#WHAT did London... What the ERAS TOUR do to deserve All I Wanted?! It should have been me!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pufflezy · 2 years ago

Text

Authors Note: Anything you recognize comes from the Harry Potter series.

Time for my random burst of wanting to write this again for a week before a disappear for a year :) lol Enjoy!

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

CHAPTER TWELVE: A Very Merry Christmas Break

Lily's POV:

This Christmas break has been everything I'd hoped for and I'm only one day in. We had a delicious breakfast with James' parents this morning, I got a tour of the house and now I get to sit on their fancy grey couch in their sitting room and listen to embarrassing stories about James while looking at pictures of him as a kid.

"Oh, Mum, not that one please!" James pleads as his mom grabs another picture from the red painted wooden box on her lap.

"Oh shush, its cute!" she responds as she hands me the picture, "This is when he decided he wasn't going to wear trousers again until the little girls at preschool stopped getting called names when they wore trousers instead of dresses."

I look down at the picture of a little boy with glasses too big for his head and hair just as messy as it is now, with nothing but a white button up shirt on as he runs away from the camera.

"Awe look at your little tushy." Sirius says, laughing behind me.

"Shove off." James responds while rolling his eyes, as I laugh as well.

"Here's one from his first day of Hogwarts at Kings Cross Station. Awe, how I miss when you were that tiny." Euphemia says while handing me the next picture.

He's standing in front of the train with his uniform already on and suitcase in hand, smiling so big that his eyes are barely open.

"Awe, you're so cute and small." I say with a laugh.

"Well, you didn't think I was cute then, you hexed me later that day, remember?" James responds.

"You deserved it." I say with a smile.

"What did I even do?" James laughs.

"I don't remember, but you definitely deserved it!" I laugh with him.

Euphemia laughs as well before telling us she was headed up to bed. James and Sirius got up to hug her goodnight and then as soon as she is out of ear shot, Sirius looks at me, "Wanna have some fun?"

"Fun?" I ask, looking at James for clarification but he only smirks at me.

"Follow us, Lily-Flower." Sirius says as he starts walking towards the kitchen.

I get up and follow James and Sirius into the kitchen where Teenie is sat on a barstool reading the Daily Prophet.

"Master James, why is this person being so horrible?" Teenie asks.

James walks over to the fridge and begins grabbing bottles of Firewhiskey and Butterbeer, "Who?" he responds.

"This evil man in the paper. You know who." Teenie says with a frown.

James looks up immediately, "What has he done now?"

Teenie looks back down at the paper and reads it allowed, "'You know who' strikes again. Early this morning, the dark mark was seen above the house of a muggleborn's family in London. Three muggles were found dead in the house and the deatheaters responsible have yet to be found."

I feel sick as I hear her read on. All I can think about is those poor muggles standing no chance against any wizard, let alone deatheaters, and the poor muggleborn student who had to hear about their parents death like I did.

"Why does he do it, Master James?" Teenie asks again.

"I honestly don't know, Teenie. He's just a horrible person who has horrible morals and will go to great extents to get what he wants." James responds.

"I don't like you know who." Teenie says, sitting up straighter.

"I don't either." James smiles at her as he sets the drinks on the counter and waves his wand in a circle to make them all float at once. He points his wand towards the stairs and they start floating that way, "Get some rest, Teens, we'll see you in the morning, ok?"

"Ok Master James, but don't get in any trouble tonight or I'll have to tell Master Fleamont and Master Euphemia that you stole their alcohol." She smiles.

"Sounds good." James laughs as he starts walking up the stairs behind the floating alcohol.

Sirius turns and wiggles his eyebrows at me before skipping after James. I laugh and follow them.

I walk into James' room where he has set the alcohol on a dark wooden desk by a big window. His walls were an orangy-beige colour to match the orange Chudley Cannons posters all over his walls, and his red bedsheets atop his wooden bedframe that perfectly matched his desk, bedside tables and dresser. There was a beige square rug in the middle of the room, a bookcase full of books with even more books in piles in front of it, Quidditch equipment on the floor by the desk, a box of what looked like old test and papers he had written and framed pictures of him and his parents and him and the guys on his walls and bedside table.

"Aren't your parents going to see that their alcohol is missing?" I ask James.

"No. They never drink. I don't even know why they have this stuff. Its kept way in the back of the fridge too so they won't even notice." James responds. "Here you go, Sirius." James said as he handed Sirius a shot of Firewhiskey.

"Thank you, Prongsy." Sirius says, "You actually gonna drink with us, Evans?" Sirius says with a smirk.

"Of course I am!" I respond.

"Oooo, Evans is a rebel now, is she?" Sirius says with a grin as James pours me a shot as well.

"I'm not a rebel," I laugh, "but Marlene stayed with me for a couple of weeks in the summer and we drank almost every night. We would go out and wonder the streets or stalk hot muggle market boy."

"Hot muggle market boy?" James questions as he takes his shot and opens himself a Butterbeer.

"Yes. The hot muggle boy who works at the market by my house. That's what Marlene calls him." I laugh and open myself up a Butterbeer too.

"How hot are we talking here?" Sirius asks.

"Very hot." I respond with a serious face. "Dark wispy hair, tall, muscular, great jawline, pretty eyes." I smile.

"Wow, you're gonna have to introduce me to this guy, Lily-Flower." Sirius laughs.

James looks slightly annoyed for a brief moment before pouring each of us another shot. "Here you go, ma 'lady." He says as he hands me mine.

"Thank you, James." I laugh.

We clink our shots together and down another 5 each within the next 30 minutes, whilst still each sipping on our own Butterbeers. I can definitely feel myself getting tipsy when every time James talks, I stare at his lips. They just look so soft.

James catches me staring, "What?" He smiles as he runs his hand through his hair.

"Nothing." I smile back.

"I can't believe Marlene is so obsessed with that Kingsley guy. I mean, he's not even half as hot as me." Sirius responds to James' comment about how the new team is working out.

"Sirius, she thinks you're hot too." James laughs.

"Well, still. I don't need competition on my own team." Sirius says.

"My team." James says, strictly, but still with a smile.

"Whatever." Sirius laughs while taking a sip of his drink. "I still don't think he's very attractive."

"He is." I chime in.

"Really?" James questions. "I didn't think he'd be your type."

"What did you think was my type?" I laugh.

"I don't know. I guess muscular with dark wispy hair like market boy." He responds smiling.

"You're right, Kingsley isn't my type, but I can still appreciate the fact that he's hot." I say.

"Well then do you think I'm hot?" James smirks.

"No." I respond, blankly.

"Oh, come on! Just rate me from 1 to 10!" He pleads.

"Based on just looks or personality too?" I ask, smiling.

"Which one will get me a higher number?" He laughs.

"Just looks." I respond and Sirius laughs.

"Wow." He nods with a smile, "Ok what's my rating just based on looks then?"

"Hmmm," I look at him for a moment, contemplating my answer. "9." I answer.

"9!? Really?" He says, surprised.

"Just in the obvious way though." I say.

"What does that mean?" Sirius asks.

"Means that you're hot based on what majority of people consider hot. Like the messy hair and little smirk and abs. Just like conventionally attractive." I say before I can stop myself. Did I really just point out each thing I find attractive about James Potter to James Potter? I'm never drinking with him again.

He's smirking at me with slightly raised eyebrows. He's doing that cocky little, 'you like me and you know it' face he does when I slip up. Which isn't deserved because I don't like him. At all.

"Didn't know you thought about me like that, Evans." He continues to smirk.

I roll my eyes, "I don't. Again its conventionally. It's not a compliment or anything. Just a fact."

"A fact that I'm hot?" He asks, smiling.

"Yes." I respond. I need to stop talking. I can feel my face burning up so I get up and pour myself another shot.

"Slow down on those, Lily-Flower or you're just gonna reveal all your secrets." Sirius laughs.

I walk past him in the desk chair and over to the bed to sit next to James again. James watching me the whole time.

"You know I think you're hot too, right? Just not only in an obvious way and 100% as a compliment." James says, still staring at me.

I blush and I hate myself for it.

"I can leave you two alone if you want." Sirius says, with a wink.

"No!" I practically yell.

They both shush me and start laughing, "Do you wanna get caught?" James smiles.

"Sorry." I laugh with them.

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

James' POV:

I wake up with a pounding headache and roll over to check the time. 9:07, it reads. Mum and Dad have probably already been up for hours waiting for us to come down for breakfast, so despite wanting to stay horizontal, I roll out of bed in my pajamas pants and make my way to Sirius' room. I knock and hear a groan from the inside.

"I'm coming in so you better have pants on!" I say through the door before entering.

He's laying on his back staring at the ceiling, "I feel shitty." He groans.

"Me too. My head is pounding." I respond, "But you know Mum and Dad are probably waiting for us to come down, so lets go."

"Ugh, fine." He responds as he gets up and throws a t-shirt on.

We walk over to Lily's room and knock on the door. "Lils, are you up?" I say. A groan similar to the one I just received from Sirius comes from inside. I open the door and Lily is sat on the end of the bed with her head in her hands. She's wearing those little shorts I like but I'm trying not to focus on that. "You ok?"

"No." She says, sadly. "I feel sick."

"Drink a little too much there, Lily-Flower?" Sirius asks with a laugh.

"Shove off, Sirius or I'll hex you." She threatens with a glare.

"Now, now. Calm down, Evans." I laugh. "Lets go get some breakfast."

She stands up and I catch her glance at my bare chest before walking past us out the door. I turn and can't help but let my eyes roam down her body as well before Sirius smacks my arm and raises his eyebrows at me with a knowing smile. I smile back and we follow Lily down the stairs.

We enter the dining room where Dad is sat on one side reading the Daily Prophet and Mum is sat on the other writing something in a notebook, "Good morning, kids." She says cheeryfully.

"Morning, Mum." I respond. We sit down at the table and Mum calls for Teenie.

"Oh and Teenie, dear, don't forget those drinks for the kids." She says.

"Of course, Master Euphemia." Teenie says as she places plates of bacon and eggs in front of us before running back to the kitchen to grab the drinks.

"Drinks?" Sirius asks. As Teenie places 3 glasses of a green potion in front of each of us.

"Pollin-Up potion." Mum responds, with a smile that could either mean she thinks it's amusing that we need the hangover curing potion or that she's gonna kill us because we need the hangover curing potion. Either way, she knows we're hungover.

I look at her with an apologetic smile and turn to give the same smile to Lily and Sirius for getting caught. "Sorry, mum." I say.

"Ya, sorry, Mum." Sirius adds.

"It's quite all right. But next time, please ask before you steal our Firewhiskey and get drunk." She responds with a smile.

"Or at least invite your old man!" Dad adds, earning a glare from Mum.

"Yes Mum." I laugh. I turn and look at Teenie, "I thought you said you wouldn't tell as long as we didn't get into any trouble."

"Yes, Master James, and I'm sorry. But then I remembered that you're not supposed to be drinking alcohol in your bedroom with your girlfriend. So I told Master, Euphemia." Teenie responds, smiling.

"Girlfriend?" Lily says with raised eyebrows.

"I swear I didn't say you were my girlfriend." I panic, "Teenie, Lily is just my friend."

"Master James, I may be a house elf, but I'm not stupid." She says before walking out of the room. I turn and look at Lily who is still raising her eyebrows at me.

I go to defend myself again but she stops me, "It's too early for this, James, it's fine." She laughs as she sips her potion and starts eating her eggs.

Dad looks at me with a puzzled look as if he thought Lily and I were dating too. I guess I didn't really say otherwise. I just asked to bring home the girl I've been talking about for 6 years. Probably should have clarified that we're just friends.

"So are you three coming out to the garden this afternoon for the annual Potter Christmas Eve Quidditch game?" Dad asks us, "Your cousins will be here at 2."

"Hell ya!" Sirius says, excitedly.

"Of course we are!" I add.

Dad looks at Lily, "What position do you prefer, my dear? You get first pick since you're our guest."

"Umm," Lily hesitates, "I don't know."

"Just pick whatever one comes easiest to you, hun. We're all ok with playing any position." Mum says with a smile.

"I've never actually played Quidditch." Lily says, embarrased.

"What?" I say, shocked.

Lily laughs, "Well when would I have played? The closest thing we have to Quidditch in the muggle world is football or rugby and I haven't played those since primary school."

"I guess I just figured you would have played with Marlene or something." I respond.

"Nope. Never played. Plus the only times I've ever been on a broom, I've nearly broken my face from falling off." She laughs again.

"Well then I guess we've got some work to do, Lily-Flower." Sirius says as he downs the rest of his potion and stands up.

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

Lily's POV:

The boys gave me a set of their Mums old Quidditch uniform's to wear, as well as forcing me to put on every piece of padding they could find from James' uniform as a kid. We walk through the back garden, all the way to the back where there's a big open area and a small wooden shed.

James opens the shed and grabs out the Quidditch chest that has the Quaffle's, Bludger's, and Snitch and brings it to the middle of the open area before walking back and passing Sirius and me each a broom and then grabbing his broom.

"So you obviously know how the game works, right?" James asked. "Like the positions and what you're trying to do."

"Ya, I've gotten that much from watching the games at Hogwarts and hearing you two and Marlene talk about it constantly." I laugh.

"Perfect, so we just need to get you comfortable on the broom and play a couple short games so you can see which position you like best." Sirius says with a smile.

"I think you're over estimating my abilities on a broom. When I say I'm bad. I truly mean it." I smile honestly.

"I'm sure you'll be fine! Here, just hop on and I'll stand right here holding it so you can just hover above the ground for a minute." James says.

I sit on the broom and immediately tumble and almost fall over before James grabs my knee with one hand and the back of the broom with the other. "I told you." I say.

"It's ok, just relax and try to hover there." James says with a smile, still holding onto the broom.

I lose my balance slightly and I think James can see by my face that I'm terrified of the fact that I'm not touching the ground.

"You're alright. I promise I won't let go." James smiles reassuringly.

I look forward and try to focus on balancing, allowing me to stay on for a minute. "Are you sure this thing is safe?" I ask.

"Yes Lily, that's a childs training broom, it won't even go 10 feet above the ground." James laughs. "I'm gonna let go. Try to lean forward slightly to allow yourself to move a little bit."

James lets go and I swear I only move an inch, yet somehow I've flipped the broom completely over and am now lying on my back in the snow with the sun in my eyes.

"Shit, are you ok, Lily-Flower?" Sirius says, flying over from where he was.

"Ya, I'm good." I respond as I take James' extended hand so he can help me up.

"Wow, you really do suck, huh?" James smiles sympathetically.

"I told you." I laugh.

Just as I was about to hop up again, Teenie comes walking down the garden path calling for James.

"What's wrong, Teenie?" James asks.

"Master Fleamont and Master Euphemia wanted me to tell you that they had to leave and may not be back until late tonight. They apologize for leaving so suddenly and for having to cancel the game, but it was an emergency from the Ministry, sir."

"What?" James drops his broom and walks over to Teenie, "What kind of emergency?"

"I'm not sure Master James, but I can suspect that it has something to do with you know who. Master Fleamont and Master Euphemia help to protect people from them." Teenie replies.

"Yes I know, Teenie. They're aurors, it's their job. But they didn't say how serious the emergency is?" James says, looking concerned.

"No, sir. But they'll be back tonight." She smiles before turning to walk back into the warm house.

"Well I guess it doesn't matter that I suck at this then." I smile, trying to lighten the mood.

James faces me and smiles sadly, "For now, but if we're gonna be friends you can't be embarrassing me like that."

I laugh and hit his arm, "Shove off."

"Lets head back in the house. It's freezing out here." Sirius says.

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

James' POV:

It was really late by the time I finally heard the front door open, but I couldn't sleep not knowing that they got home safely. I get out of bed and slowly make my way down the stairs where I can hear my parents talking in the sitting room.

"He deserves to know, Love. If he's going to be even slightly prepared for what's coming, he needs to be aware of it as soon as possible." Dad says.

"We can't, Fleamont. Not yet." Mum replies while pacing the room.

"Euphemia, I know you want to protect him but not telling him may cause more damage."

"I said no."

"We don't have to give him all of the details but if we at least mention how bad it's truly getting-"

"No, Fleamont." Mum says, sternly. "He's just a boy. I need him to get through his last year at Hogwarts with the least worry about the outside world as possible, otherwise, he will set himself up for failure and only put himself into more danger. He's just a boy."

"Ok, Love. I'm sorry." Dad says before hugging her. "You ready to put the gifts under the tree for the last time before our boy is a man?"

"Oh, shove off, you're gonna make me cry." Mum laughs.

I go back upstairs as quietly as possible. Of course I want to know what happened, but if Mum doesn't think I should, then I won't. I know better then to push her for answers. She's just as stubborn as Lily is.

I walk back into my room and look at the pile of gifts I wrapped while I was waiting for Mum and Dad to get back. I put Peter and Remus' gifts in my suitcase after wrapping them so that I could give them to them when we get back and put Mums, Dads, Sirius' and Lily's gifts on my desk until morning. I really hope Lily likes hers. After this mornings awkward 'girlfriend' thing, I feel as though I might have gone a bit extreme for a gift for 'just a friend'. Even though she's definitely not 'just a friend' to me.

I wrote Remus while I was waiting as well to wish him a Merry Christmas and tell him I hope he's doing ok. Hopefully I hear back from him tomorrow, but I doubt it.

I wake up about 5 hours after falling asleep to Sirius yelling in the hallway.

"It's Christmas! Get your asses up, I wanna open gifts!" He yells again.

"Sirius, shut up!" I yell back.

Mum opens my door, "Come on, hun, he's not gonna stop until we open gifts." She laughs.

I get up and wave my wand to pick up the gifts from my desk. I make my way over to Lily's room and knock on the door. She opens it and smiles, "Merry Christmas, James."

"Merry Christmas, Lily." I smile back.

We walk downstairs where Sirius is already sitting next to the tree with his pile in front of him and a big smile on his face like a kid. "Can I start?" He asks.

"Yes, go ahead." Mum smiles.

I sit on the couch next to Lily and push her pile over to her. Her eyes are wide when she sees how many gifts she has.

"You guys really didn't have to buy me anything." She smiles, gratefully.

"Oh, of course we did, Lily, dear. Anyone who James and Sirius see in good company is family, and we will treat you as such." Mum smiles back.

"Thank you." Lily says.

Once we've finished opening our gifts from Mum and Dad, we hand out our gifts to each other. Sirius gave me some little things from Zonko's and a signed Chudley Cannons Jersey he got from the Quidditch shop in Diagon Alley.

He seemed to like the watch and pack of cigs I got him as well.

Lily handed me a little brown bag with red tissue coming out the top, "It's not much, I sent most of my money to Petunia to help pay for my Mum and Dads funeral, but I wanted to get you something. As a thank you."

"Lily, you didn't have to do that." I smile.

