the fatted calf

  • Lord Petyr was seated on his window seat, languid and elegant in a plush plum-colored doublet and a yellow satin cape, one gloved hand resting on his knee. “The king is fighting hares with a crossbow,” he said. “The hares are winning. Come see.”
  • “I am a knight,” he told them. He opened the silver fastenings of his breastplate and let that fall as well. “I shall die a knight.”“A naked knight, it would seem,” quipped Littlefinger.
  • Littlefinger came calling an hour after the Grand Maester had left, clad in a plum-colored doublet with a mockingbird embroidered on the breast in black thread, and a striped cloak of black and white. “I cannot visit long, my lord,” he announced. “Lady Tanda expects me to lunch with her. No doubt she will roast me a fatted calf. If it’s near as fatted as her daughter, I’m like to rupture and die.”
  • As Ned looked to him, Lord Petyr stifled a yawn. "When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it,” he declared. “Waiting won’t make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it.”
  • “Chataya runs a choice establishment,” Littlefinger said as they rode. “I’ve half a mind to buy it. Brothels are a much sounder investment than ships, I’ve found. Whores seldom sink, and when they are boarded by pirates, why, the pirates pay good coin like everyone else." 
  • Varys made a tsking sound. "Sweet Petyr, surely you do not mean to suggest that these puissant lords and noble knights could be bought like so many chickens in the market.”“Have you been to our markets of late, Lord Varys?” asked Littlefinger. “You’d find it easier to buy a lord than a chicken.”
  • Petyr Baelish gave a shrug. "Tides and brides wait on no man, my lord. Once the autumn storms begin the voyage will be much more hazardous. Drowning would definitely diminish my charms as a bridegroom.”
  • Grand Maester Pycelle gaped at him, aghast. “Surely you do not mean to suggest that Lady Selyse would bring a fool into her bed?”“You’d have to be a fool to want to bed Selyse Florent,” said Littlefinger. 
  • There was a hermit’s cave on his land as well, but no hermit. “He’s dead now, but when I was a boy my father took me to see him. The man had not washed in forty years, so you can imagine how he smelled, but supposedly he had the gift of prophecy. He groped me a bit and said I would be a great man, and for that my father gave him a skin of wine.” Petyr snorted. “I would have told him the same thing for half a cup.”
  • “Perhaps I could bed you now, and wed you later?”The Lady Lysa giggled like a girl. “Oh, Petyr Baelish, you are so wicked. No, I say no, I am the Lady of the Eyrie, and I command you to wed me this very moment!”
  • “That will give it strength enough to stand, I’d think,” Petyr said. “May I come into your castle, my lady?” Sansa was wary. “Don’t break it. Be …”“… gentle?” He smiled.
  • “We did not come for your signature. Nor do we mean to bandy words with you, Littlefinger.”“What a pity. I do so love a nicely bandied word.”
  • Cersei smiled the sort of smile she customarily reserved for Jaime. “Lord Petyr, you are a wicked creature.”“Thank you, Your Grace." 

-Petyr Baelish being a smartass

The Signs as Magnus Bane quotes
  • Taurus: "There's no need to clarify my finger snap," said Magnus. "The implication was clear in the snap itself."
  • Gemini: "You can have the joy of reading the stories of incredible happenings, or you can be part of the story."
  • Cancer: Magnus raised his head and looked up and over at Alec; it was a look that made Clary flush and glance away. There was so much love in it, mixed with exasperation and pride and despair. It was an unguarded look, and it felt wrong to see it.
  • Leo: "Why send a message when you can send something truly magnificent?"
  • Virgo: Run off, little Shadowhunter, and learn to murder things. And be nice to Downworlders.
  • Libra: "Hello, companion," said Magnus. The monkey made a terrible sound, half snarl and half hiss. "I begin to rather doubt the beauty of our friendship," said Magnus.
  • Scorpio: "Well, well. Kill the fatted calf and all that. The prodigals have returned."
  • Sagittarius: Magnus had been alive hundreds of years himself, and yet the simplest things could turn a day into a jewel, and a succession of days into a glittering chain that went on and on. Here was the simplest thing: a pretty girl liked him, and the day shone.
  • Capricorn: "We all change the world, with every day of living in it."
  • Aquarius: Finally," Magnus said, grabbing a ten-dollar bill from a table near the door, and he buzzed the delivery man in. "I need some beef and broccoli before I face any more Mr. Darcy. It's a truth universally acknowledged that if you watch too much television on an empty stomach, your head falls off."
  • "If your head fell off," Tessa said, "the hairdressing industry would go into an economic meltdown."
  • Pisces: Maybe this time was different—maybe this love was different. It felt so different; surely that had to mean something. Maybe the year to come would be a good year for both of them. Maybe this time things would work out the way Magnus wanted them to.
  • Maybe Alexander Lightwood would not break his heart.
Meet Me In The Hallway- Two.

A/N: Hey guys! Here’s chapter two! Sorry it took me so long, I was wanting to make it the best it could be for you guys! Hope you enjoy it.

You can read previous chapters here.


“Hales, do you have any deep red lipstick?” I called as I walked through the living room, putting my earrings in. She was in her bathroom, pulling her army green Ramones jacket on. “I need a trip to Sephora in the worst of ways. I’m out of everything.”

She pulled a lipstick from her drawer, the perfect deep burgundy I was looking for. “Use it in here, otherwise I’ll never see it again.”

