#London accents. were just going to keep adding more and more working class accents because it has seemed to have gotten more common since

[cakesandsnouts]

hello yes can you pls tell us more abt jared in the homecoming. pls be as specific as possible and thank 🤲

Oh my goodness ok wow uhm, not sure if you’re happy with spoilers so will will try to avoid them if you haven’t read or seen the play and want to…

So it goes without saying that he was obviously absolutely terrific. (All the actors were) but Jared in particular as the nasty misogynistic yet crumbling force of an overbearing father of a family of men was just *chef kiss* to watch. I don’t know how much you know about The Homecoming or Pinter’s work in general (i hadn’t read the play before seeing it, and decided not to so as to go in blind, but have been reading/watching a lot of Pinter lately so am very familiar with his work) but it’s about an East End family of males, who are severely lacking female presence and influence. Shortly into the play - the eldest brother comes home from America with his wife none of them knew he had. Cue a lot of Pinter-esque chaos (i.e extreme sexual repression, very subtle dialogue alluding to abuse, social dynamics, emotional turmoil etc etc…all the good stuff that Jared is perfect at playing)

So yes, Jared plays Max, the father of the family. I think there were a few people who felt he seemed too young to play him, but I didn’t think so at all. He played the part of a working class East London bloke, so had a very strong East End accent, which was weird to hear at first, but after about two or three lines you just went with it (because he’s so fab) - kinda how you forget he’s being Irish as Francis. It was their opening night in previews so I was expecting some snags, but there were none. He was flawless. The thing about his character is that you kind of hate him yet he’s so endearing and a pleasure to watch. That’s the magic of Pinters characters in general but Jared also does that extremely well.

I was in the second row, and The Young Vic is a fairly low level stage, so the view was perfect and I got a lot of lovely lovely sight lines. He seems a bit shorter in real life (I still can’t really believe he’s 6 foot, I think Google is lying) but all the other actors who played his sons were quite tall so maybe it was just an illusion. He also had a stick in the play so was crouching a lot and not standing straight- so maybe that also added to him seeming a bit more stocky. They played a lot of the more intense action upstage so unfortunately…even though I was hoping for it… I didn’t get spat on by him 😂 There were a lot of lovely moments of him smoking, and because I was so close I got some of the nice cigar aromas when he was smoking downstage (maybe that could count as being spat on!?).

All in all, he was incredible to watch, and I hope he does more stuff on stage in the future. He is truly mesmerising. I think the whole experience was elevated due to the fact that I adored the play and the story, it was directed very well and they kept true to the essence of Pinter, i.e keeping it set in the time period, and holding those pauses and stillness that’s so effective in his text. Jared looked kinda knackered by the end of it (and seemed a bit somber in his bow), but with the ending as it was…it’s not surprising. That kind of action takes a lot out of an actor!

I really hope they film it for people who won’t get a chance to see it on stage, but if you are in London and you get a chance to…I would highly recommend it! Even if you aren’t die hard Jared stans like us 😉

[nerdie-faerie]

Also side note about Eve of the Daleks, I love that there wasn't a single London accent in that episode. Like get the fuck outta here with that, no more London/British accents in 2k22

[newtonsheffield]

Hey, I love your stories so much, you are such a good writer! You're little headcanons are such good world builders as well and I find myself constantly refreshing your tumble just to see if you have posted any new ones :). If you don't mind me asking I was just wondering how Kate deals with the racism that she faces?

Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoy these little snippets though I’m afraid they’ve been fairly scarce these last few days so sorry about that! I have resolved to sit down when I finish work Saturday afternoon and clear out this inbox while I eat my rum and raisin ice cream! 

Okay, this prompt is Super super important and I suppose that I want to make a general disclaimer that I’m a white person and I generally feel that it’s not my place to comment on how people of colour feel. It’s my place to listen when people of colour report incidents and try to recognise the institutional racism still unfortunately inherit in our society. As a white immigrant with no accent, in a largely conservative part of Australia (My Local MP is famous for saying there are no gay people in our area) I have unfortunately been privy to a lot of casual racism about immigrants and when I say “But I’m an immigrant” people brush it off with “Not people like you” and they go absolutely red in the face and can’t make eye contact when I say, out loud, louder even “Oh, so you think we should only let white people in.” The discomfort on their face as they try and back track is truly other wordly. I guess I just want to use this very tiny platform I’ve erected for myself by saying, that black lives matter, brown lives matter, and honestly white people out there thinking they’re the master race when they can’t even handle cayenne pepper. You ain’t shit bro. And i’m always open to educating myself on this topic so if you read these and feel I have something to learn then please let me know. The last thing I’ll say before I give you some actual writing is that, even prior to Simone Ashley’s casting, Kate Sheffield was a woman of colour in this fic. Always has been, always will be, if you don’t like it, the unfollow button is at the top of the page and honestly, I won’t be that sorry to see you go! 

Okay! These are based off things that have happened either in my presence to friends of mine or to my brother in law (who is Chinese Australian but who always gets spoken to a little louder than my sister and I. Even though he was born in Brisbane, and we were not)

Kate wasn’t quite sure when she realised she was treated a little differently than some of the other children in her class but it was certainly there. It could have been the way people’s eyes clouded with confusion when they looked at the name “Sheffield” and eyed her brown skin with confusion. Or when Mary would wait for her outside the school gate, the other parents eyeing her pale skin and the whispers of Oh she’s adopted which Mary always cut off with a sharp no, She’s not. And She doesn’t really know why one boy, Jamie Stevens, keeps asking her where she’s from. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion and she says London? He tuts and says No  but where are you from. And Kate, being only 7 the time says ... Hounslow?   

In later years, Kate tries not to think about the possibility that Edwina is treated slightly differently than herself because, in the right light, Edwina could almost pass for white. She sees the confusion in people’s eyes when Edwina says This is my sister Kate and she knows they’re thinking two things Lord, we know who got all the looks of the family and Why is this one so brown? And she pretends it doesn’t sting, but the casually condescending way they ask if they're fully related turns her stomach

She remembers the day Edwina’s first big print ad came out, they’d been so excited. Kate and Mary had huddled around the kitchen table as Edwina proudly brandished a magazine at them. And Mary and Kate both stopped dead, a look passing between them. Because the woman on the page in front of them, is definitely Edwina, and she looks absolutely heartbreakingly beautiful. But also very very pale. Mary very hesitantly says Eddie, honey, You look awfully pale there. Edwina had frowned, looking down at the page and said, They said they had to do some colour correction in post something about the clothes not looking right Mary had tisked and closed the magazine and said You should be proud of where you come from. The both of you. She said the last part, firmly to Kate, her uncanny knack for recognising Kate’s emotional turmoil coming into play. Because right there on the page is another little thing that chips away at Kate’s self confidence. And it’s the last time Edwina allows colour correction in post

By the time, Kate started dating Anthony, she was very good at ignoring the way people spoke a little more loudly to her, than they did to her white coworkers. But she absolutely hated that one of the first thoughts she had on her way to Violet Bridgerton’s for dinner that first time was  What if she hates that I’m brown? Of course one of the first things Violet says when she wraps Kate tightly in her arms is Goodness you and Anthony will have beautiful children in true Violet fashion, and Kate knows his family honesty could not care in the slightest. But that doesn’t stop other people from murmuring behind their backs.    

[oddshelbyout]

Flowers & Chocolates // John Shelby X Fem!Reader

Summary: On Valentine’s Day, your neighbour John asks you to look after his kids for a few hours and comes back with a gift you had been waiting for.

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2372

Author’s Note:

This is a modern au, my first one for Peaky Blinders. I wasn’t sure if I could write a modern fic for this well but I think this turned out to be pretty good. I had to give John’s kids names and it was really hard to decide, I hope they fit well.

This fic really made me get over my writer’s block. I wrote this in one sit and it just put my mood up so much. It’s really fluffy and exactly what I would want my Valentine’s Day to be like.

I hope you share Valentine’s Day with all of your loved ones and show them you appreciate their love. I also hope that this one shot makes you as happy as it made me while writing it. Enjoy <3

English is not my first language and I’m not always confident about my work so please let me know if I make any mistakes or anything I can fix in my writing.

You can ask to be added to my taglist. You can be tagged to works on a specific character or just any of my works. Please dm me or send your wish to my ask box if you’d like to be added.

Requests are open. You can request any Peaky Blinders related imagines or prompts for me to write. I’m a minor so I don’t take NSFW requests, please keep that in mind.

———————

It was Valentine’s Day. You were single once again and your date for the night was a bottle of cheap red wine.

None of your relationships lasted more than 6 months and you had been spending every Valentine’s Day alone for 3 years. You were convinced the relationship chapter of your life was closed for now.

That morning started like another Sunday morning. You got up, took a shower, made yourself coffee and called it breakfast. You scrolled through Instagram and pretended not to see all the couple posts.

You were actually really glad to be single. You had full freedom, not that a relationship would take it all away but being independant entirely made you feel good. Also all of your past relationships felt one sided and you hadn’t met the right person yet.

This Valentine’s Day was a bit different than the others because you weren’t upset about being single. You were actually upset about not being in a relationship with a specific someone.

That someone was your upstairs neighbour in the small apartment complex you lived in. His name was John and he had four kids. Yes, four kids.

You might ask why that information was so important and the answer is simple. You and John met just because he had kids.

All of the flats besides yours and John’s were rented by university students, that left you as the only choice to babysit John’s kids. You were working independently, you were a graphic artist and you were always at home. That was exactly what John needed.

One summer afternoon, your door knocked. You weren’t expected guests, you barely had them anyway. John stood before you, looked at you with his gentle eyes.

“I have no one, can you watch my kids for an hour?” was the first thing he had said to you. You were also too busy trying to understand who he was and didn’t notice four youngers hiding behind him.

You couldn’t say no. You loved children, you had two younger brothers but they were back in your hometown when you had moved to London. John just left you with the kids and left.

John had two daughters and two sons. Katie, Jocelyn, William and David. Katie was the oldest but definitely wasn’t the most mature one. Jocelyn and William were twins but looked nothing alike though they sounded a lot like each other. David was the youngest and somehow the most mature one.

The oldest was nine and the youngest one was six at the time you met them. They were extremely calm and none of them were troublemakers. They had great interest in your work and asked a lot of questions but also never bothered you.

You loved spending time with them and babysitting them. It has become a routine for you. John would drop them at least a few times a week. It was summer and the kids didn’t go to school. They were with you almost everyday.

You spent so much time with his kids that one day you even joked about getting paid. John had a better offer though. He promised you that he and the kids would make or buy you dinner every weekend to pay you back.

John was a good cook, you had only had take out for one of those dinners once and that was because he was sick. You had become almost like a family.

John was originally from Birmingham, his accent gave it away anyway but he had moved to London with a quick decision after his wife passed away. He had left his brothers and aunt behind in Birmingham but promised them that they’ll be okay.

John had told you that moving to London was the best decision he had taken. It was a new beginning for him and the kids. He was an engineer and London had more opportunities.

Even though you worked from home and didn’t quite reach the goals you had coming to London but it was your best decision too. Best decision after dumping your toxic ex.

Luckily for both you and John, you had formed a great friendship. The kids adored you. John was forever thankful for taking care of them.

That was all going to start changing when schools started and you saw them less and less. You were starting to feel like you didn’t appreciate your time with them enough.

You also realised you had feelings for John. That hurt more when one morning as the kids and him leaving home told you that they were moving. They were going to move out of their flat to a bigger place.

Your heart broke. You knew you’d see them from time to time but you thought it would never be the same warmth you had as neighbours.

That little heartache made Valentine’s Day harder. You could’ve opened your heart out to John and his little family you were introduced to. You had even joined that little family. Shared everything and became so close that you felt like you joined their family

After your coffee and your usual morning Instagram scrolling, you opened your laptop. You had to finish one job before the deadline. Your doorbell rang while you were deep down in work.

You went to the door knowing it was John. You hoped he would be alone. He was not, he had brought the kids again. You were happy to see them but you had one last hope to spend Valentine’s Day with John.

“Sorry Y/N, can you look after them for a few hours?” John said looking at you with puppy eyes. It almost felt like he was apologising for something and it wasn’t for making you look after his children.

“Sure!” you had said, trying to hide the subtle pain in your chest. “I downloaded a new game!” David said, waving his iPad carefully. You smiled You looked back to John, your smile had faded but his was as strong as it was a moment before.

You were hurting because him dropping them off on Valentine's Day meant only one thing. He was going on a date. He didn’t have a partner that you knew of and knew he would tell you if he did. It hurt you so much

“Going on a date?” you asked not being able to hold your curiosity back. “Oh no, just an errand.” John said and you just nodded.

You tried to reply back with a smile but it looked more like you were trying to hide your pain. “Alright, get in kids.” you told the children and John nodded.

“Alright Shelby Clan, I’ll be back in an hour.” John said and that made you genuinely smile. You found it very funny that he called them Shelby Clan. You knew it was the nickname for the whole family but it was still funny hearing him call four kids a clan.

“Bye daddy!” Jocelyn said waving, then they all got in. They ran to the living room which was also your office. “Y/N, are you really working on Valentine’s Day?” Katie asked. You chuckled nervously.

“Well, I’m not dating anyone, so yes.” you admitted and the kids giggled. “What are you laughing at?” you joked and they giggled more. “Would you want to date?” William asked.

“I think I would, if there was a right person.” you said after sitting on your chair. The kids sat on the ground and rested their backs on the side of the couch. David climbed on the couch instead, told you he was more mature.

“Even I am dating someone.” Katie said and Jocelyn gasped. “Who’s the lucky fella?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. All of them kept giggling, ���He’s in my class, he bought me a cookie on friday.” Katie said with a big smile.

Watching them giggle and talk to you enthusiastically made your mood go up. You were actually feeling much better thanks to the Shelby Clan.

You went back to work while they were entertaining themselves with the new game David downloaded. The other siblings joined David on the couch too, lşke they should’ve done earlier.

You weren’t close to finishing the work and you were getting stressed about it. Your back started hurting from sitting. Also your stomach growled, reminding you that coffee doesn’t count as a meal.

“Are y’all hungry?” you asked the kids, hoping they would say yes. “Nope.” they all answered at once but Katie had more to say. “Dad said they’ll be cooking for us when he gets back.” they all nodded to Katie’s work.

“I’m eating on my own then.” you mumbled and stood up. “No Y/N, daddy’s cooking for you too.” William said and you smiled for a moment.

Your mind went full on panic mode. You questioned why he would cook for you after he comes back from a date. Even though he had said it wasn’t a date, your conscience didn’t trust his words.

You sat back at your seat but you didn’t want to keep working. The kids seemed so into that game that you also didn’t want to interrupt their fun. You went back to scrolling through Instagram and accepting your loneliness.

Soon the doorbell came to the rescue. You didn’t notice how much time passed so you didn’t think it would be John. You still believed he was on a date.

You opened the door. Your gaze first focused on John’s big smile, you didn’t even notice what he was holding in his hands.

“I’m back.” he said quietly, he was so quiet that you knew for some reason that he didn’t want kids to hear. That was when your gaze fell down from his lips to his hands.

He was holding a box of chocolate and a bouquet of red roses. You gasped and then smiled so big. “You bought me flowers and chocolates.” you said after licking your lips.

“I thought it was the appropriate time to.” John said, you looked at him not getting exactly what he was trying to say. You were so clueless.

“Appropriate time for what?” you asked and he just laughed. He thought you were joking but you were asking seriously. The fact that the corner of your lips were still curled had tricked him.

“I thought you were smarter.” he joked instead of directly answering your question. “Shut up you wanker, tell me!” you laughed after. “Wanker huh? I’m never telling you.” he replied and laughed so hard that you were sure the kids had heard already.

“Come on John Boy!” you said reaching for his hand. “At least give me the chocolates, I’m hungry!” you complained. He pulled them away from you. You laughed at each other, you felt like you were a teenager again.

“No seriously tell me, appropriate time for what?” you asked again, this time with a more serious face. He took a deep breath. He held onto the flowers and chocolates stronger.

“I think this is the appropriate time to ask you out.” John said and you nervously chuckled. You were so happy to hear that your feelings were mutual. You were also angry at yourself for not believing him when he said he had a date.

You two just smiled at each other like idiots without saying anything. At that moment nothing was real, you felt like you were floating in space and your only connection to earth was John.

“You’re asking me out?” you asked just to be sure. “Mhmm.” John nodded, “Y/N Y/L/N would you like to go out with me?” he properly asked. You giggled like a little girl.

“Yes, I will.” you said and hugged him. The corners of the chocolate box hurt you but it was worth it. Your hug was interrupted by Katie.

“Did you ask her out Daddy?” the ten year old asked, he nodded. “He did and now I’m hoping he’s gonna cook us dinner.” you told Katie, you really were hungry like a wolf.

John stepped inside with you. He left the flowers and chocolates on the kitchen counter. He immediately started cooking, you of course were going to help him.

“I hope you’re moving too far away, like the other side of London.” you confessed, that was a concern for you even before his interest in you was official.

“No, just a block away so the kids don’t have to change schools.” John said as he was cutting tomatoes. “A bigger place?” you asked, you were trying to get your own mind to justify the reason they’re moving for.

“Yes and you’re always welcome, nothing changes.” John said, he turned to you and smiled big. You returned his smile with a bigger one. Your eyes stuck at his lips, they looked so full and red. So kissable.

“Nothing changes.” you repeated and took a deep breath. He stopped cutting the tomatoes. He licked his lips, “Maybe some things can change.” he said and kissed you.

What a kiss it was. You weren’t in the children’s sight. It was the best kiss you ever had. With his lips touching yours and his tongue slipping into your mouth, both of you lost contact to earth. You were both floating in space, you didn’t even need air. As long as you had each other, you didn’t even have to have contact to earth.

You kissed for so long. You kissed like it was your last moment alive. You kissed with so much passion and you thought the heartache waiting for him gave you was totally worth it. When you finally parted, the only reason was that you were out of breath and you had a meal to cook.

Your Valentine’s Day was the exact opposite of what you expected. Even though you wouldn’t call what you and John had a relationship yet, you still weren’t alone on Valentine’s Day.

You had John with you who finally told you he wanted to date you. You had Katie, Jocelyn, William and David. You had your little new family. Now you were sure that you had joined their family for real. You hoped you all would be happy for the rest of your lives.

[ramp-it-up]

Fresh Squeeze, Ch. 5

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall

Set in 2023, post-pandemic

Warnings: Cursing, Angsty Angst, drug and alcohol use, surprise flights, Anthony Ramos. Lots of Plot.

Word Count: 3.5 K

Plot: Linden Marshall just finished law school at Columbia University in NYC. Daveed Diggs is still creating magic with his platonic life partner Rafael Casal in the form of their Blindspotting musical, Bay Boys. Linden’s boyfriend WAS Mark Monaco, star of the superhero movie series Invincible.  They were together for years, and her trauma and his addictions were toxic. She knows now that wasn’t love. 

A/N: Keep in mind that this the same AU as Arrivals, with Holly Woods, but is BEFORE Rafa and Holly get together. And don’t come for me about Anthony.

Read the Previous Chapter.

===================

NYC, May 2023

Jasmine was blowing up your phone as you were trying to get dressed.  You had to search for it under the pile of clothes on your bed.

You had procrastinated getting ready, trying to finish one of your applications for a summer internship at this law firm in Harlem that you were excited about.  

You wanted to finally relax after finishing Columbia law in the top 10% of your class. You just wanted to relax and enjoy this weekend.

Craig, your mom and your uncle were the only ones to attend your graduation.  They knew you didn’t want any fanfare, so your famous friends didn’t attend, and they had a show to do, but they’d sent you tons of well wishes.

We're coming up, get decent!

You chuckled and shook your head. Anthony usually raided the refrigerator when he came over. This time, you told him to bring his own snacks..

You slipped on what you were wearing for the night.  Craig was in his room getting ready and you had volunteered his place, so you were playing hostess. You were surprised that he was so chill about it, actually. 

“Pika Pika,” you said to yourself in the mirror then ran to answer the doorbell. It was almost 6 pm.

You opened the door for Cookie Monster and Big Bird.  You burst out laughing. But you stopped when you saw Anthony's face. He had like five bags from Whole Foods that he was juggling in his blue arms.

"Jazzy!!!! There's my girl.  Hey Ant! leave the food and your girl. We may run off together."

Anthony came in the door loaded down with bags and kissed you on the cheek.  

“I love you Lindy, but fuck you man.” You punched him on the shoulder. 

“Ow! Time to get this party started!”

Linden heard Jazzy’s Brooklyn accent turn into a London lilt as she started play fighting with Ant. They felt like family at this point.

=================

Ever since the launch party in January, Jasmine had pursued you as a friend persistently. You normally didn’t let anyone in because of the circumstances of your life, but Jas was oblivious to your awkwardness with normal human beings.

“Girl, you are fucking DOPE, and you are NOT gonna deny my love.  I know your life has been a trip, and you don’t have to tell me all of it, but I’m not gonna let you shrivel up and be a little retiring wallflower. Life is to be lived.” 

Jasmine telling you that during a Saturday brunch date in February was the key to your heart. She drew you out, and you didn’t see what value you added to her life.

But she loved you anyway. And you loved her, and of course, Anthony was part of the package.  

He was beautiful, loud, talented, and reckless, but he reminded you too fucking much of Dell to be annoyed with him very long.

Your circle had certainly widened from just Craig. That was one thing for which you could thank Mark. You were working on him being a distant memory.  He hadn’t lasted too long in Bay Boys, quitting soon after the musical opened in March.  

Daveed’s hands and feet had ‘slipped’ one too many times during the scene when he was stomping his ass on stage. Mark cited health reasons, and publicly spiraled a bit. He was currently in rehab. 

Again. 

You had not heard from him and that was absolutely fine with you.

Because Jasmine was in Bay Boys and that was her life, the cast and crew became yours as well. Rafael was the type of chaotic creative genius that fascinated you; you could listen to him talk for hours.  

Things with Daveed were more tricky. Ever since that awkwardness with him after the launch party, you’d kept your distance, but you hung out a lot, so you were trying to be friends.

When you and Jas and Ant and Rafa hung out and talked, Daveed was there, smiling shyly and sneaking glances at you, throwing in pearls of wisdom every so often. 

He was so dope and so talented and intelligent and so freaking hot, but you were trying to get yourself together.  You were convinced that night in January had been a mistake. 

You needed some space. And time.  Law school was no joke, and you were in therapy so entanglements was not what was up.

Daveed sensed your hesitancy and decided to stop pursuing you. But he couldn’t stop how he felt.

You were both a little wasted and keyed up the night of the launch party, and despite the way you were beautiful and intelligent and sexy as fucking hell, he was not going to press you. 

Daveed was sure that you two could be something special if you would give it a chance, but he didn’t want to chase you, but he was so gone for you, that if you just nodded your head at him, he would be at your feet.

The attraction was undeniable. There was a crazy little dance you two did that everyone recognized and respected.  This group seemed to know you were fragile, and that you didn’t need to be pushed too far.

But the more they persisted, the more you came out of your shell.  The more you trusted, the more the old Lindy came back. 

Craig noticed first soon after you started hanging with the crew when you were trying to find a place to live. He went to one showing with you and sat you down for a talk.

“Girl, I love the light in your eyes.  I haven’t seen this Lindy since…well in a long time. Stay with me for as long as you want. I know you need to get through this last semester of school, you don’t need one more thing to think about. I’m proud of the work that you’re doing on yourself, Linden.”

You were grateful to Craig.  His place on the Upper West Side was super convenient to Columbia, and not having to think about finding a place was so clutch.  Third year was kicking your ass.

“Besides, I wouldn’t have this place if it wasn’t for…”

“Hush,  I don’t want to hear that.  Dell would have wanted this. I love you cuzzo.” 

=================

Craig came out in a Sully onesie and immediately dragged Jasmine into a conversation about the Met Gala that had happened a few days ago. 

You approached the kitchen where Ant stood, food all around him on the counter. You were whispering. He smiled a secret smile at you.

“I’m so proud of you doing this for Jasmine.  It’s good for you all to get away. I’m glad that she got a little break. She deserves it all.”

Anthony had arranged for this little get together to be a surprise for Jasmine. This was going to be a kickback weekend.

The show was on a four day hiatus while the set was moved to a bigger theatre.  It was a hit and was destined for a long run.

Ant’s green eyes lit up as you kept talking about Jasmine.

“Yeah, she does. And the woman of the hour deserves all the happiness in the world.” He lifted his beer to you.

They way he said that was weird and you were about to ask him what was up with that when the doorbell started ringing, you went to answer it and were stuck there for a few minutes as people started coming in. 

The food and the drinks were flowing while all kinds of characters came in. 