"I wanted to." She smiles back.

I take the tissue paper out of the bag and pull out a small charm of a witch riding a broom.

"I got it from a muggle shop in London. I think it was supposed to be for a Halloween costume." She laughs. "I thought you could clip it to your Quidditch uniform or school bag or something."

"That's so cool. Muggles make witch things?" I ask.

"Well yes, but only because they think we're mythical creatures." She laughs again. I walk across the room to grab her gift box and hand it to her.

She smiles at me as she begins to unwrap it and she carefully lifts the lid of the jewelry box. I stare at her, waiting for some kind of reaction and begin to worry. Maybe I should have gotten something less expensive like some chocolates or something at least a little less extreme. But then she smiles. The sweetest smile I have ever seen.

"I love it, James." She looks up at me, "Its beautiful, thank you."

I smile, "I saw it and thought of you cause its the same colour as your eyes."

"Can you help me put it on?" She asks, still smiling that beautiful smile that makes my world stop.

"Of course." I respond. I stand up and take the necklace out of the box. It has a thin gold chain and an emerald green rectangular pendent with gold gems lining the emerald.

I move her beautifully messy bed head hair away from her neck so I can clasp the chain together. She turns and looks at me, "How does it look?" she asks.

"Beautiful." I smile.

"There's a mirror in the hallway if you want to go look at it on, dear." Mum tells her. She gets up and I watch, smiling, as she walks into the hallway.

"You're so damn smitten." Sirius teases.

"Shove off." I respond with a smile.

"How much of your allowance did you spend on that girl, James?" Dad asks.

I look at him for a moment before responding, "Like.. all of it." I smile awkwardly.

"Good. She's worth it. You hold onto her." He responds smiling.

"I can't hold onto her if she's not mine, Dad." I laugh.

"That'll change soon. I can tell." He responds and I smile back.

"I hope so." I say. She comes back into the room and hugs me, which is by far the best gift I received this Christmas.

"Thank you, James." She smiles.

After dinner, Sirius, Lily and I hang out in my room again, this time without alcohol though. I show Sirius the letter Remus sent me back and we all talk for a little while.

"I'm quite tired, I think I'm gonna go to bed." Lily says with a yawn.

"Ok, goodnight Lily-Flower." Sirius smiles.

"Goodnight," She responds. She walks over to me, leans down and kisses me on the cheek. "Goodnight, James."

I swear my body went into shock. She leaves the room and I look at Sirius who is looking at me with wide eyes.

"Did Lily Evans just kiss me on the cheek?" I ask.

"Ya, I think so." He smiles.

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

Chapter Thirteen up now!

#harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts #hp fandom #harry potter marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #jily fluff #jily #jily fanfiction #james x lily #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #marlene mckinnon #7th year #maurauders fanfic #harry potter #pufflezy

0 notes

maylovexhs · 4 years ago

Text

everytime - SONGBIRD(Chp. 41)

Author’s Note: Damn right I used a FleetwoodMac song in the title. You know it’ serious when they in the chapter lol. First of all, there’s less than five chapters left until I’m completely done. I just want to thank everyone who read even one chapter and has been on this ride with me. It’s the end of an era. Just - thank you. Hope you enjoy.

Catch up on everytime here

December 8th, 2019. London. 9 AM.

“And now playing: Adore You by Harry Styles”

I looked to the vintage red radio that sat on my bedside table.

Walk in your rainbow paradise

I slipped on my black Mary Janes shoes. I stood up from my bed, walking over to my dresser.

Strawberry lipstick state of mind

I grabbed my red lipstick. I walked over to my mirror, smearing the red lipstick on my lips.

I get so lost inside your eyes

I capped the lipstick. I smiled at myself in the mirror. I waved my ponytail back. I looked exceptionally cute today wearing my pink vintage dress.

Would you believe it?

I walked out of my bedroom, passing the many paintings that hanged in the hallway. I walked downstairs, stepping into a ballroom.

You don't have to say you love me

I looked up at the ceiling. It was painted, looking eerily similar to the creation of Adam. Was I in the Sistine Chapel?

You don't have to say nothing

I looked down. Wait, when did I change into a white ball gown? I touched the top of my head. I had a crown on.

You don't have to say you're mine

I looked around the room for someone. There was no one in sight. What the hell was happening?

“Honey” I heard Harry say.

I turned around, seeing him. He was dressed in a black suit. By the embroidered jacket, I was pretty sure it was the same suit he wore at his last show on tour.

“I'd walk through fire for you” Harry sang, smiling as he took my hand. “Just let me adore you”

Harry pulled me close to him. He held our hands up together while his other hand rested on my hip.

“Oh, honey” Harry said.

I began to follow Harry as he started to dance around the ballroom.

“I'd walk through fire for you” Harry sang to me, looking into my eyes. “Just let me adore you like it's the only thing I'll ever do”

Harry spun me and then dipped us.

“H,” I said. “What are you doing?”

“Like it's the only thing I'll ever do” Harry sang back at me, not answering my question.

I looked around the room again but this time my eyes landed on Ashton.

“Ashton?” I asked.

Without any warning, I felt Harry drop me to the floor. I shut my eyes, feeling scared to hit the floor. But I didn’t. I didn’t fall on the floor.

I slowly opened my eyes, seeing I was not in the ballroom again. I looked around where I was, noticing I was in a bedroom. A familiar bedroom.

I looked at one of the photos on the wall. It was Rita at an awards show. I squinted at the photo.

I was by Rita. I must have slept over in one of her guest rooms. Why would I though?

I slowly sat up in bed. I immediately noticed the white bandage around my wrist. The memory of last night flashed in my head. Harry and I talking. Me running after Harry’s car. Me tripping and falling on the floor. The rush of pain in my hand. Being in an hospital room.

I sprained my wrist. I sprained it when I fell. I remember I did. I remember it all.

I remember choosing Harry. I ran after his car to tell him I loved him. I didn’t get the chance to but . . . I finally knew it was Harry I wanted. I just hoped I would get another chance to tell him before it was too late.

I stood up from the bed. I walked out the room, going down the hall. I heard Rita and Ali talking as I walked into the kitchen. Ali and Rita sat at the kitchen table. They looked to me as I stepped in.

“Oh, you’re finally awake” Ali said to me.

“I am” I said.

“I made pancakes” Rita said. “Have some”

Rita pointed to the tray of pancakes on the kitchen counter.

“I’ll have some later” I said, sitting down next to Ali and Rita.

Rita and Ali looked to each other. Did they become best friends while I slept?

“How’s your hand?” Ali asked me.

“It hurts” I said. “But it will get better”

I looked to Rita.

“Did you take me to the hospital?” I asked her.

“Yeah” Rita said. “You scraped your hand bad. Thought you broke a bone too.”

I looked down at my wrapped hand.

Rita changed. After years of not being able to trust her with my secrets, she wasn’t judging me. She took care of me when I was hurt. She really did change.

“Thanks” I said.

Rita nodded.

“We didn’t call Harry yet if you were going ask” She said. “I wanted too but . . .”

“He should clearly hear the news from you” Ali said.

I looked up to Ali.

“I’m planning to” I said. “But I need to call Ashton first. What time it is?”

“Nine” Rita said.

It’s two in the afternoon in New York. Did Ashton have work today?

“I’ll call him in a few hours” I said. “Don’t know if he’s at work”

“You should still call” Ali said. “You and I both know it’s best to get it over with as soon as possible”

“I know” I said. “It’s just-“

“Y/N” Ali cut me off.

I looked at her.

“Call him” She said.

I stared at Ali, a little scared. I wanted to call Ashton. It was the right thing to call him and break the news than have him left waiting. It was right but I felt so wrong for wanting to. Ashton has been so kind to me and I never wanted to hurt him. But calling him and telling him that we were over . . . that would hurt him. How can I tell him if I feel so guilty?

“Just rip the bandage off” Rita said. “That’s what you said to me”

I stood up from the table.

Rip the bandage off. I could tell Ashton. Ashton said so himself he would be happy if Harry and I got together. He said that. He wouldn’t have said that if he didn’t mean it.

“Okay” I said. “I’ll call him”

I turned away from the table. Rita wished me good luck as I headed upstairs to Rita’s guest bedroom. I found my phone sitting on the bedside table. I grabbed it off the table and unlocked it. I went to my contacts and pressed on Ashton. I sat down on the bed, holding my phone to my ear. It started to ring.

I had to tell Ashton the truth eventually. It was going to come out at one point. It was better that I told him now than have him see photos of Harry and I together. I had to tell him. It was right to tell him as soon as possible.

The phone stopped ringing. Ashton picked up.

“Hi” I heard Ashton say.

“Hi” I said in a shaky voice. “I thought you would be at work”

“Oh, no. I’m off today” Ashton said. ”Are you back in New York and wanted to visit me?”

“No, no” I shook my head. “I’m still in London. I don’t think I’ll be back home any soon”

“You won’t?” Ashton asked me. “Not even for the holidays?”

“Oh, I will be” I said. “I always spend the holidays with my friends”

But not him. I won’t spend the holidays with Ashton. I won’t get to spend another day with him.

“Well, at least you won’t be alone” Ashton said. “That’s all that matters”

I bit my lip, feeling them start to tremble.

Ashton will be alone. I was leaving him on his own. How could I? After everything, he didn’t deserve to be on his own.

“Yeah . . .” I said. “You won’t be, right?”

“No, no” Ashton said. “My family always spend it together”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s good”

“Yeah” Ashton said. “It is . . .”

I didn’t speak. I stayed silent for a moment. I was pretty sure Ashton knew something was wrong. He always knew when something was wrong.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Ashton asked me. “You chose him”

I felt a tear roll down my cheek.

“I’m sorry” I said. “I wanted it to be you so bad and-“

“It’s okay” Ashton said. “I’m happy for you. I told you I would be if you picked him”

“But I know you’re not” I said, my voice cracking. “I picked him over you. You were so nice to me, the nicest anyone have ever been to me. I feel so guilty for not choosing you. How aren’t you mad? I hurt you”

Ashton stayed silent for a moment before speaking again.

“You’re right” Ashton said. “I’m mad. But I’ll get over it. I’ll be happy again. I know I will be. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll find someone again.”

“How can you be so sure?” I asked him.

“Well, for one . . . I dated you” Ashton said.

I let out a little laugh. God, Ashton knew how to make me laugh even when I was sad.

“And that’s life, Y/N” Ashton said. “We fall in love and fall out love with people. It hurts now but it gets better”

I forced myself to smile.

“I hope you find someone who loves you like I couldn’t” I told him. “I mean it. You deserve someone who really loves you”

“I will” Ashton said. “I hope he loves you like I couldn’t”

I smiled to myself.

“Thank you, Ashton” I said. “For everything”

“You don’t have to thank me” Ashton said. “I was your boyfriend. I was supposed to love you”

I wiped my tears off of my face.

“I’ll miss you” I told him. “I’ll tell Billie, okay?”

“Tell her after Christmas” Ashton said.

“You know I can’t do that” I said. “Gotta rip the bandage off as soon as possible”

“Well, good luck” Ashton said. “I’ll see you around, hopefully”

Hopefully. Like at show rehearsals.

“Yeah” I said. “I’ll see you around. Goodbye Ashton”

“Goodbye, Y/N” Ashton said.

I smiled, hanging up on Ashton. I stared at my phone. I scrolled through my contacts, searching for Harry. I found his name, pressing on his contact. I held my phone to my ear again.

We fall in love and fall out of love with people. That’s life. I fell out of love with Ashton and fell in love with Harry. That’s my life.

“Hey” I said into my phone. “Are you on your flight to LA?”

#hs au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #hs fanfic #hs fanfiction #hs imagines #harry styles one shot #hs one shot #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #everytime chapters #everytime HS

19 notes · View notes

ourplaceinthecosmosphff · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 5. Truth or Dare

‘TRUE BEAUTY is not of the body or of the face, no, it is a thing of the soul - of fire and air, breath and spirit, something brave and unafraid.’ Segovia Amil

The door opened without a knock; I saw through the reflection in the mirror Cadie stop herself from walking straight in, instead fixing her posture and looking solemnly at us.

“Excuse me, Ma’am.” She said, formally.

“Don’t bother with formalities on my account, Cade.” Louis told her, grinning. “We’re all friends here. I won’t tell Auguste you usually call my sister by her name.”

The secretary grinned, but didn’t move. “There’s a delivery for you.”

“For me?” She replied with a nod.

“I think it’s a dress.”

“Oh!” Louis exclaimed, jumping up from his seat in the two-seat sofa in front of my bed.

I raised a hand in pause to Cass, who was just about finished doing my hair, and turned around to eye my brother suspiciously.

“What is it? And why is it in my name?”

“It’s for you.” He said, walking to the door and speaking to someone outside. “In here, please!”

The Prince of Wales’ butler walked in, solemnly carrying a garment bag over both his arms, which he laid over the couch where Louis had been sitting, before turning around to bow to the both of us, and leave as swiftly as he had come.

“If it’s for me how come I don’t know anything about it?!”

“It’s a surprise.” He shrugged, smiley. “Cass, are you done over there?”

Cass, who had been discreetly spraying my hair as we talked, pulled another couple of strands leading into my bun and took a step back.

“Look at me, please, ma’am? Oh, yes, I’m done. Beautiful!”

I looked in the mirror. My hair was pulled loosely to the back in a bun, with strands falling artfully to the sides of my face. Atop my head, sat Empress Eugénie's 1853 pearl and diamonds tiara, commissioned by Napoleon III to celebrate their marriage. It was adorned with 212 pearls and 1998 diamonds. After Napoleon III’s 1870 defeat, the tiara was surrendered to the Savoyen Royal Family and now it laid on my hair. It was one of my favorites from the Savoyen Crown jewels vault, and Maman had sent me with Georgian pearl earrings to match, which I picked up as Louis rushed Cass and Cadie out of the room.

“I already have a dress, Lou.” I told him, approaching the garment bag.

“How would you know it’s a dress?” He asked, teasingly, to which I only gave him a suspicious look with one raised brow. “Okay, fine, it’s a dress…”

He pat a chair next to the bag and I sat down, just as he sat in the coffee table in front and held both my hands in his.

He cleared his throat. “As I have expressed, I am sorry for the things I said when we were fighting.”

I watched him, silently, then nodded slowly. “Okay?”

“However, there is something I have been meaning to talk to you about, which may have transpired during our, uhm, bagarre.”

“...yes?”

“Maggie, you have to stop letting mom and dad walk all over you.”

“I do not-”

“You have worn at least three outfits this tour I know for a fact that you wouldn't even have purchased if it weren’t to make sure Maman wouldn’t have something to criticize.”

“Excuse you, I think my outfits were very cute!”

“I didn’t say they weren’t!” He clarified, pointing a finger at me. “All I said was… they weren’t you.”

I sighed, resting my back against the chair.

I couldn’t say I hadn’t noticed before that every time I had to do something regal there was a tiny voice in the back of my head wondering, what will mom approve of? before I chose an outfit. Her style had more of a conservative, 50s debutant vibe, while I tended to be more romantic yet modern. It was a fine line that separated both styles, and the advantage usually fell to my mother.

“She’s a very stylish woman.” I countered, and he nodded enthusiastically.

“She sure is. And you are twenty-five years-old! You should be allowed to wear things that are… out there, daring, iconic!”

I laughed. “I’m not exactly a fashion icon!”

“My point exactly. You could be.”

“Louis-”

“I know you have style! I have seen it! You just hold it back because you think you have to!”

“I do have to.”

“It’s the twenty-first century! The Swede Princesses show a lot more skin than you do!”

“They don’t have our mom breathing down their necks.”

“Maggie, fashion is supposed to be fun! But you need a little bit of courage to really shine in it.”

I sighed. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

He leaned back and crossed his legs, confidently. “Let me guess, the dress maman chose for you for tonight's of a light shade, probably blue to match your angelic eyes, with a simple silhouette that covers everything God gave you, am I right?”

I didn’t have to answer; he knew he was right, so instead he merely walked over to his delivery as he spoke.

“I have made some very good contacts since I moved to Britain, in part thanks to religiously attending London Fashion Week. So I made a call.”

He dramatically opened the bag, to reveal a strong, smooth red fabric.

“Red?!”

“I looked it up, the Duchess of Cambridge herself has worn red to a previous state dinner.”

I bit my lip. It did look quite pretty. And much more interesting than the very conservative choice my mother had made.

“Okay, I’ll try it on.” He squealed as I got to my feet. “But just because I’m curious! If I feel it’s too much cleavage, or too out there, I’m putting on the blue dress.”

“Yes!” He threw the garment bag at me and ran to the door. “I’ll go get dressed as you do that, and send Cadie in to help you.”

As I rummaged through the bag, I saw another thing inside.

“Spanx, Louis?!”

He closed the door with a thud.

I needed Cadie’s help to get everything on without damaging my makeup, hair or losing the tiara in the mess, but at last, I was ready.

Cadie approved it. “It’s perfect!” She breathed, amazed.

I walked out of the bathroom to the full body mirror in the room, finding Louis sitting in the sofa again. His eyes widened as he saw me. “Woah.”

“Strapless?!” I asked him, unfazed. “Lou, you know I can’t show cleavage on a state dinner!”

“Oh, no, mustn't let the British know you have arms!” He rolled his eyes, getting to his feet. “What will they tell the church?!”

“Lou!”

“Relax, look, it’s an upper neckline, you’ll be fine! Again, the Swedes wear strapless all the time”

“We’re not Swedish!”

“To be fair, the draping does cover much of your chest.” Cadie added, to Louis’ joy.

“Thank you, Cadie. Why don’t you go wait outside?” I told her, with an eye roll. She left, grinning.

The shape of the dress was almost a mermaid-cut, but the draping made it a lot loser in the lower-body, and added a very interesting detail to the hips; in my case, making it look like I had some.

I sighed. “It’s… beautiful.”

“But?”

“There’s a lot that goes into choosing a dress for an event like this, I can’t just change it last minute.”

“Your tiara matches, I made sure of it. The dress is tighter on your body, but not that much that Maman will have any right to criticize, the dress is red, which is new for you but not against the rules, and most importantly, out of your comfort zone! With the added bonus of the sexy factor!”

“This is the gayest you’ve sounded in your life.”

He put a hand to his heart. “Thank you!”

“I shouldn’t be looking sexy in a state dinner, anyway.”

Through the mirror, I watched him give the windows a look he seemed to be hoping I would see.

“What?!”

“Well, you know, that is true… unless there’s a very handsome man in the state dinner who’s been shamelessly flirting with you for three days straight.”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled despite myself. “I was wondering if that had any influence over this intervention.”

“No!” He replied, quickly. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Although you gotta admit, it’s perfect timing!”

“Harry’s just being…”

“Nice?” He asked, sarcastically, before walking over to adjust the drape. “What’s wrong with nice? You deserve nice.”