I rolled my eyes, opening the tube and applying a layer of the liquid lipstick to my lips. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Like you’re any better.”

“So, I extended an invite to your sorority sisters.” She quipped, putting on an extra layer of powder, sparing a look in my direction.

“I doubt any of them will come, considering I basically fell off the map for a year.” I did my sisters wrong, barely talking to any of them during my break from school. It wouldn’t surprise me if none of them wanted to speak to me after that.

“If they’re really your sisters, they will. From what you have told me that’s supposed to be an unbreakable bond. And if they are cold towards you for taking a year off, they weren’t really your sisters to begin with.”

She was right, even if they didn’t know the whole situation, they should still be there for me regardless… right? That’s what sisters did. Biological or not.

“Also, I heard from a little birdy, that you invited Mr. Styles to be apart of our little shindig tonight.” She smirked, propping herself against the counter and crossing her arms. “What happened to ‘no distractions’?”

I sighed, trying to hide the tiny smile I could feel begging to come across my face. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t kind of looking forward to seeing Harry again. I honestly didn’t know why, I didn’t even know him from Adam and I had sworn off guys for the most part. So why was I practically begging myself not to be happy to see him?

“Because he kept asking me to hang out and I just told him we were having a party. It was only to get him off my back.” I lied, hoping Haley would believe it.

“You’re such a liar.” She laughed, “I know you, Callahan.”

Well damn.

“You’re into him, aren’t you?”

I blushed a deep crimson, “No, I barely know the kid. I’m just trying to get y'all off of my back.”

“Yeah, okay. I know how this is gonna end and it’s not gonna be you enjoying being single, it’s gonna be you naked in bed with him.”

I rolled my eyes, chuckling “You’re so full of shit.”

Harry’s POV:

“So what’s she like?” I asked Niall, on the ride over to Taylor and Haley’s house. It was Saturday night and people were just beginning to come out for the evening, dressed in their weekend best, toting cases of beer.

Niall chuckled, “She’s something, alright.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Taylor is different from other girls. She and Haley are a lot alike. Neither of them are dependent on anyone but themselves. They’re also two of the most hard headed girls I know.” He smiled, pulling into their driveway. “Taylor is one of those girls that seems so typical and so predictable, but she’s anything but.”

I found myself becoming curious again about their reaction to my question at lunch. What were they hiding and just how unpredictable is Taylor?

“But if there’s one thing I know about Taylor Callahan, is that she can drink pretty much anyone under the table.”

We walked inside, a variety of people scattered through the house. Most everyone noticeably tipsy and the party was in full swing. Glancing around, I noticed a few of our brothers gathered in the kitchen, beers in hand and laughing loudly at something one of them said.

“Brit! You made it.” One of them shouted, “Just in time to shotgun one with us.”

I shook their hands, “Yeah, had to see what all the fuss is about these parties.”

“Oh, these two throw some ragers, that’s for sure.”

“Speaking of, where’s the hostesses?” Niall asked, pulling a beer from the fridge.

“I saw Haley out back with Chloe.” One noted, tossing a beer to me. “Here, man. Join us.”

I chuckled, “I’m alright for now. Ask me a few drinks from now.”

My eyes scanned the living room for the beautiful brunette that had invited me. Noting the amount of people that filled the house, I was shocked seeing just how many there were. I noticed a few that I had classes with before, some that were in the band, most were in fraternities and sororities which I had recognized from the many Thursday nights I had spent at the Greek village.

“You came!” A familiar voice shouted, before I knew it I was being engulfed in a hug by a giggling Taylor, obviously tipsy. “I didn’t think you were ever gonna come.”

I chuckled, checking my phone, it was only 10:56, the party had merely just started. “Of course I came.”

She smiled drunkenly up at me, “Hi.”

It was the first time I had gotten a good look at her. Her green eyes sparkled, her lips were painted deep red and I wanted nothing more than to kiss her. “Are yeh havin’ a good night?”

“The best.” She smiled, closing her eyes and taking a long gulp of her drink, tipping it all the way up.

“Do you need another? What are you drinking?”

“Hunch punch.” She giggled, “But it’s my secret hunch punch. No one knows about it except for me.”

“And me, now.”

“Damn it.” She cursed, stumbling towards the back of the house. I followed her curiously, mostly because I was afraid she might run into a wall or two in her high heels. She led me into a bedroom, which I assumed was hers. It was dimly lit by fairy lights, casting a yellow-ish glow onto the fluffy white bed. A vintage record player sat in the corner with a stack of vinyls next to it. I walked over to them, a Fleetwood Mac album sat at the top of the stack.

“Stevie is my soul sister.”  

The sudden sound of her voice made me jump. I turned around to face her. She stood there, cup in hand, smiling at me with that perfect smile that I honestly could stare at all day. It was one of those simple pleasures in life that I was definitely getting used to.

“She’s amazing.” She added, “My mom adores her too. It’s one of the few things we agree on.”

I smiled, pleased to know that she had great taste in music. “Have you ever seen her live?”

“God, I wish. That would quite honestly be the best day of my life.” She sighed, walking towards me her smile faltering a bit. “I really am sorry about being rude. There was no reason for me to be.”

“All is forgiven.” I chuckled.

We fell quiet, the only sound coming from the booming music in the living room. We stood for what seemed like ages without talking.

“So why did you go inactive?”

