#Harry your chav is showing

[all-things-fic]

Seems like I need to bring back of Harris I’d a chav tag 🤷🏻‍♀️

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Home Pt.3 || cbf!Simon "Ghost" Riley

Rating: M Words: 2.2K~ CW: - Tags: you/your pronouns, jealousy, a bit smutty (if you squint), ANGST (at the end), teen romance, underage drinking, British slang (attempted). a/n: not proofread.

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You remember the first time Simon got jealous. It was sudden and unexpected. It was just a couple weeks after your first kiss (and dry-humping session), when you were still somewhat uncertain of where you stood, of what you were.

All six members of your friend group were hanging out at a pub you knew. A little hole-in-the-wall spot, whose owner/bartender was an old fart not quite fussed about the idea of having underage kids inside, nor about serving them alcohol.

Simon, your cousin Oliver, Archie, Jack, Harry, aka the same boys you met that night a few years before, and Emily, Olly’s girlfriend. Simon and you had been somewhat avoiding each other. You still hung out, but less so in private, too embarrassed and awkward to properly face each other after what you did.

Most of the lads were playing pool in the corner leaving you and Emily to your own devices, parked in a booth in the corner, chatting about all sorts of random things, gossiping, drinking cheap beer, and eating roasted peanuts. The seats all around the two of you were strewn with coats and keys and wallets, belonging to the blokes, which you were unofficially tasked with watching over.

Emily was in the middle of telling you a story about some girls over in her school, the same one Simon went to. Her voice was dramatic and boisterous as she chewed her peanuts a bit too loud and waved her hands and head around, her hoop earrings catching the light a little bit.

You had no clue who the girls she was talking about were, but the way Emily was so determined to tell you about all their transgressions made you hate them by proxy, so you reacted accordingly, shocked and angry, which made Emily giddy, happy that you agreed and saw it as she did.

Emily was your portal for figuring out what exactly the blokes were like when they were in school, something you couldn’t see because you went to a different high school. She told you all about the shenanigans the boys got up to, the fights and arguments and their grades, especially because they were all the same age, a year older than you, and therefore shared many classes.

It was thanks to her that you found out that Simon was good at English Lit, History, and Geography. Simon himself would never admit to liking literature (and you made sure to ask!). You also found out that he loved P.E. class, often being the first out of the locker room to do warm-ups, even if, most of the time, their P.E. class is just the blokes playing football.

You liked Emily and she liked you. She was a bit of a chav, sure, wearing bold make-up, hair greasy more often than not, and chewing gum loudly, but she was nice and chill. She was a recent addition to the group but she treated you super well, always saying that she was a “girls’ girl” and you both made sure to put the boys in their place when they got too rowdy. Not like some of the other girls the lads dated before, who got jealous over your mere existence/friendship.

It was while you were lost in thought, enjoying Emily’s vibrant personality and wild gossip about some girl at their school who got knocked up, that it happened. A couple of tall figures came to the edge of your table.

“Oi babes! What's the craic? Fancy some company?” asked a voice above the two of you. You looked up to find a couple of blokes, about the same age as you, smirking as they leaned into the booth next to you.

“Oh, thanks, but we're okay.” You said politely, your face showing disinterest.

“Just the two of you?” His friend said. You gave Emily a look and then tried to look between the two lads, just barely catching sight of the five blokes that composed your friend group standing around the pool table… completely clueless.

“No, our mates are around. We’re just having a little quiet time for ourselves.” Emily added as she glanced at the blokes, chewing her peanuts quite loudly.

“Quiet? Boring, more like. We know how to liven things up!” One of the blokes said and smirked, nudging his buddy with his elbow.

“Yeah, come on, don't be like that. We're just here to have a laugh!” The second one said, his voice playful and seductive (or his best attempt at it).

“We're good lads, promise.” The first bloke added, to which his buddy nodded in agreement. “I’m Josh, and this is Liam.” He introduced the both of them.

“Yeah, we can see that. But we're really just here to catch up with each other.” You replied bluntly, your voice losing some of the politeness it held until now.

“Catching up, eh? Well, we're good at that too!” Josh said while sliding down onto the booth next to Emily, forcing her to scoot away.

“Got some stories that'd make you laugh for days,” Liam added, scooting into the booth next to you, an arm coming to wrap over the back of the booth, dangerously close to setting around your shoulders.

“I'm sure you do. But really, we're fine. Cheers.” Emily replied as she tried to shoo off Josh with a dismissive wave. But neither of the blokes was taking a hint.

“How about a dance then? I reckon we'd be the best dance partners you've ever had.” Liam suggested as he began leaning close to you.

His hand began sliding across your shoulder, which was exposed in a spaghetti-strapped top. You smacked his hand off you and scooted away as well. “What's the rush, darlin'? We're just trying to be friendly!” Liam said defensively.

As Josh and Liam exchanged confident glances, thinking they'd make another attempt to charm the two of you, the atmosphere shifted. Simon had suddenly joined the scene, Olly was already jogging up behind him, as the blond lad stood ever imposing in front of the booth.

“Everything okay here, ladies?” Olly asked as he glanced down at Liam and Josh. He didn’t look pleased by the scene, just like Simon. He was double as protective, with you being his cousin, and Emily being his bird.

The two other lads damn near paled at the sight of Simon’s sheer height standing inches from them, hands in the pockets of his hoodie and a serious face framed by the black hood on his head.

“Yeah, we're good, Ols. They've just been trying to chat us up.” Emily replied, her lips morphing into a playful smirk. She was probably trying to make Oliver a bit jealous.

“Yeah! They even offered us a dance.” You piped up, joining her. You could see the veins nearly pop in Simon’s neck, his left eye twitching ever so slightly as he heard you.

You knew then that he was pissed, feeling jealous of the fact a lad was chatting you up. It was the first real sign you got that his avoidance of you wasn’t due to malice, but awkwardness for the feelings you both had for one another.

“Is that so?” Simon finally asked, his brown eyes sliding across all the people in the booth, but growing especially hard at the sight of Liam’s hand on your shoulder.

Slowly, you felt Liam’s hand slip away from you while he forced some distance between the two of you by scooting away. “Yeah, just offering some company. No harm done.” Liam said defensively.

Josh seemed to pick up on the fact Liam was scooting off, and he did the same, standing up and showing his hands while muttering a “Yeah, just bein’ friendly.”

“That's good to hear. We're a friendly bunch too, you know. Just wanted to make sure you're aware these lovely ladies are taken.” Olly said while he looked at the two other lads who were attempting to chat up his girlfriend and his cousin. “So, how about you two lads move along?” He suggested.

Simon, meanwhile, kept glaring at the other lads, his height posing an advantage as he stood a few inches taller than them. “Yeah, before things get more complicated than they need be.” He added.

Josh and Liam exchanged a somewhat concerned glance, not exactly panicked or scared, since they were also cocky teenage boys high on nothing if not hubris… But they muttered something else apologetically and made themselves scarce.

Olly took Josh’s seat next to Emily and wrapped his arm around her, checking on her with a “You alright, love?” before dropping a kiss onto her mouth, making the girl giggle.

Simon, meanwhile, looked at you while still standing by the booth. You fixed the thin straps of your top and bra while looking up at him as well. He reached a hand toward you and beckoned you to take it. You did.

He reached into the booth and grabbed his parka and yours while muttering some type of warning to Olly that you couldn’t quite make out, and your cousin probably couldn’t either because he was busy shoving his tongue down Emily’s throat.

Simon tossed your coat at you, which you pulled on, and grabbed his belongings (keys, wallet, phone). Then, he dragged you by the bicep out of the pub. You knew what was about to happen. You could feel it, warming up in your tummy… He made sure that Josh and Liam could see the way he took you, glaring right at them, as you desperately sped up the pace to keep up with his large strides, your cheeks a bit flushed and warm as he walked you both out. 

Next thing you knew, he had your front pressed against the passenger side door of his dad’s car, your chest rubbing against the window. Simon was behind you, his left hand holding your jaw to keep your face turned back, his lips pressed onto yours, his tongue taking over your mouth. 

You didn’t remember much about your first kiss with him. It had been only a couple weeks prior, but you were both high. Sure, you remembered it happening but all the sensations had been heightened in the moment and had nullified after you had sobered up.

But if this kiss was anything to go off of, it was a great kiss. Simon’s lips on yours were making you see stars, his taller body pressing you so hard against the side of the car that you couldn’t help but shiver. The car’s surface was ice cold against the skin of your lower tummy and collarbone, which your top didn’t quite cover.

Then, Simon’s right hand pulled up the back of your parka holding it out of the way as his fingers gripped onto your hip, so he could rut his cock against the curve of your ass.

He refused to break the kiss, his lips greedily sucking onto yours, his tongue claiming your mouth as his. He would mumble things here and there, little whispers showing his enjoyment. “Blimey, can’t get enough of you…”, “Killed me seein’ those blokes chattin’ you up...”, “Almost knocked their teeth out…”, “Fuckin’ hell…”, “Your kisses… so fuckin’ good…”, “All I can think now about is kissin’ you…”.

Truth be told, you had been going wild for him, the distance painful not just because of how awkward it felt to see him around your mutual mates and not be able to be ‘close’, but because of how much you liked him and missed him.

But now you got to have him again. Awkwardness be damned, you were finally kissing again, finally dry-humping again. And it felt glorious. You’d never regret this, you knew it deep down. 

You think of that as you stand in the train station. It’s 4:59 A.M. and your tired, sleepless eyes are locked onto Simon as he sits inside, backpack sitting on his lap, his hair recently buzzcut.

You didn’t sleep at all tonight, neither did he. You spent the last few hours you had together in each other’s arms, kissing and holding each other close, and even having sex in the back of his father’s car, as usual.

And now, here you are, holding the keys to his dad’s car in your hands. A gift he’s leaving behind, a way to keep yourself safe and way from your own dad, so you can sleep somewhere else.

The announcement system warns of the departure of the train he sits in, with a destination to Harrogate. In a couple of hours, he’ll be at the Army Foundation College to start his military career…

Your lips are swollen and red, and so are his. you kissed too much. Too hard. You take a hand up to feel them up with your fingers, almost like you're trying to hold on to the feel of him.

The doors to the train close and a mechanical hiss is heard. Simon’s eyes are set on you and squint through the glare of the lights inside the train versus the darkness of the station outside. You hope he can’t see the way your eyes are welling up with tears.

Simon was your first in all the ways you could think of. Your first crush, your first boy best friend, your first kiss, your first time… 

And as his train pulls away from the station, you think to yourself…

He’s your first heartbreak too.

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[cantcompetewhereudontcompare]

Louis - the Liam Gallagher cosplayer

I said my next project would be Louis as a homophobic bully - with proof. But the hard proof I have is in a hard drive I can't access right now, so I'll leave that for later (but it is coming as soon as I can).

I thought instead I'd tackle a huge thing that's been bothering me, especially in light of the Oasis reunion.

I'm personally a huge fan of Oasis, and everything about Louis regarding Oasis annoys me, but particularly these two things:

He's not an actual fan and never was. Just a casual listener who's marketing himself a certain way to appeal to a certain audience

He's attempting (rather embarrassingly) to be a copy-paste version of Liam Gallagher

I'll divide this into two parts, and this first post will be about point #1, because it'll be too long otherwise.

Anyone who was a fan of One Direction in their early days would know that Louis' Thing, the music he said he enjoyed, was Top 40 radio. He can act like he's an indie rock band enthusiast all he wants, but that's just simply not true. In fact, that was HARRY'S thing throughout his time in the band.

Fans called him a hipster (the whole Frat Harry thing came later, at the time, in 2013, fans said he was a hipster). And Louis LITERALLY mocked him for liking "obscure" bands.

Here, March 13 2013, One Direction's Take Me Home Tour in Dublin. They read Twitter questions and answered them on stage. The question was "What's the number one song played on your iPod?" and Louis introduces the question to Harry with "Harry, got any indie bands we haven't heard of?"

Here's the video. The question is at 2:06, first he talks to Zayn, then Niall, then at 2:36 to Harry.

This isn't a one-time incident, but it's one I distinctly remember (because I went to multiple shows of that tour and followed it closely!) and can physically point out. It happened multiple times. It was a Thing Louis mocked him about constantly. Keep in mind, Louis was 21 when this happened, a fully developed grown adult who had been in the industry for three years and was a professional musician.

Why do I say this? Does it bother me that he mocked Harry? No, that's just banter lmao. But what bothers me is that a few years later, he would rebrand as someone who enjoyed indie music, as an indie musician himself, who enjoyed and propped up unknown bands. And his fans would act like Harry was the popstar who made and enjoyed shallow music and Louis was a rock connoisseur all along.

At 21 Louis... distinctly wasn't that person - he also wasn't that person at 22, or 23, or 24, he started being that person in 2017, when he decided to craft his entire persona around being a Donny chav who gave you a two-finger salute and wore trackies to red carpet events.

Louis didn't even try to act like his musical style was indie rock back then. in the early 2010s there was a type of social media called Ping where you could log in songs that you liked. It was connected to your Twitter account and your iTunes account. Because in late 2012 (Louis was almost 21, might I add), it was about to shut down, a fan (a Larrie) documented the whole thing in screenshots. Here's the post. Of course they make everything about their conspiracy, but the account was legit (connected to his verified Twitter account) and the post made the rounds on normal Tumblr, so I remember seeing it at the time and saving it because it was interesting.

Some of the songs that he added to his Ping:

Thinking of You, Part of Me, Wide Awake, and the entire Teenage Dream album by Katy Perry

Talking to the Moon by Bruno Mars

Look After You by The Fray

Someone Like You by Adele

Far Away by Nickelback (he got this as a tattoo lol)

Who Knew by Pink

Bedshaped by Keane

I'm With You Avril Lavigne

Take Care by Drake

Yellow, Shiver, Talk, Fix You by Coldplay

Moves Like Jagger and Payphone by Maroon 5

It Girl by Jason Derulo

Without You by David Guetta & Usher

Love Story and We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together by Taylor Swift

Domino by Jessie J

Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol

Goodbye My Lover by James Blunt

Titanium by Sia and David Guetta

Somebody That I Used to Know by Gotye

Turn Up The Music by Chris Brown

Let's Go by Calvin Harris

Mr. Brightside and Somebody Told Me by The Killers

We Are Young by Fun.

Stop And Stare by OneRepublic

She Moves In Her Own Way by The Kooks

Basket Case and Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day

Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen

I Miss You by Blink 182

Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous by Good Charlotte

Bright Lights (the album) by Ellie Goulding

Believe (the album) by Justin Bieber

Naive by Lily Allen

Imagine by John Lennon

How We Do (Party) by Rita Ora

All of these songs are heavy rotation radio hits. I'm not sure how many people will see this post, if any, but if it happens upon any young Gen Z or Gen Alpha eyes, who happen to not know some of these, they're literally just... the most played songs on the radio at the time, and Imagine by John Lennon (which was the only song older than 2000 in his entire Ping).