He placed a hand over my arm and looked at me in the mirror.

“Chris didn’t deserve you. You know that, right?”

I wanted to roll my eyes at him for bringing him up again, but instead I just nodded, trying to allow the words to take root in my heart.

“But Harry might.” He shrugged. “He seems to at least know you’re way out of his league, that is more than Chris already.” We chuckled. “So wear the dress. Feel as powerful as I know you are and let him know it too.”

So I held his hand, took a deep breath, and said, “Okay.”

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

Once you’ve seen one palace, you’ve seen them all: high ceilings, golden fixtures, red carpets. The one thing that changes is the art in the walls, the people in the paintings, the era of the vases. Buckingham Palace was not different, which is why I wasn't taking too much notice of it as we walked in that night; I had spent our first day in the country admiring Buckingham, tonight was about more.

Tonight was the ultimate opportunity we had to show the world how friendly our countries' relation was, so that the people might pressure their politicians into putting work into fixing the immigrant crisis. In a more direct way, the star of the night were the speeches by the Queen and King. In an indirect way, I had been informed by Cadie on the way over that the pictures of Louis and me with the Cambridges and Harry had become very popular online, and that it wouldn't hurt to look as friendly as possible.

That would be harder, though, because on state dinners the seating chart was made very carefully so that the main visiting royals can mingle with the hosts, and the spare royals can give their attention to the other guests, so they feel heard.

As we walked in, I suddenly felt absolutely wrong in the dress. Though there was limited photographers in State Dinners, they were definitely there. Particularly at our arrival. The flashes were so blinding I could only focus on walking without tripping over my train, but in the back of my mind I couldn’t help but wish I was wearing my comfortable, old blue. Louis had prepared me for it, though.

Back in Clarence House, as we descended the staircase, the last ones to be ready, he reminded me that everything new felt wrong until it didn’t. That was easier to say when all he had to wear was a boring tuxedo he had worn at least twenty times prior.

When we walked into the living room, the conversation stopped. My father and our five person staff stared at me, head to toe, mouths opened, as my brother offered them a cocky look.

“Well,” I said, “I’m ready. Shall we go?”

Though Auguste said nothing, he looked as though he wanted to, but reconsidered when my father merely smiled, offering me his arm, and we made our way out.

Now, walking into the palace, I was reconsidering the choice myself. The dress was beautiful, my hair and makeup were perfectly in place thanks to Arnie’s flawless work, the tiara was a dream come alive; it was me. I was a pile of nerves.

As Louis offered me his hand to climb up the steps, he looked at me, confused.

“Why are you shaking?”

I shrugged, and he grinned.

“Just you wait.” He replied when I questioned this.

Dad led the way, greeting Her Majesty with a kiss on each cheek, before taking one step to say hello to the Prince of Wales and his wife, just down the line. As the heir, Louis was next, so he stepped forward and bowed his head before kissing her as well.

“Your Majesty, is it 1956? Because you look barely a day over 30.”

The Queen let out a naughty giggle, caressing the diamonds in her bracelet shyly.

He was going to make a fantastic King.

“Your Majesty.” I said, bowing down in a curtsey when it was my turn.

“Princess Margueritte.” She greeted as I, too, kissed her cheeks. “You’ve been making quite a ruckus these last couple of days.”

I looked at her, feeling my head tilt sideways. “Have I?”

“I hope my grandson hasn’t bothered you too much.”

“Oh. No! Harry? No. He is… No!” I assured her, feeling my myself blush. “Uhm. He, he is-”

“He's always been a bit like a shark like that. If they stop swimming, they die. Well, he does if he stops flirting.”

I laughed, aware we were being filmed, hoping the press wasn't close enough to pick audio, trying to look as unbothered as possible.

"He's been very friendly and... Welcoming."

"I'm sure."

"What is it?" asked the Prince of Wales, drawing the attention of my father, brother and the Duchess. I shook my head, but the Queen told him merely, "Harry".

It seemed to be enough, though, as the whole group nodded, grinning.

"Oh, yes. It seems my son is a bit taken with your daughter." The prince told my father.

Though his mouth said "oh" in an amused way, I could tell it wasn't the first time he heard of this.

“It doesn’t help she’s exactly his type.“ The duchess commented, making the group laugh again, so I‌ attempted to hold a steady, polite smile on my face.

We moved on to mingle and get in our positions to enter the dining hall; as the guest of honor, since Dad was here, there wasn’t anyone else to wait for. The rest of the guests were already in the dining hall, probably being told to find their seats now. The royal families - hosts and guests - were to enter later, so for now we could be ourselves and enjoy some privacy.

“Breathe.” Louis told me again, as we followed dad around the room. “You look about to pass out.”

“What did she mean by ‘his type’, you think?” I asked him, in a whisper.

“He’s probably dated someone who looks like you.” He replied, grinning.

“More than one... but ‘his type’, though. You think he just likes me because I’m blonde? He just likes my looks?”

“Great relationships have started with looks.” He said, turning around to face me, stopping me in my tracks. “How do you know he’s dated more than one person who looks like you? Have you stalked him online?”

I rolled my eyes, turning to look around the room. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You have a tell, Maggie. When you’re lying you look away so people can’t see your eyes.”

Instead of dignifying his - smart - insight with an answer, I merely hooked my arm in his and walked off, having just identified the people I’d been looking for, and trying to ignore the smile on Louis’ face when he realized where we were going.

“Good evening.”

Though Harry had his back to me, I could watch the reaction of his brother and sister-in-law. They looked at me as I approached, unsurprised I was coming; almost as though they had seen me already. When I got to them, instead of greeting us, their eyes went to Harry.

His shoulders squared back in a long breath, and then he turned around and looked at me. I watched his mouth open and his eyes widen, both so slightly it made me question if I’d imagined it, but also so obvious I wanted to turn around and go back to Clarence House to get changed immediately. It didn’t help he looked me up and down quickly and then gulped, before averting his eyes.

“You both look very dapper tonight.” Catherine said, smiling awkwardly between her brother-in-law and us. She was wearing a dark blue gown and a diamond tiara, hair half up, half down.

“Thank you!” Louis said, returning her smile with none of the awkwardness, and a lot of amusement.

“Yes, we’re very happy to have you.” William said, looking equally as amused. “I’m afraid you’re at the boring table today, Louis.”

Catherine gently edged her elbow to her husband’s arm. “Don’t say boring.” She whispered, making Louis laugh.

“Trust me, I understand what you mean.” He replied; I tried to smile, as it felt like that was the tone the conversation required. But it was hard when Harry still hadn’t looked back at me. “What is the party table, though? Does Harry get a round of Bubbly Pong going?”

They laughed, I mimicked. Harry looked around the room very still. There was an uncomfortable silence as the laughter died down, and suddenly there was a British aide telling us it was time to get to our places in line to enter the dining room.

I gladly took the excuse to move away, feeling sick to my stomach. Had I been excited before? I hardly remembered it anymore.

“I’m in the boring table, too.” Catherine told me, walking quickly to catch up to me as we moved to the middle of the line as the heirs went forward. “It was terrifying on my first time at one of these, but I’ve come to find you can have some interesting conversations, don’t you think?”

I smiled, remembering her nerves from the car the day before. “No, you’re right, it’s not that bad, actually. Though, it’s not as interesting as it seems to outsiders, either, I suppose. My sister is convinced there’s dancing, like in a ball in a Disney movie.”

She laughed, looked back, and then added, whispery, “You make him nervous.”

“What?”

“I’m over there, I’ll talk to you later, I hope.”

We exchanged a smile, even if mine was a bit confused, and she moved to stand next to the Prime Minister.

“You know, in Britain only the married women attend these,” Harry started, standing next to me in line. “And you wouldn’t be allowed to wear one of those until married, either.” He said, staring at the tiara in my head with - I was happy to see - some reverence.

“In Savoy, unmarried women can wear tiaras as long as they’re over twenty-one. Good thing I’m not British.” I said, on a low tone, glad Auguste couldn’t hear such an undiplomatic sentiment.

He grinned. “Yes. I’m very glad about that.”

I looked around, seeing the line basically done. “Are you not going to find your place?”

“I think I’m right where I belong.”

“With me?” I asked, surprised; he returned a flirty smile.

“Yes, Mary, with you.” I rolled my eyes, grinning.

“Do you get all your pickup lines from Taylor Swift songs?” He laughed a bit louder than the current volume level in the room, and more than one pair of eyes turned to look at us.

Usually they wouldn’t pair the ‘lower royals’ together like this. The high ranking ones, yes; queen and king, heir with heir. My father and Louis were both ahead, and would be sitting at the head of the table, with William and Catherine, I supposed. But Harry and I should have been paired with diplomats or dignitaries.

As we walked into the room, to the sound of their national anthem, I noticed two important things. One, Harry looked very handsome in white tie and tails, with his military medals pinned to his chest. Two, as we walked, he gave a grateful smile to a nearby aide, and I wondered if he had arranged to be seated with me. I felt… strangely flattered.

As we got to the table, and the anthem finished, a staffer pulled the chair for me, and we were all seated in silence as, at the center part of the table, they prepared for the speeches.

“I don’t think I can stress this enough, Mary.” He said, whispery, leaning closer to me than it was necessary.

“Marie.” I corrected, now more teasingly than anything else, making him smile as he looked into my eyes.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

I didn’t have a teasing answer for that; I could barely think straight as he kept staring into my eyes from so close.

Suddenly, however, his grandmother’s voice startled us both out of it and we stared ahead as she began to speak.

It felt as though the Queen and my father spoke for hours; I‌ kept my eyes focused ahead hoping to steady my breath and sweaty palms enough to be able to look back at Harry at some point in the night.

Luckily, by the time they started serving the entrees, I‌ had remembered that due to the dinner etiquette I was supposed to make conversation to the man by my other side before Harry. So I took in a deep breath, smiled politely, and asked him about his work.

By the time it was our turn to talk, he gave me a friendly smile and said,

“Dare.”

I sighed a short giggle. We had, now that I‌ thought about, left the truth and dare game unfinished the day before. I‌ had answered last, so I supposed it was his turn. I cracked my brain to think of something that was good, but not scandalous.

“I dare you to,”‌ I‌ started, slowly, staring into his water glass, “tap you fork to your glass loudly to call the attention of the room to yourself, get up, and improvise a speech in honor of my father.”

He barked out a laughter that started louder than any of us thought was appropriate, and we quickly ducked our heads down to hide our playful grins and blushing cheeks; Harry was still laughing. Taking a deep breath, he looked around the room.

“I can’t!”‌‌‌ He replied. “It’s not protocol, it’ll be too weird. It will make the news!”

I sighed, smiling. ‌“Alright, then. I‌ suppose you could… start coughing when the staffer comes back for our plates and then dramatically grab his sleeve and pretend to have an allergic reaction.”

This time his eyes widened as he laughed, leaning closer to me. “Are you trying to get me disowned?!”

I‌ laughed.‌ “Too much? Okay. I dare you to…”‌ I looked around the room, thinking.

The table was shaped like an upside-down U. The Queen and her guests were at the top, horizontal edge; Harry and I were at the start of one of the legs, close to the curve of the table, which was narrow and had no one sitting there. The person closest to the other gentleman on my side, was Catherine, and by her side, ‌my brother.

“I dare you to throw a pea on my brother’s wine glass.”

He leaned closer to me in order to see around the tall centerpiece arrangement in the middle of the table. He smelled of… lime, possibly? And I‌ felt myself leaning back towards him to smell it better.

“Hm, how about Cath? She’s more in my line of vision.”

“No!” I‌ whispered, making one of his eyebrows raise slightly above the other. “She’s nice, I‌ don’t want to mess with her.”

“And your brother isn’t nice?”

I rolled my eyes. “My brother has been a royal since birth and is used to me. Your sister-in-law seems to still be trying very hard to… behave the way people expect her to. I‌ don’t want to make that harder.”

He smiled.‌ “How do you know that?”

I‌ shrugged.‌ “I’m observant. Stop stalling. If you won’t do that, then…”‌ I looked back, seeing the staffers come back around to collect our plates. “When they’re removing your plate, I‌ dare you to burp your thank you.”

“For such a pretty girl, you are… disgusting.”

“Ouch.”‌ I said, on a bored monotone, making him fight a smile.

I‌ kept my eyes ahead as the poor staffer approached by his side to remove the plate, and then I‌ heard a loud and disgusting “thank you”, making me laugh.

We waited until they had left and broke down in a fit of giggles that made me feel very hot; I‌ took a long sip of my water, deciding I had had enough wine for the night.

Throughout the night, the game went on through each course; because I‌ didn’t want him to get any ideas about revenge, I‌ kept choosing truth, and as the first one traumatized him so much, so did he, and we ended up just having a regular conversation. Well, kind of.

He asked how many people I had ever kissed; I did the quick math in my head and told him nine (Chris was my first everything, as he was a childhood friend, and other than one 7 minutes in heaven incident at 16, the rest were all casual dates during the one time when we broke up during University, and since the last break up). So I asked him the same, and he very quietly, blushing, justified his double digit as he stuttered through a lot of excuses, which I thought was cute.

He asked what my pet peeve was, and I talked about wanting to scratch my eyes out when people chewed gum open-mouthed. I asked who was his favorite out of all the famous people he had ever met, and he told me about meeting Paul McCartney, which lead me to volunteer my experience in a Paul McCartney concert in New York a few years before, and soon we were exchanging our favorite Beatles songs, and what were our favorite bands as teenagers, which was particularly cringey for both of us (I had an insanely embarrassing obsession with Britney Spears, he had a gangster rap phase).

He asked how old I was when I stopped playing dolls (13), I asked how old he was the last time he peed himself (20, drunk). He asked what was the last text I sent, and I told him about confirming lunch plans with my coworker for the day after tomorrow. I asked him what was the last thing he searched on his phone, and he told me about googling how to tie a bow tie, which earned him a confused look.

“I know, I know. I ought to know it by now. But I told you about my terrible memory. I can never remember.”

“Okay, okay. Tell me one thing on your internet history you wouldn’t want me to know about.”

He stared at his plate, thoughtfully.

“Well, in the name of our blossoming friendship, I feel I should come clean. After your brother mentioned it at polo, I did google you.”

I nodded. “Yeah, so did I.”

“You did?”‌ I‌ nodded. “Well, may I just say those pictures are low quality, and everything is actually much bigger-”

“I‌ meant I googled myself, you narcissistic piece of work.” I‌ laughed.

“Oh, you googled yourself and‌ I’m narcissistic?!”

I‌ shrugged.‌ “I guess I wanted to see what you would see if you googled me.”‌

“Well, I‌ saw some adorable childhood pictures.‌ Bangs look cute on you.” I rolled my eyes.‌

“Shut up.”

“Found out you have three dogs, amazing. And Christopher looks like trash. You can do better.”

I laughed again, drinking more water just to have an excuse not to have to comment on it.

As we moved to the next course, we took some time to talk to the people on our other sides, so I did my best to focus on the questions the gentleman to my right was asking me.

In the back of my mind, however, something bugged me. I couldn’t stop thinking that he still didn’t know about the first time we met, and the longer I‌ took to tell him, the more uncomfortable it would be when I finally did.

“Truth or dare?”‌ He asked, without preamble, as soon as I turned to him again.

“Truth.”‌ I‌ smiled, hoping he would ask how we met so I could get it over with.

“Which of your siblings is your favorite?”

I‌ sighed; mostly because he had a very irritant, smug grin on his lips.

“I can’t answer that. Also, it’s so unfair that you only have one so I can’t return this horrible question.”

“Yes, that’s why I asked. Go on, you can do it.”

“Fine. Louis. But I‌ have-”

“Oh, wow, Mary!” He said, mock-shock all over his face.

“You asked!” I‌ said, whispery.

“That is cold!”

“I have reasons!”

“Fine, what are the reasons?”

“I was eleven years-old when Lourdes was born! I love her, of course. But I‌ only had a couple years with her before going to boarding school. Louis is just a few years younger than me, we grew up together! We’re just… closer.”

He nodded. “You went to school abroad, right?”

“Well, I‌ had a year in Savoy, then I‌ transferred to Belgium.”

“One year?”

“Yes, and it was easier to see them then, I came home every weekend, spent as much time with them as I‌ possibly could. Even when I was living in Belgium, actually. I still did my best.”

“You came home often?”

“As often as I could.” I said. “Lourdes was three when our grandfather abdicated due to his age. She will never remember a time when she wasn’t the daughter of a king. I was already off at Belgium by then. I wanted to be… I don’t know, to be…”

“There.”

I sighed. “Well, yes.”

“You felt guilty you were away.”

I looked at him, but didn’t say anything for a while.

“I don’t- I don’t know. It’s stupid. I know there was nothing I could do, I just… They were so busy, our parents. Busier than ever. And I just... ”

“You didn’t want them to feel alone.” I looked at him, surprised. He shrugged. “Will did the same for me.”

He reached over and took a sip of his wine. “When… everything happened. Not just the divorce, but everything that came after, I think he felt guilty leaving me.”

I didn’t need to ask what was the ‘all’ that had happened. The entire world knew. For this reason, I think, I wanted to offer something vulnerable in return.

“I came over to Savoy every weekend.” I confessed. “I left school every Friday on a private plane, and went home to see my family as if I still was studying in Savoy. My father shielded me from it, but the press found out and he was under attack for the expense. They called me spoilt, and said my mother insisted I was educated in Belgium out of an unpatriotic whim.”

He gave me a sad look, but I shrugged.

“I just wanted to make sure Louis and Lourdes were alright. I didn’t want them to forget about me, or think I might have forgotten them.”

He nodded. “You want to know what I think?”

I smiled. “I know you’ll tell me.”

He chuckled, silently. “I think you sound like a girl who really liked her country, and her home, and her family, and really wanted to be there, but could not, for some reason, stay in school near them. I wonder why?”

I leaned back, sighing, a grin on my lips. “And what is your theory?”

“Don’t lawyer me, Mary.”

We laughed.

“Marie.”

“It must have been tough.” He added, seriously.

He didn’t know; he seemed to just… understand.

The staff arrived to remove our plates, and we took some time to ourselves. When they left, I turned to him again.

“The girls didn’t like me.” I confessed, softly. “I see now where they were coming from. I was too… too much. Quiet, but I overcompensated a lot. I had… a lot of opinions, which I mostly shared with the teachers, in class, when forced. I was always called on and, of course, everyone knew, or thought they did, every detail about me, and my family. And they all seemed to think I needed to be… more.”

“More what?”

I shrugged. “Everything. Or maybe less of everything... I don’t know, I just wasn’t enough. I just wanted… for no one to know who I was.”

“So you moved to Belgium.”

I smiled, sadly. “No one cared who my father was there. They found out, eventually. But I already had a couple of nice friends by then. It was all I needed.”

