#and I get to sing so many of my favourite songs with twenty THOUSAND other people | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lafleshlumpeater · 4 months ago

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lover thoughts:

i forgot that you existed:

cruel summer: 5/5

' "i love you," ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?'

i'm actually so not normal about this song. every time i tell myself i've gotten over it, i listen to it again and literally start thrumming on the spot. cruel summer will always have a place in my heart above all other songs bc it's what got me listening to the rest of taylor's songs. it gives me a lot of forbidden love/one sided love pining vibes, two of my favourite tropes. the bridge is so fun to scream to, it's such a summer song, and it just slaps differently. will never not be good to me tbh, it doesn't deserve ANY hate

lover: 4.25/5

'have i known you twenty seconds, or twenty years?'

the one and only title track. it embodies the full album so well, and is just such a masterpiece. i usually don't like the title tracks of taylor's albums as much as the others, however lover is probably the only exception. every time this song plays, you just think of THAT person. beautiful. the only reason i haven't given this song 5/5 is because sometimes i MIGHT skip lover if i've had a bad day or just not in the mood- basically it's not a song that uplifts you or can be played whenever. on the other hand i gave it an extra 0.25 because of the live performance of lover the first show after the breakup was announced officially- seeing the opposite and sad side of that song which i had never even thought about made me love this song so much more

the man: 4/5

'when everyone believes ya, what's that like?'

I SIMPLY DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY THIS SONG GETS SO MUCH HATE?? it's such a bop, and i can only dream of angry singing this with a huge crowd with thousands of other girls. it's the perfect angry iconic song, and i can't remember ever skipping it. also the blazers and silver + red bottomed shoes from the eras tour are so iconic. again, i can't think of a negative element of this song except that i don't think it directly links to the main theme of the album, however it still somehow fits. i also like how the lyrics aren't saying that all men lie, cheat, are narcissistic, etc but instead how people disregard these things ONLY when they're done by men, however accuse women of these same things

the archer: 1.5/5

'screaming, who could ever leave me, darling? but who could stay?'

listen. i can't like this song, and i have genuinely tried. i'm not sure what it is, maybe the constant repetition of the same lyrics (but i understand that was done deliberately to create a certain effect). one thing i can give it credit for, however, is that i think the lyrics and the beat convey exactly the message and emotions she wanted it to convey. but yeah. i'm not particularly partial to many of the track fives either. also don't attack me but i've been waiting for this to be cut from the setlist forever BUT another thing i can give it credit for is the iconic 'the archer' pose

i think he knows: 4.75/5

'he's so obsessed with me, and boy i understand- boy i understand'

again, another underrated bop. tbh i never took much interest in this song, but a few weeks back i heard it for the first time in a while and it just went so hard. the clicking beat in the back (listen, i don't know my musical terms), the LYRICS, the implications of the song contrasting the kinda upbeat happy-go-lucky sound of it is just so good and quite unlike taylor's usually style. also, one thing she doesn't do enough in her song's that i'm OBSESSED with is singing particular lyrics in such a way that you can hear her expressions (like the cheeky smile you can hear in the lyric i wrote above, and in 'it's like i'm seventeen no-one understand, no-one understands'), and because she does this TWICE in one song makes it so precious to me. idk i'm just such a i think he knows defender it's so slept on

miss americana and the heartbreak prince: 3.75/5

'boys will be boys then, where are the wise men?'

THIS SONG IS SO GOOD. like to me this song has always been the embodiment of taylor and just the journey she's been through and everything that's happened along the way (even though it doesn't explicitly mention anything, but that's just the vibes it gives me). opening the eras tour with this song was such a good choice that tbh i never expected, but yeah. again, the hate for this song is so unsolicited like... the only reason i haven't given this song a higher score is because it's a great song, but when compared to the rest of the album, it's not one of my tops.

paper rings: 3.75/5

'i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this'

WHY SO MUCH HATE FOR SUCH A CUTE SONG?? this song is so fun and i love listening to paper rings sped up to practically rap to it 😭😭 it literally embodies the friends to lovers trope so well, and it's so FUN i honestly don't understand the hate. it was actually one of the first songs from lover that i listened to. again, the only reason this isn't ranked higher is because this would definitely be in my top ten lover songs, but not top five. also, like lover, sometimes you're just angry or sad and this is definitely NOT the song for those sort of moods

cornelia street: 5/5

'and baby, i get mystified by how this city screams your name'

I DESPISE MY PAST SELF FOR INITIALLY NOT LIKING THIS SONG. i could go on and on about cornelia street for hours, it's the perfect mix of bittersweet and a cute love song. tbh, i've always considered it a sweet song until i saw the performance of when she did it acoustic as a surprise song, and girl was ANGRY (if there's something anyone should know about my ts preferences, is that i am OBSESSED with her angry performances- they give songs so much more meaning and offer a very different perspectives to songs in some cases), and ever since then i've only ever seen it as a resentful and reminiscing breakup song. also i've only just realised after listening to cornelia street and false god back to back that she says 'i get mystified by how this city screams your name' and in false god she says 'i'm new york city'... ughhh i will never get over this song

death by a thousand cuts: 2.5/5

'my heart, my hips, my body, my love, trying to find a part of me that you didn't touch'

again, this song is so great but i feel like it doesn't resonate with me as much as it does with others. like yes i will sing along (and scream the bridge, bc it carries the whole song in my opinion) but i would much rather listen to something else off of lover. but i can definitely see myself coming to love this song so much if i put the effort in, but to be perfectly honest i have not done that 😭😭

london boy: 4.25/5

'show me a grey sky, a rainy cab ride, babe don't threaten me with a good time'

yet again. why so much hate for such a cute song?? it captures the feeling of being in love so well, and it's just so upbeat and fun. also, after the breakup and 'so long, london', it hits so different and in a good way tbh. it was also one of the first songs from lover that i genuinely would never skip, and for that reason i listened to it too much (which is why i didn't rank it a little higher). london boy is such a bop and i will never be convinced otherwise

soon you'll get better:

false god: 5/5

'and you can't talk to me when i'm like this, daring you to leave me just so i can try and scare you'

everyone and their MOTHER knows how obsessed i am with this song. i will never, ever get sick of it and it's so slept on!! why does everyone always rank it so low?? the jazzy saxophone, the outro, the metaphors, everything about this song just slaps so hard. definitely in my top five ts songs out of all her albums, i just love it so much. no words for this song except for perfection. taylor really ate with this and only few can recognise it, i really wish she would write more false god/so it goes/i don't wanna live forever/dress-esque songs

you need to calm down: 3.25/5

'and we see you over there on the internet, comparing all the girls who are killing it'

this song is honestly such a bop and fine to vibe to but again... compared to other songs on lover it would not be ranked very high. the bridge is so fun tho and her expressions she makes during singing the bridge at the eras tour are so fun. also i more often than not find myself skipping it but at the same time i do find myself craving it. also the 'idon'twannamesswithyourselfexpression' part is so fun to rap to fr

afterglow: 4.5/5

'this ultraviolet morning light below, tell me this love is worth the fight, oh'

i don't think afterglow is AS underrated as some others, but i feel like it's really overshadowed by daylight. the 'woah's and 'oh's in this song are SO GOOD, and the lyrics are just out of this world. tbh i've only really started being obsessed with this song recently, but it's genuinely such a banger. the performance of it at the eras tour was SO GOOD, genuinely made me want to cry. it's kind of like cornelia street, in the sense that it initially sounds like a sweet, yearning love song but is really just 'you're losing me' prior to the realisation that a relationship needs effort from both sides to make it work...

me!: 3/5

'and when we had that fight out in the rain, you ran after me and called my name'

I WILL ALWAYS DEFEND THIS SONG. it's so fun and upbeat, and (i think?) one of the few songs which highlight individuality and being different. i don't understand the hate for it, and it's genuinely disappointing to see how some people reacted to having me as a surprise song at the eras tour- i can sympathise with not liking the song, but being downright annoyed or angry is unjustified. i feel like if people genuinely tried to like it, they could- also, i think i feel like it's a 'thing' now where people just hate me! only because everyone else does, because in some comments sections you'll find EVERYONE defending it and in others EVERYONE absolutely slamming it

it's nice to have a friend: 3.25/5

'light pink sky up on the roof, sun sinks down, no curfew'

again, underrated and slept on. i like the 'ooh's throughout the whole song, it makes it sound so nostalgic and makes you miss something that you never had. i love the platonic aspect of this song as well as the undertones of friends to lovers- it's one of those songs that will never be uninteresting. the only reason i have not ranked it higher is yet again, there are other songs on lover that i would choose over inthaf any day

daylight: 3.75/5

'i don't wanna look at anything else now that i saw you'

this would probably be a little higher however afterglow really outdoes this song for me (idk why but i've always associated these two songs together 😭😭. however i will say this bridge was written so well, however i'm not sure if i like the key change in the bridge, i prefer the lower (again, forgive my lack of technical terms ejhdbjwh) pitch/tone she sings the rest of the song in. but i do like the fact that this is the last track of the album, i think it really fits and is just such a great conclusion to the whole thing, and the whole idea about there being 'daylight' after a 'dark night' and how that parallels that this song is the last on lover.

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dailytomlinson · 4 years ago

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While many artists would jump at the chance to tell you how lockdown has been a fruitful opportunity for self-improvement, full of pseudo self-help books and pompous podcasts, former One Directioner Louis Tomlinson is adamant that he has done, well, nothing.

“I’ve just watched loads of s___ TV,” he says after a long pause. “The Undoing is decent, isn’t it?”

Twenty-eight--year-old Tomlinson from Doncaster was always the down-to-earth Directioner, frequently describing himself as fringe member who spent more time analysing the band’s contracts than singing solos, known for chain-smoking his way through several packs of cigarettes a day and swearing like a trooper. A rarity, these days, among millennials who’d rather suck on a stem of kale and tweet about their #blessings.

The gig means a great deal to Tomlinson, whose first ever tour as a solo artist, to promote his debut solo album WALLS, was cut short back in March after just two concerts in Spain and Mexico. It was an album he’d spent five years working on: a guitar-led project that ruptured with the preppy pop anthems of One Direction, inspired instead by Tomlinson’s love for Britpop.

No doubt he was anxious to get it right following a decade “grown in test tubes”, as Harry Styles once described the band’s formation on the X Factor, where they came third before going on to make a reported $280,000 a day as the most successful band in the world. The pressure, too, was intense: all four bandmates had already released their own solo debuts.

Was he left reeling, I ask, unable to perform at such a crucial moment?

“The thing that I always enjoyed the most about One Direction was playing the shows, so my master plan, when I realised I was going to do a solo career, was always my first tour. It’s something I’ve been looking forward to for the best part of five years now. I got so close, I got a taste for it, and it’s affected me like everyone else, but I’m forever an optimist,” he says down the phone, with what I can only imagine to be a rather phlegmatic shrug.

Sure, I say, but the last year can’t have been easy. Didn’t he feel like his purpose had popped?

“You know what,” he says, reflecting, “maybe because I’ve had real dark moments in my life, they’ve given me scope for optimism. In the grand scheme of things, of what I’ve experienced, these everyday problems...they don’t seem so bad.”

Tomlinson is referring to losing his 43-year-old mother, a midwife, to leukemia in 2016, and his 18-year-old sister Felicite, a model, to an accidental drug overdose in 2018. The double tragedy is something he has been open about on his own terms, dedicating his single, Two of Us, from WALLS, to his mother Johannah, while often checking in with fans who have lost members of their own family.

It’s not unusual for Tomlinson to ask his 34.9 million followers if they’re doing alright, receiving hundreds of thousands of personal replies. It’s not something he will discuss in interviews, however, after he slammed BBC Breakfast for shamelessly probing his trauma in February this year. “Never going back there again,” he tweeted after coming off the show.

“Social media is a ruthless, toxic place, so I don’t like to spend much time there,” says Tomlinson, “but because of experiencing such light and shade all while I was famous, I have a very deep connection with my fans. They’ve always been there for me.”

In return, Tomlinson is good to them. Last month he even promised some new music, saying that he’d written four songs in four days. Does this mean that a second album is on the way?

“Yeah, definitely,” he says. “I’m very, very excited. I had basically penciled down a plan before corona took over our lives. And now it's kind of given me a little bit of time to really get into what I want to say and what I want things to sound like. Because, you know, I was really proud of my first record, but there were moments that I felt were truer to me than others. I think that there were some songs where I took slightly more risk and owned what I love, saying, ‘This is who I want to be’. So I want to take a leaf out of their book.”

Fans might think he’s referring to writing more heartfelt autobiographical content such as Two of Us, but in fact, he’s referring specifically to rock-inspired Kill My Mind, he says, the first song on WALLS. “There’s a certain energy in that song, in its delivery, in its attitude, that I want to recreate. People are struggling at the moment, so I want to create a raucous, exciting atmosphere in my live show, not a somber, thoughtful one.”

He sighs, trying to articulate something that’s clearly been playing on his mind for a while. “You know, because of my story, my album was a little heavy at times and a little somber. And as I'm sure you're aware, from talking to me, now, that isn't who I am.”

It must be draining, I say, the weight of expectation in both the media and across his fanbase, to be a spokesperson for grief and hardship. To have tragedy prelude everything he does and says.

“Honestly, it’s part of being from Doncaster as well, I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. That’s the last thing I want.”

Too many incredible memories to mention but not a day goes by that I don't think about how amazing it was. @NiallOfficial @Harry_Styles @LiamPayne @zaynmalik . So proud of you all individually.

The problem is, says Tomlinson, he doesn’t have the best imagination. “I have interesting things to say musically, but what’s challenging from a writing perspective is that I write from the heart, and I can’t really get into someone else’s story. And right now, being stuck at home, you have so little experience to draw from. It’s actually quite hard to write these positive, uplifting songs, because actually, the experiences that you're going through on a day to day basis, you know, you they don't have that same flavour.”

There is something that’s helping, though: a secret spot near Los Angeles, where he divides his time. “It’s remote and kind of weird, and I’m going to go there for three days and write. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it. I found it via a YouTube video. It’s got some very interesting locals who live there, it’s sort of backwards when it comes to technology. It feels like you’re going back in time when you’re there. But I don’t want to give it away.”

Another source of inspiration for his second album is the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ back catalogue. “I grew up on their album Bytheway. And during lockdown I've been knee deep in their stuff. I’ve watched every documentary, every video. And I find their lead guitarist John Frusciante just fascinating.”

Has he spoken to Frusicante?

“I f______ wish,” snorts Tomlinson.

Surely someone as well-known as Tomlinson could easily get in touch?

“No, honestly, I think he’s too cool for that. He’s not into that kind of thing.”

Tomlinson’s passion for all things rock is also spurring on a side hustle he picked up as a judge on the X Factor in 2018: managing an all-female rock band via his own imprint on Simon Cowell’s Syco label. While the group disbanded before releasing their first single, and Tomlinson split from Syco earlier this year, the singer is keen to nurture some more talent.

“I'm not gonna lie, my process with my imprint through Syco, it became challenging and it became frustrating at times,” Tomlinson says a little wearily. “The kind of artists that I was interested in developing – because I genuinely feel through my experience in One Direction, you know, one of the biggest f______ bands, I feel like I've learned a lot about the industry – they weren’t ready-made. So I had lots of artists that I took through the door that were rough and ready, but major labels want to see something that works straight away. I found that a little bit demotivating. I love her and she's an incredible artist, but not everyone is a Taylor Swift.”

Tomlinson spends much of his free time scouting new talent either on YouTube, Reddit or BBC Introducing – he’s currently a huge fan of indie Brighton band, Fickle Friends. His dream is to manage an all-female band playing instruments. “Because there's no one in that space. And I know eventually if I don't do it, someone else will!”

Before he drives off to rehearsals, we chatter about how much he's been practising his guitar playing, and how he can't wait to take the whole team working at his favourite grassroots venue, The Dome in Doncaster, out ice-skating after he performs there on his rescheduled tour. “Because I've got skills,” he says, and I can hear his chest puff.

And then I ask the question every retired member of One Direction has been batting off ever since they broke up in 2015, after Zayn Malik quit. Rumours that his bandmates saw him as a Judas went wild after some eagle eyes fans noticed they’d unfollowed him on Instagram. Payne, Tomlinson, Horan and Styles have barely mentioned him since. Recently, however, they re-followed him, and Payne has teased that a One Direction reunion is on the cards.

So: might 2021 be the year of resurrection?

“I thought you were going to ask something juicier!” say Tomlinson witheringly. “Look, I f______ love One Direction. I'm sure we're going to come back together one day, and I'll be doing a couple of One Direction songs in my gig. I always do that, so that's not alluding to any reunion or anything. But, I mean, look, I'm sure one day we'll get back together, because, you know, we were f______ great.”