Now they also had Jack Skellingtom, and a Care Bear in the house to add to Big bird, Cookie Monster, Pikachu and Sully. It was an odd cast of characters who were jamming to 90's rap, eating chicken wings and basically tripping like only friends could do.

Then there was Toni, some tag-along chick who showed up with Rafa.  She had on a plain gray onesie.  What a downer.  

You’d  pegged her for  a star fucker who only hung with Rafa because of who he and his friends were.  The girl was too much in everyone's business. 

"Sooooo. You and Mark ARE broken up for real for real. The tabloids say y’all are back together!  I told my friend Susie you weren’t, but she wouldn't believe me."

You  just smiled and didn't confirm or deny, treating Toni like the paparazzi. The girl was oblivious to your hate and just kept talking.

Daveed rescued you. 

"Hey, Toni, show these folks how you can blow. They're setting up the karaoke machine over there. Show us what you're working with. Someone might hook you up with a gig."

Toni perked up and hurried over to Anthony and Craig, who were setting up the lyrics on the big screen to match the karaoke music. Some Bad Boy joints were up.

Rafa was behind them screaming, "Dylan, Dylan, Dylan!" 

They were a scene.  You  breathed and relaxed a little.

"Don't stress. She's not coming with us  to the island."

You looked up at the tall, fine Grumpy Care Bear who was nursing some of your special 18-year-old Chivas Regal that you had gotten for graduation. His beautiful smile shined out of his brown face and beneath the curls tumbling out of his hood. 

“I’m not pressed. I’m chilling. You can do what you want. With who you want.”

“She’s not with me. Rafa brought her for the ride to the airport. And it’s not entirely true that I can do what I want. With who I want. Because what if who I want to do doesn’t want to do me?”

You knew what he meant. But you eyed his drink instead of looking at him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him. That was far from the truth. You didn’t want to get lost in him. And you could see that happening.

Daveed saw your wheels turning. You were over analyzing again.  He’d spent three months observing you every chance he got. He felt like he knew your anxieties.  So fucking smart, but here you were thinking too much.

"Hey Genuis Ass. Want some?" Daveed’s voice was softer as he grinned and offered you some of his drink.  “Or, I could go make you something?” For some reason he wanted you to get loose. 

"Nah, I'm good Diggs.”  For some reason you needed to stay in control.  You played it off by changing the subject. 

“I still can’t believe y’all call me that.” 

Daveed just smiled and nodded, chuckling a little. He craned his neck and looked at it, having to dodge a smack upside the head.

“That ass is genius, you know. That’s the one thing He Who Shall Not Be Named was right about. And you’re one of the smartest humans I know.”  

You had to look at him then. The flecks of gold in his eyes tho.  But you could tell from the slight redness that he was a little zooted.  He didn’t get that way around you a lot, but you knew for the stories that he partied occasionally. 

He and Rafa and that Toni chick must have pre-gamed.  You remembered the last time you two were  tipsy together.You cleared your throat and looked away.

“Why did you lie to that girl? She can’t sing.” You were shaking your head, scowling at Toni’s screeching from the karaoke machine.

He winked at you. D was well on his way to getting LIT.

"What? She can blow.”  Daveed sipped his drink and watched her. 

“She’ll suck your soul out and spit it back in your mouth." Daveed was loose. And so was his mouth. But he didn’t care.

Your mouth was hanging open at Daveed as you wondered what Daveed had done with Toni, what Daveed AND Rafa had done with Toni... 

Shit, you were just going to ask.

"How do you know that she..."

"AWWWW SHEEEIIIITTT! THAT'S MY JAM! REMEMBER THIS LINDY??"

“No, I was like, negative 5..”

You raised your voice as he traveled away from you, smiling. He was not slick.

“Well you missed out being tardy to the party…” 

He was backing toward the mic, knocking it out of Anthony’s hand and starting the rap. Rafa joined him, trading verses.

Now as the record spins around, you recognize this sound,

Well, it's the underground,

You know that we're down with wutchyalike

Yeah, with wutchyalike, yeah

And though we're usually on the serious tip, check it out:

Tonight we're gonna flip and trip and let it all hang out tonight,

We're gonna say what we like.

'Cause, yo, yo, we want to know how many people in the flow,

Would like to just let yourselves go

And doowutchyalike,

Yeah, well tonight's your night.

Just eat food, try not to be crude or rude,

Kill the attitude, chill the serious mood,

And doowutchyalike,

Yeah, and doowutchyalike,

Everybody doowutchyalike

Everyone was dancing and Daveed had effectively deflected your question. But you would never forget.

By 8 o’clock, Craig grabbed the mic and motioned for Jasmine to come with him. You had enjoyed some cocktails finally, and just figured they were going to duet Wind Beneath My Wings just like they always did. 

You were actually moving to the music and feeling good.

"Ok guys, whew.  I'm hot.  Is it hot in herrrre?" Craig was fanning himself.

“Whoooo! Nelly!”

You yelled and everyone laughed.

Craig took his hood off and started to unzip his onesie. Jasmine did the same.

You kept dancing nervously, not realizing it, looking around at the others who were also disrobing. You did a double take as D’s abs came into view.  What was going on?

Craig continued.

"Lindy, I just need a minute to talk, can you stop whatever it is you're doing?"  He grinned at you from across the room. "You're still moving Lindy."

You blushed and stopped fidgeting.

"Ummm, Craig, what the..."

One by one people dropped their onesies, all except Toni, who had no clue what was going on. Soon, everyone was standing in Craig’s condo in their swimsuits, looking fine as hell. 

You just looked around, then in your cup wondering if you were too drunk and hallucinating.

“Lindy, you’ve worked real hard, and this past few months have been crazy, so we wanted to do something special for you this weekend, for your graduation, and for your birthday, WHICH IS SUNDAY!!”

Everyone cheered as Jasmine took the mic. “You think this party is for me. Well the joke’s on you bitch, because you have been hosting your own party!”

You opened your mouth, squeaked a little, then spoke,

"But why?.. Everybody?  But what..."

Daveed moved close.

"Damn, you fine," you whispered. 

Your hand flew to your mouth when he smirked in response. Everyone was rolling because turns out, you didn’t whisper.

Daveed cleared his throat. "Thank you. You’re fine yaseif. Anyway, Anthony and Jasmine have a house there, and we’re flying out of JFK tonight.  In about two and a half hours in fact. So we gotta get going.”

You still had only a part of a clue of what was going on. But you couldn't resist all of this.

"Okay? But... I don't have any clothes. And I don’t have a ticket..."

Craig came from the storage room off the kitchen with one of your suitcases. Others started getting their bags as well

"Everybody's shit has been in my house for a week. And girl, you know I got your information. It ain’t nothing but a thang.  Your ticket is ready and waiting. Just sent it to your email.”

Your mouth dropped open and you stared at Craig as everyone pulled their onesies back up and got their bags together.

Your eyes filled with tears that you hurriedly brushed away. Craig came over and hugged you. Then every else joined in for a group hug.

"You deserve, Lindy. Let us celebrate you."

You looked like you didn't quite believe it, but you went along. You laughed, visibly deciding to go with the flow.

"I'm down!"

Toni was nearby. When the hug broke up, she started asking questions.  Your  patience was wearing thin.

"I don’t believe that all these people really roll like this. Y’all wild. Susie won that bet."

You just continued to look at this fool.

"But isn’t this dope?  All these famous, successful men being so fearless with their love and appreciation for Black women, of all people. Who woulda thunk they didn't want white women?"

Toni just kept saying the wrong thing. It was the "of all people" for you.

You stared daggers at your houseguest. Toni caught the look.

"Wait, are you mixed?"

You narrowed your eyes and said, "Black mixed with Black."

Toni clutched her pearls.

"Oh wow. Didn't mean to offend. I just mean everyone knows Jasmine is mixed, with her dad and all, as black as can be. But her white British mom saved her from his skin tone. I mean, she has braids in now, so you can see it, but all she has to do is blow her hair straight and she can pass..."

Toni jumped when Rafa spoke. She didn't know he was there.

"Toni. Not Jas. She's the homie." 

The look in his ice blue eyes could burn. 

"And you are a Black woman, so you know how dope they are. Why would anyone NOT worship at your feet?"

Lindy just sipped her drink as Craig entered the chat. "Amen!"

"Maybe it is time for you to get going, honey. I might call you when I get back."

Rafa  led Toni to the door as she protested.

"But I was going to take you to the air..."

"And I APPRECIATE you Black woman, but we'll get there.  See you later."

Then Rafa shut the door in her face. Linden discovered she loved him eternally at that moment. She was rolling.

No one mourned Toni’s departure as arrangements were made for cars to take everyone to the airport.

"You and Daveed can ride with us, Rafa." Ant to the rescue.

"Yeah, Jasmine loves to look at my profile." Jas pinched him so hard he jumped.

“Fuck!”

Ant  was screaming as he, Jasmine and Rafa went out the door. 

"Peace! See you at airport security.  If you get nabbed by TSA, you on your own!”

Daveed lingered. “I don’t know if all of us and our bags will fit in one car. Can I ride with you and Lindy, Craig?”

Craig smirked at Daveed, but didn’t say anything. “Of course...you good with that Lindy?”

You tried to keep it light. 

“Sure.. no biggie,” you cleared your throat and headed to the bathroom to make sure you had everything you needed.

=================

By the time you got to your Uber, the traffic was horrible. It took over an hour to get to the airport. You felt both anxious about missing the flight and keyed up about sitting next to Daveed in the car.

His thigh and side pressing into yours in the dark in the back of an Uber Black brought back memories of that reckless night. 

When he put his arm up on the seat behind you, “For more room,” he said, in that voice and flashing that megawatt smile, you were enveloped more into his scent and warmth. You had to control yourself not to melt into him.

Craig was sitting on his phone, sneaking glances at you and smirking the entire ride. He’d insisted that you be in the middle because you were so tiny.

The whole world was against you, you thought, as you and Daveed both stared straight ahead, both flashing back to that January night.

You were the last three people to run through the airline gate just at they were about to close it. All your friends in first class cheered when you took their seats, and Rafa popped a bottle of champagne.

"Talk about cutting it close," Ant commented as Rafa gave Daveed a high five.

Daveed looked at you. You shook your head at him. Somehow, you were sitting next to him. You just decided to let it be and have some time.

“Just make sure you don’t molest me under this blanket, Ms. Marshall,” Daveed intoned when you were settled and given amenities for the night.

The flight attendant had to tell y’all to keep quiet as the cat calls went up.

Welp, you thought. This will be the vibe the entire weekend. 

You weren’t mad at it. You loved these people. And you were safe. You just smiled, settled down, and looked out of the window to watch the lights of New York fade away.

=================

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[emwritesfootball]

American Girl | Mason Mount

Word Count: 1,949

Warnings: light sex mentions

A birthday gift for my girl @lionspridetingz. Happy birthday, Ads! <3

- - -

When you’d told your friend Christian you were coming to England as part of your study abroad program for a year, he’d immediately offered his place up for you to be his roommate and you’d gratefully accepted. Oddly enough, his place was closer to the university than any of the housing options that were listed, and you were excited to spend time with your childhood friend.

The day before you were set to arrive, however, you got a panicked call from Christian. He was muttering unintelligibly and you couldn’t really hear him over the sounds of the London storm, but you heard enough to know that the room he’d prepared for you had flooded and he was asking his teammates if they would let you stay there while he got that part of his house fixed. Too stunned to say anything other than ‘okay’, you hung up, shaking your head at the insane situation that would only happen to Christian.

Your friend picked you up at the airport the next morning, both of you grinning from ear to ear as he spun you around in a big bear hug. “Fuck, I missed you,” he drawled, instinctively grabbing your massive suitcases that you’d barely managed to haul off the conveyor belt at the checked bag station.

“I missed you, too,” you replied, playfully bumping his shoulder with your own. “So, where are you taking me?”

“Mason’s place. Some of the other guys also offered to take you in but he’s the one I trust most, so I picked him. I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you hummed absently, but internally you were reeling. You’d never met Mason Mount in person but you’d met him plenty of times over FaceTime while you’d been talking with Christian, and somewhere along the way, you’d managed to fall for the England player. You knew you’d be meeting Christian’s teammates at some point, but you hadn’t expected to be living with the one you had a crush on.

You zoned out on the drive to Mason’s place, telling Christian you were just taking in the sights when he asked. It wasn’t a full-on lie - you were taking in all the new sights that were so different from Pennsylvania’s Americana charm, but you were also thinking about Mason and wondering what it would be like to live with him.

Christian shutting off the engine to the car brought you out of your daydreams and you stared at your new home for the next few months.

***

Mason walked out when he heard Christian pull into the drive. He couldn’t believe his luck, having such a beautiful girl live with him while Christian got his place fixed after the flood. Not that you’re gonna do anything about it, the internal voice in his head screamed. Christian had made him promise he wouldn’t try anything with his friend, and Mason fully intended to keep that promise.

She was even more beautiful in person. Mason felt his throat go dry and his palms start to sweat as he took her in. She was in travel clothes - leggings and an oversize hoodie; her hair up in a messy bun - but he couldn’t help going speechless. If she looks this good now, imagine how good she’ll look dressed up for the awards dinner at the end of the season, he couldn’t help thinking, but quickly tried to regain composure as Christian’s voice brought him out of his own head.

“Mase! Thanks again for doing this, man - I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. Glad I could help.” Mason turned his attention to her. “Hey. Nice to finally meet you in person.”

You giggled, hoping your blush wasn’t obvious. “You, too. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Of course.” Mason reached for the duffel you were holding, his fingers brushing yours as he took the bag. “Any friend of Christian’s is a friend of mine.”

You felt a little dejected at the statement, but you tried to tamp it down. Just because you had feelings for Mason didn’t mean that he had to have feelings for you. Plus, as one of Christian’s teammates, he was definitely off-limits - no matter how badly you wanted him. You followed him through his house, trying to keep your eyes ahead of you instead of on his toned back or ass, which proved harder than you thought.

The room was beautifully decorated and you held your breath for a moment while you took it in. It was a beach theme, whites and light blues everywhere. The decor told you a woman must have decorated it, and you felt a pit in your stomach when you remembered that he and Chloe had recently broken up, but that it was entirely possible that she’d been the one to design this. “It’s beautiful; thank you, Mason,” you murmured, setting your bags down. Christian set your large suitcase down next to the dresser, and Mason put your duffel on top of it.

“Let me know if you need anything. This place is yours now, too, so make yourself at home.”

“We’ll be in the living room playing FIFA but if you want help unpacking just let us know.” Christian gave you a smile that you returned and both boys exited, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

***

Two weeks into living with Mason, and the two of you were the best of friends. Of course, you were still closer with Christian, but Mason was getting there. You did your uni work during the day while he was at training and the two of you would cook dinner at night, planning out the following day’s meal afterward so you could go shopping for fresh ingredients in-between your classes. On the nights you weren’t prepping for the following day’s uni classes, you and Mason relaxed on the sofa with a movie or some trashy British reality show. It was the best part of your week, honestly, and you couldn’t believe how easily the two of you had fallen into a routine. On the colder nights when you were both snuggled under individual blankets, you couldn’t concentrate on the movie because you were distracted thinking about how badly you’d like to snuggle under one blanket with Mason.

***

“Are you coming to the match tomorrow?” Mason asked the night before the first match you’d be attending in London.

“Yeah,” you said smiling, turning to face him. The two of you were unwinding on a Friday night, and you were once again wishing you could be snuggling with him instead of sitting on the opposite end of the sofa.

“Do you, uh, do you need a kit to wear?” Mason couldn’t believe he was stuttering over his words, feeling incredibly awkward in front of you for no reason. Well, he knew the reason but he wasn’t going to dwell on something that wasn’t going to happen.

You paused, your heart racing. “Oh. Uhm, I have one of Christian’s that I was planning on wearing?” You couldn’t believe you were turning down the opportunity to wear Mason’s kit in the stands but you knew Christian would get suspicious and wearing Mason’s kit felt too intimate for you - even though nothing was happening between you and Mason.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

You felt bad, watching Mason visibly blush and run a hand through his hair as he chuckled awkwardly. “Don’t worry about it - maybe one day.”

Both of you could feel the tension in the air at the last part of your sentence, but neither of you acted on it. It was a line you weren’t ready to cross, but something told you it would be happening sooner rather than later.

***

Over the next month, the two of you got closer on the sofa. Soon, separate blankets became one blanket and you snuggling into his side became your legs over his lap with your head on his shoulder. You hadn’t kissed yet, but both of you knew it was going to happen sooner or later.

You shared everything with him - your thoughts and feelings on anything; your childhood; your past - and he did the same with you. Mason soon came to know what mood you were in by the tone of your ‘good morning’ and you could read him better than Christian. You knew that Mason was worried about not getting a call-up for this latest round of World Cup Qualifiers - something he hadn’t told anyone on the team - so the morning he got the call was huge.

“It’s Southgate,” he’d whispered when his phone went off at breakfast one morning.

“You got this,” you reassured him, watching him like a hawk as he picked up the phone.

Mason’s expression was neutral as he nodded and said, “Yes, sir,” over and over into the phone.

“Well?” You asked when he hung up.

“I got the call-up,” he said, the disbelief in his voice evident.

“Oh, my god! Mase!” You stood up, enveloping him in a hug. “I’m so proud of you!”

Mason returned your hug, so overwhelmed by emotion that he didn’t even realize he’d kissed you until you were pulling back, looking at him with an odd look on your face. “I-”

“Shut up and kiss me again, Mase,” you murmured, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him in for another kiss.

***

Your relationship grew from there, but the two of you kept it a secret, not wanting to tell anyone until you were ready. Slowly, your things moved from the guest bedroom to his bedroom, and you spent every night in his bed. Mason loved having you in his bed, drifting off to sleep to the sound of your American accent as you told him stories. You loved getting to spend your nights in his bed, the feeling of waking up next to him better than anything else in your world at the moment.

Slowly, you started wearing Mason’s kit underneath Christian’s, making sure Christian’s wasn’t visible when Mason bent you over the sofa and fucked you senseless after matches.

“I think I’m ready to tell everyone,” Mason said one night as the two of you were cuddling in bed the night before another big match. “That is, if you are, too.”

“Yeah, I think I am,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his sternum. “After the match tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

***

Chelsea’s unbeaten streak under Tuchel continued, a big win coming against United. You hadn’t seen Christian before the match so you’d switched out his shirt for Mason’s, the ‘Mount 19’ on your back feeling lighter than air as you ran onto the pitch after the match and immediately kissed him. “I’m so proud of you, baby,” you said, kissing him again for good measure. He’d scored a goal and you couldn’t wait to congratulate him.

“What the fuck is this?” Christian’s voice cut in and you and Mason jumped apart.

“She’s my girl,” Mason explained, the words filling you with warmth as he pulled you back into him and slung and arm around your shoulder.

“We’re together.”

“I can see that,” Christian grumbled, looking between the two of you. “It’s a little weird so it’ll take some getting used to, but okay. You,” he said, pointing at you, “don’t hurt him. And you,” Christian pointed at Mason, “if you hurt her, I’ll hurt you.”

You rolled your eyes. “We know, Christian.”

“C’mon, Angel,” Mason murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, “let’s get home so we can celebrate your birthday properly.”

“You remembered?” You asked, shocked.

“Of course. I’ve been into you since the moment you moved into my guest bedroom - how could I forget?” He leaned down, kissing you properly. “Happy birthday, Angel.”

[pigeon-princess]

Edmund Ravenwood’s Backstory

Thank you all for being so patient!! I finally have the comprehensive story of my DnD character Edmund’s life, past experiences, how he met his patron The Winter Prince and right up until he first ran into our dnd party! I’ve also included a lot of of never before seen secret artwork below the cut! 

Some of the backstory content discussed in this has not been shared with the other players in the campaign, so if anyone of you are reading this (Selby I’m looking at you) avert your eyes!! 

EDMUND’S EARLY YEARS

For the full family history of the Ravenwoods, I only know as much as Edmund knows which is not a lot (My DM holds the secrets). As far as it concerns to Edmund, the Ravenwood family have always been renowned for their arcane abilities, holding a strong Elven lineage that dates back centuries. His father, Rykar Ravenwood used be high ranking officer in the Queen’s army before she died and now holds the position of Kings representative for the state of Vela, in the continent of Lunaris. 

During the time of his military service, Edmund’s father left his family to fight for a few years and when he returned, he brought back his illegitimate Half Elven son, much to the dismay of his wife, Selphine Ravenwood. The identity of Edmund’s birth mother is unknown to him (Only my DM knows) and absolutely everyone refuses to talk about it, the only thing he can assume was that she was human. Although not knowing has left Edmund feeling uneasy at times, in order to fit in with his family, he’s never dwelt on who she could be or had any strong desire to seek her out.

Edmund is the middle child of Ravenwood's 5 children. The oldest son, Ambrose is a respected professor at Hansen’s Academy of the Arcane, doing his best to keep himself composed and proper despite Edmund giving him constant headaches. The oldest daughter Leona is the commander of Vela’s current military force, she has a particularly cold and serious attitude towards most things. Corda, who is slightly younger than Edmund, takes after her mother and is a young socialite with an interest in fashion. She hides a particularly cruel personality behind her sweet smile. Erinaya is the youngest of five children, and has always been the one sibling that openly cares for Edmund. She has outward adoration for him and he would often take her out for adventures and play with her throughout their childhood together. 

His parents were distant in his upbringing, his father would occasionally show him slight signs of warmth when the rest of the family was not around. However, his mother held a particular disdain for him as Edmund was a walking, talking reminder of her husband’s infidelity.

Another constant reminder that Edmund did not fit into his family was the fact that he was completely magically inept. Despite countless tutors, he was unable to do any kind of magic properly, either the spells would not work at all or things had a habit of exploding. The crueler members of his family (His mother and Corda) would often say that it’s the filthy blood in his veins (the human half) that stops the magic from coming to him. 

While spending most of his time being raised by the family’s hired nanny Mary, he developed a similar accent to her own, one less posh than the rest of his family which suited him just fine when people commented on it (Eddie’s accent more is East London/Cockney while his family is closer to am upper class English accent. I used to be really bad at speaking in his accent but I’ve gotten a lot better with practice and now I can slip into it no problem!).  

Most of Edmund’s early years were spent playing out in the woods at the back of the Ravenwood's grand estate. It was there that Edmund met his first friends, two human twins by the names of Rosa and Elijah and despite how his parents discouraged him from associating with the common folk, it only urged him to seek them out more. His friends started calling him Eddie, and the nickname stuck as his little band of friends grew over the years. 

Some of his new mates included a chilled out blue Tiefling called Hex, who is the go to guy to get ahold of all your illegal substances (He was also the person that Edmund lost his virginity to in their teenage years), a Half Orc named Zarak (He became the designated Mum friend of the group) and a Gnome girl with a bold personality called Kiplin. 

AURIGA & APOLLO 

By the time Eddie was a teenager, rebellion was deeply rooted into his personality. The next state over from Vela is a place called Auriga, it's known for its loud music and wild parties. Using the family’s teleportation circle, Eddie and his mates would nearly always sneak off for nights out and spring break holidays. 

A lot of those years spent partying in Auriga are still very hazy to Eddie to this day, the copious amounts of alcohol, party drugs and occasional hook ups have all blurred together. However, things took a turn when on one of these wild nights out, his friends dragged him to a concert for a band of bards known as Killer Korpse. 

Watching the lead singer perform, Eddie was absolutely starstruck and fell in love on the spot. Apollo was everything Eddie dreamed of, a rebellious bard full of magic, singing about not giving a shit and as an added bonus he was a human which his parents would hate. Everything to do with Apollo was a world away from his uptight family and a reputation he has no hopes of living up to. 

After stalking the band for several weeks, hanging outside the backstage door and hovering in the taverns they were staying in, surprisingly Apollo actually took notice of him. One night when Eddie was hopelessly loitering near backstage, the door opened and instead of the usual guard telling him to fuck off, Apollo stepped out and right over to him and Eddie stared up at him completely lost for words.

Apollo thought the stalker kid was really funny so he decided to bring him backstage to meet the rest of the band. After Eddie had downed a bunch of drinks he started oversharing about how much he hated his family and it was then that it clicked for Apollo who Eddie actually is, since the Ravenwoods are very well known. When Eddie started a very drunk confession of love to Apollo, he decided he was going to have a lot of fun with this and a few minutes later Apollo had Eddie pinned to the couch in a very drunk make out session.

After that Eddie was caught in a whirlwind of things and over the spring break he was brought along with the band for their tour. He was having the best time of his life, half in a daze because he couldn’t believe he was spending nearly every night in bed with Apollo, the rebellious bard of his dreams. 