He smiled. “I hated school.”

I rolled my eyes. “Everyone did-”

“No, I… I really did. I’ve never been smart.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m serious. I don’t mean it in self-pity, either. It’s just… I’ve never been good at it. I don’t have an affinity for academics. I never had… an affection for any subjects, at all. I always just liked… the outdoors. The conversations, the connections with others. The adventure. I hated being inside.”

I smiled. “People are different. The only problem is the system that convinces us there’s only one way to be.”

After dessert, as soon as the Queen and King stood up, we were allowed to, as well. We were then ushered to another saloon where drinks were going to be served, and guests could mingle with other guests other than the ones they had been seated with at dinner, and soon after say their official goodbyes to the Queen.

The gentleman that had sat to my right introduced me to his wife, and we talked about their children for a while before I felt the conversation die out and gave a secret signal (adjusting my earrings) for Cadie to rescue me.

“Hello…” Louis grinned when I‌ joined him, where he was observing our father from a distance.‌ His tone alone got me to blush.

“Shut up.”

“Why? I was just going to say you and Prince Harry sure seemed to be having fun.”

I sighed, “We did.”

“That’s nice.”‌ The tone was different this time, more… honest. Less mocking. So I smiled in return.

“And I deserve nice.” I repeated his line back to him, making his smile grow.

“Auguste noticed it, too.”

I sighed again.‌‌ “Let me guess. Have I‌ behaved promiscuously?”

“He is not sure if anyone will have noticed, but he thinks it’s a bad match.”

“Ugh, what is this, the eighteenth century?”

He shrugged.‌ “He said something about both of you being spares, and none having a throne to inherit, it’s just not good politics.”

I gave him a flabbergasted look. “What?!”

“I’m obviously kidding!”‌ He laughed, but I‌ rolled my eyes. “Look, just don’t let him talk you out of it, okay? Harry is great. He’s funny, and polite, and according to Kate, seems to really like you.”

“What? What did she say?”

He grinned again. “She told me in confidence, I‌ can’t repeat it.”

“Louis!”

“He’s nice!‌ And you deserve nice!”

“I know…”

“…he’s also super hot, which doesn’t hurt.”

“Shut up.”‌ I replied, but with a grin of my own this time.

“What, you’re telling me you don’t think he’s super hot?”

“That’s not- I‌ don’t- Shut up!”

I‌’d seen Harry approaching out of the corner of my eye, and was desperate for him to stop talking.

“Hello.”‌ He greeted.

“Hi, Harry…”‌ Louis greeted him with the same teasing tone he had used to greet me.

“…Hi.”‌ Harry’s smile grew a bit more, and he blushed looking at the floor, uncomfortably.

“Stop.” I‌ whispered to my brother.

“Oh, look. I’m getting a call.” He returned, dead-faced. showing us his dark, silent phone, which was most definitely not receiving a call. “Talk to you later.”

Harry laughed as I‌ sighed. “Sorry, he’s…”

“Hey, do you want get out of here?” I stared, intrigued. His smile dropped as regret took over his face. “No!‌ I‌ just mean… To walk around, in the palace. See some cool closed wings and stuff.”

I‌ laughed. “Sure.”

“Really?”‌ He seemed genuinely surprised, and my heart ached.

I looked around at the room, enough people looking at us just because we were who we were. Our brothers looking away from us in a way that made me sure they were very aware of our movements. Auguste was standing by my father, but keeping an eye on me from the corner of his eyes. Cadie gave me a discreet thumbs up from the corner.

I remembered we were meant to be leaving the country tomorrow morning, and thought of how he still didn’t realize when we met. I remembered just how much he annoyed me only three days ago, and realized I didn’t know when I might see him next. Sure, it was almost time to leave, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I wanted to see this through.

And I deserved nice.

So as he watched me with expectant eyes, I felt my heart jump in my throat and smiled as I said, “…yes.‌ Lead the way.”

--- ---- ---

Margueritte’s State Dinner Outfit

[A//N: Thank you so much for reading!!!!!!! I’d love to know your thoughts, please drop me a message here or like this page? Again, it’s a privilege, thank you for reading! Next week: Harry and Margueritte go on a secret Buckingham palace adventure!]

#prince harry fanfiction #prince harry fanfic #princeharryfanfic #princeharryfanfiction #princeharryff #Prince Harry #brf #fanfiction #fanfic #Modern Royalty AU #modern royalty fanfic #modern royalty fanfiction #chapters #OPITCphff

26 notes · View notes

monicalorandavis · 5 years ago

Text

Let’s all quit fucking around and give Renee her Oscar for ‘Judy’ now

I am several months late to the ‘Judy’ party. But due to a trip getting cancelled last minute I’m having a staycation instead of a vacation. (Tomato, tomahto!) Needless to say, I’ve got time on my side and I’m watching movies, baby. Time for Judy Garland, baby. Because that’s showbiz, baby!!!

I regret even joking about the razzle dazzle of show business because for Judy Garland show business, the very business she adored, also destroyed her. And that whole journey through the dark, twisted roller coaster of entertainment is sort of the thesis statement of this whole thing.

“The biz” was a cruel bitch to the greatest entertainer of all time. Her nic-name was Miss Show Business for crying out loud and yet when we meet Zellweger, playing the title character in ‘Judy’, she’s in the final year of her life, struggling to keep a roof over her children’s heads. She’s gaunt, exhausted, addicted to pills, alcohol and can’t manage to meet a decent man to save her life.

And instead of nitpicking every wrong choice that led her there, director Rupert Goold allows us into the plodding sojourn that was Judy Garland’s final tour in England. She’d lost custody of her children to ex-husband no. 3 and finally went across the pond where her fans were still willing to pay top dollar for the Hollywood legend.

But when she gets to England we peer into the sheer loneliness that encompasses the lives of the super famous. No friends to share dinner with, kids thousands of miles away, and vulturous men always lurking on the sidelines. It’s grim and bleak and you can’t imagine things ever getting so bad. And yet they were. But, again, and I have to stress this because some power of Judy Garland compels me to underline this as a fellow woman in the arts, this is not the story of how Judy Garland ended up broke. It’s the story of how she tried her damnedest to make enough money to get her kids back because we actors are tryers.

She was a relentless performer who tried. Over and over again. She tried and tried and tried. She tried to put on a good show every night and we watch Zellweger lose the battle to those cloying pills and that seductive martini until she quite literally falls on her face. No, she doesn’t pretend like it didn’t happen. She gets up and is booed off stage and she barks back. And then she gets fired and gets word that her children want to stay with their father in Los Angeles. The final twist of the knife. Zellweger delivers that final conversation to her youngest daughter with aplomb and grace. The Judy Garland we wanted to know - Judy Garland, the mother. Tortured, flawed, generous and loving. A sensitive, soulful singer who had to fight for every scrap of dignity she ever got.

And I kept finding myself wanting to change how things turned out. She was so, so good. So talented. So kind. So willing to give herself to the audience, to new friends. She deserved more.

In one scene, that gives me chills to even think about, she asks two male fans to dinner and they can’t believe their luck. Only after dragging Judy Garland around the streets of London all night in hopes of a meal do they agree to host her at their home just blocks away. She obliges graciously and, of course because a living legend is in your home, they totally ruin the meal. And she couldn’t be a more gracious guest. She eats the terrible, soggy eggs, then, sings while her new friend plays the piano and, then, comforts him when he crumples into a ball of tears, overcome by this grand situation he finds himself in. She knows, and we know, that these two men are gay and the point is not belabored or sentimentalized. Instead, Goold treats us, the audience, like grown-ups with enough context to understand how important Judy Garland was to the gay community. She was their patron saint. Be it all the struggle, the pain under the surface and the resolve to put one foot in front of the other and sing her heart out in spite of it all. A metaphor for being gay, perhaps. Her life and legacy meant something to the community and still does. (The Stonewall Riots occurred on the day Judy Garland died and I think it played no small part in pushing things over the edge that fateful day.)

What a fight it was to be Judy Garland. A star who’d been spit out by Hollywood. Any actress over 40 will tell you their version of the story. And maybe no one understands that today quite like the star of ‘Judy’, Miss Zellweger.

I don’t think Renee Zellweger’s ever been better. She fucking soars. She sings her ass off (and I didn’t know the bitch could sing, not like this). In some instances, the resemblance is so striking between Zellweger and Garland it baffles the mind to reconcile that you are not looking at the original Judy, herself. Somehow, Zellweger completely transforms even the expression in her eyes as if the thought process, or the experience, or perhaps even the torment, is the same between both starlets. How else can an actor arrive at the exact same place as the person they are imitating? How do you achieve not just a version of a person, but the person, themselves?

I do not know what spiritual voodoo Zellweger achieved (move over, Christian Bale!). But this performance is an achievement of the highest order. I imagine Garland herself, at times her toughest critic, would be thrilled to watch the film even in its hardest moments.

Because Judy, and I suspect Renee, are consummate performers. Completely engrossed. Not engrossed. Obsessed. No, not obsessed. Addicted...

Judy Garland was completely addicted to the stage. Yes, Lady Gaga coined “I live for the the applause” but that’s only because she did her homework. Any diva in training gives their respect to the o.g. Judy Garland devoted her entire heart and soul to her performances. Often to her detriment, and to the detriment of those around her.

To be so completely talented, I imagine, is a curse to the performer. And when you’re a mother, a curse to your children. The performer’s gift has the power to kill them. It can drive them to the brink of self-destruction. The pressure and the anxiety of not performing at the same level again and again, night after night, drove Judy to the brink. The pills and the booze became absolutely necessary.

Years ago, I recall news stories about Renee Zellweger suggesting addiction and anorexia. She had wasted away, rumors swirling of drug abuse chased her - she’d been branded with a scarlet letter.

And then, I saw her in person, in Santa Monica. I was inside a Barnes and Noble bookstore (a rare occurrence nowadays in the era of dwindling brick and mortar). She was skin and bones. I barely recognized her. She looked...deranged. Her eyes were bulging nearly as much as the veins in her neck. I didn’t know why she was so distraught but my eyes fixed on her like a cheetah staring down a gazelle. She was just on the other side of the glass, and then she locked in on me. Suddenly, she was the cheetah. She stared at me, then a sour look fell upon her and she dashed away. I was shaken. I had never felt so judged by a famous person before. I had never shared such a fraught moment with a star of her caliber. But then, I wondered, maybe she hadn’t been looking at me at all. What if the glass was opaque and she wasn’t staring at me at all? What if she was looking at her own reflection that whole time? Could it be that she stared at herself that way, with that loathsome look in her eyes?

And now my heart breaks because I do believe she saw herself. She saw something in herself that she couldn’t stand and she fled from the reflection. Just like Judy would’ve ran. Just like Judy.

I’ve asked so many questions and I apologize but I must ask a few more:

What if Renee Zellweger doesn’t win an Oscar for ‘Judy’? Oof. Yes, I remember that she won for ‘Cold Mountain’ in 2004 but it was sort of payback because she’d been nominated for ‘Chicago’ in 2003 and was a shoe-in (but lost) and even that had been a sort of a gimme nom since she’d been nominated in ‘02 for ‘Bridget Jones’ Diary’ and lost even after she stole the entire world’s heart.

In a parallel way, Garland was famously snubbed for a ‘Star is Born’ in 1955 when she gave the performance of her life and lost to the quintessential Hollywood beauty, Grace Kelly. After a lifetime of comparisons and cruel remarks about her looks, it had to feel like a stab to the heart to lose to the pretty girl, the princess. Poor Judy. She just wanted to be beautiful and thin. But instead she was talented and charming. And that’s not to say she wasn’t beautiful and thin, she just didn’t fit the stupid, totally arbitrary model of beauty. And she eventually wasted away to a skeleton. Why did we do that to her? Why do we do that still?

I don’t know. But I do know that Renee Zellweger should win this god damn Oscar.

#judy #judy garland #wizard of oz #renee zellweger #oscars #oscars 2020 #grace kelly

28 notes · View notes

sippin-on-red-wine · 5 years ago

Text

No. 6 Collaborations Project: A review!

It’s been a week since this fabulous album has dropped into our hands. Click “Keep reading to hear my thoughts on each track!

Track 1. Beautiful People Khalid ★★★★ Favorite Lyric: You look stunning dear/So don’t ask that question here

Thoughts/Reflection: Ed keeps referring to this song as ‘cozy’ and I completely agree. The vibe is cool. I love the tone of his voice here and I think it meshes really nicely with Khalid’s. The content isn’t super relatable, but I think we can all take something away from this one. It’s a good note on self-awareness and being able to see the reality in things that may look glamorous on the surface.

Track 2. South of the Border feat. Camila Cabello, Cardi B ★★★★★ Favorite Lyric: So join me in this bed that I’m in/Push up on me and sweat darlin’/So I’m gonna put my time in/Won’t stop until the angels sing

Thoughts/Reflection: This track is literally freaking scorching hot fire. TBH I’m surprised that they led the album with IDC and not this one. It feels like big radio potential to me. Regardless, this song is an absolute BOP - so catchy and so fucking sexy.

I know Ed’s Spanish leaves something to be desired ☺ But I feel like we can cut him some slack after singing (yet another) song dedicated to going down on a woman. The ginger is forgiven! Five stars for him! And I’m going to have SOTB on repeat all summer (or for the rest of my life).

Oh, I also really like Cardi on this song. IDK if she’s problematic or w/e, I don’t really follow her in the media at all. But her verse is fun. (I think Ed got a lil jungle fever AY) bahahahah

Track 3. Cross Me feat. Chance the Rapper, PnB Rock ★★★★★ Favorite Lyric: Know she gonna slide anytime you bitches talk shit/Keep a lil blade in her fuckin’ lip gloss kit

Thoughts/Reflection: Love love love LOVE this one. It just makes you want to get up and DANCE the damn thing! I have to laugh a little at the thought of Ed being hard & tough, lol, but it’s a cool concept nonetheless. Like he said in his Charlemagne interview, it’s kind of a love song…. but a different tempo. It’s catchy as all hell and Chance’s verse is fucking cool.

Full points.

Track 4. Take Me Back to London feat. Stormzy ★★★★★ Favorite Lyric: Coz you can win BRITS (it don’t stop)/And you can do Glasto (headline slot)

Thoughts/Reflection: Fuck. This song, though. IIt’s the first one that jumped out at me when I did my first full album listen. And I haven’t stopped listening since. The chorus is so syncopated. Stormzy is sick on this track, I love his voice so much. And it just feels like the two of them really play off each other nicely and probably had a blast making this song.

Also, Ed flexing “Grossed half a billi on the Divide tour/No I’m not kidding what would I lie for” is BDE and I’m personally really here for it.

This song is a banger and you should dance in your kitchen to it while baking pastries. FIve stars for you, Big Mike and Teddy.

(Dear God please let Stormzy guest live in Ipswich)

Track 5. Best Part of Me feat. YEBBA ★★★★ Favorite Lyric: it’s not a lyric but that part when Ed & YEBBA are harmonizing perfectly in the whoooaaAAaaaA

Thoughts/Reflection: I love the sound on this song! His voice is so raw and tender here. It reminds me of Plus era, but grown up. I think it may be how delicately he approaches the syllables in his verse and the chorus. YEBBA’s tone is super rich and lovely, and they sound great together.

I’m taking a “star” off here because I don’t love the lyrics. I get that he’s being vulnerable and showing insecurities in verse 1, but then YEBBA follows that up with lamenting about misplacing things and being late for the train? It doesn’t seem to match up with admitting physical/bodily insecurities. Also, it could just be that I hate that Ed thinks of himself this way.

DUDE IS HOT AF

Track 6. I Don’t Care feat. Justin Bieber ★★★★ Favorite Lyric: I don’t like nobody but you/I hate everyone here

Thoughts/Reflection: Oh god. When did this song come out? I’m trying to think back to my first impressions of it, LOL. It’s bright and poppy and of course it went and stayed #1 all summer (thus far). I remember thinking it was so cool that the melody is super mainstream and upbeat, but the underlying theme is around social anxiety. “Crippled with anxiety/But I’m told I’m where I’m sposed to be”

I mostly skip this one now that the full album is out, but I think I listened to it for a full 48 hours on repeat when it first dropped. Bieber is problematic and shit, and honestly I don’t think he adds much to the song. I really like Ed’s acoustic version where he does the whole thing solo.

The bridge slaps. Literally. I love that clapping bit behind it. I wish that Ed hadn’t fucked up the lyrics to the bridge in the acoustic version lolololol

Four stars, will bop along for many moons to come

Track 7. Antisocial feat. Travis Scott ★★★★★ Favorite Lyric: So antisocial but I don’t care/Don’t give a damn I’m gonna smoke here/Got a bottle in my hand bring more tho

Thoughts/Reflection: DID YOU SEE HIM GUEST AT TRAVIS’ SHOW LAST NIGHT? This song was already one of my faves but holy shit. In interviews, Ed talks a lot about feeling awkward on stage without a guitar - but it didn’t look like that last night. He was bouncy as all hell, sounded great, looked great. Looked like he was loving the crowd’s energy too.

And the music video? That deserves a post all on it’s own.

This track is pretty short but it’s packed with good stuff. Ed’s intro is really strong here, the chorus is interesting despite the repetition. I physically can’t help but groove along to this tune. I’m sorry. I have no say in the matter

Track 8. Remember the Name feat. Eminem, 50 Cent ★★★★★ Favorite Lyric: 20 years old is when I came in the game/And now it's eight years on and you remember the name/And if you thought I was good, well, then I'm better today

Thoughts/Reflection: YES. YES. YES. The song intros with a reference to Ipswich, bitch. I love how Ed makes those connections back to his upbringing.

It’s a little unreal that these three iconic voices/styles can flow so well on a song and still sound so balanced.

I’ve got this one on repeat too. I’m determined to learn all of the words damnit!!

Five stars for a tune that I would love to see performed live someday.

Track 9. Feels feat. Young Thug, J Hus ★★★

Favorite Lyric: See you wigglin’, jigglin/If I have a bite will it taste like cinnamon?

Thoughts/Reflection: This song is fine. I like the feature verses. The song just doesn’t stick out that much for me.

Track 10. Put It All on Me feat. Ella Mai ★★★

Favorite Lyric: I try to be strong but I got demons/So can I lean on you?/I need a strong heart and a soft touch

Thoughts/Reflection: Falsetto. Falsetto everywhere. I love that! Ella Mai’s voice is so rich. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot more to say on this one. It’s not a song I’m playing on repeat, but I don’t skip it either.