#telegraph uk #press #louis tomlinson #241120 #its FULL of stunts as telegraph usually goes #stunt mention #Eleanor Halls

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natromanxoff · 3 years ago

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Queen live at National Bowl in Milton Keynes, UK - June 5, 1982 (Part-1)

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It was originally intended for the band to play this concert at Arsenal Stadium in Highbury, but it was moved to Milton Keynes for the same reason the Leeds show wasn't played at the famed Old Trafford. It's also worth noting that the band wanted to play at London's famous Royal Albert Hall as well, but the plan was never orchestrated as there was much fear that the weight of Queen's lighting rig would make the ceiling cave in. An early tour itinerary listed two London shows (June 4 and 5) on the agenda. The Teardrop Explodes were among the bands (the same line-up as last week in Leeds) who opened for Queen at this show. Their guitarist, Julian Cope, stood before about 40 thousand Queen fans and introduced the next song as being probably the best song they had ever heard, prompting someone near the stage to throw a toilet seat at him, which missed (people are known to bring cameras and certain substances to concerts, but toilet seats?). Lemonade bottles were then thrown at the guitarist which he tossed back into the audience. The complete Queen concert was filmed. A shortened video was shown on UK TV on a show called "The Tube" in January 1983 (omitting Action This Day, the bit of Las Palabras de Amor, Back Chat, Get Down Make Love, part of the guitar solo, Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Another One Bites The Dust, and Sheer Heart Attack), and on MTV in the US in August 1983 (the latter was a simulcast, with the audio being broadcast on FM radio in stereo, on the west coast, at least). The video was edited by Gavin Taylor, who was later invited by the band to direct the now famous video at Wembley Stadium in 1986. An even shorter version (about 50 minutes long) of the Milton Keynes video was shown on UK TV in 2001 (and many times since). Both the Milton Keynes and Wembley shows would eventually be released on DVD uncut. The 2004 official release of this show (both on CD and DVD) is called "Queen On Fire: Live At The Bowl". The DVD is a beautiful document of Queen's show at the time, packed full of classic Queen moments. There are also extras from 1982 shows in Vienna and Tokyo. After a great version of Play The Game, Freddie essentially apologizes to the audience for much of the latest album's content: "Now most of you know that we've got some new songs out in the last week. For what it's worth we're gonna do a few songs in the funk/black category, whatever you call it. That doesn't mean we've lost our rock and roll feel, okay? I mean it's only a bloody record. People get so excited about these things! We just wanna try out a few songs. This is Staying Power." For some reason part of the speech was removed for the CD release of "Live At The Bowl." Without a doubt this is his definitive live delivery of the song, pulling off all of the stops. Mercury is at his peak tonight. Somebody To Love has been a vocal adventure of Freddie's for the past couple years. His intro is different every night, as is his solo spot towards the end. The version captured here on film is surely one of his best. Before launching into the familiar piano theme, he asks the audience in a moment for the ages, "Are you ready?" And in excitement, "Huh? Are you ready brothers and sisters?" Part way through his vocal exchange with the audience in Now I'm Here, Freddie says, "C'mon, we're gonna make you sing like Aretha Franklin." At the end of the successful duel, he jokingly says, "Right, you can join the band!" The r&b influence is never more evident than it is here, and it makes for a classic version of the song. Brian breaks a string just before his guitar solo in Dragon Attack. While he switches to a Red Special copy, John Deacon gets to play the bass solo as it's heard on the record - the one and only time he has the chance to do it. It's on the fly, and he nails it note for note. "Las Palabras de Amor" was released as a single a few days ago, and Brian plays a small bit of it on his 12-string acoustic before Love Of My Life. He then mentions how the band won't be playing their "song of peace" tonight, as he calls it. This remains the only show where the Hot Space ballad would be referenced. Brian's guitar briefly cuts out during his solo spot, a moment that was edited out of the 1983 TV broadcasts (and slightly edited on the CD release) but seen uncut on the DVD. Brian's guitar tech is seen rushing on and off stage within seconds, having quickly resolved the issue (it was likely a sticky pickup switch). About half way through Sheer Heart Attack, Brian sneaks in the riff from I Go Crazy an octave up, and much faster, to match the tempo of the energetic News Of The World rocker. The song would be dropped from the set after this show, only to emerge again late in the pending North American tour. This would be Morgan Fisher's last show with the band as the touring keyboardist. A number of theories abound about his departure, including butting heads with Mercury's personal manager Paul Prenter or his apparent fear of flying, but it was simply a case of him moving on to other gigs (Fisher confirmed in a 2009 interview that he has never been afraid of airplanes). The CD and DVD releases would be patched up a bit, most notably in the third verse of Fat Bottomed Girls where Freddie's voice cracked badly on "locality," as well as for "now I'm here, now I'm there." Roger's timing with the guitar delays at the end of May's solo spot was bit off at the show, but this is fixed up as well. The sound quality as a whole is much better than the broadcasts, but there are a couple differences in the mix - some of Brian's backing vocals (particularly at the end of Somebody To Love) can be clearly heard in the broadcast mix but were brought down for the official releases, and compression has been added to Roger's snare drum, giving it a much fatter sound compared to Queen Rock Montreal. Brian May and Roger Taylor are interviewed before the show, as shown on the Bowl DVD and the original TV broadcasts. Brian reveals that he really enjoys playing Play The Game. He explains, "You've done your leaping about, and you've made your statement on your entry. And then you can settle down and start really playing something." Roger says his current favourite is Under Pressure. On the day before this show Freddie's boyfriend at the time had bitten him between his thumb and forefinger during a fight, causing it to bleed profusely and require stitches. On the DVD, Freddie is seen tossing the bandage around just before coming on stage. The sixth picture was submitted by Fabio Minero, and the eighth is from Alessio Rizzitelli. The second set was taken by Brenski.

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Fan Stories

“At the time, I was living on the Mull Of Kintyre on the West coast of Scotland. I remember being elated at getting tickets for the last gig of the UK tour. I always tried to get 'last night' tickets, because the band were famous for always going a little more 'over the top' on each of their tour's final nights. So, we drove down from Scotland, which took an eternity with fuel and meal stops, and stayed at the in-law's on the south coast of England. The next day we set for the 'new-town' of Milton Keynes, about 100 miles or so, away. We got there quite early before the gates opened and the weather was unsettled, lightly raining for about five minutes nearly every other hour. The support bands for the day were 'Teardrop Explodes', who had a fairly big hit with a song called 'Reward'. I quite liked Julian Cope and his band, but this WAS a rock gig, and the audience weren't generally as receptive to this brass backed 'new romantic' style of music. The customary sea of lemonade bottles headed towards the stage ensued. Now it was over twenty years ago, and the memory starts to fade a bit after a while, so I'm not sure whether 'Heart' were next on, or 'Joan Jett and the Blackhearts'. Either way, both bands played well, and were most enjoyable. Joan Jett had recently had a very big hit with 'I Love Rock'n'Roll' (very recently covered by Britney Spears), and the crowd loved that one. This was prior to 'Heart' having a major hit in the UK, but they were at that time an established and well known band. Looking at the stage, there were these items that looked like little vehicles hanging from the gantry, we later found out that these were individual self contained lighting platforms with a guy sat in each directing three spotlights wherever they were required to do so. The Queen set itself started with an extended backing tape from the intro of Flash Gordon. Most of you will have seen the video of this gig, so I won't labour on about what they played too much. Only that the crowd, as a whole, weren't into the 'Hot Space' numbers that much. Personally, I was watching my favourite band, so I didn't really care what they played, as long as it was theirs. The bits cut out of the video, included an intro to 'Las Palabras De Amor' from Brian, (just before 'Love Of My Life'), though they never actually played the whole song, Brian announced that they were not doing their song of peace tonight. Brian's two-day guitar solo was edited out, as was 'Fat Bottomed Girls', the intro harmonies on this did come across as pretty iffy, and of all songs, they also edited out 'Crazy Little Thing Called Love', much to my disappointment, as I'd heckled Freddie about his ability as a guitarist, and 'stone me', he only went and answered me. Knebworth '86 was a much better show, but I know I'm lucky enough to have had the honour to be able to compare them.” - Steve_C/Kes

Part-2

Part-3

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon #queen concerts

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louistomlinsoncouk · 4 years ago

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“I’ve just watched loads of s___ TV,” he says after a long pause. “The Undoing is decent, isn’t it?”

Far from aimless, however, today the singer is full of beans, cheerily shushing his barking dog as he potters about his North London home where he lives with his best friend from home, Oli, and his girlfriend, the model Eleanor Calder.

Was he left reeling, I ask, unable to perform at such a crucial moment?

Sure, I say, but the last year can’t have been easy. Didn’t he feel like his purpose had popped?

In return, Tomlinson is good to them. Last month he even promised some new music, saying that he’d written four songs in four days. Does this mean that a second album is on the way?

It must be draining, I say, the weight of expectation in both the media and across his fanbase, to be a spokesperson for grief and hardship. To have tragedy prelude everything he does and says.

“Honestly, it’s part of being from Doncaster as well, I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. That’s the last thing I want.”

There is something that’s helping, though: a secret spot near Los Angeles, where he divides his time to see his four-year-old son, Freddie, whom he shares with his ex Briana Jungwirth, a stylist. “It’s remote and kind of weird, and I’m going to go there for three days and write. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it. I found it via a YouTube video. It’s got some very interesting locals who live there, it’s sort of backwards when it comes to technology. It feels like you’re going back in time when you’re there. But I don’t want to give it away.”

Has he spoken to Frusicante?

“I f______ wish,” snorts Tomlinson.

Surely someone as well-known as Tomlinson could easily get in touch?

“No, honestly, I think he’s too cool for that. He’s not into that kind of thing.”

So: might 2021 be the year of resurrection?

#louis tomlinson #24nov20

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hlupdate · 4 years ago

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“I’ve just watched loads of s___ TV,” he says after a long pause. “The Undoing is decent, isn’t it?”

Far from aimless, however, today the singer is full of beans, cheerily shushing his barking dog as he potters about his North London home where he lives with his best friend from home, Oli, [...].

Was he left reeling, I ask, unable to perform at such a crucial moment?

Sure, I say, but the last year can’t have been easy. Didn’t he feel like his purpose had popped?

In return, Tomlinson is good to them. Last month he even promised some new music, saying that he’d written four songs in four days. Does this mean that a second album is on the way?

It must be draining, I say, the weight of expectation in both the media and across his fanbase, to be a spokesperson for grief and hardship. To have tragedy prelude everything he does and says.

“Honestly, it’s part of being from Doncaster as well, I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. That’s the last thing I want.”

There is something that’s helping, though: a secret spot near Los Angeles, [...] “It’s remote and kind of weird, and I’m going to go there for three days and write. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it. I found it via a YouTube video. It’s got some very interesting locals who live there, it’s sort of backwards when it comes to technology. It feels like you’re going back in time when you’re there. But I don’t want to give it away.”

Has he spoken to Frusicante?

“I f______ wish,” snorts Tomlinson.

Surely someone as well-known as Tomlinson could easily get in touch?

“No, honestly, I think he’s too cool for that. He’s not into that kind of thing.”

So: might 2021 be the year of resurrection?

#louis tomlinson #241120 #lt livestream #e and f mentions from the journalist removed where there is [...]#nothing altered from louis #stunt mention #at the link

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anobscurename · 4 years ago

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ocean eyes – chris evans

concept: after a power outage cuts the heating, body warmth is the highest currency in the evans household. the slowest of slow burns, part 7 of many

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 1,1k

warnings: grumpy evans, loyal dodger, painfully slow burn

author's note: i just want them to kiss at this point but i meant what i said with slowest of slow burns

It was rare but not unheard of, power outages in the Hollywood Hills.

Many of the houses – if you could even call them that, those absurdly large homes of the elite dwarfing any and all buildings in your old neighbourhood – ran on on-premises generators.

Chris' place – your newfound home – was halfway to being one such house. He had a generator, but it was a manual start-up should the grid fail.

And fail the grid did, but only while it was well late into the night.

The temperatures in California were not particularly forgiving, even in summer. During the day, the heat was oppressive. But during the night...

It was the heating dying that had woken you up. The room still held some warmth, but your sheets were already starting to cool, causing you to withdraw your knees to your chest.

Another contributor to the fast lowering of temperature was the open en-suite bathroom door. The tiles were warmth's enemy, leeching all of it from the coziness you had enjoyed. In spite of your reluctance – horror movies had really done some permanent damage to your nighttime paranoia of psycho killers residing in the darkness – you agreed to keep it open after one specific night.

Chris had been home for a while at that point – around a week – and Dodger had spent almost every second at his side aside from quick good morning greetings to you or the numerous kisses you'd get on the grass of the expansive garden should you be around long enough to join the inseparable duo.

At some point, your morning routine had become sleeping in – until Chris began the ritual of letting Dodger into your room to drag you out of bed.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he'd smirk from behind his cup of coffee, watching as you groggily stumbled – looking fifty shades of bedraggled – into the kitchen, eyes squinting into the light.

He was almost always met with a sarcastic smile, and sometimes – if it was a particularly good dream you'd been "kissed" awake from – you'd even flip him off.

But at some point, Dodger started to miss you a little too. You could hear him pawing insistently at your bathroom door – having escaped Chris for the night and deciding to room with you for the remainder of it – begging to be let in.

You hadn't responded one night, guilty in your selfishness. Exhaustion had weighed you down, and you didn't want to leave the comfort of your bed. That was when Dodger started whining, howling for your company.

So you and Chris had agreed to keeping the doors open to the conjoining bathrooms, only at night. And, should you require it, closing the door as quietly as possible so as to not awake the other person. It was a respectable enough arrangement, and it didn't come without its perks.

One such as now.

Deciding the cold was too much to suffer alone, you sat up and patted your bed. Your movements were exaggerated, loud enough to alert the pup, but hopefully not loud enough to wake his owner.

You heard Dodger shift on Chris' bed, head raising from where it rested on Chris' shoulder, the charm on his collar tinkling with the movement.

"Dodger," you whisper-yelled. "Come here, boy."

You heard something else move – something bigger. Chris had slung a protective arm over Dodger, preventing his exit. "Don't you dare, bud," you heard Chris sleepily mumble.

"Dodger," you called louder. Your voice had taken on a sing-song quality, one you knew he responded well to.

"Dodge, buddy, stay here with me. You know how much I love you, bud, stay. Don't listen to her, ignore the siren song, bud."

It was now a battle for Dodger's affections – but, more specifically (at least at that very moment), the heat Dodger radiated on a regular basis. He was a hot water bottle on legs, often keeping your feet toasty while you immersed yourself in whatever book you were currently reading.

"Dodger, baby!" you sang out.

That was enough to do it. You heard some shuffling, and then the sound of victory as Dodger's paws landed on the wooden floors of Chris' bedroom. Every clack of his claws was a punctuation of the fact that you had won, and Chris had lost.

He scampered through the bathroom, and happily hopped onto your bed, circling his favourite spot – curled up right next to you – into a comfortable little patch. He flopped onto you with a huff, looking up at you with those adorably large eyes.

"Good boy!" You scruffed his head in praise.

Chris groaned. "Traitor!"

———————

It took twenty minutes, which surprised you. You didn't think he'd last fifteen, but after twenty minutes, you heard him.

Bare feet hit the floor in the other room, padding silently on the wood, before slapping grumpily onto the tiled floors of the bathroom, getting louder as he drew closer.

He paused in the doorway, and you feigned noticing him for the first time although you had been expecting him for at least five minutes.

You turned your head, eyebrows raised expectantly. Innocently, you batted your lashes. "Yes?"

Nothing could've prepared you for the sight you saw. It took everything in you not to laugh.

Chris stood in your doorway, blankets draped over his shirtless figure, clung tightly by dejected hands. His head was hung, lips pouty, eyes bleary with sleep. His hair stuck out every which way, and he was toeing the ground, almost shy in his sleepiness. His grumbles were husky, barely audible. "You stole my dog. Temptress."

And, without invitation – although it had already been on your lips, waiting to be extended – Chris stalked grumpily toward you, peeling back the covers on the other side of Dodger and clambered into your bed.

"I'm sleeping here," he stated simply. "And if you don't like it, there's an empty bed through there."

He had lazily gestured towards the bathroom, in the general direction of the room in question, before snuggling up to Dodger again.

"Fine, but only for tonight," you giggled softly. He was acting like such a spoiled little kid who had just lost his favourite toy, and it was highly amusing.

"You steal my dog, I steal your bed. Fair exchange."

"I mean, it's only logical. Preserving body heat."

He hummed in agreement, eyes already slid closed, breath already evening out. You weren't sure if he had even heard you.

He looked so peaceful when he slept.

The sight was almost enough to make you ignore the thousand butterflies that had suddenly come alive in your stomach, stoking the fire in the pit of your belly, at the thought – now made tangible – of Chris Evans in your bed.

Almost.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans fanfic #chris evans/you #chris evans/reader #chris evans fluff #dodger evans #ocean eyes #dina writes

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matildashoney · 4 years ago

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All I’ve Ever Known // The Prologue

MOODBOARD // PREVIEW // TAGS // PLAYLIST // ASKS // LYTA

Let’s talk about Harry and Amelie!

Harry’s routine is always the same before a show. All of Live on Tour has been routine, at least.

That’s because Amelie has been around for nearly the entire tour, scheduling shows around when the meetings for her latest exhibition, her biggest exhibition – twenty pieces of art centred around boundaries and the journey to accepting them as they are – are going to be held, especially the mandatory meetings in-house with Susan – the agent that she’s started working with since she saw her work at an exhibition for up and coming artists two years ago and was thoroughly impressed – and Harry wanted to be as supportive as he could be. That meant being around, even if there was a world tour of eighty some dates across the globe.

Harry’s had the threat of losing Amelie once. He wouldn’t make that mistake, again.

His schedule for the day usually begins with getting to the venue, then soundcheck and tech rehearsal while the stage is being finalised, a light meal of some sort – usually that’s just Amelie eating and Harry having coffee and sitting with her because he’s a tad bit clingy – and a workout. Harry will shower and change, dragging Amelie into the bathroom and talking to her about any emails that she’s gotten, an update on any of the art and the designs that’s she’s been working on with the film that she was signed an artistic creative director for – which he was unbelievably proud of her for – and the dates that she would have to fly home to California to attend their meetings and go over the designs that the crew was working on.

Amelie and Harry were apart for a majority of the years before, nearly nine months apart two years ago and four months last year, graciously able to reconnect towards the end of the Live on Tour dates in late October when the major meetings were coming to a close regarding the exhibition and much of the creative direction was being sent through private emails and phone conferences. Harry was grateful that Amelie was with him, now, but he knew that she was stressed beyond measure. Amelie wears herself too thin, too often, and Harry doesn’t want to see her burn out like she had a year and a half before.

