought, “My Gosh! It looks like Twelve and Clara are dancing.” Funny how the eyes can play tricks. And then I thought to myself, if they were dancing it would probably be for the rest of their lives.
So, thanks to Anne Murray for this appropriate Whouffaldi song.
“Husbands are the same all over the world, doll face. Let me guess - he don’t take you out at night anymore; he don’t like your friends; he don’t kiss you good morning and goodnight like he used to.” “Boy, you soldiers are all alike, aren’t you? Doesn’t matter if you’re a man or a woman - you think that uniform makes you one smooth talker.” “Oh, I don’t need the uniform to be smooth.”
Lieutenant June Turner (Ann Sheridan) has a hard time picturing civilian life at home after working abroad as part of the Women’s Army Corps. Her favorite hobby is flirting with the women she meets in Europe, and she really gets thrown for a loop when she meets an unhappy expatriate named Eliza Migliaccio (Jane Russell). When what was supposed to be a onetime thing starts snowballing into something more serious, June will have to rely on all her wit and training to avoid a real SNAFU!
*If Classic Hollywood Had Allowed Non-Hetero Stories
You probably all know this one person who comes into your life unexpectedly and you never want to let go anymore.
The friend that is one of your besties from one second to another and who doesn’t even have a choice to decide if he/she even wants to. The one who you make jokes about something and than only about five minutes later you actually do the thing you were joking about and you don’t even regret it. The friend who is always there for you no matter what shitty situation you’re in. ❤ I love you soooooo much and you’re not gonna get rid of me the next few days/weeks/months/years! 💞
I’m talking about cut3panda (Thought I should mention it somewhere if you haven’t noticed it already by the picture 😅)
Here you go Goregous! ❤ Thought you deserved this post after one of the best days of my life!
We keep this love in a
photograph / We make these memories for ourselves / Where our eyes are never
closing / Hearts are never broken / Time’s forever frozen, still
Harry looked over the photo album sitting on the coffee
table at his mother’s house. He hadn’t been home in a while and he was sure he
had never seen this album before in his life. Anne took a lot of pictures and
Harry remembered almost all of them.
But this album was different. Anne was making Harry his
favorite meal in the kitchen while he lounged on the couch after setting the
table. “Tacos smell good, Mum. I missed your cooking,” he said softly placing
the book in his lap.
Anne giggled from the other room. “I’m happy to have my baby
home,” she said knowingly.
Harry lifted the cover and took note of the date inside. Almost
a year ago. He doesn’t remember when that was exactly, what this album could
be. He figured it was some event Mum and he went to.
When he flipped the first page his heart almost stopped. It
was you. Why was this here? It was an entire album of you; you and Harry when
you went to all the events he brought you to as his date. It was every moment
you were with him. Weddings of family members and weddings for friends. Anne
must have taken hundreds of pictures.
Your eyes were closed in some of them as you laughed, Harry
gazing at you as he twirled you around dance floors. Smiles and kisses as the
two of you shared some of the sweetest moments together. Hugs and laughs shared
were all placed neatly into the pages of the album.
He couldn’t hear anything as he looked through the memories.
Back when the two of you were still together. Back when Harry’s heart didn’t
Harry closed his eyes as he examined the pictures of you
kissing him at awards shows. He felt his heart sink as his lips tingled—as if
he could feel the kiss again. Time in these pictures had stopped. Nothing hurt
in these pictures. But now he did. Time was not frozen. He was trapped, right
here in these haunting, beautiful memories. He pulled out a picture of the two of
you, one in which his arms were around your hips, yours around his shoulders.
He remembered the day clearly. The two of you were just coming off the beach,
you had shared an ice cream. Your hair was drying still, your bathing suit
beneath the sundress.
You had a smile that could set Harry on fire, it was so
bright. His returning smile just as sweet. He was so happy to be with you. The
look on your faces was so beautiful. The two of you were utterly in love. It
was plain as day. Harry was mad about you. You were mad about him.
“Harry I’ve called you three times for dinner—oh,” Anne said
softly. “I’m sorry, I meant to put that away,” she whispered.
“Why do you have this Mum?” Harry asked quietly.
She sat down beside her son and pulled the album into her
lap. She looked at the happiness in her sons eyes in the photos and saw how it
was now gone from his. “I really thought she was the one for you, Harry,” she
whispered to him.
