#barry st. john

[musicmags]

[mitjalovse]

Several of these long-deserved successes actually ended up as a transition to their musicians' consequent superstar status that surprised them. For instance, Pink Floyd became Pink Floyd with The Dark Side Of The Moon, i.e. they turned from a possible cult band to a rock corporation, though one must admit they kept the former side of them present in all consequent incarnations of the group, think of the way they were rarely photographed on their album covers. However, their breakthrough still sounds like a despair of a collective that cannot deal with the trauma of one of their own. I mean, the entire platter's basically them unsure on how to deal with what happened to Barrett – should they laugh or should they cry? Spoilers for their later LPs – they never got their answer …

[asoftepiloguemylove]

SPEND ALL THE EVENINGS YOU CAN WITH THE PEOPLE WHO RAISED YOU / 'CAUSE ALL THE TIMES THEY WILL CHANGE // ON NOSTALGIA, GROWING UP, AND MOVING ON

Lorde Stoned at the Nail Salon // Djo End of Beginning // Katatsumori (1994) dir. Naomi Kawase (via @octoberdead) // @lettingitlinger1 // Taylor Swift Never Grow Up // 怪物 Monster (2023) dir. Hirokazu Kore-eda // Sam Haft You Will Be Okay (Simon's Lullaby) // Keaton St. James A LIST FOR NIGHTDREAMERS // @chloeinletters // Sylvia Plath Witch Burning from "The Collected Poems" // Aftersun (2022) dir. Charlotte Wells // Lorde Stoned at the Nail Salon // Banana Yoshimoto Kitchen // Moonlight (2016) dir. Barry Jenkins // John Green Looking for Alaska // 방탄소년단 BTS EPILOGUE : YOUNG FOREVER // Stephen Chbosky The Perks of Being a Wallflower // 火垂るの墓 Grave of the Fireflies dir. Isao Takahata

[newyorkthegoldenage]

A lady passing by the shop of Mr. John, milliner to the stars, is attracted by an extravagant model in the window. 57th Street, ca. 1950.

Photo: Al Barry via Three Lions/Getty Images

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in Irish History | 22 August:

565 – St Columba reports seeing a monster in Loch Ness, Scotland. 1755 – Birth of General Jean Joseph Amable Humbert. He was a French soldier, a participant in the French Revolution, who led a failed invasion of Ireland to assist Irish rebels in 1798. 1791 – Theobald Wolfe Tone publishes “An argument on behalf of the Catholics of Ireland”. 1798 – Birth of doctor, writer, abolitionist and…

[makingqueerhistory]

Stonewall Book Awards Nonfiction Winners 2025-1971

Some years had multiple nonfiction winners. How many have you read?

Sex With a Brain Injury: On Concussion and Recovery by Annie Liontas (Scribner, an imprint of Simon & Schuster LLC)

Hijab Butch Blues by Lamya H (The Dial Press)

The Women’s House of Detention: A Queer History of a Forgotten Prison by Hugh Ryan (Bold Type Books)

Faltas: Letters to Everyone in My Hometown Who Isn’t My Rapist by Cecilia Gentili (Little Puss Press)

Dear Senthuran: A Black Spirit Memoir by Akwaeke Emezi (Riverhead Books)

Queer Games Avant-Garde: How LGBTQ Game Makers are Reimagining the Medium of Video Games by Bonnie Ruberg (they/them) (Duke University Press)

How We Fight for Our Lives: A Memoir by Saeed Jones (Simon & Schuster)

Go the Way Your Blood Beats by Michael Amherst (London: Repeater Press)

Queer Threads: Crafting Identity and Community by John Chaich and Todd Oldham (Los Angeles: Ammo Books)

How to Survive a Plague: The inside story of how citizens and science tamed AIDS, by David France (New York: Alfred A. Knopf)

Speak Now: Marriage Equality on Trial, by Kenji Yoshino (New York: Crown Publishers)

Living Out Islam: Voices of Gay, Lesbian, and Transgender Muslims, by Scott Siraj al-Haqq Kugle (New York: New York University Press)

American Honor Killings: Desire and Rage Among Men, by David McConnell (New York : Akashic Books)

Raising My Rainbow: Adventures in Raising a Fabulous, Gender Creative Son, by Lori Duron (New York: Broadway Books, an imprint of Crown Publishing, a division of Random House, Inc.)

For Colored Boys Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Still Not Enough: Coming of Age, Coming Out, and Coming Home, edited by Keith Boykin (New York : Magnus Books)

Hide/Seek: Difference and Desire in American Portraiture, by Jonathan D. Katz and David C. Ward (Washington, D.C. : Smithsonian Books)

A Queer History of the United States (Revisioning American History), by Michael Bronski (Boston, Mass. : Beacon Press)

Inseparable: Desire between Women in Literature by Emma Donoghue, (Knopf)

Unfriendly Fire: How the Gay Ban Undermines the Military and Weakens America by Nathaniel Frank, (St. Martin's Press)

Dishonorable Passions: Sodomy Laws in America, 1861-2003 by William N. Eskridge, Jr., (Viking)

Dog Years: A Memoir by Mark Doty, (HarperCollins)

Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic by Alison Bechdel, (Houghton Mifflin)

The fabulous Sylvester: the legend, the music, the seventies in San Francisco by Joshua Gamson, (H. Holt)

Evolution's Rainbow: Diversity, Gender, and Sexuality in Nature and in People by Joan Roughgarden, (University of California Press)

Lost Prophet: The Life and Times of Bayard Rustin by John D'Emilio, (Free Press)

How Sex Changed: a History of Transsexuality in the United States by Joanne Meyerowitz, ( Harvard University Press)

The Scarlet Professor: Newton Arvin, a Literary Life Shattered by Scandal by Barry Werth, (Nan A. Talese)

Gaylaw: Challenging the Apartheid of the Closet by William N. Eskridge, (Harvard University Press)

My Lesbian Husband: Landscape of a Marriage by Barrie Jean Borich, (Greywolf Press)

Stagestruck: Theater, AIDS, and the Marketing of Gay America by Sarah Schulman, (Duke University Press)

The Shared Heart: Portraits and Stories Celebrating Lesbian, Gay, and Bisexual Young People by Adam Mastoon, (William Morrow and Co./Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Books)

Geography of the Heart: A Memoir by Fenton Johnson, (Scribner)

Virtual Equality: The Mainstreaming of Gay and Lesbian Liberation by Urvashi Vaid, (Anchor Books)

Skin: Talking About Sex, Class & Literature Dorothy Allison, (Firebrand Books)

Uncommon Heroes: A Celebration of Heroes and Role Models for Gay and Lesbian Americans by Phillip Sherman and Samuel Bernstein, (Fletcher Press)

Family Values: Two Moms and Their Son by Phyllis Burke, (Random House)

Making History: The Struggle for Gay and Lesbian Equal Rights, 1945-1990 by Eric Marcus, (HarperCollins)

Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers: A History of Lesbian Life in Twentieth Century America by Lillian Faderman, (Columbia University Press)

Encyclopedia of Homosexuality edited by Wayne Dynes, (Garland)

In Search of Gay America: Women and Men in a Time of Change by Neil Miller, (Atlantic Monthly Press)

A Restricted Country by Joan Nestle, (Firebrand Books)

And the Band Played On: Politics, People, and the AIDS Epidemic by Randy Shilts, (St. Martin's Press)

The Spirit and the Flesh: Sexual Diversity in American Indian Culture by Walter Williams, (Beacon Press)

Sex and Germs: The Politics of AIDS by Cindy Patton, (South End Press)

Another Mother Tongue: Gay Words, Gay Worlds by Judy Grahn, (Beacon Press)

Sexual Politics, Sexual Communities: The Making of a Homosexual Minority in the United States, 1940-1970 by John D'Emilio, (University of Chicago Press)

Surpassing the Love of Men: Romantic Friendship and Love Between Women from the Renaissance to the Present by Lillian Faderman, (Morrow)

Black Lesbians: An Annotated Bibliography by J.R. Roberts, (Naiad Press)

The Celluloid Closet: Homosexuality in the Movies by Vito Russo, (Harper & Row)

The Cancer Journals by Audre Lorde, (Spinsters, Ink)

Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality: Gay People in Western Europe from the Beginning of the Christian Era to the Fourteenth Century by John Boswell, (University of Chicago Press)

Now That You Know: What Every Parent Should Know About Homosexuality by Betty Fairchild and Nancy Hayward, (Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich)

Our Right to Love: A Lesbian Resource Book edited by Ginny Vida, (Prentice-Hall)

Familiar Faces, Hidden Lives: The Story of Homosexual Men in America Today by Howard Brown, (Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich)

Homosexuality: Lesbians and Gay Men in Society, History, and Literature edited by Jonathan Katz, (Arno Press) [Series of historically significant reprints]

Sex Variant Women in Literature: A Historical and Quantitative Survey by Jeannette Foster, (Vantage Press)

The Gay Mystique: The Myth and Reality of Male Homosexuality by Peter Fisher, (Stein & Day)

Lesbian/Woman by Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon (Glide Publications)

A Place for Us by Isabel Miller, (published in October, 1971 by McGraw Hill as Patience and Sarah )

[gardenschedule]

Beatles defending each other ❤️

Link to masterpost of quote compilations

In 1965 [the Byrds] toured England and Paul invited us to his club, the Scotch of St James’s [sic]. He sent a limo to pick us up. He said he had been listening to our music. We were blown away. He took us for a ride through London in his Aston Martin, at great speed. He was really hip, he and John were so tight it was like one person at times. Unlike the Byrds, [where] Crosby would just leave you out to dry, the Beatles all defended each other to the hilt. If you criticised, say, George then they would all respond.

Roger McGuinn, in Paul McCartney: Now & Then, Tony Barrow and Robin Bextor

“They’re four very different people who together form a unit that is virtually impregnable. If, for instance, someone should find fault with anything one of them has done, the others rush to his defence. They close their ranks. They’re very close indeed. A lot closer than people think.”

George Martin, Disc and Music Echo (1967)

And actually, we’ve got the image of him all these years about criticising Paul – yeah, he did, but it’s like [when] you criticise your wife. “I can criticise her, but you can’t.” I was there once when some guy was saying that he didn’t think ‘Let It Be’ was such a great record, and he thought John would agree, and he didn’t.

November 10th, 2009: Journalist Ray Connolly

Q: How did Paul react [to “How Do You Sleep”]?

John: I don’t know because I never saw him, but I think he made a comment last year which was pretty spot-on which was ‘whatever I’m saying about him is my problem, or vice versa.’ The only regret I have about it is that it should never have been about Paul because everybody’s so bothered with who’s it about that they missed the track. That’s what bugged me. I’m entitled to call him what I want to, and vice versa. It’s in our family, but if somebody else calls him names I won’t take it. It’s our own business. And anyway, it’s like Dylan said about his stuff when he looked back on it, it was all about him.

Patrick Synder-Scrumpy with Jack Breschard, “Sometime in L.A., Lennon Plays It as It Lays.” Crawdaddy [March 1974]

"When John did 'How Do You Sleep?' I didn't want to get into a slinging match. Part of it was cowardice. John was a great wit, and I didn't want to go fencing with the rapier champion of East Cheam-- But it meant that I had to take shit--It meant that I had to take lines like 'All you ever did was Yesterday.' I always find myself wanting to excuse John's behavior, just because I loved him. It's like a child, sure he was a naughty child, but don't you call my child naughty. Even if it's me he's shitting on, don't you call him naughty. That's how I felt about this and still do. I don't have a grudge whatsoever against John. I think he knew exactly what he was doing, and, because we had been so intimate, he knew what would hurt me and used it to great effect. I thought, 'Keep your head down and time will tell,' and it did because in the 'Imagine' film (Imagine John Lennon, documentary), he says it was really all about himself."