“Um, j-just a family emergency.” She stuttered, I knew she was lying. “Something happened at home that I just needed to deal with.”

“S’everything okay now?” I asked, genuinely concerned for the girl that stood in front of me, practically begging with her eyes for me to change the subject.

She smiled again, making my worries settle. “Getting there.”

“I’m back, bitches!” Taylor shouted, standing on top of the coffee table holding her beer in the air as all the guys around her cheered. “Miss me?”

“Give us a show, sweetheart.” One shouted. I didn’t recognize him, he was on the short side and seemed like one of those guys that acts tough to try and compensate for his unfortunate height. His comment infuriated me though, even with my hazy mind.

Taylor laughed sarcastically, flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder. “Not even in your dreams, micropeen.”

I couldn’t help but laugh loudly, thatta girl. She glanced over at me, flashing a flirty grin.

“This one’s for you, Tay!” A girl I had remembered who’s name was Jordan shouted from beside the speaker. A familiar tune started playing, I soon recognized the song as Bennie and the Jets.

“Hey kids, shake it loose togetha, spotlight’s hitting somethin’ that’s been known to change the weatha. We’ll kill the fatted calf tonight so stick arouuuuund.” She sang, using the neck of her beer bottle as a microphone. As she swayed and sang, I found myself completely amused by the girl who had initially been seemingly standoffish and now was the life of the party.

She turned to me again, holding her hand out in my direction. Everyone else had left, leaving just her and me in the middle of the room as she sang her heart out. I walked towards her, chuckling as she wiggled her eyebrows at me. Just as I took her hand to help her down, she lost her footing and fell forward, crashing into me. Thankfully, with her small stature I was able to keep us from falling to the ground. She giggled, turning her head towards me. Our eyes met, there was an undeniable connection. It was almost as if nothing else was going on around us, it was just us two. I felt myself leaning in closer, but stopped. We were both drunk, I didn’t want to take advantage of her, no matter how much I wanted to kiss her in that moment.

“Sorry.” She giggled, steadying herself back on her feet before continuing to sing. “She’s got electric boobs!”

I cackled, “Boobs?”

“That’s the words!” She argued, pushing me slightly. “You’re distracting me!”

I smirked, “Am I?”


Haley’s POV:

“Oh Halessss,” I heard Taylor’s voice calling me from down the hall, I opened my door to find her struggling to stand on her own, a fresh cup of her hunch punch in her hand. “This is so much fun. We need to do this every night!”

I stifled a laugh, trying not to egg her on knowing where this night may end, hoping to keep control of the situation. “You wanna share that hunch punch with me?”

She laughed, chugging the rest of the liquid that filled her cup. “What hunch punch? It’s allllll gone.”

My mind instantly went back to earlier that day when she had made not one, but two gallons of her hunch punch that was indeed, mostly alcohol and very little juice. I inwardly groaned, this night was already headed in the direction I hoped it wouldn’t, and I wasn’t looking forward to the ultimate demise of what originally was a great night. I grabbed her cup from her hands, and took off towards the kitchen. “Alright Tay, I think you’ve had enough.”

“Who are you to tell me when I’ve had enough?” Taylor slurred, brushing past me and grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels off of the island. “I think I deserve a drink or two.”

I huffed, becoming increasingly irritated “You’ve had more than two drinks. You’re drunk off your ass.”

“So what if I am? At least I can sort of forget about how fucking shitty my life has been.”

“Taylor, stop it. Don’t start this again, this isn’t you!” I shouted, trying to grab the bottle from her. Taylor brought the bottle to her lips, taking a large chug without even wincing, as if it was water. My heart began to sink, this can’t be happening again.

“I haven’t been me in three years.” Taylor muttered, beginning to walk back towards her room.

I stalked after her, snatching the glass bottle from her hands. “You’ve had enough.”

“Just fuck off!” Taylor seethed loudly, a tear running down her face. I attempted to grab the bottle again, and failed once more.

Harry was on his feet then and Niall came around the corner shortly after, running a hand through his blonde hair. This was getting out of hand, and of all things, it wasn’t just us, some of our closest friends were seeing her like this, something she always said she’d wanted keep from them. Harry shot me a confused look, I shook my head feeling tears coming to my eyes.

“Okay, everyone. Party’s over.” Niall announced, trying to usher people out of the house as quick as possible. Once the last person was out, he returned to me, standing in between Taylor and me. “Taylor, calm down. You just need to go to bed, okay?”

“Come on, let’s go.” I tried to pull her back down the hall. The arm that was in my hand was jerked back violently as she shot me a warning glare.

She shook her head profusely, “No! I need to forget! I need to be numb!”

Tears were visibly pouring down her face then. She was shaking as sobs took over her body. Niall wrapped his arms around her as she fought him, ultimately failing as she became limp in his embrace, sobbing into his shoulder. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Niall kept his tight hold on her, whispering into her ear, “We’ve got you, Tay. You’re safe.”

My heart was breaking for my best friend all over again. I thought we were past this, but I thought wrong.

Harry’s POV:

Taylor broke free from Niall’s grasp and glanced at me, I could see the pain written on her face. With one last quick swig, she stalked back to her room and slammed the door. I stood there in shock, glancing at Haley who had tears running down her face as well. Her heart visibly broken.

“She said she was better.” Her voice was broken, chin quivering.