Track 11. Nothing On You feat. Paulo Londra, Dave ★★★★ Favorite Lyric: You and I/Whisky on ice/Maybe later we can turn down all the lights

Thoughts/Reflection: This song is SEXY and cool…. ‘smoke clouds and the scent of perfume’.... the imagery. Man. More falsetto here. Also, please go look up the translation of Paulo Londra’s verse. Thanks. I’m sweating. Is it hot in here? This album is *sexual*

ALSO THE ‘BRRRP’ AFTER “they keep ringing my phone” bahahahahah

Track 12. I Don’t Want Your Money feat. H.E.R. ★★★★★

Favorite Lyric: I need you here for the good times and the bad times/Yeah the pullin’ out my hair gettin’ mad times/Not just the when I’m in your bed on my back times

Thoughts/Reflection: THIS IS SUCH A GODDAMN TUUUUNEEEEEE!!!!!!! I love this song so much. 10/10 jamming out to this in the car at every opportunity. Finger snappin’ cool r&b vibe. I love the super quick tempo (but not quite rap?) in Ed’s verses. And I always appreciate the little double-meaning-references in Ed’s songs - like ‘diamonds, silver or gold’ means $$$ of course, but also just success in terms of album sales performance.

TBH when I saw the title on Ed’s tracklist reveal, I totally thought this would be a slow mushy love song about how Ed’s lucky to have found someone who wasn’t into him for his money. This was a pleasant surprise!! I love that it’s a little angsty.

Five STARS bitch I love this song and y’all are sleeping on it

Track 13. 1000 Nights feat. Meek Mill, A Boogie Wit da Hoodie ★★★★

Favorite Lyric: Birds eye view/Pay my dues/For a two-mile queue

Thoughts/Reflection: i been ON for a thousAND NIGHTSSSSS NEW YORK TO LONDONNN DIFFERENT CITY EVERY DAYAYYY

1000 Nights: a flexy bop and I love it

This song is about the Divide tour which has been going for approximately 572 years. Not that I’m complaining.

But it’s cool (how many times have I said ‘cool’ in this post? don’t answer that). Ed loves touring and that comes out in this song. And Meek’s verse is so fun to rap along to!

Four stars.

Track 14. Way To Break My Heart feat. Skrillex ★★★★★

Favorite Lyric: I can’t stop thinkin’ bout her/And her lips on mine, so soft/Feelings I don’t know the name of

Thoughts/Reflection: biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch.

This song is NOSTALGIC and I simply adore it. It has that same… “cozy” feel that Beautiful People does. Which is strange, considering it’s a song about heartbreak. But it’s just so. Soft. And warm.

We’re back to super soft placement of words and such pure tone.

It’s hauntingly beautiful. And yet uptempo! Bless, Skrillex. I especially love the drums that come in during the chorus, after “you’re still gone, and i’ll say”

PS, the soft sound of mouth smacking at :13. Use headphones.

Some of my favorite Ed songs are ones about heartbreak, and I appreciate that he included one here. About an imaginary heartbreak 👀

Take another five stars from me, bud

- Track 15. BLOW feat. Chris Stapleton, Bruno Mars ★★★★★

Favorite Lyric: Hot damn/Pop it like a pistol mama/You got me down on my knees/Baby please?

Thoughts/Reflection: *laughing nervously*

Again, definitely not what I expected out of this track when the titles were all revealed. I LOVED release day on this one. The world collectively lost their shit. I need nothing more in this world than to see this song performed live, especially with a full band and Ed on an electric guitar.

I’m still not over this loud, full, energetic song full of men bellowing about wanting to, well, fuck.

Bye

(five stars from me and also my 62 year old coworker Jan)

:::OVERALL:::

This album is SO GOOD MATE and I already cannot wait until the next collabs project! Ed blessed us with 15 amazing tracks to tide us over until Subtract comes out. They’re so different from his normal album stuff and I really love to see him try new sounds and get to create/collaborate with artists he admires so much.

it also has me real hot and bothered lmao

Thanks for coming to my tEd talk.

#ed sheeran #no 6 collaborations project #album review #surprise bitches i love every song #what did you think would happen

35 notes · View notes

kalluun-patangaroa · 6 years ago

Text

An Audience With… Brett Anderson

UNCUT Magazine

December 2010

Interview: John Lewis

Brett Anderson has some fans in odd places. This month, Uncut’s email boxes are positively heaving with questions from adoring fans in Peru, Serbia, Japan, New Zealand, Belgium, South Africa, Slovenia and Russia. “I’m quite popular in odd places,” he says. “Suede had No 1s in Chile and Finland. We were massive in Denmark. If asked why Denmark, my stock answer was that, well, I’m a depressed sex maniac and so are most Scandinavians. We toured China long before most Western pop groups. I remember playing Beijing, to a crowd divided by armed soldiers facing the audience. That was pretty scary.” Anderson is currently back in the Far East, speaking to Uncut as he overlooks Kowloon Harbour, preparing for solo dates. Later in the year he’ll be in London for a big O2 show with Suede (sans original guitarist Bernard Butler, although the two remain good friends). “I wanted to check out what the stage was like at the O2 Arena,” he says. “So I went to see The Moody Blues with my father-in-law. Come on, you can’t argue with ‘Nights In White Satin’. What a tune!”

I presume you’re aware of the ‘reallybanderson’ Twitter account purporting to be by you. Amused or offended? Helen, Birmingham

Twitter is one of those strange things, like Facebook, that I don’t have anything to do with. But I have to grudgingly admit that the reallybanderson Twitter updates are rather funny [starts giggling]. And the guy doing it is obviously a bit of a Suede fan, because there are some very detailed references to b-sides and bla-di-blah. I can’t exactly complain about it without coming across as a real tit. It’s just fun and no-one really thinks it’s me, it’s a cartoon version of me reflected through some fairground mirror. I don’t think anyone reads it and thinks, ‘Oh, Brett Anderson has Jas Mann from Babylon Zoo doing his washing up, or Brett punched Damon in the street.’ It is, ha ha ha, quite witty. Having shown them the picture inside the Best Of Suede CD, my kids would like to know why you refused to feed me for five years? Also – can my mum have her top back? And are you around for a trip to the Imperial War Museum? Bernard Butler

Yes, what most fans don’t realise is that we kept Bernard in a cage for five years, and fed him edamame beans and tap water. Regarding his mum’s top – he should know that it’s long been ripped up and destroyed by the front row of the Southampton Joiners, or somesuch venue. Now, the Imperial War Museum – me and Bernard were talking about getting older the other day and he said: “Are you finding yourself increasingly interested in British military history?” And I have become oddly fascinated with watching WWI docs on YouTube. It’s not just the personal tragedies, but the sense of it being a shocking transition point between the Victorian world and modernity. The idea that they were going into war on horseback, and by the end of it they were in tanks. Blimey. So tell Bernard I will be going to the museum, soon… What’s your favourite Duffy song? Kris Smith, Wembley

I thought “Rockferry” was a very beautiful, stirring track. So that’s the only one I know well, but I’m really pleased for Bernard that that was a big success [Butler co-wrote and produced much of the album]. He’s an incredibly talented person and works incredibly hard, and he’s one of those people who is just obsessed with music. People like that deserve success. Did I ask him to join the Suede show at the O2? No. I told him about it, but he’s moved on so far from Suede that it would have been odd, and we’ve had a completely different lineup since he left. I don’t think he’d want to be jumping around a stage again! He’s much happier doing what he does now, I think he’s really found his calling. Do you still have your cat, Fluffington? Claire Vanderhoven, Holland

Unfortunately, he’s ascended to cat heaven. He had 15 long years of adoration. Am I getting another cat? Well, I recently got married, and my wife brought two Italian greyhounds with her. I don’t know if anyone is aware of them, but Italian greyhounds are like little cats. Ours are eight years old but look like miniature foxes, bonsai greyhounds. But incredibly fast, like little bullets. When they’re not running they spend their whole life under the duvet. Someone once told me they were bred by the Pharaohs as bedwarmers! Brett, do you have a copy of the single I recorded with Suede: “Art” b/w “Be My God”? If so, could I have one? Mike Joyce

Mike, I think I destroyed my copy years ago. I’m not one to keep memorabilia. They’re about 100 quid on eBay. Mike was an early member of Suede. We were advertising for a drummer and listed The Smiths as an influence. Then at an audition, their drummer pokes his head through the door and says, “Hello, lads!” Ha! It was a bit Jim’ll Fix It. I don’t think anyone thought it was going to last, Mike was far too big a name for us. But he just took us under his wing, guided us through the industry, and was so charming. I still keep in contact with him. What’s the weirdest story you’ve heard about yourself? Badabingbadaboom

Someone once told me that they’d heard a story about me wanting to shit in someone’s mouth. But I also heard the same story about David Byrne, so I think it’s one of those urban myths that gets transferred from one slightly kooky pop star to another. That’s probably the most unsavoury thing I’ve heard about myself. Maybe I should give it a go. Which actors would you like to play the lead members of Suede in a biopic? James Kumar, Manchester

This is the kind of thing we talk about on tour. Matt Osman is convinced I should be played by Peter Egan, who was in Ever Decreasing Circles. I think Nic Cage should play Matt. Arsène Wenger reminds me of Bernard. That’s what Bernard will look like when he’s 60. Billy Idol could play Simon Gilbert, couldn’t he? Would you ever consider working in musical theatre? Neil Tennant

It’s funny he should ask that, because only the other day, I was listening to the album Neil and Chris did with Liza Minnelli in the late ’80s. Results, I think it’s called, with “Losing My Mind”. That sounded great, so emotive, and real. I’m a big fan of the Pet Shop Boys, they’re one of those amazing bands that almost created their own genre. But anyway, musical theatre. Yeah, I think I would. Sondheim? Rodgers and Hart? Definitely. I’m always open to new ideas. Musical theatre sounds like it’s going to have camp undertones, but I’d love to do it in an interesting way. What’s the worst song you’ve ever written? Mark Catley, Christchurch, NZ

That’s a good question. I wrote lots of terrible songs that were never recorded in the early days. But there’s a song called “Duchess” – a B-side to something from the Head Music era [actually to 1997 single “Filmstar”] – which is pretty rubbish. I’ve often regretted the production on certain songs, like “Trash” and “Animal Nitrate”, even though they’ve been pretty good songs. But you can’t go messing around with things like that. You start to interfere with what people originally liked about it. I also think people like your mistakes, as they give your work humanity. I quite like that about Prince. He seems to throw stuff out – some of it genius, some unlistenable – but all quite honest. I respect that. Do you enjoy art? Excited about Gauguin at the Tate? Katarina Janoskova, London

Absolutely. I’m a big fan of Gauguin and the post-impressionists. My favourite visual artist, if I had to narrow it down to one, would be Manet, the pre-impressionist. Not Monet, who doesn’t do it for me. But Manet had this revolutionary technique of painting on black, which gives his pictures a real depth, there’s something very sumptuous about his paintings. And further back, the kind of medieval-style stuff like Holbein and Brueghel – they’re so well observed and so real. You look at these pictures of people who lived 500, 600 years ago, you can imagine them walking down Tottenham Court Road now, the same face, they’re so real. It’s a little window into the past. I’ve quite got into art recently. It’s all part of expanding yourself and your education, appreciation of beauty in life, innit? Now that you’re no longer coming to work in Bow, how are you coping without the salad pitta? Leo Abrahams, musician and producer

Ha ha! I’ve been working on an album with Leo, in his studio, and I have an unhealthy obsession with East London’s kebab shops. You don’t get many good kebab shops in west London. It reminds me of being a student. I’m surprised Leo’s got the time to email you questions! He’s far too busy producing Eno or Grace Jones or Florence & The Machine. He also does these bizarre things where he plays entirely improvised gigs, no rehearsals. And that inspired the latest solo LP I’ve done with him. It was based on improvs. Me, Leo, Seb Rochford on drums, and Leopold Ross on bass just jammed for days, cut up them up and improvised, and did overdubs. It’s a full-on rock record. I love Leo, he’s great. He never takes the easy option. He pushes you a bit, which can be terrifying. Can you give us not-so-slim-in-2010 Suede fans some health tips? Simon Quinton, Oxford

My wife is a naturopath – she’s conscious of what she eats, so we eat a lot of sushi and seeds. I’ve got into cycling recently, particularly living in London, through the parks and the backstreets. It makes you fall back in love with the city. I cycled to Bow the other day from my house in Notting Hill. So that’s staving off the fortysomething belly. I’m sure I’ll get it when I’m fiftysomething. I’m looking forward to that. What do you think of Gorillaz? Ruiz, São Paulo, Brazil

To be honest, I don’t know much about them. I like the drawings. I guess that’s a veiled question about my relationship with Damon? Well, we don’t have a relationship to talk about. We all have things that happened years ago, rivalries and so on, and people assume that they’re still on your radar and part of your life. It’s like some musical soap opera, often one that’s been fabricated, without much substance. I have different issues in my life now. Is the art of songwriting dead? If it isn’t, who is flying the torch? Paloma Faith

Oh, it’s not dead at all. I’m constantly inspired by new music. If you look on YouTube, there’s a clip of me singing Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful”. When you’re covering stuff it’s interesting to try things that are out of your genre, which gives it a frisson. So I always try songs that aren’t, you know, British indie, stuff like Blondie, or The Pretenders. That Christina Aguilera song is amazing. I try not to look at songs as the finished product, I look at it as the chords and the melody and the words, like sheet music to be interpreted. You’ve got to keep moving with your musical appreciation. I loved the last Horrors record, I liked The National, The Drums, These New Puritans, lots of stuff. I never listen to the records I grew up with. Why bother? It’s all in my head! Brett, you’re from Haywards Heath. What’s the deal with the swimming pool there? It’s deep in the middle, not at one end. What’s your take on that? And were you ever caught out by it? P Newman, Brighton

I don’t know what they’re referring to at all, but funnily enough my dad used to work there as a swimming pool attendant. And I don’t really know how he got the job because he couldn’t swim. It’s lucky there weren’t any accidents. Every Tuesday, we had to troop down to the local pool, and everybody would be pointing at my dad saying, “Oh look there’s your dad, he’s working as a pool attendant.” And I was hoping none of them would start drowning, ’cos my dad wouldn’t be much use. Still, this was the early ’80s, and I guess we all thought the world was going to end any second with a nuclear bomb. Ha ha.

#suede #brett anderson #press #interview #bernard butler #mike joyce #neil tennant #leo abrahams

31 notes · View notes

dontblamemebrucemademecrazy · 5 years ago

Text

L💘VER

Good morning Swifties! No one asked for my track by track thoughts on Lover but I want to share them anyway so here we go!

I Forgot That You Existed - what. a. great. opener. I love this song, it feels like Taylor shook off her reputation snakeskin and is ready to rock her Lover wings. I can feel the happiness in Taylor’s voice singing this.

Cruel Summer - A WHOLE BOP. I cannot wait to scream at the top of my lungs .~*HE LOOKS UP GRINNING LIKE A DEVIL AND ITS NEWWWWWWW*~. on tour with all my fellow Swifties. One of my absolute favorites on the album (it’s so hard to pick just one favorite so we just won’t go there). This bridge feels like the love child of out of the woods’ bridge and blank space.

Lover - another one of my favorites. This song is just so completely stunning. The only way to describe this song is romantic and timeless. Stunning visuals on the music video. We’ve spent years loving Taylor’s love songs but this song feels like the first song about being truly in love and I think it’s one of the best songs she’s ever written.

The Man - the production on this is fantastic. I would love to see a music video for this, I think the visuals could make such a statement. Love the Leo reference. As a woman who has experience with being treated differently than men in my career, this is 100% being added to my girl power playlist. It almost reminds me of the song in A Star is Born - Why Did You Do That? Which is iconic.

The Archer - this woman’s lyricism is on a different level than anyone else out there. The way she captures anxiety and imposter syndrome so perfectly combined with the instrumental build up makes this song such an emotional trip.

I Think He Knows - love this one! I want to do a flash mob to this song in the middle of Central Park. Can I make cheesy choreography to this and perform it in public and call it a flash mob? No? Ok I still love everything about this song. Fave line - he’s so obsessed with me and Boyyy I understanddddd 😉

Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince - this has rep vibes with a dash of I Knew You Were Trouble spice? I feel like such a moody queen breaking it down while singing “miss amer-i-can-a and the heart-break prince (OKAY)”. Love how different this sounds than the first set of songs.

Paper Rings - ok Taylor???? Take my money, my soul and dignity with this song. This one is soooooooo fun! I love the instruments (especially the drums) in this one. Stay Stay Stay’s older cooler pop punk sister is alive and well in this song.

Cornelia Street - wow, I feel like I am sitting in the back of the car with Taylor and experiencing the flash forwards of this relationship when I listen to this one. My heart aches when I listen to this song. The chorus makes me want to emotionally sway and scream the lyrics with my bestie while wine drunk. Love the reference to love being her religion (hi don’t blame me)

Death By A Thousand Cuts - brb spending the rest of my life trying to learn how to play this on guitar. Another one of my favorites, the lyricism is outstanding, production is beautiful. Fave lyric in this one - I ask the traffic lights if it’ll be alright, they say I.. don’t... know. Also love the “my”s echoing in the background of the bridge. Love love love this one.

London Boy - this one gives me big end game / king of my heart vibes for some reason. I just took a trip to London a few weeks ago and I feel like I can sing this song with so much more passion now that I know the places she’s referencing 😂 it’s a cute bop. Taylor if you ever wanna day drink in the afternoon in Soho, let me know!

Soon You’ll Get Better - this is going to be one of the Taylor songs that I can’t listen to often. The lyrics hit too close to home, I can only imagine how hard this was to write and record. Taylor, this song is so beautiful. Sending all my love to you and your family.

False God - ok, so this song is SEXY sexy. That sax. The accent voice (idk what this is called?). Dress is found rolled up in a ball in the back of Taylor’s closet. Phew, this song is such a mood.

You Need To Calm Down - a bop since it first came out. Music video is legendary. Big Swift Evergy in this song. I blame this song for me telling everyone who exists that they need to calm down.

Afterglow - I think this song really ties into the theme that Taylor is going for on Lover. This song is so important, there are moments like this in relationships and the lyrics really hit home. Love isn’t always the “Lover” and “I Think He Knows” moments. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a song from any other artist that’s captured this aspect of relationships so perfectly. Fave line - why’d I have to break what I love so much?

Me! - again another bop since day one. Love how it fits in with the rest of the album. Self love is so important everyone!!!! You have to love yourself and see your worth in a relationship! Catch me trying to hit the high heee heeee heeeeee notes for the rest of my life.

It’s Nice To Have A Friend - probably the most interesting song on the whole album. The way she maintains the same emotion while singing the entire song is very non-Taylor esque if that makes sense? I feel like we’re so used to hearing her pour emotion into her delivery. I would love to hear more on the background and songwriting process for this one. I can’t stop listening to this track.

Daylight - wow what a breath of fresh air. This feels so airy and I can feel the weight being lifted off of Taylor shoulders. Perfect song to walk to watch the sunrise in the morning with good headphones. Feels like a new beginning but it’s the closing track which is so cool. I love the way she sings “it’s brighter now”. Love the reference back to Red. Perfect closing track.