Barry Miles, Many Years From Now, 1997

“Well the deal was, he could say that, but if you said that, if anybody said anything bad about Paul, John’d take a swing at you. He’d say “you can’t talk about Paul like that”, Paul was his best buddy. If you were talking to Paul and you said something derogatory about John, he’d get up and leave. Paul was more of a peaceful guy, but John had that hot head, and he’d say “you wanna talk about Paul? Let’s go”. You weren’t allowed to say anything bad about John or Paul to each one of them because they would defend each other to the nth degree, which I liked, because you could tell they were attached at the hip.

Alice Cooper Live and Uncut on the Kim Mitchell Show

You know, John loved Paul. No doubt about it. I remember once he said to me, “I’m the only person who’s allowed to say things like that about Paul. I don’t like it when other people do.” He didn’t like if other people said nasty things about Paul. And he always referred to Paul as his estranged fiancé and things like that, like he did on that [live] record ‘I Saw Her Standing There’ with Elton in Madison Square Garden. And he knew that his relationship with Paul was very important to him. But you know, like all great friendships, they’d grown apart and married different people and had different lives. He knew what he didn’t like about Paul, but he also knew what he liked about Paul.

1990: Former Beatles publicist Tony King

George didn’t mind slagging Paul off. But he HATED other people doing it.

Tom Petty

When I talk about George, sometimes I feel like I’m making him sound too much like he was a saint. By no means was the man a saint! Over the years with him and John, they could both be really brutal with Paul. I learned very early on that I couldn’t join them. They both on different occasions said, “We can say that, but you shouldn’t.” They were truly brothers who loved taking the piss out of each other, but they didn’t want anybody else doing it.

Jim Keltner on George Harrison

I felt protective of George. He was a long way from home and seemed to miss the attention of his family. The other boys were more grown up and so were a little less concerned with all that. I know, for example, that he always looked up to John, and probably even Stu, as big-brother figures. And conversely, it was sometimes difficult for them not to see George as something of a pain for being so young. Still, in their own way, they loved him. We all did. Even when things were pretty rough they all stuck together. They often argued amongst themselves, but just let an outsider have a go at one of them and the sparks would fly. At first they were close out of necessity; later it was out of love.”

Astrid Kirchherr

[mytherbalegwladys]

I hope Sally Acorn, Bunnie Rabbot, Rotor, Antoine D'Coolette, Nicole, Gold, Lupe, Honey, Mighty, Ray, Trip, Julie-Su, Tangle, Whisper, Jewel, Lanolin, Surge, Kitsunami, Mina Mongoose, Sonia, Manic, Sticks, Marine, Gemerl, Fang, Bean and Bark will be in this game. :)

I want to hear their voices for the first time. English, japanese and french.

(Sorry if I forget Tails Doll, Mecha Knuckles, Dulcy, Geoffrey St. John, Heavy and Bomb, Lien-Da, Cosmo, Shade, Belle, Starline, Barry, a mysterious new character, Tiara Boobowski, Thrash, Infinite, Rough and Tumble. ^^;)

[tavolgisvist]

Norwegian Wood

(Allan Williams, The Man Who Gave the Beatles Away, 1976)

I once had a girl Or should I say, she once had me? She showed me her room "Isn't it good, Norwegian wood?" She asked me to stay And she told me to sit anywhere So I looked around And I noticed there wasn't a chair And when I awoke I was alone, this bird had flown So I lit a fire Isn't it good, Norwegian wood?

(Norwegian Wood, 1965)

NORWEGIAN WOOD: Me but Paul helped me on the lyric.

(John Lennon, interview for Hit Parader, 1972)

Q: What about on Rubber Soul, “Norwegian Wood”? A: I was trying to write about an affair without letting me wife know I was writing about an affair, so it was very gobbledegook. I was sort of writing from my experiences, girls’ flats, things like that. <…> I think on “Norwegian Wood” and “In My Life” Paul helped with the middle eight, to give credit where it’s due.

(John Lennon, interview with Jann Wenner for Rolling Stone, 1970)

PLAYBOY: “Norwegian Wood.” LENNON: “Norwegian Wood” is my song completely. It was about an affair I was having. I was very careful and paranoid because I didn’t want my wife, Cyn, to know that there really was something going on outside of the household. I’d always had some kind of affairs going, so I was trying to be sophisticated in writing about an affair. But in such a smoke-screen way that you couldn’t tell. But I can’t remember any specific woman it had to do with. PLAYBOY: What about the title itself? LENNON: I don’t know how the hell I got to “Norwegian Wood.”

(John Lennon (interview, 1980), All We Are Saying by David Sheff)

John had begun it [Norwegian Wood] in February 1965 while on a skiing holiday with Cynthia and George Martin and his wife Judy in St. Moritz in Switzerland. When he returned, Paul came over for a writing session in John's music room in the attic at Kenwood. This is another example of a song more or less writing itself, beginning with a classic Beatles play on words: "having" a girl and being "had". PAUL: I came in and he had this first stanza, which was brilliant: "I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me." That was all he had, no title, no nothing. I said, "Oh yes, well, ha, we're there." And it wrote itself. Once you've got the great idea, they do tend to write themselves, providing you know how to write songs. So I picked it up at the second verse, it's a story. It's him trying to pull a bird, it was about an affair. John told Playboy that he hadn't the faintest idea where the title came from but I do. Peter Asher had his room done out in wood, a lot of people were decorating their places in wood. Norwegian wood. It was pine really, cheap pine. But it's not as good a title, "Cheap Pine", baby. So it was a little parody really on those kind of girls who when you'd go to their flat there would be a lot of Norwegian wood. It was completely imaginary from my point of view but in John's it was based on an affair he had. This wasn't the decor of someone's house, we made that up. So she makes him sleep in the bath and then finally in the last verse I had this idea to set the Norwegian wood on fire as revenge, so we did it very tongue in cheek. She led him on, then said, "You'd better sleep in the bath." In our world the guy had to have some sort of revenge. It could have meant I lit a fire to keep myself warm, and wasn't the decor of her house wonderful? But it didn't, it meant I burned the fucking place down as an act of revenge, and then we left it there and went into the instrumental.

(Paul McCartney in Many Years from Now by Barry Miles, 1998)

+ fire and wood at Gambia Terrace

+ the Macs-firebugs

[bronzecats]

National Rainbow Week of Action in Canada

In this post I have compiled all the information I could find regarding upcoming events for the Rainbow Week of Action. There are two online events, and dozens on in-person events across the country.

"Within the Rainbow Week of Action, we are pushing governments and elected officials at every level to take action for Rainbow Equality and address rising anti-2SLGBTQIA+ hate. As such, we have identified calls to action for every level of government. These calls to action can be reviewed here."

Event list below:

Events are listed in date order, provinces in general west-to-east order. I have included as much detail as possible, please reference the links at the bottom of the post. At this time, there are no events in N.W.T. and Nova Scotia. Last updated: May 14th, 9:53pm PDT. Please note that I am not officially affiliated with / an organizer of these events, I have simply compiled all the dates to share on tumblr. Original post content.

B.C. EVENTS:

15th: Fernie; Fernie Seniors Drop-In Centre, 572 3rd Avenue, 6:00PM. (Letter writing and Potluck)

17th: Vancouver; šxʷƛ̓ənəq Xwtl'e7énḵ Square - Vancouver Art Gallery North Plaza, 750 Hornby St, 5:30PM. (Rally)

19th, Sunday: Abbotsford; Jubilee Park, 5:00PM. (Rally)

ALBERTA EVENTS:

15th: Lethbridge; McKillop United Church, 2329 15th Ave S, 12:00-1:00PM (letter writing)

17th, Friday: Calgary; Central Memorial Park, 1221 2 St SW, 5:30PM. (Rally)

17th: Edmonton; Wilbert McIntyre Park, 8331 104 St NW, 6:00PM. (Rally)

SASKATCHEWAN EVENTS:

17th: Saskatoon; Vimy Memorial Park, 500 Spadina Crescent E, 5:30PM. (Rally)

17th: Regina; Legislative Grounds, 2405 Legislative Dr, 6:30PM. (Rally)

May 18th: Saskatoon; Grovenor Park United Church, 407 Cumberland Ave S, 6:00PM. (Art event)

MANITOBA EVENTS:

16th: Carman; Paul's Place, 20 1 Ave SW, 7:00-9:00PM. (Letter writing)

19th: Winnipeg; Manitoba Legislature, 450 Broadway, 12:00PM. (Rally)

ONTARIO EVENTS:

15th: Barrie; UPlift Black, 12 Dunlop St E, 6:00-7:30PM. (Letter writing)

15th: Chatham; CK Gay Pride Association, 48 Centre St, 5:00-6:30PM. (Letter writing)

15th: Peterborough; Trinity Community Centre, 360 Reid St, 12:00-3:00PM. (Letter writing)

16th: Midland; Midland Public Library, 4:30-7:30PM. (Letter writing and pizza)

16th: Ottawa; Impact Hub, 123 Slater Street, 2:00PM. (Letter writing)

16th: Toronto; Barbara Hall Park, 519 Church St, 11:30AM. (Rally)

17th, Friday: Barrie; City Hall, 70 Collier St, 6:00PM. (Rally)

17th: Cornwall; 167 Pitt St, 5:30PM. (Rally)

17th: Essex; St. Paul's Anglican Church, 92 St. Paul St, 6:00-8:00PM. (Letter writing and pizza)

17th: Hamilton; City Hall, 71 Main St W, 6:00PM. (Rally)

17th: Kitchener; City Hall, 200 King St W, 6:00PM. (Rally)

17th: London; City Hall, 300 Dufferin Ave, 6:00PM. (Rally)

17th: Sarnia; City Hall, 255 Christina St N, 1:00PM. (Rally)

17th: Sault Ste Marie; City Hall, 99 Foster Dr, 11:30AM. (Rally)

17th: Ottawa; Confederation Park, Elgin St, 5:30PM. (Rally)

22nd: Renfrew; 161 Raglan St. South, 7:00PM. (Letter writing, fashion and makeup event, and pizza)

QUEBEC EVENTS:

May 15th: Lachute; CDC Lachute, 57, rue Harriet, 12:30PM. (Letter writing event)

NEW BRUNSWICK EVENTS:

17th: Woodstock; Citizen's Square, Chapel St, Next to the L.P. Fisher Public Library, 12:00-1:00PM. (rally)

17th: Saint John; City Hall, 15 Market Square, 12:30PM. (Rally, flag raising)

18th, Saturday: Fredericton; Legislative Grounds, 706 Queen Street, 1:00PM. (Rally)

NOVA SCOTIA EVENTS:

May 17th: Middleton; NSCC AVC RM 121, 6:30-8:30PM (letter writing and pizza)

P.E.I. EVENTS:

May 15th: Charlottetown; Peers Alliance Office, 250B Queen Street, 6:00-8:00PM. (Adult drop-in)

May 16th: Charlottetown, Peers Alliance Office, 250B Queen Street, 6:00-7:00PM.

May 17th: Charlottetown; PEI Legislative Assembly, 165 Richmond St, 12:00PM. (Rally)

YUKON EVENTS:

16th: Whitehorse; The Cache, 4230 4 Ave, 2:00-7:00PM. (Letter writing)

NUNAVUT EVENTS:

May 16th, Thursday: Iqaluit; Four Corners, 922 Niaqunngusiariaq St, 5:00PM. (Letter writing)

Reference links:

About the Rainbow Week of Action.

Website letter writing events list (does not include all events)

General events website list (does not include all events)

Instagram general events image list

Instagram letter writing / pizza party image list

[delayeddrabbles]

imagine being loved by me - mob au (available by request)

a/n: it's missing my mob au hours so I'm reposting the chapters here for safe keeping and making it available for drabble requests rather than a series. mob au rafia and rarry feat. bi!rafe, arranged marriage, shotgun wedding, gang violence, drugs, cheating, emotional immaturity. cop!kie, cop!pope, gang!jj, gang!cleo, and obx sarah & john b just chilling living their life. cw long post. gradient: text color fader - sunset and divider: @bernardsbendystraws

chapter one: the butterfly effect

Not all mistakes are created equal. Some come charging in on a stormy night, bringing death and destruction, while others slip in silently on an otherwise unremarkable Thursday afternoon with unknown ramifications...