Harry would get changed shortly after his shower, getting in the chair and giving hair and makeup time to do their work, this being the moment that Amelie steps aside and tends to her computer work or talking with her cousin about where the best photographs would be taken for her to sketch out for a project she was working to give Harry for Christmas, that year.

Not that Harry knew this.

Then it’s Amelie’s turn, getting dressed in an outfit that most likely matches Harry’s suit to an extent. Harris designed a few dresses and pant suits for the final show to match what Harry had had selected for himself, giving her the options. Tonight, for the final show, Amelie is wearing the black and gold sparkled pantsuit that’s tight fitting to her chest and thighs, flaring at her calves, a new nose ring hooped into her piercing, her hair a new shade of platinum and curled the way she – and he – loves so much. Not that she admits it often, but it’s always her favourite when they match; it’s their hinted way of saying that they’re together without anyone actually catching on.

Three years in, and crowds are still oblivious to the relationship that they have, and it’s something they cherish, especially with how Harry is painted in the media more often than not. Helene is always very careful with their photographs, too, never sharing too much but always giving the pictures that she has of them backstage. Those might be their favourite shots, the ones where they’re kissing or Harry’s arms are tightly wrapped around her waist, or she’s wiping lipstick off his cheeks. Always a sweet reminder that they’re there, in this together, whatever it may bring.

And by the time everyone is done getting ready, Harry is ready to eat something light, warm his voice, and head on stage. Outside is buzzing with excitement, and they can already hear the crowd singing to “Olivia”, which is Harry’s favourite. Amelie’s computer is away, all of her attention ready to be set on her man, the love of her life, and admire him do what he loves on stage.

Harry was made to be there, to be the star of the show.

And tonight, this show, is bittersweet in a lot of ways. It’s the final Live on Tour date. Coming to a close of eighty-nine shows, all around the world, ninety minutes that tens of thousands can be themselves in one room, one arena. It’s special. It’s something that not many could do. Amelie knows that she surely couldn’t. It’s admirable and brave to be vulnerable to so many people. And although Harry would have liked to write an album a bit more authentic to his sound, what he loves, Amelie is encouraging him every step of the way that now he’s seen how many people adore him and want to see him be himself. He has a million chances to get it right, to grow, to change.

Anne is there. Fay and Luca. Phoebe and her girlfriend, Deb. Brandon and Autumn. Jenny and Dan, Amaya and Amari. All of their friends.

And Amelie. Always where Harry can see her. Always where Harry can know that she’s there to support him, and love him, and be the one that will hold him tight and say that’s she’s proud of him when the show comes to a close.

All of their entourage for the evening is gathered backstage, Amari on Jenny’s waist and Amaya standing close by to Uncle Harry as they all talk and decide on where the children will stay towards the end of the show. Harry’s extremely protective of his goddaughters – and his entire family – to say the least.

Jeff walks into the dressing room, telling Harry that’s it’s time to go, that the show is about to start. Sarah and Mitch walk in behind him, greeting everyone, Adam and Clare shuffling in. Harry is smiling, his heart full of love and so much happiness that isn’t quite sure what could be better.

That’s until Amelie brings him to the side, to the quiet corner in the hallway, taking a polaroid out of her pocket, one with Amelie kissing Harry’s cheek with a smile spread ear to ear on his lips, and sticking it inside the tiny slip in his suit jacket.

“Not one person in this arena could be prouder of you than I am,” Amelie smiles, her eyes wet with tears as Harry swipes a stray beneath her lashes, “and I want you to have this near your heart, to remind you that I fucking adore you and everything you do. All the songs, all the tears, all the love. That’s all you, inside of you. Less than two years and you’ve acted in a film, released an album, done two tours, and you’ve supported me like no one else ever has. Not one person on this planet will ever know the way it is to love you, and I’m beyond grateful that you chose me. I’ll do this with you forever, Harry.”

Harry’s on the verge of tears, now, cupping her jaw and kissing her in a way that could say everything he isn’t sure how to articulate. He loves her. God, he fucking loves her. And he’s sure that he loves her more than anyone could ever love another person in the entire world. That’s why there’s a ring in his duffle bag, a ring that her grandfather gave him the day they went to visit a day before his show, telling Harry that her grandmother always said that the person that falls in love with Amelie should have it, because it would mean more to her than she would ever admit. And Harry wants to give it to her, and everyday feels like the day.

“All for you, all of this is for you, you know that? Everything I do.”

Amelie wraps her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly, soaking in the way that for a moment, it’s only them and their love and how much of their life is surrounded by the way that they support each other. Her fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, not wanting to ruin his hair, even though she knows that he wouldn’t mind. And they stand that way for a few minutes, knowing that someone is going to come and whisk him away for the show to start, and Amelie will stand right where the stairs are to be the last person he sees before going on stage.

“I adore you, Harry Styles. More than anyone has ever loved another person,” Amelie whispers into his neck, and Harry pulls away for a moment to look at her. “And I am unbelievably proud of you. Not just as your girlfriend, but as your best friend.”

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” Harry stares at Amelie as if she’s hung the moon and the stars in the sky and aligned all the planets for them to live the life they’re living. Helene is hidden behind a wall, snapping pictures of the two in the middle of their moment, unable to hear the way they’re speaking so fondly of each other. They’ll want the memories, the photographs of the moment that only they shared. “You’ll be at the B Stage, right? I’m ready to sing my heart out to you.”

“Always.”

And Amelie’s right. Not one show has she missed being right there, standing in front of him, singing the words to the songs that he wrote for her, as his way to show the love that couldn’t be said in an everyday conversation.

“Harry, it’s time to go,” Tom says, kindly taking the two out of their bubble and patting Harry’s cheek. “Know where you’re going, Ames?”

Amelie smiles at the name, knowing that it’s all Harry’s doing that so many people in their life have taken to calling her that. “Always.”

“Great. Have to take him away but you’ll see him soon.”

Harry takes a deep breath, nodding to his manager and taking a few steps away and towards the huddled group in the centre of the corridor, all of his band and team and crew gathering to have a final few words before the show would begin. Amelie squeezes Harry’s hand reassuringly, stealing a kiss – not that she’s stealing much when she has about a hundred a day – and smiling, releasing him and gently nudging him towards the group, taking her backstage pass between her fingertips and walking towards the walkway of the stage, slinking down and hiding herself as security lights a path for her to the stairs. All of the band is shuffling quickly behind her, Harry talking to Jeff and giving Anne a kiss to her cheek before walking in their footsteps.

And standing there, listening to the arena cheering and screaming his name, the lights fading and the screens lifting, Harry knows that there is nothing that will replace this feeling. Euphoria, in a sense. Feeling completely at home and loved and free. He is well aware that having the love of his life there is a big part of that, because there is no better feeling than making the one you love proud of you.

There Amelie is, waiting for him at the edge of the stairs, his favourite smile on her lips, waiting to give him one last kiss before he steps on the stage, before he’s home.

“Enjoy every moment of this, baby,” Amelie smiles, taking his cheeks in her hands and kissing him sweetly. “This is all for you, you did this. I am so proud of you.” There’s a moment where they’re staring and it’s perfect. “Only Angel” is beginning to play, and the clock is ticking. “I’ll be right there singing back to you.”

“I love you,” Harry says, and there are no more words for him to express how wonderful he feels at that moment.

“All the way back to wherever you are, I love you. Always.”

One final kiss, and Harry is bounding up the steps, his in-ears pressed in place and the screams of the arena overwhelming him in the best way. His attitude changes to the stage presence that everyone loves, and he knows that this is the moment that he’ll remember forever. That this will be his, always.

Harry’s, and Amelie’s, and theirs – the fans – because there would be nothing, none of this, no opportunity to fulfil his dreams without them.

And for that, he will be forever grateful, beyond words.

Amelie rushes to walk around the stage, everyone beginning to file around her as security leads them into the arena and weaves through the audience, making sure everyone is settled in the area that Harry wants them, where he can see them. As always, Phoebe grabs Amelie’s hand, the two happily unaware of anyone recording them and the way that the tech and sound engineers are overly endeared by them. All that there is in the room is love and happiness and a whole lot of freedom that nobody could take away from them.

Amelie can’t not think about what the songs mean. Harry gave her the opportunity to really have her own interpretation of the lyrics before telling her what they’re about, the ones that she wanted to know, at least, and for a few minutes, she would sit in silence, listening to the track all over again, taking in the way he writes so elegantly about things that have cut him deep. For that, Amelie is unbelievably proud of him, because there is a lot of courage that comes along with being honest, even if Harry was still working up to being authentically himself.

Harry Styles is not about her entirely, and that’s nothing that’s ever upset her. Amelie knows there were experiences, relationships, love, heartbreak long before she was around, and there would never be a time that she would say something to make Harry think differently about what he was writing, because at the end of the day, his writing is the same as her art – therapeutic and cathartic; a way to release all of their thoughts and emotions in a healthy way, to get everything on the surface and share in the best way they know how.

Opening the show with “Only Angel” and “Woman”, there really was no need for a thoughtful interpretation. Harry including the line that Brandon said to him the day they met, that his younger sister is less than an angel and he would have to wait to find out, clearly oblivious to how their relationship came about to begin with. Harry writing in the line that was said to her as his face was between her thighs when she visited him in Jamaica while writing the album, only there for four days and he took full advantage of having her at his fingertips and as his muse. “Carolina” was always the song that made Amelie try to hide away, remembering particularly the night that they all went out and got absolutely plastered, blacked out, somehow winding up with a story of Harry nearly dragging Amelie to a toilet and taking her there, their friend bringing home a girl and telling the story of their night together the next day; and thus the song was born, a messy tale of sex and liquor and one night stands – for their friend, at least.

And everyone is dancing, singing, having the time of their lives. All of their friends and family are cheering and supporting the man she loves most in the world, and there is no greater feeling than how much she adores him and all that he’s doing.

Amelie’s arms fold in front of her chest as soon as the opening chords of “Meet Me in the Hallway” begin playing, thinking about how far they’ve come from the moments that inspired such a desperate song. That was the first song that Harry played for Amelie when showing her the album – not simply because it was first, but because he wanted to tell her why he wrote it – and there will never be a time that she listens that she doesn’t think of how much hurt their break, their arguing, their conversations caused for him barely two years ago. That’s how Harry felt, in devastating pain. There is something to be said for the way the outro to the song leads him straight to where she’s standing. Maybe Harry’s done it on purpose, maybe he hasn’t, but seeing the way his eyes light up with her standing right there says more about their love for each other than any words could.

Harry grins at Amelie, gathering his guitar and microphone and getting ready to sing the songs that are all for her, that were chosen to be sung to her, right there. He smiles as Amaya waves from where they’re standing, their Amari already falling asleep on her father’s shoulder, her headphones chunky on her head and making for a difficult way to be comfortable. His tongue wets his lips, taking a drink and playing the opening chords to “Sweet Creature” as he always does, trying his absolute best to have his emotions in tact as he stares at the love of his life crying in front of him, her eyes wet and her hand over her heart – with their niece’s hand over hers – the tiny h tattoo that she impulsively got in Amsterdam at the small of her wrist.

All of this, whether she believed it or not, was for her. All of the songs. All of the emotions. All of the writing and travelling and work, because all he wanted was to make her proud, to make her happy. And she is. Completely and utterly happy.

“Hugs, Auntie?” Amaya whispers into her ear, noticing the tears on her cheeks as the song comes to a close.

“Absolutely,” Amelie smiles, hugging her tightly to her chest and kissing her forehead and adjusting her on her waist to have her tuck her face into her neck. One of them would bring them backstage once the miniature set was over, to have them there for when everyone hurries out and they all begin to make their way to celebrate the end of tour. “Uncle Harry’s going to sing a song for Auntie and then Daddy will take you back, okay?”

Harry grins as Amelie mouths the three words that mean the absolute most, his fingers beginning to strum against the guitar that she decorated as a birthday present before tour began in March. This was their song, the song that was meant for Amelie and only Amelie. All of the lyrics are about her, about how he would do absolutely anything for her.

Harry’s eyes meet Amelie’s, eyelashes wet with tears as she sings along, singing to him and him to her. “For your eyes only, I show you my heart. For when you’re lonely and forget who you are. I’m missing half of me, when we’re apart. Now you know me, for your eyes only.”

And for those four minutes, it’s as though they are the only two in the arena.

Amelie really thinks that, maybe, she and Harry might be.

“Kiwi” has the ground shaking, and by the time Harry is at the B Stage standing in front of her, once again, the smile on her face is unmistakeable for one that only can be caused by him. Her shoulder is tapped near the end of the third go, ushering her backstage where Harry would be waiting to squeeze her and kiss her as he always does.

Around the dressing room, there is a freshly made cake and champagne and liquor and balloons celebrating the show. Harry’s clothes are folded neatly on the vanity, waiting for him to change and get to greet everyone and give his gratitude to everyone that’s supported him – his team, his crew, his band, his family and friends, and his girlfriend when they’re home – and stay a bit later to watch the stage get taken down and absorb the last moments that existed of Live on Tour.

“Hi, baby,” Amelie grins, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and laughing as his hands grab her bum and lift her onto his waist, hugging her as tightly as physically possible. “That was fucking incredible. All of it. Every single second.”

Harry kisses her neck, gently setting her feet on the ground and feverishly kissing her, his hands tied in her hair, soaking in the way she is smiling against his lips and clinging to his arms. His mind is oblivious to everyone clapping and cheering around him, giving the two a minute to themselves before whisking him away to the makeshift party. “I love you. Merci pour tout.”

“This is all you,” she says, turning her head and kissing his palm as his lips touch her hairline sweetly. “Never need to thank me for doing what a best friend should do, what you should do for someone you love.”

“Amelie Fay, you are so much more than my best friend.” Harry kisses Amelie once more, interlocking their fingers and walking towards the crowd that is cheering and congratulating and sharing hugs.

Amelie hugs Harry’s waist, slinking away and walking in the dressing room, leaving him to talk to everyone and have his moment alone. This was Harry’s moment and Amelie knows that he’ll get distracted with her around and talking nearby. Her mother and father are talking with Anne, Phoebe and Maya talking with Brandon and Autumn as they all get ready to leave sooner rather than later. Jenny and Dan and talking mindlessly on the couch, their children sleeping on their chests and enjoying the quiet that surrounds them.

“Harry always gets them right to sleep,” Amelie laughs, taking a seat next to Jenny and staring lovingly at her goddaughter as she cuddles into her mother’s chest. “Did you like the show?”

“Loved it, as always,” Jenny says, pursing her lips together and staring into the corridor, likely ensuring that Harry wasn’t walking inside before speaking again. “Thought about this earlier when I saw you two outside.”

“Thought about what?”

“You and Harry getting married,” she says, shrugging her shoulders as her husband shakes his head. “Don’t shake your head at me, Daniel, I want to officiate it.” Jenny’s attention goes back to her best friend, “Do you think you’ll even get engaged soon? Don’t have to get married, right away. Thought about how great you two are so great together, in love more than anyone could’ve guessed you would be. Age is a stupid excuse, so I don’t want to hear that.” Jenny’s eyes narrow at Amelie as she opens her mouth, knowing what her best friend would say. “Obviously, you two are living very chaotic lives, right now, but have you thought about it? Talked about it, at least?”

“From time to time, yeah,” Amelie says, running her fingers through her hair. “Don’t really think about it much, right now, with tour and the exhibition and the movie, and everything. I mean, that’s not to say that I wouldn’t say yes if Harry asked me.” Harry’s voice gets louder as he nears the dressing room. “Think that us living together and having a cat and buying a house is what works for us, right now. Don’t think Harry would want to settle down that fast at twenty-four.”

“Think you’d be surprised,” Jenny shrugs, kissing her daughter’s hair and rubbing her back soothingly. “Harry talks about having a life with you all the time.”

“Maybe it’s because having babies almost feels inevitable after you get married, you know? Neither of us want to have children when everything in our future is so uncertain.”

“Makes sense,” she says, pursing her lips and taking a sip of her water. “Don’t ever rule anything out, though, alright? This is good for you. Harry’s good for you.”

Harry smiles as he walks into the dressing room, kissing his mother on the cheek, graciously accepting her tight embrace, hugging Amelie’s mother and father, and walking straight towards his love sitting on his chair at the vanity. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby.”

Harry instinctively moves into a spot where Amelie’s arms can wrap around his shoulders, where she can hold him. His hands hold hers, kisses set all over his cheeks as he laughs, their best friends murmuring something about how obnoxious they are together. His heart is obsessively full of love, nearly breaking his ribs with how swollen it is, his chest tight in the sweetest way. Harry grabs his clean clothes, tugging on Amelie’s hand and bringing her into the quiet bathroom with him, squeaking when his hands immediately move to her waist and his mouth attaches to hers.

His kiss is heavy against her swollen mouth, feverish and lusting and slightly out of breath. Her fingers thread through his curls, absolutely obsessed with the moment that belongs to only them, only their eyes, only their mouths. All Harry wants is to immerse himself into Amelie’s skin, her touch, her kiss. His yearning for her isn’t necessarily sexual, but craving the moments that they’re alone that all of his attention is on her, and he doesn’t have to speak to anyone, simply listening to her ramble and talk about what she loves about life and art and music and always most importantly, him. His greatest wish would be to be inside her mind, to know all that her thoughts are when she isn’t telling him, to know all that he doesn’t already. Harry loves Amelie so deeply, that he wants to know absolutely everything, feel everything, love everything.

Amelie gently nudges Harry away, smiling softly at the whimper that leaves him and the way his hands hug tight around her waist. “Everyone is going to look for you, Mr Styles. Can’t have sex in here and disappear from the world.”

“Can disappear if you really want to.”

Harry swears his heart could burst when Amelie giggles, laying her head on his sweaty skin and kissing his neck. “Get changed and we can celebrate.”

His fingers start undoing the buttons on his shirt, his trousers loosening around his waist. “Are you going to watch them take the stage down with me?”