Harry’s heart clenched sadly. Because she was right: you
were the only one for him. And he let you slip away.
So you can keep me
inside the pocket of your ripped jeans / Holding me closer till our eyes meet /
You won’t ever be alone / Wait for me to come home
Harry slid the after-beach photo inside his pocket. He
prayed he would see you again. Perhaps the separation had helped him
grow—helped you grow. Because one look at those photos and Harry knew the
mistake that had been made—and he wanted you to come home to him.
You were putting dishes away after you arrived home from
work. You were tired, but chores had to get done sometime. You were still
wearing your scrubs, trying to get any germs from the little ones you worked
with off your body—the last thing you needed was to get sick.
Your phone pinged and you looked down at the message. A message
There was no message, just a picture. A picture of the two
of you, gazing longingly into one another’s eyes. Your stomach turned and you
felt so nervous. Why was he sending this to you? Why now? Why? It felt like the
longest day of the year for you and now…Harry?
You bit your lip and just about cried on the spot. You were
grateful that he wasn’t here to see the tears. It wasn’t fair that he was doing
this and he wasn’t even here.
You swallowed as you held your phone in your hands, shaking
a bit. That was a nice day you
messaged him back.
It was a lovely day Harry
You didn’t know how to respond so you didn’t. You put the
picture as your screen saver on the home screen—not the lock screen, just in
case some fans saw you. You sucked your lip into your mouth and left your phone
on the counter. Afterwards, you walked to the bathroom ready to shower and let
this day just be over.
“Why isn’t she answering me?” Harry sighed to Anne.
“That’s a very strange message to send her out of the blue,
honey,” she reminded him. “Even if she did read it, it’s still strange,” she
explained while handing the washed dishes to Harry for him to dry.
He kept looking at his phone. The “Read” mark next to his
message made him nervous and he wished he could fix it.
But he’s pretty sure he made it worse. I miss you.
It was read, again and Harry’s heart broke when there was no
response. He pulled the picture out of his pocket again and wished with all his
heart he could gaze into your eyes like that. He wanted to kiss you one more
time, hold you. He wanted to come home to you, your sweet smell, and your
cooking. He wanted to cuddle you into dreamland and comb his fingers through
Please stop you
Loving can heal /
Loving can mend your soul / And it’s the only thing I know, know / I swear it
will get easier / Remember with that with every piece of ya / And it’s the only
thing we take with us when we die
You knew he meant no harm by his message—you missed him too.
But it was just so inappropriate and you found yourself in tears, coupled with
noisy sobs at the thought of Harry missing you. You wrapped yourself in an old
hoodie of his, one that lost his smell but still felt warm like him. You curled
up on the couch, rubbing your arms.
You were always so cautious, and with Harry, the pop star,
you were extra cautious. You trusted him with your life, but did you trust him
with your heart? You weren’t so sure. You knew he would never purposefully hurt
you—no cheating, no rumors, no lying…none of that would ever deter you from
being with Harry.
It was being good enough. It always came down to that. You
were never good enough for Harry. Because he had models with long legs and long
hair and you weren’t that. You were a pediatric nurse who wore cheap scrubs and
shopped the sales rack.
Of course Harry’s love healed you—it healed you in a way you had
never felt before. Because for
years and years you put others first, you helped others out. Not once had
someone asked you if you needed help.
Not until Harry.
And so when Harry
offered to help you, you were stunned, speechless, and overall just even more enamored
with the curly haired angel. You didn’t trust all at once…Hell, after two years of dating, you were still trying to
completely trust him. “It’s alright,” he whispered one night as you slept
beside him. “We’re okay,” he said cupping your cheek and gently brushing his
thumb on your skin. You loved that he said we. Like it was bot of you having a
breakdown, not just you. And as silly and crazy as that sounded, you were still
grateful that he said such—you felt him care for you.
And well, you trusted
him just a bit more.
And if you hurt me / Well
that’s okay baby only words bleed / Inside these pages you just hold me / I
won’t ever let you go / Wait for me to come home
Harry was going crazy as he read the two-worded message. Please stop. Please stop.
Except he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t. If he did he thought
he might explode. He loved you, there was no way around it and yet…
He had to do something.