Apollo and his bandmates were pretty much just assholes, the fame had really gone to their heads and they would get away with doing pretty much whatever they wanted. Eddie being naive and being in his own happy world never noticed Apollo sneaking off to hook up with other groupies or making fun of Eddie behind his back. Half the time the band was high on a drug known as Sharp Sugar that’s often used to enhance your senses (AKA gives you an advantage on all ability checks) however the come down can be brutal on the body and makes the substance highly addictive. Some of the shine for his relationship with Apollo started to wear off after having some very scary encounters with a drug deprived Apollo. 

Even though Apollo was a dick a lot of the time, there are also some moments where he could be incredibly sweet, and parts where he would share stories of his own life with Eddie and the sincerity of it made Eddie fall deeper and deeper into devotion. 

On the night that Killer Korpse finished their last show for the spring break in Auriga and just before they were about to travel to the capital city to tour again, there was a big party to celebrate. While Apollo was surrounded by his drunk and very high friends, Eddie approached him with all his courage and told him that he had decided he wasn’t going back to his family and he was going to run away with the band so that they could be together. 

Apollo stood there looking at him seriously for a moment before he started to laugh. He was howling with laughter, clutching onto his friends, his eyes snapped back up to Eddie saying “You can't be serious, look this whole thing was fun while it lasted but everyones heard about the black sheep of the Ravenwood’s now and I'm bored of this. Its over Eddie” 

Absolutely humiliated in front of Apollo’s entire backstage entourage, in a daze Eddie ran away as fast as he could and he slowly made his way home to very angry parents.

HANSEN’S & HUDIC 

By the time Eddie returned to Vela the word had gotten out that the bastard son of the Ravenwood’s was sleeping around with a famous bard. 

In order to quickly shut this rumour down and to get Eddie out of the spotlight, his parents paid to send him to Hansen’s school of the Arcane, under the assumption that he would be watched over by his brother Ambrose (much to his dismay), who is currently working there as a professor. They were hoping that with the correct teaching, Eddie might be able to hone some kind of magical ability. 

There are two ways you can get into the academy, you can either take an extremely difficult exam and practical test, or if you have enough money you can pay your way in. Luckily for Edmund’s family, money is not an issue. 

Not being able to use magic while surrounded by a school for talented magic users is not fun. Especially when everyone knows that you didn’t earn your place and your parents paid for you to be there. And it sucks even more if you don’t actually want to be there in the first place but for Eddie he thought that this would be a wonderful opportunity to stir up some shit. 

Edmund was stuck sharing a dorm room with a human boy called Ozwald. Oz wasn’t too bad, he was one of the only people who didn’t actually look down on Eddie because of his family or lack of magical ability. He was also very patient for putting up with all the trouble Eddie was seeming to find himself in. 

It was in his numerous detentions that Eddie met his new band of friends. A feisty fire Genasi sorcerer called Flint who had a habit of setting things on fire when he lost his temper. Miriam Makovski, a human wizard who just wanted to hit things with a sword and not use magic like her wizard family insisted. Rowan Buckley, a sweet Firbolg druid who was only in detention because the teacher had forgotten he was still in the classroom organising the books. And last but not least his right hand man and partner in crime Theron Finchley, A Halfling wild magic sorcerer who enjoyed stirring up shit just as much as Eddie did. The group managed to get up to all sorts of mischief, smuggling in drugs and alcohol with the help of Hex, pranking teachers, and messing with the uptight students. 

Heres a drawing I did of Rowan because I love him and I would die for him. 

Once Edmund was starting to finish off his second year the Academy, his lack of magical ability was starting to get to him, especially seeing the shining talent in his friends, even if they didn’t really care about their own magic much at all. Doing some research for the first time in his life, Edmund went down the path of researching powerful beings that could give power to those who seek it. Thinking that perhaps this could be his opportunity to have the magic that he was so jealous of. Sneaking into the restricted section, Edmund came across a book describing a resurrection ritual involving an old god of Betrayal known as Hudic. 

Gathering the supplies for the ritual was tough, some of the ingredients being very hard to get ahold of (including bones of an innocent person and other strange items) and over the next few months,  Edmund worked on drawing up the summoning sigil under the rug in his shared dorm room, hiding it whenever ozwald returned from his studies. 

On one cold evening, as soon as Ozwald left to study in the library, Edmund began the ritual, pouring his own blood into the center of the sigil and chanting the words from the book. As the shadows started to collect around his feet and a grotesque figure began to pull himself from the inscriptions on the ground, it was then that Ozwald walked back into the dorm room having forgotten something. 

At that point everything went wrong, the demon grabbed Ozwald and dragged him back into the shadows with him, blood covering the floor, and the screams of both Oz and Eddie echoing throughout the halls. There was a huge scene students began to run out of bed, Professors running into the dorm room to stop students looking in. And before anyone could grab him, Eddie used the rest of his strength to climb out of the window. And for the second time in his life, Eddie ran away. 

THE WINTER PRINCE

With nothing but the clothes on his back, Eddie blindly walked south. Since the academy was in the southernmost part of Vela, it wasn’t long before he started nearing the border for the state known as Crusis, a cold and unforgiving territory bordered by an endless winter wasteland. Eddie, snuck through the border patrols by pretending to be one of the hundreds of refugees making their way south, all displaced from the war with the fire giants raging across the South East of Lunaris. 

Huddling for warmth in barns and gathering scraps of food where he could, he overheard a group of travellers discussing a hidden library out in the winter wastelands. He had nothing else to live for? Perhaps a magic library would have the solution to his problems. So with what little supplies he could gather, he set out in search of a Library, in hopes that he could find another book that could help him reverse what he had done. 

The wastelands are absolutely brutal, many experienced travellers die out in the cold, so for Edmund he was barely hanging in there. At one point he even had a run in with a polar bear and fought to avoid a handful of white dragon wyrmlings. He wandered the endless snow fields until his legs gave out, and the snow was too strong. 

Edmund lay in the snow, looking up at the greying sky, frostbite already starting to nip at the exposed skin on his face. It was in this lucid state of consciousness that he barely registered a figure standing over him, he could have sworn that he was being lifted, and the last thing he remembered was strong arms carrying him before he passed out. 

It was the press of something to his lips that woke him up. Delirious, naked and covered in blankets of fur, Eddie gazed up at the face of the most ethereal looking man he had ever seen. Long white hair, pale skin, long elven ears and ice seeming to glitter across his features. At his lips, the man was forcefully pushing berries and fruits into his mouth, looking annoyed and telling him to eat or he would die. 

After a few days, when Edmund was mostly recovered, he took note that he had been brought to some kind of palace seemingly sculpted of ice and stone. The man introduced himself simply as The Winter Prince. He explained that he had been banished from his home in the Winter Court of the Feywild and confined to the mortal realm and specifically this small area of wasteland in Crusis. Ignoring any of Edmund’s questions about why he was banished, The Winter Prince proposed a deal to him. 

“I’m trapped here in my castle, I can’t go anywhere or in fact do anything, so if you are able go out and look for someway to release me from this banishment, in return I will grant you access to my power, but you’ll also have to lend me your eyes and your body on occasion.” 

By accepting the deal The Winter Prince would be able to look through his eyes and take control of Eddie’s body when he sees fit. (As a player I have to roll a wisdom save and if I fail then my DM takes control of Eddie’s actions as the Winter Prince. In the beginning of the campaign the other players had no idea what was happening, and no idea who my patron was at all. This has already lead to some AMAZING in game interactions) 

With promise of magic and nothing else left to lose, Eddie agreed and The Winter Prince stepped forward and sealed the contract with a kiss on the forehead. After spending the next few hours running around in the snow, throwing Eldritch blasts into the sky and wooping for joy the two of them prepared for Eddie’s journey back into civilisation. 

In the throne room lined by a large mirror made of glass, Eddie was shocked to see a vision of his reflection standing motionlessly, behind the prince’s throne. The prince explained that it was another added sign of their contract (Eddie now does not have a reflection and doesn’t show up in mirrors) 

The Winter Prince is always very graceful and elegant in his movements and he usually speaks with a relaxed tone, like many of the fey he is cold and cruel but has somewhat of a mischievous edge. Eddie was reminded of the cruel twist of his personality with how The Winter Prince reminded him that the only reason he was chosen was because all the other people that he had found in the snow were already long dead. 

With a new mission in mind, a resistance to the cold and new power running through his veins, Edmund set out to the capital city of Naos to earn some money and start looking for ways to release The Winter Prince’s banishment. And of course he wouldn’t throw away the opportunity to test out his new found magical abilities along the way, perhaps he would even try to unravel some of the mysteries behind his patron’s cold heart. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you have any questions please let me know because I’d be more than happy to answer! 

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Part 10

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 10: Tommy visits Alfie, Charlie is taken.

           Alfie’s fingers drummed impatiently on his desk. He was itching to just get the meeting with Tommy over with. He’d suffered enough as far as he was concerned. Seeing Ella cry, being the reason for her tears. Unbearable. But his hands were tied, what else could he reasonably do?

           Still, Tommy was prolonging the visit. Taking his time walking to Alfie’s office, sitting down, adjusting his tie pin (pretentious ass), and painstakingly lighting a cigarette.

           Alfie stifled a groan in the back of his throat and rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s safe, what?” His patience was wearing unbelievably thin. Another five seconds and he was sure he would start doling out well-deserved threats.

           “You made my sister cry,” Tommy informed him as if he didn’t already know.

           The man narrowed his eyes. “I did? Me? I’m the one who made her cry? You sure ‘bout that, mate?” He hissed.

           It was infuriating that nothing he could ever do would disturb the Brummie. He simply raised an eyebrow and watched the end of his cigarette slowly burn away. “What can I do to make you change your mind about my proposition?”

           “Proposition.” Alfie laughed bitterly and toyed with a pen to keep his hands busy. “Tommy, you’ve been ‘round the block before. Surely you must know that a woman doesn’t want to be offered up as a token for loyalty. So what you can do, right, is take back your words and leave me be on the matter. Sound good?” When he didn’t get an immediate answer, he switched subjects. “You’re here to talk business, meeting the Russians tonight. I must urge you to inquire about Faberge eggs. You can toss ‘bout diamonds and sapphires or whatever, yeah, but that’s the real prize, innit? With a couple of fine pieces and an egg, you’ll easily get your fill of forty grand.” What came across as helpful was simply Alfie setting up the opening stages of his own plan.

           Tommy nodded and looked interested in the possibility. “I can do that. They’re tricky but perhaps you’ll be able to persuade them a little further.”

           He crossed his arms over his chest and grunted in agreement. “Whatever I can do, mate.”

           But apparently, the Blinder wasn’t done with the previous issue. “So you have no intention of marrying my sister.”

           Alfie nearly blew a gasket. “You fucking Birmingham folk don’t ever let go of things, do ya?” He snapped.

           Calmly, Tommy tapped a bit of ash off his cigarette and cleared his throat. “It’s a simple question, Mr. Solomons.”

           “Don’t think it’s any of your business, mate. Never has and frankly, it never will.” He growled. “That’s my decision, innit?”

           “I’ll take that as a no then.”

           “Fuck off.”

           Tommy took one last drag before standing up. “Just trying to clarify, Alfie.” He buttoned his coat and flicked the cigarette into the ashtray on the desk that was really only used by him whenever he visited. “I’ve got other alliances I can make. You think our kin should stay with our kin. Since Ella isn’t Jewish and you’re so adamant about that, I s’pose it’s only fair to uphold our own roots. I’ve got inquiries from a family of Travelers.”

           Alfie’s hand slowly went to his waistband where his pistol was tucked away. Anger in his blood started to rise to a boiling point. His fingers curled around the pistol, ready to pull it out on the Blinder for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was a miracle Tommy wasn’t already riddled with bullets so late in their business relationship.

           “They’re worse than we are. You’d think we were the poshest folk you’ve ever seen if you met them.” Tommy continued to bait Alfie, taunt him and get him to the point of no return. Get him to realize that Ella wasn’t to be toyed with and her brother wouldn’t tolerate this game Alfie was playing with her. “Savages, really. But they’re effective, aye? An alliance with them would give me enough power to start taking more areas. Maybe areas a little closer to Camden.”

           “Tommy, I swear to whatever fucking pagan being you believe in, I’m going to blow your brains all over this fucking office.” Alfie’s face was starting to go red with rage and he was ready to pull out his pistol. Of course, he knew the man was just trying to rile him up. Manipulate him into doing his bidding. Ride or die, that’s how they both operated. But Alfie also knew that Tommy was ruthless enough to go through with what he was threatening. He’d made an alliance with the Lees by marrying John off. He very well could do the same to Ella. And Alfie would lose her for good. It made his heart compress painfully at the thought.

           Tommy put a hand in his pocket and retrieved something. He approached Alfie’s desk and dropped the small item. “That was the ring my father gave my mother.” He explained in a steady voice, fully aware that Alfie was armed and angry enough to do exactly what he threatened. “I’ll leave it with you for a week. After that week, if you haven’t made your decision, I’ll return and I’ll take it back. Rest assured, Mr. Solomons, after that, the ring will go to someone else who won’t wait.”

           Alfie’s jaw clenched. “I can’t fucking wait to spit on your grave.” He snarled viciously.

           “Neither can I, Alfie,” Tommy responded without skipping a beat and took his leave.

           Alfie loosened his grip on his gun and heaved out an exasperated sigh. He eyed the ring sitting on the desk near the ashtray where Tommy’s still smoking cigarette sat. For a moment, he didn’t even want to touch the thing, convinced it had some gypsy curse on it. But curiosity got the better of him and he picked up the piece of jewelry. It was a simple gold ring that needed a good polishing. Mounted was a round cut topaz stone that was small enough for him to scoff at. No wife of his would wear something so modest.

           But that wasn’t why Tommy gave it to him. It was the sentiment behind the gem that would mean more to Ella.

           Alfie turned the ring around in his fingers for a little bit, his mind racing. What would he do if he learned Ella had been pawned off to some gypsy clan? God was truly testing him. The only woman he ever loved just happened to be the sister of the most infuriating man to ever grace the planet. Just his luck.

           He grumbled a few obscenities under his breath and tucked the ring into his pocket.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           It was always a strange phenomenon seeing the Shelby Company at work. Socialites mixing with folk who grew up in the slums. Some could say it was possible to move up in the world. To step into another social class and fit right in. Some disagreed. Just because you put on a nice outfit and some gold didn’t make you anything different. You were still the person you were born as just dressed to the nines.

           But Ella thought her brother looked like he fit right in. As he stood in front of the group gathered for the opening of Grace’s foundation, he didn’t look out of place. Even with a Brummie accent, he spoke with the esteem of a businessman. Because that’s what he was. It didn’t matter what he did to make his company rise from the dirt, he conducted business. They all did, to a certain extent. And if Tommy’s predictions were sound, they’d be a legitimate company. Still, the suspicion and fear would linger, there was no denying that. Whispers would continue to float around about how the Shelbys grasped the reins of power.

           After he spoke in front of the gathered crowd, Tommy slipped out of the room. Ella stood and excused herself to Ada who was sitting beside her. She followed her brother out into the hall.

           He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and eyes fixed on the photograph of his wife. Grace’s serene expression surrounded by wreaths and garlands of flowers. Some of her favorites when she was still alive.

           Ella went to stand beside her brother, touching his shoulder to alert him of her presence. “Doing alright?” She could imagine it was an emotional day for him. He would see the production of his wife’s dream without her there beside him. On top of the added stress of everything else going on.

           He nodded solemnly, his eyes never moving from Grace.

           “Mum’s ring is missing.” There wasn’t concern or anxiety. Ella had a sneaking suspicion of where it had gone. Only her siblings and Polly knew that she kept the family heirloom in her jewelry box. “I couldn’t find it when I was putting on my earrings this morning.”

           “I know,” Tommy answered. “I took it.”

           She glanced over at him, hoping for more of an explanation than he offered. But she wouldn’t get the chance to ask any follow-up questions.

           “The absence of my invitation for this event was obviously an oversight on your part, Mr. Shelby.” The thick Irish accent was unfamiliar to Ella, but Tommy appeared to be well acquainted with it. His jaw immediately clenched as he turned around.

           Ella did the same and saw the priest standing in the hallway. Something about the man gave her a sinking feeling in her gut. Based on Tommy’s reaction, she could assume this was the man that they planned to kill. A man of the cloth.

           “Ah, Miss Shelby, I don’t believe we’ve met.” Father Hughes smiled with malice in his eyes.

           Tommy subtly placed himself in front of his sister, taking a step forward to place her behind his shoulder.

           “The woman who fell in love with the Jew.”

           Ella was unsure how this man had managed to stay alive so long. He’d pissed off the wrong people too many times. People like him didn’t last long when it came to the Peaky Blinders. But she had a feeling there was a reason Tommy was waiting. All it took was the right moment. And certainly in the middle of a social event opening an orphanage in broad daylight was not the right moment.

           But what really sent a chill down her spine was how he seemed to know everything. Things that the average passerby didn’t. He knew about Alfie.

           “Go to the reception, El,” Tommy said quietly.

           “Tom…” She was uneasy about leaving him alone with the priest.

           “I’ll be right there, go.” Her brother replied firmly.

           Reluctantly, Ella nodded and made her way down the hall to find her family. As she passed, Hughes gave her a sickeningly smug smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Ella couldn’t shake the bad feeling she got from Father Hughes. She stayed close to her family to feel safe, bouncing back and forth when the conversation bored her.

           Ada sighed and tried to soothe Charlie who was fussing loudly. She rocked him back and forth. “He doesn’t want to play with Karl after he took his train.” She shook her head.          

           Ella smiled. “So much like Tommy. Never satisfied when things don’t go his way.” She agreed and tried to hush her nephew to no avail.

           “I know, love, you want dad? Here we go, let’s find him.” Ada decided and headed over to her brother to pass Charlie off.

           Ella lingered by the table with pastries and finger sandwiches but she didn’t have much of an appetite. Her mind was like a switch, flipping from one worry to another. Why did Tommy take their mother’s ring from her jewelry box? What had he talked to the priest about?

           When Ada returned, the sister’s chatted about nonsense. Ella tried to get her mind off her anxiety and hoped she was simply overreacting. But the bad feeling turned into something all too real.

           Tommy walked over to them. “Where’s Charles?” He asked with a confused look.

           Ada frowned. “I gave him to you.”

           “Where is he?” Tommy demanded again.

           “He was just here.” Ella felt immediate panic spark in her chest, rising to her throat. “Where could he have gone?”

           Tommy rushed over from family member to family member asking the same question. And within seconds, madness ensued. The Blinders were scattered about, searching the building and running outside to find the missing boy. Ella felt dizzy as she ran through the halls of the new building, trying every door, which was firmly locked.

           “Charlie?!” She shouted, her voice following her through the vast hallways.

           “El!” Ada’s heels clicked across the smooth floor. “They’ve taken him, they took him into a car.”

           “No, they…he was right there!” Ella was shaking with fear. The threat was so close, maybe none of them even realized. The entire time, they had enemies breathing down the back of their neck. If they could simply snatch a toddler in a crowded room with his father right there, then there was no telling what else they could or would do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

           The rain sounded like pebbles against the window. It was mildly soothing but the night was heightened by anticipation and fear. Polly gently stroked Ella’s hair as they waited in the betting shop.

           Tommy entered like a storm. Dripping from the rain and with a silent fury that filled the room. “Where’s Linda?” He demanded.

           “With Esme.”

           “Esme’s water broke.” John entered from the back door still wearing his coat and hat.

           “I need to know who spoke.” Tommy’s eyes passed from each of his family members in the room. “Our enemies know everything. Everything. I need to know who spoke about business outside.” His voice became more insistent and his steely expression turned paranoid. “I need to know who spoke and who they spoke to, now.”

           Arthur tried to step in but Tommy was already too far gone. The man looked from person to person, his face still stained by the rain.

           “Your wife, Arthur? Or Esme getting cash for cocaine. And you two.” Tommy turned to his sisters. “Back in the family, aye? Out of the blue.”

           Ella’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’d let something like this happen?” She challenged.

           “If anyone has talked about the tunnel to anyone else, I need to know this second!” Tommy snapped.

           She stood and gave him a disappointed glare. “I’m not going to sit around and let you speak to me like this. Not after everything you’ve done to this family.” She could sympathize with her brother. He lost his only son, the only thing of Grace he had left. But somewhere along the line, he’d found himself in that position because of his own choices. Ella left the betting shop and retreated upstairs to her room.

           Tommy looked to the doorway where she disappeared. There was someone else. Someone else who knew. Not only that, it was someone who held that damn egg.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Ella spent the night in her room, curled up in bed under the quilts. The rain continued until the morning, leaving a fog over Birmingham. The first thought upon seeing the daylight filtering in through the lace windows was about her nephew’s safety. There wasn’t much more she could do other than pray he was okay.

           It was hardly seven in the morning when there was a brief knock at the door and the knob turning.

           “El, get up.” Tommy entered a second later.

           “I’m still sleeping.” She said even though she was staring at the opposite wall while lying on her side.

           “It wasn’t a request. I need you in the car, now.” He looked disheveled, most likely he didn’t sleep at all that night.

           “I’m not doing any of your dirty work, Tom. Not after the way you spoke to everyone last night.” She made no effort to get up.

           “Ella, fucking get up and be downstairs in two minutes.” He ordered in the voice she used to fear. The voice that used to let her know that she was in trouble. Maybe for telling fortunes at school, biting John’s arm, or hiding from him when they were called inside for dinner at dusk. He had been an authority figure in her life ever since she could remember. But she’d gotten sick of it. Fed up with his complex.

           She sighed heavily and sat up. “I’m only doing this because of Charlie, not because of the way you’re acting now.” She made sure that was clear before he left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Tommy parked outside of a large warehouse that Ella was unfamiliar with. She was sat in the backseat while Michael sat in the passenger seat. Neither of them cared to explain what they were doing there.

           “Wait here,” Tommy ordered firmly and stepped out of the car.

           Ella let out a frustrated sigh. “So he’s just brought us along to make us wait outside?” She lamented to her cousin.

           Michael shrugged and made himself busy by loading his pistol with bullets. “He has a plan.”

           “Yeah, always seems to have some sort of plan.” Ella decided she wasn’t going to just sit in the car and went to step out.

           Michael turned around in the front seat. “He doesn’t want us to…”

           “I’ll be fine.” She cut him off and shut the door behind her. Tucking her pistol in her holster tucked under her fur-lined coat, she made her way into the warehouse.

           Her entrance caused a pause in the conversation. But she was the most surprised when she saw Alfie standing a little bit away from her brother. His blue eyes watched her with a hint of apprehension, unsure what her reaction would be to him.

           Tommy was the first to speak. “Ella, I told you to wait in the car-”

           She didn’t listen and began walking straight for Alfie. The man beside the Jewish gangster tensed up a bit at her fast approach. But Alfie waved him off and let her step right into his space.

           Without a word, she reached into his heavy, black overcoat. Searching his inside pockets until she found what she was looking for. Her mother’s ring.

           Alfie almost looked guilty. Guilty for having it. Guilty for keeping it, instead of giving it back to Tommy. Guilty for holding onto the physical hope that he could still have Ella.

           She held it up to his face. Her lower lip trembled but her eyes didn’t dare move from his. “Why’d he give this to you?” Her voice shook. Everything continued to pack on, putting more and more weight on her shoulders and making her more and more confused. The push and pull was agonizing and she was going to end it.          

           “Ella,” Tommy spoke firmly, trying to get her away from Alfie.

           “Answer me.” She ignored her brother unaware that he had drawn his gun.

           Alfie noticed the pistol. “Go back to the car.” He spoke gently but wanted to get her out of the way.

           “Why did he give this to you?” Ella shouted. Her words echoed through the large warehouse and caused a few birds to spook off their perches.

           The space went silent for a moment, and then Tommy cocked his gun. The metallic clicking sound was too familiar to Ella. Initially, it used to mark the thrill of the hunt. Getting ready to claim a prize after tracking it patiently through the woods. Now it meant death. Retaliation. Fear. Power.

           Ella turned around but didn’t move out of the way. Standing in front of Alfie, she glared at her brother. “Tell me.”

           “Ella, move.” Tommy’s hand didn’t lower but she noticed it was shaking ever so slightly.

           “Why did you give this to him?” She repeated herself.

           “It was a mistake. You can take it back.” Tommy looked past her, over her shoulder at the gangster. “It’s not his to give anymore.”

��          “Why?”

           “He left the richest name off the list.” Her brother answered, his eyes were cold.

           “What are you…”

           Tommy’s anger was palpable as he continued to point the gun forward. “He made a deal with the Oddfellows. Told them about the tunnel, told them about the deal with the Soviets.”