“’Course,” she says, smirking when his head rolls against his neck, frustrated with the buttons that won’t come undone. “Let me.”

His tongue licks his lips as Amelie begins unbuttoning his shirt, each button slow and drawn out, giving him a moment to talk to her. “Having that picture in my pocket made me feel really,” he pauses for a moment, thinking, “loved. Made me feel even more loved, t’night. Thank you for it.”

“Have about three years’ worth of polaroids to take on stage with you.”

“Like having one of only you, only us, though. Gave me a reminder of who I’m doing it for,” Harry says, his eyes squeezing shut as Amelie kisses him, her warm hands on his sweaty skin, her thumbs pressing into the butterfly on his abdomen to steady her on her toes. “You.”

“Good thing I do the same for you, then, isn’t it? Otherwise that’d be awkward,” Amelie giggles, handing over his shirt and sweats and smiling to herself. “Couldn’t be more freaking proud of you, baby.”

“That’s the best feeling in the world.”

“Feeling?”

“Making you proud,” he states matter-of-factly, tying the inside of the waistband and folding the suit neatly, tucking the polaroid in his pocket safely and kissing her forehead as they walk outside. “Alright. There’s a party in the kitchen. Let’s go!”

Harry and Amelie leave a bit early, saying goodbye to their family and friends and taking to sitting in the seats in the arena to watch as the last of the stage comes down. All of the bittersweet feelings that remain clinging between their interlocked hands and Amelie’s cheek resting on Harry’s shoulder. Her head is buzzing with champagne, Harry’s mind slightly foggy with exhaustion and liquor and the adrenaline. All of it is perfect, the way it should be. Harry couldn’t have asked for anything better to finish out his tour.

Harry’s eyes sting with tears as they leave, clinging to the hand in his and savouring in the kiss that is wet on his cheek as they get into their car. Harry nearly laughs thinking about how this might be their first drive together where there is absolutely no music, and there is the temptation to bring about their very first conversation about having music on in the car from the very first day they met. His mind is going in a million different directions, and as they’re going into the garage, the engine turning and the door closing behind them, the realisation settles in that they’re about to have time to be together.

“Can we watch the sunrise?” Amelie whispers tiredly, reaching for Harry’s hand as she walks around the car and follows him inside, their cat waiting at the door expectantly. “Says it should be rising in about thirty minutes.”

“Gives us time to shower, then.”

Harry squeezes her hand, kissing her forehead and walking closely behind as they walk into their bedroom and begin lazily taking their clothes and tossing them into the laundry bin, a laugh echoing around the room as she shivers under the water. Holding hands and sharing kisses, the water washes over them warmly and comfortingly, soothing Harry’s aching muscles and drawing Amelie into relaxation that is more than enjoyed.

After their shower, Harry draws the curtains open on their balcony to watch the sunrise, admiring how the light shines over Amelie as she shrugs one of his sweatshirts over her torso, disregarding any underwear or shorts or leggings, climbing into their bed and waiting for him to tug clean briefs onto his legs and settle beneath the comforter. Her hand is holding their favourite poetry book – the one they’re reading, at the minute, at least – and lays on his lap, letting the dim light of his bedside lamp cast over the vanilla pages and lifting her neck slightly to let him bring all of her damp hair onto his thighs, his fingers gently scratching her scalp and carding through the curls. Her eyes fall over the words written in the scattered form, always reading silently to herself – although she always reads quietly aloud, which he loves – before reading to him.

Amelie’s voice is almost shy when she speaks, making Harry immediately turn away from the rising sun to meet her hooded eyes. “Harry?”

“Hm.”

“Do you think–” Amelie hesitates for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts and emotions before speaking aloud. They’ve never really had this conversation before, surely not at nearly six in the morning. Usually it would be the casual, I want to be with you forever or This is it, you and me, that would settle the lingering question that seemingly everyone but them would ask. “Have you thought about us getting married, about proposing? Maybe a future, with me, I guess.”

“All the time,” Harry says, his soft movements making her eyes fall shut every so often. “Have you thought about it?”

“From time to time, yeah. Like what we have going,” she says, staring at the man she loves dearly, a soft smile on his features as she licks her lips. There’s something in Harry’s demeanour that changes, as though her words are saying that she wouldn’t marry him, which is far from the truth. “But that title doesn’t really matter to me, at the end of the day. I want you, more than anything. As my boyfriend, my husband, my best friend, you name it. Could ask me to marry you and I’d say yes. All that matters to me is that we’re together.”

Harry thinks that their best friend might’ve said something about the engagement ring sitting in his duffle bag with the polaroid from his suit, and his heart falls to his stomach. He didn’t want to ask this way, sleepy and fatigued, the sun rising, their bodies utterly exhausted from the rush of the last two days.

“Not saying I am,” Harry laughs, kissing her hairline as she lays the poetry book on her chest and stares at him. “But, if I asked you to marry me, let’s say today, would you say yes?”

“Doesn’t matter if it was yesterday, today, tomorrow, or a year from now,” Amelie whispers, grabbing his wrist and bringing his hand to her mouth, kissing his palm as he caresses her cheek, “I’ll say yes whenever, wherever.”

“Mean that?”

“De tout mon coeur.” Amelie says, with my whole heart, and Harry knows that there is nothing that could be more perfect.

“Can we hold off on the babies, though? Like to enjoy you as m’wife for a bit.”

“How does four years sound? Think we can get married by then? Have a nice house in London and Malibu. Living lavishly.”

“Is that what you want, angel? Lavish?”

“Truthfully,” Amelie breathes, turning her cheek on his thigh to watch the sun rise over their balcony and through their window, Harry’s fingertips trailing up her neck and through her hair, “none of that matters to me as long as we’re together. As cliché as that all sounds, and I absolutely hate a cliché. Mama always said that nothing really matters if there isn’t love in it. Don’t think anything would be what I want if I didn’t love you and you didn’t love me.”

“Good thing that I’m absolutely in love with you,” Harry smiles, gently taking the book from her hands and kissing her cheek and her jaw. “Think the Universe made you for me to love, you know that? All along, the stars were aligning for us to have something special.”

“Think that we’ll make it through anything? Not like the relationships that have something bad happen and they’re irreparable.” Harry leans over to shut the light, the dimness in the room casting over her, reminding her of how tired she really is. “Can’t see us being that way.”

“Nothing could be irreparable with us. Not you and me, Ames.” His accent is thicker, now. He’s exhausted, his body and mind are craving sleep. But this is a conversation that he’s willing to stay awake for, that he would deny sleep for hours if that’s what she wanted. “Nothing could make me not love you.”

Amelie adjusts her body slightly, giving Harry space to lay flat on their mattress, his head sinking into his pillow. His hands nudge at her waist, sighing deeply when she lays her weight completely on him – well, nearly half of her body is slung over him – his arms around her waist. Harry liked to sleep like this sometimes, especially when they’re feeling especially close and intimate. Amelie doesn’t mind it. It makes her feel loved.

“Guess we should tell everyone to be expecting a ring soon, then,” Amelie laughs, kissing Harry’s neck and breathing in deeply as her eyes fall shut. “I’m proud of you. I love you.”

“Love you more.”

Amelie kisses Harry’s lips sweetly, sinking into his embrace and falling asleep, her breathing evening out against his skin and her lips parting on his chest. And Harry stays silent for a few minutes, kissing her hairline, soaking in the tenderness that surrounds him, thinking of the tiny diamond ring sitting in their wardrobe.

FOUR WEEKS LATER

Harry is sitting at the edge of the bed, fingertips picking at his trousers, his palms sweating against the quilted comforter. Amelie is in the bathroom, the door shut quietly behind her – which is awkward in itself because they’ve not shut the bathroom door since they moved in together two and half years ago – and there is the sound of the running sink echoing around the bedroom. Tigger is purring against Harry’s leg, and Harry wants to tell him to stop, to leave the room and give them a moment, but he knows that there is a sense of comfort in all of three of them being together in such a defining moment, a moment where they are nervous for what’s to come and what to make of their situation, a moment that could certainly change their relationship forever.

Harry’s eyes flick to where his girlfriend is standing in the bathroom doorway, moving his hand away from their cat’s head and holding his knees. He can see the tears in her eyes, the wobbling of her chin, the shakiness in her hands. Her anxiety is written in the furrowed brows and lines creasing her forehead, the redness lining her mouth as her teeth bite into her lips. His arms open, waiting for her to walk forward and sit with him, grateful that she decides to straddle his waist and wrap her arms around his shoulders rather than sit far away. His hands rub her back, kissing her neck lightly and waiting until she’s ready to speak.

“This isn’t what we wanted,” Amelie whispers into his shoulder, tears wetting her cheeks, her fingertips gripping his sweater as if he is going to disappear from beneath her. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” Harry soothes, trying to mask the fear in his voice, “don’t apologise, baby. Not all your fault, you know. Certainly, had my part in it.” His throat goes dry for a minute. “All your decision what you want to do, once that timer goes.”

Amelie can feel Harry shake his head against her neck as she speaks, his fingertips tracing along her spine beneath her oversized shirt. “Harry, the album–”

“Album can wait. Tour can wait. All of it can wait. Can’t do that without me, can they?” Harry wants to lighten the anxiety lingering in their chests, but he very well knows that that won’t happen until that timer sounds and the answer to their question is given.

“Don’t want you to resent me for ruining your life.”

Harry immediately pulls away to face her, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion at how she could ever think such a thing. “Amelie Fay, do you really think I would resent you? And who said anything about ruining my life? Do you really think that having a family with you would ruin my life? How many times have I told you that I want forever with you?”

“Don’t know.”

“Didn’t you say to me, ‘all that matters is that we’re together’? Didn’t you say that?” Harry pauses for a moment, waiting for Amelie to silently nod to answer his question. “Have to believe that we’ll be alright, as long as we’re together.”

Amelie hides her face in Harry’s neck once more, ignoring the ringing timer going in the bathroom. “This anxiety is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”

“Come with me,” Harry says, squeezing her waist and kissing her cheek, “and we’ll do this together.”

Amelie nods into his chest, standing and taking Harry’s hand in hers, walking nervously into the bathroom and taking a second to turn the timer off and let Harry see the results first. He always has a steady hand, even if he’s feeling anxious himself. His stability grounded her in more ways than one, and it was something that made her feel as though, if this were to be real, maybe they would be alright.

“Can you look first?”

Harry nods, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles, squeezing her fingers as he turns the test over on the counter, his peripheral vision catching Amelie turn away. Harry gulps, taking in the blinking Pregnant + sign on the digital screen. His voice caught in his throat, unable to speak through his parted lips, his mouth going dry. Amelie was right, this isn’t what they wanted, what they planned. Harry wants a family with Amelie – of course he does – but that certainly wasn’t the intention until after they were married. Hell, Harry hadn’t even proposed yet. All of his thoughts are swimming in his brain, almost going unnoticed when her hand slips out of his and takes the test from the counter, staring at the words written on the screen and taking a minute to really take in all that this meant.

“I need you to not hate me for what I want.” Amelie sucks in a deep breath, tears stinging her eyes, a sob wracking through her body as Harry brings her into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders and touching his lips to her hair, desperately trying to soothe her.

“Could never hate you for that,” Harry says reassuringly, kissing her forehead and gently cupping her cheeks, bringing her to face him. “I’m with you, always.”

Amelie gulps, taking the test in her hands and staring at the way the bolded word is so intimidating to her anxiety, to the pressure that is felt on her chest as if there is a brick weighing on her lungs. Maybe this is another way to test her strength, to test how much she wants to be a better person, because this would be the perfect opportunity to slip into an anxious state, a depressive episode. Her mind is begging for it, for the comfort of being numb.

Harry nudges her chin, making her meet his eyes and all of the thoughts are subsided by ones that make her want to cry into his arms and say that she loves him. “Don’t get swallowed into it. Can shake these feelings, but we have to do it together, Ames. Look at me.” He knows her better than anyone does. He knows her better than anyone ever will. “I’m here, angel. I’m right here.”

Amelie nods, sucking in a breath through parted lips, leaning her forehead against his chest and blinking away the remaining tears in her eyes. Harry’s fingers brush through her hair as they always do, comforting her in the ways that he’s learnt over the three years they’ve been together. “Everything we do is together, right?”

“Always.”

And silently, Harry and Amelie turn to stare at the tiny word that is going to change their lives forever.

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lilaacstars · 3 years ago

Text

i will go to you like the first snow.

iii. i liked it so much,

watching over you,

my heart fluttering.

ao3.

They fell into a routine rather easily, and while it was an understatement after the reveal that they wanted to spend most of their time together, they didn’t know how much time they would actually be around each other.

With university, jobs and other responsibilities, their schedules were usually packed, and yet they always found time to spend with one another.

Marinette had stayed that first night, and then one night became two, two became three and so on. Now she is practically the owner of the left side of his hotel bed.

She is there more than she is at her own house. It is closer to her university, and it’s not so far from her part time job, it’s only convenient, and of course, Adrien and her get time together, alone.

Not that she doesn’t enjoy her parents’ presence, but sometimes it is just nice to lie on bed and cuddle, without anyone interrupting. Like they’re doing right now.

Adrien is hugging her, his head resting on her stomach as they lie on bed watching a documentary Marinette needs to write an essay on for one of her classes.

She is writing her notes on paper with her free hand, since she’s too busy running her fingers through his blonde locks to use her laptop. It would be faster, she wouldn’t need to pause or rewind if she did it that way, but she doesn’t want to stop touching him.

“How long until it’s done?” Adrien whispers, lips pressed against her thin blouse, making her vibrate.

She gulps, both because of the surprise and the sweet sensation of having him so close to her skin.

“Half an hour I think,” She answers and takes the remote to check again, “Yes, twenty eight minutes to be exact. Why? Are you that bored?”

“I’ve already told you, I don’t get bored when I’m with you,” Adrien lifts his face and gives her a sleepy smile, “I just had an idea.”

“What kind of idea? I don’t know if I should trust every rampage that crosses your brain,” She giggles.

He laughs with her and nuzzles against her stomach.

The tension inside her body grows, but it's not the unpleasant kind.

“I just want to go around the block, or go to the park. I feel trapped being here all the time.”

Marinette looks down. The missing smile on his face says it all.

“I can pause it,” Marinette does as she says, “It’s due on Friday so I still have time.” “No, no, finish it. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” “You don’t interrupt. I was getting bored anyway.”

The truth is that she is extremely invested in the documentary but she will have many opportunities to watch whatever she wants in the future and the emotions will be the same, unlike being with Adrien. The butterflies, the tension, the fresh feelings blooming underneath her skin… that will soon disappear.

She has to make the most out of the time she has, take every chance she gets to have a wonderful moment with him, to fill her mind and his heart with beautiful experiences that will wrap their hearts and make their bond stronger.

“Is it too late to go for ice cream?” She asks, closing the notebook and placing it in the nightstand with the rest of her supplies.

“I don’t think so. We can find a mini market somewhere close.”

“When have you ever gone to a mini market?” She laughs.

“I don’t have to go to one to know they exist, don’t patronize me, my lady.”

“I would never,” She laughs and pushes him aside, to stand out of bed.

Five minutes later, they are going out of the hotel, holding hands as they walk through the lines of rose buds.

The next morning, Marinette wakes up in her room. The bed feels cold and she feels restless.

Her parents had begged for her to come home. As much as they like Adrien, they seem worried about the quick change and development in their relationship, especially when Marinette assures them they’re just friends.

She rubs under her eyes and jumps down to go take a shower. Today is one of those days in which she needs to go to the coffeeshop first thing in the morning.

To increase her mood, Marinette takes her phone and scrolls through her music, finding the folder with playlists that Adrien has made for her.

He started by making her one with piano pieces that she could use as inspiration or background music while she is doing projects, and then escalated to make playlists with different moods for every occasion she could imagine.

She chooses a happy one and sings and dances around with the cheery popish sounds in the background, almost falling in the shower once and then on her way out. The lyrics are one of her favourite parts of the playlists he has made.

Because while songs do serve a purpose with their melodies and fresh sounds, Adrien has put a thousand romantic songs in each playlist he’s made.

Very deep inside she hopes this is not only because he likes these songs, but a way that Adrien is using to tell her how he feels about her.

Marinette stops and smacks her cheeks in front of her mirror.

“Marinette,” Tikki calls her name and pops beside her, “Be more gentle to yourself.” “I’m sorry,” She says, taking a brush of her vanity to forget about her selfish thoughts.

She brushes her hair softly, looking at her reflection as she hears the voice of the singer scream how in love she is.

Suddenly, she is not happy and bubbly anymore, all the pain has decanted and now she can actually feel it, the fake happiness doesn’t distract her anymore.

A tear rolls down her cheek against her will.

“Why won’t you tell him?” Tikki asks.

“You know why,” Marinette says in a low voice.

“It would be easier for you to just tell him the truth.” “I don’t want it to ruin what we have. I want to remember these moments by what they are-

“But you won’t.”

Marinette drops the brush against her vanity and stands up. Her steps are heavy against the floor and she walks away, to the other side of the room.

“Marinette,” Tikki comes quickly, not giving her a second to herself.

“I need to go to work,” She stands up to pick up her hair drier.

“This is hard for me too,” She whipsers, following her, “But I know, and it gives me time to prepare, I know goodbye is coming.”

“I know him,” She turns around and frowns at her kwami, “He’s already going through the trauma associated with his father, I won’t give him another thing to sulk about… not yet at least.”

“You have a deadline, Marinette. Do you think he’ll get over this sadness before that? I don’t think so.”

No he wouldn’t. It is something that will always sit heavy on his heart.

“It's recent, and I’m making him happy. I won’t let my presence be a timebomb.”

“You’ll explode nonetheless.”

#ml fic #adrienette #miraculous ladybug

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tangledstarlight · 4 years ago

Photo

julie’s ready for a year away from home, studying and trying to refind the magic in music. luke’s about to start on a summer tour around europe opening for a band. they meet one night, sparks fly and emotions run hight. now they’ve just got to try and see if they can maintain a long distance friendship.