Niall sighed, kissing her forehead. “Well obviously she’s not. But that isn’t something you get over quickly. You know that. We just need to be here for her, like we always are. That’s all we can do right now.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll just leave.” I muttered, grabbing my jumper that was draped over the back of the couch. I suddenly felt like I was intruder on the conversation and their lives. This wasn’t my place to be.

“Actually, she might like someone to talk to that doesn’t know what’s going on.” Haley spoke up, her voice hoarse from the alcohol and crying. “She won’t speak to me or Niall for the rest of the night.”


She sighed, “That’s just how this goes.”

“This has happened before?” I asked, now more concerned than ever. What exactly was I trying to get myself into? What kind of mess was this and was it worth what I originally thought?

“After what happened, it became a regular thing– the drinking, the outbursts, the fighting. I guess she thought it was a good way to cope.” Haley frowned, looking down at her shoes. “I’m sorry, I’ve had enough of tonight. I’m going to bed. I’m sorry about all of this.”

Niall rubbed her back, placing a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be in soon.”

She granted me a sad smile before walking towards the door opposite of Taylor’s. I longed to knock on her door, to make sure she was alright, but I wasn’t sure if it was my place or if I needed to. After all, my suspicions were confirmed, this was much deeper than Haley and Niall had originally led on.

“Stay, don’t want you driving after having a few.” Niall offered, scratching his neck, obviously trying to figure out the mess that just played out. “I better go check on Haley.”

I nodded, not sure if I should leave or not. Something inside of me told me to leave, to get as far away from this as I could, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to. “Thanks, man. I’ll hang out for a bit. Sober up enough to walk back to the house.”

“If you need anything, we’ll be right in here.” He patted my shoulder before making his way back to Haley’s room.

The sound of a loud thud had me jolting from my light sleep. I sat up from my position on the couch, catching a glimpse of a stumbling Taylor, still in her clothes from the party and toting the Jack Daniels bottle. I jumped up, catching her before she fell.

“Easy there, tiger.” I muttered, startling her slightly. She glanced up at me, eyes glazed over, eyebrows knitting together. Her makeup was smeared, faint black streaks decorated her cheeks, making my heart clench. I had always hated to see a girl cry.

“What are you doing here?” She slurred, becoming a rag doll in my hold, catching me off guard. After steadying myself again, I hooked an arm behind her legs, walking towards the couch and placing her down gently.

I sighed, “Wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” She groaned, “I’m fucking fine.”

“I’m sure you are, sober.”

She sat up, “Don’t fucking start with me, Styles.”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” I held my hands up in defense, fixing my eyes on the bottle in her hands, noticing it was almost empty. “But how about we get you some water and something to eat?”

Her eyes rolled, but eventually she loosened her grip on the bottle enough for me to take it from her. She laid there, looking utterly defeated, if it hadn’t been for her evident sadness, I might would have chuckled at her state, but this wasn’t something funny.

“I need to get out of these clothes.” She grumbled and before I could stop her, she was pulling her shirt over her head, revealing her tanned torso. I tried to stop my gaze from falling to her full chest, but I noticed something right below her bra. Along her ribcage, ran a long scar, making my heart clench. “I got cut during a fishing trip.”

Her voice startled me, pulling my gaze back up to her face. Though her face was stoic, something told me she was lying. “Oh.”

“Shit, you must think I’m some stripper or something.” She mumbled, quickly finding her shirt that she had just discarded to the floor and covering herself.

I chuckled, “Not quite.”

“Um, let me go change.” She slurred, shuffling towards her room. Moments later, I heard another thud. Worriedly, I stalked towards the back of the house finding her leaning against a wall struggling to get her skinny jeans down her legs. “Help.”

I hesitated, again, not wanting to take advantage of her. “Are you sure?”

She huffed, falling back onto her bed. “I can’t do it.”

I noticed a stack of folded clothes on her dresser, grabbing a tshirt and a pair of sleep pants for her to wear. She was still struggling to work the denim down her legs, but barely trying, her intoxication slowly drifting her to sleep. “Stay with me until we get you some water.”

She groaned as I pulled the pants up her legs, “Just let me sleep.”

“Nope, you’re not winning this one.” I told her, picking her up and throwing her over my shoulder, making my way into the kitchen. Raiding the pantry for something filling, I found some peanut butter and bread, making her a quick little sandwich. I browsed the fridge for any bottles of water, finally finding one hidden behind a jar of pickles. “Here, eat up and drink.”

She pulled her hands from her face, grabbing the sandwich and taking a lazy bite. “Thanks.”

“S’no problem.” I muttered, washing the knife I had used. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” She deadpanned, taking another bite of her sandwich. The both of us stayed silent, but I noticed the faint sound of music playing, I soon recognized it was Fleetwood Mac playing from her record player. It was a comfortable few minutes of quiet as she finished her sandwich and water.

“Harry?” She muttered, her voice hoarse. “Can I ask you a question?”

I looked at her, taking in her face. Black streaks cascaded down her cheeks, her cheeks flushed. “Of course.”

“Why are you still here?”

I shrugged, not really sure myself as to why I was, but for some reason couldn’t leave. Something was pulling me to her. “Because I see that you’ve had a hard time, was just trying to help.”