           Ella froze for what felt like hours. She didn’t want to turn around and face the man she loved. The man who had held her heart in his hands while he went behind her back. “No…” The word came out long and sounded foreign to even herself. Finally, she faced Alfie again. “You did this?”

           The man was facing two worlds colliding together. Two different faces of his self. The brash, unapologetic, ruthless gangster and the man who found the one person on the planet who saw his vulnerable side. “Things you don’t understand…”

           “Tell me what I don’t understand!” Ella snapped. She was beyond the point of acting patient and listening to the men in her life speak. It was her turn. She’d waited long enough. “Everyone ‘round here thinks I don’t fucking understand anything. So, please, fucking enlighten me. Tell me what I don’t understand!”

           “I told you he couldn’t be trusted,” Tommy spoke up.

           Ella just laughed sarcastically. “And yet you were willing to marry me off to him.” She snarled and pointed at Alfie. “You proud? Proud of what you’ve done? The damage you’ve caused. They’ve got my nephew and we don’t know if he’s even still alive!”

           Alfie couldn’t keep a neutral face. He had no idea about Charlie, no idea what the Oddfellows were up to. But in his anger and humiliation for being lied to, he chose to make a deal.

           Ella closed her fingers around her mother’s ring and walked towards her brother. “Nothing but a pawn to you lot. Isn’t that right, pral?” She gave Tommy a scathing look. “Are we all just pawns? Charlie too? Moving your little pieces ‘cross the board while you stay safe, protected by your soldiers?” She yelled. “Are you both proud? Proud of what you have? Guess what. In the end, when we’ve all died ‘cause of you, you can be comforted by your money. All ‘lone in an empty house, satisfied that you won. Never caring about the people who loved you!”            

           “I didn’t know about Charlie,” Alfie replied honestly. “But if your brother wants to fucking kill me now then let him do it. Step aside and let him. But don’t you fucking dare tell me that I never loved you. Were ready to give you that ring because Tommy were threatening to pass you off to someone else. And I’ll be damned if I let him use you.”

           “If you loved me you never would’ve gone against my family!” Ella matched his volume and clenched her hands into fists. The topaz gem on the ring digging into her palm as her knuckles whitened. “You wouldn’t have put an innocent little boy in danger!”

           “Then step aside, let him shoot me!” Alfie stepped towards her, his cane slamming down onto the concrete. “That’d solve your problems, love. Once ol’ Alfie Solomons is dead and gone, you won’t have any more fucking issues. You can go off with your family and forget ‘bout me. Let me pay for me fucking sins, step aside.”

           Everything inside of Ella became so wound up the more he spoke. Her entire body trembled from all the immense pressure pressing down on her heart. “That’d solve your problems.”

           “I never stopped loving you!” Alfie barked over her voice. “Not once, even when I made this deal. And I fucking hated myself ‘cause of it. The world ain’t built for us, love, no matter what.” He pointed his cane at Tommy. “He’s always going to want to do away with me, won’t he? Even if we were married, he’d want me gone. So better off he does it now.”

           Tommy lowered his gun. “Stand down, Alfie.” He muttered and tucked his gun away. “Michael,”

           Ella hadn’t noticed their cousin had run into the warehouse once he heard all the shouting.

           “Go and tell Moss, it’s Palmer.” The Blinder instructed. “Ella, get back in the car.”

           She took one more look at Alfie. Her body ached from the emotional toll he’d caused her. Despite it all, she still yearned for the past days when things had been so simple between them. When they were in love and it didn’t cause such a fuss. Now she felt like she’d been stretched so thin.

           “I’m sorry.” He mumbled quietly so Tommy wouldn’t hear. “I wish it could work. But I’m being realistic, love. You’re better off without me.”

           He pushed her away with his words. Most likely it was his intention all along whether he realized it or not. With him, Ella would know nothing but friction. She wouldn’t know peace. And as much pain, as it caused him, he would rather see her walk away than suffer beside him. It didn’t matter how in love they were. What mattered was how the odds were stacked against them from the very beginning.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye​ @octaviareina​ @mylovelykelsifer​

[halequeenjas]

Class, Sass, and a Little Bass || Evelyn & Jasmine

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @thronesofshadows & @halequeenjas SUMMARY: While visiting the Artesian, Jasmine notices Evelyn seems a bit down. Being the good Samaritan she is, she takes Evelyn out for a night on the town. 

The last time she’d been to the Artesian, Jasmine couldn’t help but notice that Evelyn seemed a bit glum. It was something she decided simply wouldn’t do. She’d insisted that they go out and have a night on the town to help the other woman get in better spirits. Jasmine pulled a few strings with the club owner and had them both on the VIP list. With endless wine and dancing, there was no way Evelyn was going to go stay sad for long. Being responsible adults who weren’t going to drive around town drunk, they had a driver for the evening. This evening, she donned a little red dress with her favorite pair of black Louboutins. Evelyn, of course, was also dressed to the aces and Jasmine linked arms with her. “You’re going to love this place. They have a huge selection of wine and the music is great,” Jasmine assured her friend, “Plus, the saxophone player is totally yummy.”

For someone who liked to pride herself on doing her best to not show emotions, Evelyn knew that recently she had been less successful than usual. Not that she entirely minded when Jasmine had commented on it - the other woman was both a friend and undoubtedly one of Evelyn’s favorite customers, though ever since they’d first hit it off, it felt a bit odd considering her anything but a friend. Which was why she’d so readily agreed to go out for the night when she’d been invited. She was appreciative of anything that helped her get her mind off of everything else. She’d worn an especially flattering black dress and had pulled on a new pair of heels. With a grin, she turned to her friend. “I find myself loving it quite a bit already, though I am certain the company of a lovely friend without a doubt contributes to that.” She bit her lip. “Well, you will have to show me this saxophone player. Though I think we ought to start with drinks. What will you be having?” 

One of the reasons she’d always loved this club was the contagious energy. Nothing like a little swing and fine wine to keep your spirits high. While Jasmine didn’t quite know why Evelyn seemed a bit down, she knew if anyone could bring some cheer, it was her. Whatever it was, she doubted her friend would be down for too long. She was far too beautiful, rich, and sophisticated to stay down. If Jasmine were to wager, she’d say she was already feeling better. She smiled brightly at her friend and responded, “I know you’d love it here. Jazz is so much classier than regular club music… not that I hate the regular clubs, but this dancing actually requires skill. And the wine selection is way better.” She leaned an arm on the bar and gave the bartender her most sparkling grin. “A bottle of Chateau La Tour White Blend, please.” She turned back to Evelyn and added, “I figured we both enjoy wine and white wine has a nice summer-y feel to it. I’m personally trying to enjoy these last bits of summer which I think requires one last pool day. I’ll definitely point out the sax player though I’m sure the whole band will be captivated with us once we start dancing.” Once, the bartender handed them an ice bucket and their wine, she took them in hand and asked, “Do you prefer one of the hightops or one of the sofa lounge tables?” 

“Well, you do know me.” Evelyn grinned. “I agree. I mean, as a former ballet dancer, this is not my typical style, but I do have some practice in it. I have always adored any sort of proper dancing.” She looked over to Jasmine as the other woman ordered a bottle of wine. “You do continue to have excellent taste. No proper offense to most of this town, but why on earth do so few people understand class? Or have properly good taste in anything?” She ran a hand through her hair, letting it fall over her shoulder. “You chose a good one, speaking as the resident wine expert of the two of us. Enjoying summer is an absolute must.” She tapped her red nails against the countertop as she glanced around the bar. “Good, though I agree. I mean, between the two of us, how could anyone think to look away?” At Jasmine’s question, she tapped her fingers against her chin. “I think a lounge table sounds quite nice, personally. If that works for you, that is?”

It was pretty easy for Jasmine to imagine Evelyn dancing ballet. She hadn’t really done it since before she was a teenager, but she’d always preferred jazz dance classes. It was a little more upbeat and fun. “Somehow, it’s no surprise that you’ve done ballet dancing. I did too when I was younger though I enjoyed the jazz classes more,” she started before she grinned wryly and added, “I can lead the way through the jazz dancing.” She set the wine down at the small table in front of the couch. It was a cozy little spot only open to those who made the VIP list. They had a good view of the stage while still maintaining a bit of privacy to chat freely. “Good taste in wine is surprisingly not an automatic, even among wealthy people. One of the richest people I know sent me a bottle of wine for Christmas that was yes, expensive, but just not good. The notes in wine are supposed to be subtle and have finesse. I don’t want my wine to taste like I’m gnawing on a piece of oak,” she noted dramatically. She ended up trashing that bottle of wine, not that her client needed to know that.  “You’re totally right,” she agreed brightly, “It’s nice and cozy over here. Good view of the stage and we still have a bit of freedom to chat amongst ourselves without anyone hearing. Speaking of--” She sneakily pointed to one of the saxophone players. He was wearing a white suit with coral accents and his skin always looked sun kissed like he had just spent a day on the beach… which was a hazard in this town, but a girl could dream of beach days with beautiful people. “That’s the saxophone player I was telling you about. His name is Ray. Not the brightest bulb in the box, but he’s talented and definitely nice to look at.” 

“My mother was in the Royal Ballet, so even though she was not around, I felt drawn to it. A way to be connected to her, I suppose.” Evelyn shrugged again.”You did? Well, perhaps you will have to teach me more sometime. Though for now, I am more than okay with you leading the way.” Sitting down, she took another glance around the club. She appreciated people like Jasmine - people who understood how to appreciate the finer things in life. Though she did not regret leaving London, she did sometimes miss the elegance that came with the city. At least, the parts of it that she had been a part of. “Well, I do own a bar, so I think that gives me a bit of a leg up, but you are correct, money does not guarantee taste in wine. I certainly have horror stories, even from my own bar.” She made a small face. “Oh yuck, that sounds horrible.” Evelyn nodded along to Jasmine’s words, following where she was pointing. “I do appreciate the privacy that it provides. For all I can enjoy showing off, I also enjoy not having my conversations with friends broadcast for the whole world to see.” Crossing her legs, she gave a satisfied nod at the saxophone player. “I can see what you mean. If nothing else, I can always appreciate good looks and good talent.” Evelyn turned to face Jasmine and held up the bottle of wine. “Might I pour you a glass?”

“Wow, talk about incredible. I get wanting to have that connection to her, I’m still just impressed she was in the Royal Ballet,” Jasmine said with wide eyes. With how much Evelyn spent on her home, it was no shock that she came from old money, but still, the Royal Ballet was one hell of a status indicator. It explained the refined elegance that Evelyn seemed to have about her. “Some time might start tonight because especially after some wine, I’ll definitely feel like dancing.” Hanging out with Evelyn was different than most of her high school friends. Even the ones with money weren’t nearly as refined. She had to admit she wasn’t even as much so growing up in American culture. How many classic night club evenings had she had with Bea and Leah? There was something more appealing about this though she wouldn’t trade those late nights closing out the clubs either. She supposed she could enjoy both the finer things in life and the more basic things. She laughed easily and agreed, “Yes, owning the nicest bar in town, I’d hope you have good taste in wine. I've personally never been disappointed with your choices.” It seemed they agreed the saxophone player was nice to look at. Not as nice to look at as either of them, but that was a tall order. “A glass of wine sounds perfect,” she responded with a wide smile. “So,” she started off unable to quell her curiosity, “I know tonight is a fun night, but if you’d like to talk about anything going on, I can be a good listener when I feel like it.” 

“For a few years, yes. It is how she and my father met. She was quite impressive.” Any of that sort of information was surface-level enough - and furthermore, it was information that came up if anyone searched for Evelyn anyhow - and she had very much wanted to be like her mother in many ways, even if being a dancer like her was not the primary one. However, it was one that she could connect with others about, even if they did not have the exact same shared experience. “It would be an honor to dance with you tonight, so please do let me know when it strikes your fancy.” It was nice, having someone like Jasmine around. A valuable, though uncomplicated friendship. Something she found herself craving more and more lately. “I do my research if the occasion calls for it, and while I may have not been a wine expert for years, I have always had good taste in many things, I think, and so it only took a little bit of reading when I decided that this was what the town needed. Thank goodness you both know how to sell the best houses in town and you appreciate my place of business.” She let a small smile cross her lips and she opened the bottle and poured each of them a generous glassful. “Most of all, I am quite pleased to consider you a friend. The others are simply added bonuses.” She took a sip of her wine as she considered Jasmine’s question. “I broke up with the person who I was seeing. Trying to move past that. Clearly not as smoothly as I might have liked. I never saw myself as the sort to react in such a way to romance, after all.”

“Oh my god, that sounds like something out of a rom com,” Jasmine commented somewhat incredulously. She was almost positive her own parents had married for money, not that they didn’t love each other, but it seemed like a primary factor of their marriage. They had both been very business minded. “After some wine and when the perfect song strikes, I’ll do just that.” It was nice to relax a little bit. Before visiting, she had placed wards around the building. She’d helped the owner buy his house and with an exorcism later on, so he had not qualms with her keeping wards up so she could enjoy some Larry Bob free evenings out. Plus, she’d surely have a hard time explaining a poltergeist to what was arguably her most normal friend. And definitely not in an average way. Evelyn was definitely classy and something else, but she didn’t want her thinking she was a freak. She found her fingers drumming along to the upbeat melodies of the trumpet and smiled as Evelyn spoke. “Oh makes sense, we’re still young. Research and learning is always applicable… especially when it comes to wine. And shoes,” she added the last part eagerly. If shoes being a hobby was wrong, Jasmine didn’t want to be right. “I’m pleased you’re my friend as well. The same could be said of you.” Evelyn was particularly great at gift giving, but her company was just as great. She frowned a bit at the mention of a breakup and the way she seemed to scoff at romance. She braced herself with a sip of wine before she said, “Oh, breakups are totally the worst. It’s not like you date people with the intention of ever breaking up, but sometimes it just happens. And hey!” She gave her a small nudge on the arm, “Romance is an okay thing to be sad over, though I’m positive you’ll find your person sooner rather than later. I mean-- you’re hot, you’re rich, you’re smart, you’re classy-- literally anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Believe it or not, you are not the first person to tell me that.” Evelyn grinned. Despite having very little knowledge of actual rom-coms, from all that she did know, her parents’ marriage and meeting did sound like that. The deeper reality was far more complicated, and not something she often got into. Besides, some part of her liked to believe that her parents had been entirely in love up until her father found out about the fact that her mother wasn’t human. It was one of the few amounts of naïvety that she still held fast to. “I look forward to this quite a bit.” This night out was absolutely something that she needed - and though jazz was not normally the sort of music she listened to, Billy did have a fondness for jazz piano playing at the Artesian and so in the past few years she had come to be more aware, and she preferred it to whatever sort of electronic music that she knew was popular at most clubs these days. “We are indeed still young. Besides, why not make things into a learning opportunity. I must admit, I find it especially satisfactory to tell certain customers of mine all about wine, particularly because they rarely expect me to have such deep knowledge, despite owning the place. I have done a fair bit of reading about business and stocks as well, mostly out of spite. I do not like being put down, and if I can show them up when they are acting especially stuck up, all the better.” She took a sip of her wine and offered Jasmine a grin. “I am glad to hear all of that.” She ran a hand through her hair. “They are rather terrible, I must admit.” Evelyn bit her lip. “Well, thank you. You are all of those things and more. I think that in this case, I just thought that my ex was possibly my person. I suppose I do not like to be wrong.” She took another sip of her wine. “Is it wrong to still want to talk to him? Even though I feel mad, and I am certain he feels the same - or rather more certain that he wants to get rid of any memory of me? He left a box at my house with everything I had left by his house.” Evelyn shook her head. “At least I know that I have friends like you,” she gave Jasmine a small nudge back, “who are excellent at knowing just when I need a distraction.”

“Then it must be true,” Jasmine responded happily as she took another sip of the refreshing white wine in front of her. She could only hope her life eventually got its romantic comedy moment, but she wasn’t too worried about it. Outside a pesky poltergeist that wouldn’t leave her alone, she was doing well for herself and was happy with where she was. It only made her happier that Evelyn was all ready to do some jazz dancing with her. There had to be some sort of science somewhere that said it was impossible to be sad when buzzed on white wine and dancing to jazz. If not, maybe she’d fund that study. Her hands made a small clap as she exclaimed, “I love that. It’s always satisfying to surprise people older and more experienced than you with your knowledge. I imagine some of the older men must be the worst about that.” Was she snobby herself? Yes. Snobby old men still annoyed her to no end. Especially the older realtors who thought she didn’t have a place in the business yet still handed off the haunted houses they couldn’t sell to her. Selling them at record speed always showed them. It didn’t erase the annoying factor of having to prove she was worthy of respect. She nodded along as Evelyn spoke about her ex. She could relate easily enough. She had thought Josh was going to be her forever person until she found out about his side fling. If there was one thing she would not stand for, it was cheating. “I get what you mean. It is a crappy feeling to think someone is supposed to be that person for you and then they’re just not,” she said almost wistfully. She finished off her first glass and poured some more for herself. She gestured to see if Evelyn would like more. “Oh, dropping off your stuff is a rough part and I think it makes sense to still want to talk to him. I mean, you were a big part of each other’s lives and it’s hard to shake that, but you have to. Men take that as groveling or wanting them back even if it’s not the case. I take it things ended poorly?” The last part did make her smile a bit. “Glad to be here and bring some cheer.”

“It must be, I suppose.” Evelyn raised an eyebrow at her friend. Focusing on thoughts about her parents was not a good road to go down, particularly not right now. Not when that reminded her too much of everything she sought to ignore - when it provided her with memories of her first anxieties of not belonging. Of that time with her mother’s journals and the look on her father’s face that was forever etched into her memory. “Right? It is the best. Truly.” Making a face at Jasmine’s next comment, Evelyn gave a nod. “Oh, they are. It is particularly delightful when they think they can both hit on me and talk down to me. I remember when I first opened the place that I got to give a good few of them a shock when they found out that I owned the place.” Though she was well-aware that she could be stuck up herself at times, it was never in the same way that some of her customers were. “Exactly.” She forced herself to relax. This wasn’t her bar, and breaking a glass here would not end well - besides, the last thing she wanted was to cut herself and have her utterly delightful though wholly normal friend push her away. Taking in a deep breath, she adjusted her focus back on Jasmine. “Not used to it, I suppose. Though,” she bit her lip, “I mean, I was not exactly raised with the idea that showing all of my emotions is a good thing. So all of this was a bit overwhelming.” She scrunched her nose. “That much is also quite possibly the wine talking. Maybe my tolerance is not what it used to be.” It didn’t stop her from taking another sip before nodding for Jasmine to fill up her glass again. “We were. For four months.” Evelyn shook her head. “Yes, I am not going to give him that. Ended poorly? You could say that. He was not everything I thought he was, and I might have reacted strongly to that. But it is fine. I just worry a bit about running into him in town.” However, Jasmine’s smile brought one of her own across her face. “Glad to have you.” She took another long sip of wine.

Older generations of men really were something else. Jasmine couldn’t easily understand how a woman of any age would be attracted to them, but she assumed it had something to do with their wealth. Was wealth worth the complete loss of self respect? She’d say no and that was saying a lot. “Show them just how smart women can be. Who said we couldn’t have beauty and brains,” she asked playfully. At the mention of these same men hitting on her, Jasmine was not all surprised. For whatever reason, certain men thought mansplaining was attractive or something. It wasn’t. Respect was way more attractive, but some men just needed to feel like they were better than literally everyone. Usually that meant overcompensating. With a laugh, she retorted, “Oh, of course they do! Have to act all mighty and treat you like you’re dumb to show how great they are before they hit on you. Any woman with an ounce of self respect wouldn’t put up with that crap.” As she spoke more of her ex, Jasmine frowned a bit. It was clear she was really going through it and she wanted to go off on a limb and say no man was worth this much distress, but she’d had some rough break ups herself. “I can see that. You seem like a woman who is usually right, but some people are better at hiding who they are which makes it easy to be wrong about them,” she tried to assure. Sage wisdom wasn’t necessarily her forte unless it came to designer clothing and the best makeup products. Life-- well, she’d made a name for herself, but she was still figuring shit out too. They all were. She shook her head, “Hey, we’re all allowed to show emotion from time to time. We’re not robots. I don’t think they’ve figured out how to make robots look this hot just yet.” She cracked a smile at the last part and gestured to them. As suspected, it had ended poorly. “Well, it’s not your fault he wasn’t who you thought he was. Some things can be serious deal breakers and a woman of your standard is bound to have some of those. All I know for sure is you’ll find someone way better for you. I mean, come on, who could resist that Evelyn charm?” She gave her friend another playful nudge and finished off the last of the wine. She took her friend’s hand and said, “Come on, we’re dancing now. Trust me when I say it’s impossible to be sad while dancing to a song with some good swing.” Though Evelyn boasted she was more of a ballet dancer, she caught on quick as Jasmine led them through some moves. The energy seemed to be enough to have Evelyn in mostly good spirits again so Jasmine would consider the night a success.

[dailytomlinson]

After Louis Tomlinson’s recent show in Madrid, some fans got the chance to meet him. One girl wanted to talk to him about his song Two of Us , which he had written after the death of his mother. The girl had lost her dad, and wanted the singer to know how much his lyrics had meant to her. He’d never had that in his band One Direction, he says. “We wrote cool songs, but they were love songs. It only goes so far, and to have someone say that I could help them with my…” He pauses. “It blows my mind, that shit. I was proper proud.”

It has been a hard few years. Tomlinson’s mother died in 2016, just as he was about to launch his first solo single. In March this year, his 18-year-old sister was found unconscious at her flat in London and couldn’t be revived. We will come to that, but, professionally, Tomlinson was struggling too. One Direction – that supernova of a boy band – broke up in 2015. Or announced they were taking a break. Or “‘hiatus’ or whatever word we use”, he says with a smile.

At the time, Tomlinson, now 27, was finding his place as a songwriter. “I wasn’t singing a lot, I wasn’t the frontman. Without being a sorry little bastard, I thought: ‘How do I do better, how do I make something of myself, an identity?’” In the last 18 months of One Direction, he says, “I felt like I knew who I was in the band, and I felt a real worth for who I was.” The break up, he says, “rocked me. I wasn’t ready for it. I felt like I was getting to be a better songwriter, singer, a more confident performer, and all of a sudden, when I felt I was finally getting some momentum …”

We meet at a bar in north London. Tomlinson greets me with a hug as if I am one of his fans (I am not, particularly, although I am by the end). He seems open but not vulnerable, and more self-aware and modest than you would expect from a man who was once part of the biggest boy band in the world. He is friendly and relaxed, dressed in a black tracksuit, with a beer in front of him.

Tomlinson’s personal tragedies also meant his solo career has had a bit of a stop-start quality, but now it looks as if there is focus and momentum. He released his single Kill My Mind earlier this month; an album will follow next year. Kill My Mind is an indie-pop delight, not so huge a departure as to alienate his fanbase, but it sounds like the music he grew up listening to – Oasis and Arctic Monkeys – and his South Yorkshire accent brings more than a hint of Liam Gallagher-style northern vocals. He sounds confident on them, more so than on the previous singles he put out, a couple of fairly forgettable collaborations. “I think, in hindsight, that was me trying to find my place in the industry and making music I thought I had to make to get on radio.

“I had this epiphany when I was thinking about the music I grew up with,” he continues. “I kind of had a bit of a word with myself and worked out what I want – to be happy and proud of what I’m doing. I love those early singles, but I never really felt proud of them, because it didn’t feel too true to me.”

As a child, growing up in Doncaster with his mum Johannah, who raised him alone until she married Tomlinson’s stepfather, he loved performing. “I liked to be the class clown, I liked to make people laugh, to show off, all that.” When his younger twin sisters were cast on TV dramas, he would sometimes go along as their chaperone, earning £30. “Where I’m from, we don’t have anyone who’s been on TV or anything like that, so it was super-exciting,” he says. He ended up picking up work as an extra. “The pinnacle of my acting career was one line on an ITV drama. I don’t even know if they used my scene,” he says with a laugh.

When he was 15, he joined a drama group in Barnsley, which his mum would take him to when she could afford it. “I think I was confused, thinking I wanted to act when actually what I wanted to do was perform.”

At school he joined a band, where they sang Oasis and Green Day covers, and when The X Factor came up, he made it on to the show in 2010 on his third attempt. He queued from 3am to make sure the producers wouldn’t have audition fatigue before they saw him, and he got his goal – to get in front of Simon Cowell “and just have a professional opinion on how I am as a singer. I was so flustered. Going from school performances to performing in front of professionals, TV cameras, a 3,000-strong audience. I wasn’t present. I sang terribly. I remember coming away from it thinking: ‘I wonder if I’ve got through as one of those lads who looks all right but isn’t really a good singer.’”