DAYS GO BY AND SEASONS CHANGE (LETS TRY AGAIN NEXT WINTER)

trigger warnings!! alcohol and swearing and mentions of death (julies mum)

also on ao3 –– [ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | extras 1 & 2 ]

summer

Summer had always been Julie’s favourite time of year.

Well at least it had been. Back when summer's meant spending time with Flynn and Carrie, making up dance routines and climbing trees and begging Victoria to take her to get ice cream from the shop near the pier.

Back before her mom got sick and hospital visits took over from dance routines and a funeral replaced visits to an ice cream shop.

It took her a long time to start liking summers again. To stop associating warm nights with hospital a/c and trips to the beach with a distraction technique while her mom got chemo. She can appreciate summers again now. It had just taken a long time.

But there’s still moments when it hits her. When she remembers all the long hours spent in hard hospital chairs and the terrible staticy tv’s in waiting rooms and the half finished songs tucked away in the back of her old favourite notebook.

(That she’s not touched in years but still brings along with her, just in case. In case of what, Julie doesn’t know, but it’s not stopped her from packing it on every trip and extended visit somewhere new. Just in case she wants to look at them. Just in case inspiration strikes. Just in case she suddenly decides she’s ready to finally finish the songs they started together. Just in case.)

Her favourite moments in summer had been when her mom would pack up their car, with fold up chairs and blankets and a cooler full of snacks, and drive them out of the city until all the bright lights faded away and the sounds of cars grew distant and they could see the sky.

Nothing but the sky and the moon and the stars.

They’d done it every year since Julie could remember, always at the end of summer before school started again, always just the two of them. It was their thing. To go watch the stars and eat all the sugary foods they could. Julie had learnt the stars like that, working her way through bags of gummy worms and sugar laces while her mom told her stories and made the world feel magical.

It’s been a long time since Julie had been out of the city and looked up at the stars with her mom. They’d not been able to make it that last year, and her dad offering to take her hadn't been the same. So it had been a long time since Julie had seen the stars so clear in the sky and remembered why she’d loved it all those years ago. Other than getting the chance to spend time with her mom, the stars made her feel like anything was possible.

There’s something about looking up at a night sky, full of hundreds of thousands of little pinpricks of light that fills you with wonderment and awe. It reminds you that in the grand scheme of things, they’re all pretty small. And that people throughout all of history have looked up at the same sky and seen the same stars and come up with their own stories for them all.

“I hate this, how are you so good at finding the constellations?” Flynn’s complaining brought Julie back down from her wondering and winding thoughts. Back to Cairngorms National Park and the crappy chairs they’d borrowed from the hostel they were staying in and the ‘who can name and find the most constellations’ game that Carrie had started.

“It’s a skill,” Carrie shrugged, trying to toss her hair over her shoulder as she did, but she didn’t want to take her hands out from under the blanket, it was a lot of shoulders jumping up and down and head swinging wildly in a circle. A far cry from the usual smooth movement it normally was.

Julie bit down on her lip to not laugh, Flynn didn’t have the same courtesy and outright cackled, but took sympathy all the same and helped move the stray locks away from Carrie’s face.

“Told you you should have bought gloves.” As if to prove her point Flynn wiggles her gloved fingers in her face and Carrie just frowns, pretends to lean forward to bite them.

“It’s summer. It’s meant to be warm,” she grumbles, and Julie secretly agrees. The three of them aren’t used to having to remember to take a jacket out with them in the middle of summer. But England always seems to run a little cold and the Scottish Highlands don't seem to know what the word ‘summer’ or 'warm' even means.

Especially not at 3 in the morning, but that’s more on them then the country.

Julie pulls her jacket a little tighter to her body as a breeze blows through their little clearing – the collar still smells faintly of Luke’s aftershave and mint, like it’s trying to cling to the last remnants of it’s rightful owner for her sake and it’s own, so she doesn’t forget who she wants to return it too one day – and tilts her head back to look at the stars. She can still hear Carrie and Flynn talking, bickering about gloves and a very clear, “You’re cheating! You’re looking them up on your phone!” from Flynn that makes her smile.

She’s twenty and with her two best friends about to start on an adventure through a mostly unknown country and she’s looking up at the same stars she’d once looked at with her mom, but everything else is different enough that it doesn’t hurt like she thought it would.

Sure she’s still a little sad, still wishes it was her mom sitting next to her, coming up with a wild story or an on-the-spot song about Cassiopeia. But she takes in a breath of air and feels her phone vibrate with a text notification where it’s tucked under her leg and smiles.

She’s always loved summer and despite all the bad memories she’s gained of the season over the last few years, she’s determined to enjoy this one.

“Tell me about the music thing.”

Julie blows out a breath at the question, her gaze fixed on the ocean in front of her as the waves crash against the shore, the sun just starting it’s rise into the world on the horizon. It’s 4:40am and the world is silent save for the waves and Luke on the other end of her phone. They’d picked this time because for him the sun was making its final push into the world and for her it was just starting. The closet they could get to watching it rise together with their hour time difference.

It did also mean Luke had been up for a whole hour longer than her, but he didn’t seem to mind. Julie was just happy she’d managed to find coffee in the small hotel’s kitchen before she’d left.

“How do you know there’s a music ‘thing’?” She asks and she knows she was avoiding it, talking about it, thinking about it, but Julie liked that Luke didn’t treat her any differently. That he didn’t know about how she’d once dreamt only of playing music and how now it was like a festering wound in her heart every time she looks at it.

“So I wasn’t like, preying or anything, but Bobby mentioned how you and Carrie and Flynn used to perform together all the time. But that you stopped. After your mom,” he doesn’t say the word, that one little word that still makes her feel sick. But it still hangs in the air between them.

Julie’s pretty sure if she said she didn’t want to talk about it then Luke would let the subject drop. That he’d talk to her about the sea and the sun and the tour and what weird information Reggie had learnt about wherever they were today. And a part of her wanted to do that. To avoid the conversation and having to try to explain all her messed up feelings to someone else. She had no reason to think Luke would understand anymore then her family had, and yet she found herself letting out a sigh and talking.

“My mom she– she introduced me to music, y’know? She used to be in this punk rock band, toured around the US, and made this amazing music that made you feel stuff. And then, even after she wasn’t in a band anymore and had met my dad and had me, music was still this like– it was this huge part of her life. Of my life,” Julie blinks back tears as she talks, her eyes still fixed on the horizon as if it will help. “She taught me to play piano. A little guitar too, but I’ve never been that good at it. But the piano, I fell in love with it. Everything about it. It used to be the one thing in the world that I knew would cheer me up. When I think about my childhood there’s always music in it somewhere. Playing in the background or mom making it or me trying to help her write it. She loved music, and it– it was more than that because it was like music loved her too, y’know?”

Julie pauses, to breathe, to collect her thoughts, to make sure she hasn’t scared Luke off with her rambling. But she can still hear him breathing on the other end of the line and the little ‘yeah’ he breathes out at her rhetorical question.

“She was there for every show I did, for every performance and recital, every time I had too many emotions and needed help to write them down. We did other stuff together too, but music was this thing that we did together that– that made anything feel possible. Is that stupid? That making music with my mom made the world feel magical?” She doesn’t really expect him to answer, it’s a weird question after all. But Luke has a way of surprising her every time.

“It’s not stupid. You spent so much time making something amazing with someone you love more than anything. I can’t really think of anything more magical than that.”

It knocks the breath out of her, the way he seems to get it after such a short time when even her dad still doesn’t really get it. Julie takes in a stuttering breath, unable to stop the tears that pool in her eyes this time with excessive blinking. So she lets them fall.

“Whenever I used to play or sing it always felt like I was doing what I was supposed to do. Like, sitting behind a piano was where I was meant to be, y’know? It was just one of those things I was so fucking sure about. Like that my dad would make pancakes on Saturdays and Sharpey wasn’t the villain of High School Musical and my tia would never learn to knock before coming in and that my mom would always be there. But then she–– she died. And it was like– fuck, I don’t even know. It was like nothing in life made sense anymore anyway, so why would music.” Julie bites her lip, blows out a shaky breath and wipes at her cheeks with her sleeve.

“I stopped playing for a– a long time, afterwards. I just...I couldn’t, y’know? And I know it worried everyone, me not being able to play. So I um I made myself sit at the piano and play something, anything really. Just to prove that I could. That I can.”

“So you made yourself play for everyone else and then last year you finally admitted that it wasn’t the same anymore?” Luke puts it so simply it almost makes her want to laugh.

“Pretty much, yeah,” she says, blowing out a breath. “It’s like, I don’t know how to play music the way I used to without my mom. Everything about music to me is so connected to her that when I play or sing it’s like something is missing and I don’t know how to fill it.”

“Maybe you don’t fill it then.”

“What?” Julie blinks, a small furrow between her brows as she tries to work out what he means.

“Music and your mom, they’re always gonna be linked together for you. There’s no way to undo that, even if you wanted to. And, honestly Julie, it sounds like you got back into music before you were ever ready to and not for yourself. Which, I– I mean, I get it. Everyone who cared about you was worried and you didn't want them to be. So you made yourself play again. But music shouldn't be something your force, it should just be, y'know, easy. And I’ve seen the way you used to play and– fuck, it’s–” Luke blows out a breath as he seems to struggle to find any words and Julie feels her frown deepen, just a little.

“You said making music with your mom felt like magic and that’s what it looked like too. That’s not something you can rush back into. It’s not a gap you can just fill in. It’s something you’ve got to look at and accept and use. When you’re ready to.”

It’s the last thing she expected him to say. Because honestly Julie has never thought about it that way, about how it wasn’t something to fill in or plaster over. That it was just a part of her that she’d have to live with, sand down the edges and put up hazard tape but maybe make into something new. One day.

A bit like how the grief she still feels about her mom is always with her, even though it’s easier to look at now, easier to think about. She’s learnt to live with it. No one’s ever said she should do the same thing with music.

“No one’s ever put it like that before.” No one else had ever seemed to understand that music for her felt a lot like magic either. Part of her knew it should scare her how much Luke seemed to understand her after so little time, but another part of her, a bigger part of her, was just relieved that someone got it. That she didn’t need to explain it again or pretend it was fine.

“Yeah well, music and pain is something I get. Not to the same extent but, yeah. I get it,” his voice trails off and Julie wonders what he’s thinking about. What memories his words have conjured early in the morning. She knows he’s got problems with his parents, that things are strained, she wonders if there’s story there he'll share with her one day.

The sun is peeking over the horizon now, a small semi-circle of orange light that makes her squint as she looks out, but it’s beautiful, watching the sun rise over the sea.

“When have you ever seen me play?” Julie blurts out, suddenly recalling Luke’s earlier words that had made her frown.

“Oh uh–” the question seems to catch Luke off guard and he’s stuttering, a bit like the first time they’d met in the cafe when he’d ruined her jacket. Julie can practically see him, sitting on his bench overlooking the tourist traps of France, hand rubbing at the back of his neck as his cheeks slowly turned pink. “So I wasn’t like, internet stalking you or anything. But, well when Bobby mentioned that you used to perform and I uh looked some of them up? Carrie has a very organised facebook and youtube channel. There’s playlists.”

And this time Julie does laugh, loud and bright in the still morning because he’d see the jumpy and blurry iphone videos of them messing around for their parents and school and still thought it was magical when she played. If he hadn’t sounded so serious when he said it, Julie would think he was just trying to be nice.

“God those videos were terrible. We got Flynn’s mom to help us make costumes for some of them, I definitely remember us being convinced that pillowcases and duct tape would make the most killer look,” she shakes her head at the memory and it feels lighter, easier than it would have done an hour ago.

“You looked very cute in your pillowcase dress and duct tape headband, I’m honestly surprised it never took off. You could have been a trend setter,” Luke says and she can practically hear him holding back a laugh.

“Alright Mr I-think-jean-chains-are-cool, settle down.”

“Hey! You said my chain was very cool,” he whines, she can practically see his lower lip protruding in a pout.

“I was also very drunk at the time, I was probably just trying to be nice.”

“You know what? As soon as the sun is fully up for you I am so hanging up the phone dramatically,” Luke mutters and it makes her laugh again. How he’d made her go from spilling her emotional guts up to crying to laughing all within a few minutes she’ll never know.

But she wants to thank him for it anyway, for understanding and helping and calling her magical. She’s not quite sure how to fit that into a single thank you though.

“Hey Luke?” She says it softly, almost as if she’s scared of frightening him away.

“Yeah?” His voice is just as soft and it makes her smile.

“Thanks for watching the sunrise with me.”

“Anytime.”

When they had first planned out their summer road trip starting in Scotland with a side trip to Belfast and ending in London they’d imagined something a lot more glamorous. They’d planned out all the places they wanted to see and visit that weren’t on the usual tourist route, and Flynn had even bought a paper map so they could mark places off as they went. They’d definitely anticipated more sunnier days then they’d gotten. And the surprise detour into a rural Welsh village was still being argued over about whose fault it was.

(Julie firmly blamed Flynn, she was the one giving directions. Flynn blamed Carrie because she was the one driving. And Carrie blamed Julie because she was sitting in the back having a nap. Either way they’d ended up stuck in a field after following a dirt road and only got back on track when a farmer had laughed at them for what felt like an hour.)

But this was their last weekend before they went back to their respective schools and they were determined to make it the most memorable yet. Full of drinks and laughter and tourist photos and over priced food.

Carrie had spent hours on instagram, sitting cross legged on the weird little half sofa in their hotel room, looking through all the bars and clubs people frequented with the best drink prices and photo opportunities. Flynn and Julie had spent the same amount of time on instagram looking for the cutest places to eat and cheapest spots for shopping.

They’d all reconvened on the bed in their shared hotel room with their lists of places and made a plan. They had three days and were determined to do all the touristy things they could. They’d saved it all for London because that had made the most sense when they’d first made their plan. What was a trip to the UK without a photo of the London Eye or the weird clock thing?

“...and then we went to Camden Market which was really cool. There was this stall with these really cool photos that my dad would love, now I’ve just got to work out how I’m gonna keep them safe until I go home. And oh my god! This other stall had all these old tapes and records of some real old school classic bands, you’ve got to check it out when you’re back.” Julie glanced down at her phone where she’d propped it up against the door while she sat in front of the floor length mirror in the hotel, makeup and hair products scattered around her.

She can see half of Luke’s face and half of Reggie’s watching her from the screen, both of them listening to her ramble about her day like they care what she has to say. Like they’re truly interested in the prints she bought for her dad and the pins she’d found for Victoria.

“Ask her if it’s–” she can hear someone start on their end of the call, the voice growing muffled as Luke’s eyes look somewhere over the top of his phone. She thinks it’s Alex talking, but she can’t be sure.

“Alex asked if that’s the place with the people painted gold and the ones who juggled in the streets?” Luke relays the question, an eyebrow raised as he looks at her. And Julie knows, logically, that he’s not really looking at her, because there’s a screen and a few hundred miles between them, but it still feels like he’s staring right into her soul. Even with the one and half eyes that the screen lets her see.

“Um,” she swallows, bites the end of her eyeshadow brush as she looks away and tries to think, glad for the slightly staticy quality of their facetime call. “No, that’s the other place. Um – hang on, Flynn! What’s the name of the other place we went?”

Flynn’s head appears around the doorframe of the bathroom, hair already done, eyeshadow standing out against her skin – the blues and greens of her eyeshadow blending together so well it makes Julie want to ask her to do hers too – and a mascara wand in hand. She tilts her head to the side, lips pursed as she thinks about it before leaning over Julie’s head and pointing at her phone.

“He’s thinking about Covent Garden. It’s got that design your own ice cream place and looks way cleaner.” They both watch as someone's hand descends over the camera and someone shouts and the phone shakes and then Alex’s face is filling the screen, the snapback on his head doing nothing to stop his hair from falling into his eyes.

“They had a really cool cupcake store, did you go there?” Someone’s hand appears in the frame for a second, and they can hear muttering in the background but Alex just shifts slightly to the left of wherever he’s sat, completely ignoring who she can only assume is Luke and Reggie complaining.

“Mhm,” Julie nods, not even bothering to hide her grin at the annoyed ‘Alex’ she can hear one of them make in the background.

“Did you try the triple chocolate one?” Flynn asks, sitting herself down next to Julie on the floor and wordlessly plucking the brush from her hands and picking up the palette she had been using from the ground. She swears, it's like Flynn can read her mind sometimes.

“Yes! It was so good,” Bobby pushes himself into view, chin resting to Alex’s shoulder like he’s draped himself over the drummer's neck like a scarf. From the corner of her eye Julie watches as Alex tries to shrug him off only for Bobby to somehow wrap his arms around his neck, holding on tighter.

“Close your eyes,” Flynn says, brush poised in the air to work and Julie quickly does as instructed.

“I preferred the coconut lime one,” Julie comments and she can hear someone let out a gasp on the phone.

“Over chocolate? Oh man, I didn’t know you had such a bad taste in cakes Julie.”

She bites her lip to stop herself from laughing at Lukes words – who has clearly forced his way back into view of the phone because his voice is close and unmuffled and teasing.

“What are you going to do? Hand up the phone dramatically?” She wishes she could open her eyes, to see his face, see if he remembers saying that. But she doesn’t have to open them to know he remembers when she can hear him laughing, can hear the smile in his voice.

“I would if Alex would give me my phone back.”

“Don’t you dare hang up I want everyone’s opinions on which dress I should wear,” Carrie calls from the bathroom and Julie peeks open one eye to see her poke her head around the doorway to glare at them and the phone before vanishing again.

“Ooo fashion show! Lets go girls!”

Flynn stops tapping at her eyelid and Julie opens her other eye to look at her quickly before glancing down at her phone where half of Reggie’s face takes up the screen, the other three boys fighting in the background.