@taylorswift this record is an absolute masterpiece and I am SO proud to be your fan. This is some of your best work and you should be extremely proud of yourself - this is YOURS. No one can take that away from you. You deserve all the success in the world, can’t wait to watch how the rest of this era unfolds. I’ll be by your side until the very end 💘

Thanks for coming to my Taylor Talk. @taylornation

#lover #lover review #taylurking #taylornation

4 notes · View notes

withinthescripts · 7 years ago

Text

Season 2, Cassette 10: The Karikari Contemporary Gallery (1986)

[tape recorder turns on]

Welcome to the Karikari Contemporary Gallery. I am Hester Wells, curator and director. We are proud to present the life and works of one of Aotearoa’s most notable artists and founder of this gallery, Roimata Mangakāhia. This exhibit focuses on the evolution of Mangakāhia’s works over the course of her long career, from her early landscapes and portraits, skilful but straightforward, to her more surreal and fantastical focus on smaller objects later in her career. While Mangakāhia did not get the recognition she deserved from art critics or the public, at least internationally speaking, she was well regarded by her peers and was part of a sprawling collection of artists. In particular, she formed a close relationship with Claudia Atieno, in a friendship that could perhaps be compared to that of Virginia Woolf and Katherine Mansfield.

This exhibit will address the inspiration the two artists took from each other’s works. Atieno was Mangakāhia’s passion. Her every work or gesture was received by Mangakāhia as either a favor or a threat. Perhaps they were.

Unlike Atieno, whose works dealt in wide statements, sweeping political views made clear in her re-imagining of famous works destroyed in the Great Reckoning, Mangakāhia reveled in the intimate depths of what makes us human. Her surreal twisting limbs and contorted faces showed the complexity of emotions within the body itself. Even her uninhabited landscapes enveloped the viewer, as if to place them into her world, forcing them to come to terms with the reality she was experiencing.

This exhibit is a survey of perhaps my favorite artist, a woman whose work should be celebrated more widely than it has been so far. Many art lovers, even those who live here in Aotearoa, never knew of Mangakāhia s work. We hope this exhibit will excite and enlighten you. To be frank, I’m almost jealous of those of you who will be experiencing Mangakāhia’s work for the first time.

Please begin your audio tour on the left as you enter and work clockwise around the room.

[bell chimes]

One. Early sketches, 1953 to 1958.

I’ve placed three early sketches by Roimata Mangakāhia in what I believe to be chronological order. The first on the far left is a charcoal drawing of a row boat at he end of a long dock. The boat is not moored to anything. It is near the dock, but disconnected from it. Mangakāhia faded the lines of the water gradually out into nothing, into the wide space of the page, and the ocean feels vast, far too vast for such a small vessel.

Inside the boat, she has drawn what looks to be a bag or satchel. I want you to look at the bag. Think about what she might have packed in this bag. Did she pack the bag herself, or was it someone else? Are they escaping with their remaining items?

I’m only guessing, but I believe Mangakāhia would have been about sixteen when she sketched this. She was born right at the end of the Great Reckoning, accords were being struck and weapons laid down. Mangakāhia was not yet born while refugees were desperately fleeing violence in boats too small for the journey ahead, but she may have heard stories about them. She may have taken inspiration from the decades before her birth. Or perhaps this is just a row boat, drawn by a Maori girl growing up in a coastal town.

The second charcoal drawing is of a damsel fly. These insects are common in Mangakāhia’s sketches, but I’ve never seen her include one in a fully realized painting. The damsel fly was also common in Claudia Atieno’s works, and I’m fairly positive the two things are connected. There is beauty in one artist in the Pacific and one in East Africa exploring the same motif.

Did you make that connection as well?

The third sketch is a pencil drawing of a young woman. I don’t know who she is, someone Mangakāhia knew as a teenager I suppose. Or someone she saw from afar. Do her dark eyes look familiar? Her smile, the way it turns up more on one side? The lines on her brow that suggest she may not want her likeness drawn, but is still happy to humor her friend, a young artist who hopes to immortalize a beautiful subject? Mangakāhia wants you to be attracted to this woman. She has drawn her in a way that suggests she was attracted to her.

I wonder what became of their relationship. I wonder if it’s important.

[bell chimes]

Two. “Providence”, 1964.

This painting is of the North American port city of Providence in the former United States. It seems that Mangakāhia must have visited it at some point in her life. She had traveled away from her home when she was in her twenties. At this point in history, after a couple of decades of recovery and restructure, art was flourishing in a way that had not been seen since the late 19th century. Mangakāhia wanted to study this new generation of artists, to write about them and to learn from them. This artistic period is known as the Modern Society Era.

This painting is fascinating, because it suggests Mangakāhia traveled by ship between North America and London, but there is no record of her ever having been aboard a cargo ship. All there is to suggest her voyage is one painting of a row of blue dock cranes and empty shipping containers. There’s not a single person or even boat visible here. It’s as if the city had been abandoned.

My best guess puts this painting in the early 1960’s, but I cannot be sure. I have spent some time in North America, but I have never been to Providence. I have been within a few hundred miles of it, I suppose. I have lived for a while within a few hundred miles of this shipyard.

My work in the former United States was neither safe nor enjoyable, but I’m happy I did it. I’m happier to be home.

[bell chimes]

Three. “Cornwall Cliffs”, 1972.

By the early 1970’s, Mangakāhia had found a home in Plymouth, in the former United Kingdom. While living there, she befriended her artistic hero Claudia Atieno, and began spending much of her time in Atieno’s home in Cornwall.

Atieno’s house sat on an island off the coast with cliffs that overlooked the juncture of the English Channel and the Celtic Sea. It was along those cliffs that Atieno lost her life. When Atieno went missing in 1972, many hoped she was simply keeping herself locked away while she worked on new paintings. But after several years, when most had given up hope, her body was finally found washed ashore not far from her home.

Mangakāhia made several paintings of the cliffs of Atieno’s island, a place where she loved to dive. Some scholars have written that both she and Atieno would spend warm summer afternoons diving together from cliffs behind the house into the rocky water below. I have heard accounts of this time in Mangakāhia’s life from some guided recordings she made for several museums. She frequently mentions diving at high tide. It seems unlikely that Atieno did, though.

I found documents that suggested Mangakāhia had recorded audio guides for 11 different museums, 9 of which are still running. I wrote to those 9 museums requesting copies of the cassettes. I received only 5 back, and according to 2 of those museums, they never distributed the recordings because they were not up to museum standards. I listened to the tapes. I would agree with that assessment. Particularly after Atieno’s body was discovered, Mangakāhia let her opinions and emotions overwhelm her enviable depth of knowledge.

This painting, “Cornwall Cliffs”, is reminiscent of the tragic comic scope of Pieter Bruegel’s “Landscape with the Fall of Icarus”. You can see in the lower right a crevice in the rocks. In that crevice, a whitecap. Is that upturned splash of water a wave on a stone? Or is it the aftermath of a diver completing her plunge?

In Bruegel’s wry satire, we see the farmers and workers carrying on about their day, despite the death of the fabled Greek hero. There are no humans visible in “Cornwall Cliffs”, but there are trees seen along the left-hand side and sheep along the shores in the distance. They too carry on about their days despite knowing nothing about this painting, diving, or Greek mythology.

Are you carrying on about your day? What are you doing later after you leave the gallery? Are you answering these questions aloud? Don’t do that.

[bell chimes]

Four. “Fingers Together”, 1973.

Following Atieno’s death in 1972, Mangakāhia’s paintings began to evolve from realist to surrealist. In “Fingers Together”, we see tendrils of bright colors seemingly bleeding down from the top of the canvas and fading into twisted points.

Notice the density of oils near the top, in thick repetitive strokes. There are nine different twisting lines here, so if we are to assume by the title that this is to represent fingers in two hands, there is one missing.

Where is the missing finger?

[bell chimes]

Five. “The Bodies”, 1972.

Here are two humanoid forms, one holding the other. On first glance, the erect figure in the background appears to be cradling the limp figure in the fore as if carrying a small child. But the more I look at this, the more I think the background figure is attempting to hide the other, as if sneaking a large flask into an inner coat pocket.

Look at their faces. Or at least the indentations that replicate human faces on each figure. The one being held has almost no countenance. Perhaps a shadow for eyes and a grayish blob to the left that could be a distorted mouth caught midway into a cry or a song.

The standing figure clearly has two wide eyes. See there, the white in the cacophonous cloud of red and brown. But her neck is askew as if she’s being caught up by whatever or whomever she is holding.

[bell chimes]

Six. “Self-portrait”, 1970.

Mangakāhia painted herself in the guest room of Atieno’s home in Cornwall. You can see her wardrobe and a coat rack over her shoulder, and beyond that a window, looking out over the cliffs where she often dove. I’m particularly struck by the slight mark atop the cliff. It is not a tree.

Look at the mark atop the cliff. It’s not a tree, is it? Is it a person? It is.

I think it is. I think it is Atieno. Based on the recordings I heard, it does not seem likely that Atieno ever liked diving, so it seems strange that she would be on the clifftop overlooking the sea.

Look at Mangakāhia’s face in this painting. Study her attitude, her expression. Study it with whatever consideration you can muster. Is that a smile, or a grimace, or a smirk? Does she know something you do not know? I think I know, but I’m wondering if you do.

Her eyes are not smiling, are they? Are you replicating her facial expression on your own face as you study the image? What is the shape of your body? How is your back? Are you breathing? You should remember to breathe.

[bell chimes] [tape recorders turns off] [ad for the Patreon, I transcribed it at the bottom of the transcript] [tape recorder turns on] [bell chimes]

Seven. “Claudia Atieno with Cat”, 1974.

This was painted two years after Atieno’s death, so I’m not sure if Mangakāhia started it earlier and did not finish until 1974, or if she painted it from memory. She began with the realistic portrait of Atieno’s head, hair, and face, her long braids and narrow lips. But as our eyes move down the canvas, we see a rather shapeless body wearing an almost iridescent blouse. The cat, per the title, looks more like a pile of candles melting down Atieno’s spiraling legs.

This painting is based on Atieno’s “Self-portrait with Cat”, which was unfinished at the time of her death. That painting was on display in the Ulster Museum in Belfast more than 10 years ago. A letter from Mary Breathnach at the museum suggests the painting was donated to them by the sculptor Pavel Zubov.

I met Mangakāhia once, in 1978. I was a student and I had the chance to interview her for a paper I was writing. I remember seeing this painting, “Claudia Atieno with Cat”, and I wanted to know about her relationship to the famous painter. Mangakāhia clearly did not want to talk about Atieno. I was made to understand that very quickly. I regretted asking her the moment I finished my question, but Mangakāhia sighed and said, “She denied ever painting that picture, so I just painted it myself. If she didn’t want to put it into existence, then I would put it into existence.” Mangakāhia added after a long pause: “She hated cats, and I hated her for it.”

Look at the semblance of a cat on the semblance of a lap in this painting, and tell yourself what it means to love something.

[bell chimes]

Eight. “Horopito Number 2”.

In 1980, Mangakāhia returned to Aotearoa from Plymouth. I was living in the former United States at the time. I had paused my career in art history to take a research and technical writing job in a secluded area along the Chesapeake Bay. I did not even know she had returned to her home.

It was in 1982 that I learned she was painting again, and knowing this made me want to resume my own studies. It took some effort, but after a couple of years, I found my way out of my contracted job. I had no money, but I met a cargo pilot in Philadelphia who was able to fly me home. It took a few stops over a few months, sneaking me into normally scheduled routes, but I made it back.

Mangakāhia had lived in a cottage near the sea not far from my own home. I was able to convince a neighbor to let me in, after I told her I was planning to reopen the Karikari Gallery. Every painting in her home, dozens of them, were of Horopito shrubs. Before I had left for America I had seen some of these in galleries, I even bought one.

Look hard at the leaves in “Horopito Number 2”. Just a simple bush growing at an angle from the side of a hill. Nothing else except a flinty sky and a splash of green grass clotted with mud. Two of the leaves, just left of the center, have perfect circles chewed from them by beetles, who seem to worship only hunger and geometry.

The Horopito is neither stunning nor unique. It is simple and ubiquitous, and here Mangakāhia has found true beauty in the mundane. Like Atieno’s 1968 “Stapler”, Mangakāhia captures near photographic realism in acrylics. And at first glance, the painting is dull and innocuous. But it is in the action of painting and the moment of viewing that the artist and the patron perfectly communicate.

Follow green lines as they thicken into violet, and then pink, then orange, then mauve. Feel your head tilt to the angle of the hill. Do you see any people in this painting? Do you feel any people in this painting?

What senses are you ignoring? Are you letting your eyes control you?

[bell chimes]

Nine. “Horopito Number 4”.

This is from my personal collection. It usually hangs across from my sofa. I will return it to my wall at the end of this month, when this exhibit closes.

We will drink tea together in my living room, she and I. We will look at the painting with its blues and teals and simple expendable plant life, as you look at it now.

Examine the missing patch of branches in the lower right, likely eaten away by an animal, or possibly never grown. Or perhaps just damaged in a flood. There are lots of reasons for visual imperfections.

What do you think happened to those branches? Ask yourself that. Just as I have many times. Just as my wife asked the first day we looked at this painting together. But never answer it, it is unimportant.

When this painting returns to my home, I will mostly not look at it. I will know it is there, every day and always, unlike an actual Horopito.

Go home. Have some tea if you have tea. Have it with someone you love, if you have someone you love. Live your life knowing it is there and does not need your eyes. It does not need your critique. It only needs to know it was seen by you.

A year from now, ten years from now, think about “Horopito Number 4” and try to remember its colors, blues and teals. A missing set of branches in the lower right.

Do you see? Touch your hand to your own hip and know that it is still there. Ball joints and ligaments and sinew and skin. How do you walk or dance, or stand, or sit? Ask yourself that. And breathe.

While I was in North America, I received a letter from a former professor, letting me know that Mangakāhia had passed away in her garden. She had become reclusive in her later years, and her body was not found until nature had reclaimed most of it. I viewed this letter as a call to escape, or rather, as confirmation that my plans to escape were correct. There is more talent than celebrity in the world, and many complex artists are left out of our narratives.

Her resentment of Atieno made Mangakāhia a better artist, but I think it prevented her from showing the charisma required for international recognition. I cannot make the world pay attention to her works, but maybe I can bring her the respect of her home land. Her paintings are still hers, but I will keep them safe in this gallery. They would not last in her house, as it has lately fallen into disrepair. My last visit there was a year ago. I found only a cat. I tried to feed it, but it drew blood and ran away.

[tape recorder turns off]

“Within the Wires” is written by Jeffrey Cranor and Janina Matthewson and performed by Janina Matthewson, with original music by Mary Epworth. Find more of Mary’s music at maryepworth.com.

Don’t forget to check out our Patreon benefits, including that exclusive “Within the Wires” series only for supporters, as well as a bunch of other cool stuff. Go to patreon.com/withinthewires.

OK, our time is done. It’s you time now. Time to stop by the museum gift shop, grab yourself a souvenir book of paintings about [how capitalism is ruining visual art]. Pick up a poster featuring [you as a baby], and buy a commemorative vase made out of [Christmas cards you feel bad about throwing away].

Hey there, “Within the Wires” lovers. Season 3 isn’t coming til autumn 2018, but we have so many cool things to share with you between now and then. Including an exclusive Patreon-only “Within the Wires” series called “Black Box”, with new episodes quarterly beginning in March. Yup, we started a [bleep]ing Patreon page, and with as little as a dollar a month you could get bi-monthly video chats with me and Janina, director’s notes about each new episode, behind the scenes posts, that “Black Box” series I mentioned, and ad-free downloads of every single episode.

Wait, maybe you like the ads? Really? OK, well I’ll post just the ads for supporters as well. I’ll even record some new ones just for you, future Patreon member and ad lover, every couple of months about products that may not even exist. Maybe they will exist if the ad is good enough.

So listen, Mary, Janina and I spend a lot of time making this show because we love doing it. And we do wanna keep doing this for ourselves and for you and for the society, but that will take your support, so please help out any way you can. Benefits start as low as a dollar, just go to patreon.com/withinthewires. Thank you again for liking us. Thank you in advance for supporting our Patreon.

And don’t forget to breathe.

#within the wires #within the wires transcripts #season 2 #season 2 cassette 10 #karikari contemporary gallery (1986)

42 notes · View notes

thisisheffner · 5 years ago

Text

Pet Shop Boys: 'The acoustic guitar should be banned' | Music | The Guardian

The new Pet Shop Boys album is, they say, the third in a trilogy. Hotspot follows 2013’s Electric and 2016’s Super, all collaborations with producer Stuart Price, all examples of the duo’s return to “electronic purism” after a succession of albums where, as Neil Tennant puts it, they variously “pretended to be a rock band” (Release), “made a zany one with everything and the kitchen sink on it” (Yes) and “went to LA and made an album about being old” (Elysium).

“That was your big idea, being old,” says Tennant, nodding in the direction of his fellow Pet Shop Boy Chris Lowe, who is sitting alongside him on the sofa in a record company office in the City of London. “He explained that to our manager and she was absolutely aghast. She looked completely horrified.”

It is worth noting that in recent years the Pet Shop Boys have also written scores for Eisenstein’s 1925 silent film Battleship Potemkin and a ballet based on a Hans Christian Andersen fairytale (2011’s The Most Incredible Thing), as well as premiering A Man From the Future – a kind of pop oratorio based on the life of Alan Turing – at the Proms. They also provided the music for a theatrical adaptation of Stephen Frears’ film My Beautiful Laundrette and a one-woman Edinburgh festival show by actor Frances Barber, based on the character of Billie Trix, the washed-up pop star she played in the Pet Shop Boys’ 2001 musical Closer To Heaven. Its revival was also noticeably more successful than the critically savaged original production. “It was a very outrageous piece for 2001, loads of drugs in it, somebody dies,” notes Tennant. “Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s company produced it and I remember him saying: ‘Well, sorry guys, I guess it was a bit too much for everybody.’”

Set against this backdrop, the Electric/Super/Hotspot trilogy does seem like a return to what you might call Pet Shop Boys basics. They began their career in 1984, working with hi-NRG producer Bobby Orlando, transforming the predominant sound of the era’s gay clubs into a very British and brainy brand of pop music, shot through with a streak of social comment so subtly done that people frequently missed the point entirely. Thirty years of the duo patiently explaining that Opportunities (Let’s Make Lots of Money) was a satire of 80s excess doesn’t seem to have dimmed TV documentary directors’ enthusiasm for playing it in the background during footage of yuppies shouting into enormous mobile phones or spraying champagne; 1987’s Shopping was a withering portrait of London consumerism between the Big Bang and Black Monday, so shrewdly drawn you could imagine a City boy of the era banging the wheel of his Ferrari and bellowing along, oblivious to its real intent.