The only bands he has on this entire log, are Two Door Cinema Club, who you might say "oh wait, that's indie isn't it?" except they reached #2 in the UK albums chart in 2012, when this log happened. Literally following trends once again. Same thing goes for Owl City, it's a somewhat indie project, but they had a big hit (certified Diamond and hit #1 in the UK and the US), Louis logged in the project immediately after this song made it big. A bunch of John Mayer songs, who in 2012 was hyper-mainstream. Or the #1 album Coexist by The XX. And songs from the #1 album in the UK Contrast, by Conor Maynard. That plus the incredibly mainstream hits by some more rockish bands (I'm surprised he didn't log in American Idiot by Green Day) and pop. That's it.

What about Oasis? It's there.

Stop The Clocks - a greatest hits record.

Stop Crying Your Heart out - literally the #3 most popular song of theirs on Spotify

Little By Little - a huge hit off one of their latest albums (33 million YouTube Views, 85 million Spotify plays)

I'm sure he enjoyed himself some Oasis. He was a British boy growing up in the late 90s and early 2000s. It'd be weird if he didn't. But he never talked about going to see them growing up (he was 16 when they played in England for the last time). He logged in just one album, and it was a greatest hits. He logged in two songs, and they were both huge hits. He logged in a ton of songs by Coldplay, or Katy Perry. Hell, he has more songs logged in for DRAKE than Oasis.

It's obviously not definite proof, but he had that Ping account for two years, and all his iTunes purchases or likes showed up. I also don't remember him mentioning them in any particular way throughout his time in the band. Nor him mentioning going to see them. Or wearing their merch. Or...

Despite both Liam and Noel having a Twitter account as far back as 2009/2010, Louis didn't follow either of them until 2017

So that in and of itself is bizarre for someone who in 2017 would give a million different interviews specifically mentioning Oasis and Liam Gallagher, right?

But the most egregious part of his pretend act, is that he's just flat out wrong about Oasis in and of itself.

First of all, in every single interview he mentions Oasis, he singles out Liam Gallagher. You can look it up, because frankly, there's so many interviews where he does this that I could probably be here forever. He talks about Liam Gallagher so much it's almost obnoxious (and we'll get on to that in part 2), but he almost never talks about Noel. Who he mentions is Liam. Even though he says Oasis was a huge part of his inspiration as an artist, who he mentions is Liam. And this is in the context of Oasis, as a band who inspired him growing up, not Liam Gallagher as a solo artist. OASIS. Liam.

To the uninitiated on Oasis, Liam is my favorite because he's great. He's funny, he's charming, he has a distinct voice that makes Oasis stand out. He's a mean tambourine player. But to name Liam as your inspiration when you admire Oasis, as a musician, is akin to doing that with Ringo and The Beatles.

Just so we're clear, this is the writing credits for their debut album:

Their second album

Third album

Shall I go on?

Liam doesn't play instruments, except the maracas or the aforementioned tambourine. Noel:

Just:

You have to actively ignore everything about the band to pretend that your inspiration, musically, as a musician, is LIAM GALLAGHER if you actively like Oasis. What the hell are we talking about?

To be clear, Louis didn't say in these interviews that he admired Liam's vocals (which he could never in a million years imitate, and I beg him not to try), or attitude, or charisma, or fucking tambourine expertise. He talked about lyrics, and music, and songwriting. And yet, he never mentioned Noel Gallagher. IN THE CONTEXT OF TALKING ABOUT OASIS.

Listen, I fucking hate Noel Gallagher. He's a c*nt. But I happen to like Oasis, and I know, despite how much I despise him, that Oasis wouldn't exist without him.

So why did Louis mention Liam??? Well, two main reasons.

His fans don't give a fuck. They don't care about his musical opinions because they're not fans of his music or him as a musician. It's why they don't listen to it. They're fans of his status as a purported underdog or the conspiracy theories surrounding him, or rate him as a part of the band they once liked. Some of them pity follow him. He could say his musical inspiration is Miley Cyrus because of how well she plays banjo and it'd make absolutely no difference for them. Also, most of them are musically illiterate and would find a way to justify anything he says, despite being completely nonsensical, if they even listen to him in the first place.

Because of #1, Louis has been on a quest to capture a specific type of audience. He tried to capture the 1D audience with Just Hold On and Back To You (which are songs that are actually up his alley in terms of the music he consumed). But despite being his best commercially performing songs, they failed to actually and significantly move the needle. And he saw the writing on the wall even in the middle of promo for Back To You. Which is why he gave up trying to be commercially successful with that crowd and has been relentlessly trying to shift his audience.

It's why he wears sweatpants and sneakers everywhere, why he called himself a chav in 2017/2018, why the horrible haircuts, why the constant smoking and drinking in promo pics, why the pivot to "actually, I'm a die hard indie enthusiast" even though four years prior he mocked his bandmate for that exact musical taste. It's why he markets his own music as indie, rock, etc, even though it's decidedly not. It's why he does the photoshoots he does, hires the people he hires, and has the bands he has in his narcissistic "festival."

It's put-up on. I suspect it's partially borne out of deep insecurity and wanting to appeal to the type of guy he went to school with. I think his mates, despite enjoying the wealth of 1D's success, took the piss out of him for being in a boyband. This is pure speculation, but we're talking about the guys who openly retweet Andrew Tate (Nizam Kabir), or mocked his singing voice in his ex girlfriend's posts...

Let's actually expand on that, Hannah Walker, Louis' ex girlfriend, uploaded a video to her instagram account singing with a sore throat. It was captioned "sore throat singing" and this is what one of his "best friends" from childhood, Calvin Rodgers, commented on it:

This wasn't some gentle banter either, this was around a point in time where Calvin and Louis weren't hanging out (2013/2014). I actually saw Hannah's post and the comments a few years ago, but her account has gone private since.

"Calvin (unprompted) In theory, the singing wasn't AS flat as Louis" another friend (Dan Woollet) replies "Fair point" to which Calvin replies "Not only fair, but true." Hannah replies "controversial."

Louis cheated on Hannah with Eleanor (I can do a deep dive on that later), and at first Hannah didn't know, so she and Louis were on good terms, but she has been openly very negative about Louis ever since late 2011.

Calvin is also a musician, by the way. His comment was fair and true. Louis' singing IS flat. I doubt he'd say that to his face when he's on good terms with him, especially because he greatly benefits from Louis' money and status (his friends have mooched everything from access to events, to paid vacations on yachts by being with him, to outright jobs). But from things Louis has said in interviews, such as "I don't have a skincare routine because my friends would make fun of me" or "if I showed up wearing designer clothes my friends would never let me hear the end of it," it does seem like he has this need to fit in and seek approval from these idiots. I'll never understand it, and I'm not going to try and psychoanalyze him (and he doesn't wanna do therapy because he's too good for therapy anyway), but I think he wouldn't be seeking this audience otherwise.

His attempts have clearly failed. His music is consumed less and less. He's at 2.4 million monthly listeners on Spotify. Just so we're clear, Spotify has a chart of the most monthly listeners per artist, where they chart the first 500 artists from 1 to 500. #1 currently is The Weeknd with 107M. #2 is Billie Eilish. Harry is #53 without having released music in 2 and a half years (which is amazing).

The #500 is Lynyrd Skynyrd with 16,147,684 monthly listeners. Louis would have to gain 14 MILLION monthly listeners to be at the bottom of the list. That is SEVEN TIMES the total amount he has right now. That's how bad it is.

His fans don't listen to his music. They're just incredibly annoying online because their idea of stanning him or being his fan is Twitter, and TikTok, and some of them on Tumblr and never shutting up despite having zero actual arguments to back anything up (which is why I'm venting on this blog, and potentially giving Harries tools to shut these idiots up because I know how annoying they are).

I think he's still trying to market himself this way because deep down he still wants the acceptance of his high school buddies and other men like them, and his idea of cool is (deluding himself into believing to) have a career that his buddies would actually respect (as opposed to 1D).

To close off this part of the post, I'll leave with the worst part. How do I know he's not and was never a fan of Oasis? How do I know that he's lying when he says they were his inspiration as an artist?

Well, this:

He said variations of this multiple times in multiple interviews. He bashed metaphors a ton, for instance:

“[So how you classify your genre?] Oh, that’s a big question. Wow, that’s hard. In terms of what I’m looking for from a production point of view, I want things to sound organic and live. Not too many programmed instruments. I want it to feel authentic. From a lyric perspective, almost like indie-pop, very conversational. All these sexy metaphors people put in their music? I ain’t got time for that. I like it straight to the point. It’s hard to classify it as a particular genre.”

Source.

Here's another he gave for MTV:

Though "Back to You" is certifiably pop, Tomlinson grew up loving guitar-based rock bands, he said, and that when it came time to sit down and create solo music of his own, he found inspiration in the acts from his youth: mainly Oasis and Arctic Monkeys, both from Northern England (like Tomlinson). "The way that they write I've always found very interesting because, you know, if you look at a pop song fundamentally, lyrically it's very different to the conversational style that Arctic Monkeys or Oasis might use, and that's exciting to me," Tomlinson said.

All I can say is.. What the actual fuck is he talking about?

Obviously I have a lot more that I can say. But. WHAT?

Let's ignore Arctic Monkeys, because yes, I would absolutely call "honest and to the point" early Arctic Monkeys. Honest meh, because early AM was so conversational and so casual and about such mundane things that honesty wasn't really a factor, but whatever. It was incredibly to the point. BUT OASIS? OASIS??? Honest and to the point? OASIS?? OASIS??

Just so we're clear, the most mainstream song Oasis has ever released is Wonderwall. Everyone knows that song, correct? What the fuck is a wonderwall? That is not A WORD.

The word "wonderwall" came from a George Harrison album. And the lyrics have absolutely nothing to do with it. The song itself is a "Hollywood-esque song" that talks about "some unfathomable crazy love story."

The entire premise of wonderwall is that one person who's always there for you, but told in an abstract metaphorical way. That is by definition the opposite of what Louis said he wanted and liked.

In fact, Oasis FAMOUSLY worship the ground The Beatles walk on. Hell, Liam named his kid fucking LENNON. One of the most known facts about The Beatles was the amount of fucking NONSENSE they wrote in their lyrics. I Am The Walrus?! Like, this is music 101. Louis you are supposed to be a musician (yet play no instruments).

The second most mainstream song by Oasis is Champagne Supernova.

This is a verse from that song:

Wake up the dawn and ask her why A dreamer dreams she never dies Wipe that tear away now from your eye Slowly walking down the hall Faster than a cannonball Where were you while we were gettin' high?

Exactly what part of this is honest and to the point? I thought he hated metaphors?

Remember the songs he Pinged? Let's see those lyrics.

Little By Little

'Cause little by little We gave you everything you ever dreamed of Little by little The wheels of your life have slowly fallen off Little by little You have to give it all in all your life And all the time I just asked myself why, you really here?

I'm gonna go insane. What the fuck did he mean by "honest and to the point" immediately after saying the word "Oasis"? Is he OKAY? Is he having a stroke and smelling colors? How else can he describe this as "honest and to the point"?

The other song was Stop Crying Your Heart Out

Hold up Hold on Don't be scared You'll never change what's been and gone May your smile (May your smile) Shine on (Shine on) Don't be scared (Don't be scared) Your destiny may keep you warm

I'm swimming in directness and honesty here, you guys. I can't believe how to the point these lyrics are! Metaphors? Never knew 'em! Soooo conversational!

But maybe I'm cherry picking songs, and the rest of Oasis' discography actually fits what Louis said, right? RIGHT?!

Let's look at Stop The Clocks, the Greatest Hits album Louis pinged back in 2012. Literally the first verse of the songs in order. Just so we're very clear.

Rock 'N Roll Star

I live my life for the stars that shine People say, "It's just a waste of time" Then they said, "I should feed my head" That to me was just a day in bed I'll take my car and drive real far They're not concerned about the way we are In my mind my dreams are real Now you concerned about the way I feel Tonight I'm a rock 'n' roll star

Some Might Say

Some might say that sunshine follows thunder Go and tell it to the man who cannot shine Some might say that we should never ponder On our thoughts today' cause they hold sway over time

Talk Tonight

Sittin' on my own, chewin' on a bone A thousand million miles from home When something hit me Somewhere right between the eyes Sleepin' on a plane, you know you can't complain You took your last chance once again I landed, stranded Hardly even knew your name

Lyla

Calling all the stars to fall And catch the silver sunlight in your hands Come for me and set me free Lift me up and take me where I stand She believes in everything And everyone and you and yours and mine I waited for a thousand years For you to come and blow me out my mind

The Importance of Being Idle

I sold my soul for the second time 'Cause the man don't pay me I begged my landlord for some more time He said, "Son, the bills are waiting" My best friend called me the other night He said, "Man, are you crazy?" My girlfriend told me to get a life She said, "Boy, you lazy"

Seriously I wanna sit down and ask this man what the hell he was talking about. How can he, with a straight face, say that LIAM GALLAGHER was his musical inspiration growing up because of the lyrics of OASIS, and how straight and to the point, devoid of metaphors, they were. It's the most nonsensical talking point I've ever heard. If he was even remotely relevant the way people would've laughed their head off at him saying this would´ve been diabolical.

He said Oasis and Arctic Monkeys because they fit the persona he wanted to build (even geographically).

There are SO many actual indie bands from up north who write the type of lyrics he claims he likes, but he's too lazy to actually do research into this put-upon image he chose for himself (I hardly think a competent group of people was behind any of it).

He changed his hair, his facial hair, his clothing style, the way he talks, walks, the words he says, how he stands in front of a microphone, his facial expressions, the aesthetic surrounding him, even the people and teams he hired for his career, to cosplay Liam Gallagher. This isn't a case of inspiration. Inspiration is normal. It happens in art every single day. Everything we do is an amalgamation of stuff others have done before. Everything is invented. I want to make it very clear that I don't find any of that problematic in any way.

But Louis is an inch away from wearing the skin of Liam Gallagher as a winter coat. I'll actually dive deep into that in a second part of this post, because it really does go SO deep.

And I sincerely doubt he likes him or his music all that much. He just likes the idea of people viewing him like they view Liam and the "respect" he would get from men.

[alarrytale]

Can you please explain what do you mean by ‘Harry struggles more with the closet, but i think Louis struggles more with his straight image’ ?

Hi, sure!

I think Harry struggles more with not being allowed to be free. To be able to express himself like he wants, do what he wants, act how he wants and not have to curtail himself and mute himself. I think he feels like there is chains holding him back and he wants out of the hold. He dosn't want to be boxed in, or fit into a mold. He wants to open the closet door and step out into the world as himself.