“Did someone say fashion show?” A new voice joins the chaos on the other end of the phone and Julie frowns a little until Willie’s face joins Reggie's, blocking out the other three and grinning at them. “Woah your eyeshadow looks wicked Julie!”

“All credit for that goes to Flynn,” she says, waving her hands at Flynn as she finally gets the chance to look in the mirror, taking in the magic Flynn has worked on her eyes. It’s all dark purples and hints of silver and specks of glitter and Julie honestly has no idea how she’s done it. She turns her head to give the other girl a wide smile, “Fuck, this is so pretty Flynn!”

“If my music career doesn’t take off I’m going to make a killer makeup artist,” she tosses her braids over one shoulder, eyes glancing up a little as she grins.

“Always good to have a back up career,” Bobby’s face appears between Reggie’s and Willie’s, his arms wrapping around their shoulders. “Mine is landscape gardening.”

There’s a beat of silence on both sides of the phone, even Luke and Alex in the background seem to have gone quiet at their friends' words. Julie opens her mouth, though she’s not sure what she’s going to say, and she can see a similar thing happening to Willie while Bobby is just smiling, either unaware at the confusion he’s caused or knows, and is just extremely pleased with himself.

They’re all saved from breaking the weird silence by Carrie coming out the bathroom, burgundy slip dress swishing above her knees and blonde hair curled down her back, she puts a hand on her hip and rolls her eyes at the phone.

“Robert. You still cut your chin every time you shave, shut up about being a landscape gardener,” after rolling her eyes again, Carrie straightens up a little, brushing down her dress and posing so they can all see, “Now, this is option one!”

Eventually, after Carrie has gone through three dresses – picking the first option, of course – and Flynn has shown off her dark blue halter neck jumpsuit and Julie has twirled in her black lace skater dress, they’ve all done a shot together in solidarity and reapplied lipstick and they’re getting ready to leave. Julie is cradling her phone in front of her face and it’s just Luke on the other end now.

“You look really nice, by the way. Beautiful in fact.” He rubs at the back of his neck, an almost shy smile on his lips as he looks at her.

She gives him a small smile in return, just a twitch of her lips really, even though her stomach feels like it’s exploded in butterflies. Julie knows she doesn’t need someone else's approval on how she looks, but hearing Luke call her beautiful doesn’t exactly hurt.

“Thanks,” she bites her lip, wanting to say something more, but not knowing what. Carrie calls her name from the hotel door, nodding her head to where Flynn is already waiting in the hallway. “I gotta go. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, yeah. Have a good night. Let me know when you get back okay, okay?” He raises and eyebrow at her and Julie can’t help but let out a small laugh.

“I will.”

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #julie molina #luke patterson #juke #carrie wilson #flynn #alex mercer #reggie peters #willie #trevor wilson #jatp fic #i never know what to tag these thing fuck dfjsk #honestly this is mostly just an emotional rollarcoaster #it was down it was down and then it went up #kinda wanna do a girls road trip fic now tho #also. the top 3 ig posts should go at the start #but it didn't look right on tumblr #*

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lt2archive · 4 years ago

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The former One Direction star and solo artist reveals his plans to manage woman rock bands, and tackles those pesky One Direction rumours

24 November 2020 • 4:05pm

“I’ve just watched loads of s___ TV,” he says after a long pause. “The Undoing is decent, isn’t it?”

He's getting ready to rehearse an exciting one-off gig that will be live-streamed from a secret London location on December 12, announced today exclusively via the Telegraph. The proceeds of the night will be split across four charities: The Stagehand Covid-19 Crew Relief Fund and Crew Nation, Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice and Marcus Rashford’s charity FareShare, to help end child poverty. Tomlinson will also be donating money to his own touring crew, many of which have been out of work since March. “I've been incredibly worried about them and felt incredibly powerless, so wanted to give something back.”

The gig also means a great deal to Tomlinson on a personal level. His first ever tour as a solo artist, to promote his debut solo album WALLS, was cut short back in March after just two concerts in Spain and Mexico. It was an album he’d spent five years working on: a guitar-led project that ruptured with the preppy pop anthems of One Direction, inspired instead by Tomlinson’s love for Britpop.

Was he left reeling, I ask, unable to perform at such a crucial moment?

Sure, I say, but the last year can’t have been easy. Didn’t he feel like his purpose had popped?

In return, Tomlinson is good to them. Last month he even promised some new music, saying that he’d written four songs in four days. Does this mean that a second album is on the way?

It must be draining, I say, the weight of expectation in both the media and across his fanbase, to be a spokesperson for grief and hardship. To have tragedy prelude everything he does and says.

“Honestly, it’s part of being from Doncaster as well, I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. That’s the last thing I want.”

Too many incredible memories to mention but not a day goes by that I don't think about how amazing it was. @NiallOfficial @Harry_Styles @LiamPayne @zaynmalik . So proud of you all individually.

Has he spoken to Frusicante?

“I f______ wish,” snorts Tomlinson.

Surely someone as well-known as Tomlinson could easily get in touch?

“No, honestly, I think he’s too cool for that. He’s not into that kind of thing.”

So: might 2021 be the year of resurrection?

Tickets for Louis Tomlinson Live In London are on sale tomorrow from 4pm

#lt live from london #nov. 24 2020 #press #the telegraph #nov 2020

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dailyexo · 5 years ago

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[INTERVIEW] Baekhyun, Kai - 191217 Vice: “SuperM are the Avengers of K-pop”

"It’s a November evening at New York’s Madison Square Garden. Even though the house lights are still on, the excitement is palpable in the voices of twenty thousand fans singing along to every background track as though it were the main attraction. The reason for that enthusiasm is currently underneath the stage: in a few moments, K-pop supergroup SuperM will rise, veiled in smoke and clad in black and silver, to finish the first leg of their sold out We Are The Future Live tour.

Formed by SM Entertainment (one of the ‘Big 3’ record labels in K-pop) in partnership with Capitol Records, the group -- quickly dubbed ‘the Avengers of K-pop’ -- is made up of seven members from four other already wildly successful groups SHINee, EXO, NCT 127 and WayV. SuperM’s eponymous debut EP, with its lead single “Jopping”, dropped on October 4th, followed by a Los Angeles showcase that shut down Hollywood streets and was live streamed worldwide. Just a week later, they celebrated a historical no.1 on the Billboard 200 -- making them the first ever K-pop artists to hit the top spot with a debut release.

It’s worth noting that SM has experimented with supergroups and ‘special units’ before, but these are typically temporary and Korea-centric -- a live performance here, a special single there. SuperM, as you’ll likely have noticed, has been aimed directly at the international market since the very beginning. In harnessing their individual strengths and fandoms -- all members maintain their roles in their original groups as well as their solo careers -- SM have formed a group with effectively 14 million collective albums sales and almost four billion music video views to its name before it even started. United in this way, the artists bring a new kind of energy that fans are lapping up. Just two months on from release, the video for "Jopping" already has over 47 million views.

So who are these seven members?

Taemin, the 26-year-old industry veteran among them, debuted in 2008 with SHINee. Fans watched on as he grew from a shy teenager to a fearless artist who is now famously looked up to by his peers. Baekhyun, the eldest and designated leader of the team at 27, is one of EXO's lead vocalists, known for his cheekiness. Then there’s Kai, also from EXO, who happens to be spellbinding, ballet-trained performer. Taeyong, one of NCT's main rappers and lyricists, is something of an enigma. His full-time bandmate Mark, the youngest of the supergroup at 20 years old, also helps out on the rap front. Completing the line-up are two NCT members who are also part of their Chinese subunit, WayV: Ten, a multitalented Thai artist, and Lucas, a Hong-Kong born heartthrob.

We caught up with the group to discuss how they deal with nerves, feeling like rookies again, and the new releases they've got planned for 2020.

Hi SuperM! During your debut showcase back in October you mentioned being nervous. Has the US tour been less nerve-wracking?

Taeyong: First off, it’s been so great to be back as SuperM to perform in front of all our US fans! We’re having so much fun. It was less nerve-wracking because now we’re a lot more comfortable with each other and had much more time to practice and perform together than we did for the debut showcase.

How was the process of connecting with each other, since you come from different groups but have known each other for years?

Kai: I think all of us were very open to each other, wanting to get closer. Despite already having a senior-junior relationship, we were all open to teaching each other and we had a lot of great conversations. I personally tried to connect to the rest of the guys like an older brother from the neighbourhood. We joke around a lot and have fun together.

What's one thing you learned from each other so far?

Ten: We’ve been learning so much from each other in many different aspects, but if I had to choose one thing, it’s probably music. We all come from distinct music styles, so it’s cool to learn from each other when we’re together. It makes me look forward to every day.

Can you tell us how you prepared for this tour?

Mark: Our preparation time was more limited than we would have liked, so we were very committed those sparse days we got together. We rehearsed in various ways: for example, we built a replica of the stage at a gym to rehearse, and of course we rehearsed at the actual venue as well. The energy was always really good.

What was your first impression of "Jopping", both as a track and as a word?

Mark: The strong SMP [SM's signature genre, a blend of pop, rock, R&B and hip-hop with bold choreography] vibe struck me the most. I could feel how vast the track was just by listening to it, including the depth it held. I honestly believed that it was the right song for SuperM's debut. As for the word, I thought it was a good idea. It fits the energy we wanted to deliver as a message and it felt cool to be introducing the world to a new word of our own.

You all perform solo stages at the concert. Which is your favourite and why?

Ten: Everyone is obviously so amazing, so it’s hard to choose one. But if I really just had to choose, I’d choose Taemin’s solo stage. In just five minutes, he showcases his vocal abilities through “Danger”, then kills it for the choreography and overall performance aspect during “Goodbye”. As I watch him perform, I can’t help but to think that he is one of the most impressive all-around artists out there. I hope to be an artist like that someday.

You guys have clearly launched with a unique strategy. What other innovations do you want to make in the industry?

Taeyong: It’s been really cool to be given the opportunity to be part of something new and innovative like this. As a team and as individuals, we all want to showcase new and innovative stages and performances to our fans. It’s been a fun journey working together and figuring out how to showcase our styles within our performances on this tour, both as a group and individuals. We hope to continue to bring fresh new ideas as artists who perform on stage.

You all have years of experience behind you, but with SuperM you are technically rookies again. What advice would you give to your younger selves?

Baekhyun: I do think of us as rookies again as SuperM. And the synergy we’re able to create with this specific combination of members makes for a whole new set of charms. If I were able to give advice to my younger self, I’d definitely tell him to continue to work hard, because people will notice you as long as you try your best.

Can fans expect another official release from SuperM soon?

Mark: I don't want to give out any spoilers, but we did perform two new songs during the tour already. Fans may already be expecting another comeback and I want to assure them that we are currently working on new things to show our fans. We are trying our best to create something that will meet or maybe even exceed our fans' expectations. Hope they like it.

What are your expectations for 2020?

Taemin: Because we’ll be back in the U.S. promoting for the tour, I’m excited about experiencing all the different cultures and famous spots at the different regions we’re headed. And of course I’m so excited to see all our fans there!

Mark, in NCT 127's recent interview you jokingly said that you came from the future. Now SuperM's tour name is We Are the Future. What does this mean to you?

Mark: I believe that "future" is and has always been the motto and the mindset of everyone at our label. Whatever it may be, we all try to focus on the next step and make plans for what's ahead of us. Our aspiration is to lead the generation through our music and art.

SuperM have just announced their European 2020 tour, stopping off in Paris on 26 February and London on 28 February."

Credit: Vice.

#EXO #EXO K #Baekhyun #Kai #191217 #t:news #fs:vice #comeback:Obsession

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kyliexc · 5 years ago

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BUENAAAASSSSSSSSSS ! soy yo , mini from da 6ix , again . coming at you with my original kid . she’s changed just a bit , but still pretty much a god damn M E S S . and bad bunny’s vete came on shuffle soOoOooOoooOOOOOOOOOOOOO LEGGO !

chicago’s very own Kylie Castillo has been spotted on madison avenue driving a BMW X5 , welcome ! your resemblance to Becky G is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty second birthday bash . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re impulsive , but being loyal might help you . i think being a Aries explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be a bottle of patron, late night partying and 20grams of weed .

hit the mfng like button for plots bc I WILL mssge u or else

BASICS !

Full Name: kylie valentina castillo

Nickname(s): ky, kyky, k, kybby

Age: 22

Height: 5 ft

Date of Birth: April 15th 1997

Zodiac sign: aries

Hogwarts house: slythindor (slytherin + gryffindor)

Ethnicity: mexican

Nationality: american

Gender: cis female

Pronouns: she/her

Orientation: bisexual

Religion: agnostic-catholic

Tattoos: a peach on her ass, #2 tramp stamp and canon becky g tattoos

Language(s) Spoken: english + spanish

Accent: american with a hint of spanish

BACK STORY !

kylie castillo is the third born child from alejandro and lupe castillo ! alejandro was a renowned soccer player from jalisco, mexico . he played for the mexican national team AND for Barcelona FC . lupe castillo is also from jalisco , mexico , but she attended school in spain where she began as a seamstress for a small vintage boutique before going off on her own to start her own exclusive brand that made it big - as in , only those who could really afford the clothing could wear it . lupe is owner to ROSARIO . lupe and alejandro met in spain , but ultimately moved to chicago to settle down with their kids since kylie’s paternal grandparents lived there.

Kylie was born in Chicago , Illinois , but throughout her childhood , she bounced between Chicago, Los Angeles , and Barcelona !

kylie took after her dad , immediately falling in love with soccer since she was little . it wasn’t like the castillos pushed her into it , she found the sport herself . kylie , along with her siblings were a sports family in general . most of her siblings got into some sport growing up , whether they took it seriously or not was up to them , but kylie definitely did.

kylie and her dad are really close for the fact that he basically coached her throughout her entire athletic career . kylie is very competitive because of this , and super into keeping herself fit . she sees a goal , she wants it , and she’ll do anything to get it . her jersey is #3 !

besides soccer , she really loves to sing and it came out of nowhere but it was due to all the family parties she has . often an acoustic guitar would be brought out and everyone , including kylie would be singing along to vincente fernandez - heck , you know the castillos hired a mariachi band to be part of these gatherings .

ky spent a lot of time with her grandparents who would ALWAYS be blasting old mariachi / love songs , singing at the top of their lungs to each other , and from this kylie enjoyed what music did for her . performing was just another thing that came easy to her . the stage , whether it be an actual stage or just a small little space where she was surrounded by family , it was home to her , and she was never afraid . the one place where she could vocally express herself is through her lyrics . ky and her cousins often would write down song lyrics , pretend to perform for thousands of people - but it wasn’t something she ever thought she’d do . it was just for fun , and she took up extra curriculars besides soccer that related to it . i . e dance , acting , etc.

yet , that was something else , her eyes were on the prize , and that was soccer . sort of .

kylie had everything set for her to continue playing soccer after high school , to eventually make it onto the US Women’s Soccer team - yet she deadass started to slowly give it all up at the beginning of her 4th year of high school , hanging with the stoner kids , practicing less , putting less effort. she eventually found the underground rap scene - she loved soccer , but it was time for something else , especially when her dad was mad at her , the field didn’t feel like home like the stage did .

on soundcloud , and youtube , kylie lent her vocals to some guys she met , being on their tracks . her sound was unique because she sang and rapped in both spanish and english . she was earning a name online , her followers going up and tbh , she wasn’t trying but it came to her and when she saw the numbers rise , and her name get out there a bit . she rlly started working on that part of her life .

A MESS ?! * TW : abortion , drugs , etc .

in high school , she met giovanni ho ho hoe narciso . they were friends for a long time until finally , they started dating . definitely one of the reasons, but not the main reason why she also didn’t care about the sport as much - but kylie’s dad blamed gio a lot fo kylie not playing soccer . so her dad didn’t like gio , and to make matters worse , he didn’t like gio’s dad . so it was a HOT MESS . kylie ultimately had to choose between her family and gio , and when she said yes to marrying gio , she chose gio .

18 years old and she ran off to marry gio - except that didn’t happen .

she woke up one morning , he was gone and she couldn’t get a hold of him anymore . ky really didn’t have a choice besides going back to her family , and BET her dad was all ‘i told you so’

she couldn’t contact gio but YOU BET she ended up finding him eventually to get in the lasdt mfng word but that conversation ended up with her just being hurt , and it was the last time she really saw gio . he moved on , whether she believed it or not , he did .

so fast forward not long after that meeting . kylie found out she’s pregnant . obviously , it was gio’s . and she had two choices , keep it or get rid of it .

without telling anyone , except her best friend , kylie got an abortion . which , no one knows , not even her family , not even gio .

SECRET !

***again , not many people know this ? but the one above is a secret too ?? she’s just full of secrets. JKFDHDFKG

from 20 - 21 , kylie moved out , hopping from place to place within chicago . but she definitely went off grid . not caring for social media , not contacting her parents .

kylie went into a strip club and at first it was for jokes , but when she got on the pole - she was actually good ?? JDKHGDKFJHDFKJH so the manager offered her a job and well , bitch took it . so she did that for a year , hanging with the wrong crowd, drinking every day , smoking weed which is a staple for her , but she started to do blow - which is .. not a staple for her . it was a dangerous year for kylie .

but doing blow , and selling it for awhile while working the pole gave her the connections she needed to meet rich guys with status in the music industry.

so eventually , her EP made it in the hands of a producer for sony music latin .

so she left the pole and started being featured with big time Latin names

think cardi b’s start up and yeah , she definitely drugged men and stole from them while doing this too DKJGFHDKFJ

PERSONALITY + CURRENT SITUATION !

kylie’s back bitches ! as in people already knew her but she’s been M.I.A for a year , so she’s back and ppl are like wtf KDJGHDKFJGHSFKDJ and she lives in New York now

currently she’s working on her first album release.

besides the mess , she’s a GOD DAMN GOOD TIME. if you ever need to get drunk and party. kylie is your girl . if you need to get fucked up, you better have her on speed dial.

kylie’s the bitch with the bottle of patron , serving tequila shots , and then dancing on top of tables.

highkey always ready for a fight . she doesn’t care where she is , she will always SWING. don’t play games thinking she’s gonna back down from a fight bc she won’t. if u want a fight , ky will give u one KJDHGKSFJDHGKSDJGH talk shit get hit is her motto and i hate her for it

she has a black cat named mijo

her friends and family are the loves of her life . literally , if you mean something to her , there’s nothing she won’t do for you . she will ADORE YOU

if ur her enemy .... that’s fun too. :)

confident AF

she’s an all around bitch i hate her , but she’s a mess , and she’s funny , and she’s too much sometimes .

too stubborn for her own good all the time bc she thinks she’s always right.

she’s also really goofy when she wants to be

has a hell of a good work ethic , will get shit done when it needs to be done . is definitely the pushy friend to encourage others to do the same.