“I don’t deserve it, though. I don’t deserve Haley’s forgiveness either, I really don’t deserve her at all.” She admitted, looking down at her water bottle solemnly. “If you only knew how much we’ve been through and how much strain I caused in our friendship, you’d never look at me the same.” A single tear fell down her face and I just looked at the girl before me. Now more than ever, I wanted to know what had caused all of her pain and a part of me wanted to be the healing she needed, but not knowing if that’s what was best. This whole situation seemed deeper than anyone had led on and I wasn’t sure if it was in my best interest to get involved, but still, I couldn’t leave.

“Sorry.” She shook her head, gulping down the rest of her water. “I’m sorry for all of this.”

I shrugged, offering her a small smile, hoping to see her mood change slightly. “Shit happens.”

“Wanna watch a movie?” I could tell her drunkenness was slowly subsiding, at least enough for her to talk normally again.

“That sounds great, but I can’t promise I won’t fall asleep halfway through.”

She smiled a bit, “I won’t hold it against you.”

We sat on the couch, only a foot or two between us as we browsed through Netflix. She snuggled deep into the couch, covering herself with a fluffy blanket.

“How I Met Your Mother is always a good choice,” She yawned, slightly inching towards me.

I chuckled, enjoying the decreasing space between us. “How I Met Your Mother it is, then.”


She had only made it through two and a half episodes before she was out cold. At some point during that time, she had slowly inched down to lay her head on my shoulder. Unbothered by it, I snuck my arm around her waist, feeling her snuggle deeper into me as I situated us more comfortably.

I couldn’t help but smile slightly, something about this felt right. Although we had only met two days before, there was a pull towards her and I wanted to pursue it. If not in a romantic way, then at the very least, a friendly way. Something told me she was brought to me for a reason, and I wanted to find out.

Taylor’s POV:

It had been a while since I had woken up this hungover. Sharp pains were shooting through my brain at the slightest of movements I made. My body felt like it had been put through the wringer and I wanted nothing more than to bury myself in my bed and not come out until I was eighty-nine. But something felt off, I wasn’t in bed. My eyes fluttered open, seeing my hand loosely fisting the fabric of a shirt that adorned none other than Harry.

Oh shit, what have I done now?

I quickly sat up, instantly regretting that decision when the shooting pains increased in my skull. “Fuck.”

Harry stirred awake, stretching his long limbs before rolling his head to the side to face me. “How are you feeling?”

I groaned, covering my face with my hand. “Let’s not talk about it.”

He stood from the couch, shuffling to the kitchen to open up the fridge. He returned only moments later with a bottle of water, “Where do you keep your pain relievers?”

“Above the sink in the kitchen, in the cabinet.” I answered, taking a long swig of the water, the cold soothing my raw throat.

“Here, take four.” He offered out his hand with four ibuprofen already taken from the bottle. I looked up at him, silently thanking him and also wondering why he was still here.

After taking the pills, I sunk back into the couch, hoping to find a comfortable position. I glanced up at him, he was still looking at me, obviously holding back from saying something.

“What happened?”

His eyes widened a bit before taking his seat next to me again. “Well um, you kind of, went a little overboard last night.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t remember anything?” He asked, concern written on his face.

I tried to think back to the night before, the only thoughts I could recollect was Harry’s arrival. After that, it was all a blur. “No.”

He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair, obviously trying to find the right words. “Well, you had it out with Haley.”

“What?” I asked, my heart rate increasing remembering the last time we had had it out with each other. The night that I thought I lost my best friend. I hoped and prayed that last night was not a repeat performance.

As Harry recalled the events from the night before, I felt my heart break and guilt consume me. Had I really done it again? Had I really lashed out at my best friend for helping, again? Tears started falling from my eyes and I knew I needed to talk to her.

Before I knew it, my feet had found the hardwood floors, taking me back to Haley’s room and leaving Harry in the living room. I hesitantly knocked on the door, not knowing if she’d talk to me now that I had done this twice. Only moments later, the door swung open revealing a shirtless Niall, fresh from a shower. One look at my face and he wrapped his arms tightly around me as I sobbed into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Tay.” He soothed, rubbing my back. “She knows you didn’t mean it.”

“I need to apologize to her, I can’t lose her again Niall.”

“Tay, you’re never gonna lose me.” Haley said quietly, coming from the bathroom with wet hair, walking over to me before pulling me into one of her comforting hugs. “I know more than anyone what you’ve been through and if you really think that one little spat is going to get rid of me, then you’re not really my best friend and I need to find that crazy bitch that I really live with.”

She chuckled, pulling back and keeping me at arms length, her words bringing a slight smile to my face, my worries slowly decreasing.

“I’m so sorry for what I said.” I said sincerely, taking her hands in mine and squeezing them. “Truly.”

She shrugged, “I had already forgiven you last night, I just needed your ass to sober up so I could make sure you were still alive.”

Haley was truly the greatest person I knew, one of the only people that truly has been there through thick and thin. I didn’t deserve her friendship or her forgiveness, she was way too merciful with me. There was no way I would be alive and well if it weren’t for her.

“Well, I think Harry took care of me last night. God only knows how much of a handful I am, I hope I didn’t scare him off.” I sighed, genuinely concerned for what Harry thought of me now. Although I wasn’t interested in being involved with anyone romantically, I couldn’t help but be pulled to Harry for whatever reason it was. “I’m really sorry.”

“Dude, will you stop apologizing?” Haley chuckled.

I smiled slightly, bringing her in for another hug. “I hope you know you’re my person.”