The picture album was staring at him, it’s memories burned
into his mind and the pages. Everything hurt. And as he looked at your face in
that beautiful picture of the two of you. He realized it was okay if he hurt,
because he probably hurt you a lot along the way—of course not on purpose, but
knowing who you were, he knew you hurt.. But he wasn’t giving up easily…he
wasn’t letting you go. Not this easily.
Your words hurt him, those two words. But he thought of the
last words he spoke to you.
I just can’t do it
And you can fit me / Inside
the necklace you got when you were sixteen / Next to your heart beat where I
should be / Keep it deep within your soul
The following morning you were seated in the diner, it was
too early to eat. You were picking at a muffin as you read from the middle of
your favorite book. The waitresses didn’t bother you, simply smiled and
continued to steadily refill your coffee cup each time it emptied. They were
used to your early morning breakfasts.
You found your fingers gently touching the locket wrapped
around your neck. It was heavy, holding memories of people you loved. For a
while it was empty, but one day Harry asked why he couldn’t be there. “Well,
you’re here all the time, why would I put you in my necklace? I need to put
something there that isn’t with me all the time but gets to be close to my
“I want to be close to your heart though,” he mumbled
childishly. He bit his lip and frowned at you.
You smirked. “You’re adorable, Har-bear,” you whispered.
“Kitten, I love you,” he said simply. “I always want to be
near your heart.”
“You’re already in my heart, Harry,” you said gently.
Harry loved mushy stuff like this. He loved Valentines Day,
and flowers on Wednesdays. He wanted to make you happy and be in love and never
be out of love. For you to tell him that he was already in your heart? He was
overcome with love for you.
But as your fingers held the cool metal, with the small photo
of Harry and you in the tiny space, you realized he was still quite wedged into
You noticed how quiet the diner was, even for this Early in
the morning. You glanced up at the door and saw that Harry’s tall frame took up
most of the doorway. Your heart lodged itself in your throat. You stood up
dropping cash down in front of your plate as tears filled your eyes. You wanted
to run. Harry saw that. And so he gently held you out in front of him by your
shoulders. “Please stop,” he whispered.
When I’m away / I will
remember how you kissed me / Under the lamp post back on Sixth Street / Hearing you whisper through the phone / “Wait
for me to come home.”
He used the very same words you messaged him last night. You
sucked your lip into your mouth. His eyes scanned your face, all it’s beauty
and wonderfulness right before him, in the flesh for the first time in months.
“You are gorgeous,” he said softly.
You felt like crap…you hadn’t slept in months, not the way
you used to sleep beside Harry. “Thanks, you look perfect as always,” you
You wanted to hold him and never let go.
He sat down across from you at the table and looked into
your eyes. “I was at my mum’s the past few nights,” he told you. “She had
this,” he said and slid the photo album across to you. “And…I know what you’re
thinking, it’s the memories or whatever, but it’s not. I miss you. Tons.”
You flipped through a couple pages smiling at the memories
and you felt tears drip down your cheeks. You and Harry by no means disliked
one another. A relationship just no longer made sense. “Where’s the picture you
sent me last night?” You asked.
Harry’s cheeks tinged pinker and he pulled out his shirt
pocket. He held it out to you. “Want me to put it back?” You asked.
“No,” he shook his head. “I’m…keeping it next to my
heartbeat,” he told you quietly, hoping you would remember.
Of course you did. You remembered everything about Harry
Styles, the love of your life.
You smiled gently at him, opening the locket for him to see
you and him wrapped in the small heart pendant. “I’m never getting over you
kitten,” he whispered. “Can we make this work?” He asked.
You bit your lip and stared at the album in front of you.
“I’m sick of just remembering the kisses. I want to feel them. I don’t want
memories anymore. I want the present, the future. Kitten, I don’t want to
remember the past if you’re not with me to reminisce,” he held your hand in
both of his large ones. They completely covered your small dainty hand. And he
felt like a giant—stealing a poor girl who had done nothing wrong at all.
“Please,” he whispered.
You sighed and swallowed noisily. Harry accepted defeat.
‘A Life In Pictures’ with Alan Rickman - BAFTALONDON, ENGLAND - APRIL 15: Alan Rickman attends the reception for 'A Life In Pictures’ with Alan Rickman at Princess Anne Theatre, BAFTA on April 15, 2015 in London, England. (Photo by David M. Benett/Getty Images)Credit: David M. Benett / contributor