Harry: Freedom.

With Louis i think his main issue is fitting into his straight image. He's being pigeonholed into this laddy lad, chav straight dude, a stereotypical dude (absent father who enforces stereotypical gender roles), and that is simply not who he is. He's much more than that, much more complex than that. He's been conditioned to curtail his natural flamboyancy, but when he's relaxed he forgets himself sometimes, and i think he struggles with the back and forth. The one who he is in private, and who he is in public. I think the discrepancy is very big between the two roles. It's hard to live up to an image you don’t totally identify with. It's also hard to mute your natural mannerisms, not react to a sea of rainbow lights at your shows or show recognition to your mostly larrie fanbase. His image is stopping him from doing all that.

[twopoppies]

Hi I just read this post of yours and I was wondering do you have a special tag or masterpost about Louis' Donny chav image? Bc I am kinda on the same line as you in your post. I think Louis really loves his roots in Doncaster but I feel like sometimes his image is forced upon too much and it's a little exaggerated....so do you happen to have a post or tag about that? I also have another question: you know how a lot of celebs go to celeb parties rigth? (I think Harry does that a lot bc he is friends with so many people) do you think Louis actually attends those too, but they don't show us that side of him? Or do you think he is probably not actually attending those kind of parties? :)

https://cutiebearlouis.tumblr.com/post/678448258855600128/google-tells-me-there-are-plenty-of-sushi-places

Hi sugar. I will confess that I'm a terribly inconsistent tagger. So no, I don't really have a specific tag for that. But you can try these: LOUIS' IMAGE

CHAV IMAGE

LAD VS CHAV

MEDIA MANIPULATION

PR AND MARKETING

As for Louis and Harry going to parties (or not), so much of that is wrapped up in the images that have been created for them. Harry is the cool A-lister who knows all the celebrities and goes to all the cool places and parties. Louis (up until recently) only wants to hang out with his school mates, hates Hollywood and celebrity culture, would rather smoke cigarettes and get shit-faced at a club than be seen at an event like the Met Gala.

So, while some of the image is probably real for both of them, it's also exaggerated and 2-dimensional. Neither one is 100% only that image. Additionally, the images were created to separate Harry and Louis and make it look as though these are two men who would never possibly be dating, couldn't possibly even like each other because they're so different.

That's my long way of saying that yes, while he may prefer something more low key, I think Louis attends his fair share of parties and knows plenty of celebrities.

[featherymalignancy]

CHAPTER TWO—In Vino Veritas: A Nessian Story

“In wine lies the truth”

Summary: Nesta Archeron is convinced she has everything she wants: a law degree from an ivy, a prestigious job, a gorgeous boyfriend, and excellent taste in wine. However, when she wanders into her local wine vendor and meets a handsome stranger unafraid to play her quick-witted games, she begins to wonder if the life she’s built is really the one she wants.

Cash Kahukore worked his entire adolescent life to become a sommelier, ignoring the slurs his mixed heritage have always earned him as he fought his way to the top. However, after five years abroad buying for Michelin star restaurants and dealing with rich white assholes, he’s grown bored with his life. When a gorgeous lawyer comes in to his uncle’s shop one afternoon, he immediately recognizes a worthy opponent in her. Undaunted by her sharp tongue and possessive boyfriend, he’s determined to be her friend, and—as time goes on and their circumstances change—possibly something more.

This a prequel to Navy Suits and Chelsea Boots that takes place three years before. If you love Elriel (and don’t mind finding out how this story ends) check it now.

And if you missed anything, check out the In Vino Veritas masterlist here!

Chapter Two: Ornellaia

A dinner party, Nesta repeated her herself as she drove. She’d had a dinner party. And it was true: she had had a dinner party. It wasn’t her fault that her friends had drank through half a case of the Cheval in a single evening. 

And it wasn’t as if she’d thrown the party just so she could have an excuse see Cassian again. It was just a coincidence. A...consequence of the dinner party. He couldn’t question her being back so soon when she had an explanation as logical as a dinner party.

Yes, this wasn’t about Cassian, she promised herself as she parked her car. This was about the dinner party. 

This in mind, Nesta only stole a quick glance in the mirror to make sure she didn’t look too harried before stepping out of the car. People had dinner parties all the time, she reminded herself as she strode to the door and threw it open. There was nothing strange about friends drinking wine at a dinner party.

She took a deep breath and stepped inside the Merchant of Vino to the tell-tale chime, her face smoothed of any telling emotion. A dinner party, she repeated to herself. A normal, boring dinner party.

Cash grinned when he saw her, and she straightened, adjusting the bag on her arm.

“There she is,” he said, straightening from where he’d been leaning over the bar organizing open bottles in the well. “Back so soon?”

“I had a dinner party,” she said breezily. “And my friends are big drinkers.”

He raised his eyebrows, and she tried to ignore how good he looked with his with his hair half-up and half-down. It was longer than she’d first thought, nearly brushing the collar of his T-shirt, and good lord did it suit him. 

He smirked and made to comment, either on her dinner party or her assessment of him, but she sidestepped any further questions by looking him up and down and offering, “didn’t have you pegged as a guy who wore joggers.”

She gestured to the fitted track pants he wore, and he laughed. 

“A consequence of too much time in England, I’m afraid,” he said, returning to his task. “You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a chav.”

She bit back her assurance that they looked good on him, not wanting to muddy the waters. 

Still, she couldn’t help going a bit slack-jawed as he continued organizing. The way the dark cotton hugged his toned backside was one shade of grey off from being downright indecent, and God forgive her, Nesta was here for it. 

She glanced away as he straightened, pretending to be studying the new banquet table that now adorned the space. 

“This is beautiful,” she said, trailing around it to get a better look. When she noticed the elegant M insignia branded into one corner she turned, incredulous. 

“Is this a Macar?”

Given her love of beautiful and expensive things, Nesta made it her business to stay current on the hottest trends in food, fashion, and design, and right now, there was no one more adored in the design world than Azriel Macar. 

He owned a studio out of LA, and despite being under thirty, he was already the darling of the taste-making elite. He’d been compared to icons like Ray Eames and Mies Van der Rohe, and a Vanity Fair article Nesta’d recently read had hailed him “The Future of Furniture.” 

He was also—like any good icon—seemingly spotlight-adverse, and given how young and handsome he was, his elusiveness only seemed to add to his cache. Still, whether his talent or his brooding charm, his designs were white-hot, and owning an original had grown virtually impossible.

Cash looked up, smiling. 

“You have a good eye.”

“Where did you get this?” Nesta said, still admiring the way the table’s grain flowed in elegant patterns across its surface. “The last I heard, the waitlist for a piece was two years long, and even then it was only celebrities and hedgefund managers.”

Cash turned and smirked. 

“I have my ways.”

Nesta pursed her lips, and he laughed. 

“Az and I—go way back. He made me that special so I can finally start hosting tasting in here. I love Dev, but he wouldn’t know a good business opportunity if it slapped him on the ass and rode him to Hong Kong.”

Nesta was too surprised too laugh.

“You’re friends with Azriel Macar? Curiouser and curiouser.”

Cash laughed. 

“Don’t feed the legend, please. The last thing this world needs is Az with an ego. And I wouldn’t say friends, exactly. More like brothers. We’ve known each other forever.” Cash huffed another laugh. “Hell, I’ve known him since he was still Azriel Machlan.”

As soon as he said it, he winced.

“Fuck, please don’t repeat that. Az would be devastated if it got out.”

Nesta was dying to ask more questions, but hearing the slight desperation in his voice, she decided not to push. Instead she nodded and locked her lips, moving from the table to study a map of the Napa valley on the wall.

She could feel his gaze as he studied her in profile, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to snap at him or bask a little longer under its warmth. 

After a beat she turned to face him, expecting him to look away. Men, she found, were generally adverse to maintaining direct eye contact with her. It’s their color, a male colleague had once explained. I swear, one look from you is cold enough to freeze my balls off.

Cash, however, didn’t blink. Feeling off-kilter, Nesta pursed her lips, though she refused to break contact.

“What?” She demanded. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Technically you’re also staring at me,” he said, and she could see his grin in the way his eyes crinkled. “Not that I blame you.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, finally breaking the connection.

“You’re insufferable.”

He chuckled.

“I’ve been called worse. I was just about to open a bottle from Tuscany one of my reps dropped off. Can I tempt you?”

His tone was light, but he couldn’t quite disguise the heat in his gaze as he glanced at her again. However, it faded just as quickly, and Nesta found herself wondering if she’d imagined it. 

“I told you I’m not a fan of the Old World stuff,” she said, even as she took a seat.

“I thought we’d gotten past that with the Cheval! You were in love and we both know it.”

He grinned, and she had to savagely fend off a flush. 

“Stopped watch is still right twice a day,” she sniffed. 

He gave a velvety laugh born low in his throat.

“You’re never going to make it easy, are you, Archeron?”

“Not my style.”

He bit his lip and grinned before pulling the band from his hair and re-tying it up and away from his face.

“Fine. Get your pencil out, then. I’m taking you to school.”

She rolled her eyes to keep from smiling. 

“Don’t hold your breath.”

He laughed, leaning over the counter slightly. She could smell the crisp scent of sage from the soap he used, and she tried to ignore how nice it was. 

“That’s rich, coming from the woman practically climaxed from one sip of a French red.”

She should be annoyed—insulted, even—but she found she couldn’t fend off a smile this time. He grinned at seeing her reaction, raising his brows.

“Looks like I know more about women than you thought.”

“Shut up and pour the damn wine.”

“Hang on,” he said, grabbing the bottle that had been sitting on counter and heading towards the back. 

“Where are you going?”

He smirked over his shoulder. 

“To get the big guns. I know what it takes to impress you.”

He reappeared with a different bottle, presenting it to her as if they were in a fine-dining restaurant. 

“2015 Ornellaia Bordeaux from Tuscany. This stuff is always amazing, but 2015 was the perfect harvest year. The fruit and balsamic notes come through with such clarity, and it’s incredibly silky on the tongue.”

He paused to glance up at her, expression slightly wicked. She rolled her eyes. 

“You know your tawdry innuendos are wasted on me.”

He laughed. 

“Sorry, force of habit. You ready?”

He pulled a wine key inlaid with turquoise from his back pocket and removed the cork in four elegant twists. 

“Show off,” she said, and he grinned. 

“Admit it, you’re impressed.”

“Maybe a little.”

“And slightly turned on?”

Something bright and effervescent bubbled in her stomach as he grinned at her. However, when she thought of Tomás would say if he could see her right now, the feeling curdled.

“You know I’m not afraid to slap you,” she said, finding with surprise she didn’t want to ruin the moment even though I knew she should be reestablishing  firm boundaries. 

“Don’t tempt me with a good time. Okay, in a perfect world we’d let this breathe a little more, but I’m going to assume you don’t have two hours to spare.”

He poured her a measure, and she held it up to admire the color before taking a sip. It was tannic and slightly sharp on the front end, but the mineral flavor quickly gave way to rich fruit and—just as he’d said—an incredibly smooth finish.

“That’s—“ she broke off, laughing as she admired her glass. “You really are good at this.”

He raised his eyebrows with a smirk.

“It’s almost like it’s my job.”

He took a sip and let his eyes flutter shut as he held it on his tongue, and it was beautiful in the way only pure enjoyment could be.

“In England, you were a somm?”

He nodded. 

“London.”

“Why did you leave?”

“When you love something, doing it for a living gets...tricky. I liked being able to teach people about wine, but there’s only so much rich douchbaggery a person can endure before the damage to their psyche is irreversible. Basically it was come back or turn into a douchebag myself.”

She gave an obliging nod.

“Seems prudent.”

“What about you?” he said, studying her with scrutiny. “I’m going to guess...lawyer.”

She rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t pretend you just pulled that out of thin air.”

He laughed.

“How else would I have known?”

Her heart thumped in her chest as she debated calling his bluff. If she was wrong, she’d look foolish, which is obviously hated doing. And if she was right...

“Maybe you asked your uncle about me. He knows I’m an attorney.”

Cash considered this before taking another thoughtful sip. 

“Would you be angry if I had?”

“Depends on what you wanted to know.”

He shrugged. 

“Nothing I hope you wouldn’t tell me yourself. Unless being a lawyer is a CIA cover, and you don’t like people looking too closely?”

She laughed. She wasn’t sure what to make of his admission or—more importantly—what she wanted it to mean.

“No intrigue, I’m afraid. I’m just a boring lawyer.”

He shrugged again, but he was smiling now, much of the tension melting from his shoulders.

“That’s exactly what a spy would say. And you did threaten to disembowel me with your shoe...be honest, am I on the right track?”

She leaned forward, dropping her voice. 

“Stop asking questions that could get you killed.”

He laughed. A big, genuine laugh that warmed her from the inside out. She’d often be called smart, or sharp-tongued, or witty, but no one had ever thought to tell her she was funny. No one but her sisters, and even then she worried they were just trying to make her feel better. Cash though—he didn’t know her. He had no reason to pretend. She knew it was girlish and naive to be charmed by that, but she found she couldn’t quite help it.

“Alright,” he said. “Enough messing around. Admit you love this wine so I can start my gloating.”

“I never said I loved it,” she said, taking another prim sip. 

Cash gave a look of theatrical dismay.

“You hate it. Fuck, I knew it. I’m so sorry, let me just—“

He reached for her glass as if to pour it out, and she quickly snatched it out of his reach.

“I never said I didn’t!” She clarified, batting his hand away.

“Such a lawyer’s response. C’mon, Archeron, don’t be stingy!”

“Fine,” she said, giving an imperious sniff. “I...like it.”

Cash grinned, leaning forward again. 

“Now admit you like me.”

She opened her mouth to choke out a retort before her phone began ringing. 

It was Tomás. 

She glanced at the glass Cash was refilling for her and debated letting it go to voicemail. She knew she couldn’t, though; it would just lead to more trouble. 

Flashing Cash an apologetic look, she picked it up.

“Carinho,” she said, flipping into Portuguese to avoid Cash’s overhearing. “How was your day?”

“Where are you, my love?” Tomás said. “I just got home and you’re not here.”

“I had to stay at work,” Nesta said, the lie slipping out before she could stop it. “I’m sorry.”

“You never mentioned that you’d be out late,” Tomas said, and Nesta could hear the annoyance in his voice. “I expected to see you when I got home. How much longer?”

Nesta glanced at her full glass and then at Cash, who’d gone about cleaning the worn bar top.

“An hour,” she said. 

“We agreed you’d stop doing this. Last night you were out with your sister until almost ten.”

She fought down a searing stab of frustration. It wasn’t often that Elain could get away to come see her, and Tomás always threw a fit when she went down to Palo Alto for more than a day. 