A lot has changed since 1984, though. For one thing, the Pet Shop Boys have sold 100m records. But while the vast majority of their 80s contemporaries have long been consigned to the nostalgia circuit or vanished entirely – “down the dumper,” as Tennant memorably put it while working as a journalist on Smash Hits – the Pet Shop Boys have become a kind of curious national institution. Still close enough to the heart of pop that younger stars flock to work with them – Hotspot features Olly Alexander of Years & Years, who, Tennant dryly notes, “is of a different generation to us, sings in a different style, more R&B, whereas Chris always says I sing like Julie Andrews” – and yet sufficiently highbrow that all the ballets and oratorios and scores for silent films feel like a natural fit rather than an affectation.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest

The duo long ago reneged on their refusal to play gigs, although, as Tennant points out, his celebrated 80s line about how he “liked proving that we can’t cut it live” was meant as a joke, on account of their inability to make their grandiose plans for shows work financially – their first US tour was both a vast success and lost half a million pounds. Now, however, they are a reliably stadium-filling, festival-headlining act – a 25-date greatest hits tour of European arenas begins in May. It’s a state of affairs they seem to enjoy, but it’s not without its hiccups. “I announced I was going to retire,” sighs Tennant, “when we played a half-empty venue in Grimsby on my birthday in 2002.”

And yet here they are, in 2020, roughly where they were in 1984, occasional residents of Berlin (they own a flat in the city, its kitchen converted into a recording studio, complete with “a vocoder which we never use because I don’t know how to plug it in,” says Lowe), making music at least partly inspired by the city’s nightlife. They are regular visitors to its notoriously hedonistic techno mecca Berghain, although their approach to the club seems impressively genteel, as befits men in their 60s. “We go on Sunday lunchtimes,” smiles Tennant, “around 12 o’clock. We treat it as pre-lunch drinks – we go up to the Panorama Bar and have a glass of prosecco. You get the people who’ve been there all night, they’re absolutely twatted, but then there’s a fresh crowd coming in as well, and it’s a very interesting atmosphere. And it’s great to walk in from daylight on to the main dancefloor, which is completely dark, there’s just a kick drum playing four-to-the-floor, and it’s really, really exciting in an alienating way.”

If the duo’s penchant for satire seems less present on Hotspot, says Tennant, that’s because it was “siphoned off” on the 2019 EP Agenda, home to Give Stupidity a Chance and What Are We Going to Do About the Rich?, by some distance the angriest songs the Pet Shop Boys have ever recorded. “What was the reaction to them? Probably generally negative,” laughs Tennant. “I mean, if you’re doing something to wind people up and they get wound up, I suppose your job’s been done.”

In fact, a careworn song about the refugee crisis aside, the tone of Hotspot is often rather romantic. “Berlin’s quite a romantic place,” says Tennant. “People in Britain tend to think of Berlin, even now, as the wall and Bowie making ‘Heroes’. But it’s got 80 lakes in it, you can be in the countryside in 20 minutes, it’s such a beautiful place in the summer, you have pubs on the river. So that’s why I think it sounds warm and romantic.”

The duo are famously entertaining interviewees, Tennant’s background as a music journalist clear both in his theorising about “the discipline of the pop single” and an awareness of how things look in print. When talk turns to the current crop of earnest post-Ed Sheeran troubadours, he first, perhaps rashly, suggests: “I think the acoustic guitar should be banned, actually.” Then offers a headline for a feature based around that quote: “Pet Shop Boys Blast Lame Rock Rivals”.

Lowe, meanwhile, contrary to his public image – stony-faced and silent beneath an unending selection of preposterous hats – is drily funny about everything from his partner’s singing voice (“Neil is not from the gospel tradition, despite having been an altar boy”), to the Americanisation of British culture: “I can’t believe schools have started having prom dances. As if school isn’t bad enough anyway without a prom at the end of it. They never end well in films, do they? We’ve all seen Carrie.”

But nevertheless, an old-fashioned element of mystery and distance remains intact: what they do when they are not being the Pet Shop Boys remains largely unknown, their private lives off limits throughout their career. They don’t do social media, or rather they did, then reconsidered when they realised that it involved “interaction”, a word Tennant says with comic horror. “We were early adopters of Twitter,” says Lowe, “and early leavers. The only thing I liked about it was blocking people. I loved to block.”

“Chris,” smiles Tennant, “is the sort of person who, if he’d been a pop star in the 1970s, would have posted a turd to someone he didn’t like.”

They do feel a little out of place in the current pop climate’s obsession with authenticity and ordinariness (“authenticity is a style,” notes Tennant, “and it’s always the same style”), its lyrical penchant for what they waspishly term “narcissistic misery”.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest

“We’re always looking for euphoria and excitement in music,” he says, “that sort of feeling we got the first time we heard Bobby O’s records, or Helter Skelter by the Beatles, or even She Loves You, going right back to being a child. That euphoric thing came back in with the rave scene in the 80s, but it isn’t really at the core of pop music now. Its context is social media; social media has actually created and defined the form of popular music and I think, unfortunately, that takes it down the narcissistic misery route. It doesn’t have the importance it once had, and that’s been the case for quite a while. It’s become a facet of social media. You know, everything we do, there’s people working out how to edit it down to 10 seconds, literally everything. I wonder what would happen now if you released Bohemian Rhapsody.”

Then again, says Tennant, they never did fit in. “When we started off we really did think we were going to create our own world that might reference other things, like a novelist writing a series of novels set in a particular era or something like that, where we were characters. And when we did collaborations, we judged them very carefully. So our first collaboration was with Dusty Springfield [on 1987’s What Have I Done To Deserve This?]. Our label didn’t want us to work with her, they wanted us to work with Tina Turner or someone like that. I remember the director of EMI going: ‘I can get you Streisand!’ But” – he thumps the coffee table before him for emphasis – “we wanted Dusty. Then we worked with Liza Minnelli and that was sort of politely greeted with horror, but everyone went along with it and it worked, because it’s our world.”

Of Top of the Pops, he says: “We were never the kind of performers who were going to enter into it wholeheartedly. Chris established early on that we weren’t allowed to look thrilled to be there. Whenever the camera came over to us, he’d say: ‘Don’t look triumphant!’ But we used to quite enjoy Top of the Pops, you know, being glared at by some singer because you’d said something nasty about them in the press.” He laughs. “I always liked the way that British pop stars always hated each other. When I worked on Smash Hits, I remember the editor saying: ‘We should do a piece on Paul Weller, because he’ll slag everyone off.’ The feuds! Duran Duran and Spandau, Boy George and Pete Burns arguing about who had those sort of gay dreadlocks first.”

“I don’t think bands do that now,” nods Lowe. “When we tour, we’ve got this band, young musicians, and it’s so refreshing because they’re so nice. They feel part of a musical community, they all know each other, they play on each other’s records, they’re all linked in. It wasn’t like that when we were around.”

But, of course, they are still around. Their albums – if not their singles – are inevitably Top 10 hits and sprinkled with songs that rank alongside their best. The Billie Trix cabaret show, Musik, is about to transfer to London, and there are excited rumours abounding that they are playing Glastonbury this year – “which we can’t talk about, which is annoying” – after their guest spot on the Killers’ headline set in 2019.

“Making music, there is still a magic about going into a studio and finding that sort of euphoria and excitement of something new,” says Tennant. “There’s a magic to realising there’s nothing more you can add to something, it’s finished, and then judging its value or whatever. It’s a supremely enjoyable and satisfying career, and, you know, you can’t stop doing it. I mean, if you run out of ideas, that’s when you stop.”

“I’m quite looking forward to that actually,” nods Lowe. “Running out of ideas.” He grins. “Because that’s when you go and work with Brian Eno.”

Hotspot is out today

This content was originally published here.

0 notes

possiblyimbiassed · 7 years ago

Text

Everything in S4 has happened before - did you make a list?

The wheel turns and there’s really nothing new under the sun… It struck me that just about everything we see in Series 4 of BBC Sherlock, seems to have happened before, in one form or another. Which I believe is strong evidence for EMP theory (or at least something similar). I’m sure several people have already commented on this, but I’ll try to write down a whole list of what I’ve found this far – feel free to add to it!

Events in The Six Thatchers

1. Sherlock (in a Secret Service meeting about how to cover up him shooting Magnussen): “I am taking it seriously; what makes you think I’m not taking it seriously?”

Earlier event: In TEH, the Gothic fan in Anderson’s Holmes fan club, theorizing that Sherlock and Moriarty are attracted to each other: “I do take it seriously. I don’t think we should wear hats.”

2. Sherlock is brought back to London to figure out how Moriarty can be transmitting his “Miss me?” message on every screen in the country. Sherlock’s plan is to sit and wait for Jim’s “spider web” to quiver, rather than trying to find Moriarty himself.

Earlier event: In TEH Sherlock was brought back to London to foil a terrorist attack on the city. At first, he was just waiting for one of his markers (“rats”) to make a move.

3. In one case, Sherlock is in 221B, holding a plastic bag with ice and a human thumb in it.

Earlier event: In ASiB Mrs Hudson discovers a plastic bag in the fridge of 221B, containing human thumbs.

4. In “The Circus Torso” Sherlock mentions tattoos on dead bodies.

Earlier event: In TBB (where a Chinese circus is involved) there are bodies with Black Lotus tattoos on their heels.

5. In “The Duplicate Man” we get the following quote: “How could Dennis Parkinson be at two places at the same time? And murdered in one of them?” Before John manages to say anything, Sherlock tells him: “It’s never twins, John.”

Earlier event: In TAB (Victorian times inside Sherlock’s mind) we have Watson saying about Emilia Ricoletti: “But she can’t have been in two places at the same time, can she?” Watson asks why it couldn’t have been twins, and Holmes answers “Because it’s never twins.”

6. And also (reality check!) there’s John hammering down all their cases into his blog as usual, with titles and all. Quite some time must indeed be passing when John is frequently transmitting blog posts, because in between them he even becomes a father! Lestrade refers twice to John going to publish his blog about the Six Thatcher case, thereby making him, Greg, look incompetent and undeserving of the credits.

Except there are two great big flaws in this: a) John is only seen writing on a picture file (.jpg), not a real blog prompt and b) There are no new blog entries on the official www.johnwatsonblog.co.uk since John’s wedding in TSoT. Not one. The last one from that time is written by Sherlock himself, complaining about John’s and ‘Mary’s’ “sex holiday”. John’s last blog post was from the Mayfly Man case at the time of his stag night, shortly before the wedding.

7. Charlie Welsborough’s car blows up with his dead body inside.

Earlier event: In TGG a hostage was covered in explosives and placed in a car, waiting for it to blow up.

8. Sherlock is ‘deducing’ a client’s case, telling him that his wife is a secret spy who will drug the US president with an injection in the neck.

Earlier event: In TEH John was drugged with an injection in his neck.

9. Sherlock is solving a case about a client who has a heart failure causing him amnesia.

Earlier event: In HLV Sherlock’s heart stops temporarily. Judging by TLD, something weird has happened with Sherlock’s memory in S4.

10. Six busts of Margaret Thatcher are being smashed to pieces, which is the focus case of this episode.

Earlier events: The whole case is described long before on John’s blog with the same title, with smashed Thatcher figures and with basically very similar events. Maggie Thatcher was also a password to secret info in THoB.

11. Craig the Hacker talks about “Ostalgia” and “Cold War memorabilia”; how some people in Germany long for the old communist era.

Earlier event: In TEH, when Sherlock was tortured in Serbia, we saw uniforms that looked a lot more like Red Army uniforms from the past, than modern Serbian military uniforms:

12. ‘Mary’ calls Sherlock a ‘Dragon Slayer’ when he meets her in his secret bolt hole.

Earlier events: In TRF Moriarty talked on a video screen about Sherlock as a knight slaying dragons. In HLV Mycroft claimed that Sherlock sees himself as a Dragon Slayer.

13. ‘Mary’ is revealed as one of four freelancing assassins in A.G.R.A. who had been hired for an operation in Tbilisi, Georgia.

Earlier event: In TRF, according to Mycroft, Moriarty had assigned “four top international assassins” relocated to within “spitting distance” of 221B.

14. ‘Mary’ uses a poisoned letter to drug Sherlock; he gets affected when he inhales the vapor from the paper. Then he sees a childhood memory when he was playing pirates with his dog.

Earlier event: In THoB the murderer uses an aerosol perceived as fog to drug his victims with a substance that works fear-inducing and produce hallucinations when they inhale it:

15. Sherlock goes on an international tour to chase after ‘Mary’.

Earlier event: In MHR Sherlock goes on an international tour to several countries to chase after Moriarty’s remaining criminal network, after faking his own death in TRF.

16. ’Mary’ dies from a bullet wound in the abdomen, with John at her side.

Earlier event: In HLV Sherlock was very close to dying from a bullet wound in the abdomen, with John at his side.

17. By smashing a Thatcher bust Sherlock gets hold of a memory stick with the acronym A.G.R.A. on it, which contains secret information.

Earlier events: in TGG Sherlock finds the lost memory stick with the top secret Bruce Partington Plans. In John’s blog case ‘The Six Thatchers’, a knife with Beppo’s initials on it was found inside one of the Thatcher figures.

18. There’s a scene with a swimming pool where Sherlock and the assassin Ajay are fighting over a memory stick.

Earlier event: in TGG there was a scene with the swimming pool (where Carl Powers had been murdered) and Sherlock, Moriarty and John were fighting over a memory stick.

19. There are several scenes from the London Aquarium where sharks swim around in bluish water.

Earlier event: In HLV Sherlock described Charles Augustus Magnussen as a ‘shark’ with a ‘dead eyes stare’, and he was referencing to the London Aquarium.

20. There are shattering glass transitions between scenes in TST.

Earlier events: John described in his blog post The Six Thatchers how he heard glass shatter when Beppo broke in. Glass shattering (a mirror) was also used to reveal a ghost trick in Sherlock’s Mind Palace in TAB:

21. John refuses to see Sherlock for quite a while, after blaming him for ‘Mary’s’ death, which hurts Sherlock badly.

Earlier event: In TEH John refused to see Sherlock for some time in TEH, after Sherlock came back and told John thad he had faked his suicide. Sherlock seemed very sad about this.

Events in The Lying Detective

22. John visits a therapist for his problems with grief and depression. (And a depressed Sherlock suddenly visits John’s old therapist Ella in TST for his problems with John).

Earlier events: Already in ASiP John went to his therapist Ella for depression, and then he visited her again for his problems with grief over Sherlock in TRF.

23. Sherlock is waving a gun quite carelessly, shoots the wall in 221B and seems to be in a lot of distress.

Earlier events: In TGG Sherlock shot the wall in 221B and later carelessly scratched his head with a gun in the pool scene, where John had just shown willing to sacrifice his life for Sherlock:

24. In 221B Sherlock manages to catch the cup of tea that Mrs Hudson has made for him but drops from shock, before it hits the floor.

Earlier event: In TBB Sherlock managed to catch the teapot that Soo Lin Yao was tending to in the museum but dropped from shock when Sherlock entered, before it hit the floor.

25. Sherlock is walking the streets of London at night together with Faith, who likes him and thinks he’s “nicer”. By walking with her, he hopes to prevent her from committing suicide, since Sherlock has deduced that she is alone and is carrying a gun in her handbag. Faith is also walking with a cane, which reminds Sherlock of John.

Earlier event: In ASiP Sherlock was running through the streets (and rooftops) of London at night together with John, who seemed to like him and admire him. By running together, trying to solve an exciting crime case, John’s psychosomatic limp was cured and he no longer needed his cane after that. (And John, who was depressed, was probably also prevented from committing suicide).

26. Sherlock predicts the future repeatedly; for some odd reason he knows two weeks in advance that John will get a new therapist and that John will want Molly to examine Sherlock, and he knows exactly where and when it all will happen, in spite of being kidnapped and brought there in handcuffs in the boot of Mrs Hudson’s sports car.

Earlier event: In ASiP Sherlock tried to convince John that he could predict the fortune cookies in chinese restaurants, but John didn’t buy it.

27. John disarms, assaults and beats the sh*t out of Sherlock when Sherlock is high, frightened and starts waving a scalpel. (It’s a completely horrible, abusive scene, where John is uncontrollably violent, but the event is treated like it was Sherlock’s own fault, as if he somehow deserved the beating. Which is truly disturbing).

Earlier events: In TEH John punched Sherlock in the face three times after Sherlock revealed that he had faked his death and tried to joke about it. In HLV John disarmed and sprained a ‘junkie’ (Bill Wiggins) who was waving a knife, using far more violence than the situation craved.

28. In the hospital, Culverton Smith tries to strangle Sherlock, but John comes to his rescue and fights down Culverton.

Earlier event: In TGG The Golem tried to strangle Sherlock at the planetarium, but John came to his rescue and bravely tried to fight down the much bigger Golem.

29. John seems furiously jealous when Sherlock receives a text message from Irene Adler, who is using a provocative personalized ring tone.

Earlier event: John seemed very jealous already in ASiB when Irene Adler was texting Sherlock, using the same provocative ringtone. He even kept track of the number of messages Sherlock received.

30. Sherlock puts on the deerstalker before leaving 221B because he thinks that’s what people expect from him.

Earlier event: In TEH Sherlock put on the deerstalker before leaving 221B to talk to the press, because he thought that’s what people expected him to do:

Events in The Final Problem

31. A little girl is on board an airplane full of unconscious people, and she cannot make her Mom wake up.

Earlier event: In ASIB a little girl (the same actor as in TFP!) and her sister claimed that they weren’t allowed to see their Granddad when he was dead. And then Sherlock was confronted with Mycroft’s plan to fool the terrorists: an airplane full of dead people (among them is the girl’s Granddad).

32. Sherlock’s flat at 221B Baker Street is blown up by an exploding drone (yet surprisingly intact at the end of the episode).

Earlier event: In TGG Sherlock’s flat was damaged by an explosion in the opposite house (the apartments at the centre of the explosion seemed totally destroyed). The whole thing was set up by Moriarty.

33. By using disguises and deception, Sherlock, John and Mycroft enter Sherrinford; a highly secured governmental establishment.

Earlier event: In THoB Sherlock and John, aided by Mycroft’s key card and claiming to be supervising officers, enter Baskerville; a highly secured military establishment:

34. Euros, and later Sherlock, john and Mycroft, are kept in an isolated cell at Sherrinford.

Earlier events: in THoB James Moriarty is kept in an isolated cell and interrogated (tortured, as it seems). In HLV, he shows up in a padded cell and a straight jacket in Sherlock’s Mind Palace after Sherlock has been shot.

35. Euros uses Sherlock, John and Mycroft, without their consent, for her frightening psychosocial experiments.

Earlier event: In THoB Sherlock uses John – without his consent - for a frightening experiment on a hallucinogenic drug.