Walking back into the living room, I had silently hoped Harry was still there but another part of me just wished that he would rid himself of any kind of relationship with me completely. He didn’t need to be roped into this, I couldn’t do that to him. He seemed so genuine, which was refreshing considering the guys I seemed to always attract had been the complete opposite. Despite my wanting him to save himself from me, I still felt a pull to him. I wanted to know him, there was a reason I met him. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach.

“Everything alright?” He asked from the couch, standing from his seat.

Smiling a bit, I ran a hand through my hair, realizing then just how much I needed a shower. Despite the night of heavy drinking and drama, he still looked good. I inwardly cursed myself for looking like such a mess in front of him this early on, but oh well, it was too late now.

“Um, yeah.” The room grew silent, neither of us knowing what to say next. A feeling in the pit of my stomach was telling me that he was looking for an opportunity to leave and in all honesty, I didn’t blame him.

Dimples indented his cheeks then, glancing at the floor momentarily before looking back up at me with sparkling green eyes, making my heart do the cursed thing yet again. “Do you want to go get some breakfast? As friends, of course.”

My eyes flickered to the clock on the wall, 1:32 pm. I chuckled, “Well, I think we may be a little late for breakfast, but lunch sounds great.”


“So, what brought you here of all places?” I asked, sipping my protein smoothie, hoping it would aid in my hangover recovery.

He smiled, leaning back in his chair as the waitress brought our plates of food to us. “I could ask you the same, Miss Southern Belle.”

It was true, I was just as much of a rarity as he was at Syracuse , at least where accents and hometowns were concerned.

“Well, my dad is from here and this is where he went to school. I spent a lot of time here when I was little during football season, so I’ve always loved it here.”

“Did you consider other places?”

I thought for a moment, of course there had been other options I had considered, but when it came down to it, Syracuse just felt like home to me. “Yeah, but none of them offered what SU did.”

“How come we’ve never met before this year?” He asked, biting into his club sandwich. “Obviously you took a year off but there was two years before that.”

“Well I guess I can credit that to the fact that I didn’t go out much during those two years except for a handful of times.”

“Just not keen on going out or?”

I sighed, trying to figure out a way to word this that wouldn’t cause more questions to arise. “I was just really focused on spending time with my boyfriend at the time rather than going out.”

“Oh, I’m assuming he’s out of the picture now, right?”

“Thankfully, yes.” And for the first time, I felt like I could genuinely smile about that. “You still haven’t answered the question.”

“Erm, well, I just wanted something different. I researched a lot of universities in America and felt that this one fit me best.”

I smiled as he delved into stories from his childhood, finding myself enjoying the conversation and his company more and more as we sat there. The conversations seemed to flow easily, the both of us never running out of things to talk about. All too soon, our plates were empty and the check was being brought to the table.

“I got it.” He offered, pulling his wallet from his pocket.

I placed my hand on his as he reached for the book, “No, please, let me. After all you did for me last night and how rude I was to you that first day, I think I owe you. So, I got it.”

He hesitated but eventually pulled back, placing the cash he had just pulled, back into his wallet.

“This goes against everything I believe as a gentleman, but I suppose I am still a little sore from you brushing me off.” His eye dropped into a wink making me blush. How did he manage to do that with the smallest of gestures? “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”


“Thank you again for breakfast.” He smiled as we drove back to my house. “I’d love to hang out again.”

I blushed again, “Um-”

“As friends of course.” He clarified, throwing me a small grin. “Don’t want to pressure you into a date, I’m hoping you’ll want to on your own.”


I chuckled, “You are one of a kind, Styles. You know that?”

“I’ve been told a few times.”

He was something alright.

There you go guys!!! I hope you enjoyed it, I really loved writing this chapter and am already delving into chapter three. 

Please, give me some feedback. It helps, a lot and it’s always, always, always appreciated!!!

Training Day

Based on these Imagines from @imaginexhobbit: Imagine being a fierce warrior in the company and being very strict about your diet and exercise, Dwalin feels threatened by how serious you take it and you keep challenging one another + Imagine training with Dwalin + (a little bit of) Imagine having a staring contest with Dwalin  || Humor and slight NSFW for innuendo.

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anonymous asked:

Hiiii I think you already know I've been lurking on your blog for a few hours lol I've been reading your posts about mitam and sott, sweet creature etc. Is it possible you could make one for more songs on the pink album? I would love to see woman or only angel!!! Specially woman tbh. I know it's a lot to just ask but it would be amazing! If you already have a post about this just ignore me lol (or direct me to it) thank you, sea xxx

WOMAN has always puzzled me, and I have read a lot of good interpretations, but I was still not really satisfied for my own musical curiosity. So here goes nothing. 

I am basing my interpretation on these lyrics, and will refer to times from this video:

Someone very fortuitously discovered an allusion to Charles Bukowski’s poem, Old Man, Dead in a Room

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“Bring forth the best robe! Put a ring on his hand! Put shoes on his feet! Kill the fatted calf! Let’s celebrate! My son was lost and now he’s found” (Luke 15:22–24). The father didn’t say one word about his son wasting his wealth on prodigal living. He was just overjoyed that his son came back.

In the same way, God has not given up nor will He ever give up on you. The moment you take a step toward Him, you will find Him running toward you to embrace you. 

My friend, when people give up on you, and even when you give up on yourself, I want to assure you that God has not given up on you! He sent His Son Jesus Christ to die on the cross for your sins and this God of grace will never give up on you. His arms are wide open to receive you, freely forgive you and restore you!