Yet he ended up in One Direction, the band the show put together in its 2010 series. For six years they sold tens of millions of records, broke America and each made a rumoured £40m-plus fortune. Their fans, Directioners, are another level of devoted. I don’t know how he coped with the attention, or the pressure.

There were really only a few times when it got too much, says Tomlinson. They were in Australia and a local news station had got a helicopter and a photographer was trying to get pictures of Tomlinson in his top-floor hotel room. “I think I was naked, or just in my boxers, and even in my hotel room there was no escape. I could feel the pressure.” He tweeted about it – “your standard bratty celebrity tweet” – and was attacked. “At times it did stress me out but never was I allowed to whinge, allowed to be a human and say: ‘Today has got too much for me.’ I found that difficult at first.”

But he is keen not to sound as if he is complaining. “There was much more positive that outweighed that.” And he never blames the fans for their intensity. Theirs is a special relationship, he says. “So many people have bullshitted about what they feel about the fans, but they’re like family to me.”

Even when Directioners have got a bit too ardent – there is a conspiracy theory, for example, that he and his bandmate Harry Styles have long been in a secret sexual relationship – he seems more bemused by it than annoyed. Although he is wary, he says, of adding “fuel to the fire” by talking about it. “I know, culturally, it’s interesting, but I’m just a bit tired of it,” he says. The HBO drama Euphoria recently showed an animated sequence of Tomlinson and Styles together, as imagined by a smutty fan-fiction writer. Was it annoying that a show had taken something fairly niche and given it new mainstream life? “Again, I get the cultural intention behind that. But I think …” He trails off, trying to work out what he wants to say. “It just felt a little bit … No, I’m not going to lie, I was pissed off. It annoyed me that a big company would get behind it.”

Why does he think he never went off the rails during the band’s heady period? “My mates and my family, really. It’s from my upbringing and where I come from. If I went back to Doncaster and I was dripping in Gucci or whatever, I’d probably get whacked. I’m always very conscious of not acting too big for my boots. It’s the people around me who keep me sane and normal, because they give me insight into real life. Some celebrities, in pop in particular, only surround themselves with amazingness, and all they see is good, good, good, which is lovely, but you don’t understand the real world then. I have the luxury of my mates around me, just reminding me how fucking good I’ve got it, really.”

The day of One Direction’s final concert in November 2015, Tomlinson and his bandmate Niall Horan sat together “and had a little cry, because it was such a journey we had been on. That day in general was so poignant. As much as you try and prepare yourself, it’s a whole other thing when it comes.” Because they had worked so much with few days off, he assumed that a break would be exciting. “But it wasn’t like that. When you’re used to working however many days, it’s all that more evident when you’re not doing something. Especially in the first six months. My life became –and I don’t mean this to sound derogatory – very normal, from being a life of pure craziness.”

At the same time that Tomlinson was trying to work out what to do with himself, his mother, to whom he was intensely close, had been diagnosed with leukaemia; she died in December 2016. He performed his first single on The X Factor just a few days after her death, then seemed to half-heartedly continue with his solo career, releasing another single in 2017. It would be another two years – during which he became a judge on The X Factor – before he released Two of Us, a raw and beautiful (and under-rated) song.

“After I lost my mum, every song I wrote felt, not pathetic, but that it lacked true meaning to me,” he says. “I felt that, as a songwriter, I wasn’t going to move on until I’d written a song like that.” He knew he needed to get it out of him, but there was a lot of pressure – he felt he should be an experienced songwriter before he attempted it. Two songwriters he worked with played him the chorus. “It was like the song I always wished I’d written. I went in and put my personal touch to the verses. It was a real moment for me in my grief, and as part of the creative process, because it felt like it was hanging over me.”

Earlier this month, an inquest found that his sister Félicité had died of an accidental overdose; she had been taking drugs, including anxiety medication, since the death of their mother. He has been through some terrible times, I say, which must put a perspective on a pop career. “Exactly,” he says, a little quieter than before. “That whole dark side I’ve gone through, it sounds stupid to say, but it gives me strength everywhere else in my life, because that’s the darkest shit that I’m going to have to deal with. So it makes everything else, not feel easier and not less important, but, in the grand scheme of things, you see things for what they are, I suppose.”

His fans have been crucial, he says. “I’m sure every artist says this, but I do believe it. We’ve been through some dark times together and those things I’ve been through, they carry a weight, emotionally, on the fans as well. And I felt their love and support. I remember really clearly when I lost my mum, that support was mad.”

What have the experiences of loss he has been through taught him about himself? He thinks for a second. “I keep going back to it, but I don’t know if it’s a combination of where I grew up and my mum’s influence, but I just have this luxury of being able to see the glass half-full no matter what.” He is the oldest of his mother’s seven children, which is grounding and means, he says, “there’s no time for me to be sat feeling sorry for myself. I’ve been to rock bottom and I feel like, whatever my career’s going to throw in front of me, it’s going to be nothing as big or as emotionally heavy as that. So, weirdly, I’ve turned something that’s really dark into something that empowers me, makes me stronger.”

He gets up to go to the toilet, which I think is his polite way of asking me to move on, although when he gets back he says, by way of a final word on the matter, “I don’t want people to feel sorry for me. That’s not how I feel for myself. Somehow it fuels me.”

One Direction will get back together one day, he believes. He still speaks to the others. “We’re not texting each other every day, but what we do have, which will never go away, is this real brothership. We’ve had these experiences that no one else can relate to.”

Styles has become quite the superstar. The others seem to have steady solo careers. Tomlinson says he’s embarrassed to admit that, when he first went solo, he would have been devastated had his album “only” reached No 3, so used is he to everything he did with One Direction going to the top. Is it hard not to measure himself against his former bandmates? “Oh, naturally,” he says. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. I’ve never been competitive like that, but, naturally, you think: ‘If they’re getting this then I deserve that.’ I think, the longer time goes on, I can see it for what it is and just be proud of them.” And success means something else to him now. “It means I’m happy with what I’m doing.”

[halfasleepoetry]

I'd LOVE to read more Archer x Rogerina!!❤ Don't have any specific requests so maybe just something from one of the prompts you have? And I agree, I don't care what Joe's in as long as I get to see more from him!!!

Omg thank you for asking for Archer x Rogerina because I do have something to share that I couldn’t quite fit into the ongoing narrative! So this is not based on a prompt, but since Trip The Light Fantastic is told in Ben’s POV, as I was working on Joe’s character, I wrote his version of that night. And here it is:

I catch you looking back at me, looking through a cloud of steam

Archer x Rogerina AU, Joe’s POV

Right before senior year began, Joe had just broken up with his then-girlfriend who was cheating on him with a mutual friend for almost as long as they were together. That was enough to put him off any kind of relationships for a while. Besides, he thought he’d give being completely and truly single, a try. He kind of miss the sex and occasional cuddling, not that he’s particularly the cuddling type, but it’s nice to have a warm someone in bed and not wake up cold and alone sometimes. But to compare that with the kind of serenity and peace he has now and the headaches he saved, he’d rather keep being single, thank you. He has more time than ever now to read and write and drive by himself, and he has even started dancing regularly again.

And then there’s the Halloween party at the Maleks’. It’s the kind of party that all seniors go to, many juniors get invited to, and selected few sophomores could get in by miracle, and freshman could only dream of going. Maybe next year, or the year after. The host of such a party is always that one kid in the senior year who is filthy rich and you’re lucky if he isn’t an asshole who also buys his way through college. Well Joe sure is lucky. That kid, or those kids, because there are two of them, are his childhood best friends, Rami and Sami, whose father is a rich Egyptian-American business tycoon who moved to New York and built himself a business empire working closely with the Arabs and their oil in the 80s. 

It was last year that Rami told him he has his eyes on a certain London girl who is majoring in arts together with Joe, who is in her sophomore year. Her name is Lucy. Of course Joe knows her. Joe knows everyone. It comes with being occasionally recognized as that kid from Jurassic Park, and every time one of his professors brought up the fact we have someone in the class who is here on the personal recommendation of Steven Spielberg, he would slowly slide down his seat a little, hoping the remark would remain just a remark, and it would be forgotten by the end of the class. Sometimes it works exactly like how he wants it to be, sometimes it doesn’t. Either way, it earns him a reputation that he plays down and many friends, no, a large group of people he socializes with regularly. So he is some kind of a popular kid too, although a somewhat reluctant one. 

The Maleks’ mansion is pretty much his second home, and he was in his element that night, having accepted Lucy’s dare to show up in a girl’s character costume, and she even volunteered to do his make up, on one condition; no glitter involved. She did manage to put on something metallic-hued on his eyelids though, because he looked in the mirror and his eyes sparkled subtly whenever he blinks. Lucy had shrugged it off and told him, it wouldn’t be too noticeable, the house would be dim and there would be light strobes instead of actual lighting.

Lucy smiled up at him as she gave his make up, her handiwork, its last touch. “My goodness, you’re beautiful,” she marvelled. “Don’t make me change my mind, Luce,” he warned her. “No, don’t!” Lucy protested hurriedly. “No, no, no. Now let’s go.” But not before she stopped one last time to take a selfie with Joe, no, the Archer.

His Archer costume was a hit, apparently. But he made it very clear that he’s there just to enjoy the company of himself. And dance like mad, which was great because he had gotten back at it and been practicing for a while now. And that’s when he saw Rogerina. One sulky Rogerina who was drinking beer alone and trying not to look like he’s staring when he pretty obviously was doing exactly that. Joe thought that they look kind of wildly different, him and Rogerina who has a more muscular build and moody-boyish look. He even stood with his legs apart, chugging his beer with one hand on his hip, not even trying to appear feminine. But even across the room, Joe could feel his eyes on him, and they’re crazy-intense. He didn’t even know how to describe it, but he had never been stared at like that since he was five and sitting in an audition for Stanley Kubrick. 

He thought about it, but Rogerina obviously isn’t one of the people he knows, because he knows everyone here. Almost. Let’s find out who you are, Rogerina, he thought as one of his favourite songs came on, and he danced to it with an added flair, his moves all smooth and pronounced. Rogerina kept staring even as he made his way to Rami and Lucy. Lucy asked him if he’s murdering people on the dancefloor, and he just laughed it off. He headed to the kitchen to retrieve some rum he knew is kept somewhere safe and away from casual partygoers, half-hoping Rogerina would follow him there. And he wasn’t disappointed. Well he had to talk with Chace first, and the first thing Chace said to him was, “Hey there gorgeous.” 

“Asshole.” He laughed him off, because he knew Chace well. He’s always trying to get into someone’s pants, gorgeous girls or boys alike. They’ve fooled around before, but decided it’s better to remain friends as they are now. They talked shop and laughed, but from the corner of his eyes he could see Rogerina approaching the kitchen. He had never wanted a friend to disappear so fast before. And he’s glad when Chace decided to go looking for pretty girls at the pool.

The masked hesitation he could sense in Rogerina’s voice as he said hi to him was cute, to say the least. When was the last time he had been chased after like this? He was so determined too. He told him he came looking for a light for his cigarette. Classic excuse. He has a deep voice, British accent, and a very boyish smile. Definitely not a senior, maybe not even from the same department. He’d have remembered someone like him. Joe found himself looking into green eyes as Rogerina stepped closer to him to light up his cigarette from the mini kitchen lighter he was holding. He smelled nice, with a faint hint of aftershave. He wondered if he’d taste like beer and cigarette and something entirely different or surprising.

Mint, Joe thought later as they began kissing and he’s savouring the blonde’s lips. The cigarette he lit up earlier must be his first, as the taste was very faint, and it soon disappeared. The bitterness of malt and mint on his tongue fits right in with the Coke and rum sweetness on his own. 

Rogerina kissed him like he meant it, like the persistence by which he went after him to the kitchen, which found him pressing the sides of his knees on Rogerina’s hips, and that’s when he found the lighter innocently tucked in the side pocket of his skirt. He wasn’t even surprised, but he was absolutely delighted at the thought of this green-eyed British boy going after him and cooking up a lie to flirt with him. Makes him want to give him exactly what he wanted, and set him on fire while doing so. So he kissed him deeper, tongue all the way in, a hand in hair and another on his back, gripping him through the white shirt. He pushed himself forward and closer, so Rogerina could touch more of his exposed thigh. There’s growing heat at the base of his guts, and he slid even closer to give friction to it, and that’s when he realized they’re both hard.

Holy shit, he thought, and almost immediately wanted, no, needed more of this delicious friction. They’re separated by layers of fabrics, but fuck if this doesn’t feel so good, kissing a boy indecently in an open space, pushing and rubbing against each other fully clothed while the sound of the party droned on in the near distance. There’s no way this would not look exactly like what it was, and the thought of anyone potentially walking in on them is an incredible turn-on.

But Joe did pull away from Rogerina, mainly because he did not actually want anyone to walk in on them, and he needed to at least get a name. “Ben,” he told him in between breaths, eyes still transfixed on his lips. He looked like he was dazed and drunk, or somewhere in between. They were kissing again in no time, and when Joe deliberately pushed himself against Ben as he slid down the kitchen counter, they both moaned loudly into the kiss, and he almost lost his mind a little. They’re fast becoming like magnets, one gravitating to the other as soon as they pull away. He wanted to get his hands everywhere on Ben, wanted to touch him, kiss him, make him moan his name. They were strangers barely ten minutes ago, it’s so fucking insane, but there’s nothing else he’d want more right now than this green-eyed Brit in Rogerina costume. But not just yet.

So he smiled sweetly to him when he asked him nicely if he’d want to get out of the party with him, and he thought there’s no way he’d say no to that. They were kissing slower now, heartbeat calmer, desire kept in check. He held his hand close, making sure he wouldn’t change his mind. Something’s telling him he needed to do this right. This isn’t just a party hook-up, a fooling around kind of fun.

That same something’s also telling him he’s hooked, and it felt headier and sweeter than anything he’d drank tonight.

So when they did get out of the party, not before he caught Rami for the barest seconds to say goodbye, surprisingly without Lucy by his side, he decided they’re not going immediately to his place. He still has Ben’s hand in his, and he’s looking at him and smiling with his lucid green eyes and Joe wondered if it felt a little bit more than just infatuation or hormones. He thought about how ridiculous it was to think of it as anything more than what it was, but it lingered on long after.

[hlupdate]

Louis’ full interview for The Guardian - 25/09/19

After Louis Tomlinson’s recent show in Madrid, some fans got the chance to meet him. One girl wanted to talk to him about his song Two of Us , which he had written after the death of his mother. The girl had lost her dad, and wanted the singer to know how much his lyrics had meant to her. He’d never had that in his band One Direction, he says. “We wrote cool songs, but they were love songs. It only goes so far, and to have someone say that I could help them with my …” He pauses. “It blows my mind, that shit. I was proper proud.” It has been a hard few years. Tomlinson’s mother died in 2016, just as he was about to launch his first solo single. In March this year, his 18-year-old sister was found unconscious at her flat in London and couldn’t be revived. We will come to that, but, professionally, Tomlinson was struggling too. One Direction - that supernova of a boy band - broke up in 2015. Or announced they were taking a break. Or “‘hiatus’ or whatever word we use”, he says with a smile. At the time, Tomlinson, now 27, was finding his place as a songwriter. “I wasn’t singing a lot, I wasn’t the frontman. Without being a sorry little bastard, I thought: ‘How do I do better, how do I make something of myself, an identity?’” In the last 18 months of One Direction, he says, “I felt like I knew who I was in the band, and I felt a real worth for who I was.” The break up, he says, “rocked me. I wasn’t ready for it. I felt like I was getting to be a better songwriter, singer, a more confident performer, and all of a sudden, when I felt I was finally getting some momentum …” We meet at a bar in north London. Tomlinson greets me with a hug as if I am one of his fans (I am not, particularly, although I am by the end). He seems open but not vulnerable, and more self-aware and modest than you would expect from a man who was once part of the biggest boy band in the world. He is friendly and relaxed, dressed in a black tracksuit, with a beer in front of him. Tomlinson’s personal tragedies also meant his solo career has had a bit of a stop-start quality, but now it looks as if there is focus and momentum. He released his single Kill My Mind earlier this month; an album will follow next year. Kill My Mind is an indie-pop delight, not so huge a departure as to alienate his fanbase, but it sounds like the music he grew up listening to - Oasis and Arctic Monkeys - and his South Yorkshire accent brings more than a hint of Liam Gallagher-style northern vocals. He sounds confident on them, more so than on the previous singles he put out, a couple of fairly forgettable collaborations. “I think, in hindsight, that was me trying to find my place in the industry and making music I thought I had to make to get on radio. “I had this epiphany when I was thinking about the music I grew up with,” he continues. “I kind of had a bit of a word with myself and worked out what I want - to be happy and proud of what I’m doing. I love those early singles, but I never really felt proud of them, because it didn’t feel too true to me.” As a child, growing up in Doncaster with his mum Johannah, who raised him alone until she married Tomlinson’s stepfather, he loved performing. “I liked to be the class clown, I liked to make people laugh, to show off, all that.” When his younger twin sisters were cast on TV dramas, he would sometimes go along as their chaperone, earning £30. “Where I’m from, we don’t have anyone who’s been on TV or anything like that, so it was super-exciting,” he says. He ended up picking up work as an extra. “The pinnacle of my acting career was one line on an ITV drama. I don’t even know if they used my scene,” he says with a laugh. When he was 15, he joined a drama group in Barnsley, which his mum would take him to when she could afford it. “I think I was confused, thinking I wanted to act when actually what I wanted to do was perform.” At school he joined a band, where they sang Oasis and Green Day covers, and when The X Factor came up, he made it on to the show in 2010 on his third attempt. He queued from 3am to make sure the producers wouldn’t have audition fatigue before they saw him, and he got his goal - to get in front of Simon Cowell “and just have a professional opinion on how I am as a singer. I was so flustered. Going from school performances to performing in front of professionals, TV cameras, a 3,000-strong audience. I wasn’t present. I sang terribly. I remember coming away from it thinking: ‘I wonder if I’ve got through as one of those lads who looks all right but isn’t really a good singer.’”

One Direction in 2012 (from left): Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne and Harry Styles. Photograph: IBL/Rex Shutterstock Yet he ended up in One Direction, the band the show put together in its 2010 series. For six years they sold tens of millions of records, broke America and each made a rumoured £40m-plus fortune. Their fans, Directioners, are another level of devoted. I don’t know how he coped with the attention, or the pressure. There were really only a few times when it got too much, says Tomlinson. They were in Australia and a local news station had got a helicopter and a photographer was trying to get pictures of Tomlinson in his top-floor hotel room. “I think I was naked, or just in my boxers, and even in my hotel room there was no escape. I could feel the pressure.” He tweeted about it - “your standard bratty celebrity tweet” - and was attacked. “At times it did stress me out but never was I allowed to whinge, allowed to be a human and say: ‘Today has got too much for me.’ I found that difficult at first.” But he is keen not to sound as if he is complaining. “There was much more positive that outweighed that.” And he never blames the fans for their intensity. Theirs is a special relationship, he says. “So many people have bullshitted about what they feel about the fans, but they’re like family to me.” Even when Directioners have got a bit too ardent - there is a conspiracy theory, for example, that he and his bandmate Harry Styles have long been in a secret sexual relationship - he seems more bemused by it than annoyed. Although he is wary, he says, of adding “fuel to the fire” by talking about it. “I know, culturally, it’s interesting, but I’m just a bit tired of it,” he says. The HBO drama Euphoria recently showed an animated sequence of Tomlinson and Styles together, as imagined by a smutty fan-fiction writer. Was it annoying that a show had taken something fairly niche and given it new mainstream life? “Again, I get the cultural intention behind that. But I think …” He trails off, trying to work out what he wants to say. “It just felt a little bit … No, I’m not going to lie, I was pissed off. It annoyed me that a big company would get behind it.” Why does he think he never went off the rails during the band’s heady period? “My mates and my family, really. It’s from my upbringing and where I come from. If I went back to Doncaster and I was dripping in Gucci or whatever, I’d probably get whacked. I’m always very conscious of not acting too big for my boots. It’s the people around me who keep me sane and normal, because they give me insight into real life.” He lives with his girlfriend, Eleanor and his best friend, Oli. “Some celebrities, in pop in particular, only surround themselves with amazingness, and all they see is good, good, good, which is lovely, but you don’t understand the real world then. I have the luxury of my mates around me, just reminding me how fucking good I’ve got it, really.”

With his mother, Johannah, in 2015. Photograph: Dave J Hogan/Getty Images The day of One Direction’s final concert in November 2015, Tomlinson and his bandmate Niall Horan sat together “and had a little cry, because it was such a journey we had been on. That day in general was so poignant. As much as you try and prepare yourself, it’s a whole other thing when it comes.” Because they had worked so much with few days off, he assumed that a break would be exciting. “But it wasn’t like that. When you’re used to working however many days, it’s all that more evident when you’re not doing something. Especially in the first six months.” He spent time in Los Angeles with his son, who was born in 2016, after his relationship with a stylist, Briana Jungwirth. “My life became -and I don’t mean this to sound derogatory - very normal, from being a life of pure craziness.” At the same time that Tomlinson was trying to work out what to do with himself, his mother, to whom he was intensely close, had been diagnosed with leukaemia; she died in December 2016. He performed his first single on The X Factor just a few days after her death, then seemed to half-heartedly continue with his solo career, releasing another single in 2017. It would be another two years - during which he became a judge on The X Factor - before he released Two of Us, a raw and beautiful (and under-rated) song. “After I lost my mum, every song I wrote felt, not pathetic, but that it lacked true meaning to me,” he says. “I felt that, as a songwriter, I wasn’t going to move on until I’d written a song like that.” He knew he needed to get it out of him, but there was a lot of pressure - he felt he should be an experienced songwriter before he attempted it. Two songwriters he worked with played him the chorus. “It was like the song I always wished I’d written. I went in and put my personal touch to the verses. It was a real moment for me in my grief, and as part of the creative process, because it felt like it was hanging over me.” Earlier this month, an inquest found that his sister Félicité had died of an accidental overdose; she had been taking drugs, including anxiety medication, since the death of their mother. He has been through some terrible times, I say, which must put a perspective on a pop career. “Exactly,” he says, a little quieter than before. “That whole dark side I’ve gone through, it sounds stupid to say, but it gives me strength everywhere else in my life, because that’s the darkest shit that I’m going to have to deal with. So it makes everything else, not feel easier and not less important, but, in the grand scheme of things, you see things for what they are, I suppose.” His fans have been crucial, he says. “I’m sure every artist says this, but I do believe it. We’ve been through some dark times together and those things I’ve been through, they carry a weight, emotionally, on the fans as well. And I felt their love and support. I remember really clearly when I lost my mum, that support was mad.” What have the experiences of loss he has been through taught him about himself? He thinks for a second. “I keep going back to it, but I don’t know if it’s a combination of where I grew up and my mum’s influence, but I just have this luxury of being able to see the glass half-full no matter what.” He is the oldest of his mother’s seven children, which is grounding and means, he says, “there’s no time for me to be sat feeling sorry for myself. I’ve been to rock bottom and I feel like, whatever my career’s going to throw in front of me, it’s going to be nothing as big or as emotionally heavy as that. So, weirdly, I’ve turned something that’s really dark into something that empowers me, makes me stronger.” He gets up to go to the toilet, which I think is his polite way of asking me to move on, although when he gets back he says, by way of a final word on the matter, “I don’t want people to feel sorry for me. That’s not how I feel for myself. Somehow it fuels me.”

1D face the fans: the band’s last performance was in 2015. Photograph: Sportsphoto Ltd/Allstar One Direction will get back together one day, he believes. He still speaks to the others. “We’re not texting each other every day, but what we do have, which will never go away, is this real brothership. We’ve had these experiences that no one else can relate to.” Styles has become quite the superstar. The others seem to have steady solo careers. Tomlinson says he’s embarrassed to admit that, when he first went solo, he would have been devastated had his album “only” reached No 3, so used is he to everything he did with One Direction going to the top. Is it hard not to measure himself against his former bandmates? “Oh, naturally,” he says. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. I’ve never been competitive like that, but, naturally, you think: ‘If they’re getting this then I deserve that.’ I think, the longer time goes on, I can see it for what it is and just be proud of them.” And success means something else to him now. “It means I’m happy with what I’m doing.” Kill My Mind, by Louis Tomlinson, is out now on Arista. His debut album will be released in 2020

[jojoreadwhat]

i'm the best book you'll never read / honey & smoke - m.h. x OFC story

Lucy's POV.

