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justarandomgirly · 6 months

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Nicholas Galitzine in High strung (2016)

#my gifs #high strung #johnnie blackwell #nicholas galitzine #nicholasgalitzine #nick galitzine #nickgalitzine

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pippin-katz · 3 months

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i would like to thank nicholas galitzine for single-handedly inspiring me to give all of my noble/royal characters a slutty little hoop earring in one ear; truly one of my best decisions, thank you sir

#nicholas galitzine #mary and george #george villiers #high strung #johnnie blackwell #cinderella 2021 #prince robert

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idealuk · 9 months

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One (1) man is trying to kill queer people this month.

youtube

At least queer people are trying to kill him in both films [emotionally (including himself as his own character) in one and physically in the other].

... Or ...

The universe: We need, not one, but two groundbreaking queer films like the world has never seen before to come out this month.

Nick: I have to be in both, and I have to be the emotional powerhouse in one, and the comedic heel in the other.

The universe: You don't have to.

Nick: Four words for you: Cinderella and Purple Hearts.

The universe: You're right, take it away, sir.

Nick currently can't talk about the queer awesomeness that's being released with him as featured this month so I will.

By the way, I highly recommend High Strung, Handsome Devil (where he also played a queer character), and “Chambers” (where his character's queerness was up debate) from what I've seen from his résumé, but “Chambers” is trippy (in addition to its storyline's itself), because his mother there goes from that to his mother-in-law with Red, White, And Royal Blue (he also played a queer character in the mess that was The Craft: Legacy).

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meraki-yao · 3 months

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So here's the thing

The first time, first time that I saw Nick in my life, ever

Was this video

youtube

(yes I'm a two set violin fan)

Nick, babygirl, I love you but you... don't know how to play the violin

The thing is Nick's previous films misled me on his musical skills so much! There's this that made me think that he didn't know music but turns out he's great with a guitar and a piano

And then there's me listening to his cover of "Somebody to Love" in Cinderella which for some reason sounds so damn autotuned, which made me think that he can't sing, but then I got into RWRB and went to check his IG and OH GOD HE HAS THE VOICE OF AN ANGEL

Still wondering if I'll do like a reaction post of Cinderella 2021 if I have the time. I showed my sister some bits and she gave some pretty memeable quotes such as her commentary on Princess Gwen's ballgown made my Cinderella (and these are direct quotes):

The flesh colour makes her look naked

this looks like a bad attempt at a toga

When I thought of the necklace thing, I was thinking should I say chest or boobs?

so maybe we'll do it together? Idk

Either way, thank God Nick's doing better projects now (and hoping for the same for Taylor as well)

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #nicholas galitzine #henry hanover stuart fox #henry fox mountchristen windsor #high strung #johnnie blackwell #twosetviolin #rwrb rambles #this post is all over the place lmao

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crazyjerseygirl84 · 2 years

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I always wonder if Nicholas’ favorite color is black or lilac or is it both. I read somewhere that he liked lilac or black or both.

#nicholas galitzine #Johnnie Blackwell #henry fox mountchristen windsor #rwrb movie #high strung

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justarandomgirly · 7 months

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Nicholas Galitzine in High strung (2016)

#my gifs #high strung #nicholas galitzine #johnnie #nicholasgalitzine #nick galitzine #nickgalitzine

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wanderingguest · 1 year

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+ @brittlefcrged ( liked for johnny faust )

“No, yeah, gimme sec! I’m...my foot! No, I’m not my foot, it’s just...fucking...I’m tangled up!”

Okay, fine, he sounds ridiculous. A grown man with his foot tangled in a rug? At least he sounds happy and not high. For the moment, anyway. As far as Johnny is concerned, that’s a win. Something to celebrate, even if no one else sees it that way.

“HELP!” And now he’s laughing outright because it’s stupid, and he’s stupid, but he’s in a good mood. “Please help me get my foot out of this stupid thing!”

#brittlefcrged #( v. only actions can speak the truth )#( .jfv2 )#( c. johnny faust )#(i mean....at least he's happy for the moment and not strung out?)#(good luck with this manchild)#( .ic interactions )

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pippin-katz · 3 months

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Like A Love Song

Pairing: M/M | Crossover Ship - Marco Peña/Johnnie Blackwell Media: The Kissing Booth 2 (2020), High Strung (2016) Rating: T (for language) Word Count: 2,098

Marco is having a shitty day and goes to the park with his guitar to relax, but ends up having an interesting interaction with the attractive violinist who plays at the same spot.

A/N: I literally wrote this in a fit of inspiration and need for a romcom short story, but it came out pretty nice, so I thought I'd share here! Enjoy!