36. First experiment: Euros forces Sherlock to ask John to shoot the Governor of Serrinford, in order to save the Governor’s wife. John at first seems ready to do it, but he can’t manage it in the end. And it was all useless anyway: the Governor killed himself and his wife was shot anyway.

Earlier event: In ASiP Sherlock (unknowingly) made John shoot the serial murderer Jeff Hope, in order to save Sherlock from committing suicide with poison, in his gambling with the murderer just to prove himself clever. The whole thing could have been stopped if Sherlock just had handed Hope over to the police.

37. Second experiment: When Sherlock focuses on solving the crime of the three Garridebs and points out which of them is the guilty part, in order to save the two innocent Garridebs, Euros ends up killing them all anyway.

Earlier event: In TGG, when Sherlock wasted time, concentrating on solving the case of Connie Prince’s poisoning and get one step ahead of the murderer, rather than thinking of the victim’s prolonged suffering (he thought he’d help the old blind lady best in this way), the hostage and a bunch of other innocent people got killed by Moriarty anyway.

38. Third experiment: Euros forces Sherlock to make Molly reveal her love for him, which hurts her deeply, making Sherlock feel horrible afterwards. And it was all for nothing, since Euros later revealed that Molly’s life wasn’t in danger.

Earlier event: In ASiB Sherlock deduced out loud Molly’s attempt to dress up for a love interest and mocked her in a cruel way. When he realized that her love interest was he, Sherlock, he felt guilty and apologized:

39. Fourth experiment: Euros tries to force Sherlock to shoot either his best friend (love of his life) or his brother. Moriarty reveals that “Holmes killing Holmes” is indeed his end goal. But instead Sherlock chooses to kill himself, which makes Euros abort the experiment.

Earlier event: In TRF Moriarty tried to force Sherlock to jump from Bart’s hospital’s rooftop and kill himself. Instead, with the help of his homeless network and Molly, Sherlock faked his death. Which later had disastrous consequences on John.

40. Sherlock is shot with Euros’ tranquilizers and falls backwards into unconsciousness.

Earlier event: In HLV Sherlock was shot with ‘Mary’s bullet and fell backwards into unconsciousness.

41. John is trapped inside a well with a rising water level, but Sherlock manages to break a code from the perpetrator and rescue him. Strangely, already in TLD Sherlock is complaining to John: “I’m at the bottom of a pit and I’m still falling, and I’m never climbing out”.

Earlier event: In TEH John was trapped inside a pile of wood, which was being set on fire, but Sherlock managed to break a code from the perpetrator and rescue him.

So far, I’ve found over 40 events that have similarities in earlier episodes. I’m sure this list could go on and on. These are far too many repetitions of the same, or very similar, events for them to be mere coincidences. (perhaps someone could find out some really unique events of Series 4 and do a statistic significance test on the relative proportions).

Some people have written this off as bad or lazy screenwriting. But I think this could only be true to a certain extent, because otherwise we would have found a similar amount of repetitions in the earlier series. And to me there’s no way – absolutely no possibility – that the authors would repeat a case like The Six Thatchers, which has been thoroughly described on John’s blog several years earlier, with no intention of the fans noticing this. It seems very deliberate to me.

Conclusion – the only one that makes sense to me about Series 4 (and most probably the last half of HLV as well) - is: IT’S FAKE. The whole of Series 4 is happening inside Sherlock’s head; Sherlock is re-hashing a series of memories from his life together with John and combining them in new ways, just like a human brain does when it’s dreaming. Some of these inner experiences seem to produce emotional and/or moral growth in Sherlock. It might be EMP, simulations, delirium, drug-induced hallucinations or whatever. But Series 4 just can’t be real; it happens in Sherlock’s head.

So, basically: Sherlock needs to wake up to a Series 5 and help throw out all the demons that are keeping him and John apart. ;)

#emp theory #johnlock #series 4 is fake #recurring dreams #TJLC #mind palace

291 notes · View notes

lovebooksgroup · 7 years ago

Text

Kate Kerrigan Special Feature

‘Kate Kerrigan’s distinct storytelling links the ghosts of our pasts with modern dilemmas. Mesmerising and moving. Just beautiful.’ Cecelia Ahern

‘Nobody does lavish vintage like Kate Kerrigan.’ Daily Mail

Kate Kerrigan is one of Ireland’s most popular writers and she is a New York Times bestseller for her 20th century historical fiction. Her novels include Recipes for a Perfect Marriage which has been translated into over 20 languages, and the Ellis Island trilogy. The Dress was nominated for the popular fiction award at the Irish Book Awards in 2016 and It Was Only Ever You won the prestigious Romantic Novelists Association RONA award for Historical Novel of the Year.

Kate began her career as an editor and journalist, editing many of Britain’s most successful young women’s magazines including more! and Just Seventeen magazine under her birth name Morag Prunty, before returning to her native Ireland in the 1990’s. She writes a weekly column in the Irish Mail about her life in Killala, County Mayo – and contributes regularly to the RTE radio program Sunday Miscellany.

http://www.katekerrigan.ie

| Book Covers |

Covers can be a real bone of contention with writers and their publishing houses. Although we express ourselves in words, storytellers carry pictures in our minds too – of what our characters look like, and what kind of books we are writing – how we want them to look and what kind of an image we want to project. So when the time comes around for the covers of our books to be designed we often have strong ideas of how they should look. ‘Judging a book by its cover’ is for real with us writers – and it can leave designers quaking in their boots.

I have been incredibly lucky with my publishers over the years. Although I have had my moments. I won’t say which ones but there was a time in the past where I have gone the full drama-queen meltdown. I’m not alone. I regularly get emails from fellow authors moaning and bewailing covers they don’t like on their precious tomes. A bad cover is like starving yourself to lose 20lbs for your friends wedding just to have her put you into a horrific, flouncy bridesmaid dress that you hate!

Generally, though, I must admit, I have been happy with my covers. Never more so than with my last two books – The Dress and Only Ever You – created by the talented design team and Head Of Zeus. But it was with my latest book – That Girl – that I had my Oprah ‘Ah-Ha!’ moment. Although I’m a best seller, twenty years into my writing career, and currently writing my tenth Kate Kerrigan novel, publishers have always found me quite difficult to pigeonhole. I have lots of lovely readers and nobody is complaining but sometimes I ask myself – just who am I as a writer? What am I writing about? Exactly? Most of my books are what you could call ‘era fiction’ – written in various periods dating back not further than the 1920s. I have set my books in nearly every decade since – including some dual timeline books also set in the present day. As a result of this all of my covers have been quite different from each other. I like all of them. But when I saw the cover of That Girl – set during my mother’s coming-of-age years – Swinging Sixties London – the striking image of a young, characterful woman striking a cheeky pose, struck a chord with me. It was not simply that I liked it as a cover for the story I had written. It was more than that. It wasn’t just representing my writing, it was like it was telling me something about my writing.

I called my editor straight away and said; ‘OK Rosie – there’s something going on here. I LOVE this cover too much. Lets talk!’ I flew to London, then we gathered, as a team in the ‘comfy pink’ corner of the Head of Zeus offices and talked it through. Rosie’s passion is horses and she hit the nail on the head when she said – ‘We know Kate Kerrigan books can run the race – but have we got the livery right?’ We lined my books up on the table up and asked ourselves – why did the cover for That Girl stand out? What was it saying about me as a writer? Instead of looking at the differences between my novels (era, fashions, themes) we started talking about what they had in common. All of them are about women of character who are on a journey. My stories come out of the individual woman at the centre of them. There are usually three women featured – Honor, Lily and Joy in The Dress; Rose, Ava and Sheila in Only Ever You – and readers often come to me afterwards and confide their ‘favourites’. I am often surprised at their choice. That’s why I say that the reader is as important a part of the finished book as the writer. A book is not complete until a reader has put their ‘take’ on it – and it’s not always the same take as the author! As the author, I have my ‘favourite one’ too. She is the woman driving the story forward. Not always the most popular one – not always the one all of us can relate to – but she’s the woman we’re all talking about. It’s her heartbeat that’s drumming out the story to me.

In That Girl, it was pale-skinned, red-haired Annie – the abuse survivor – running, hiding – would she find the strength she needed to survive? In The Dress it was Joy – obsession with beauty led her to rock-bottom in her addiction – would she rise again and discover the beauty within? In Only Ever You – Rose’s desperate single-minded passion threatened to destroy the very love she craved. Will these women get what they need? What they deserve? Around them, their friends and rivals become part of their story – enriching and weaving. Together, with these women I try to paint pictures of the complex and beautiful nature of being a women and where our passions lead us. The women I write about have different lives and live in different eras – but, in their hearts, they are taking the same journey as all of us. The search for love, meaning and redemption and the crazy, sometimes dangerous adventures our desires lead us into.

So, without further ado – meet my new cover girls!

Annie from That Girl – Joy from The Dress and Rose from Only Ever You.

Exclusively for U.S and Canada e-books, we have 1930s country-woman and Mayo femme fatale Bernadine, from The Perfect Marriage (formerly Recipes for a Perfect Marriage) who discovers love for her schoolteacher husband through her passion for cooking.

On the cover of Little Miracle, meet feisty Irishwoman Eileen. She cannot forget the baby boy she gave up for adoption in 60s Dublin – will she find him again before her own life runs out?

With the help of the brilliant design team at Head of Zeus – I have put my heart on my sleeve – and on the covers of my books.

I hope you love them as much as I do.

Kate x

| Order Link |

Visit Amazon UK to order your own copies.

| Publisher Info|

Head of Zeus

Website: www.headofzeus.com/

Facebook: www.facebook.com/headofzeus/

Twitter: @HoZ_Books

Thank you to the team at HOZ for the opportunity to the on the blog tour and for my copy of the book.

If you enjoyed the blog please leave a like and a comment. We would love it if you could share it on Twitter & Facebook. It really helps us to grow. Thanks so very much.

You can also connect with Love Books Group on social media for more bookish news and giveaways:- Twitter Instagram Facebook

#Exclusive Kate Kerrigan Special Feature @katekerrigan @HoZ_Books #Covers Kate Kerrigan Special Feature ‘Kate Kerrigan's distinct storytelling links the ghosts of our pasts with modern dilemmas.

#Author #Book Blog #Book News #Book Review #Covers #Exclusive Feature #Fiction #Order Link

0 notes

cathygeha · 7 years ago

Photo

Can the scoundrel second son, Lord Marcus Bowles, and Genevieve Turner, a woman of ill-repute, find happiness? Or will his roguish ways and her dark past forever tear them apart? Fans of Tessa Dare’s Twice Tempted by a Rogue will love this sensual read releasing December 2017 from Sourcebooks Casablanca.

Rafflecopter for The Lord Meets His Lady Blog Tour Celebration Giveaway:

Gina is offering one (1) lucky Grand Prize winner an Amazon Kindle Fire and three (3) Runner Ups an eCopy of a book in Gina’s Midnight Meetings series (Winner’s Choice)! To enter, simply fill out the Rafflecopter below:

Direct Link:

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b050ef29454/?

About The Lord Meets His Lady:

Title: The Lord Meets His Lady

Author: Gina Conkle

Genre: Historical Romance

Release Date: December 5, 2017

Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca

Series: Midnight Meetings

Format: Digital eBook / Print

Print ISBN: 9781492651901

Digital ISBN: 9781402294341

Synopsis:

Lord Marcus Bowles has stained his family's reputation for the last time. Only after spending a scandal-free year restoring some far-flung property can this second son return in good graces. But Marcus isn't one to abandon a lone damsel on a dark country lane.

One stolen kiss and Genevieve Turner's handsome midnight savior disappears. Typical. No matter, Gen is finally on the way to her new post, and hopefully to finding her grandmother as well. Instead she finds her mischievous hero is her new employer. Surely a few more kisses won't hurt...

Available at: Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | iTunes | Google Play

Excerpt:

“Have you kissed her yet?” Samuel asked.

Marcus and Samuel rode along the pasture’s perimeter with an eye to the cottage. Miss Turner’s vibrant red cloak stood out against mellow sandstone. Shovel in hand, she jabbed the earth with determined thrusts. The weeds didn’t stand a chance.

“I assume we’re speaking of my housekeeper.” Marcus halted Khan. “A hardworking, respectable woman of excellent character. She’s done a fine job with Pallinsburn. I wouldn’t besmirch her honor with talk like that nor should you.”

Samuel rode on, his shoulders bouncing with laughter. “And every night she ascends to heaven on angel’s wings.”

If his friend saw right through him, how soon before others did?

“Came on strong, did I?”

Samuel pinched a small space between his thumb and forefinger. “A little.”

He urged his horse forward. “I don’t want her reputation damaged.”

“Should’ve thought about that before making her your housekeeper. People will talk.”

Marcus searched Miss Turner out again, a gust boxing his ears like some admonishing aunt.

Was it so wrong to want to help a woman in need?

His housekeeper cleared the last weedy invaders off his front step. Her serious exterior belied deep-seated passion, evidenced in the way she dove into every task. The enthusiasm fascinated him.

And yes, he admired her other parts.

“What will people talk about? Her youth?” he retorted. “Does a woman have to be long in the tooth to hold a decent position?”

“No, but it’d help if you were toothless. Or married.” Samuel stared ahead, the wind assaulting his queue. “We don’t set the rules, but we both know them.”

“You hired her, and you’re not a married man.”

Samuel’s gaze pinned him. “Nor do I have your unsavory reputation.”

“I’d wager my housekeeper has more honor, more determination in her little finger than any woman of my acquaintance,” he said fiercely. “Who I am should have no bearing on her.”

“Me thinks you doth protest too much…or whatever that drivel is. A clear sign you have it bad for her, but haven’t touched her. Yet.”

Why did Samuel hunt for sordid details? Likely he’d seen through Miss Turner with her low-cut bodices and saucy skirts. Didn’t matter. She worked hard. He didn’t care if she fit the proper housekeeper stamp or not.

He ought to buy a dull grey gown for her, if only to aid her reputation. Smiling against his collar, he guessed she wouldn’t wear it. Nor should she have to. One look at his red-cloaked gardener and he was certain of one thing: he’d do his anything to keep his friend, or any man, on the straight and narrow when it came to Miss Turner. She deserved a fresh start.

His housekeeper had nabbed a piece of his heart.

But the afternoon ride wasn’t meant to discuss his housekeeper’s allure. Samuel pulled his hat low, failing to look him in the eye.

“Quoting Shakespeare,” Marcus said. “You must be reading with Adam again.”

REVIEW:

The Lord Meets His Lady, Gina Conkle

Midnight Meetings #3

I have mixed feelings about this book. It is the first book I have read by this author and though it is well written I found it difficult to believe. In some ways I found Marcus’s friend – Samuel – more interesting than Marcus and would like to know what happens to Samuel and his brothers in the future more than I want to know about Marcus and his brothers. Also, I have trouble believing that a well-born second son, no matter what transgressions he has been seen to perpetrate to require being banished, would actually fall for and marry someone as common as Genevieve…at least in that era.

Loosely based on Red Riding Hood and the wolf with Genevieve in the part of Red and the man she unknowingly indentured herself to as the wolf this story is about her desire to get away from “the wolf” and move up in life even if it means acting as a housekeeper when never having been one. Into her life steps the Woodsman – Marcus did chop some wood – who is borderline alcoholic with a possible gambling addiction who has been banished to “improve” or at least stay hidden till his older brother can find an appropriate bride. They meet on the road, she becomes his housekeeper, they dance around one another, he goes into business of sorts with his friend Samuel, the Wolf reappears and has to be dealt with and eventually the two find a HEA together…I did feel like there was a cliffhanger ending with the couple heading off from their home to his family home in the making but have no idea if there is a book to follow or who that book might be about.

So…there were things I did and did not like about this book. I can’t say that Marcus or Genevieve “talked to me” or that they were people that I would value as friends. I believe it is a book some will love and some will like and some might not like so very much. It has plenty of pages and storylines and characters and action and threads to follow with the potential for another book in the making BUT it is not a book that thrilled my soul or made me eager to pick up that next book when it comes out. I am rather sitting on the fence on this on so…

Thank you Sourcebooks Casablanca and Barclay Publicity for the ARC – this is my honest review.

3 Stars

Other Books in the Midnight Meetings series:

Meet the Earl at Midnight

It's going to take a Beast to tame this Beauty

Enigma Earl. The Phantom of London. That's what the gossip pages call Lord Edward Greenwich, a mysterious nobleman who doesn't show his face in London Society. With a reputation like that, no wonder Lydia Montgomery is horrified to be dragged from bed and packed off to live with him to save her mother from penury.

While Lydia has received all of the training a lady should endure, she's decidedly un-ladylike. She despises her corset and isn't interested in marriage. She'd prefer to remain unmarried and spend her time improving her art. But if she wants a chance at happiness, she'll have to set aside her fear of the earl and discover the man hiding behind the beast.

Will Edward and Lydia's greatest discovery be each other before time runs out?

Available at: Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | iTunes | Google Play

The Lady Meets Her Match

Locating Her Is Only Half The Battle...

Cyrus Ryland didn't become England's wealthiest bachelor by being a pushover, but the mysterious beauty he discovers sneaking around at his grand ball enflames his curiosity. When the clock chimes midnight, and she's nowhere to be found, Cyrus vows to scour all of London to uncover who she is. Little does he know that not only does Claire Mayhew not want to be found, but she wants nothing to do with him at all...

Available at: Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | iTunes | Google Play

Meet the Rogue at Midnight

A Saved Scoundrel…

Jonas Bacon Braithwaite wants to make peace with his grandfather before departing England. Once Nottinghamshire’s favorite trouble-maker, he’s since become an upstanding man of honor. But, the lushly curved thief hiding in his bedchamber makes him think twice about one last conquest.

A Stubborn Siren…

Livvy Halsey bristles at life’s rules. Always has. Sneaking into the Braithwaite house to reclaim a treasured family heirloom is one way she upends the conventional life that awaits her. Duty demands she marry. But what harm is there in having a little fun with her childhood friend before the Twelfth Night ends?

And Twilight Temptation…

Stolen kisses fan hot flames. Surprising passion intertwines with friendship…but will it be enough to last forever?

Available at: Amazon

About Gina Conkle:

Gina Conkle writes lush Viking romance and sensual Georgian romance. Her books always offer a fresh, addictive spin on the genre with the witty banter and sexual tension that readers crave. She grew up in southern California and despite all that sunshine, Gina loves books over beaches and stone castles over sand castles. Now she lives in Michigan with her favorite alpha male, Brian, and their two sons where she’s known to occasionally garden and cook.

http://www.barclaypublicity.com

#Gina Conkle #Historical Romance #Sourcebook Casablanca #Barclay Publicity #Midnight Meetings 3

0 notes