It's been a weekend and three days since Matty tried kissing me under the stars. His breath still a lingering scent that wouldn't subside, so close to my pale skin. Laced with the red wine shared between us and the minty menthol he had threw before hovering over me. Sending this racing chill through my body that was fitting with the warmth of the wine I had consumed. His dark chocolate eyes like daggers against my crystal blues, tracing my face like transparent paper. A scene that wouldn't leave, a scene I was wish I played into instead of pause.

The words replaying in the savory tone of Matty's thick accent, 'You're not one of them' his calloused index finger running over my forehead. Moving the little strand dancing across it. 'Not in the slightest.'  Watching as his rare lips, so defined and gloss-like. Curl into this unconventional smile that was so.. inviting.

I sighed to myself, opening my eyes to the window with the picture perfect scene. Lightly shaking my head to possible mistake I had made. His strange absence painting the bigger picture that all was not the truth, that I was different in that moment. Only because I wanted more grammar rather than the tongue tied language he wanted to perform.

It was best to keep it a subtle memory, keeping me at bay for all the wonders I was expected to see in London. Matty was just an introduction to it all, starting the carpet that would lead me to all I was hoping to find here. Experience.

I looked down at my leather bound in my lap, writing the finishings of my entry before reading the watch on my wrist. Today is my first day working in the university's library. I buckled the strap of my journal, throwing it into my bag before grabbing another coffee for the walk.

++

I walked to the west wing of campus to the building separated from the rest of it, I swear the library for this campus was bigger than two mansions. Three floors full of magic aligned each shelf. A different world for a different day of the week. The smell ventilating so much that I could catch it into a jar like you would sand on a foreign beach.  

I clocked in, placing my belongings into a locker in the back. I bent down to fix the buckle of my mary jane's, before I stood in front of a community mirror. Straightening out my navy and green plaid skirt, readjusting the black tulip hem shirt following the placing of my lanyard over my neck.

Taking a breath, before going to look for my supervisor, Matilda. Blonde long haired woman approaching her fifties. Blue eyes similar to mine and this angelic face that you only seen in those old Victorian paintings in museums. With a very laid back style, a different patterned skirt everytime I seen her during study hall. Loaded with different amounts of jewelry, and smelling of fresh eucalyptus.

She was marking books with little color tags on their linings. Separating them from different genres. I lightly tapped her because you know the rules of libraries, six inch voices. She spun around with a warming smile, kind of like the one my mom gave.

"Ah, Ms. Collins. It's your first day!" She exclaimed ever so quietly.  Placing her arm around my shoulders blades as she directed me. Her light embrace warming me heavily, "I've been looking forward to working with you."

--------------------------------------------

Matty's POV.

I stood at the counter of Rocket Records as each strike of the clock moved and people browsed through the plastic wraps of wonders. I was in the mist of heading to uni when James called in a frantic. Ryan, the morning shift had an emergency to attend too. Taking me out of the terrible excuse of books and lectures. So I could stare at the girl a few rows in front.

Friday kept replaying in my head.

The way she danced to the strums of my guitar. The way her face squinted after her first sip of her drink. Her refreshed skin glistening against the neons as she came out of the ladies room. Her little hand in mine as I led her on the outskirts, buying cheap wine to watch the street lights and stars make align in her eyes. That laugh cascade over the sounds of the stale city, making it ever so bright in the night. The way she was so small laying slightly beneath me, how every bit of the details etched on her face. Were what she considered flawed, but to I so beautiful blended. Lastly how guarded her valuable heart was as her small hands barely amounted to the strong opinions running from her mouth.

I smirked in thought at the way her eyes widened when I didn't move my stance. Which them open from fear she was trying to have subside, to the curiosity of why I was still lying there. Showing that what I remarked back was the most truth I had ever spoken. She was not the red head in the bar when she seen her hands resting around me. Not the blonde that left my flat the day I found Lucy in my Creative Writings class. She was Lucy. Lucy Collins, a girl with lines to read and understand.

The little bell over the door had rang, my two friends and bandmates Ross and Adam peering from the sunny autumn breeze. Holding bags of clanking bottles and snacks as they rested them on the counter in front of me.

"It's Wednesday." I reminded. Very aware of the events taking place tonight.

Ross looked at me taken back on my greetings. "It's two days till Friday. We are just preparing." He replied, Adam chiming in beside him with a chuckle. I sighed to myself, taking the tagging gun and running along a pile.

"Is it a big one?" I asked, my mind flooding with papers due and studying to do. As much as I would be usually stoked for the midnight ride, I wasn't feeling it much.

Adam shook his head, "Preparing remember?" He remarked, resting his arms on the counter. "It's just enough for good food, good tunes and some nice company." He added, picking up a record.

"Plus, we think you should invite Lucy." Ross added once more, "She's quite the catch."

For my usual laid back, very unreadable expressions. I could feel the curl in my cheeks with only the truth filling the room. She's a definitely a catch. A catch so difficult to grasp.

----------------------------------------------

Lucy's POV.

Matilda had directed to me the front desk, giving me light duty today because we were pretty swamped. It was the middle of the next week now and there was essays and exams due. I felt all the same pain, I had a double whammy of exams on Friday that I was dreading to bits.

I worked with the computer, helping my fellow classmates if we had books available or if they had been checked out. It was definitely a sucky job, I hated the feeling knowing you didn't get to a book in time. It was like getting to class late... And naked to top it off.

Eventually it had died down. Matilda was now at the desk with me, eating peanuts and checking library check out slips.

"So Ms. Collins. What are you studying?" She asked, during my interview it was cut short so she didn't get to ask about why this American was in London.

I helped check slips with her, "Literature. I write." I explained, I didn't really have a direction when it came to what type of writing I was studying. I took up creative writing and women studies as extras cause many books I read were along those lines. But honestly, I just wanted anything to everything about writing at my fingertips. Writing never had directions, just flows.

She seemed pleased, "My daughter is a writer too." She went on, looking just like her I bet, pretty long blonde hair, taking the world by storm.  Writing about experiences she had and was experiencing things as we spoke. Wearing a coat of many colors without any shame. That would be a level I'd like to reach after this.

"I bet you have great stories." She continued, I smiled at her positivity. She had no idea that I only had a first kiss in Junior high and talked to a homeless guy once or twice. All my experiences being so blah and that standing in this library. In a place so new, was more exciting than all of them combined. "I bet he knows that too." She added once more, my face immediately flustering into confusion.

She smiled at my questioning look of her mentions. "He was here a few days ago when you had picked up My Life On The Road." She explaining more specifically, "His eyes were all over you more than the book in his hands."

She went on to describing him but I didn't need more, instead I was beginning to feel more guilt than I already had. Totally judging him by his past when mine was just a sheet of lined paper. Jotted with scarce notes that never even made it to the market, just a list of things I never did.

++

Matilda set the alarm before locking the doors and saying goodnight. Day one of work had been surprisingly smooth than I expected. Leaving me now with enough energy of diving into textbooks and paperbacks of my own. Excited for the fresh bottle of pumpkin spice creamer in the fridge, the Coldplay record that was delivered to the house via email and the half eaten tub of apple crisp flavored ice cream. Waiting to be devoured in the freezer hidden behind the stack of frozen peas.

With the unlikely exciting things to be thrilled about for some when getting home. I retraced the familiar route to the tube that would lead me to my happy events of the night. The mixed aromas of firewood and the brisk winds tickling my nose, I went to slip in my headphones. Finishing from the middle of Moose Blood when the voice I kept hearing replay in my mind. Was now colliding against the autumn winds.

"Hey Blue." His voice sliding down my spine like ice.

Leaning against his car that was dark like the sky above. His hands in the green army jacket over the white and blue of his flannel, edging out all the tone of his build. His black infamous holed jeans meeting at the bottom where his vans were crossed. Casually playing the aesthetic he walked.

I walked towards to him, stopping two feet but only itching to get closer.

"How did you know I was here?" I asked with his absence from Creative Writing remained on my mind.

He smirked, probably mentally preparing for all the questions to roll off my tongue like a ball on the ground. "Abby told me that you were working." He replied, surprised that he went looking for me in the first place.

"Were you hoping I fetched your homework?" I remarked. My mind immediately regretting the bantering remark.

He shook his head, "No." looking down at his shoes. "I was hoping to catch you." Before his brown eyes met mine again, even with the indigo that surrounded us. They were so bright, golds so prominent like the moon dancing with stars.

"The boys and I are having a party tonight." He said, "I was hoping you could stop by."

My mind playing tricks splitting like a Gemini on a off day, one part wanting to cover my face with apple crisp ice cream. The other was Matty opening the door to the passenger seat of his car.

++

The party was smaller than I had thought about on the drive here. Just a handful of friends, good brews and fresh tunes.

Matty grabbed me a drink before grabbing my hand and pulling me to the dance floor. I was never much for parties or the way my hips move off beat. But for Matty's hands to lay on my waist as his wine breath danced along the skin of my neck. I was fabricating more ways in my head for this feeling to be more frequent. The past thoughts of earlier as I was dealing with guilt for Friday. Were beginning to feel sighs of reliefs with all the words Matty babbled and the laughs he caused to ripple against the music.

More people started coming in from the yard, changing the vibe and it was getting more difficult to listen to Matty talk. Finding the words that would fall so easily were being replaced by nods and smiles. Trying to hint a bit that it was beginning to be crowded and he was all I wanted to listen too.

"Let's go to my room." He slightly slurred without waiting for a response, his hand moving from the fabric resting on my waist. Now running along into my hand as he moved through the crowd till we reached stairs.

He turned the knob of a door covered in nonsense stickers of bands till we entered his room. The room loosely matched his door, posters in multiple different sizes overlapping, collages, and a tapestry of different faces he admired plaster on the walls. I looked around, Matty turning on a lamp on his nightstand before sitting on his bed. Silently watching me as I silently observed the things that hadn't fallen from his mouth.

I chuckled to myself as I counted a few more pictures of Prince than Michael Jackson. The first week of his friendliness and his one man protest of who was better coming to mind. "You really think Michael Jackson is better?" I recanted, pointing out some of the snippets of articles I had found. "Okay, maybe. But Prince definitely has killer style." He replied as I shook my head in amusement. Trailing my eyes to the colorful bookshelf with bold names seeping. Picking up Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman. A book I had all intentions of picking up in the bookstore back home, but it never made it to the register.

The sound of a lighter clicking as Matty lit his menthol was followed with his towering figuration standing from his gray duvet covered bed.

"Ever read it?" He asked, the cigarette moving with every curl of his lip. Wrapping his fingers around it as he pulled it away to exhale. I shook my head, a look of surprise gracing his face. The English major failing to read a book that fallen between cracks and rolled up lists.

I watched as he brought the cigarette back to his perfectly formed lips, inhaling once before exhaling into a question. "Do you remember your first English class?" He began, middle school replaying in my mind, Ms. Lindsay's pretty floral dress, the posters aligning the walls with every author you could imagine. She was a big part of my decision of devoting my life into words, journals and novels.

Matty's voice breaking me from my memory, "Remember when they taught you to never judge a book by it's cover?" He added, I looked back down at the book that was falling to pieces, the cover was beginning to wear and the colors becoming stale. "Even if it's a over read story or just a plot you'll never fully understand?" Inhaling once again, "Or just a author with too much exposure?" I ran my fingers over it's folded pages, the old and fresh notes made in the indents.

All his questions beginning to connect like the lining of the book. Matty was a book, folded at it's edges, full of knowledge and secrets some old from past lives, some new. Over read like the one in my hands.

I looked up at Matty who was beginning to raise his hand to take another swing of his cigarette. I had other ideas when I gently grabbed his wrist before I reached up and met his lips with mine. He was taken back my sudden action, making two of us. I was nervous about what I had begun but it all subsided when his hands wrapped around my waist. Pulling me closer, tasting what I was about to guard myself from, like he was a banned book that I was going to go through all lengths to read.

[louistomlinsoncouk]

Louis Tomlinson on loss and love: ‘The dark side I’ve been through gives me strength’

The One Direction singer has had to battle a series of personal tragedies while launching his solo career. And it’s his fans and friends who have kept him going.

After Louis Tomlinson’s recent show in Madrid, some fans got the chance to meet him. One girl wanted to talk to him about his song Two of Us , which he had written after the death of his mother. The girl had lost her dad, and wanted the singer to know how much his lyrics had meant to her. He’d never had that in his band One Direction, he says. “We wrote cool songs, but they were love songs. It only goes so far, and to have someone say that I could help them with my …” He pauses. “It blows my mind, that shit. I was proper proud.”

It has been a hard few years. Tomlinson’s mother died in 2016, just as he was about to launch his first solo single. In March this year, his 18-year-old sister was found unconscious at her flat in London and couldn’t be revived. We will come to that, but, professionally, Tomlinson was struggling too. One Direction – that supernova of a boy band – broke up in 2015. Or announced they were taking a break. Or “‘hiatus’ or whatever word we use”, he says with a smile.

At the time, Tomlinson, now 27, was finding his place as a songwriter. “I wasn’t singing a lot, I wasn’t the frontman. Without being a sorry little bastard, I thought: ‘How do I do better, how do I make something of myself, an identity?’” In the last 18 months of One Direction, he says, “I felt like I knew who I was in the band, and I felt a real worth for who I was.” The break up, he says, “rocked me. I wasn’t ready for it. I felt like I was getting to be a better songwriter, singer, a more confident performer, and all of a sudden, when I felt I was finally getting some momentum …”

We meet at a bar in north London. Tomlinson greets me with a hug as if I am one of his fans (I am not, particularly, although I am by the end). He seems open but not vulnerable, and more self-aware and modest than you would expect from a man who was once part of the biggest boy band in the world. He is friendly and relaxed, dressed in a black tracksuit, with a beer in front of him.

Tomlinson’s personal tragedies also meant his solo career has had a bit of a stop-start quality, but now it looks as if there is focus and momentum. He released his single Kill My Mind earlier this month; an album will follow next year. Kill My Mind is an indie-pop delight, not so huge a departure as to alienate his fanbase, but it sounds like the music he grew up listening to – Oasis and Arctic Monkeys – and his South Yorkshire accent brings more than a hint of Liam Gallagher-style northern vocals. He sounds confident on them, more so than on the previous singles he put out, a couple of fairly forgettable collaborations. “I think, in hindsight, that was me trying to find my place in the industry and making music I thought I had to make to get on radio.

“I had this epiphany when I was thinking about the music I grew up with,” he continues. “I kind of had a bit of a word with myself and worked out what I want – to be happy and proud of what I’m doing. I love those early singles, but I never really felt proud of them, because it didn’t feel too true to me.”

As a child, growing up in Doncaster with his mum Johannah, who raised him alone until she married Tomlinson’s stepfather, he loved performing. “I liked to be the class clown, I liked to make people laugh, to show off, all that.” When his younger twin sisters were cast on TV dramas, he would sometimes go along as their chaperone, earning £30. “Where I’m from, we don’t have anyone who’s been on TV or anything like that, so it was super-exciting,” he says. He ended up picking up work as an extra. “The pinnacle of my acting career was one line on an ITV drama. I don’t even know if they used my scene,” he says with a laugh.

When he was 15, he joined a drama group in Barnsley, which his mum would take him to when she could afford it. “I think I was confused, thinking I wanted to act when actually what I wanted to do was perform.”

At school he joined a band, where they sang Oasis and Green Day covers, and when The X Factor came up, he made it on to the show in 2010 on his third attempt. He queued from 3am to make sure the producers wouldn’t have audition fatigue before they saw him, and he got his goal – to get in front of Simon Cowell “and just have a professional opinion on how I am as a singer. I was so flustered. Going from school performances to performing in front of professionals, TV cameras, a 3,000-strong audience. I wasn’t present. I sang terribly. I remember coming away from it thinking: ‘I wonder if I’ve got through as one of those lads who looks all right but isn’t really a good singer.’”

Yet he ended up in One Direction, the band the show put together in its 2010 series. For six years they sold tens of millions of records, broke America and each made a rumoured £40m-plus fortune. Their fans, Directioners, are another level of devoted. I don’t know how he coped with the attention, or the pressure.

There were really only a few times when it got too much, says Tomlinson. They were in Australia and a local news station had got a helicopter and a photographer was trying to get pictures of Tomlinson in his top-floor hotel room. “I think I was naked, or just in my boxers, and even in my hotel room there was no escape. I could feel the pressure.” He tweeted about it – “your standard bratty celebrity tweet” – and was attacked. “At times it did stress me out but never was I allowed to whinge, allowed to be a human and say: ‘Today has got too much for me.’ I found that difficult at first.”

But he is keen not to sound as if he is complaining. “There was much more positive that outweighed that.” And he never blames the fans for their intensity. Theirs is a special relationship, he says. “So many people have bullshitted about what they feel about the fans, but they’re like family to me.”

Even when Directioners have got a bit too ardent – there is a conspiracy theory, for example, that he and his bandmate Harry Styles have long been in a secret sexual relationship – he seems more bemused by it than annoyed. Although he is wary, he says, of adding “fuel to the fire” by talking about it. “I know, culturally, it’s interesting, but I’m just a bit tired of it,” he says. The HBO drama Euphoria recently showed an animated sequence of Tomlinson and Styles together, as imagined by a smutty fan-fiction writer. Was it annoying that a show had taken something fairly niche and given it new mainstream life? “Again, I get the cultural intention behind that. But I think …” He trails off, trying to work out what he wants to say. “It just felt a little bit … No, I’m not going to lie, I was pissed off. It annoyed me that a big company would get behind it.”

Why does he think he never went off the rails during the band’s heady period? “My mates and my family, really. It’s from my upbringing and where I come from. If I went back to Doncaster and I was dripping in Gucci or whatever, I’d probably get whacked. I’m always very conscious of not acting too big for my boots. It’s the people around me who keep me sane and normal, because they give me insight into real life.” “Some celebrities, in pop in particular, only surround themselves with amazingness, and all they see is good, good, good, which is lovely, but you don’t understand the real world then. I have the luxury of my mates around me, just reminding me how fucking good I’ve got it, really.”

The day of One Direction’s final concert in November 2015, Tomlinson and his bandmate Niall Horan sat together “and had a little cry, because it was such a journey we had been on. That day in general was so poignant. As much as you try and prepare yourself, it’s a whole other thing when it comes.” Because they had worked so much with few days off, he assumed that a break would be exciting. “But it wasn’t like that. When you’re used to working however many days, it’s all that more evident when you’re not doing something. Especially in the first six months.” “My life became –and I don’t mean this to sound derogatory – very normal, from being a life of pure craziness.”

At the same time that Tomlinson was trying to work out what to do with himself, his mother, to whom he was intensely close, had been diagnosed with leukaemia; she died in December 2016. He performed his first single on The X Factor just a few days after her death, then seemed to half-heartedly continue with his solo career, releasing another single in 2017. It would be another two years – during which he became a judge on The X Factor – before he released Two of Us, a raw and beautiful (and under-rated) song.

“After I lost my mum, every song I wrote felt, not pathetic, but that it lacked true meaning to me,” he says. “I felt that, as a songwriter, I wasn’t going to move on until I’d written a song like that.” He knew he needed to get it out of him, but there was a lot of pressure – he felt he should be an experienced songwriter before he attempted it. Two songwriters he worked with played him the chorus. “It was like the song I always wished I’d written. I went in and put my personal touch to the verses. It was a real moment for me in my grief, and as part of the creative process, because it felt like it was hanging over me.”

Earlier this month, an inquest found that his sister Félicité had died of an accidental overdose; she had been taking drugs, including anxiety medication, since the death of their mother. He has been through some terrible times, I say, which must put a perspective on a pop career. “Exactly,” he says, a little quieter than before. “That whole dark side I’ve gone through, it sounds stupid to say, but it gives me strength everywhere else in my life, because that’s the darkest shit that I’m going to have to deal with. So it makes everything else, not feel easier and not less important, but, in the grand scheme of things, you see things for what they are, I suppose.”

His fans have been crucial, he says. “I’m sure every artist says this, but I do believe it. We’ve been through some dark times together and those things I’ve been through, they carry a weight, emotionally, on the fans as well. And I felt their love and support. I remember really clearly when I lost my mum, that support was mad.”

What have the experiences of loss he has been through taught him about himself? He thinks for a second. “I keep going back to it, but I don’t know if it’s a combination of where I grew up and my mum’s influence, but I just have this luxury of being able to see the glass half-full no matter what.” He is the oldest of his mother’s seven children, which is grounding and means, he says, “there’s no time for me to be sat feeling sorry for myself. I’ve been to rock bottom and I feel like, whatever my career’s going to throw in front of me, it’s going to be nothing as big or as emotionally heavy as that. So, weirdly, I’ve turned something that’s really dark into something that empowers me, makes me stronger.”

He gets up to go to the toilet, which I think is his polite way of asking me to move on, although when he gets back he says, by way of a final word on the matter, “I don’t want people to feel sorry for me. That’s not how I feel for myself. Somehow it fuels me.”

One Direction will get back together one day, he believes. He still speaks to the others. “We’re not texting each other every day, but what we do have, which will never go away, is this real brothership. We’ve had these experiences that no one else can relate to.”

Styles has become quite the superstar. The others seem to have steady solo careers. Tomlinson says he’s embarrassed to admit that, when he first went solo, he would have been devastated had his album “only” reached No 3, so used is he to everything he did with One Direction going to the top. Is it hard not to measure himself against his former bandmates? “Oh, naturally,” he says. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. I’ve never been competitive like that, but, naturally, you think: ‘If they’re getting this then I deserve that.’ I think, the longer time goes on, I can see it for what it is and just be proud of them.” And success means something else to him now. “It means I’m happy with what I’m doing.”

Kill My Mind, by Louis Tomlinson, is out now on Arista. His debut album will be released in 2020.

[eldritchsurveys]

1005.

What battery percentage is your phone on right now? >> 93%.

Do any medical afflictions run in your family? >> I have no idea what I’m genetically predisposed to.

Who did you last talk to in person and what did you say? >> Sparrow. I don’t remember, it was just a casual interaction.

What's your favourite Mexican dish? >> That’s tough. I do like quesadillas a lot, but ultimately there are hardly any Mexican foods that I would say no to.

Have you ever been to a professional sports game? >> No.

How far do you live from New York City? >> A few hundred miles.

How often do you talk to your parents? >> I don’t.

Do you prefer pads, tampons or something else? >> I prefer to never have a period ever again, if I can help it.

What was the weather like in your town today? >> Mild and sunny.

Are there any phrases or words that you say a lot? >> I mean, probably, but the thing is, I can never remember what they are when asked. If I say something a lot, it becomes unremarkable and not worth remembering.

How many boyfriends or girlfriends have you ever had? >> Too many.

Have you ever ordered a specially made cake from a cake shop? >> Does a wedding cake count?

What was the last movie you saw and who did you watch it with? >> Vampires vs the Bronx. I watched it by myself.

What's the name of your first real boyfriend or girlfriend? >> Meh.

Do you clean your ears daily? >> Not daily.

What accent do you have? >> I assume it’s a generic American anchorman type accent.

What scent of air freshener do you keep in your bathroom? >> Why would I keep an air freshener in the bathroom? The last thing bathrooms need are more smells.

Have you ever dated a model? >> No.

What's the best job you've ever had? >> Selling merch for local bands at their shows.

How about the worst? >> The other jobs I’ve had.

Do you have naturally straight hair? >> Not at all.

What is your ultimate goal in life? >> ---

Have you ever visited someone in prison? >> No.

What months were you and your siblings born in? >> I was born in May.

Do you write down your passwords in a physical place to prevent losing them? >> No, I use a sort of algorithm for my passwords, so while they are always different for every site, I can still figure out what it is.

What are your three favourite vegetables? >> Oh, damn. Can I just lump “leafy greens” in as all one type of vegetable? Gonna cheat and do it anyway. Greens, carrots, tomatoes.

How many times a day do you check Facebook or any other social network? >> I check facebook like 3 times a week.

When was the last time you had a blockednose? >> I don’t remember.

Who is your favourite comedian? >> Dylan Moran, Tiffany Haddish, John Mulaney, Bo Burnham.

What colour are the socks you're wearing today? >> I wore black socks with a space print when I went out earlier today.

What did you have for dinner last night? >> Just some sweet potato fries.

What was the last concert you went to? >> Er... I think that was Hozier.

Are you an ugly crier? >> As self-conscious as I already am about having emotions in a visible manner, the last thing I want to do is call myself ugly about it too. Christ.

What scent is the soap or body wash you use in the shower? >> I don’t remember what the scent of the soap I currently have is supposed to be.

Have you ever had sex in/on a vehicle? >> Once outworld, at least twice Inworld.

Who do you live with? >> My spouse.

What letter does your street name begin with? >> W.

Do you do anything to groom your eyebrows? >> Nope.