As the subway slowed to a stop, Marco lifted his wrist up to read his watch. He read 1:26 and heaved out a heavy sigh as he stepped off the subway car onto the platform. His guitar bounced against his back as he made his way up the stairs. The breeze greeted him by playing with the dark curls resting on his forehead, but the sun was nowhere to be found. It seems that it was aware of Marco’s melancholy mood and opted to spend the day behind the clouds in solidarity.

His day had been unpleasant since he woke up twenty minutes late that morning. In his haste to catch the bus to campus and make it to class on time, he hadn’t been able to brew himself a cup of coffee and forgot to put his laptop back into his bag after studying the night before. He ended up being forced to take notes by hand, leaving it cramping and sore afterwards, as well as giving him a wicked headache. Such pain had been a hindrance to practicing for his thesis performance in the following class.

Music and migraines don’t mix well. After only an hour, his professor had noticed his lack of progress and given him a pitying look. Marco couldn’t remember the last time he felt so embarrassed as they suggested he take the rest of the day off.

He had taken the advice, intending to purchase lunch from his favorite food court restaurant, only to discover that it was closed for some reason. He’d settled for a lackluster protein bar from the vending machine.

That’s what led up to where he was now, begrudgingly exiting the subway station. As silly as it was, all the obstacles and inconveniences caused a lump to form in his throat and heat to prickle behind his eyes. Marco was disappointed, exhausted, and hungry, and all he wanted to do was relax, even if it was only for a few hours.

Despite the lack of sun, it was pleasant outside. The subway station he��d gotten off at was next to a park that he often visited when he needed fresh air. Sometimes he brought his guitar with him and played whatever he wanted, not caring about anything, and letting the music take him wherever it led. If he was lucky, occasionally someone would drop some change or bills into his open guitar case. He didn’t play for tips but being a college student with a major in music, he never turned them down. Overall, it was an enjoyable experience.

There was only one problem: Hot Leather Jacket Violin Guy.

He was exactly what he sounded like. He was tall and pale, with dark hair that swooped down to fall just barely over his eyes. His lips were full and looked absurdly soft. He always wore casual alternative clothing that was typically topped off with the leather jacket his nickname implied. The final piece was, of course, the aforementioned violin. It was a dark brown that looked nearly black, and though Marco was certainly no violin expert, he could tell it was one of high quality; it was definitely not bought from an everyday music store. He was good, really good. The sound that came from it was richer than any other he’d heard. Every note seemed to sing with emotion.

Hot Leather Jacket Violin Guy was stunning, incredibly skilled, and Marco fucking hated him. Well… sort of.

There was no logical reason for it. Despite making eye contact a few times, they’d never spoken to each other. It wasn’t as though Violin Guy had done anything to warrant his hatred. All he did was stand in the same spot every day, look unfairly beautiful, and play the violin. Maybe that was all he needed to do for Marco to dislike him; maybe if he stopped and thought about it for a few minutes, he’d be able to chalk it up to projecting his own insecurities onto the handsome stranger.

However, on this particularly shitty day, he couldn’t care less. Marco was not someone who asked for much. He didn’t find himself asking some divine power for favors regularly, but today all he wanted was for Hot Leather Jacket Violin Guy to not be at the park.

Luck was not on his side, as should have been evident to him from the events of the day leading up into this moment. Marco trudged along the sidewalk to his favorite spot in the park; it was a coincidence that it was the same place Hot Leather Jacket Violin Guy played. There was a small fountain with tables around it. The concrete turned into pretty tiles, making it look like a little plaza. It was by far the best part of the park in his opinion, and he wasn’t going to let some brooding violinist with a pretty face ruin that for him.

That was his thought process as he approached the fountain. The soft sound of running water was accompanied by the telltale notes of the violin, allowing him to hear the other man’s presence before he could see him. Marco rounded the fountain and was greeted with the visual of the violinist; he pointedly refused to acknowledge if his heart sped up.

As usual, Violin Guy was wearing some ripped black jeans, a band t-shirt, and his signature leather jacket. His eyes were closed as he let his bow glide across the strings, and there was a barely noticeable sway in his body as he played.

Marco recognized another musician with true passion for their craft easily, which only made him more annoyed. It was harder to justify his distaste for the guy when he shared a musical soul. He sighed as he shook his head and wandered over to sit under a tree.

Marco’s hands were still a bit sore from class that morning, but it wasn’t unbearable, and he wasn’t planning to play anything difficult. He methodically removed his guitar from his back and set the case down in front of himself. He moved slowly as he unzipped it, retrieving the instrument.