“I’ll be home as soon as I can,“ she said, gentling her tone. “I love you.”

“No later than eight, querida. I’m setting a timer.”

“I’ll see you then,” she said, ending the call before he could say anything more.

What was she doing? She knew what kind of mood Tomás would likely be in when she got home, and if he ever found out the truth, he would be livid. It was dangerous game, and one she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she was still playing. 

Nesta put away her phone before looking up to find Cash watching her, eyes hard. 

“What?” She snapped, voice thinner than she would have liked. 

Cash’s frown softened, though his expression remained uncharacteristically grave.

“You don’t have to lie to him,” he said in a soft voice. “You aren’t doing anything wrong.”

Nesta felt her heart drop into her stomach.

 “You speak Portuguese.”

Cash frowned again as if deciding whether he wanted to press the issue. He eventually settled for shrugging.

“My mom was Brazilian. I was born in Forteleza and lived there until I was twelve.”

Nesta didn’t have to ask what had changed. She felt the familiar ache swelling in her chest, and she nodded, wishing she knew how to comfort him the way he’d comforted her. Instead she forged on. 

“Where did you go after that?”

“To live with my dad’s family in Hawai’i. He died before I was born, but my grandmother was there. I went to stay with her.”

“How long has your family lived there?”

He gave a puzzled frown. 

“What do you mean?”

Nesta felt her tongue fizzing the way it often did before she said something she terrible before she blurted, “Aren’t you Māori? I would have thought you family would have been in New Zealand.”

He gave a humorless laugh and crossed his arms. “Am I supposed to be charmed by the fact you know there’s a difference? Forgive me, I left your ‘Woke White Woman’ trophy at home.”

“I didn’t—“ she broke off, glancing down before looking back at him. “I’m sorry if that was insensitive. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

He considered this, expression still wary. 

“I’m not to give you a pat on the back for every brown-person cultural detail you manage to force into the conversation just so you can feel better about your white guilt.”

“I’m not asking you to,” she said. “But I am sorry. I—won’t do it again.”

“I won’t hold my breath on that,” he said. 

When he looked away, she dared to brush his forearm with the very tips of her fingers. 

“Cash, I’m sorry.”

His skin was warm and surprisingly soft, and she could feel the muscles beneath flex at her touch.

When he seemed to relax, she quickly let her hand drop.

“How did you even know?” He paused, narrowing his brows. “And if you mention either Jason Momoa or The Rock, I’m throwing you out.”

She opened her mouth to point out that neither of them was Māori before quickly shutting it, knowing it would only make things worse. She’d always had a pathological need to prove how much she knew, but after the rebuke she’d very fairly earned, she knew the conversation couldn’t withstand much more strain. 

“Your tattoos,” she said, fighting off the urge to tell him how beautiful they were. She didn’t think he’d be particularly charmed by that comment, either. 

He rolled his eyes at her response, though the tension seemed to have melted from his shoulders. 

“I’ll ignore the fetishistic implications of that, but only because I happen to enjoy the way you ogle me every time you think I’m not looking.” 

She made to object, but he was already forging ahead. 

“And to answer your question, yes, both my grandparents are from Waitomo. But my grandfather was a bad dude, so grandmother took her boys and moved to Hawai’i to get away from him. I know it killed her to leave, but she felt like she didn’t have her choice.”

He heaved a soft sigh.

“She made it work, though. She’s very proud of her culture, and she made sure we never forgot where we’d come from. Still,  she was always very respectful of my mother’s heritage as well. She insisted I keep up speaking Portuguese so I wouldn’t lose the language when I got older. I admit I don’t speak it very often anymore, but thanks to her, I’m still fluent.”

 “She sounds like an incredible woman,” Nesta said.

“She is,” Cash agreed, a grin forming as he paused. “Man, she would like you.”

Nesta flushed and looked away. She already felt guilty for lying to Tomás; she shouldn’t push it anymore than she already had. 

Cash seemed to note her unease because he leaned back, crossing his arms.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You said you had two sisters. What are they like?”

She considered this for a moment, and he laughed, shaking his head. 

“C’mon, Archeron. You owe me something after your little white knight routine.”

Nesta gave a begrudging nod and pulled out her phone to show him a recent picture.

“This is Elain. She’s my academic. Perfect score on her SAT and a full-ride to Stanford. She’s already looking at going to grad school at Yale. I swear, she’s going to change the face of scholarship one day.”

She paused to study the smile on Elain’s face in the photo before pointing to her youngest sister. 

“That’s Feyre. She’s my artist. She starting at Berkeley next month, and she’s definitely going to be famous; her work is incredible. She’s also my workhorse. I’ve never seen anyone put their shoulder to the wheel quite like she does. It’s so great to watch.”

She glanced up to find Cash studying her, all the contempt for her early indiscretion melted from his face. 

“Your folks died when you were young, then.”

Nesta shifted in her seat. “How did you know?”

“Because you talk about your sisters like they’re your kids.”

She glanced down into her glass before extending it for him to refill and beginning to speak. 

“I was sixteen when my parents died, but Ellie and Fey were still little; twelve and ten. My aunt and uncle were technically our legal guardians, but they were Sacramento. I didn’t want to uproot my sisters from their lives on top of everything else, so I convinced them I could handle it.”

She paused, watching the wine as it eddied in her glass. 

“The house was already paid off, and I had enough money from the life insurance payouts, so I just—made it work. I had loads of help from neighbors and family friends, and when it came time to go to college, I went to Stanford so I could still live at home with them. By the time I left for law school, Elain was in college herself, and Feyre was at art school in Boston, so I could still keep an eye on her.”

“Harvard.”

“Excuse me?”

Cash smiled. 

“I assume that was you way of making sure I knew you went to Harvard Law School.”

She curled her lip.

“I’d rather die.”

He laughed. 

“Yale, then.”

She shrugged, making him smile.

“I bet they idolize you.”

Nesta shrugged again.

“Elain, maybe. She was also the easy one. Feyre was a lot more headstrong. We mixed it up pretty hard when she was in high school. I got a call once that she’d been caught with weed in her dorm room, and I drove two hours up to Boston to yell at her in front of all her friends before I took her iPhone away. I think she hated me for a solid year after that.”

“How about now?”

Nesta smiled.

“Now we’re...good. She’s grown up a lot in the past two years, and she’s always been such a sweet, giving person. She’s still a little boy-crazier than I’d like, though.” She paused to give him an assessing look. “She would be all over a guy like you.”

Cash flashed a self-satisfied smirk, and she pursed her lips, pointing a finger in his direction. 

“Don’t even think about it.”

Cash snorted.

“High school seniors aren’t my type,” he said, eyes glittering as they flitted over her again.

She flushed, even as she wrestled the question of what his type actually was off her tongue. It was none of her business, and besides, she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear the answer.

“Still,” Cash said. “I bet we would get along. I was something of a renegade myself in my younger days.”

“I can only imagine. Though I don’t get the sense that your grandmother was one to suffer much bullshit from you.”

“She was not. One time in high school she caught me with a girl in my bed, and she dragged me buck-ass naked into the kitchen and lectured me for twenty minutes about respecting women and teenage parenthood. I had to just stand there with my junk in my hands while she screamed. I’m pretty sure everyone in the neighborhood heard her.”

Nesta couldn’t help it; she laughed. She laughed so hard that she had to set down her glass to keep from spilling on herself, and after a while Cash joined in.

“It wasn’t funny,” he said, still laughing. “I think she gave me a complex. I didn’t have sex again until I was like twenty!”

When she’s finally mastered herself, Nesta made to ask him for more stories before her phone started ringing again and her heart sank into her gut.

It was Tomás. Fuck, had it really been an hour already?

“I have to go,” she said hastily. “Thank you for the wine. It was excellent.”

“Take it with you,” he offered. 

She glanced down at the bottle then up at him, biting her lip.

“I can’t come home with that,” she admitted in a quiet voice, and his face tightened.

“Are you afraid of him?”

“Of course not,” she said automatically. “I just—he gets upset.”

Cash crossed his arms, and she was suddenly aware of how big he actually was. Normally that might have made her nervous, but with Cash... 

“What does he have to be upset about?” Cash demanded. “You’re allowed to have a life.”

“I have to go,” she said, ignoring his searing but plaintive expression. “I’ll—see you.”

“Nesta—“ Cash protested, but she was already hurrying to the door, redialing the phone and praying Tomás would be in an obliging mood when she got home. 

———————————————-

It had been three weeks since Nesta had come by the shop, and Cash was about ready to jump out of his skin. Honestly, it was getting sort of pathetic. He found himself perking up ever time the bell chimed, and getting quietly annoyed when he realized it wasn’t her.

He knew it was ridiculous for him to pine after a woman he barely knew, but he couldn’t help it. She was so damn smart, and her eyes, and that laugh—he’d gone weak-kneed when he’d first heard it, and now it was all he could think about. 

Fuck. Why did she have to a have a boyfriend, and why, on top of everything else, did he have to be a huge prick?

Cash groaned. He needed a drink. He was in the back room deliberating what he was in the mood for when the bell chimed, and he forced himself not to get excited. It was Saturday; so far as he could tell, Nesta only ever stopped by after work. However, his heart sped up when he glanced at the security monitor.

It was Nesta, wearing a trendy sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants he swore might be the death of him. Goddamn did she have a gorgeous ass.  Hastily checking his reflection in one of the glass panels of the white cellar, he strolled into the front of the shop, smirking.

“Be honest,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Are you stalking me? 

Nesta pulled off her sunglasses and gave him a withering look, but there was no heat behind it.

“You wish,” she said, flicking her long braid over her shoulder. Cash tracked the gesture keenly, fascinated by the fluid grace in the way she moved.  

“Maybe I do,” he admitted. “Alright, what will it be today? I just got a Shiraz in from Brisbane yesterday that I think you’ll love.”

Truth be told, he’d ordered the Shiraz specifically to impress her. She didn’t need to know that, though.

“I’m actually looking for a German Riesling,” she said, setting down her bag and sitting on the new table. 

An image of fucking her on top of it flashed through his mind, and he cursed himself for being a swine before giving her a playful frown.

“Have you been body snatched?”

“Ha-ha,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “It’s not for me. My sister asked me to pick it up for her.”

Cash smirked, crossing his arms.

“A likely story.”

Nesta pulled out her phone and put it on speaker, and a second later a sweet, lilting voice spilled out.

“Hey Nes, it’s Ellie! Will you do me a huge favor? I’m meeting Gray’s parents for the first time tonight and I forgot to get his mom something. Can stop by that wine shop you always go to in North Beach and get me a bottle of nice Riesling? I promise to pay you back! Love youuuuu.”

“Who’s Gray?”

Nesta rolled her eyes.

“Graysen. He’s Elain’s idiotic boyfriend. Don’t even get me started.”

Cash was tempted to point out that Nesta wasn’t in any real position to be judging unworthy boyfriends, but he kept his mouth shut. He was too excited to see her to risk insulting her and having her leave.

“Fair enough. Alright, come to the back. I’ll see what we have.”

Nesta hesitated, glancing at the door marked “Employees Only”. 

“Devlon won’t mind?”

Cash laughed, warmed by her concern for shop protocol.

“Why would he? You’re not planning on robbing the place, are you?”

“I could be,” she said, sliding to her feet. “You don’t know.”

“I think I can take you if it comes to that.”

Nesta pursed her lips.

“Please. I could totally bring you to your knees if I wanted.”

Oh, that he didn’t doubt. In fact, he was in danger of her doing it right now. It had been one thing seeing her all dressed up for work; it was something else entirely to see her so casual. It felt—intimate, somehow, like he was getting a glimpse behind to curtain into who she was when no one else was looking. It was honestly intoxicating.

“I will take that under advisement,” he said, gesturing for her to go ahead of him.

She nodded and did as she was bid, her eyes widening when he took her into the back. 

“This is amazing,” she said. “I had no idea there was so much room back here!” She wandered in between crates and peered into cabinets, eyes alight with curiosity.

“Like you said,” he offered, trailing after her. “I’m full of secrets.”

She turned to flash him a little smirk over her shoulder, and he almost tripped over a crate. If he thought seeing her perched on the table was distracting, this was much, much worse. 

“This way,” he said, leading her to the chilled white cellar and holding open the glass door. 

She stepped inside and he followed behind her. The space was tighter than he’d ever realized, and she a lot shorter. He supposed he was used to seeing her in stilletos, or sitting down. In the Nike trainers she currently wore, she barely reached his shoulder. 

“Right,” he said, inching out from behind her to lean on the nearest case. He didn’t want to feel like he was towering over her. “First things first: let’s talk price point. If she’s a college student I’m going to assume she’s broke, so let’s start around twenty dollars. I wouldn’t say we can go much lower than that.”

Nesta smirked, folding her arms across her chest. 

“I’m thinking more like two hundred. Do you have anything in that range?”

Cash laughed. 

“I do, but maybe you should run that by your sister first. Or is this some sort of usury scheme where you put her on a payment plan and charge her fifteen percent interest?”

Nesta scoffed, studying her nails self-importantly.

“Graysen is completely average in all things but his dad’s money, but he’s still decided that makes him special. Unfortunately, Elain rarely allows me to dress him down on this score, so I take my shots where I can get them.”

She shrugged. 

“He’s expecting her to come with a twenty dollar bottle he can use it to mansplain what makes a real Riesling, so I’ll give her a two hundred dollar bottle instead. She’s a hero, he looks like an uneducated jackass in front of his own parents, and everyone wins.”

“Except Graysen,” Cash said, laughing.

Nesta flashed a tight smile. 

“Exactly. I can hardly think of a better use of my money.”

“Devious, but charming. Alright, I’ll play. Do you know what they’re serving for dinner?”

“No idea. I’ll call her.”

His heart thumped a little harder. She was obviously very protective of her sisters; it felt significant that she’d him in on their private affairs.

Elain answered on the second ring.

“Hi baby,” Nesta said, her voice gentler than Cash had ever heard it. “I’m at Merchant right now picking out a wine. Do you know what Graysen’s mom is serving for dinner?”

“I don’t know,” Elain said. “But Gray said that the usually drink the white before dinner. Does that help?”

Nesta glanced at Cash, and he nodded. 

“Is the younger guy working today?” Elain asked before Nesta could continue. “Claire went in there after the party because she loved that wine you had so much, and she said he’s insanely hot.”

Cash felt something warm pool in his low belly as Nesta grit her teeth, cheeks pinking.

“You’re on speaker, El.”

“Oh fuck!” Elain said, her voice still sing-song. “My bad. Tell him—“

“I have to go,” Nesta interrupted. “Text me when you’re close and I’ll meet you at the house.”

She hung up and made a great show of putting her phone back in her purse as Cash watched her, grinning.

“You told your sister I was hot?”