For Rafe Cameron that life altering moment came at the tender age of 19. That lynch pin of his life, that axel on which everything else turned, was the day he met Barry “Barracuda” Rosini (he still wasn’t fully convinced that that last name wasn’t a lie) in the shadows of a pretentious Wall Street party. Between his sophomore and junior year of college, he’d signed up for a summer internship with a property mogul, desperate to get out of Chapel Hill and eager to cut his teeth on something real, prove his metal.

He'd only been to New York once before when his mum had wanted to visit an old college friend. She’d gotten too sick to sight see and they’d had to cut the trip short and come home. So arriving at Penn had filled the floppy haired teen with an odd sinking dread.

Barry had been a breath of fresh air in comparison. He wasn’t shrinking or antsy or uncertain. He was bold and brash and loud. He’d let him drink, smoke weed and try drugs he’d never had before (in responsible limited doses of course. Apparently, overdoses were bad for business). Nothing had been barred. Everything had been permitted, and he’d coached him through all of it. He was a steady hand. A blank cheque. A door to another world and Chapel Hill had paled in comparison upon his return. An empty crevice had been left by Barry’s absence. He'd longed for New York ever since.

The second his dad had mentioned expanding Cameron Development into actually holding and running the properties they’d created instead of flipping him he’d volunteered to expand them into the hotel business. And where better to do that than amongst the skyscrapers of New York where they already owned a huge portfolio of apartment blocks and where Barry just happened to be.

What had started out as buying drugs, quickly turned into pushing them. What began as friendly poker games in Rafe’s loft quickly turned into meeting half of Barry’s crew and an open-door policy for whoever Barry wanted. By the time he met Sofia, Rafe was deep within the web. He stuck to Barry’s side like glue any spare moment he could, learning all he could.

He quickly figured out that he could fight matches and win money and that he could purposely throw matches and make even more money. Barry was always pleased when a hustle went off without a hitch and, when given the right motivation, Rafe loved the spotlight.

Rafe liked to think he was above clichés. Hitting on cocktail waitresses in rooms full of smoke and dirty money felt like the biggest cliché of all. Thankfully, Sofia wasn’t a waitress she was a bartender and her place of work was a cosy Irish pub not one of the backwater clubs he usually hung out in. Topper and Kelce had purposely come to town to get trashed on St Patricks Day and so he’d departed from his usual places and his usual routine and set foot in Maybank territory. Sofia had been…she’d been something else.

Next thing he knew weeks had flown by and he still, surprisingly, wasn’t sick of her.

For Sofia Marquez, that life-altering moment came much later in life and with far less fanfare. It had come after a few short weeks of them being tangled up together unable to stay away. Any spare moment they could find they knocked on each other’s doors. That crucial moment had originally felt so ordinary.

It had been the split-second indulgent decision, 4am on a Sunday morning, to let Rafe Cameron crawl into her bed in her tiny studio apartment on a quiet street in Brooklyn. Long after the CVS and the bodega had closed and the closest 7-Eleven was three blocks away. Looking back, it was obvious the risk she had run by even letting him set foot in her home but at the time she’d been too cosy and half-asleep and he’d been too drunk and eager for either of them to care.

That was until a few weeks later when her life changed virtually overnight at a measly 23 years old. She went from having a steady bartending job, on her way to making management, being single and renting a shitty studio to standing in a penthouse apartment right on the park with a positive pregnancy test and  a 22 year old fiancé she'd known for all of two seconds.

Well obviously more than two seconds.

She'd expected disappointment when she told him but the look on his face verged on disdain. As if this was her fault. As if she’d planned this to entrap him. As if it disrupted his plans and not hers!

He thankfully caught himself just in time before she bubbled over in anger and quickly raised his hands in defence with wide blue eyes and corrected himself. "I'm not...this isn't...” he struggled to find the right words, scratching his short hair as he thought, before mumbling a feeble excuse in defeat, “the best time."

Everything about his apartment felt cold and sparse and lonely. Like the opening shots of a bachelor pad in one of her mother’s cheesy rom coms. All concrete pillars and muted steel and dark wood. The softest thing in his bedroom was this plush grey rug beneath his bed that she’d retreated to in this desperate hour, needing something warm and comforting while everything else fell apart.

They both sat slumped on the floor side by side with their backs pressed to the cool metal frame and dark smooth comforter of the bed as an unhelpful reminder. The room was painted in the dusty blue light of the city glare, scattered with fragments of moonlight, their forlorn faces illuminated by a single bedside lamp and the distant glow of the light from the hallway. None of this had gone to plan.

"Yeah, well I'm not the one who whined about how condoms feel!" she'd scoffed, his look already offending her despite him quickly retracting it. “That’s on you” Her body coursed with venom and adrenaline and her eyes scanned his face for each little twitch and shift furiously collecting and cataloguing each red flag, each scrap of information. Analysing whether this child would be safe with him. This was a huge decision. It had taken her three weeks and four tests to pluck up the courage to even raise it with him.

Sofia turned away sulking as the harshness of her words caught up with her, she wrapped her arms tight around her tucked up knees, clinging to them for the support she knew she wouldn't get from him. "I'm sorry" she'd sighed, wiping away involuntary hot tears that trickled down her cheeks and smeared and shone beneath her eyes. "That isn't fair...” she whispered, We're both adults..." Barely. She pushed down the terror raging inside of her and instead of focused on shepherding him through this conversation.

"Do you wanna go somewhere? Talk about options?"

"I don't need options.”  She stated firmly. She wanted to do this. Even if it was too soon. Even if it was foolish. “I'm not considering anything else." As progressive as a Catholic as she was, an abortion just wasn’t within her remit of possibility. Others, sure, but not her. Not today. If this was where life was leading her then she was choosing to follow it.

"Fuck...." he dragged out the curse in a groan as if the reality of the situation had finally hit him. She had to remind herself to be calm and kind and patient. She'd been thinking about this for days. He'd only a had a few hours. He growled in frustration and let his face fall inside his folded arms that rested on his knees. He hid there for a moment and her stomach tangled into nervous knots as she watched and waited.

While she could do this alone, with her Mom and Abuela, that wasn't the ideal outcome. It would be much easier if they could do this together. But a few weeks was hardly a foundation to build a life or a partnership on. After a long silence, he sat up rubbing his eyes with his finger and thumb that then squeezed the bridge of his nose. He seemed reluctant. Disgruntled even. Like he was trying to wrap his tired brain around it. Trying to plot his escape.

Then he’d suddenly changed.

"Right!" She'd nearly jumped out of her skin when he'd sprung to his feet and muttered something to himself about being proactive and thinking like his father. "I'm gonna do this now before I punk out"

"Do what?" she craned and twisted her neck to watch him march around to the other side of the bed and into the walk-in closet. It was that determined stride that had gotten them into this mess in the first place.

Sofia smiled at her own private joke for a moment as he lifted up onto his tip toes and rummaged through the boxes on the top shelf. Her mind cleared of all urgency and distrust for a moment as she took him in. His dark blond buzz cut already growing out, his stubble too seemed darker in the dim blue light, little hints of tattoos peeked out from under his white dress-shirt collar and his rolled and crumpled white sleeves. His suit jacket was somewhere in the living room after they’d cut their dinner date short to come back to his to talk. Maybe he’d thought she’d wanted to define things, she thought, and he hadn’t wanted to do that in public. If this hadn’t cropped up now she would have happily left things undefined and casual for way longer. It was unfair really. To have dropped it on him like this.

She admired him as he moved - those long tanned veiny forearms littered with track marks and scars, the way his fingers moved deftly, the way the thick muscles in his back stretched, how his tongue ran over his bottom lip in concentration. Maybe keeping him her in life, beyond whatever this brief affair had been, wouldn’t be so bad.

He found what he was looking for and her wandering thoughts were rudely interrupted.

“Sit” he instructed quickly, and she complied. There was an intense focus still in his eyes as he walked back around the bed and sat beside her on the edge of it. The mattress sank under his weight sliding her towards him, so their thighs pressed tightly together. She was grateful for that contact. She needed that thread of connection to him in the midst of this calamity.

In his lap was a small non-descript brown shoe box. He took off the lid and started loading loose items into her open hands, searching for something: photos, postcards, ticket stubs, little baby feet set in plaster.

Her stomach clenched, and she gasped sharply through her nose, as she realised what was happening. “Rafe…”

“Ah!” he tutted with a raised finger in her face to chide her and demand silence. His eyes were more amused than malicious which only confirmed her suspicions.

“You don’t have t-” he cut her off before she could protest.

“Shh and let me think…” He continued to dig through the box shoving its contents from side to side, rustling and clinking as it moved. Sofia’s eyes fell on his face in the photo in her lap. A tiny little thing with a mess of ashy hair and bright blue eyes half closed as a genuine teeth half missing grin dominated his face. A blonde woman squishing his face tightly against her cheek without him squirming.

He stopped moving, catching a quick tentative glance at the photo in her lap in silence. He stayed there. Watching her out of the corner of his eye uncomfortably as she studied him. He was so different now. Weathered and cautious. Explosive and sensitive. No longer care-free.

He turned back to his hunt with an embarrassed duck of his head and finally found what he was looking for – a pale green velvet ring box buried beneath the endless paper. Even though she’d known it was coming, her heart still leapt to her throat.

She tugged on the hem of her black sweater dress and fidgeted with the cuffs of her sleeves. She fixed her bun and her bangs and toyed with her gold hoop earrings as he shifted to kneel in front of her with both shins flat on the floor and his legs tucked under him.

Shit, this was actually happening.

Sofia clenched the fabric of her sleeves in tight fists and bit deep into her bottom lip. Urgent eyes searched his for some kind of hesitation. Some kind of trick. Her heart pounding in her chest and her throat clamping shut. His head was still slightly bowed. His eyes searching the middle distance for the right words. He seemed to find them as he wet his lips to speak.

“Look...” he took a deep shaky breath “I like you...you don't care about any of the meaningless shit the rest of the people in my life care about... You're… cool."  She’d laughed at the simplicity and innocence of that adjective, quickly covering her smile with her sleeve. He made it sound like a high school crush. God, he barely knew her at all! She watched him with warm eyes as he ducked his head and rolled his tongue into his cheek and avoided her very direct gaze. "You're grounded and I...I need that. Life's about to get real crazy for me and I want you…with me. And if this is how that timeline’s gonna go to make that happen then fine.  Let's do it"

This whole situation was absolutely absurd. She laughed and wiped away stray involuntary tears before admitting through another bright smile "I don't even know what you do?!"

"Hotels"

"Ok...” she’d murmured with a quick nod, making a mental note of that “And Barry?"

"Yeah…” he’d winced at the question, reluctantly admitting “Barry's into some dodgy shit."

"You too?" she’d asked perhaps a little too quickly and casually for his liking. He paused. He studied her with deep probing eyes and a furrowed brow, probably calculating his odds of getting out of this conversation. His odds were very slim. If she was going to hitch her wagon to his she needed to know where it was headed.  

He finally conceded and nodded sheepishly. Avoiding her eye with a gruff mumbled "Is that going to be a problem?"

Sofia lifted her eyes to take in what she suspected would soon be her room too. The soft small grey chaise in the corner with forest green pillows overlooking the glittering skyline, the glimpse of white marble floors through the ajar ensuite door, the Slim Aarons beach photography collection dotted throughout the house, probably reminding him of home. "Do you do things here?" she murmured still deep in thought.

She caught his nod out of the corner of her eye and turned back to him. She worked her bottom lip between her teeth as her mind twisted and turned. This place needed to be a sanctuary. If she was going to feel comfortable enough to be pregnant and sore and awkward and to breast feed and pace in the middle of the night then it had to peaceful. It had to be safe. He’d already told her he’d been mugged at least twice and the thought of strangers waltzing in and out of their home was the last thing she needed. There would be no walls. She would have no control. There would be no protection for her or the baby. She couldn’t have that.