When was the last time you ate at McDonald's? >> It’s definitely been a while.

What's your favourite Popsicle flavour? >> I never was a popsicle person until we started going to the farmer’s market and got hooked on this one lady’s homemade popsicles. She uses fresh fruit and makes the best flavour combinations. Right now I’m fantasising about one called “London Fog” which is earl grey, coconut milk, and lavender. It’s the most luscious shade of purplish-grey, too.

Who was the last person you sent a Facebook message to and what did you say? >> Casey, I think. It was a short discussion about the SSI approval process.

Do you have any injuries at the moment? >> No.

Have you ever been to an ophthalmologist? >> No.

Do you own any animal print clothes? >> Nope.

Are you tall, short or average? Would you change this? >> Average, I assume. I don’t care to change it, my height is one of the few things about my body that has never bothered me.

When was the last time you went to a drug store/pharmacy? >> I don’t remember. We’ll have to go to one soon, to get flu shots. Hopefully this weekend.

Do you ever binge-watch TV shows? >> Not really. I used to, but nowadays I get restless after two episodes (or three or so, if it’s a 20-minute show as opposed to a 45-minute or hour).

Have you ever mustered up the courage to tell someone how you feel only to be rejected? >> I mean, I guess. I’ve made overtures towards people that were rebuffed, but not necessarily in a way that felt... particularly rejecting, I guess? Either they were particularly tactful or I just didn’t take it as hard as I could have.

Do you keep your files and documents organised in one place? >> Yeah. I only have a few, anyway.

What's your favourite sweet treat to bake? >> ---

Are you good at flirting and letting people know you're interested? >> ---

What did you have for breakfast today? >> The same thing I have every day.

Do you prefer sweet or savoury breakfasts? >> Savoury only. If there’s sweet stuff involved, like french toast with syrup, it has to be paired with something savoury or I won’t eat it.

Do you like chick-flicks? >> Generally not, I guess. But there’s always exceptions; I love Legally Blonde, for example.

Have you ever taken an acting class? >> No.

What is your favourite kind of berry? >> This is tough. I really don’t want to choose, but I guess if I had to, I’d pick strawberry.

When was the last time you watched one of your favourite movies? >> A while ago, I guess.

How often do you use Youtube? >> I use it fairly often while playing FFXIV because I look up dungeon guides and class guides. Other than that, I watch it maybe once a week or so, to catch up with channels I’m subscribed to or watch things I’ve saved or heard about.

Do you prefer Prince or Michael Jackson? >> I don’t listen to either, but I guess I’d rather listen to MJ than Prince.

What's the coolest thing you've ever dressed up as for Halloween? >> I’ve never dressed up for Halloween.

Are you ignoring anyone right now? >> No.

How do you usually style your hair? >> I don’t.

Do you have any tattoos? Tell me about them. >> Yeah. I feel like I’ve explained them a million times, but the short version is: Mannaz rune, the number XIX with a spider dangling from the I, and “scully, it’s me” which is an obvious X-Files reference (especially if you see Sparrow’s “mulder, it’s me” at the same time).

Have you ever worked in a store while someone shoplifted there? >> No.

When was the last time you used a stove? >> I don’t usually use the stove, so I don’t remember. Probably the last time I made tea.

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to eat? >> Of course.

Are you sitting, standing or laying (or something else) right now? >> Reclining.

How many hours per week do you typically work? >> ---

What was the last pill or tablet you took? >> A CBD capsule.

How far away from your house is the closest grocery store? >> Meijer is about a five- to ten-minute drive away.

Have you ever lived in university/college campus housing? >> No.

Who was the last person you complimented? >> I told someone I liked their glamour (outfit) on FFXIV.

Are you the type of person to take naps, even if you've slept plenty? >> I don’t usually take naps. The only time I do so is when it’s completely unavoidable, like I’m falling asleep at the keyboard.

Do you have a crush on anyone at the moment? >> No.

The age old question: dogs or cats? >> I prefer dogs.

When was the last time you saw your best friend? >> ---

Do you know any couples who resemble each other? >> No.

Have you ever been fired from a job? Why? >> No.

Are you tired right now? >> Not particularly, but it is getting close to my bedtime so I probably will be soon.

Do you like spring rolls? >> I do!

What do you live on in terms of a street, road, crescent, place, court etc? >> Drive.

How many purses or handbags do you own? >> I have a holster type bag, if that counts.

Do you get along with all your aunts and uncles? >> ---

Have you ever eavesdropped and heard something you didn't want to hear? >> Yeah, that happened all the time when I was a child. I had this weird self-destructive habit of listening in on my guardians’ conversations about me, which were almost always on the negative side. I don’t know why I didn’t just... stop eavesdropping. I had to know I wasn’t ever going to hear anything good. So I call it “self-destructive” because, like, why else was I doing it if not to just punish myself?

When was the last time you used a pen, pencil or marker? >> A few hours ago, adding something new to my FFXIV daily-to-do list.

What's your favourite type of curry? >> I have no idea.

Do you often go to do or say something and then just forget? >> Yeah.

Who makes you laugh the hardest? >> I don’t know, man.

Have you ever had casual sex? >> Unfortunately.

What was the last thing you paid for with cash? >> Admission to the Meijer Gardens.

What's the last letter of your middle name? >> W.

If your phone rang right now from a number you don't know, would you answer? >> I never answer my phone.

How long is your hair? >> Like... one centimeter.

What was your first pet's name and how did you pick that? >> Roxie. I think my father chose it, idk.

Do you drink diet or regular soda? >> I don’t drink soda most of the time, but when I do, it’s always regular.

Have you ever been to Europe? >> No.

Do you worry about your own health? >> I mean, sometimes. Not obsessively or anything.

Who did you last make plans with, and what plans did you make? >> ---

Can you smell anything right now? >> Not really.

How old were you when you got your first cell phone? >> Seventeen.

When was the last time you bought a pair of shoes? >> Around this time last year, probably? Or maybe a little earlier, idr.

Do you like fruit and vegetable combo juices? >> Depends on exactly what fruits and vegetables are involved.

Have you ever been on a spring break trip? >> No.

Would you rather be warmer or colder right now? >> I’m at the perfect temperature right now.

How tall are your highest heels? >> ---

What's your favourite flavour of frosting? >> ---

When did you wake up today? >> Around 7.30, I think. Or maybe earlier. I don’t remember.

Do you change your appearance often? >> No. There’s really nothing to change.

What colour are the street signs in your town/suburb? >> Green, I think.

Have you ever blocked someone on Facebook? Why? >> Probably, a long time ago. Because they were annoying, I’d assume.

How many people do you work with? >> ---

What was the last thing you ate? >> Half a lemon coconut cookie.

Do you have any plans for three hours in the future? >> I plan to be asleep then.

Has anyone ever made a comment about your weight that offended or upset you? >> Thankfully not.

[almondharry]

you look so good : two

you look so good [9.1k]

“Let’s get some pasta, green beans, kidney beans, and some lentils.”

Genevieve’s nose scrunched. “I don’t even know what to do with lentils.”

“I have a great recipe for a dal curry. I’ll teach you, it’ll be perfect. We can make a whole day out of it.”

A whole day? For lentils? Genevieve opened and closed her mouth shut, no words came out. 

Arnold’s Singularity Theory

October 26, 2019

Her back was hunched over the wooden desk beside her bed. The high pitched ringing of her alarm snapped her eyes open at six in the morning. The sky was a navy blue; she could make out the few dog walkers on the street. It was her only day off, but the piled work on her table argued otherwise.

Genevieve was alone in her freezing apartment. The heating was broken and when she told Mr. Goldwin, her landlord, he didn’t have his hearing aid on. She had a routine for Sundays: Wake up. Do practice problems. Make a cup of tea. Sleep. 

A dull ache prodded between her shoulder blades, her spine was sorely unaligned. Her face was all sunken cheeks and shades of grey. The sweater bought last month suddenly became a few sizes too big. 

The sun created hues of orange and reds. The blue that slowly peeked out at the sides made it seem like a bowl of dirty paint water being stirred. The evening stillness in her flat was interrupted by the sudden roar of an engine. As she looked out the window, a car zoomed down the road with a blaring radio. An animated lightning bolt was left behind, its speed meant it was gone within a blink. An unsettling feeling made itself a home in the pit of her stomach. She pictured it as swirls, starting off as small slow circles, and eventually growing into sharp hurried edges. 

It was probably nothing, maybe university kids having a laugh, but she didn’t have the time to mull over it because the swinging of her front door and jingling of a bundle of keys sounded loudly. 

Meena opened the door to her refrigerator and the only thing there was a flickering light bulb and an empty box of orange juice. A high pitched shrill followed.

“Gen!” 

Genevieve was out of milk, eggs, and cereal.

She wouldn’t have given it another thought and might’ve ordered take out or popped in at the Smalls’ to split a pizza with Jonah, the neighbour’s kid who she tutored every once in a while. He was the only child of a single dad who worked too many hours at the construction site to make rent. He wasn’t home often and they had a silent understanding of popping in every couple days to keep an eye on him, much like Meena liked to keep tabs on Genevieve. Except, Genevieve wasn’t a scrawny teenage boy who needed to be looked after, something which Meena would refute without a shadow of doubt. At the current state of Genevieve’s flat, the jury would easily side with Meena Ahmed.

Meena had a hand on her hip, her lips pressed in a firm line. She took a deep breath, pinching the carton between her thumb and index finger. “Gen-e-vieve!” 

Meena put her foot down and opened the trash can only to find it overflowing. She held back a gag. 

“Genevieve!” 

After some rustling and movement on the other side of the wall, her feet stumbled out of her bedroom. An unimpressed snarl on her face, Genevieve’s body leaned against the doorway.

“I think by now everyone in this bloody building knows my name,” she said with a textbook in one hand and a pen in the other. She had not looked away from the pages. She hurriedly scratched an answer to her practice problems before it could float away from her brain. “That’s exactly the information they need to kick me out.”

Meena was in her work out clothes, a bright pink neon top with matching trainers. She looked straight out of a healthy living ad. She had glossy black hair, almond shaped eyes, and always smelled of fresh daisies. She had that all American smile and pearly whites that were blinding. She was into juicing, kale, and art history. 

“What is this?”

“What’s what?” Genevieve inquired, her eyes glued on the next problem.

When a moment of silence went by and no response was given, her head shot up.

Her eyes flickered from the trash can—she thought she saw something move in there— to the open door of her empty refrigerator. Her lips fell into an O shape. 

“When you told me you went to the shops on Tuesday, I didn’t know you were talking about two bloody weeks ago,” Meena huffed as she bent down to tie a knot on the black bag, her nose scrunched up. It was atypical to hear her accent try out British sayings, but amusing nonetheless. “Have you been eating?”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I do have instant noodles on the shelf. And I mainly eat at the diner.” Genevieve shrugged, her attention migrated back to her pages. What at first glance looked like to be ten simple problems turned out to be a mess of numbers and formulas that weren’t making any sense. 

“That God awful place serves nothing but heart disease! It takes a whole stack of napkins to soak up that grease!” Meena scoffed as she replaced the bin with a fresh bag. On multiple occasions, she had cornered a frightened Walter to discuss his technique and may have even manipulated him to add a vegan alternative to his infamous pancakes. Thanks to Meena, Flo’s now served gluten-free, vegetarian, and no sugar added options. Genevieve firmly believed Walter did it out of fear, but he won’t admit it. “And instant noodles are not a meal, we have talked about this.”

“‘Course they are! An efficient one too.”

“What happened to ‘We’re gonna change things this year, Meena! Real changes! You won’t recognize me by the time I’m done’?” 

If there was one thing Meena Ahmed took seriously, it was New Year’s resolutions. She kept every one ever since she was old enough to make them. She hadn’t missed a gym day for the past three years. When she said she would take on meditation, she actually did. When her mind became set on studying abroad in London, on January first, she was boarding a plane. 

So when the following December 31st hit and Genevieve was one too many drinks in with Meena, she found herself making empty promises of eating better and taking care of herself. Little did Meena know that to Genevieve, resolutions were much like a two-week free trial. As soon as that time frame was up, you could up and go. 

“I put in a solid effort for a week, and that’s what counts!”

“We need to go to the shops. You have nothing here. You need a list.” The pen between Genevieve’s fingers was swiped and the tearing of paper was quick from her notebook. She was also very much into being intrusive. “Let’s start off with the basics. Eggs, milk, bread. Do you want tea?”

“I can do my own groceries! I’m not a child, Meena!”

“Could’ve fooled me. By the looks of it, you’ve been living off frosted flakes. Do you even know where the closest store is?”

Genevieve scoffed and propped herself on the counter with the back of her elbows. “Of course I do, I am very much capable of taking care of myself.”

Meena paused. Her body turned towards Genevieve with her full, utmost attention. Her eyes scanned her from head to toe, Genevieve was being appraised.

She didn’t put effort to hide the worried crinkle forming between her brows. “Have you showered today? Changed your clothes?”

Genevieve wasn’t a slob, but she did let herself go at times. It was something that Meena, who religiously went to get fresh manicures every two weeks, couldn’t quite grasp.  

“Oh, sod off! I was just about to run myself a bath before you came barreling in.”

She wasn’t, but Meena didn’t need to know that.

“Hm, what type of tea?” Meena asked after rolling her eyes dismissively. 

“Green, please.”

“Let’s get some pasta, green beans, kidney beans, and some lentils.”

Genevieve’s nose scrunched. “I don’t even know what to do with lentils.”

“I have a great recipe for a dal curry. I’ll teach you, it’ll be perfect. We can make a whole day out of it.”

A whole day? For lentils? Genevieve opened and closed her mouth shut, no words came out. She sighed, getting Meena to budge was a faraway dream. She rubbed her strained eyes as Meena listed off something about the lack of vitamins in her diet. She was now on a tangent explaining how an increase in omega-3 and healthy fats in her diet could be beneficial when Genevieve's front door knob jiggled. There was a grunt and a strategic kick to the door, and it flew open.

“Gen!” he panted, his tongue slipped out unintentionally like a dog. His cheeks were flushed a cherry red, probably from the trek up the stairs. Jonah’s backpack was twice the size of him. He wore a shirt with his favourite comic book character, its armpits a shade darker than the rest of his shirt.

He had a ghost white face and his left eye twitched. “Hey, bud, you alright?” Genevieve raised a brow.

Little lungs took in a heavy breath, quite like pulling the handles of a bicycle air pump up.

“I don’t get the trigonometric equations! I have a test tomorrow! Mrs. Hansuld was going over the review in class and it looked like she was speaking Russian— and I know I should’ve been studying last week but they just released the new version of Triton Galaxy X and it was just so beyond cool, Gen. I am already on level twelve, and, well, now I have a test and I don’t know any of it. Nothing. Zero. I don’t think I can even add numbers anymore.”

Genevieve looked at Meena. Her mouth was parted from shock as she blinked at the frazzled boy in front of them. “You’re so tiny… but you, you speak so much and so fast.”

“Um, actually, you’re mistaken.” He raised an accusing finger. His height was a sensitive topic. He was at the stage where all his friends were getting growth spurts and growing like weeds, whereas he had yet to experience his own. “I am almost five foot and that is within the normal height range on WebMD, Docs4You and according to my pediatrician.” 

Genevieve found it amusing that his voice reached a higher pitch the more defensive he got. He was a whistle by the end of his sentence. It also didn’t help that his last name was Smalls and kids in school could be cruel. 

“‘Course, yeah, I’m sorry. My bad.” Meena nodded quickly. She knew she hit a nerve as she backed up slowly. She scratched the back of her neck. “Um, well, Gen and I were planning on picking up groceries, but I’ll go grab ‘em.”

“Great, I’ll go take my books out.” Jonah dragged his bag like a potato sack into the living room.  

“You really don’t have to, Meena.” 

“Gen, it’s no big deal,” she brushed off. “Anyway, I don’t think your pal wants me around much. I need an escape and maybe a magazine too.”

When Meena gulped uncomfortably, Genevieve shook her head. She pushed herself off the counter. 

“Here take my card.” Genevieve shoved the plastic rectangle into Meena’s hand. A comforting squeeze was given. “If you get him one of those milk chocolate bars, he will forgive you in ten minutes tops.”

“Right,” Meena laughed. “I’ll be back in no time.”

***

October 27, 2019

There was a buzzing.

The room was swallowed in darkness, the crescent moon that hung behind the window didn’t provide enough light to warrant a quick search. It was enough of a reason for Genevieve to shut her half opened lids.

Except that the buzzing began again. 

Genevieve groaned into her pillow until the nuisance came to a full stop. Whoever was beckoning her attention could do without it until the sun came up. There was an ache in her neck from the poor posture that her body folded in. To top it off, she had an 8:00 a.m. class. There were not enough hours in the night so she was clinging on to any thread of peace. She tossed and turned until she got the sheets pooled around her in just the right way.

Just when Genevieve was about to slip into the blissful state of unconsciousness, the aggravating buzz started once more. The less than pleased frown on her lips could surely make fresh flowers wilt. Her limbs were heavy with sleep as she moved her duvet to find the pesky device. Genevieve lived in a shithole. Labelling her room a shoe box would be bordering glamorous. Although, it did make it easier to find things. 

It took a couple of shuffles and twists to hear the thud of a screen colliding against the floorboard. The damn thing was still ringing. The brightness on the unknown caller screen made her face glow blue and the back of her eyes burn; she shut them while blindly hitting the green circle. 

“Hm?” Her voice croaked. 

“You know the time I got you out of a thing?”

Their words were slurred and the glowing digits on her windowsill read 5:26 a.m. This meant one thing only. “No, sorry. Wrong number.” 

Genevieve brought the phone away from her face, and just as her finger hovered over the red circle, a needy yelp cried out.

“Gen! Don’t hang up!”

Her eyes rolled with an aggravated sigh, fingers reluctantly pressing the device to the side of her head. There was sleep crusted in the corners of her eyes and she had to blink a couple of times to adjust to the darkness.“What do you want, Niall?”

“You see, I’m in this predicament… and I might need someone sober and with a car.”

“Then call a bloody Uber. Who do you think I am?”

“Look, I thought that. But—”

There was rustling on the other side. After some bickering, another voice spoke through the line. 

“Gen, come get this tosser or else he will pass out on my floor. I swear, I’ll lock up with him inside.” 

“How bad is he?” Genevieve was already pushing aside textbooks on her floor in search of a pair of trousers. With one leg inside and the receiver pressed between her cheek and shoulder, she hopped on her bedroom floor. 

“Not good. He is a right mess.”

“I’ll be there in ten. Just keep giving him water, please? Thanks for the ring, Ted.” She knew Niall well enough to know that this wasn’t his bright and shiny idea. If it were up to him, he would pass out on a park bench. 

“Got your number scratched on the wall for a reason.” The click sounded on the other side, then the line dropped afterwards.

It was true. If you looked hard enough you could make out the chicken scratched scribbles right under the faux payphone mounted inside The Cabinet, where the beers were cheap and Niall Horan was reachable at the slightest inconvenience that struck his life. Last week, it was because he had failed his mid-term. This week, the problem was blonde and walking across campus and shared one too many of his courses.

“No, Gen, she’s just too gorgeous, it’s unbelievable. I think I am in love.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s supposed to happen, but congrats.” 

Ted adored Niall immensely when he was bringing more business to the pub and getting the word out, not when he was a blubbering mess on the sticky countertops. He sipped his drinks like water to the point that Ted would morph into a psychiatrist. This happened so often that it had become a ritual. The day Niall stopped burdening him with his problems was a day that failed to exist. 

Much like her room, the small flat didn’t have the lights on. Genevieve didn’t need them to navigate her path, her fingers haphazardly pulled on her boots and plucked the bundle of keys from a mug. 

Her car, a well-loved hand-me-down, was nothing lavish. It got her from point A to B without much resistance on good days. Her foot eased on the gas, with the route was well versed and memorized. After a couple of stop signs, her destination would be reached. The streets were empty and not one car was spotted at any intersections. 

A light breeze roamed around and brought goosebumps to the surface of her skin. She should’ve brought a sweater, she thought, as her teeth began to chatter. Her dark hair was haphazardly twisted into a bun and rested on the top of her head. The car door shut behind her as she quickly jogged across the street to where the pub was located. 

The street was lonely. 

There were only a handful of people that would be up at this hour. This subgroup of people definitely did not include her. She thought she was still partly asleep when there was a familiar figure pacing down the sidewalk towards her. Maybe it was the dark, but even after she rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palms, the slope of the person remained familiar. As they got closer, the once blurred image sharpened, and she felt her stomach flip. 

A slight panic arose in Genevieve’s eyes. He was too close of a distance for her to dash through the doors, and it would’ve been clear that she was making a run from him. She doesn’t recall when exactly their encounters began to turn dreadful. But the reality of the situation wasn’t how, it was the fact that they had. This was the second time he stood across from her. The rate of their reunions was at an all time high after years spent apart. It made a heavy weight rest on her chest, her own personal Sisyphus boulder. 

Tiptoeing and maneuvering their way around each other was the hardest part. There wasn’t a book in the world that taught you how to stand across someone that you once spoke to every day. There was a time Genevieve could tell what each tilt, rise, and fall of Harry’s face meant. How do you go from sharing friends, laughter, a life, to becoming nothing short of hollow strangers? As they stood across from each other on an empty street, they only shared blank stares.

“Hi.” His breathing was a bit uneven, and Genevieve saw the beginnings of roses bloom on his cheek under the streetlights. His moose coloured hair was tucked under a beanie and there was a slight stubble on his chin.

“You are running?” Genevieve squinted at him. Navy gym shorts hung off his hips and a full sleeve athletic shirt was on top. “At five in the morning?” 

Genevieve hated how Harry looked brand new. In the midst of a mountain worth of chaos and hurt, how he managed to look shiny, pre-packaged, and unopened was well beyond her. She had to hold herself together with her bare arms when her seems unravelled. Harry was happier before Genevieve and it was something she had to be okay with. There was no specific reason why. It was just how reality worked. 

“By the time I’m done, it will be six. I’ll have to get up anyway.” His shoulders rose and fell in a mindless shrug. Genevieve brought her arms to fold across her chest, her fists cuddled under her armpits to trap heat.

“You’re insane.” Genevieve shook her head. The neon trainers he had on rivalled the brightness of the open sign hung on the doors of The Cabinet. When Genevieve thought she had made enough of an effort at a civil conversation, she turned around to push the heavy glass door. There was nothing else to say to him.

Conversation with Harry wasn’t always a chore. She was able to speak without having to think twice or second guess herself. Now, it seemed like every word led to a dead end of an inescapable maze.

Genevieve accepted that Harry was no longer the person she came to with her favourite songs, books and a cup of tea. She wondered if whatever reminiscent memoir she had in her memory of him served true till today. Her Harry was never the sober driver or the early bird runner. She did not expect him to stay the same. No, that would be cruel. But a small part of her wanted to know if she had known him at all. 

Before her weight gave to the door, his voice chimed up.

“You’re drinking?”

“God no, I’m, um—No. I’m here for a friend.” Genevieve paused, a deep breath circled her lungs and helped her string some words together. “He’s gone a bit over the top.” She chuckled. It wasn’t soft and light, but rather felt like sandpaper. 

“Oh, right. ‘Course.” Harry rubbed at the back of his neck with his fingers. He blinked to the ground, the cracked concrete suddenly became much more of an interest. “I wasn’t— it’s just, I run this route every morning and I never see you and maybe I thought—”

“It’s okay, Harry.” He began to run his fingers through his hair, the beanie scrunched in his left hand. “I really need to help my friend, yeah?” 

“Right, I’ll see you around?”

Genevieve left his question hung in the air like forgotten laundry on a washing line. She thought it was better than saying I hope not. She didn’t want to mention that she tried to avoid him to the best of her ability. Genevieve knew his habits, his patterns. She had knowledge about places he went to, so, naturally, she didn’t. It was a triumph for her to go without months of seeing him. But there was only so much she could do. Juggling probabilities of his whereabouts would never assign her a one hundred percent assurance of erasing him, even with a ninety-nine percent confidence interval.

“Genny?” he called out again. The rational part of her wanted to pretend she didn’t hear him and walk through the door. Instead, she took a breath through her nose and turned around slowly. She wrapped her arms tighter together as the temperature dropped by the second. “Um, do you think we could talk sometime?”

There was a frailness to his voice. He was nervous. Genevieve knew this because he had made a mess of his hair with the number of times his fingers combed it back. 

The next words off her tongue painted a sad smile on his raspberry chapped lips. He looked exhausted, the grey shadows under his eyes beckoned her to not beat around the bush.

“We are talking, Harry.”