Her gaze snapped to him, eyes blazing. They were the most gorgeous artic blue, and he wanted to tip into them until her drowned. 

“Our friend Claire Beddor told my sister you were hot,” Nesta corrected archly. 

Her tone was sharp, but somehow he could tell it wasn’t directed at him. He didn’t dare hope it was because she was jealous. 

“Reddish hair?” Cash asked. “Yeah, I remember her. She was sort of making me glad I was behind the counter. She kept giving me a look like she wanted to have her wicked way with me.”

Nesta tried to keep frowning, but he could see the smile she was wrestling off her face. 

“Crazy’s not my type either,” he said. “Just in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t,” she snapped, frowning again. “Who you choose to philander with is your own affair.”

He laughed to hide his disappointment. 

“Philander?” He pressed instead. “Is that what you think I do?”

All the playfulness had bled from her expression when she turned to him again. In fact, she looked almost sad. 

“I don’t care what you do, Cash,” she said quietly. “It’s none of my business.”

He felt his heart sink, even though he didn’t know why. He knew she had a boyfriend. They might flirt, but at the end of the day it was clear she wanted nothing more from him than that. He needed to accept it and move on. 

“Can we just pick something?” She said, voice softer now. “I’m getting chilly.”

“Of course,” he said, clearing his throat. “Alright, a riesling worthy of humiliation. Let me see.”

He scanned the case before pulling out a bottle and showing her. 

“This is a great one out of Austria. ‘97 vintage aged in their casks then bottled in 2014, so it’s had time to develop. It is honestly a perfect sipping wine. It has—and this is a technical term—a fuckton of sugar in it, but there’s enough acidity that it’s gorgeous and refreshing instead of saccharine. I’m not really one for riesling, but if I was, this is what I’d choose to drink. I promise this will blow them away. If you like this type of wine, there is literally nothing bad you could say about the Vinothek.”

She gave an approving nod before opening her mouth. He cut her off with a laugh. 

“And yes, Nesta, it’s suitably expensive.”

She gave a begrudging laugh as well. 

“Fine, I’m sold.” 

He nodded, leading her back to the tasting room. 

“You want to try it and see what I’m talking about? I don’t have this exact thing open, but I have something similar.”

She wrinkled her nose. 

“No, thank you. I’ll just take your word for it.”

“Right,” he said, turning to the computer to hide is disappointment. He really didn’t want this be over, but he’d run out of excuses to keep her there. 

“But I will try that Shiraz you mentioned.”

He grinned, turning back to face her. 

“I knew it,” he said. “I’ve won you over.”

“Hardly,” she sniffed. “But I have a theory that you’re only good with Old World wines. I want to see if I’m right.”

“Oh ye of little faith. Aren’t you tired of me proving you wrong?”

“Not yet,” she admitted, and there was something sincere in her tone that tugged at him. 

“Very well. It’s good for my ego, anyway. This,” he said, opening with bottle with ease and pouring her a measure, “honestly flirts with perfection. It’s dark and mysterious without being too heavy, and how they’ve managed to cram so many flavors in there without having them compete still boggles my mind. If you thought you liked the stuff Far Niente makes, you are going to die over this. It’s like Nickel and Nickel’s hotter, smarter, more polished older sister.”

Nesta took a sip, and Cash swore her eyes rolled back in her head. It was so hot he had to look away for a second. Nesta clearly had an educated palette, and watching her enjoy a wine the way it was meant to be enjoyed was so sexy he could hardly stand it. 

“Fuck,” she breathed, eyes still closed. “That might be better than sex.”

Oh sweet Jesus. Of all the things he’d expected her to say, that was not it. He fought not to groan as his jeans got a little tighter. 

“Sorry,” she said immediately, eyes fluttering open. “I didn’t—that was inappropriate. I just—“ she cleared her throat and down into her glass. “Yes, that is incredible.”

He smirked, forcing himself not to say any of the things he was thinking. She was clearly embarrassed, and much as he was dying to push the issue, he didn’t want her to clam up, or worse, leave altogether.

“Pleased you like it, despite knowing that you obviously would.”

He grinned, and she rolled her eyes, some of her characteristic vitriol limning her features. 

“Are you this insufferable with all your customers, or is it just me?”

“Most of my customers don’t make a point of trying to undermine my talent, so I find I rarely have cause to use it except with you.”

She snorted, taking another sip. 

“Please. Men like you need women like me.”

He couldn’t hold back a laugh. 

“Okay, I’ll bite: why do men like me need women like you?”

She arched brow at him, lips curving up in one corner to form an imperious smirk. It made her look both seductive and sinister, like villainess from a Disney movie. He wasn’t sure what it said about his taste in women, but he found it was really sort of turning him on.

“Because an unchecked male ego is like a landslide; it gathers speed quickly and leaves a mess in its wake. The world doesn’t have time to waste clearing your boulder-sized bullshit from the path of progress.”

Cash grinned, leaning his forearms on the counter. 

“Doesn’t that mean women like you also need men like me? You can’t keep a tongue sharp if you don’t have something rough to sharpen it against.”

She considered, eyes glittering. She was so beautiful it was almost hard to look at her.

“Women like me don’t need anything.”

“Everyone needs something, Archeron.”

She considered, eyes skating across his face. 

“I have everything I want,” she said in a soft voice. 

He studied her rigid posture and tight expression before quietly asking, “You sure about that, sweetheart?”

She looked away, huffing. He knew he’d hit a nerve about her shitty boyfriend, and he couldn’t decide if he felt validated or guilty. 

“You’re incorrigible,” she deflected, twirling her glass between elegant fingers. 

“And you,” he said, forcing himself to smile again. “Are a very worthy sparring partner. It’s highly entertaining, if slightly terrifying.”

At this she seemed to relax a little, drumming her long nails on the counter.

“You’re—adequate as well.”

He rolled his eyes. 

“I suppose that’s the best I can expect from you, so I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“Don’t be needy,” she said. “It’s not a flattering shade on you.”

“Ah,” he said. “So you admit that arrogance suits me better! I knew I’d catch you in a contradiction sooner or later.”

“Maybe you should have been a lawyer,” she sniped, but she was smiling now. “You seem to love arguing.”

“I wouldn’t have the colhões to go up against someone like you in court.”

She laughed this time, and his heartrate picked up. If he could, he’d bottle the sound and sell it. It would him a make a fortune, it was so lovely. 

“Alright,” she said, sliding off her stool. “I should go so I can meet Elain. Do you have a case of that Shiraz?”

“I do,” he said. “But only if you promise you won’t serve it at your next dinner party.”

She smirked. 

“Afraid my friend Claire will come after you again?”

“Honestly, yes.”

She laughed again, a little harder this time, and he couldn’t help grinning. However, when he wondered if her boyfriend ever made her laugh like that, he found his joy dimming a little. 

“And no freebies this time,” she called as he trailed into the back. “I’m not above tattling in your to Devlon.”

He laughed as he returned, grudgingly accepting her card and ringing her up. 

It wasn’t that he thought she needed the charity—though he did always feel guilty when a customer had a total with a comma in it—so much as he hated admitting their relationship was transactional. 

When she wasn’t paying, it was easier to pretend they were just friends, and that she’d come for his company as much as the wine. It was a lot harder to do when she was handing him an American Express Black Card. 

She didn’t object as he carried the case out to her car, watching him without comment as he heaved it into her trunk. And sure, maybe he’d been flexing more than was absolutely necessary, but when she was looking at him like that, he couldn’t help it. 

“Thank you,” she said. “For being complicit in my scheme to ruin a nineteen-year-old’s evening.”

He laughed.

“Happy to help...I think.”

“You are,” she said confidently, putting the Riesling in the passenger seat. “You loved it.”

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “Of course I did.”

She looked a little alarmed as she swung back to face him. 

“Cassian—“

“Take care of yourself, Nes,” he said, knowing he needed to leave before he said something he couldn’t take back. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes,” she said, regaining her composure and giving him a terse smile. “I’ll see you.”

He listened to the sound of the engine as she started the car and drove away, and he prayed it wouldn’t be another three weeks before he saw her again. 

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[llendrinall]

Do you have a favorite quote/moment/ in your Secret Language of Plants fic, or something you're extra proud of? I have a list of a few of my favorite moments. - the part about the different between evil and petty. It was so true and creative. - during the riots when they're beginning, and you talk about how shame is a made-up emotion, and you don't have to feel it if you and your peers decide you dont. - the riots in general. Sexism, racism etc CALLED OUT - "Let them not be touched by war".

There arequite a few scenes where I wouldn’t exactly say I was “proud” but I got a “neat!”feeling writing them. The Riots, of course, even though back then I thoughtthey were going to be a very niche thing. I am still surprised by everyone’s joyfulreaction to it. I saw so many “I wanna go to Hogwarts” comments that I thoughtthere was barely any one uncomfortable with Hogwarts’ less palatable traits. Iam very glad that it is not the case and that there are so many readersquestioning systems of oppression.

I enjoyed writingDudley and his gang. I seldom laugh at my own writing, but I laughed at thatone, at the idea of a bunch of upper-middle class kids playing chavs andbeating Death Eaters. The idea came to me while I was in the shower and I hadto get out, note it down quickly, and get back. I had never done that before.

Hermione saying“Honestly Ron, have you not read A History of Hogwarts?”. I liked how she gotto tell a joke. I don’t think we ever let Hermione have fun. I was so happy.

Siriusapologizing to Severus for that awful prank and Sirius saying his eyes are nota dominant trait and he is very inbred. They show a lot of self-awareness thatit’s very healthy and allow him to grow, when Azkaban had stunted canon Sirius’maturity.

Hermione’sordeal. She was so brave and strong and above shame. I wrote that chapter theday after Trump got elected and it was quite cleansing.

Everythingabout Lee Jordan from the hammer to the battle commentary. Just, the joy I got when his lines came quicklyand naturally to me.

Percy, ofcourse. Mad Percy and his mad plan. I remember I enjoyed writing Percy workingwith Scrimgeour, having someone on the good side be a bad man and having thatkind of silent almost invisible violence that is work and sexual harassment. Ifelt bad for Percy but I liked the depth it gave to all characters, showingthey were something more than their job.

Funnily, Ididn’t care that much about the pigeon scene even though it is a fan favorite. Ineeded some way to let people know that Hermione had been rescued and Harry andDraco were alive and well and I was so focused on finding the how that I didn’treally enjoy the result. I know that in that scene I liked that Crabbe andGoyle were allowed to show a soft side. They can still be stupid and ugly andthuggish but they are kids just like the others and they shouldn’t be fightinga war.

[elceeu2morrow]

NEW DIRECTION Louis Tomlinson on why he’s not ready to make up with Zayn Malik and how fatherhood made him grow-up fast

Beth Neil  2 Feb 2020, 0:01  Updated: 2 Feb 2020, 3:06

Back then he didn’t appear to be a natural frontman. He wasn’t one to hog the spotlight, nor did he seem remotely interested in competing with the magnetism of Harry or the vocal range of Zayn.

“There were times I struggled to find my place in the band,” Louis admits today.

But it’s often the quiet ones you’ve got to look out for.

Behind the scenes he was very much centre stage: Louis was the mouthpiece, constantly fighting the boys’ corner and acting as chief negotiator between band and management.

“Being from Doncaster,” he says, “I’ve never had a problem with telling anyone ‘no’.”

On top of this (and perhaps most significantly), in the six years that the band were together after finishing third on The X Factor in 2010, Louis diligently racked up more songwriting credits than any of the others, hinting that a hard-working and ambitious young artist lurked beneath the surface.

Indeed, while he might be the last of the band to release a solo album (four years after they announced their hiatus, breaking several million hearts in the process), the result suggests that Louis, having held his nerve and bided his time, might just prove to be the dark horse.

“There was a while when I was worried I was getting left behind – some of the boys are on to their second album now,” he says, taking a draw onthe first of several cigarettes. “At times, I’ve been swimming against the tide, working out who I am. I was trying to find a way back into the industry, thinking of it mathematically rather than going off feeling and emotion.”

He’s referring to collaborations with Bebe Rexha and Steve Aoki in 2016 and 2017 respectively, which, although successful, weren’t where his heart lay. With Kill My Mind – the exhilarating ’90s-inspired opening track of the album Walls – he sets his stall out with a clear departure from anything he’s done before.

Walls is about regret, reflection and ultimately, hope, and feels like Louis, who sings in his still-broad Doncaster accent, has finally found his voice.

“I’ve always wanted to be autobiographical and honest. And in the last six months the songs I’ve written and recorded are of a better standard because there’s an honesty there,” he says.

Honesty certainly characterises the album, sometimes devastatingly so. There’s no escaping the fact that Louis, 28, has faced unimaginable pain over the last few years.

First losing his mum Johannah Deakin, known as Jay, in December 2016 to leukaemia, and then his sister Félicité, who died last year aged 18 following an accidental drug overdose.

The lyrics to Two Of Us, written about his mum, include intimate details about Louis’ experience with grief.

“It wasn’t until after I’d written it that I realised how much vulnerability I’d put in there,” he says. “When I first performed it… I had fans coming up to me in tears telling me their stories, and that’s not something I’ve ever had before. And to do it on that level about something so delicate… It was really cool to take something so dark and make people feel like that.

“I had to get a song like that off my chest. It was difficult writing about things that felt trivial compared to what was going on in my life. There was, I think, a necessity to write that song before I could move on creatively.”

Understandably, Louis won’t talk specifically about Félicité. But when asked about how grief has shaped him both as a man and an artist, he pays tribute to Jay.

“I think it’s a credit to how my mum brought me up that I have a resilience,” he says. “There’s nothing I want less than to have people feel sorry for me, so having that mentality has helped me through the hardest of times.

"I’ve also felt a real support system through my fans. I’d always felt it on a lower level, but when it’s something so impactful and life-defining, I really did feel it from them.”

Days after Jay’s death, Louis appeared live on The X Factor to perform Just Hold On with Aoki.

He was clearly in pieces and it was hard enough just watching, but somehow he held it together, presumably thanks again to that resilience.

“Sometimes it’s fight or flight,” Louis explains. “And the way I was brought up and because of where I’m from, I only see one option in that situation. I also wanted to put myself second and do it for my mum.

"That moment was bigger than me and it was actually incredibly liberating. It used every bit of strength and power and I look back on that performance as one of the proudest moments of my career.”

He says he tends not to suppress emotion and is able to share his darkest points with those he’s closest to.

But as the eldest of Jay’s seven children (five girls and two boys), he also feels a huge weight of responsibility towards his younger siblings and hasn’t had any professional therapy himself.

“No, no, nothing like that. That might be down to a bit of Northern pride, but I have a lot of responsibility on my shoulders and that drives me. I’ve got siblings who look up to me and I’ve got my grandparents as well. So all those things keep my head screwed on.