“Can you stop doing it here?”

He opened his mouth to protest but stopped. His jaw shifted from side to side and his mind worked over the problem. “I can ask. I can’t promise he’ll say yes”

Her white knuckles unwound reluctantly, and she reached out her finger and thumb to lift his chin and make him look at her. He swallowed thickly as her voice dipped to a low private whisper, a flicker of fear buried deep beneath the warm intimacy that shone in her brown eyes. "Am I safe with you?"

Her stomach tensed, bracing for his response but he answered without hesitation. "Always"

“You weren’t mugged, were you?”

He shook his head.

"Who actually jumped you?"

He huffed a frustrated scoff that made her flinch for a moment but his eyes wandered the room as if dipping into a memory. Conjuring up anger at someone absent. His jaw tensed and that fury seethed just beneath the surface of his skin. “Some assholes under Maybank in Brooklyn. That’s where he likes to hang out.” He avoided her eye, using his free hand to toy with hem of her dress as he relayed the information through gritted teeth. " They thought I was up to no good when I was literally just there to see you!"

"Right..." she noted, the wheels working overtime in her brain "What did you do to piss him off?"

He laughed, amazed and little exasperated. "You ask a lot of questions!”

"I like to know what I'm in for"

"Babe, this floor is really hard!" he whined and the pet-name and the sudden warm hand on her knee caught her off guard. Her stomach somersaulted and her cheeks flushed, and a smile threatened to cross her lips disrupting this serious moment.

So this was to be their life now. Tenderness and discovery and bickering. Sweet nothings and vacations and partnership. She’d pouted with mock sympathy at the poor baby earning a delicious laugh from him as she brushed her fingers through the short strains of his hair until both her arms came to rest around his neck

"You're sober right now?"

He’d nodded looking up her with amused warm blue eyes and a tiny knowing smile as she dragged this on and on. He’d opened the ring box as proof he was serious just to nudge her that little bit further and it had revealed a glittering diamond far beyond anything she’d ever imagined for herself.

"And you’re sure?"

“Yes”

A ‘yes’ crept up onto her tongue flattening it with the weight of that word. It held too much gravitas. Too much meaning. It would alter lives and move mountains if she so much as muttered it and she felt too unholy to say it. It got stuck on her tongue and she had to cut through the tension and terror with casual semantics. To make this feel like less than it was. Like a conversation that happened every day.  

"Then Ok"

chapter two: black sheep

Sofia was exhausted. Planning a wedding was hard enough without meeting a whole family, struggling with morning sickness, and still processing the onslaught of new information her fiancé was throwing at her.

It felt safer to not move in until after the wedding. Not for any purity’s sake but because she still needed that out. She still hadn’t quite wrapped her mind around him.

To curb his irritation and preserve his energy they’d come up with a system. She’d scribble down all her questions in a notebook in her handbag or on the bedside table and then each morning after he’d make breakfast, and she’d rattle off 5 of the most pressing ones while he could multi-task and process them more easily. She’d even caught herself seducing him now and then when a lingering what-if got particularly nagging. She wasn’t proud of it, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Were the hotels a front? No, they were legit.

Did his dad know? He knew Rafe was in with the wrong crowd, but he just chalked it up to his drug addiction.

How long had he known Barry? Almost four years.

How long had he worked for Barry? About two. On and off.

Why off? He’d chickened out at first.

As her morning sickness worsened and the hormones increased, they drifted a little. She’d rather be in her own room in her own bed and not have to fight the urge to smother him in his sleep for breathing too loudly. Because of that she hadn’t seen Barry since the engagement.

She wondered how he’d react to all this. Was she pulling Rafe’s focus? Would he be pissed?

The dark cave she seemed to find herself in only got deeper and darker with each knew thing she learned. Endless caverns. Winding tunnels. Piles upon piles of secrets. Was she being a complete idiot by staying tied to this man? She could see every red flag, every warning sign and yet as the weeks went by, she was showing no signs of stopping.

All those half-finished psych papers she’d taken at community college had been right. Oxytocin was a bitch. Each time she had doubts he kissed them better. Each time she got mad he was a little bit into it.

So, they pushed and pulled and jostled for power. Testing each other. Distrusting each other. It was a long exhausting process, and she knew it wasn’t even half done. They couldn’t go back and forth like this forever. Sofia knew she had to find a way to keep herself from freaking. Journalling and fucking and long hot baths could only do so much. She’d stumbled right into a different world and had her life upended. Of course she was going to struggle to adjust!

Shrinks were sworn to secrecy, right?

Rafe had shot down that idea immediately sending fury racing through her tired baby brain. Since when was he, her keeper?!

“I don’t care how legit he seems. Someone somewhere will still pressure him to report what you say!”

“You don’t know that?!”

Their first proper fight broke out in the middle of his living room and dragged on until the blue light of dusk began to tarnish their vision and no lights had been turned on. She clenched the white shag rug between her toes in an attempt to restrain her anger and hold her ground.

“It’s a crime, Sof! They’ll convince him it’s the right thing to do!”

“They have to keep everything confidential!”

“No” That firm sudden no stopped her dead in her tracks. Her stomach clenched tightly. He quickly shifted from someone irritating in her eyes to someone appalling. She gaped at him, brows raised, and arms folded, practically begging him to try that one more time. 

“No...?”

“No” he held his ground, his voice low and quiet like distant rumbles of thunder. “It’s my secret. Not yours”

Sofia stared at him amazed, her stomach sinking with cold dread. For a moment the only sound was the huffing hot breaths coming out of his flaring nose. Her fiery brown eyes swept over his pressed lips, tight jaw, and stormy blue eyes locked in on hers. Sofia refused to be the one to break first, stepping forward as she found her voice again.

“You made it my problem when you started sleeping with me. What? Am I just supposed to stay locked up here in a tower!”

“No! but you’re supposed to listen to me!”

“I am listening to you but I’m going to disagree with you! God!” she reached her wits end bubbling over in exasperation and frustration “Have you never done this before?!”

All air left the room as his eyes widened and she saw his brain halt mid-thought. His tight lips melted into a soft full wide pout that startled her.

Oh shit

Her anger sizzled and died.

He hadn’t

“I…”  she tentatively stepped towards him, struggling to find the right words. But he had talked such a big game? And done some many things so perfectly? How could he…Commitment. Maybe it was the intimacy and the commitment. Relationships meant divulging secrets and joining lives and opening yourself up for rejection. Perhaps he’d always stayed half invested. Half awake. Hidden. She let her voice drop to soft and private beg and she reached a gentle hand out to rest on his folded arms “I need something, baby…or else I’m gonna go crazy. This is all normal for you now. It’s not for me…”

He ducked his head and shifted his weight between his feet as her words ran through his mind again. Sofia watched him wearily. Eventually he nodded in agreement, but he still mumbled his words, his eyes never leaving his feet. “Sarah knows some things you can talk to her, and I’ll reach out to Phoebe, Bar’s old roommate. If you use the right apps, you should be able to be fully honest without anyone finding out.”

She nodded with a grateful doting smile as she hooked his hand out from within his crossed arms, pressed against his side, and clasped between both of her own and kissed his knuckles.

“Thank you”

 In less than six weeks, Sarah Cameron had planned the majority of the most last-minute extravagant wedding The Cathedral of St John the Baptist had ever seen. It was too short notice to rent anywhere in New York and shifting to Charleston kept costs and numbers low. No questions. No unwelcome guests from across the river. No unwanted gossip.

Rafe had never seen his sister so organised or her idiot boyfriend so subservient, at her beck and call like a dog. He followed her orders so dutifully it was almost revolting.

Sarah and Sofia had immediately hit it off over Facetime and she’d implemented Sofia’s every whim and wish right down to the napkins. If it wasn’t fashion or food related Rafe didn’t really give a shit. The reception would have an open bar, a decision that would burn a satisfying hole in his dad’s wallet, and that was the beginning and end of his requests.

He'd tried to warn Sofia that Sarah could be a bitch, and that Ward could be standoffish but then they’d welcome her with open arms?! Even Rose loved her, and Rose hated everyone. They’d given her a full hero’s welcome he’d never received, complete with a ticker tape parade in the form of a guided tour in the Twinkie.

The second they’d touched down in OBX Sarah and John B had whisked them away. He’d, admittedly, brought down the mood by sulking silently in the backseat trying to avoid touching anything in the dusty sticky weed-soaked death-trap. Weed wasn’t the problem it was the lack of respect. Sofia hadn’t noticed, too absorbed in revelling in every last word of Sarah’s and memorising every last detail that whizzed by the window from the frothing sea foam to a sun-dappled tree. As she would say.

She stared at Kildare with such enviable awe and wonder, enjoying every childhood story, every teenage mistake, every boring meaningless piece of town history. That love turned her into something majestic and radiant that he couldn’t quite comprehend.

He stopped listening to Sarah. He let go of his death grip on his seat belt and watched her, entranced. How did she have such a bottomless source of joy and enthusiasm? Didn’t she ever hit a wall? Wasn’t that exhausting? Her shiny brown curls tussled in the breeze, wide brown eyes warm and open glimmering in the sun, her beam bright and when her lips weren’t smiling, they were parted in a gasp that he wanted to catch on his tongue. The earth shifted deep within him. She was so far beyond his reach.

That first day in Kildare seemed to go off without a hitch. Even Sarah was being surprisingly amiable. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t hate being home. He smiled and slipped an arm around Sofia’s shoulders and slowly wandered across the drive and into Tannyhill without a care in the world. He’d almost settled into that unfamiliar relaxation when Ward appeared, ready and waiting to ruin a perfect day.

His dad took Sofia’s bags from her and started walking them along the ground floor and not up the staircase.

“Dad- “he quickly protested and stepped to follow but Sofia pressed a forbidding hand to his chest.

“You know the rules” Ward called over his shoulder not even stopping to look back.

“We’re well into our twenties!” Why his dad had chosen now to be attentive father he had no idea, but Rafe’s mood immediately dropped into bristling feral anger. “John B gets to- “

“John B and Sarah have their own house. Their own rules”

Rafe seethed, clenching his jaw as he slipped out of Sofia’s grip. Right, so he would never be a real adult until he stopped living in a Cameron Development property. Sure, it wasn’t like New York wasn’t a thousand times more expensive than OBX! 

His dad was straight back to treating him like a child no matter how far he climbed or how well he did. He’d gone to Chapel Hill like he’d wanted. Studied Commerce and Business like he’d wanted. He’d even moved straight into the family business without any kind of break or internship or anything. God, he should’ve fucking known.

“Come on” he grabbed Sofia’s hand and dragged her upstairs to his room slamming to door behind them. She flinched and he absent-mindedly apologised marching into the room, muttering and raving. “I told him…I fucking told him…”

“What do you mean?”

He sank onto the bed with a sigh. Ward had been the first-person Rafe had called in a panic when Sofia had given him the news. He’d been completely vulnerable. Completely honest and his dad had actually come through for once. He’d soothed him and encouraged him. He’d taken the reins. He’d almost sounded like his mom…

Those words were etched into his psyche. I’m proud of you. You did the right thing. Just come home, we can handle the rest.

Wasn’t that why they were here? So, his family could help not boss them around? Weren’t he and Sofia already way passed the point of needing separate rooms? What use would a few nights apart actually serve?

He was just being a stubborn asshole as always. This was so typical of him!

Rafe suddenly realised he hadn’t talked in a while.

“I thought he cared. I thought he understood what we were going through…”

“He does.” It was now her turn to kneel in front of him and soothe his racing mind “He’s just being old fashioned. My Papá would’ve done the same…”

“It just so stupid! Like what if you get sick?” her warm thumb brushed back and forth over his cheek. She smiled softly and shook her head gently with a knowing spark in her eyes.  “What if you need me?”