Confrontation was a foreign concept to Genevieve. Brushing it under the rug and forgetting about it seemed the best way for her. If it is out of sight, it will be out of mind. But Harry had other plans. He wanted to strip the house down and uncover every corner Genevieve thought to be her hiding spot. It was an intrusion and she didn’t want him to come knocking down doors. 

“No, I mean—”

“It was nice seeing you,” she said, her mouth set into a thin, straight line as she held eye contact. They were still the same deep green with golden flecks. She had seen them angry, hopeful, teary, but right now they were desperate.

The slight tilt to her head told Harry not to push it. To leave things as they were. He served as a walking reminder of loss and all the things she wanted to forget. Their situation did not have to go back to a normal distribution; their data was skewed, and the standard deviation was large enough to wedge a significant distance from their past to present.

Change was good, even if it was different. Over time, the further apart she was from him the better it was for her. And she hoped it was the same for him.  

No one warned Genevieve that holding a grudge required discipline and so much energy. She felt drained, her bones became weak enough they could snap in half. There was no brochure that outlined the ins and out of the process. Your brain worked overtime to disguise clenched jaws and tight fists without any compensation.

On the surface, everything appeared smooth and stonelike. Beneath, lied the hot white anger. That type of anger was something no one wanted to intentionally claim; it was an orphan. It builds and builds and builds until you cannot see through it. You’re blinded, you’re revengeful. 

“Yeah.” Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. He teetered on the balls of his feet and toes with his bottom lip caged between his teeth. He was debating on what to say next, and Genevieve wished it would be something short and quick. She wanted him to say a casual goodbye that was heard between strangers in a coffee shop or book store. Something that didn’t make her want to burst into a river of tears. “One more thing.”

“Hm?”

“Nice shirt.” There was a quirk to one side of his mouth where a dimple had coined itself on his cheek. It was an innocent compliment. Something a friend might say to another. Before she could give a reply, he had turned around and broken into a light jog.

Genevieve watched his figure become muddy until the darkness hid him completely. It was an odd thing to say, her appearance was something she could give less of a shit about at five in the morning. She had literally gotten out in the clothes she slept in. 

Genevieve brushed his words off. She wanted a dry goodbye and he delivered. It was nothing more.

Without thinking twice, she pushed the doors open and warmth from inside greeted her. The pub remained looking the same since she had walked in with her two best mates three years before. It was a hole in the wall, fixed in between a thrifting and convenience store. It littered with mismatched chairs and alcohol stains, a pool table and dart boards lined the further corner, and a random sports channel glowed on the box TV. Niall’s blond hair was easily spotted; it laid on the century old cherry wood bar. The posture his back was slumped on the stool insured neck cramps.

The doors behind the bar came swinging open as the bells above chimed of her entrance. A rag rested on his shoulder and he wore a well loved band shirt from his touring days. For someone who was found frowning on most days, Ted beamed a smile at Genevieve. 

“Good! You’re here!” His shoulders dropped in relief as she made her way closer to her friend. “He’s been miserable.”

“Gen? Is that you?” Niall grumbled from his position. “Oh, shut it, Ted. You’re giving me no option but to take my money elsewhere,” Niall slurred as he lifted his head off the wood. There were lines indented on his cheek from his possible snooze. 

“Those are empty words.” Ted rolled his eyes easily and used his rag to clean up the surface that Niall previously occupied. 

“You know what else is empty, Theodore? This glass!” It rattled against the countertop when Niall dramatically set it down. 

Ted’s shoulders shook as he chuckled, crinkles lining the corners of his eyes. “I’m not pouring you another drop, mate.”

“Who said it was for me? Have you seen Gen? She looks proper in need of a few.”

With a deep sigh, Genevieve took the stool beside Niall. Her head slowly turned to scan the pub. A place that was the heart of loud laughter and cheers was dimmed down since they were the only ones. With her elbows propped up on the counter, she pressed her index fingers to her temples. 

“You do look a bit poorly. Under the weather?”

“No, not at the moment,” she sighed.

“Well, you look like shit,” Niall blurted.

“Thanks, Niall, really.” Genevieve glared with a frown. “Remind me to never do a kind thing for you ever again. Sorry I wasn’t in full glam when you called at ass crack of dawn.”

“Did you see a ghost or something? You look sick.” Niall squinted his eyes and pinched her cheek between his thumb and index finger. It was rather quickly slapped away with a snarl. “Ouch!”

“Nothing a pint can’t cure.” A tall glass slid in front of Genevieve. Condensation dripped and pooled on the counter. The frothy foam rested on top and sat at the rim without tipping over. “On the house.” 

A Stella didn’t sound like a bad idea to Genevieve. She felt like she deserved one. After all, two encounters with the person she disliked the most was beginning to become exhausting. The car keys weighed down in her pocket, her bones ached and her temples pulsed. A tired yawn stretched her face as the drink laid rested on the cherry wood. 

Niall scoffed as Genevieve stared at the drink for a moment too long. “If you don’t take it, I will!” 

His fingers crept to grasp the glass, and Genevieve batted his greedy hands away. “Paws off, Niall.”

A cold drink couldn’t hurt, she decided. The first sip eased the tense muscles in her shoulders. Niall found a basket of chips to pick at in the meantime. He probably ordered them to soak up his alcohol intake.

Genevieve could hear Ted in the kitchen. The shifting of pots and pans meant that he was officially closing up for the night. She thought the least she could do was flip the remaining barstools on the counter. 

In the two seconds that she had abandoned her glass, she had turned to see Niall gulping like fish.

“No more!” He made a strangled sound as the rim was pulled from his lips. “Don’t need your puke in my car.”

Genevieve threw back what was left of the drink. “You could just pull the window down and I’ll mind me business.”

Genevieve squinted her eyes to catch a better look at Niall and she noticed he was turning a few shades greener. He had on a dopey grin and his eyes were almost shut. Niall became whiny when he got sick, and if Genevieve were to let that happen in the pub there would be no chance of him leaving.

“How about we get you to an actual sink, yeah?”

With an arm thrown over her shoulder and Niall almost near collapsing on her, she yelled a farewell to Ted. He was more preoccupied with rubbing the stove clean but he got the message, yelling muffled goodbye of his own.

The car parked across the street never felt further away. Niall was in his own world, mumbling some drunk words into her hair. Genevieve caught some that thanked her for taking care of him. She took each step slowly. 

Getting Niall into the passenger seat was a process, one she thought she had got down pat. She had done everything as planned, put his head to the right, made sure he had enough room to stretch his legs and of course, double checked to see if he had his phone and wallet on him. Apparently, this was taking too long and Niall reached over to slam the door shut.

Genevieve had jumped back just in time that no fingers were caught between doors. She sighed in relief before shooting a glare at Niall. He looked at the fabric that stretched from her stomach. “Oops?” 

Genevieve rolled her eyes at Niall, who burst into giggles because it turned out everything was more hilarious at 5:00 a.m. She tugged at the material.

It was old and ratty. It was two sizes too big and hung off her frame, there were stains, holes, some she never remembered putting in herself. It took her a moment, with the fabric bunched between her digits, the gears in her brain set into place. The sharp intake of breath hit the back of her throat and the air on the street suddenly froze.

***

October 27, 2019

“It’s stupid, Gen.” The clicking of a game controller didn’t halt. The animated character on the screen ran towards a glowing torch. Jonah adjusted the headpiece he had on over his ears, probably muting himself so the other kids wouldn’t hear Genevieve lecture him. Beside him sat a bowl of finished popcorn on the sofa, like his player two, and unpopped kernels rattled every time he enthusiastically surged towards the TV screen.  

“This is due in two days, Jonah,” Genevieve emphasized. She had unzipped his backpack. His agenda was hard to read, his chicken scratch writing almost made Genevieve mistake a significant date for scribbles. It was for his English class, something that he had yet to mention, which Genevieve found odd because he always told her about his school work. Okay, it was more like Genevieve made sure he told her, but same thing regardless. “How are you planning on starting and editing and finishing it?”

She knew better than to talk to boys in the middle of a game. There was no use. Her experience regarding it only went one way, everything went in one ear and out the other. It was fascinating, really; their eyes would glaze over and for a short ten minutes the real world wouldn’t exist. They would become so immersed in whatever universe was in front of them. It had been once explained to Genevieve as almost the same thing as reading a good book, but with the exception that the player was put in charge of the main character’s decisions. 

His tongue poked out at the side and the Playstation keys were innocent victims to his quick jabs. His shoulders deflated when the message on the screen informed him of the scoreboard. He grumbled something under his breath before his miniature joystick highlighted the option to opt for another round. “I’ll edit it while I’m writing it.” He shrugged mindlessly. 

“I’m being serious.”

“I am too.” 

“What’s up with you? You usually love finishing your assignments for Mrs. Yu’s class.”

“Look how stupid the prompt is,” Jonah grumbled. Genevieve’s fingers were already pulling out a crumpled rubric and pressing it flat so it stayed without folding in on itself. Eyes scanned the short blurb of instructions which Jonah soon summarized. “Pick a month and personify it. What type of pretentious—”

“I think it’s very neat. Creative. Have you selected a month yet?” 

“Sure.” His flat tone said otherwise.

Genevieve rolled her eyes at his antics. “If you don’t spend enough time on this, she will give you an easy fifty. That will bring down your average and universities look at that. What will you do then?”

She reached over to the table to take a sip from her water bottle.

The Smalls residence was the same layout when compared to her flat, so it didn’t take long to get familiar to it. Granted, it was more furnished and had Jonah’s gaming consoles already hooked up to use. The latter being the deciding factor of Jonah’s executive decision to procrastinate his work for another week. Usually, Jonah would pop in after school to Genevieve’s, but she had just returned from a shift at the diner and his door was cracked ajar.

Like many days, his father left for the construction site and wouldn’t be back until after dinner, and the only appliance Jonah knew how to use was a microwave. Genevieve had some food which Walter packed for her and it was more than enough to share with a growing boy. His diet was worse than hers. He could go weeks on Pop Tarts and Twizzlers from his cafeteria vending machine. Plus, he wasn’t bad company to have around. 

“Easy. Play the dead mum card. Works like a charm.” 

Genevieve spluttered the water out, coughing since it had gone down the wrong tube. 

“Jonah!”

Her jaw went slack and her eyes widened, a slight worry arose. She wasn’t well versed on the ins and outs of parenting—she preferred to see him as a younger sibling— or child trauma, but even she had a hunch that there was something troubling and incredibly off about the way he had referred to the passing of his mother so nonchalantly. 

“What?” Jonah asked, dumbfounded. 

“You can’t just say stuff like that!”

“‘Course I can. You have no idea the amount of pity and sympathy they throw at your feet. At first, I despised it, because obviously I wasn’t a knocked over puppy like they were making me out to be.” His character on the screen jumped to deflect an obstacle. A triumph smile was the direct result. “But then, I was like what the hell, you know? Like if it’s there already, why not play my cards right and score some sort of advantage from it?”

Genevieve blinked. She tilted her head to attempt understanding his analogy. 

“Well, that sure is one way to look at it,” she said after a short pause. “But I am not gonna let you do that to Mrs. Yu. Something tells me you’ve already done it one too many times.”

He paused his game and finally turned to her, giving her more than his side profile at last. A hellish grin split his face. “How else do you think I got a month extension on that book report and a perfect score on our last quiz?”

“I don’t know… I had assumed hard work and honesty?”

“Wake up, Gen! This is the real world and the rules are different in this game!” 

“Alright, bud, you’re cut off from this game.” Genevieve pushed the power button on the TV remote that laid limply to her right. The screen became black with a click. Jonah’s back hit the backrest of the sofa, the bouncy cushion slightly propelled him further before absorbing his weight. “Let’s at least get started on a rough copy, how does that sound?”

He groaned with his head tilted back and eyes shut. “Excruciating, torturous, maybe illegal.”  

“I’m asking you to get a start on your project, not abducting you.” His pace to grab the rest of his belongings from the table two meters away from him could rival a snail. “Now, do you have a month in mind?”

“I was thinking maybe like February, December, or even October.” He opened an empty page in his notebook and clicked the top of his mechanical pencil to give away some lead. “Because, like, it will be easy to build a character off them because they all have some sort of festive holiday thing to them.”

“That’s a great start. But don’t you think it’s a bit expected? It is a creative piece, so let’s maybe brainstorm something out of the box. Try picking a month that doesn’t have a holiday attached to it.”

He sighed deeply through his nose. The thought of putting in a smidge bit of effort was like pulling teeth.

Jonah had started to doodle in the margins. He drew three tallies, evenly spread, and added another row of them. He then connected them in a way which Genevieve recognizes to be the symbol on a superhero’s chest. 

“August?” 

Genevieve swallowed a bug.

“Why did you pick that? What significance does it have to you?” Genevieve doesn’t miss a beat, it aided to mask her surprise. 

“Well, I don’t know!” He throws his hands up exasperatedly. “You said pick one, so I did.” He pointed out, his tone reminded Genevieve of how a middle schooler says “duh”. 

“Come on. Think a bit.” 

“It’s like... sort of like the last month of summer and it brings in fall. Which is the season where we witness life slip away, but barely because it happens so slowly.” 

Genevieve’s heart swells for two reasons. Jonah was a bright kid, well beyond his age. It was something he hid and purposefully tried his utmost best not to let shine through. Genevieve had guessed the reason behind his reluctance was mainly because Jonah was at that age where he just wanted to fit in and not stand out like a sore thumb. But every once in a blue moon, he would slip up. When he allowed himself to think out loud, his ideas lined in a way where it wasn’t just the tip of the iceberg anymore. The depth gave away his brilliance. 

The first time Genevieve was left speechless by him was when he analyzed one of his favourite comic book characters with an intensity that put the burning sun to shame. Then again when he asked her to edit his essay on a world issue. And once more when he asked her how to approach a girl in his science class that he clearly fancied. Genevieve tried to define this tendency of his as a recurring variable in Jonah’s equation. 

In many more ways than one, August held an importance like no other to Genevieve. It was a month that was easily overlooked because it was caught in a war for attention between the summer months and upcoming winter holidays. Its propinquity to strong competition was something that made it easy to forget. If it was a person, she was sure it would be a quiet boy around her age. Probably with a penchant for befriending girls and breaking hearts so slowly that you don’t even know it’s happening. 

Genevieve hummed in agreement with Jonah. 

“Go on.”

“Let’s say if I were to go with this month, I wouldn’t focus on death because that would be something colder, like December or January or like the first snowfall.” His pencil sounded against his notebook. A string of notes were effortlessly coming together as Jonah continued. He suddenly stopped writing and his face scrunched in thought as he stared at the blank TV screen with as much focus that could convince you it was on. “I think August is knowing you’re losing someone or something without the assurance of finding them again... and letting it deliberately happen.”

“Isn’t that almost death?” Genevieve raised a brow. 

“Almost, but not quite.” He tapped his pencil to the metal like coils that ran down the side. “August is loss, parting away. You know, something along the lines of donating old clothes, a friend becoming a stranger, even placing car keys somewhere different.”

Genevieve knew exactly what he was talking about. She couldn’t really describe the feeling of losing a friend in words with sharp precision. It was the same as repeating a word again and again until it came to the point you deluded yourself into thinking it belongs to another language completely.  

Jonah peered up, awaiting a response or another prompt to further his development. Instead, Genevieve smiled sadly and shakes her head. 

“What?!”

“Nothing.” She laughed softly, a bit winded.

There was just something about him that was light years ahead. Something so pure and good and applaudable that made you think about the character that so many adults lacked and how it was sitting in front of you in a corked up bottle of a preteen boy. He had lost his mother, his father wasn’t around, he didn’t have many friends at school, and he picked the month of August. He had hit the nail on what it was so eloquently that Genevieve could burst into tears. But she refrained, instead opted to narrow her eyes jokingly his way.

“You’re just too smart for your own good, is all.”

That night she went to sleep thinking about August.

How he probably wore wrinkled shirts so effortlessly, with his hair in a gentle disarray. People would make a note to comment on his ridiculously long eyelashes, but she favoured his eyes. They were round and shiny and reminded her of a cloudy marble, the colour of slate. He was charming but had an air of coyness about him that was inviting and deliberate. With skin the colour of oat and a smile like rain, it came or it didn't, he was a knockout. She hypothesized the variable that contributed to his allure had less to do with his looks and more with how he made you feel. 

He made you feel wanted, he made you feel like you were someone. 

***

October 31, 2016

It didn’t take long for Genevieve to spot him, his back was slouched against the red brick wall of a tall building. A pair of old wayfarers sat on the bridge of his nose and his arms pretzeled over his chest easily. His jaw went slack then tight, this pattern repeated like clockwork until Genevieve got close enough to notice he was working a piece of gum lazily. With his head tilted to the sky and one leg crossed over the other, he was imitating textbook boredom. 

“Do you have it?” Dried leaves crunched beneath the sole of his boots as he unravelled his legs and stood up straighter than before as Genevieve’s figure approached near. She could tell he was raising his brows, but they didn’t make an appearance, still hidden behind his frames.

“Yeah.” Genevieve dipped her index finger and thumb to the front right side pocket of her jeans. It took some wiggling to pluck out a piece of metal, smooth on one side and teeth jagged on the other. The metal was warm when dropped into his open palm. “Why the sudden need for it? Have you finally taken up my advice on actually locking your doors yet?”

It was natural for him to give Genevieve a spare key, a strategy that had served him well on multiple occasions. He had lost his more than once within the span of the first two months of getting his flat. This habit had come to a point that recovery was not an option; he preferred to keep his door unlocked anyway. Genevieve pointed out it was a safety hazard, but he liked to call it being efficient. In between locking himself out or forgetting his own key, Genevieve was a dependable solution.

“Not quite, don’t get too ahead of yourself.” She had seen his long black eyelashes hit the inside of his sunglasses, a clear indicator of him rolling his eyes. “I need it for a friend. He doesn’t have a place to stay for a while, and I offered the couch. Are you done with your lectures for the day?”

“I’m afraid not. Got one more and I’m free,” Genevieve sighed defeatedly. She shifted her bag from her right shoulder to the left. Today, she only had her laptop and one textbook, but the strap of her bag still created red dents on her shoulders from the weight. “Did you end up going to your tutorial?”

He gave her a look that was enough of an answer. His glasses rose on his face as a result of him scrunching his nose up in disgust. The tips of his mouth pulled downwards as sourness glazed his features. 

“If it’s before noon, I’m not going; you know this, Genny.” He rubbed his nose with the back of his finger. “Can I tempt you to skip by offering the first round at The Cabinet?”

“It’s like…” Genevieve glanced at her wrist watch. “One.”

“I’m not hearing a no.” He grinned, a smile pressed deeply into his face. “Come on, Gen! You’ll get to meet my pal too. I think you’ll get along really well. And Ted is offering half off today. It’s a win-win. What could be more important than good company?”

“Dynamic Systems Differential Equations, unfortunately.” The course name was a mouthful and her dull tone was enough insight into what it was like.

“That sounds like a migraine.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.” She laughed sans humour already picturing the formulas needed for her practice problems. “Speaking of migraines, what are we doing as costumes for Hannah Morton’s party?”

He squinted his eyes and paused for a moment. Migraine Morton was a nickname that stuck onto the bottom of your sneaker like chewing gum. “Is that tonight?” 

“Well it is the thirty-first of October.” Her arms stretched to gesture towards the building she had exited from. “Do the carved pumpkins and the stick on ghost figures not make that obvious enough?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” He winced in reply to her previous question. A fingernail scratched at the corner of his forehead. “I was thinking of piggybacking off whatever you’re dressed as.”

Genevieve’s brows creased and her head tilted. “What do you mean?” 

“If you’re Frankenstein, I’ll be the doctor.” He pointed to Genevieve and then to himself. “Bonnie, Clyde. Sherlock, Watson.” 

“You want to go coordinating? Isn’t that a bit…”

“What?” He prompted with a laugh spluttering from his lips. It was fresh and bright, and Genevieve didn’t know exactly when it would stop sounding like this. He had amusement glittering in his gaze, there was a youthfulness about him that was so prominent and bold. He leaned closer. “Are you too cool to go coordinating now? Don’t tell me you can’t sit beside me at the lunch table too.”

It was ironic because they both knew Genevieve had always chose him to split her fruit roll-up candy since pre-school. In return, he would never pick up the red smarties whenever they shared a pack because those were her favourite, despite the number of times you told her the colour doesn’t affect the taste. 

“I don’t know, a bit coupley? I mean, it worked well when we were eight. Would you think Hannah would mind?” 

To this, he scoffed.

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. Why would she?”

“She’s clearly into you, like a lot, and I don’t want to get in the middle of that. And I hear she’s going around saying that she’s your girlfriend.”

He closed his eyes gently and breathes out a sigh. “She’s not my—”

“I know that! You know that! But does she?” 

His phone buzzed and the question hung in the air until his fingers stopped their dance on the screen. He looked over her shoulder as if waiting for someone. 

“Doesn’t matter, she will soon enough.” He shrugged, his voice was distracted and far away. And that was one thing about him that Genevieve couldn’t shake off no matter how hard she tried. He broke hearts knowingly, and did it anyway. “What time do you want me to come pick you up?”

“I’m done with class at five. I’ll have to stop by Party City at six, then do my modules so that will take me till nine, then I—” Rolling tires sounded loudly against the pavement as they approached behind her. The closer they got, the less time she had to finish her train of thought. The radio was a few notches down from its max setting.

“Be ready at nine. No later.” He gripped her shoulders with both hands, brought her close and pressed a messy kiss against her hair. He smelled of cigarettes and toothpaste and beer. 

“No, I won’t be, I have to do my laundry and—”

“Great. Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” 

And he was gone. He opened and shut the passenger side of the beat up Honda Civic in two seconds. The driver was familiar to Genevieve, it was another blonde, not Hannah, with thick eyeliner. She was a regular turn up at every monotonous party thrown each weekend. She had seen her get too close to him on more than one instance. He convinced Genevieve to poke in at a few, but the scene was like a broken record and her lack of interest dwindled in them too quickly.

It once even prompted her to bring her textbook to do practice problems to keep her from falling asleep as drunk students lit up a joint around her. Every once in a while he would trap grey smoke in his cheeks and blow it directly on her face to elicit a scowl, something he found beyond hilarious when his inhibitions weren’t intact. 

The girl’s hair was knotted and she had a less than pleased demeanour, probably nursing a hangover of her own. She stomped her foot down on the gas. He didn’t even have his seatbelt done before their bodies lurched backwards and the car zoomed out from the parking lot of the mathematical sciences department building. The radio became only a faint sound away the longer Genevieve stood there. 

By the time she got to Party City, the student working behind the counter gave her an apologetic look. All the decent costumes were sold out. He led her to the back of the store where the remaining costumes were kept. Being a university student meant she couldn’t break the bank for something so trivial. In the plastic bin lied a pair of fangs and a deflated witches hat that had a tear near the rim. There were masks, but she would be better off by taking a paintbrush to her face. 

She sighed deeply, her lips pursing in thought. It was obvious her plans of coordinating were a dream far away. That was until she turned around. 

A long hat cowered in the corner. It had thick red and white stripes, she pictured it with eyeliner drawn whiskers and a cat ear headband from last year. Maybe even a red bow around her neck. What really sealed the deal for her was the red shirt hung on a hanger right above it. It had a white circle right in the dead centre. The font within the circle was a recognizable outfit from a famous children’s book character. Bonnie and Clyde, Sherlock and Watson, and now Cat in the Hat and Thing 1.

The relief that came along with not trying to maneuver creating an outfit at home was enough to get Genevieve to run to the till. Arts and crafts were not her strongest suits.

The same guy’s eyebrows shot up, surprised at her quick decision making. He shut his latest issue of Men’s Healthy Living and leaned his weight off his elbow. He scanned the items and Genevieve handed him the crisp bill. Before he could finalize the sale, Genevieve thought back to the couch friend that would be accompanying them tonight. Did he have a costume? Inferring from the fact that he didn’t have a roof of his own, a lousy Halloween costume was the least of his worries. But Genevieve found her feet trailing back towards the shop and grabbing the shirt that said Thing 2. The guy added it to her final bill and packed her belongings in a black plastic bag. 

He was late and Genevieve was thankful that her laundry was dry and folded neatly. 

---

© 2019 almondharry All Rights Reserved

Okay, I think I’m done introducing the main characters. We have quite the cast list, don’t we?

Let me know what u think! I’d love to hear your favourite parts and predictions!

Thank you eriza @booksncoffee for the banner! 

Thank you so much to my wonderful betas @adoremp3 @haaaaaaarrry @drivingmekiwi @at-least-im-1 Ayesha and Hamna! Without them, this would be a jumble of fucked up grammar bc I write at 3am. If you want to beta, shoot me a message!

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