The guitar’s wood was familiar and smooth under his fingertips. Its cool surface was soothing. He plucked a few notes experimentally, adjusting the tightness of the strings to find the perfect pitches. Once everything was properly tuned and prepared, Marco closed his eyes and exhaled.

Stress and anxiety had been clinging to him all day like a soaking wet blanket, weighing him down and sticking to him uncomfortably, but when he focused on the cool breeze on his skin and the sounds of nature around him, it slowly melted away. His fingers moved on their own as he strummed and plucked whatever notes called to him. He let his melancholy mood move his music rather than forced himself to play something more upbeat; fighting negative emotion was a waste of time. The improvised melody reflected his mental state perfectly.

Marco sighed as he paused at the end of a phrase, feeling as blue as the cloudy sky overhead. It really had not been a good day.

That’s when he heard the melody echoing back to him through the voice of the violin a few feet away. Marco looked up from his seat on the grass, eyes landing on the Violin Guy, who was standing a little closer than he had been before.

Instinctively, Marco scowled. What? Did this guy think he was better than him? Was he playing the same tune just to demonstrate how much lovelier it sounded when he played it?

As Violin Guy played, he glanced his way, making deliberate eye contact. Marco felt himself freeze under his gaze, unable to look away as he listened to solemn notes come from the other man’s instrument. He captured the same sadness that Marco had originally played with, but then he added to the tune. When he listened very closely, he could hear an almost questioning tone underlying some of the notes.

The man met his gaze again as he paused, his expression neutral but eyes expectant. Tingles ran up and down his spine; it was a question. Marco looked down at the guitar in his hands. He debated for a moment. For some reason, Violin Guy had noticed his negative mood and chose to approach him, speaking a musical language that only they understood. Marco didn’t know why he was doing this, but he would be lying if he wasn’t curious about the man. This was his opportunity. He poised his fingers to answer.

He licked his lips as he concentrated, plucking out a slightly different melody. His disappointment and exhaustion bled into the music. Marco closed his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows as he felt it all flow through the guitar. When he finished the phrase, he turned his head toward the violinist.

Violin Guy gave him a tiny nod, so small that Marco wasn’t sure if it was a nod at all. Then he raised his bow to the strings once more and spoke back. A series of notes floated through the air. They were soft, maintaining a somewhat melancholy feeling, but there was a twist in them. It was something hopeful and kind that made Marco’s chest expand and his eyes grow hot. Against all odds, his lips quirked up just a little bit as he listened to the sweet sound of the violin.

He met the man’s eyes again, his own widening as he received a small smile in return; he didn’t think he had ever seen Violin Guy smile before. He nodded down to the guitar as he continued to play, the tune becoming more hopeful as he continued. It was an invitation.

Marco felt his throat close up as his cheeks warmed, but despite the nerves, he began to play along. He was hesitant at first, but the two instruments blended beautifully as they performed their impromptu duet. There was so much feeling and personality in each sound, but somehow, they came together in just the right ways to create a masterful melody. Marco’s lips grew into a true smile as the frustrations of the day left his mind. His playing grew livelier, brighter, and by the time they finished their little song, he couldn’t even remember why he was so upset to begin with.

He beamed at the violinist as he lowered his guitar back into his lap, and the other man looked down bashfully, nervously tapping his thigh with his bow. Then he straightened his posture and stuck his chin out a bit. He made eye contact with Marco and walked directly up to him without pausing.

Marco’s eyes widened as he was offered a hand. Uncertainly, he tried to meet him in a handshake, but the violinist grabbed his wrist instead, making him gasp. He tucked his violin under his arm and fished into the pocket of his leather jacket. Marco found himself unable to speak as he pulled out a pen. He opened it with his teeth and quickly scribbled onto his skin.

When he finished, he released Marco’s hand and cleared his throat. His pale cheeks had grown quite red. He opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind. He closed it, and instead nodded to him before turning to walk away, pretending as though he was unbothered when the opposite was obvious. Marco blinked rapidly, frozen for a moment. His skin still tingled from the other man’s touch. He looked down at the writing, his heart leaping as he recognized a phone number.

There was also a note underneath the digits. His cheeks flushed with heat as he grinned shyly to himself. The man had written: “I hear music when you smile. – Johnnie”

Marco looked up to see the violinist, Johnnie, with his violin packed away and posed to leave. He rubbed the back of his neck, figure tense as he kept glancing between him and the ground. Marco flashed him his most dazzling smile, and the tension in his shoulders disappeared as relief washed over his expression. He raised his hand to give him a small wave as he began to walk away. Marco returned it enthusiastically and watched with his grin still in place as he left.