“You’re not mad because of me” She leaned up to press a soft soothing kiss to his lips. His shoulders slumped with a long, exhausted sigh. “Everything’s going to be fine”

After a brief silence, his mood righted itself. It was strange really how quickly he could go from zero to hundred and then come crashing back down. A smile slowly crept back on to his face as he noticed a stray curl hooked around the bow on the strap of her pale-yellow dress. He untangled it and nudged her hair off her shoulder. His eyes lingered there as he toyed with the strap between his finger and thumb. His knuckles grazing her smooth skin. He started quietly “You know what would really piss him off...”

“No!” she immediately caught on and let out a brilliant bright laugh “No...” she beamed and pressed a firm finger to his lips “Don’t even think about it” His eyes flicked to hers watching closely as, despite her words, she got distracted by tracing her thumb over his bottom lip “I need them to like me”

“They already like you”

Ward got his way. They slept in separate rooms and the wedding planning craziness kept them apart for the good part of two weeks. They barely had a moment alone again until they were in Charleston, the night before the rehearsal. The second to last night before everything changed.

It turned out those few nights apart could do a lot more damage than he thought. That sharp drop from being with her almost every other day to no at all was jarring. Like a child he’d spent the last two weeks pouting over what he couldn’t have.

He’d had to watch her swim in the pool in her red bikini or in the sea in a tight black wet suit that hugged every curve. He’d had to shop with her for rehearsal dinner dresses and pretend he didn’t want to rip them off her. He’d had to listen to her giggle with Sarah on the patio and whimper at a scary movie with John B while he worked at the dining table and those noises took on new meaning in his mind.

She’d sit briefly in his lap. Or put an arm around him at dinner. Or peck his cheek goodnight and it was never quite enough.

He’d had to watch strippers at his bachelor party and pretend he wasn’t close to cracking. He’d had to try to smile and joke and not wonder whether she was doing fake belly shots off some rando’s abs or getting hit on by Pogues while skinny dipping at the beach. Sarah had been winding him up all week with all her “ideas”. He prayed she was joking, and Sofia would shoot down anything too crazy. Then again Sofia was far from sweet and innocent, anyways. Who knows what she'd get up to? 

For two straight weeks, he’d had to gnaw his nails and clench crescents into his palms and blow right through his stash of coke because she was being oh so good. Fuck her!

She was being the perfect little daughter in law with her sweet smile and batted eyelashes and perfect halo. Not wanting to disappoint his dad. Not wanting to break the rules. Not wanting to get caught and it was absolutely infuriating and slightly intoxicating.

He actually kissed Topper square on the mouth when he’d told him he’d found a loophole. The absolute legend had convinced Rose that it would be nice for the couple to have an evening to themselves in a hotel. They could soak in the tub and order room service and reconnect. Totally innocent intentions. They’d be too tired for anything else, surely. It had been a crazy couple of weeks. She was doing them a kindness, really.

It would get her in Rafe’s long awaited good graces and Ward didn’t need to know. For all he knew they were tucked away in separate rooms writing their speeches for the reception.

And Rose actually brought that bullshit or at least she pretended to.

The second they were alone again he unravelled.

chapter three: domestic bliss

“Sof?” he called out into the spacious suite as the door swung closed behind him. His shoulders subconsciously softened in relief at the noise and busyness of the day disappeared, replaced by the subtle sound of distant rushing water.

“Through here!”

Rafe dumped his bags unceremoniously on the sofa and followed the sound of her voice through the bedroom and into the ensuite. He heard the click of the lock opening as she anticipated his approach.

Good. You could take the girl out of Brooklyn, but those safety habits still remained, and he thanked his lucky stars that she wasn’t some airhead that danced about in an unlocked unsafe hotel room where anyone could waltz or peep in.

“Hey…” the greeting is already half out of his mouth and a twist of a smirk slipping onto his face as he turns the handle. Rafe clamps down on the silly little flip in his stomach that feels childish and needy as he steps into the room. It’s only been two weeks! That shouldn’t feel so long. He shouldn’t feel so eager to see her again. She’s already his.

And yet he’s hit in the face with the warm glowing bathroom light and the soft billowing steam caressing his cheeks and it stops him in his tracks. Beneath the typical damp smell of humidity, he catches hints of floral smells and spices he can’t name before his eyes have even locked in on her.

She’s, unfortunately, already out of the shower dressed in a fluffy white rob and focused on wiping a clear circle in on the fogged mirror so she can apply her skin care. As she reaches for the first bottle she glimpses in the corner of her eye and turns, and he swears his stomach rises to his chest. Her skin is smooth and glistening from the soft light and their beach excursions. Her golden eyes brighten at the sight of him and a smile breaks out on her face as she breathes a soft “Hey…” Almost as if she feels just as giddy and foolish as he assumes he looks right now. “How was golf?”

The mundanity of her question shakes him from his stupor as she turns back to what he was doing. Rafe finally nears her from behind and that smell of jasmine and cloves grows stronger now intermingled with oils and citrus of the serums and creams being pressed gently in her skin. He wraps his arms around her middle and presses a kiss to the top of her damp hair. “Fine…” he shrugs half heartedly distracted by fixing her parting for her as his fingers itch for more.

Ward had dragged him on an afternoon of drinks and nine holes with the men of the extended family that both he and his father usually had very little to do with. It was apparently a long standing Lenihan family tradition. His mother’s old money stuffy types that had vanished the moment she’d died.

“Did your cousins come?”

“Yeah. Thankfully I wasn’t the youngest there”

“Good. That would’ve made it more fun…”

“It was boring….” He dragged out that last word with a heavy sigh. “I just wanted the day to be over”

“Tired?”

“No...” he tightened his grip on her and stoops to nuzzle against her neck “I wanted to be here”

Pressed tightly against her with his eyes closed he hears the lid on her moisturiser snap close and feels the warmth of her hands covering his own. She shifts her weight to rest back against him.  Her voice drops to a private whisper “What do you want to do first?”

They had all evening to do whatever they wanted but decision fatigue was beginning to zap her energy.

“This…” he pressed a firm certain kiss against the small slither of exposed collar bone peeking out from robe. His fingers unknot from their place against her stomach and travel down to her hips. Her own hands make no moves to stop him.

“What's gotten into you?” a breathy laugh slips out of her, and he opens his eyes just in time to see the amused smile on her face.

“You!” he groans and takes that smile as permission to let his kisses and hands wander “You’ve been a nightmare all weeks!”

“Not on purpose.”

“Liar….”

She giggles openly now, and he hears that smug mocking pout in her voice as his eyes fall closed again. “Has it been hard?”

“Very”

“It was just two weeks?”

“So?”

“Good to know I’m memorable then”

“Oh, you definitely are!”

She feels his hips press against her back and his fingers ghost over her upper thighs that only have the soft robe covering them. The warm tufts of fabric only amplify his touch shifting and teasing her skin rather than providing her any kind of protection from him. “Babe…. I just got clean”

“That's the perfect time.” Every inch of her was smooth and soft and scented and he wanted to soak in that sensation.

‘"You know what sucks?"

It takes him a moment to register her changing of the subject, but he doesn’t stop running his hands and lips over her frame. "What?"

"These first few months are supposed to be the fun bit."

"Of the pregnancy?"  

"Of the relationship. This is meant to be the clunky part. The early days where we get to be messy and play chicken with our feelings and have lots of hot sex."

He chuffs a soft laugh out his nose as his teeth tug on her ear lobe. "Isn't that what we're doing?"

"Yeah… but we're having to make these big life decisions. Day care and wedding dresses and house offers."

"You're thinking about daycare?"

"Well yeah. We need to be in the right suburb for the right schools."

"I'll sort it."

Sofia finally turns around in his arms, eyes open and a genuine sulking pout on her lips. Perhaps he hasn’t quite been successful in seducing her.  "It's so unfair. I just wanna be young!"

He debates her words with a pout and shrugs. ”Can't relate."

He pecks her adorable, scrunched nose and she swipes at him. "I know! You wanna grow up so fucking fast, baby. Slow down!"

"Hey…” he shrugs, feigning innocence, and tightens his holds on her hips against “we can be stupid later. We're just getting all the boring shit out of the way first!"

She gazes at him with warm brown eyes that glow with gratitude at how easy he can make this all feels.

He leans down to kiss her, but she retreats at the last moment. “I can’t”

“Noone’s watching…. for once…” he grumbles.  

While things had been stilted and awkward between them in a lot of ways, it was a relief to find that the physical side of things had never really wavered. At least they knew how to do that part. That was a start, right?

Once he’d gotten over the weirdness of sharing that space with a baby and she’d found ways to feel comfortable and safe, things had gone back to normal. Better than normal even.

In just over four months, they’d worked a lot of the kinks. Which was a new experience for him. Usually, things got worse as time went on. The sex became stale and boring and half assed and he’d let his flings drag on way longer than they should. She was different. This was different.

“No, I feel like shit” she finally admitted, and it explained her strange back and forth.

“Oh” his brows shot up before dropping into a baffled scrunched face. “How? You’re gorgeous!"

She laughed at how certain he was that any insecurities she might have must be ridiculous. She tugged his chin down to hers and pecked him quickly. “No, I mean everything either hurts or makes me feel sick.”

“Well, that’s an easy fix.” He leapt into action already leading her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. “You lie down?”

“It’ll still be too much movement.”

“What if I’m really gentle?”

“I don’t think you know how!”  

“Ouch. I can be flexible!”

“You have like zero chill.”

“I can find some!”

“I don’t believe you. We’re not rushing anymore or sneaking around anymore, my friend.”

“Don’t call me your friend.”

“What should I’ll call you….? Pumpkin?”

“Hate that!”

“Good”

“You know…. I can do painfully slow when necessary?”

“Painful for who?”

He finally cracked first laughing at that quick retort. Letting her win that round.

“You know that I can go slow.” He stated firmly, his knuckles brushing over her bump “That’s how this little guy happened.”

“Hm no...” she pouted playfully “don’t remember it? I remember patching you up when you got your ass beat

“Different time.”

“Ah! Ok.”

“Are you trying to neg me...?”

“No... just stating facts...”

“I really don’t scare you, do I?”

“Nope”

“It’s cute that you’re trying...You’re gonna regret it though”

“Am I?”

“Mhm”

“Man…” she showed no signs of relenting “You must really like Brooklyn if you kept coming back after losing in a fight so miserably”

“I must “

“It’s a nice place. Pity about the gangs though”

“Yeah, they really bring down the vibe.”

“Someone should you really do something about that.”

“Mm it’s dangerous…”

Her flirting finally broke into a wide smile and girlish giggle, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He picked her up and plopped her down on the bed, but his lips stopped short of hers.

“You can wait”

The wedding rehearsal went smoothly. Sarah had thought of every last detail. Rafe reminded Sofia that this was a rare occurrence, and he was impressed.

There was one dampener on the afternoon, however. Sofia couldn’t shake Barry’s harsh gaze the whole time. He sat in the back row of the church scowling and silent like some kind of jilted lover a blazer hurriedly thrown over his white wife-beater and cream cargo pants.

Once the formalities were finally over Rafe looked to Sofia for permission with soft apologetic big blue eyes and the moment, she nodded he was off, practically flying to Barry’s side.

Sofia could only catch fragments of their whispered bickering before Rafe ushered Barry out the door with a firm arm wrapped around his shoulders. What the fuck…her lil bitch now…. I’ll deal with…. leave it…. listen to me…take this outside.

The moment the hotel door closed behind them he changed. He dropped her hand, tossed his suit jacket nowhere in particular and he’d straight for the bar cart. Sofia’s stomach dropped as she watched his shoulders slump, and his jaw tensed. His demeanour completely transfigured from a man on the happiest day of his life….to a man on the worst.

“Rafe…”

“Don’t”

He shifted from a residual sloppy tipsiness from the wedding reception to a purposeful all-consuming intoxication frighteningly quickly slumped on the floor in the poorly light living room.

It felt safer to leave him to it.