“My mum had a massive influence on me and I lived with a lot of sisters in the house, so I do find it easier to speak about my emotions. But I’m also from Doncaster, where to be a guy is to be tough and traditional and I feel like [there are] times where pride kicks in and I just say I’m all right.

"I’m lucky that I’ve got good people around me who I can trust and who I can be completely vulnerable with and say how I feel. Nine times out of 10, I don’t bottle things up. I wear my heart on my sleeve.”

[below the cut is the rest of the unedited article - including Eleanor, Freddie, 1D]

His model, blogger and politics graduate girlfriend Eleanor Calder, 27, who Louis first got together with back in 2010 during the last week of The X Factor (“before it got manic”) has been a crucial part of the stability he’s needed through such sadness.

“She’s been amazing. With any monumental time in your life you need people who understand and love you. She makes my life easier.”

In 2015 they split up for nearly two years during which time Louis became a dad to Freddie, now four, following a brief fling with LA stylist Briana Jungwirth.

The track Too Young is almost an apology to Eleanor for that period (“I’m sorry I hurt you, darling… I cut you off cos I didn’t know no better”), but Louis says the time apart taught him some tough lessons and has made them stronger.

“I think we both agree that we needed [that break]. I was too immature for a relationship of that seriousness. But I had to learn that and be an idiot first.

“A lot of young men won’t understand until they have hindsight. The responsibility of meeting someone you could spend the rest of your life with at 18 is too much for most immature men. I was very immature at that → age and didn’t understand the feelings or importance.”

He and Eleanor guard their privacy ferociously and very deliberately haven’t made themselves a public couple. They don’t go to places where they’ll get papped or post pictures of each other on social media.

“Me and Eleanor have been together ages and I don’t have a lot of private photos for myself,” he says. “Even on a night out there’ll be some f**ker taking my picture and it goes everywhere.

"So those moments to ourselves are special. It’s the same way I look at Freddie. Do I wanna show him off and tell the world how amazing he is? Yes, of course I do! But I know he’s amazing and he knows that and that’s what matters.”

He dotes on Freddie (“I cherish my time with my boy”) but admits the unplanned pregnancy was a wake-up call.

“Yeah, it was unexpected and I had to grow up very quickly. It was another one of them moments – being faced with the reality of a situation and having to step up. It was a very maturing time in my life.

“And, again, I’ve kind of got between two headspaces. I’m the responsible dad and brother some days and other days I’m still the reckless idiot chav I used to be. I’m still trying to work out a happy medium.”

Absolutely no one could have predicted the global phenomenon that 1D became, least of all Louis, Liam, Zayn, Niall and Harry themselves.

They sold 20 million albums worldwide, earning over £40million each, but the pressures of fame were, at times, intolerable. Louis says they were only able to keep their heads screwed on because they had each other.

“You can never be prepared for that. It was such a head f**k. But we grounded each other so the minute one of us acted like a d**khead one of the others would say: ‘Stop being a d**khead’. I see people in this job surrounding themselves with superiority and they lose the concept of the real world.”

He remembers doing a shoot with the band for Pepsi over in the States with American footballer Drew Brees.

“This guy was like a god and we were insignificant when he was around, which we understood. But I’ve never seen anything like it. Every sentence that came out of his mouth he’d have an audience of hangers-on in hysterics.

"These people were so far up his arse and he didn’t have one good joke. He had no banter! I still hang around with my boys from Doncaster and I hear real stories all the time, which helps me understand the world that unfortunately I don’t get to see. Having empathy with people and a connection with the world is imperative for any songwriter.”

Harry Styles recently said that he never touched drugs during his time in the band (although he’s made up for that since), because he didn’t want to “mess it up”. Louis smiles as he confides that he can’t say the same.

“All I’ll say is that I did my fair share and enjoyed my time in the band. It’s right what Harry said and it was smart of him, but I definitely had a lot of fun in the band. I was always aware of how amazing the opportunity was, but also enjoying the moment for what it was. I lived like anyone else my age – the difference was that I was in One Direction.”

He’s in touch with Harry, Niall and Liam “sporadically” (we’ll come to Zayn shortly), but they’re all on very different paths for now.

“If we all went to a pub tomorrow it’d be like we’d never left. The enormity of what happened in One Direction creates a massive bond and we’ll always have that.

"There have been times when we’ve done each other’s heads in. There might be something I say in an interview that bugs Liam or vice versa, but we all know what each other is like and we can call each other up and say sorry for being a d**k. We’re like brothers.”

But that’s not necessarily the case with Zayn, who quit in 2015 and with whom Louis has had a turbulent relationship since. He was hurt when Zayn was the only one not to turn up at the X Factor studio to support him through his performance after Jay’s death, despite promising to be there.

Then there’s Zayn’s apparent repeated digs. In one interview he branded 1D’s music “generic as f**k”. There’s a difference between making a break from the past and dismissing it completely, and it’s a line Zayn perhaps hasn’t always managed to walk.

“Hmm,” agrees Louis, cautiously. “Other than maybe Niall, there is no one who is prouder of the band and the songs we created than me. But while what I did with One Direction is relevant, it doesn’t define who I am and I don’t struggle to make that dissociation.”

Does he think some of what Zayn has said has been disrespectful?

“Yeah, I do. But I can understand it. We have a lot of situations where we’re sat in interviews and if you’re in a certain mood you might run your mouth. The older you get the more you can tell if these things actually carry any malice or if they’re just a prod in the back. That’s life, innit? Sometimes people chat s**t and that’s the reality.”

He’s not ruling out resolving their differences in the future, but there’s no olive branch on the horizon.

“No, but I’ve not actively tried. We’ve all got a lot on our plates and there might be a day where I wake up and think: ‘OK, I want to right that wrong’, but not yet.”

After being in his company for a while, it’s not hard to see why Louis was 1D’s driving force backstage. He’s thoughtful, articulate, open and self-aware, but there’s a steeliness to him and the requisite pop-star swagger, which doesn’t seem to spill over into arrogance.

He’s based in LA these days, to stay close to Freddie, but “Donny” will always be home. He says comparing the two places is “literally chalk and cheese” and it’s taken him time to “come round” to living in the States.

“It’s taken a while to get used to spending so much time there. I feel like I’m very British at heart.”

And that is reflected in his music, which is heavily influenced by the Arctic Monkeys, The Smiths and Oasis. In fact, the title track and latest single Walls sounds so similar to Oasis B-side and fans’ favourite Acquiesce that Louis’ manager flagged it as a potential issue.

“These kinds of things happen. There are only so many melodies you can write and if you listen to a band all the time like I do with Oasis…”

Anyway, says Louis. He had to make a choice.

“I was ready to risk it, but everyone said we should get in touch with Noel [Gallagher] so we did. Often the industry, and especially Noel’s world, can be a bit snobby and say: ‘F**k you you’re not using this song’. But he was really cool about it, signed it off no problem and although I’m sure he’s not happy about this, I f**king am, I’ve got a writing credit from Noel Gallagher on my album. That is some sick s**t so I’m buzzing.”

Is he nervous about going it alone? “I think I’ve got a good record so I’m confident. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t little bit nervous – there’s three and half years work gone into it so there’s a level of anticipation.”

The most overwhelming emotion though, is relief.

“Because it’s taken such a long time. I’m excited to go on to the next phase of my career.”

Louis Tomlinson’s new album Walls is out now.

[all-things-fic]

Oh man, I love how I can update this 3 years on

[theuniversitychallengereview]

UC 49.25 - Manchester vs Trinity, Cambridge

The fact that this blog is going to be written entirely in character as the narrator of the novel Ducks, Newburyport, the fact that you’re probably going to have to look that up if you don’t know what it is otherwise you’ll have no idea whats going on, the fact that Manchester and Trinity have seven UC titles between them, the fact that there’s no reason for me doing this other than the fact that I’m reading that book at the moment and its constantly running through my mind, the fact that here’s your first starter for ten, Starter for Ten, James McAvoy, Benedict Cumberbatch, cabbage patch, the fact that Manchester are mascotted by a bee and Trinity are mascotted by some sort of homeknitted Sooty, the fact that I’ve already said here’s your first starter for ten so I should probably start, the fact that Webber wins the first points for Trinity with ‘Capital’, following a list of clues, though I’m not sure which one he got it on, the fact that I never am when there are lists of clues for questions, but I suppose its probably often some combination that sets off a light in the contestants heads, Eureka! Topeka, Toto, lions, the fact that the first set of bonuses are on scientists, Dorothy Hodgkins, the fact that I remember hearing her name in lectures but can never remember what exactly she did, the fact that the first bonus question asked for a specific vitamin, the fact that when a question on University Challenge asks for a specific vitamin its nearly always B12, K12, the fact that no one really knows any other specific vitamin, so its pretty obvious the answers going to be B12, the fact that Rogers negs the next starter, but can’t even guess, even though he knows the answer will be a city, the fact that thats a bit mean of me to say, isn’t it, the fact that its probably really hard to think of something in that situation, the fact that Trinity can’t get it either so Manchester get a reprieve, the fact that Moscow was known as the third Rome, the fact that I’d never heard of the third Rome, let alone heard of it being Moscow, the fact that Crawford buzzes in very quickly when she hears the words ‘potato-eaters’, Vincent Van Gogh, Goch, Go, Goff, the fact that the next bonuses were on EU treaties in the week that Brexit finally happened, the fact that there’s no way they could have known this to schedule it like that, the fact that they’d have had to know ahead of time that Brexit would be postponed in March, October, December, the fact that they couldn’t have known that, the fact that it must have just been pure chance, the fact that Crawford wants Webber to guess a five letter word for a question that asks for a four letter word, the fact that he doesn’t, the fact that what if his spelling had been wrong, the fact that I am 100% sure the answer for the PIcture starter is Bavaria, but its also a guess, the fact that Webber says ‘educatory guess’ not ‘educated guess’, the fact that is that also right?, the fact that Manchester finally get a question right, the fact that they’re already 75 points behind at this point, the fact that Hughes gets the next starter to put a stop to their comeback, the fact that Hughes really does get a lot of starter questions, the fact that Trinity don’t get the author of ‘The Children’s Book’, but I know its AS Byatt, because I have a copy of it in my flat which my grandma gave me but which I’ve not read because it looks unspeakably boring, the fact that I’d probably never have heard of AS Byatt if I didn’t have the book, the fact that there’s loads of authors I’d never have heard of if I didn’t have their books, the fact that most of the time I need to have read about a book to know things about it, but I know stuff about films that I’ve never seen, apparently by osmosis, the fact that I should read more, the fact that I’m trying, but Ducks, Newburyport is just so damn big, the fact that its still really good though, the fact that I’d recommend it to anyone, the fact that this homage probably isn’t painting it in a good light, the fact that I assure you Lucy Ellmann does a better job of this than I do, the fact that Webber also gets a lot of starter questions, the fact that Trinity don’t know a lot about astronomy, astrology, solar flares, sun spots, Griffiths observatory, Palomar observatory, Jodrell Bank, the South Bank, London Bridge, Tower Bridge, the Clifton Suspension Bridge, Glenfinnan Viaduct, Hogwarts Express, the fact that the next question is about trigonometry, the fact that I’d have known that when I was studying trigonometry but its a bit of a pointless question to have here, the fact that Webber gets it anyway, the fact that they get two bonuses on the architect Owen Jones, Chavs, chavs, the fact that that stands for council housed and violent, the fact that its widely regarded that thats actually a backronym, the fact that it apparently derives from the Roman word ‘chavi’, meaning child, the fact that who was using Roman words to coin new terms in the 21st century, the fact  that there are no chavs in Harry Potter, the fact that do you get wizard chavs, the fact that David Bowie is the music starter, the fact that David Bowie was probably a wizard, Ian Dury, the Blockheads, hit me with your rhythm stick, the fact that Trinity don’t recognise Joni Mitchell, the fact that Joni Mitchell is probably the best singer-songwriter ever, the fact that is it just me who thinks that, the fact that Trinity know novels from their opening passages, the fact that I used to know the start of Northern Lights, the fact that I used to know the chapter titles for that too, the Decanter of Tokay, the fact that I also used to have the opening page of Barack Obama’s autobiography memorised, the fact that it was in the bathroom for months, the fact that Paxman says ‘You are on fire tonight!’ after Trinity get the novel questions, the fact that he’s absolutely right, the fact that they are very much on fire, the fact that Manchester haven’t had a look in for ages, the fact that they have a guess on the next starter, but they’re wrong and Crawford picks it up, the fact that Paxman says ‘you can give the scientific or the common name’ for a genus of hoofed mammals, the fact that who knows the scientific name for a genus of hoofed mammals but not the common name, the fact that the answer was goat, the fact that is there anyone on earth who knows the word ‘capra’ but doesn’t know the word ‘goat’, the fact that they just put that in the question to make the show seem more intellectual don’t they, the fact that I hadn’t noticed that before, the fact that they quite often say ‘give the scientific or common name’, the fact that are Manchester ever going to get another question, the fact that the third bonus question on adaptations is ‘the Turn of the Screw’ and I swear I’d been thinking of the Turn of the Screw for the first one even though it had no link to it, the fact that thats just a total coincidence isn’t it, the fact that Manchester have finally got another one, the fact that hopefully they can get up above fifty points, the fact that anything below fifty points seems like a truly dreadful effort, but if you can get just above that it seems almost respectable, the fact that Green gets the next one too, two in a row, hattrick, connect four, the fact that they get all of the picture bonuses too, the fact that this puts them over fifty, the fact that Green gets a hattrick with an excellent early buzz of ‘aubergine’, the fact that Paxman says ‘good buzz’ and it was, the fact that where was this form earlier, the fact that if this had come in a bit earlier then they might have stood a chance, the fact that Green goes for four in a row on the next starter, but gets it wrong, the fact that Hughes gets the next one, the fact that he’d been quiet for a while but you can never count him out, the fact that Booth gets his first of the night, the fact that Manchester nearly have a hundred now, the fact that that really would have been respectable, Jurassic, Cretaceous, Mesozoic, Triassic, the fact that in Trinity’s last episode Hughes guessed Palmerston for a Prime Minister question and if he’d guessed that again they’d have been right again, the fact that Trinity are running away with it again, the fact that they have already got the highest score of the series so far, the fact that will they hit three hundred, the fact that they only need ten more points, the fact that Hughes buzzes in with ‘martlet’ and they’ve got it, the fact that it was his seventh starter of the match, the fact that Trinity scored three hundred, the fact that Manchester scored ninety five, the fact that its the highest combined score we’ve had in two years, the fact that Trinity still have to win another match to reach the semi finals, the fact that Manchester aren’t kncked out yet either, the fact that I don’t know who’s playing next week, the fact that every time I pick up Ducks, Newburyport I think ‘how did she write this’ and having done this now I am even more amazed, the fact that this goes into nowhere near the amount of detail she goes into, but I have no clue how she manages it, the fact that it must have been a pain to edit, the fact that if I really wanted to copy the style I’d have had to put a huge list in at some point, but that might have been too annoying for this blog, the fact that I might go back and add a list anyway, the fact that I don’t know how she ends the book so I might just have to end it here because I don’t know how I’ll get out otherwise

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Hi. This is not for trolling. I like your posts and way of thinking. But I just can't understand stg. From what you wrote, I think you are a real feminist and am so happy to see that. What do you think about how Louis acted at ash London stiuation? How he acted was unforgivable to me and that's why I never believe his nice guy cool chav image. How he supported his fans to lynch her was disgusting to me. Correct me if I m wrong pls, you seem to adore Louis and find wrong in everything Harry does

Ash London ask part 2. I just can't understand as a feminist how you think Louis is flawless but your everypost about Harry is constantly critical. I don't think Harry is an angel but so is Louis. Louis is n t political, he has almost no woman at his team, he encouraged his fans bullying a woman but here you are criticizing the term wandering hands which is a big reach on your part. Hope you don't get mad, I m honestly just wanting to understand.