BEST HYPE WOMAN EVER

she loves assholes.

her lito, lita, ita, tito {grandparents} are her favourite people ever

will cuss you out in spanish and english

hella hot tempered and uhm...

YEAH THERE’S A LOT BUT YEAH I THINK I GOT IT COVERED KGJHDSKFHG

#why she so cute in that gif for #wHO ALLOWED THIS #who told me listening to vincente fernandez while writing this was a good idea #im so HURT #Y THE EFF IS THIUS A MFNG NOVEL #OGHFDKJH #hit me pls #wealthyhq:intro

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agentdagonet · 5 years ago

Note

so this may be asking too much but… Headset Romance: The love story of two people who have never met. With Agent!Harry and Handler!Eggsy

Okay so I know that this is several thousand years late, but I hope that it was at least a little worth the wait?

Headset Romance

‘You’re a bloody peacock and that’s somethin’ I’ve learned from experience, Galahad. The fuck did you say that for? He’s def gonna remember your sorry arse now.’

'I found his company degrading- I can get the drive without playing nice with an adulterer.’

'If you say so, guv- but if this comes back to bite your arse I expect the whole song an’ dance. An’ a stiff drink.’

'And how will I deliver these things to you, oh faceless one?’

'You’re a fuckin’ secret agent, I’m pretty sure you can figure out a private youtube link and how to pay a drink forward. Or just do the performance for Merlin- he’ll make sure I get to see it.’

'Alternatively, you and I could simply go out after a job well done like normal people do after work.’

'We ain’t normal people, guv- on your left, yeah good- and I’m plenty satisfied with this arrangement.’

'You could be further satisfied.’

'Did you really jus’ try an’ pull that one on me? Next you’ll be saying somethin’ about the many benefits of physical interaction. Upstairs, third door on the right.’

'Well it’s not as if I haven’t suggested such things before. Got it.’

'Good, can’t go back the way you came but there’s another stairwell down the way- go up a floor and go down elsewhere. Minimal interaction means you can’ just punch your way outta this one.’

'Fists are so uncivilised-’

'Or any of your gadgets, neither. Jus’ get home safe and drop that drive at HQ.’

'Fine. In repayment for you taking away all of my fun, I’ll be sure to send you the most awful thing I can find in-’

'Oh there you are’

'Shit.’

'Lemme guess, it’s the prick you insulted earlier. An’ he ain’t too happy.’ There’s no response, but the view from the feed is answer enough. 'Knock 'im out and get the fuck outta there. This cover’s a bust now, anyway so it don’t matter how just get it done.’ Galahad doesn’t acknowledge him, though he does knock the target’s lights out as quietly as possible before making his way quickly but calmly from the event. Small favours.

'So I’m expectin’ that song an’ dance before you’re sent off on your next mission.’

'Is now really the time to rub it in my face?’

'Are you dyin’?’

'No.’

'Bein’ pursued?’

'No.’

'Injured in literally any way?’

'Well, my knuckles ache a bit.’

'That don’t count. An’ my point is that now is the perfect time to rub your mistakes in your face like a pup who’s pissed on a rug. I dunno how you survived twenty-somethin’ years without me.’

'Merlin had hair to pull out. And I resent that statement.’

'Y'mean you represent that statement. An’ I’m buying that man a cake. “Congratulations on Surviving Galahad” has a nice ring to it.’

'In what way do I represent a pup? I’m perfectly grown, thank you.’

'Oh I know you are; you’re a big boy, ain’t ya? But you listen to very few people, an’ even then do things your own way, and then you strut your way home expecting a bone and a belly rub for a job well done.’

'I’m hanging up now- obviously made it to the extraction point; I’ll debrief upon arrival.’

'Oh don’t take it personal, Galahad- you know you’re my favourite.’ The silence on the other line was answer enough. Eggsy closed the feed and smiled to himself, happy with the successful mission. He’d only been Galahad’s main handler for a couple years, but it was easily the most fulfilling job he’d ever had. Percival took him too seriously, Bors was a bit obsessed with explosions, and Lancelot was far more pun than professionalism.

It also wasn’t a bad thing that Galahad was incredibly witty. And fit. And so out of his league it wasn’t even funny. One glance in the mirror when he forgot (He assumed he forgot; no need to make assumptions and make things worse than they were) that the feed was running and Eggsy was completely gone for him. Lust at first sight, when he’d already been enamoured with his dry wit, made Harry’s inexplicable interest in him the worst temptation.

But he didn’t know much of anything about Eggsy besides his sarcasm. Well, that wasn’t quite true either, Eggsy mused as he wrote up his end of the mission report. Eggsy’d spoken about his sister, and his mum, and about the Prick with a capital P he’d managed to get rid of when Merlin had hired him. He’d talked about loads of shit. Just nothing he thought was worth the kind of fuss Galahad made of him- Galahad, who had never even met him, and probably just had a thing for a bit of rough.

Not that that was a bad thing- but Eggsy knew he’d want more than a tumble with him and he just didn’t think that was possible.

'Eggsy, I have something for you.’ Merlin spoke from the doorjamb, ever-present clipboard in his hand and a smirk on his face. There’s a ping from his monitor, and Eggsy opens a file under the watchful eye of Merlin labelled 'He Told Me So.'

It’s a simple video, a sheepish smile on Harry’s face as he sits in the Kingsman plane, doing these silly little waves with his hands while he sings 'you told me so’ in varying pitches at a whisper. It’s obvious that he doesn’t want the pilot (a mate of Eggsy’s named Ryan, not that Harry knows that) to hear him and turn around, he’s flushed from his neck to the tips of his ears. It’s actually adorable.

'I don’t know how you get him to do these things, lad.’ Merlin’s chuckling behind him, eyes bright behind his specs. ‘I can barely get him to show up on time.’

‘What c’n I say, I’ve got the magic touch.’

‘If I didn’t know better I’d accuse you of having siren’s blood- he’d do just about anything you asked of him.’ Merlin nods his head at the screen, where Harry is paused mid-song. ‘This being the least of it. He’s also instructed me, in this e-mail, to tell you that your drink will be waiting for you at the pub down the street once he’s back on home soil. And not to sound terribly cliched, but am not an owl so stop using me to send messages back and forth. Give him an e-mail or something if you refuse to give him your number.’ He grumbled a bit (sounds suspiciously like you oblivious bastards) before wandering off.

Eggsy finishes his report with a smile, and places an order at the bakery he knows Merlin prefers.

Harry got off the plane at HQ early the next morning, sun barely over the horizon, and immediately went to debrief with Arthur. Merlin would be sure to meet him there, the way he always did, and then Harry would get to go home and sleep in his own bed. Sounded like heaven.

‘Now, Galahad, it seems like the mission went off without issue?’

‘For the most part, yes.’

‘The most part?’

‘I’m afraid that alias is unusable now- I accidentally compromised the mission but managed to work around it to fulfill the objective.’

‘Excuse me, gentleman- dropping off some reports for Arthur.’ A young man came through, dropping a thick stack of files on Arthur’s desk with a nod. Nothing in particular stood out about him, accent as upper-class as most everyone at Kingsman (with the one notable exception that Harry could never track down) and his clothes, though casual, were obviously of high quality. He was probably one of Merlin’s minions.

‘Ah, Lunete, thank you.’

‘Sir.’ In lieu of goodbye, he nodded at them (and exchanged a wry smile with Merlin, confirming his suspicion) before leaving the Dining Room.

‘Now, to get back to things- there was no “accidentally” involved in your alias being compromised.’ Merlin turned a severe glare in his direction before turning back to Arthur. ‘I reviewed the footage personally, and he brought attention to himself by insulting the target. Claims he found his company degrading, and could accomplish the task without following the instructions of his handler. In the end he forcefully knocked the target unconscious because too much time had elapsed to use the amnesia darts.

‘Well, as he did achieve the objective, we can at least attest to his being correct on part of that- though you did lose us a useful alias and years of work.’ Arthur turned to Harry, who looked sheepish for a moment, intent on opening his mouth to defend himself, but Merlin redirected his attention once again.

‘Yes sir, he did- but I’d like to bring something to your attention; glasses, please.’ They looked up at the hidden screen, which was now displaying the details of his alias’ file. ‘This is the file for Atticus Grey as it was originally constructed.’ He typed something onto his clipboard, ‘this is what is associated with that person.’

‘Well, this is convenient.’ Arthur muttered to himself, saying what Harry had been thinking. By some kind of divine intervention, it seemed that all of the people he’d made connections with through Atticus were either in custody or dead. The former of which was adding to the latter every year.

‘So, even though he did in fact ruin this alias, it’s not an altogether unsalvageable situation. Honestly, we probably would have scrapped this alias within the next couple of missions anyway.

‘However, with this alias being scrapped a bit prematurely, my team will need a few days to make the new alias as airtight as possible. With most agents off on missions we’re prioritising handling over our background work- when Percival and Lancelot return we should be ready for wherever you wish to send Galahad next.’

‘Forcing our Galahad into some down time, are we?’

‘No idea what you’re talking about, sir, it’s just procedure.’ There’s a glint in Merlin’s eye that says otherwise, but nothing he says will change their minds. This wasn’t the first time they’d pulled such tricks, merely the most recent. Arthur dismissed Merlin with a smile, and he and Harry finished their tea with non-work related chatter.

‘I have some errands- a few days home shouldn’t be too tedious.’

He was wrong. Harry Hart was many things and now he would be adding wrong to the list. A few days on home soil with no clear objective or clear end in sight was tortuous. He’d taken to pestering Merlin for updates every few hours, which had resulted in him being locked out of his office and the direct link from his glasses being shut off.

‘Any reason in particular there’s a picture of Merlin’s face taped to that punching bag?’ The voice comes from behind him, bemused and unfamiliar, and Harry turns to find the minion from before. Shit.

‘Needed to let off some steam- Merlin’s decided to force some down time upon me, but I have nothing to do.’

‘That so? Still doesn’t explain why you’re punching his face like that.’

‘Sure it does- he’s insufferable and I can’t take it out on him in person.’

‘Isn’t there anything else you can do to pass your time?’

‘I’ve already finished all of my reports- and I’m doing the only other thing I can here at the gym.’

‘You could go for a swim- or the obstacle course! That one’s always fun. Or family to visit, or something?’

‘Been there, done that; and the obstacle course is only fun the first few times. Doing it on repeat for days takes it away. And no, they all died years ago. Just me and Kingsman.’

‘You need to get out more. Come with me.’ Lunete had one shoulder propped against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets, and a smirk on his face like he’s got a fabulous joke but won’t share it.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Well I was going to head home and hang out with my mother and sister, but you need a night out. Come on, then.’

‘I barely know you.’

‘First off, we both work at Kingsman, so how dangerous can I be to you; and second your file’s public to those of us in the Lake, so I know all about you- you could come out and even the score?’

‘I think you’re just trying to keep me from beating Merlin the next time he emerges from his cave.’

‘Eh, that’s just a pleasant bonus.’

Eggsy ended up bringing Harry to the first pub he saw between the mews and Kingsman- in the opposite direction from the one Harry’d left his “you told me so” drink at. It wouldn’t do to be recognised since he was doing some serious posh-acting; he didn’t want the jig to be up too soon.

On the one hand, it was annoying as fuck to act like someone he wasn’t for longer than he absolutely had to. Arthur and his cronies were bad enough on site let alone out in public. On the other, though, it was probably the closest he’d get to actual spy work even if it was all for his own benefit.

But, even as they sat across from one another at a booth and talked aimlessly about nothing, Eggsy could see Harry relaxing despite himself. He’d talk about some mishap in R&D and Harry would laugh until he was wiping at his eyes; and Harry would tell some story about his dog (the fuck kind of name was Mr. Pickle, anyway?) which would prompt him to talk about JB, and inevitably end up in giggles.

Eggsy relished the opportunity to see what Harry was like outside of a mission, and what he acted like with someone he wasn’t strangely obsessed with. Now that he thought about it, Harry probably saw him as a mystery he wanted to solve. He wouldn’t be interested once the mystique was gone, no matter what he said to the contrary.

Even more motivation to make this mask believable. No way for Harry to connect the two.

Harry, on the other hand, was enchanted with the surprisingly eloquent man. He lamented not having met him before, but resolved to get to know him better now. Merlin certainly wouldn’t begrudge him a friendship with one of his minions, would he?

—

‘Lunete! Package for you.’

‘Another one?’

It had been a few months since Eggsy’d taken Harry out to that pub in the guise of Lunete- and for some odd reason Harry had decided that the best way to cultivate a friendship with him was through obnoxious souvenirs. The kind of things Eggsy thought of when Harry threatened to gift him with “the most awful thing” he could find in wherever the fuck he was for a mission. Eggsy wondered if these were Harry’s idea of good souvenirs and, if so, allowed himself a shudder at the possibilities “the most awful thing” suggested.

Today’s mystery package wasn’t very large- which eliminated another taxidermied animal- and it wasn’t very heavy- which eliminated a new creepy looking statue.

If Eggsy hadn’t already known Harry outside of Lunete he’d have run for the hills after the first package. There’s eccentric and then there’s eccentric and while the former was interesting the latter was incredibly creepy. As it was Eggsy worried about his sanity, though he probably shouldn’t, as most of the Knights had something incredibly strange they loved. Gawaine had a collection of cat statues, Bors kept bits of rubble, and Percival collected local animal teeth. He’d resolved to never ask where he got them, no matter how elegant they looked once he’d polished them.

The sight of them with bits of gum still attached made an impression, to say the least.

Steeling himself, Eggsy cut the tape and pulled open the flaps before he could talk himself out of it, one eye closed while the other squinted into the box.

There was a note.

Lunete, I saw this while in Switzerland and was captivated before remembering that I had no one to gift such a thing. But I remembered that you mentioned a sister all that time ago, and picked it up anyway. I’ve no idea how old she is (for all your chatter you’re surprisingly difficult to get information from) but if nothing else you can give it to your mother or something.

Reaching blindly into the packing chips he grasped the first solid object he came into contact with. It was box-like, cool to the touch, and thus far made no noise which eliminated several possibilities- and pulling it out Eggsy gasped.

It was elegant, carved in cherry wood and smooth as silk; the designs were all floral, likely roses or carnations or something. It wasn’t the kind of thing Eggsy would have picked up on a whim, but the kind of timeless beauty he could see being passed down or inherited. Opening the lid, Eggsy was a bit startled to be greeted with music- who made music boxes this gorgeous? The tune was familiar, if a bit sped up, but he couldn’t resist humming along.

And then, giggling to himself, he penned a response.

Well, Galahad, I certainly have no use for something as pretty as this myself, and Daisy’s a bit young for it, but my mother will love it. Thank you for the rarity that is a gift that doesn’t haunt my (or the rest of us Minions’) nightmares. Seriously. They’re haunting. But I’ll certainly be that someone who’ll watch over you.

Gershwin? Really? Could have at least been a typical Mozart or something but you had to go and get something classy and unexpected.

—

Eggsy certainly hadn’t expected his bit of fun to bite him in the arse quite so immediately. Harry’s flirting hadn’t lessened any over the coms, but now it was accompanied by humming. Incessant humming that matched the music box that now lay atop his mother’s dresser.

'Fuuuuuuck.’

'I’m not your agony aunt, Eggsy, take your self-created issues elsewhere.’

'But he’s gonna figure it out, Merls!’

'Again, not my problem. Get back to R&D or research Galahad’s next assignment, I don’t care, but get out of my hair.’

'But you don’t have any-’

'Finish that sentence and I’ll delight in telling him myself. I’ll make a power point with all the evidence, and finish with your address so he can-’

'Alright, alright. Fine. I’ll just go curl up and die at my desk. An’ you’ll have to break the news to Daisy.’

'Far be it for me to interrupt your plans for spontaneous expiration.’

—

'So, Eggsy,’

’Don’ even start, Galahad. Up the stairs and to your right- the painting of some posh knobhead with blue boots is hollow.’

'You don’t even know what I was going to say!’

'Half the shit from your mouth during these missions is either you tryin’ to talk me out of the plans I make to keep your sorry arse alive, or flirtin’ with me despite the fact that we’ve never actually met in person. As you ain’t fightin’ the plan, I assume your next words were gonna be some persuasive argument about the pleasures of the flesh. Again.’ He let a little of his irritation slip through, though mostly he was just nervous about Harry connecting him and Lunete. He knew it would happen eventually, but fuck it didn’t need to be now.

’… Got the file.’ Harry said reluctantly, almost a sigh, and for a moment Eggsy wondered if he’d somehow gone too far despite not changing his reactions to his flirting in the first place. 'On my way to extraction.’ The playful edge that had come to be the highlight of these missions was missing. A Galahad subdued and not in the I-made-a-mistake-and-got-briefly-captured-again way.

It left Eggsy feeling off-kilter. And incredibly worried.