“I’m going to bed”

“Why are you telling me?” he shrugged and continued finishing his bottle of scotch

Sofia scoffed at the audacity of that. As if she was asking too much of him. As if he hadn’t been all over her barely 24 hours earlier.

“I thought you might care” she bit back bitterly, losing her grip on her anger.

“You don’t have to pretend Sof. I know you don’t want this”

“When did I say that?”

“Who would?”

Sofia gaped at him amazed and crestfallen.

“You’re just scared of doing this alone…”

“Of course, I’m fucking scared but I’m choosing to do this with you…You know what? I don’t need these dramatics from you! I could be on Long Island right now!”

“Then why aren’t you!?”

“Go! Be with your mom and Abuelita and save the little shit from me!”

“Don’t call them that!”

“You know…life was a lot easier before I met you. I should’ve left you in that shit hole I found you in…You just wanted attention”

“You know that’s- “

“This whole thing is…bullshit. You tricked me. You trapped me. How do I know he’s even- “

“Fuck you! You can stay out there!” in a fit of rage and tears Sofia tried her best to close the large sliding doors but they were too heavy for her tired arms.

Rafe sighed heavily and staggered across the room to help her but rather than appreciating that gesture she immediately locked the doors.

“Oh, come on! At least let me get my shit!”

“No! I hate you for this! You’re being ridiculous and you can sleep out there until you’ve calmed the fuck down!”

Sofia cried herself to sleep in her brand-new white lingerie.

Rafe crept sheepishly towards the closed doors the next morning.

“Sof…are you awake?”

He heard the curtains rattle and rustle as she pulled them open, and sunlight spilled out from underneath the closed doors. Her shadow blocked some of the light and her weight squeaked the floorboards.

“I…” an apology never quite reaches his lips. “I said some stupid shit…but I’m serious…you should go. Just tell people it’s Adam’s and let this thing be over”

“Is that what you want?” a muffled quiet voice finally breaks the silence.

A beat.

“No…. but this whole thing has gotten so twisted…”

She opens the doors suddenly and with such force and speed that it startles him.

“Do you think I don’t care about you?”

“What?”

Sofia crosses the threshold from the sun-soaked bedroom to the shadowy living room.

“Do you think I’m just coasting through this or bleeding you dry?”

“What else would you be doing?”

“Staying with you...For real”

“Sof…”

“Rafe, I’ve seen your dilated eyes, and I’ve watched you sleep till noon. I’ve sat on the sidelines of your meetings and parties with Barry and I’ve heard every bad thing Sarah’s ever had to say about you.” She crosses the room in careful sure steps “You’re either doubting me or pushing me away. I don’t care. What matters is that I’m here.” She takes both his hands in hers. “I’m not going in blind, baby, I know who you are…You don’t have to hide from me.”

His head and voice fall. “You shouldn’t be here…This kid is going to be in for a world of chaos and…and danger and I can’t…”

“Then we’ll keep them safe. Separate spheres. Separate lives. When you’re out you’re out and when you’re home, you’re all mine. No business. No weapons.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’ll figure it out”

She kissed him softly and finally asked. “Do you want this?”

He nods gently.

“Well come on then…” she takes his hand and leads him back through the double doors.

“Just like that?”

“Well, you owe me an apology first.”

“I’m sorry. I know you’re here for the right reasons…”

“And…?”

“And I know the kid’s mine. Who’s else would be when it’s making your life hell already?”

“Thank you for saying that….”

“Now… do you still feel like shit?”

“No…exhausted maybe…. Why? What did you have in mind?”

“Proving how slow and steady I can go…”

“Hmmm…Sounds perfect…”

“What time is it?”

“Why?”

“We have brunch with everyone at eleven”

“Whose ideas was that?!”

“Sarah”

“Fucking Sarah….”

He beamed at that uncharacterstic slight, "Now we're talking!"

Rafe and Barry were like ships in the night. Worse than that, ghosts even. They slipped in and ouch of each other’s lives, carried out their business and then drifted away again. Barry iced him out for the good part of two months before they uttered any word worth hearing to each other again.

It was the middle of the night in Rafe’s penthouse. Sofia was safely squared away in their New Jersey home and he’d had to work late. Typically, an insomniac, Rafe never slept deeply so it was no surprise that he heard Barry come stumbling in with his spare key.

Rafe tensed, ears pricking as he lay still and waited to see which way this was going to go. Would Barry slip in beneath the covers like all was forgiven. Would he storm into the room with something big and brash to get off his chest. Or would he pass on the sofa as he always used to. Rafe’s heart sank as he realised it was the usual routine.

At least he was here.

At least he still knew Rafe’s door was always open.

The next morning Rafe woke bright and early and lay awake at war with himself. It was stupid really. What grown man was nervous to set foot in his own kitchen!

All those fears and frustrations immediately melted away at the sight of big tough Barry curled up beneath a blanket on his large leather sofa. He lay there, dead to the world, face first in what had clearly started as an exhausted drunk flop onto the cool cushions and evolved into a cozy morning nap in the sun filled living room. As Rafe’s looming frame cast a shadow over Barry’s face the sleeping figure grumbled and groaned turning over onto his side and tugging the blanket up higher around him. Rafe’s fingers twitched as a sliver of sun caught in his partner’s frizzy hair.

For the briefest of moments in his chaotic life, the earth felt silent and still. A gentle peace soothed the anxiety that typically clenched around his heart.

He’d come back.

That warmth in his chest pulled Rafe down onto the sofa and beneath the scratchy orange woollen blanket Barry always rescued from his donations box. Rafe would try to hide it away in the hallway cupboard or bury it deep at the bottom of the ottoman’s storage and yet it always found it’s way back out onto his sofa again. Harsh and gaudy and bright against his cool sleek carefully curated home.

He ignored the sensory nightmare of the hideous checkered fabric and wrapped his arm around him. It wasn’t long before his shuffling and rustling stirred Barry from his much-needed rest. The older man breathed a soft laugh but made no effort to escape Rafe’s tight grasp

 “Well, look who it is!”

“You are in my house”

“Yeah…I'll give you that”

“‘You’ll give me- ‘“Rafe parroted with a scoff “You're not the boss of me...”

“I'm not? Look at you. You’re seconds away from putting on an apron and making me pancakes”

“Fuck off…” he muttered and buried his face deeper into Barry’s neck, the gold chain cold against his cheek. Barry’s crumbled black dress shirt was tarnished by the smell of sweat and cheap alcohol and his skin was soaked in expensive cologne and cigarette smoke. Rafe has never understood Barry’s priorities. He cared more about what he put on his body than what he put in it. Rafe was the opposite. So long as he had his rings and his watch, he’d throw on anything but nothing cheap and nasty would ever cross his lips. His body was a temple. Well, a temple full of protein shakes and cocaine.

“Big night?”

“Yeah…”

“Any damage?”

The thought of Barry out on his own was oddly disconcerting. He should’ve been there. Even a harmless night out could go sideways quickly.

“Just my liver” Barry joked at first but then without Rafe even having to ask he added. “Vaughan and Corey were with me”

“Good”

Be careful

A heavily silence settled in on his shoulders and Barry let it rest there for a moment before he turned over to study his face. Barry roughly tugged him from his hiding place and lifted his chin to meet his gaze.

“What’s this?”

Rafe shrugs trying to fight the large pout forming. He attempted to wrestle himself out of Barry’s firm grip but failed.

“Come on…”

Rafe groaned in frustration, desperately trying to avoid admitting defeat but Barry stayed focused. Rafe’s stomach twisted and his fingers tremored slightly as he finally met Barry’s eye again.  “I miss you”

Barry kissed him as if that was the very thing he’d been waiting to hear all month. Relief watched over them to have that closeness again, even fleetingly.

Things escalated a little too quickly and Rafe had to untangle himself.

“I can't...I can't. I need to think.”

“So, think”

“Not like this. Get off...Get off!”

“Alright! Alright…I'll make the eggs you take your thinking time.”

Rafe sat on the edge of the sofa and ran a hand over his face. “Fuck....I need a cold shower"

Barry just huffed a small chuckle and focused on getting breakfast ready. While he knew he should leave the subject alone, let Rafe come to him, he couldn’t resist the urge to broach the subject first once Rafe was dressed and clean.

He set the plate down in front of him on the kitchen island.

“You could always just tell her”

“What?”

Barry shrugged unapologetically letting his words stand as used the dishes as a helpful distraction to the fraught conversation.  

“This isn't easy, B…”

Rafe was always full of excuses and cowardice. Where was the bold man he saw in the ring or out on the street? In the privacy of his own home his soft belly was exposed and while Barry should feel honoured to witness that vulnerability it was becoming grating

“Because you make it complicated. She could be totally fine with it.”

“She's super religious.”

“So? So's Patricia down the street from me and she loves you.”

Rafe’s eyes fall away for a moment with a soft smile as he concedes that point “She does.”

“Listen…” Barry finishes his dishes and rounds the kitchen counter to pull up his own barstool and give Rafe his full attention “I don't give a shit about no closet no exclusivity nothing. You do what you need to…What I do care about it is your word. So, if you’re gonna tell me now “Don’t worry Bar I’ll sort it” then you'd better. “

“Then I won’t say that”

“Good”

Barry goes to get up and let the conversation be over, but Rafe begins to vent.

“I don't know how these early months are going to go with her. I don't know if I... if we can trust her.”

“She already knows half your shit.”

“I know but- “

“But what? You don’t even wanna try? It’s just one conversation, pretty boy. It’s not impossible”

“Yeah, but it’s hard”

“Life’s hard”

“Bar, that isn't...This isn’t about being out. This isn’t about you or…. or hiding you… She's a good person.”

“And?”

“This’ll hurt her. It’s been months. The other girls...it didn't matter what you and I got up to. It does with her. She's my wife and-.”

“And I'm your boss.”

Barry states firmly and Rafe creeps out of his shell for a moment to push back on that. “Doesn't sound like it's my boss who's talking right now?

Barry’s lip quirks at that boldness and nods in acceptance. Touche.

“I can't cheat on her” Rafe finally states his intentions, and Barry hears him loud and clear springing off the stool. Good. That’s done. That’s sorted then. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been on and off before. This would just be an off season.

“Hate to break it to you, boy.” Barry switched tac now and slipped out of shirt on route to have his own shower in the guest bathroom and get on with this day. No point wasting any more time on this white boy “…but by some people's definitions...” he didn’t even slow down as he dropped his shirt on the sofa, we’d then been only moments before

“You just did”

“Stop! Stop…” Sofia groaned as he dragged her away yet again from the paint roller and made her put her mask back on him and sit back on her picnic set up, he’d made for her in the far corner of the room by the open door. She sulked like a toddler in time out.  

“Rafe! I wanna help!”

“You shouldn’t be breathing this shit in. We have people for this”

“I told you I wanted us to do this together and you agreed”

“Yeah, that was before I researched how much crap is in this. No wonder people get high off it”

“Don’t even think about it” she teased with a flicker in her eye that he matched

“It’s tempting…”

“I hate you. You have all the fun”

“Most girls- “

“Women”

“Women would be happy to have the princess treatment you’re getting. You get to sit there and sip your tea and eat your snacks and I do all the work”

“It is a nice view…” her eyes ran over him even though most of his frame was shrouded in an oversized black tee and grey sweatpants both covered in white undercoat paint “but I want the work. You’ve wrapped me in cotton wool”

“Can you blame me? I’ve literally seen you threaten Maybank with a Chelsea Dagger! No self-preservation at all!”

“That was a good day…”

“You’re insane”

“And you’re paranoid”

“We’re almost there…”

“And then you’ll be watching what I eat like a hawk cause I’m breast feeding”

He had no defence for that. A comfortable silence settled in between them with only the soft guitar playing through the speaker, the rushing of the wet paint on the wall, and the crunching of her oat crackers.

His gaze softened as he took a break and settled in beside her on the pink picnic rug in a sea of white drop sheets. Sofia furrowed her brows studying that look in his eyes warmly at first and then sceptically as he shifted and changed. His eyes wandered over her large baby bump, her cut grey overalls, her royal blue shirt with daisy prints and back to her shiny hir and radiant face again.