-Pastor Joseph Prince


“But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet. And bring the fatted calf here and kill it, and let us eat and be merry;

Luke 15:22–23

What would you say if your son, whom you had given a large inheritance to, came crawling home one day after wasting all his money on riotous living?

In the parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11–24), the father did not say one word about loss or waste, though his son had indeed wasted his inheritance on riotous living. The father only saw his son’s homecoming as an opportunity to show him how much he loved him and to restore to him what he had lost.

Like the father in the parable, it is your heavenly Father’s desire to embrace you and show you how much you are loved. And it is His good pleasure to restore to you what you have lost.

Perhaps you have lost something recently, or you are frustrated that something has gone to waste due to a bad decision you made. My friend, God does not see the finality of the loss or waste the way you do. When you come to Him with it, He sees it as an opportunity to restore to you what has been lost or wasted.

Even if, like the prodigal son, you feel far away from your heavenly Father, or you feel that you have disappointed Him, don’t despair. The truth is that the moment you come to Him, He immediately restores to you the robe of honor to clothe your nakedness, the ring of authority to declare your position of power and dominion, and the sandals on your feet (which servants do not wear) to reinstate you as a son in His house.

He reassures you that you had never lost the position of sonship. And He celebrates your return to Him with the killing of a fatted calf because you are His beloved child whom He cherishes.

Beloved, in your Father’s house, you not only come under His complete protection, but you also enjoy His inexhaustible provision and unconditional love!


Fic: maybe Monday, maybe not

All Blaine wants is to find a nice, reasonably attractive, twentysomething gay guy who will laugh at most of his jokes and hold his hand sometimes and not make fun of his sweater vests.  Is that really so much to ask?  AU, PG-13, ~13,500 words.  [AO3]

Written for the klainebingo prompt blind date.


As with most of the bad decisions Blaine’s made in his life, this one starts with alcohol.

He and Sam decided to invite a bunch of people over for one last end-of-summer get-together.  Blaine’s starting his last year at AMDA next week, and a lot of their friends’ semesters will be starting soon, too, which means they’ll all have less time to hang out like this, sprawled around his and Sam’s living room, arguing about whether Tony Stark is a better businessman than Bruce Wayne.

There was some talk of going out earlier, but at this point, they’re all several drinks in, and it looks like it’s going to be another long night of drinking games and falling asleep in uncomfortable positions on the floor.

At some point, the conversation somehow turns to Blaine’s love life – or lack thereof.

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To God in Three Small Words

Before this blazing bonfire
Of the vanities of God
When soft, the warm west wind
Is a feather on my face
Playful as the infant’s laughing eyelashes
A monarch in the sweet caress of flight

These eyes and ears of God
This breath
Stolen of wonder
The hungry skin of solitude
A mouth that chafes
For one small drop of nectar
To quench the thirst for colour
In the soul

I am high
Upon this holy breeze
Basking in the warmth
Of the valley’s maple embers
As roaming vees of southbound geese
Herald in the dawn
And split the morning sky
Like kindling for yearning
In the hungry hearth of man
Dividing into realms
Of east and west
The captive heavens
Each of whom would kill
The fatted calf
And claim the wayward sun
As its own

Raise your arms in wonder
Cast the shadow of a dove
Expel your final breath
To God in three small words
It is done
For the heart of man is crucified
Upon this peaceful hill
Where providence is burning
For beauty on its knees

(disclaimer: This series will be ongoing and indefinitely open to new posts and new suggestions for topics. A table of contents is available and kept up-to-date as new posts are added. As with all advice on culture, if you are planning on basing your own fictional culture off an existing culture, please do extensive research into anthropology and discussions from people of the culture. Avoid direct appropriation and utilize only for inspirational purposes.)

Part 6: Bringing Out Culture Through Characters

If you’re going to stop being content to let culture take a back seat, if you’re intent on having active culture rather than passive culture, your number one tool is your character. Remember our 8 delineations of culture? Knowledge, belief, customs/traditions, arts, morals, laws, habits, and capabilities, right? All those things come together in a perfect storm to create people, characters.

In my last series, Let’s Talk About: Developing Character, I posed a whole bunch of questions for you to consider when creating your cast. Many of those will portray culture, so do be sure to take a peek at those after this.

Given that culture is most powerfully portrayed through the actions and decisions of people, it can be difficult for writers to differentiate when they’re talking about a character decision and when they’re talking about culture. A character decision is defined in my book as a choice made by an individual that could have gone another way if another character were making the choice. Basically, these are all the actions, decisions, and comebacks you pause to consider: “What would they do, anyway?” We writers are very familiar with the idea that our characters are influenced by their past. We understand that who raised them will impact how they view and deal with relationships. We get that an event in their childhood will impact how they handle a situation.

What’s often forgotten is that culture will define just as many of your characters’ decisions and reactions and feelings as anything else. We, as human beings, are defined by our experiences, right? Those experiences were defined by how we were raised. In short, we are entirely composed of a mix of the cultures around us–our parents’ cultures, our neighbors’ cultures, the culture of that man who lives down the street who gives you rhubarb and gooseberry tarts as you’re coming home from school every day.