Once Johnnie was gone, he ghosted his fingertips over the ink on his wrist. He pulled out his phone and created a new contact with the number. Marco inputted his name but tapped to add a note. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself as he typed: Hot Leather Jacket Violin Guy <3

#fanfic #crossover ship #marco peña x johnnie blackwell #the kissing booth 2 #marco peña #taylor zakhar perez #high strung #johnnie blackwell #nicholas galitzine

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passion-musique · 1 year

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Iggy Pop est de retour avec « Strung Out Johnny »

Pour le plus grand plaisir de ses fans, Iggy Pop est de retour avec son nouvel album ! Ainsi c’est le tube « Strung Out Johnny » qu’il a décidé de mettre en avant !

Crédit photo : Alex Const / Attribution 2.0 Générique (CC BY 2.0)

#Iggy pop #nouvel album #strung out johnny

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peachesofteal · 5 months

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Light on - single mom/neighbor fic - reader POV - 18+ MDNI Simon Riley/female reader

“Ye dinnae have tae worry.”

Johnny, Simon’s friend, or coworker, you guess, croons to the two of you, happy faced Emma bobbing in his arms. She’s perfectly content with him, her affinity for big strong men clearly grown since knowing Simon, when she took to him like a duck to water.

Still. You’ve never left your baby in the care of a stranger.

Simon, somehow, senses the hesitance. Sees the tepid enthusiasm, a big palm settling at the middle of your back, mouth leaning close to hover above your ear. “If you’re not sure, we can stay in.”

“No!” You settle as quickly as you can after the blurted admission, embarrassment simmering away in your gut. “No, sorry. I trust you... I trust your judgement.” You motion to Johnny, who’s watching you with a serious expression. “I’m sure it will be fine, it’s just-“

“You’ve only ever left her with me.” He finishes for you, and you look up at him, relieved to find soft brown eyes crinkling with understanding, sweetness. The tender affection you’ve come to know so dearly.

“Just that one time and- and she’s so little.” At the same time, she yawns, little chest rising and falling with a big exhale, tiny lids begrudgingly drooping shut. She’s just going to be sleeping anyway. Just go.

Another voice whispers in the back of your mind. One you haven’t heard for quite some time, urging you forward from beyond the light.

Be brave.

Dinner is great. Better than great, even. It’s… wonderful. Perfect. The restaurant is decked out for the holiday, and there are lights of every color strung from the rafters, soft music wafting and weaving through the throng of diners, low light accompanied with candles dotting each table. The food is delicious, aromatic and rich, and both you and Simon eat until you’re complaining of feeling too full, one last glass of wine settling into your veins with a giddy effervescent that makes you giggle just a little bit too much.

“We’re not due back for another hour.” He muses, after the check’s paid and you’re both lingering by the door, his warm hand squeezing yours. “Want to walk?” He motions to the green space across the block, the one that’s got a big tree glowing in the middle, flanked with a residential street all lit up, more lights and decorations shining into the night.

“These houses are pretty.” You murmur, cheek smushed against his bicep, arm wrapped around his like you’re a koala, and he’s your tree. Your shelter.

“You like ‘em?” You take a left, peeling off into the park, steps naturally in stride, and he adjusts, pulling his arm free to wrap it around your shoulder, heart warming in your chest when you feel his lips come down across your head overtop your hat, the touch alone enough to make you feel toasty all the way through your boots.

“Yeah. Always wanted Emma to have a yard, y’know?” You sigh. It’s not out of reach, so much, but everything was easier with two incomes, and before it was just you and her, you felt like the dream was nearly attainable. Nearly there. “One day.” You slow to a stop in front of a tree, it’s long trunk stretching towards the sky, barren branches wrapped in string lights, and turn expectantly, face tilted. Kiss me, you hope your expression tells him. Make me yours.

His mouth covers yours, fiercely, lips parting to work tongues and teeth together, fingers scrabbling across clothing, seeking, touching. You trace along the hem of his shirt, up under his jacket, his skin shivering beneath your touch, muscles tensing, shaking in the night. Your palm splays flat against his ribs, his abs, and you hum into his mouth, thighs pressing together at the feeling of him reacting to your touch. He’s been such a gentleman. So perfect, with you in his bed. He looked away, every time you tried to prance into the room in a too small pair of sleep shorts. He averted his eyes, when you rolled over without a bra on, breasts loose in your sleep t shirt. Even cuddling, waking up together, going to sleep... he was respectful. You wish he was just a little more willing… to be bad.