“Babe…”

He murmured a questioning response half heartedly still taking her in.

“Don’t do that”

“Do what?”

“Look at me with those big eyes”

“What big eyes?”

“Like I'm too good. Like you're not good enough.”

Rafe scoffs at that his cheeks flushing his jaw tensing as he busied himself with making a snack. “We’ve been over this… I don't need another pep talk.” He grumbled.

“This isn't about you. It's about me…. I’ve had too many boys put me up on these massive pedestals. There's only one way to go from there. I'm not a saint… and I get it. I'm cute and I'm sweet so I must be an angel but I'm a mess too. I have needs and wants and...and flaws. I'm not gonna be your never complaining housewife or your permanently open legs.”

“Jesus, Sof!”

“You’d be surprised what boyfriends start to expect when they get too comfortable.”

“Well, I’m not your boyfriend.

“You’re not immune. Men get like…Things start to get easy and complacent. You stay together too long, and men get comfortable and entitled... they start demanding rather than chasing. I'm not your prize or your…. pretty doll.”

“I know that”

“And I'm not a doormat”

“I’m well aware of that...” his frustration started to seep through “so what's the issue?”

Sofia paused at that question. He was right. He wasn’t her boyfriend. He was her husband. He wasn’t a boy. He was a young man.

How could she expect him to just know all the ins and outs of her history? To understand all her complexities when he'd only just learned her middle name? Of course, he only saw a simple version of her at this stage. That was all they had. It had barely even been a year since they met. Of course, he thought she was too good, and he had to put on airs to romance her. That was normal. Things were still growing. Everyone put on their best faces at the beginning.

“Nothing…you’re right”

“What happened?”

“With what?”

“The others”

“Nothing just...just remember that I'm human.”

“Got it.” He rolled his eyes at the whiplash of this conversation. “You’re ridiculous” he laughed and squished her cheeks before pulling her into a warm kiss.

epilogue: you'll be my family

Rafe charged into their apartment and spun around on her, still wired and looking for a fight. His knuckles white and taut in a clenched fists splattered with purple bruises. Cleo knew. Cleo knew about the baby. About Sofia and it was too fucking late to wrench their privacy back. They were vulnerable, exposed. She had to get out, now.

Tonight's little car jacking display was a firm and blatant warning. You come for what's hers she'll come for what's yours. She could not have made it more obvious and yet Sofia chose now, the most inopportune time, to be emotional and obstinate.

“I’m not having this fight with you again! I’m staying here. With you!”

“At least think about going to Kildare! Just until the baby comes!”

“No!”

“Sof! You need to be safe! You need help. You need family!

“You'll be my family!”

That stops him dead in his tracks. No one has ever…No one wants that from him. Not now. Not ever. Not even his dad. Not even Sarah. She has John B. She has her life. She doesn’t need him and yet Sofia is saying it now with such certainty.

“This isn't even-…” his stammers with glossy wide eyes unable to find the right words to express that he’s unworthy. That it’s dumb founding that she would hold something real and true within a marriage so false and hurried. This isn’t even real. This isn’t even love. How can she…? How can they…? The wheels are spinning in his head unable to connect with the tarmac.

“I'm not talking about being married.” She sets her black shiny heels he’d told her not to wear, now tainted with dried blood down on the coffee table and stepped towards him. She slips out of her coat and gold earrings as she speaks. Her long glittering black dress swaying with a rushing rustle like the wind as it brushes against polished concrete floor of his bachelor pad. Her eyes are big and brave and perfectly warm. “The second this little one existed you and I were done. That's it. We're not separate anymore. We’ll always be linked.  I'll always be tied to you.”  

She pauses but his brain still can’t find any kind of response. He simply watches on in awe as she lays it all out for him so simply. As if it isn’t the life changing monologue that it is. She shrugs and admits, “We might hate being married. We might be terrible at it and drive each other nuts. We don't know... Two years from now we could be divorced and swearing off relationships for good...”

He shoves back the tears that are forming and ducks his head with a shy laugh.

“But we'll still be parents. We'll still be family.”

She lifts a gentle hand to brush a tear from his cheek and lift his eyes back up to hers.“I want to be here with you.”

He cups the back of her hand and kisses her palm, nodding in acceptance and understanding.

“You'll always be my family...and I want you to be.”

The adrenaline of nearly losing both of them in one go tonight finally crashes down and mixes with the sincerity of her words that she doesn’t realize he’s waited a lifetime to hear. It’s an overpowering, deadly combination…and he breaks down in tears.

[gardenwalrus]

— ‘Penny Lane’ music video

‘Penny Lane’ was kind of nostalgic, but it was really a place that John and I knew; it was actually a bus terminus. I’d get a bus to his house and I’d have to change at Penny Lane, or the same with him to me, so we often hung out at that terminus, like a roundabout. It was a place that we both knew, and so we both knew the things that turned up in the story.

— Paul McCartney interview with Clash Magazine (9 September 2009) (x)

There’s a documentary aspect to Penny Lane, though it’s best viewed perhaps as a docudrama. Which is not so strange, since, when I was going to John’s house in Liverpool, I would change buses at the Penny Lane roundabout, where Church Road meets Smithdown Road. As well as being a bus terminal, and a place that featured very much in my life and in John’s life — we would often meet there — it was near St Barnabas Church, where I was a choirboy. So it resonates in several ways; it’s still “in my ears and in my eyes”.

— Paul McCartney within The Lyrics (2021)

No matter where he was headed — to school or to see friends — the bus inevitably took him first to Penny Lane. PAUL: The area was called Penny Lane; we would often use it because a lot of bus routes converge there. It was on the way to Liverpool city centre so I would pass it every day on my bus route or if I was taking the bus to John's, if it was raining or something, I'd take it to there and change and get the bus up to his house. George and I used to to go through there to the cinema and it was also the way to a friend called Arthur Kelly who was a school mate. [...] PAUL: John and I would often meet at Penny Lane. That was where someone would stand and sell you poppies each year on British Legion poppy day; where John and I would put a shilling in the can and get ourselves a poppy. That was a memory. We fantasised the nurse selling poppies from a tray, which Ameri­cans used to think was puppies! Which again is an interesting image. I was a choirboy at a church opposite called St Barnabas so it had a lot of associations for me.

— Within Barry Miles, Many Years From Now (1997)

[sgtpeppers]

So after I posted those photos of Linda and Paul yesterday, taken by Allen Ginsberg, I started doing some digging into their relationship with Allen. Maybe this is all old news to everyone, but I found some cool stuff, so thought I'd share!

So Allen first met the Beatles on his 39th birthday, although at this point it was just John, Cyn, George and Pattie (x):

"At the party Allen got completely drunk and stripped off his clothes, putting his baggy underpants on his head and hanging a hotel ‘Do not disturb’ notice around his cock. It was at this moment that two of The Beatles arrived: John with Cynthia, and George with Pattie. John and George quickly checked that no photographers were present. Allen kissed John on the cheek, and John told him that he used to draw a magazine at art school called the Daily Howl [in reference to Ginsberg’s poem Howl]; they were friendly enough and accepted drinks, but then made quickly for the door. I asked John why he was leaving so soon. ‘You don’t do that in front of the birds!’ he hissed in my ear." 

Many Years From Now, Barry Miles

Despite this interesting first meeting, it looks like they went on to be friends with all of them, including Paul. In 1967 Allen gifted Paul an early copy of his book 'TV Baby Poems', with the following inscription:

“For Paul McCartney That all fantasies harmonise sweetly & also Hari Krishna!”

(x)

In the same book, Allen actually name drops John and Paul, in the poem Middle of a Long Poem on These States: Kansas City to St. Louis.

You can read the full poem here, but also... here's the section that they're mentioned in:

Paul later goes on to use the phrase 'Electric Arguments' as the title of his 2008 The Fireman album. And I'm just gonna... leave that there.

It seems like they became closer friends in the 90s, and Allen talks about his friendship with Paul in this interview:

I had been talking quite a bit to [Paul] McCartney, visiting him and bringing him poetry and haiku, and looking at Linda McCartney’s photographs and giving him some photos I’d taken of them.

And around this point, Allen and Paul collaborated on an accompanied version of Allen's poem The Ballad of the Skeletons.

Here's Paul talking about how he got involved, but the TLDR is that Allen called him asking if he knew a guitarist that would accompany him at the Royal Albert Hall, and after recommending a couple of people, Paul assumed it was Allen's round about way of asking him.

The performance is so so good, you can watch the full thing here:

Paul just looks so happy doing it!

They also went on to record a version of this as well, which had a more complicated instrumental composed by Paul and then recorded with Allen on vocals, Philip Glass on keyboards, Paul on guitar, drums, Hammond organ and maracas, Lenny Kaye on bass, Marc Ribot on guitar and David Mansfield on guitar. - you can read more about it here.

And I just love this quote from Allen about working with Paul (from this interview again):

He reacts to the words in an intelligent way. You can hear it on the tape. Like if I say on the recording, “What’s cooking,” all of a sudden he brings in the maracas to get that really funny excitement. When I say, “Blow Nancy blow,” he blows on the Hammond organ. He added a lot of enthusiasm and a lot of interpretation. And sometimes, when I made a flub, he covered it. He left his lead sheet in his guitar case, so we had to share my lead sheet [at Albert Hall], which was fun.

I just love finding out all these random little things Paul has been involved in, he gets everywhere!

Allen also (tried) to give Paul advice on his poetry (x), and Allen's comments about Eleanor Rigby were one of the things that lead Paul to publish his own poetry in Blackbird Singing.

I used to hang out a bit with Allen Ginsberg in the Sixties, and later on during the last couple of years of his life we became good friends. And he said to me “That Eleanor Rigby is a f- good poem, man.” So I thought, well, he’s no slouch, and so, with Adrian pushing me, I looked at them again, and thought, yes, some of them could be read.

(x)

Allen Ginsberg unfortunately passed away on the 5th April 1997, about a year before Linda, but it seems like those last few years of Allen's life included a really beautiful, collaborative friendship with them!

[sah1x1s-archived]

So Nathan Drake's FC is now changing from Tom Holland to Bradley Cooper because I'm playing the game and it just clicks 🤣

★ James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes (Marvel) ★ Steven Grant Rogers (Marvel) ★ Anthony Edward Stark (Marvel) ★ Loki Odinson (Marvel) ★ Raven Darkholme (Marvel) ★ Frank Castle (Marvel) ★ Katherine “Kitty” Pryde (Marvel) ★ Elizabeth “Betty” Ross (Marvel) ★ Yelena Belova (Marvel) ★ Clint Barton (Marvel) ★ Kate Bishop (Marvel) ★ Antonia “Toni” Stark (Marvel) ★ Wade Wilson (Marvel) (Deadpool) ★ Erik Lehnsherr (Marvel) (X-Men Origins) ★ Charles Xavier (Marvel) (X-Men Origins) ★ James “Logan” Howlett (Marvel) ★ Peter Parker (Marvel) {TASM - FC: Andrew Garfield} ★ Gwendolyn “Gwen” Stacy (Marvel) {TASM - FC: Emma Stone} ★ Eddie Brock/Venom (Marvel) ★ Steven Strange (Marvel) ★ Marc Spector | Steven Grant | Jake Lockley (Marvel) (Moon Knight)

★ Sirius Black (Marauders!Era Harry Potter) ★ Remus Lupin (Marauders!Era Harry Potter) ★ James Potter (Marauders!Era Harry Potter) ★ Lily Evans (Marauders!Era Harry Potter) ★ Severus Snape (Marauders!Era Harry Potter) ★ Bellatrix LeStrange (Marauders!Era Harry Potter) ★ Hermione Granger (Harry Potter) ★ Newt Scamander (Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them) ★ Albus Dumbledore (Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them) {FC: Jude Law}