So what kind of things will culture influence in your characters? Hopefully by now you know the answer is everything, but let’s look at some examples to help give you an idea:

  • Their hobbies: Some cultures have an art form that’s become traditional and recognizable as belonging to that group of peoples. I find this idea (actually, the whole idea of cultural arts) to be under-represented. Give your people something they’re known for and then be sure to feature it a couple of times. Maybe a triangular geometric beading pattern is your culture’s ~thing.~ Give your character or someone close to your character–either physically or emotionally–this gift. Make them passionate about it. Mention it every time a character is wearing something emblazoned with it.
  • How they view family: Some cultures believe the elderly are to be cherished and cared for, never abandoned. If your character grew up in a culture with this view, they’ll go out of their way to check on elderly family members, friends, and even a stranger on a street corner. Other cultures are so forced to dwell on survival because of harsh living conditions, their elderly choose to leave the group to relieve them of a mouth to feed who could no longer contribute to the collection of the food they were eating. A character raised in a culture with this view would have an entirely different view of people. They would always be evaluating individuals by how much they contribute and if a comrade could pull their own weight. They would feel absolutely comfortable leaving an injured companion behind. In fact, they would see their friend’s plea (”Just leave me and go!”) as a noble realization on their friend’s part of the greater need of the rest of the group. It would be a grand and honorable sacrifice. Whatever your culture’s social norms are, they ought to be just as prevalent in your characters’ decisions and reactions as their experiences.
  • What allusions they make: We humans use certain things as cultural touchstones. Legends, myths, stories, and classic literature are just a few. We refer back to stories we know to explain how the world works. Tell me (no, I mean it, send it into my ask box or tag it if you reblog this post or something; I’m actually curious) how was thunder explained to you? My great-grandmother told my grandmother who told my sister and I that it was the sound of an old man pushing a huge potato cart across the sky and the crack that comes with lightning is when a potato falls out of the back of the cart. If you grew up without the Bible, you may not understand when someone who sees an old friend for the first time in years says, “Someone kill the fatted calf!” Legends and allusions your characters make will depend on culture. What stories do your characters consider traditional, ones that everybody knows? Are they actually traditional to every culture or just that character’s and they don’t realize it? Here’s a tip: You don’t always need to know the entirety of a myth or cultural tale for your characters to make allusions to it. Of course it’ll help (and will go an extra mile in showing culture), but if the flow of the moment leaves no space for an explanation to a character of another culture, don’t stress over it. Listen to the story and its pace before trying to force an element that doesn’t belong.

I could go on giving examples forever (and will given requests), but I have one final point to make in regards to characters and culture. If you want to do this–and I mean really do this–make culture a priority in your story–you’re going to have to go outside your comfort zone. There’s a kind of default culture that fantasy writers utilize, and then there’s also a tendency for writers to use elements of their own culture to base stories off of. There’s a perfectly understandable reason for that: It’s what seems normal for us. Our own cultures are so embedded in us that it shows up in our writing without us even being aware of it. It’s winter, and of course there’s a festival going on, but no, no! It’s not Christmas! It’s a celebration of the miracle of snow! Yes, of course. These are the excuses we give ourselves. We’ve taken what’s familiar to us and tweaked it so we can lay claims that it’s not, that it’s ~different.~ Don’t fool yourself. Think so far outside your normal that what you come up with feels strange, wrong, odd, and hard. Challenge yourself to write beyond. But of course, always return to reason. Be sure your social norms have a basis in plausibility and you’ll do just fine.

Next up: Culture in plot!



Calcot Manor, Sussex

Autumn, 1805

“You should try standing a little straighter,” Leonardo whispered to April, standing to her left, arm cupping her elbow.  “Men do not care for women who slouch.”

Her spine instantly straightened and her cheeks reddened.  It was only the thousandth time he had made such a comment this evening.  Could he not see she was trying?  Could he not see the powder covering the freckles on her face, the hours spent arranging her wild curls into some semblance of order?  What else did he desire of her?  She was already on her way to make a proper match, as had been expected of her since the marriage of her mother to Mister Hampson.

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Just because she’s a dog owner doesn’t mean she’s different.

4 Ways America Has a (White) Terrorism Problem

#4. Americans Have a Weak Spot for White, Liberal Terrorists
Let’s be clear: Patty was brainwashed. But so is every other terrorist out there, from what I can tell. Very few people are born with an innate desire to utilize beheadings to achieve their political and religious agenda. I mean, I know like six people born that way, but they were really bad babies. And three of them were mine.
The difference between Patty and, say, I don’t know, terrorists with brown skin, is that her conversion time was insanely short and she looks like white America. During her trial her defense went back and forth between her having Stockholm Syndrome and her being “forced” to rob banks and drive getaway cars while her comrades shot civilians dead. Both are bad news for everyone involved, but you couldn’t really tell where Patty stood ideology-wise. Especially because she looked like the thousands of young upper-class American girls who were wearing their boyfriends’ letter jackets and cheering at the big homecoming game one year and smoking pot and hitching to California with their new Moonie cult the next year.
So when Patty came back to regular, normal life, it was like your own prodigal daughter coming home to eat the fatted calf. She got married, had children, appeared in John Waters movies, did all the things normal middle-class women do as they grow older. Now, let’s contrast Patty’s story with another lady criminal of her generation…

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Like many others, Gracie found us in the middle of  one of the hottest summers of DC in 2012. This skinny, starving, flea-bitten soul came up to me (with no hesitation) with the saddest eyes and took food from my hands (McDonald’s sausage biscuit).e has ruled our house ever since.

This fatted-calf has ruled our home ever since.