You tried not to think about the alternative. The idea that he’s seen your stretch marks, and stomach, enough to make you feel a little sick. You’ve been strategic about it, big shirts, hips covered, but what if…

You bury the thoughts. The dread and spiral that feels like circling the drain. The wine makes you feel bold, it makes you feel desperate to know. Does he want this?

“Simon.” You gasp, hardly separating yourself to speak. Instead, you feed your words to him, hoping they’ll sink through, hoping they’ll make sense. “I need- I want you to touch me.” He pulls away, hand cradling your cheek, leveling you with a serious look.

“We don’t have to rush this, sweetheart, I-“

“I’m not rushing.” More tongue. He tastes like the whiskey from dinner, and the tannins of your wine. Like the bread and the oil, rich silky texture, earth and salt exploding in your senses. “I’m ready.” You find his hand, pulling it from your cheek, dipping low to crawl up under the bottom of your sweater, until his knuckles are brushing against the skin of your diaphragm. There’s a sharp intake of breath and then-

His hand folds over the curve of your breast, thumb slipping inside the fabric of your bra, stroking across your nipple. When he feels it, firm against his touch, he groans, pressing closer, his body crowding yours against the tree. The width of his frame shields you, and he drifts low to your skirt, teasing his touch across your lower belly, fingers dipping into the waistband.

“You think you’re ready for me?” He hums in your ear, teeth grazing against the shell. You shudder, soft whine slipping free, and he shifts, hard cock swollen in his jeans, now pressing between your legs, making you throb for him beneath tartan and cotton. “Are you sure, sweetheart?” He slides his hand down, searching beneath your skirt, grazing along the outside of your panties. You close your eyes when his finger slips inside, stroking through where you know you’re ready, where you’re so wet, clit pulsing with desperation for him. He circles your entrance, dipping inside you and then out, stroking over your swollen bud, making you jolt and whimper in his hold. “Fuck.” He breathes.

“Yeah, I’m-“

“You’re soaked for me.” He kisses you, long and deep and furious, still working his finger gently back and forth. “This pussy been wet all night, honey?” Your eyes nearly roll back into your fucking skull, words failing on your tongue.

“Simon… I- yeah.”

“Want me to take you home, take care of you?” He presses deeper, heel of his hand making contact with your clit, thick finger sinking into you, moan swallowed by his mouth. “Think you can be quiet enough so you don’t wake the baby?” He thrusts, pressure grinding upwards, your walls clenching desperately. You nod frantically, but he doesn’t stop, keeps fucking up into you with his finger, bringing you dangerously close to the edge quicker than you ever thought possible.

“Fuck, I-“

“Shhh.” He hushes, mouth wide on your cheek before slotting his lips against yours and pulling free, finger falling away from your body. You watch with wide eyes as he brings it to his lips, slipping it inside to taste you, lashes fluttering like he’s dining on some sort of decadence. “I’ll give what you need sweetheart.” His forehead touches yours. “I’ll give you everything. I promise.” He swears, and something glints in his eyes, something serious, nearly predatory, severe and dedicated, so intense that it makes you shiver.

“Okay.”

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #light on

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chargeaznable · 1 year

Video

youtube

Iggy Pop - Strung Out Johnny (Official Audio)

#youtube #iggy pop #strung out johnny #Every Loser Out #Concert

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alvertesongdiary · 1 year

Video

youtube

Iggy Pop - Strung Out Johnny

Hey man, I see you Open up, okay Get out of here, Iggy Come on now, fix me up

Love becomes compulsive It's wiser to say no God made me a junkie But Satan told me so

You're strung out Johnny And you can't get away You're strung out Johnny And now it's time to pay

First time you do it with a friend Second time you do it in a bed Third time you can't get enough And a life gets all fucked up

All fucked up You're strung out Johnny (Strung out Johnny, oh) You're strung out Johnny (Strung out Johnny, oh)

Promise said to Donnie Sell that boy his spoon Dump him like a hero Or be forgotten soon

I'm strung out mommy And I can't get away I'm strung out mommy And now it's time to pay

First time you do it with a friend Second time you do it in a bed Third time you can't get enough And a life gets all fucked up

All fucked up You're strung out Johnny

You're strung out Johnny (Strung out Johnny, oh) And you can't get away You're strung out Johnny (Strung out Johnny, oh) And now it's time to pay You're strung out Johnny (Strung out Johnny, oh) Nobody loves you so You're strung out Johnny (Strung out Johnny, oh) And that's the way it goes I'm strung out mommy (Strung out Johnny, oh) I'm strung out mommy (Strung out Johnny, oh) You're strung out Johnny

05/01/2022

#iggy pop #strung out johnny #lyrics #music #youtube #song of the day #diary

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