What Is Your Favorite Era Of Alex? :-*

What is your favorite era of Alex? :-*

A VERY DIFFICULT QUESTION ANON I'LL GIVE YOU THAT

but it's GOTTA be eycte

the slutty "if you still think i'm straight then that's on you" energy he was sporting in 2016 was CHEF'S KISS 👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼

i mean look at this!!!! 1000/10

entry wound.

summary : remus promised never to leave you, but youth is not eternal and his love for you proved to be just as fickle.

warnings : angst! + ridiculously prosey (if that’s a word)

notes : so weird and terrible but i found it in my notes app from forever ago! like or rb if you enjoy this mess at all <3

⇨ remus lupin masterlist.┊ marauders masterlist.

enjoy your youth — the rallying cry of the adult nation. it’s a well meaning mantra repeated by parents and kin to every young fledgling about to fly the nest.

you had always sworn to yourself you would never be damned to such an empty faith; the religion of broken bottles and burnt polaroids littered across a neutral-toned carpet, bitter and angry over the events of your teenage years. and yet you had become exactly what you had most feared. a shell, a receptacle, a husk, an adult. because for you the years you had spent at school were not saturated with beauty but instead snared within the roots of misfortune, turning you into a hollow vessel for pain.

you had always sworn to yourself you would never be damned to such an empty faith; the religion of broken bottles and burnt polaroids littered across a neutral-toned carpet, bitter and angry over the events of your teenage years. and yet you had become exactly what you had most feared. a shell, a receptacle, a husk, an adult. because for you the years you had spent at school were not saturated with beauty but instead snared within the roots of misfortune, turning you into a hollow vessel for pain.

you had always sworn to yourself you would never be damned to such an empty faith; the religion of broken bottles and burnt polaroids littered across a neutral-toned carpet, bitter and angry over the events of your teenage years. and yet you had become exactly what you had most feared. a shell, a receptacle, a husk, an adult. because for you the years you had spent at school were not saturated with beauty but instead snared within the roots of misfortune, turning you into a hollow vessel for pain.

your memories were of a brown-eyed boy. the way the hair at the nape of his neck curled gently around the back of his throat like the tenderest of snakes. the scent of the books he feasted upon, gorging himself on words and printed inky pages. the curve of his mouth, adorned with his hand-rolled cigarettes and expensive alcohol in glasses that gleamed in the aura of wonder that beamed down upon him. the tears in his eyes as he promised you he’d always remember you. that the war wouldn’t change anything. that you’d always be able to close your eyes and picture his arms encircling you, a cage you would willingly submit yourself to, as he twirled you around the room. that uptown girl would always be your song. that he didn’t kiss sirius at the slug club parties and the truth or dare games or on the top of the astronomy tower, and that he would never leave you.

but he forgot you. the war changed him in ways unexplainable with any words in the human dialect. closing your eyes now conjured the picture of a boy defeated, a boy has broken as he broke you down into stardust and bones. told you that love couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t be enough anymore. you hadn’t felt the caress of those arms in years, the press of his biceps around you, the rhythmic twirling that lulled you into security. uptown girl brought nothing but a sense of agonising loss. and perhaps for you, the relationship had turned sour, a bitter taste in your mouth, the remnants of poison —but that of the holiest concoction, whose saccharine mixture slips down the throat with all the ease of a skater upon the ice. for even though remus has chosen sirius, chosen to destroy the palaces you built with him and shoot your castles out of the air — you were infatuated with him. obsessed with the mere idea of him. everything you’d dreamed was gone, but your burnt polaroids brought you grim satisfaction and your alcohol numbed the overwhelming beige that you were drowning in.

for long ago, the first time remus lupin had told you that he was in love with you, you’d built him a ten-foot-tall pedestal. you’d seized your messiah with an iron vice and distilled him within an orb of crystalline, a clandestine object which you’d claimed to be your heart. all this time you kept him there. and every time the yearning to become a skeleton slinks like a shadow down the soft curvature of your spine you peer in, and observe your angel, your light, your most glorious addiction. you were never one to deny yourself the most delectable of delicacies, and in your foolishness, you had fallen into a trap disguised as a beautiful morsel, and now all you were reduced to was a gaping entry wound.

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𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. ┊ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦. ┊ 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

Gina Gray — PEAKY BLINDERS S06E04

Jennifer’s Body (2009) dir.: Karyn Kusama

ideasbychelsea