*********

This is a super tedious ask that shows no actual curiosity or willing to engage with the world outside of fandom understandings of Louis and Harry (the fact that you’re OK using the word ‘lynching’ as if it doesn’t have any context is the biggest sign of that).

Almost everything here is based on false premises - I don’t think Louis is flawless - and the idea that I do shows a real lack of engagement in what I’ve said. If you want to know what I think of Louis’ Ash London tweet it’s easy enough to find out (I’ve written enough about how awful I thought it was - and explicitly defending Ash London from criticism).

But my real problem is that it’s fucking absurd to come to someone’s discussion of their own reaction to Harry’s lyrics and say ‘what about this tweet Louis sent two and half years ago?’ It’s totally irrelevant.  I can dislike Harry’s lyrics and also Louis’ tweet.

And finally the absolute lack of seriousness with which you take issues of consent really bother me. I have spent my entire life learning exactly what people mean with euphamistic remarks like ‘wandering hands’ in order to keep myself and other women safe. 

If you want to do fandom as a game, where the only thing that matters is other 1D members - then do it on your own time and in your own space.  I’m not interested in that set of assumptions and the way it apparently involves dismissing the rest of the world.

[twelvedaysinaugust]

How do we know Louis wants proper press? I assume by proper press you mean RS, Billboard, etc.//

Umm bcuz this model right now is no way sustainable. 4 million Spotify listeners, 4 million YouTube subscribes have remained pretty much the same in last two years. Like absolute zero growth. Same with his social media. Just shows he has a good core superfanbase who are the same ppl streaming songs again n again. Buying tickets again and again. But that's not how you do music? Like they can leave you any time. Especially predominantly teenage fanbase. They grow up life happens, tastes change, priorities change .

You always need GP/ casual fans in addition to your core fanbase. If he stays in the 1D bubble of fans only he is always going to compete with Harry? Like no way he is winning that game.

Needless to say he wants to make indie music. He has a fanbase who is not interested in indie. So don't you find weird he is not going out and promoting to those category of potential fans? Lad football loving typical chav image, infact might be easy to get those new fans right?

I remember his tweet saying how he loved liam Gallagher's crowd where all kinds of age groups, girls boys alike were enjoying it. I honestly think that is his goal. 1 D fanbase with all kinds of ppl.

All 1D boys want proper press. They know they have got to live up to the reputation. None of them want to be forgotten into obscurity and know as the flop one from 1D.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I just don’t see much of an effort to appeal to casual fans or the GP. And I don’t know why.

[alarrytale]

"He must feel less guilty now that he's complying and hiding his natural way of being, but i feel like it's making him more miserable and he's relying on bad coping mechanisms to deal with it.

Since we still see glimpses of flamboyancy and relaxed body language when he's surrounded by fans i don't think he's ashamed of it. It must take a lot of effort still to control and contain his natural mannerisms. The hardest part would be gaining the confidence back and stop being self-concious and self-policing."

Oh this makes me wonder why Harry doesn´t help him with this? Few days ago you wrote how much progress he´s made from his 1st tour to now, how he gained confidence like he´s not ashamed of dancing, mocking fans, act flamboyant and just be a total showman. So why not help your partner to be more relaxed and yourself on stage when you made a progress yourself? I mean I totally love Louis off stage when talking to fans because he´s just one tiny soft happy puppy and it would definitely help him to work on this on stage as well. He´s surrounded mostly by larries, by fans who don´t buy his artificial image and all his stunts and are there for his true self and love him for that. Just wonder if they talk about this and if Harry can see it and wants to help him. But maybe I romantize them and their relationship too much, idk.

Hi, anon!

I think Harry does what he can to help Louis. But their images and playing field are vastly different. Harry knows his flamboyancy will be celebrated and it fits with the image H is going for. It makes him interesting and as long as people don't actually think he's gay, he's allowed and encouraged to toe the line. H's image is way closer to who he really is as a person. I don't think H is repressing himself. Maybe a bit, but not like Louis is. H getting positive feedback to who he is, is giving him confidence.

With L it's the opposite. He's putting on an act, a persona, that's pretty far from who he is. It's reductive. He's struggling to fit into the chav/indie/britpop image and attract that target group. He must feel like people don't love him when he's himself (been told that from tptb since 1D) and the gp and fandom isn't responding as intended to his new image. That must be hard on his confidence. He needs constant validation, which he gets from his fans and comments on at his shows. Still, he knows we don’t buy his lies and he's trying to be someone he's not. Facing an audience of fans who know you fake it must be hard.

Harry loves him regardless, but he sees Louis in private when he can be totally himself. He also knows that Louis can't be himself in public without risking eyes on their sexualities and relationship (and then threatening their careers). So i think H does what he can, encourages him, compliments him and supports him in the ways he can. He did that during 1D too when they shared a stage, but we know that Louis took years to build his confidence on stage back up (after being told he wasn't good enough), and 1D ended when he finally was feeling more confident. That's also when he was saddled with bg. So i think there isn't much H can do that he isn't already doing unfortunatly.

[kingsmanstories]

Manners Maketh Man

Pairing: Harry Hart x Reader Warnings: none Request: Anon “Can you write a Harry x Reader where they are at a bar after an emotional mission, so they are having some drinks and Harry is getting a bit touchy and drunk, reader tells Harry to stop playfully, he does but some scum is taking it the wrong way and tries to rescue reader and makes awful comments about Harry and his age, to which Harry tries to defend himself, but reader tells him she can handle it, "Manners Maketh Man, do you the meaning of it? How about I teach it to you?" She kicks his ass.”

“The usual?” Harry asked as he headed over to the bartender to order your drinks, you only nodded. The mission you both had today went absolutely shit. Every single thing that could possibly go wrong, ended up going wrong. You didn’t succeed in the mission in the end, and you both just decided to write it off, and have a pint instead of moping about feeling sorry for yourselves.

One pint turned into three or four, and you even got Harry on shots, which you made sure you filmed on Snapchat and sent to both Eggsy and Merlin. Harry was starting to get rather drunk after the second lot of shots, and his hand was brushing your leg playfully, he was such a flirty drunk, which made you laugh.

“Harry, stop, not here.” You laughed, gently pushing his hand away, which then he realised what he was doing and stopped, but still lingered close to you. You must admit, the pub you was in definitely wasn’t the classiest place one Earth. You saw a man starting to approach you both, he looked like one of the chavs that were against Eggsy all those years ago. 

“Oi, mate, can’t you see that the lady doesn’t wan’t a grandpa touching her up?” he sneered at Harry, making your eyes widen and your temper grow. “Come on luv, you’ll be safe with us.” He tried to grab your hand and pull you away, but you snatched your hand away. 

“Um, no thank you.” You said politely, Harry was far too drunk to even try defending himself. Out of nowhere, the man swung his fist at Harry, that he thankfully avoided. “Seriously?” you raised your eyebrows, calmly at the man, who just chucked. 

“Looks like grandad over here still likes the young’uns.” 

The comments were making you absolutely livid. You got up from your barstool, and walked towards the man and his group of friends, and they all walked backwards as you walked towards them. “Manners,” you grabbed your umbrella. “Maketh,” you adjusted your glasses, as you managed to corner them as they stared at you in awe. “Man,” you slammed the end of your umbrella on the floor and leaned on it.

The group of chavs just stood and stared at you, they were totally shitting themselves. “Do you know the meaning of it?” They shook their heads, speechlessly with their mouths gaping. “Let me show you.”

You walked towards the main culprit of the group, swinging your fist into his jaw, kneeing him in the ribs and flooring him in one swift motion as his friends fled the scene, and you returned to Harry with a triumphant smile. His words were slurred drunkenly as he spoke.

“At least there was one successful mission today.”

[daddygraves]

Inktober Day 13. Foolish

Credit to @elletromil  and @zombiisheep for the fic idea.

This fic takes place in an alternate crack universe, (hence the theme, foolish) where Roxy came with Eggsy and Merlin to the Statesman, and Whiskey is the steretypical yeehaw drunk uncle, Tequila the debauchery aficionado and Merlin and Ginger are the platonic besties and mum and dad of all of them. Which I guess makes Champ the grandpa!

Here goes, a full 24hours late! So much for ‘a few hundred words’. @iffy-kanoknit @melisjevisje

•••••••••••••

Eggsy was never into cowboys as a kid.

Like any boy whose dad was a soldier, he'd been starry-eyed over plastic toy guns and figurines of macho, muscled marines. His poor mum had to positively wrestle off his favourite, threadbare camo-print shirt off him each day before bed. And even then, he'd sneak it out of the washing basket and yank it back on when she wasn't looking.

So cowboys weren't very high on his interest list, and naturally, Eggsy never expected to meet one. London was running kind of low on gunslinging, boot wearing Southerners, as it happened. And even when Eggsy pulled off his transformation from rough chav to sleek sav, he thought gentleman spies who saved the world from certain doom and got to kiss princesses were as far as it went.

But as he'd smugly announced to Richmond Valentine, while the megalomanic lay drowning in his own blood, this ain't that kind of movie bruv. Kingsman life was anything but normal, so when HQ got blown sky high by the Golden Circle last month, Eggsy, Merlin, and yesterday, Rox, had ended up becoming quite well acquainted with some cowboys- Statesman, as it turns out, were America's resident breed of spy. All named after alcohol, in typical Yankee fashion.

He's still not that big a fan of cowboys. Especially when said cowboys decide lassoing him and the not-dead object of his unrequited affections together is a perfectly reasonable course of action.

"I'm telling you, Merlin, I'm perfectly fine to be cleared for active duty!" Roxy argues, ponytail swinging wildly as she and the Scottish quartermaster spar yet again over a constant source of argument- her moon-booted leg.

"Lancelot," Merlin returns calmly, not even bothering to look up from his clipboard at Ginger's desk. "Yeh've been out of the infirmary for less than a week, which yeh wouldn't've been in if yeh'd stayed in hospital in London, like the doctor ordered. But no, yeh had to charge onto the first bloody plane t' Kentucky, and caused another stress fracture in yeh leg due t' the cabin pressure."

"Roxy, he's right, honey," Ginger sighs, tapping away at her own computer. She's champing at the bit to start the competition with Merlin- prior to the current argument, there'd been a text ping up on Eggsy's glasses from Roxy. Merlin + Ginger having a hacking competition at 2pm. Let's go?  Any form of distraction while they searched for the Golden Circle was more than welcome- even handlers need time off.

"What was I supposed to do, convalesce in my hospital bed while you go off and hunt down the people that destroyed Kingsman, and killed our colleagues?" the female agent retorts hotly, as both Merlin and Eggsy exclaim "Yes!" frustratedly.  Eggsy loves his best friend, he really does. But he and she both know she's fighting an uphill battle, even if he's the only one willing to admit it.

"What's all this here commotion?" Champ, Statesman's agent-in-chief, moseys into the room, twirling a cigar expertly between his fingers. Two figures follow him in- Agent Whiskey, moustachioed and booted, and Kingsman's own Harry Hart, shaven and suited.

The sight of Harry, living and breathing, walking around unhindered, still knocked the breath from Eggsy's lungs. Too recently, he'd still been wallowing in the swamp-like sludge of unresolved emotions concerning Harry's apparent death. The crushing guilt, the excruciating vice of grief, the sickening self-loathing for his own stupidity, the memory that their last interaction was an argument-

Even now, it made his stomach knot.

"Champ," Roxy acknowledges the silver-haired Southerner briskly. "Please-"

"I wouldn't bother if I were you, darlin," Whiskey drawls, leaning himself against the nearby whitewashed wall. The deep brown eyes beneath the brim of his hat survey the scene unfolding with vague amusement.

"Harry here has just spent the past minute finishin' convincin' Champ here that you ain't going anywhere. Not 'til that here leg," he flicks his eyes to the moon boot strapped over Roxy's grey paintsuit. "Be fully healed up."

But before Roxy can unleash her wrath on Harry, Eggsy chimes in, tearing his eyes from the elder Kingsman finally.

"Harry's right, Rox, s'what I've been tryna tell ya. Ya only just got here, ya not fully healed, all ya gonna do is f-"

"Of course you take his side!" Roxy snaps back at him, indignation and fury clear in her eyes. Oh shit- he should know by now when to pick his battles with her. Hurricane Roxy was not an experience Eggsy enjoyed.

"What's tha supposed to mean?" Eggsy retaliates uncertainly, sneaking a sideways glance at Harry, who is also regarding Roxy with apprehension.

"Oh don't play coy now, boys," Whiskey purrs, raising an eyebrow smugly. Suddenly, the room seems a little too airtight, and far too warm. "You don't think we didn't all see your cute lil' reunion in Harry's room?"

"And can I just say," Agent Tequila, who has so far been silent, sprawled in a chair in the corner, contributes. "Ya'll shoulda see your here face when I pulled up that curtain on Galahad Sr.'s room, when ya first got here." He flicks his chin in Eggsy's direction, before leaning back to fish around in his  jacket pockets for chewing tobacco.

Eggsy and Harry simultaneously erupt into indignant protests.

"What on earth-"

"Oh fuck off, all of ya-"

"Merely happy to see my protege-"

"I just found out he was alive, I fink my response was pretty appropriate-"

"He has a girlfriend-"

Not anymore, he didn't. Eggsy's gut gives a funny twist, but he quickly returns to the issue at hand. But with reflexes faster than the human eye, Whiskey's whip appears in the cowboy's hand. And Eggsy realises a second too late what's about to happen, as he and Harry stand side by side, still spluttering feeble excuses.