★ John Silver (Black Sails) ★ James Flint (Black Sails) ★ Max the Whore (Black Sails) ★ Eleanor Guthrie (Black Sails) ★ Jack Ratham (Black Sails) ★ Charles Vane (Black Sails) ★ Billy Bones (Black Sails)

★ Steve Trevor (DC Universe) ★ Diana Prince (DC Universe) ★ Arthur Curry (DC Universe) ★ Bruce Wayne (DC Universe) {FC: Ben Affleck} ★ The Joker (Many DC Universes) {FC: Dependant on Verse} ★ Barry Allen (DC Universe) ★ Clark Kent (DC Universe) ★ Steve Trevor (DC Universe) ★ Lex Luthor (DC) (FC: Jessie Eisenberg) ★ Catwoman | Serena Kyle (DC Universe) {FC: Anne Hathaway}

★ King Arthur Pendragon (King Arthur) ★ Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotts (Reign) ★ Anne Boleyn (The Tudors) ★ Hades; Lord of the Underworld {Mythological} {FC: Tom Ellis} ★ Poseidon; God of the Seas {Mythological} {FC: Jason Momoa} ★ Eros; God of Love {Mythological} {FC: Andrew Garfield} ★ Zeus; God of the Sky {Mythological} {FC: Jamie Dornan} ★ Apollo; God of the Sun {Mythological} {FC: Sam Clafin} ★ Dionysus; God of Wine {Mythological} {FC: Josh Duhamel} ★ Hermes; God of Thieves {Mythological} {FC: Alex Pettyfer} ★ Morpheus; God of Sleep {Mythological} {FC: John Bernthal} ★ Heracles; God of Strength {Mythological} {FC: Kellan Lutz} ★ Ares; God of War {Mythological} {FC: Henry Cavill} ★ Hephaestus, God of the Artisans (Mythological) (FC: Ben Affleck) ★ Prometheus; God of Fire {Mythological} (FC: Cillian Murphy) ★ Aphrodite; Goddess of Love {Mythological} {FC: Blake Lively} ★ Athena; Goddess of Wisdom {Mythological} {FC: Lauren Cohan} ★ Artemis; Goddess of Hunt {Mythological} {FC: Mackenzie Foy} ★ Hera; Goddess of Nature {Mythological} {FC: Mariana Davalos} ★ Nyx; Goddess of Night {Mythological} {FC: Leticia Castro} ★ Zyiah; Demon of Spite (OC- Demon) (FC: David Beckham) ★ Persephone; Queen of the Underworld {Mythological} {FC: Rosario Dawson}

★ Bayak of Siwa (Assassin’s Creed: Origins) {FC: Oscar Isaac} ★ Ezio Auditore da Firenze (Assassin’s Creed: Ezio Trilogy) {FC: Ben Barnes} ★ Edward Kenway (Assassin’s Creed: Black Flag) {FC: Charlie Hunnam} ★ Alexios of Sparta (Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey) {FC: Theo James} ★ Brasidas of Sparta (Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey) {FC: Gerard Butler} ★ Hytham Sám Nakjavani (Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla) {FC: Michele Morrone} ★ Basim Ibn Ishaq (Assassin’s Creed: Mirage) {FC: Dev Patel} ★ Eivor Wolf-Kissed (Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla) {FC: Henry Cavill} ★ Nathan Drake (Uncharted) {FC: Bradley Cooper} ★ Simon “Ghost” Riley (Call Of Duty) {FC: Charlie Hunnam} ★ John Price (Call Of Duty) {FC: Barry Salone} ★ John “Soap” MacTavish (Call Of Duty) {FC: Neil Ellice} ★ Kyle “Gaz” Garrick (Call Of Duty) {FC: Elliot Knight}

★ Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) ★ Ben Solo | Kylo Ren (Star Wars) ★ Poe Dameron (Star Wars)

★ Joel Miller (The Last of Us) ★ Ellie Williams (The Last of Us) ★ Tommy Miller (The Last of Us) {FC: Adam Driver}

★ Dean Winchester (Supernatural) ★ Sam Winchester (Supernatural) ★ John Winchester (Supernatural)

★ Fiona Gallagher (Shameless) ★ Ian Gallagher (Shameless) ★ Phillip “Lip” Gallagher (Shameless) ★ Jimmy “Steve” Lishman (Shameless) ★ Mikhailo "Mickey" Milkovich (Shameless)

★ Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games) ★ Finnick Odair (The Hunger Games) ★ Gale Hawthorne (The Hunger Games) ★ Peeta Mellark (The Hunger Games) ★ Johanna Mason (The Hunger Games)

★ Diego Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy) ★ Klaus Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy)

★ Merida of DunBroch (Brave) {FC: Amy Manson} ★ Jasmine of Agrabah (Aladdin) {FC: Naomi Scott} ★ Elsa of Arendelle (Frozen) {FC: Natalie Dormer} ★ Rapunzel of Corona (Tangled) {FC: Amanda Seyfried} ★ Periwinkle the Frost Fairy (Tinkerbell) {FC: Dove Cameron} ★ Tinkerbell of Pixie Hollow (Tinkerbell) {FC: Dove Cameron} ★ Hiccup Horrendous Haddock (HTTYD) {FC: Andrew Garfield}

★ Benny Miller (Triple Frontier) ★ William Miller (Triple Frontier) ★ Frankie Morales (Triple Frontier) ★ Santiago Garcia (Triple Frontier) ★ Tom Davis (Triple Frontier)

★ Rick O’Connell (The Mummy) ★ Jack Dawson (Titanic) ★ Javier Peña (Narcos) ★ Tiffany Maxwell (Silver Linings Playbook) ★ Dr. Gregory House (House) ★ Raleigh Beckett (Pacific Rim) ★ Marcus Acacius (Gladiator II) ★ Rue Bennett (EUPHORIA) ★ Independent Barbie (Barbie) ★ Ian Malcolm (Jurassic Park) ★ Katherine Pierce (The Vampire Diaries) ★ Damon Salvatore (The Vampire Diaries) ★ Caroline Forbes (The Vampire Diaries) ★ Elliot Stabler (Law and Order: SVU) ★ Rafael Barba (Law & Order: SVU) ★ William Turner (Pirates of the Caribbean) ★ Jack Sparrow (Pirates of the Caribbean) ★ Jake Sully | Tsyeyk Suli (Avatar) ★ Lo'ak Sully (Avatar: The Way of Water) ★ Michael Guiren (Roswell) ★ Max Evans (Roswell) ★ Liz Parker (Roswell) ★ Kyle Valenti (Roswell) ★ Shane Walsh (The Walking Dead) ★ Rick Grimes (The Walking Dead) ★ Daryl Dixon (The Walking Dead) ★ Glenn Rhee (The Walking Dead) ★ Maggie Greene (The Walking Dead) ★ Negan Smith (The Walking Dead) (TBA) ★ Richard ‘Richie’ Jerimovich (The Bear) ★ Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto (The Bear) ★ Michael ‘Mikey’ Berzatto (The Bear) ★ Emmett Cullen (Twilight) ★ Edward Cullen (Twilight) ★ Carslile Cullen (Twilight) ★ Jacob Black (Twilight) ★ Paul Lahote (Twilight) ★ Jasper Hale (Twilight)

★ Caraxes (Dragon; House of the Dragon) ★ Toruk (Great Leonopteryx; Avatar) ★ Ikaros (Eagle; Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey)    ★ Lockheed (Dragon; Marvel) 

★ Daemon Targaryen (House of the Dragon) ★ Jamie Lannister (Game of Thrones) ★ Cersei Lannister (Game of Thrones) ★ Tyrion Lannister (Game of Thrones) ★ Jon Snow (Game of Thrones) ★ Daenerys Targaryen (Game of Thrones) ★ Khal Drogo (Game of Thrones) ★ Robb Stark (Game of Thrones) ★ Sansa Stark (Game of Thrones) ★ Margaery Tyrell (Game of Thrones) ★ Obyren Martell (Game of Thrones)

[scotianostra]

On December 27th 1904 J M Barrie's play "Peter Pan" premiered at the Duke of York Theatre, London.

J.M. Barrie created his character based on his older brother, David, who died in an ice-skating accident the day before his 14th birthday. His mother and brother thought of him as forever a boy. The "boy who wouldn't grow up"

The story of free-spirited and mischievous young boy who can fly and never grows up, Peter Pan spends his never-ending childhood having adventures on the mythical island of Neverland as the leader of the Lost Boys, interacting with fairies, pirates, mermaids, Native Americans, and occasionally ordinary children from the world outside Neverland.

Peter Pan has become a cultural icon symbolizing youthful innocence and escapism. In addition to two distinct works by Barrie, the character has been featured in a variety of media and merchandise, both adapting and expanding on Barrie's works. These include a 1953 animated film, a 2003 dramatic/live-action film, a television series and many other works.

J. M. Barrie first used Peter Pan 2 years before, as a character in a section of The Little White Bird, an adult novel where he appears as a seven-day-old baby in the chapter entitled Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens. Following the success of the 1904 play, Barrie's publishers, Hodder and Stoughton, extracted chapters 13–18 of The Little White Bird and republished them in 1906 under the title Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens, with the addition of illustrations by Arthur Rackham.

Barrie never described Peter's appearance in detail, even in his novel, leaving it to the imagination of the reader and the interpretation of anyone adapting the character. In the play, Peter's outfit is made of autumn leaves and cobwebs. His name and playing the flute or pipes suggest the mythological character Pan. Barrie mentions in Peter and Wendy that Peter Pan still had all his "first teeth".He describes him as a beautiful boy with a beautiful smile, "clad in skeleton leaves and the juices that flow from trees"

Traditionally, the character has been played on stage by a petite adult woman. In the original productions in the UK, Peter Pan's costume was a reddish tunic and dark green tights, such as that worn by Nina Boucicault in 1904. This costume is exhibited in Barrie's Birthplace museum at Kirriemuir.

In the Disney films, Peter wears an outfit that consists of a short-sleeved green tunic and tights apparently made of cloth, and a cap with a red feather in it. He has pointed elf-like ears, brown eyes and his hair is red. In Hook , the character is played as an adult by Robin Williams, with blue eyes and dark brown hair; in flashbacks to him in his youth, his hair is light brown. In this film his ears appear pointed only when he is Peter Pan, not as Peter Banning. His Pan attire resembles the Disney outfit (minus the cap). In the live-action 2003 Peter Pan film, he is portrayed by Jeremy Sumpter, who has blond hair and blue-green eyes. His outfit is made of leaves and vines.

Barrie commissioned a statue of Peter Pan by sculptor George Frampton which was erected overnight in Kensington Gardens on 30 April 1912 as a May Day surprise to the children of London. Seven statues have been cast from the original mould, they are in, Egmont Park, Brussels, Belgium, Bowring Park, St. John's, Newfoundland, Canada, Bowring Park, Johnson Park, Camden, New Jersey, USA, Queens Gardens, Perth, Western Australia, Sefton Park, Liverpool, and Glenn Gould Park, Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

Various other statues have appeared around the world, including three in Scotland, the first is at Mearnskirk Hospital for children in Glasgow, the first superintendent of the hospital, Dr John A Wilson, was a school friend of Barrie, the other one in Scotland is of course in Kirriemuir, one in the main town square and the other in the Peter Pan Garden by Barrie's Birthplace, now owned by the National Trust of Scotland.

The most famous of the other statues is at Great Ormond Street Hospital in London, who JM Barrie gifted the rights to the play in 1929, the copyright first expired in the UK (and the rest of Europe) in 1987, 50 years after Barrie’s death, but the government of the day made an amendment to the copyright act giving Great Ormond Street Hospital the unique right to royalties from stage performances of Peter Pan (and any adaptation of the play) as well as from publications, audio books, ebooks, radio broadcasts and films of the story of Peter Pan, in perpetuity.

[brittasfan]

I have and it isn't the same. The show did once say that Laura was a neccessary component in keeping the centre even slightly stable and it shows in Series 6 and 7.

I always rooted for these two.