It all happens so quickly. The tight cord of the rope yanks the pair of men together instantaneously, so quickly the two bonk heads, and as they teeter on the spot momentarily, a previosuly unseen cupboard door is flicked open by Tequila. Eggsy and Harry only have a second to yowl in protest as a shove sends them toppling into the confines of a dark Statesman broom closet, and the secure click of a lock is heard on the other side.

There's a second of stunned silence. And then the pair of spies begin wriggling and hollering with all their might, bumping against all manner of cleaning items and the door.

"Pipe down in there, ya'll," Champ's voice filters through the light-light crack near the floor, as raucous laughter can be heard. "Merlin and Ginger be about to start the contest."

"Let us the fuck out!" Eggsy roars, as Harry adds peevishly "I second that motion."

"Short answer; no," Whiskey's tone can be heard now, and Eggsy can just picture the fucker inspecting his fingernails casually. "We're all sick to high heaven of ya'll's pining and lovelorn looks. I can't imagine what poor Merlin and Roxy here been having to endure, if we've only had just a taste of it these past few weeks."

The muffled sound of Merlin and Roxy agreeing  with enthusiastic despair only incenses Galahads Jr. and Sr. more.

*******************************************************************************************

There's dead silence in the room, punctuated only by the furious clatter of computer keys being slammed by speedy fingers. Merlin and Ginger are hunchbacks over their keyboards, as the Statesman and Roxy look on nervously.

"How long d'you think it'll take them to give up and just admit it?" Roxy wonders aloud, as muted shouts and thumps still sound against the securely locked door.

"A good while yet, I should think," Champ chuckles, leaning his elbows on the back of Ginger's chair as he squints at the computer screen.

"Don't worry Ginger, ya'll gonna make mincemeat of this Scottish chap."

"Ha," Merlin mutters under his breath, face lit with almost evil glee as he determinedly chips his way through NASA's firewall.

**********************************************************************************************

So no only has Eggsy found himself buddy-buddy with a bunch of cowboys, where his best friend turns up less than a month after an entire mansion fell on her, with nothing but a broken leg to show for it. He finds himself face to face with a very not dead Harry fucking Hart, quite literally, shoved into a very cramped, dark cupboard, where a bottle of cleaning fluid is slowly leaking into his bespoke. Fan-fucking-tastic.

His shoulder's starting to get sore from ramming it against the sturdy, unmoving door. But nothing could compare to the sheer shattering feeling of when he'd found Harry alive, in that white padded room, and no trace of recognition had flitted across the slightly lined face of his former mentor.

Yep. Eggsy's in love with Harry. Of course he fucking is, as if shit couldn't get more complicated. Especially since he has, or used to have,  a fucking girlfriend. But more on that later.

"Eggsy, enough."

"No!" Eggsy shouts at Harry utterly focused on ramming the door down with every ounce of strength he had left in him. He couldn't stay in here with Harry, he couldn't, it was too difficult-

"Eggsy, you are going to hurt yourself." Harry's tone is somehow so much calmer than it had been just moment earlier. "An injury would mean you were off the assignment, which we cannot afford. Please, stop."

Eggsy pauses, considering Harry's words. Giving the door one final whack, having no effect, he leans back against some very uncomfortable shelving. Which is hard to do, considering every movement he makes brings Harry with him, due to the sheer lack of space.

"They'll give it up eventually," Harry reassures him. But the elder spy seems ever so careful not to reveal any particular inclination or otherwise towards Eggsy.

Hmm.

*******************************************************************************************

"Ya'll want some dinner?" Tequila declares to the small gathering some hours later, still huddled around the computers. "This shit is takin' ages, makes a man work up an appetite."

"You've literally done nothing, Tequila," Ginger exclaims, but there's no bite in her words. "Do you want to swap with me and have a crack at finding NASA's correspondence with aliens?"

"Naw, I'm fine," Tequila brushes her off, getting to his feet. "They'd delete all that shit anyways."

"Ya'll want KFC?"

There's a chorus of 'yeah', and the youngest Statesman saunters out.

Champ exhales quietly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "He's got smarts when he's on a mission, but that kid's brains wouldn't amount t' a hill o' beans."

"Funny that," Merlin interjects, completely focused on the task at hand. "Ginger's tech skills amount to about the same."

"Oh I cannot wait to wipe the floor with you, Merlin," the woman shoots back in good humour. "After the files I had to extract from the Pentagon last year, this is a goddamn cakewalk."

*******************************************************************************************

"Merlin." Harry's voice is loud enough within the tight confines of the cupboard that Eggsy is sure the tech whiz would've heard them.

"Not now, 'Arry. I'm busy. Stop texting me with your glasses, I'm tryin' to win a bottle of whisky."

"Merlin," Harry draws out the 'i', sounding almost whiney. "You wouldn't leave your oldest friend locked in a cupboard, would you?"

"I'm sure he would, given the amount of whinging you saddle him with about Eggsy." Whiskey japes.

What?

"Oi," Eggsy cries, straightening and staring Harry down accusingly. The older man has the decency to look slightly guilty, under the limited light the door frame provided. "Why're ya whinging 'bout me for?"

"It's not whinging," Harry protests somewhat feebly, staring at the ground, but Eggsy's right pissed off now.

"If anything, it's me who should be doing the whingin', eh? I'm the one you left behind, to go play the hero here!"

Harry's face changes, and Eggsy can just tell the taller man's hackles are finally up. Good. Let him suffer for a bit too.

"If you'd simply done as I asked, Eggsy, and completed all the tests, as instructed, we wouldn't've had a row. But to suggest I had your father stuffed, inside my house?!-"

Eggsy doesn't give a shit that he's interrupting, and that will only add fuel to Harry's already dangerous tone. "I said tha' shit in anger, bruv! Ya called me back with that cab like a dog on a fuckin' leash. And what 'bout ya sayin' that everything ya did for me was 'bout my dad anyways?"

He's sailing into dangerously emotional territory here, but Eggsy has really lost all his fucks to give. "Didn't I mean anything t' you?"

"You could not be further from the truth."

Harry's icy tone makes Eggsy revert to sulky silence.

"This is utterly fucking ridiculous," Harry sighs a short while later, rubbing his temples with both hands. His elbow nearly catches Eggsy in the face, and the slow sounds of enthusiasm and can be heard outside in the room, cheering Merlin and Ginger on. There's also the smell of fried chicken, wafting deliciously into the cupboard, and Eggsy's stomach lets out a rumble.

"Do you remember our breakfast, the day before your final test?" Harry asks suddenly, looking at Eggsy with interest. All anger has melted from his chestnut eyes.

"'Course I do," Eggsy mumbles, over the growing hubub outside. That morning was one of the few precious memories he had with Harry, and not one he was likely to forget.

"M'so sorry, Harry. 'Bout your house. It's all my fault."

"Nonsense, Eggsy," Harry placates him, even as the younger man protests.

"All ya furniture, Mr Pickle,-"

"Houses and antique furniture, even butterflies," Harry argues patiently, yet determinedly. "Theyre are all replaceable,. Mr Pickle is ingrained firmly into my memory, too. Even if he isn't sitting in my lavatory, he will always be in my heart."

There's silence again, apart from cheering, as both men consider Harry's words. "Now what I truly couldn't bear, would be being locked inside that awful padded room for the rest of my days, with no one to rescue me. As terrible as it sounds, without everything we've lost, you never would have found me again. So in a way, I must be grateful for all these tragedies. Because without them, I may never have remembered."

"The thought of not remembering such a large portion of my life- Kingsman, Melrin, you-" an unconscious shudder wracks Harry, jostling Eggsy in the small space. "It's unimaginable."

"But even if I didn't know you, during my period of amnesia..." Harry's voice trails off, and Eggsy meets his gaze again. "I wanted to."

Was there some hidden message behind Harry's words, that's flying right over Eggsy's head?

Maybe his should just come out with it. His conscience is nudging him every so gently, trying to build a scrap of confidence within him. When was Eggsy ever going to get the chance to tell Harry how he felt, in a private, dark cupboard, ever again?

Harry's arm knocks something, which makes a metallic souding rattle. Fumbling around in the dark corner of the cupboard, he suddenly cautiously brandishes a crowbar, of all things.

"Finally."

But as Harry squeezes his arm past to begin his assault on the cupboard door, something makes Eggsy catch the elder spy's muscular arm in hand.

"Harry, wait!"

The taller of the two freezes, looking to Eggsy questioningly.

"Yes?"

It all just comes out in a fumbling, mad rush, like water out of a spilt jug.

"Look this is really fuckin' awkward an' weird an- oh fuck it, I'm in love wif' ya and I don't know what-"

"What?" Harry's face is a beacon of astonishment. "What on earth?!- Your girlfriend?- you have-"

"No actually, I don't." Eggsy's breathing is shallow, and his palms are shaking, but he clenches them into fists. If he doesn't get this all out and over with now, he never will. He'll never be able to move on if he doesn't shoot straight and sharp, and tell this stupid, oblivious man how arse over tits for him Eggsy is. "We broke up, like we shouldve done months ago. Because she was only ever a distraction, as bad as that sounds, cos' you were dead, an' I was tryin' to get over you-"

Harry immediately tries to interject with urgency, and Eggsy is suddenly glad the chaos outside over the hacking race means no one can hear them.

"No. Shut up, ok, shut up. I'm trying to tell ya how I feel, I've been in love with ya since ya bailed me out of Holborn, if I dont say this now I'll never get the courage to do it again, because ya a tall, gorgeous fucking spy, who's literally sex on legs, I know ya don't love me back, this'll be real awkward once we bust open that door,  but I get it it's all good, I'll leave you be, cos ya in love w me dad or somethin-"

"Don't you dare".

Harry Hart, chest heaving, spits, and shocks Eggsy into silence with nothing but a burning look. Something that vaguely sounds like a squeak leaves Eggsy's chest, and he's abruptly aware of how close they have been, this whole time in the matchbox of a cupboard, chests touching.

"Don't you dare go and leave me again, Gary Eggsy Unwin. Because, if you would ever let me finish, I am not in love with your father."

Eggsy's bewilderment is clearly plastered upon his face, because Harry sighs heavily, and with frustration, ignoring the apparent stadium full of football fans hollering outside. He lays those massive, elegant hands of his on Eggsy's shoulders for emphasis.

"I am hopelessly and utterly in love with you, you gigantic pillock".

Oh my God. This had to be a dream, Eggsy thinks faintly, as this beautiful ray of numbness fills his brain. He was dreaming, he must be, as a slow smile slides across his face.

"Is this the bit where we kiss, then?"

******************************************************************************************

"Go, Merlin, go!" Roxy screeches, hands pressed to her mouth in tights fists of anticipation, as Merlin and Ginger thunder down the home stretch of their race, hands a blur of slamming keys.

"Geddim', Ginger!" Champ howls, Tequila and Whiskey echoing the sentiments of encouragement, as both quartermasters clatter away, slit-eyed and teeth-gritting.

"Yes!" The choppy bob shoves her roller chair away from the desk, arms raised in victory, and is immediately drawn into a jumping circle of victory by her Statesman colleagues, whooping and hooting. Merlin graciously bows his head, Roxy placing a comforting arm on his shoulder, as the two amusedly observe the scene of celebration. Until a lightbulb goes off in the resident Lancelot's head.

"Time to let them out I think," she utters, and in a few short steps, arrives at the cupboard door, and flicks the latch open.

Galahad Jr. and Sr. emerge from the confines of the dark cupboard, with just as much grace as they entered it. But this time, their embrace, which makes both men topple to the floor humiliatingly, seems utterly consensual.

And now it's Roxy and Merlin's turn to join the celebrations, as their best friends pick themselves off the floor, but link hands, smiling a little bashfully.

"You owe me a hundred quid, Ginger!" Merlin announces with relish, reclining in his chair.

"Not 'til I get my bottle of this supposedly amazing scotch whiskey, minus the e, for kicking your ass in hacking."

[ssfoc]

Hello, Sea. Idk why am i writing it. But feel so bad. About my own feelings. I feel like I'm betraying Louis rn. Because i kind of... can't anymore? His updates make me feel so sad and fucking anxious everytime. And i noticed that i stoped being interesting like at all? I'm in nice safe space with Niall and with Harry especially (i can't wait for concert days). And Liam makes me smile. But everything related to Louis makes me fucking cry. And i hate how i can't enjoy being his fan. 1/2

2/2 And its so fucked up, bc he was my fave for so many years. And i know, i just need to take a break and all that. But it makes me mad at myself. Am i weak? Or what? Louis is going through all that mess rn. Not me. All i can do is support him. But i fucking can’t even look at him. Gosh. I hope you would understand me. And i hpe you will understand. Bc for real i have no one to talk about irl. And i’m so stressed about it? Sorry in advance. But wtf is wrong with me?//___________

Hi!

You’re not weak. You’re human. You’re self-aware. In trying to be more conscious about your decisions, you’re being strong.

We all get very sad when we examine things that make our hearts ache, and feel guilty when we want to turn away. That’s normal. We want justice and we want to help those who need help.

But there are a few things about Louis that are so challenging for the fandom.

1. He has helped so many fans come to grips with their own lives. His acts and words of generosity have brought so much comfort and inspiration. We feel like he’s family. We want him to make it. We want justice.

2. He has been through a lot of turmoil in the past two years. Sometimes there’s nothing that will help. That’s hard to face, but sometimes the grief is for Louis to work through alone.

3. His career seems to have been singled out to be so differently promoted and sold to 1D fans, compared to his bandmates. His promo has been ineffective and blunted, and the media associated with Simon (Sun, DM) have pointedly promoted his private life instead of his musical career. This is puzzling, infuriating, and difficult to witness.

4. Louis should understand the points of narrative that are not working for him, yet he does not / cannot act on them. Eleanor, Freddie, the chav image… these signifiers are poorly understood by non-fans, and by the international audience at large. We can’t “read” the take-away message. Harry’s: be kind, be inclusive, be charming. Liam’s: enjoy being young, life is fun, join me. Niall’s: young hearts get broken, mine was once, but I get to have a full, enjoyable life and I want to share it with you. Louis’: I’m an international celebrity / also an underdog and… sometimes I just disappear. Until my girlfriend / other artists/ Syco / a video game/ a beer needs promo. It’s disjointed and meretricious, and feels fake.

5. I do believe that in spite of it all, Louis does want a successful solo launch; he’s working with collaborators who share the same musical tastes and visions, and he has a definite opinion of what his music should be like. That’s an important thing, maybe THE most important - that he has artistic vision, a goal. Good artists want to create, need to create. They WANT to give to their audience. They know their audience is hungry and waiting, and they also have a craving to show their creative output. And I feel that from Louis. Every time he talks, we can sense his longing to put his music out there.

So my advice is, maybe give him time, and give yourself time. Come back when he has something good to show you. I think he will.

In the mean time, much love to you, hugs and kisses and message me any time.

S