'Job well done, Galahad. Debrief at 1000.’ Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything after all.

—

'Dare I ask what happened to put this kicked puppy look on your face, Harry?’

'I’ve been ridiculous and making unwanted advances on a man I have never seen.’

'You’re always ridiculous.’

'I’ve never even met the man and his voice is the brightest part of my missions.’

'As I’ve already said once of late I am not an agony aunt and I have no desire or true advice to give you. Outside of, oh, I don’t know, perhaps asking to meet in person?’

'He shoots down my advances-’

'Likely because that’s what they are? Advances, obviously geared toward a goal that doesn’t happen to stop at friendship or likely involve it at all.’ Merlin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, 'Why do you care so much, anyway?’

'Eggsy’s never treated me like a superior officer. He’s never acted like he was beneath me for being behind the coms instead of in the field. He’s honest and rude and makes me laugh and somehow I’ve fallen for him despite not knowing the shape of his face or the colour of his eyes- the timbre of his laugh is enough.’

'I was expecting something more like “he’s a shit like me and I don’t want to ruin our working relationship” but leave it to you, Hart, to make it about feelings. What kind of spy are you?’

'A good one, I hope, to have made it this far into my lifespan.’

'Only by the grace of excellent handling.’

'Ah, the great Merlin, so humble.’

'I was referring to Eggsy- you caused me to lose the last of my hair, I have no patience for your showmanship, and your unparalleled ability to destroy my tech means that I tolerate you at best when I’m handling you.’ And there it was, the shame, at reducing a brilliant handler to a seductive voice through no actions but his own.

'I don’t want to lose him.’ It’s whispered, eyes staring at a spot on the wall and completely missing the pitying look Merlin throws his way.

'Then be honest, you great pillock, and talk to him. Not your weird proposition shit, either- I have to go through your mission footage and some of that… You’re not going to get anywhere with some bad pickup lines and innuendo.’ Merlin pushes his glasses up his face and turned away, tapping at his clipboard, 'And that’s all I have for you today. Please vacate the premises or I shall be forced to do something terrible to another one of your fetishistic loo butterflies.’

'Fine, fine, I’m goi- wait, what do you mean another?!’

—

‘Eggsy.’ He’s holed up in a supply closet, as cliche as one can be, but he will be there for an undetermined amount of time and he is just absolutely done with the stilted, awkward, handling of this mission.

‘Dare I ask, Galahad?’

‘I just wanted to thank you for putting up with me.’ He tries to press as much sincerity into the phrase as he can, hoping beyond hope that he can somehow repair what he hadn’t realised he was breaking. ‘I know that I can be a bit much, but I don’t want you to think that I’m this way with the rest of the Lake. I simply have no idea of how to keep your attention.’

‘It is literally my job, Galahad, to keep my attention focused on ou ad get your arse home safely.’ Eggsy was confused, and maybe a little hopeful. He’d felt bereft without Harry’s incessant nattering, but hadn’t known how to fix it- maybe this was it.

‘I was rather hoping to keep your attention while off-mission, as well.’ Eggsy nearly groaned, but took a moment to think on the situation. Harry wasn’t being actively flirty, the tone was all wrong; if Eggsy didn’t know any better he’d say that the great Harry Hart sounded nervous.

‘With more soul-damaging relics from your missions like the ones you send Lunete?’

‘No- well, correction, not only with carefully-chosen pieces. I-’ Harry paused, and Eggsy realised that this was, indeed, an honest conversation that Harry was trying to have with him. ‘I would like for us to meet. Formally, face-to-face, give myself a visual to go with the auditory man who has consumed my attentions for quite some time. I understand that there is no reason for you to believe me, given my previous actions, but I’ll readily admit to having had no other idea of how to express my interest. Merlin can tell you that outside of a mission I’ve never been particularly graceful or smooth when it came to potential romantic partners.

‘I find that I’ve become enchanted with the idea of you, and would greatly appreciate the opportunity to discover if my fantasies even touch upon the reality of you as a person.’

Eggsy literally had no idea of how to progress from here. Despite his own infatuations with the man, he’d dismissed Harry’s words as empty and with this revelation had no idea of how to progress. Forget the conundrum of Eggsy and Lunete being the same person- this was a problem now, and Merlin had probably known all along and that fucker hadn’t even tried to warn him.

'We’ll see Galahad,’ Eggsy fought to keep his voice playful, to not give away his scrambling for a proper answer, 'you’ve got to get your way out of this shit first. An’ maybe, maybe, we’ll see about gettin’ a drink or something.’ And now Eggsy was back to cursing his mouth for running ahead of his brain and making promises he probably couldn’t keep.

Harry continued to pretend that the pounding of his heart was due to his circumstances in the mission and not due to the tantalising possibility of meeting Eggsy proper at long last.

—

Of course, Harry had managed the near impossible and completed the mission both on time and without any grievous injury to himself. Or to his target, which was a positive as he’d been tasked with surveillance and strictly told not to engage which are rules the man usually took as a challenge.

Merlin googled at the record when it was brought to him, and Eggsy took a seat across from the man as he reviewed the contents.

‘He didn’t make an uncouth comment and get chased from the grounds?’ The again went unsaid.

‘No.’

‘And he didn’t continue to press you about going out after you gave him a solid maybe?’ Merlin sounded as incredulous as Eggsy felt.

‘Nope.’ Eggsy was in more than a fair bit of shock. On the one hand, Harry had achieved the objective while Eggsy had been in his ear. So that was a point for both of them, for Eggsy’s success as Handler and Harry’s as Knight; but the hows of it. Harry had done all of it because Eggsy had said they might get to meet if Harry did what needed to be done. The mere idea of getting to meet had given Harry enough cause to have achieved a nearly impossible feat for him.

‘I’m no’ one to butt into personal business-’

‘I fuckin’ know that, Merlin- you practically set this shit up by keepin’ to yourself.’ Eggsy grumbled, crossing his arms and slumping in the chair.

‘But perhaps, lad, Harry’s more than a bit serious about this.’ Merlin continued as if uninterrupted, and Eggsy looked away.

‘D’you really think so?’

‘The only way you’re going to know is if you actually talk to him and stop with this weird double life you’ve made for yourself and no,’ Merlin wagged a finger angrily, ‘I am not going to help you fix this shit. You dug this hole, make your own way out of it.

‘I certainly hope that you continue to inspire this out of him and he doesn’t corrupt you instead.’

Eggsy stayed in that chair long after Merlin had returned to his own tasks, wondering just what he was going to do. He had two obvious options: he could meet Harry in person and come clean- or he could really chav it up and hope Harry wouldn’t be able to see Lunete in Eggsy.

But, to be honest, Eggsy was getting real tired of having to keep track of who he had to be at any given moment. What Lunete knew versus what Eggsy knew and where they could overlap believably with them both being in the Lake. It was getting exhausting, and even with the possibility of losing Harry entirely through this fiasco, Eggsy was just. So. Tired. And maybe that wasn’t the best reason to stop leading a double life but it was the one he had.

So, there, that was one decision made- a pretty big one, too. Now he just had to hold himself to it.

But that didn’t mean he had to make it easy for the man; maybe he could get one last bit of fun from this fiasco.

–

Harry’s office at headquarters was very secure. Merlin never let anyone in or out without his say so, even when the door was unlocked he’d lock it just as someone was reaching for the handle just to be a shit.

So the box on his desk was a terrifying surprise. First because he’d had no idea that anyone had been in his office- but mostly because of the contents. The outside was so unassuming that Harry had reached in without a second thought and immediately regretted the action.

‘What the fuck is this shit?’

‘It happens to be a gift, you idiot, if you’d bothered to read the card prior to sticking your hand inside?’ Melin chimed in from the glasses, and Harry flipped him off smoothly with one hand as the other shut the glasses down. So what if he was right, it was the principle of the thing.

Harry pulled out the thing that had stabbed his finger, and was greeted with the most obnoxiously American thing he had ever seen. Intricately carved, it would be a work or artistry if it weren’t for the obnoxious colouring. A bald eagle sitting on a branch, a snake in its grasp, with everything but the bird in natural colours- the eagle was painted as the Americal Flag. It was the end of a wing that had stabbed him, curled upward in a parody of landing from flight. It was atrocious.

‘What. the fuck. Is this shit?’ Harry warily stuck his arm back into the box of packing chips, feeling about for any additional hidden monstrosity, but came up empty. ‘No note?’ Harry began to turn the box about, half tempted to “accidentally” knock the statue from his desk- but he knew that if it had ended up here then the sender would discover the untimely demise. And, heaven forbid, send a replacement. On the end that had been facing his chair there was a small note, taped and half falling off the side of the cardboard.

Let’s play hide and seek, Galahad. You’re it. -Eggsy

Harry pulled the note and examined the writing closely. The ink was partially bled through in some spots, as if he’d hesitated while writing it, and it looked to have been written by one of the Kingsman issued pens- not the ones with the poison, but the ones used for official paperwork, with the combustible ink. Just in case, you see, someone ever managed to get their hands on confidential paperwork. Which eliminated a great many people, as the only people to use them casually were the Minions, who used them for everything by default.

As if sparked by this train of thought, the ink began to eat through the paper. Well, that route of examination was out. Eggsy had mentioned more than once the trinkets Harry would send to Lunete, so it was entirely possible that this gift was poking fun at his habit of choosing memorable items for the man, but to that end it also firmly pointed Harry to a particular collective of Minions: Merlin’s favourites. Unfortunately, codenames meant very little overall within the walls of the place- but real names were rare. It was far more difficult to ask after Richard than Bors, for example, because much like in faerie courts real names held power and were rarely shared.

So asking for Eggsy would get him nowhere, unless he was asking Merlin directly, but the man had been of no help thus far and would likely continue on that trend for a while yet. So he was on his own to solve this mystery. Which meant he had to rely upon his already collected knowledge far more than present clues.

Eggsy was a man with a simple- no, humble- past, who had come to Kingsman from the Army where Merlin had spotted him causing some trouble. Eggsy’d been confronted by his SO and had been quite contrite to admit that he’d been messing with the tech because he was bored and had lost his sense of purpose when those around him didn’t seem to care about the why as much as the when. He’d had a note put into his file, and Merlin had snatched him up immediately. Harry was still unsure of why Merlin had been watching the man in the first place, as there were so many people potential to sort through at any time and only a finite number of places to put them. Harry figured it was like applying to an Ivy League school you didn’t know was considering you. Incredibly selective- so what had pulled Merlin’s attention to him?

But that wasn’t the concern at the moment. With what he knew about Eggsy, could he find him on the grounds? What did he care about, what did he mention liking about Kingsman, where would he have the highest likelihood of spotting the man in time to win this game. Harry wasn’t even entirely sure what he was competing for- but he was a vain man and desired victory for the sake of it just as much as any prize.

Harry had never bothered to learn the things a Handler would- but he could strategise if he could only decide what direction to go in. Top to bottom? One end to the other? From the centre outwards, or vice versa? Simplest would be top to bottom, as the roof provided a finite amount of space he could go- so to the roof it was. He wasn’t so desperate as to climb the sides of the building, and opted instead to take the service stairs to the top level and find a window that overlooked a bit of the roof and meander is way from there.

Which actually ended up being surprisingly difficult, but once he had found an acceptable exit he also stumbled upon another note taped to it.

Let’s play a game, mate- well, another one, waiting in one spot is just so boring y’know? I’m hanging out with the rest of the Minions til ‘bout 3 where you left me my drink way back when. Find me. That little shit had been here, how long ago was anyone’s guess, and instead of following through on whatever his original plot had been had changed the rules. As if Harry had known what they were in the first place, but the point remained that he’d changed the rules without warning or explanation.

But wasn’t that just like Eggsy, to at one moment follow plans to the letter and the next follow Harry’s lead on a whim? The fact that they were always successful could more likely be attributed to luck than any actual skill, but Harry was willing to take what the universe deigned to gift him. So he huffed a laugh and made his way back to his office, checking himself idly in the window as he removed his tie and popped a button or two. Going around to a pub while dressed to the nines, while safe in a Kingsman suit, was making himself a spectacle and if he intended to actually find Eggsy he needed to be able to blend in- at least a little. He removed his glasses, and mussed his hair just enough that it looked purposefully dishevelled as opposed to perfectly organised.

Harry made his way down to the pub, one he frequented and thus was able to pull favours with, and nodded at the barman who smoothly slid his pint down the bartop to his waiting hand as he sat at his regular spot at the bar. No words having to be exchanged, which freed him up to idly glance about the room. There were some outside seats but it was easier to hide in a crowd, and easier still to disappear with staff constantly moving about, if you knew when and how to do so. Which was usually a skill Knights honed and Minions of the Lake dismissed as unnecessary. The likelihood of their being spotted, let alone pursued, was miniscule- so why waste the energy that could be dedicated to other things instead?

There was a group of younger people in the corner booth, only a half dozen or so, about half wearing very familiar glasses. Now to spot his target proper. There was a young woman leaning intimately into the side of one of the men without glasses, with dark brown hair and pale eyes. That was Agravaine and Blanchefleur, then, as they were the topic of many Knights who were critical of relationships from within. And, honestly, how did they expect to achieve any sense of intimacy with someone outside of Kingsman, anyway? But that eliminated two suspects. There was his regular pilot, Houdain, with whom he’d shared many idle conversations of the last couple years. His accent was similar to Eggsy’s, but not so much so that he could ever have confused one for the other.

Three down, three to go.

There was another young woman with short cropped red hair, sans glasses but obviously sporting a pair of Kingsman brogues, bent nearly in double as she laughed- inelegantly snorting. She slapped the glasses off the man sat across from her in her antics, simply by waving her arms about, and Harry was grateful to know that she was not a Knight. If she were in this collective she obviously had immense amounts of talent behind the scenes, but something like that could make or break a mission. Which was entirely off topic, but Harry’s head was running in a million directions as he caught sight of the last two members of the table.

One was a driver that he knew quite well, Ither, who had always been up for a joyride while escaping their pursuants. The other was Lunete.

So Eggsy had lied, then. He wasn’t here after all. He turned back to his drink as a way to distract himself, observing the condensation run down the glass, and pretended that disappointment was not a bitter pill to swallow.

Except, suddenly, he heard a very distinct ‘you’re fucking jokin’, bruv!’ he knew without a doubt that Eggsy was in that group. His head snapped up just in time to see Lunete slap Houdain playfully on the shoulder, the latter covering his mouth with one hand while shaking with laughter.

‘Swear down, Eggs, I couldn’ make that shit up if I tried.’

‘The fuck was Lancelot thinkin’, tryin’ to make a jump like that in that outfit? She gave someone a lucky view, then?’ Ither looked as if Christmas had come early, a very Grinch-like smirk on his face at the thought, but Houdain shook his head.

‘The street was clear, luck with her, so she didn’t flash no one- but lots o’ people complained about the thumpin’ from the roof, next day.’ Lunete shook his head as Houdain finished, but Harry’s mind had stopped a bit before.

Eggs. Eggsy. Harry ran the facts over in his mind as he took another idle gulp of his Guinness; Eggsy spoke often of Lunete’s gifts, he obviously knew Harry quite well after all the time of being in his ear, was well-liked and trusted by Merlin (who else would he trust his oldest friends’ safety to, if not someone he trusted?), and suddenly he couldn’t unlink the two. Lunete was Eggsy.

Lunete was Eggsy.

Lunete was Eggsy and he’d already had a drink with the man and he’d never let it on. He’d not even hinted that he’d been hiding anything; to hide such a thing from a Knight was impressive in and of itself. He’d been sure to keep their interactions regular, had never hinted at- well, hinted at what, exactly? Had Eggsy thought anything of their pint, that day, and what of the gifts? Why had he hidden himself so thoroughly within the walls of Kingsman that it took a ducking scavenger hunt for Harry to figure it out? It was not as if Kingsan was particularly judgemental- well, no, that was a lie. Arthur was a prick.

Ah. Prejudice based around the way one walks. And talks. The things that are the quickest to reveal oneself as “other” in a collective of men from money. Arthur was quick to anger and quicker to insult, if only ever backhandedly, so the ability to blend in was imperative- he guessed- to Eggsy being able to do as he needed. Drivers and Pilots were often silent until prompted and prodded into speaking- a Handler was easily identified and exposed by voice. To affect an accent in the presence of those who would look down on you for being different was entirely understandable.

But had Eggsy truly thought that Harry would judge him in that way? Had he not been clear with his affections through the coms? Short of screaming it from the rooftops he’d done all he could to show Eggsy that he thought the world of him. But… but perhaps that was what had kept him away. If someone is showy, you never take their actions or words at face value. Never. It’s survival one-oh-one, and Harry kicks himself for not connecting the dots sooner.

Every bit of tension in his body began to loosen as Eggsy turned around, just enough for Harry to admire the cut of his jaw and the upturn of his lip as he winked. At him. That cheeky arsehole. Harry didn’t hear the particulars, but Eggsy was excusing himself from the group with a smile and making his way toward Harry- and what was Harry going to say when he finally got there?

‘Hey, Harry.’ Eggsy slid into the seat beside him and nudged one shoulder with his own, sloshing what little was left in Harry’s glass. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

‘You led me here, and yet you’re the one claiming to be surprised?’

‘Weren’t sure you was gonna find that window, guv, but you managed that shit in record time you did.’

‘So you set me up to fail?’ Harry finished his drink before he turned and lifted a brow, and Eggsy had the gall to laugh.

‘Nah, I set you a challenge and you met it. Exceeded expectations and all that shit. So, now, I’m an open book- what d’you want to know?’ He lifted a hand to the barkeep and accepted to proffered drinks with a grin.

‘Why?’

‘Why’d I leave you messages?’

‘Why this double life in the first place? What’s the truth here, Eggsy?’ Harry looked away, tips of his ears pink, and Eggsy paused for a moment before speaking.

‘I was scared- terrified, even- of you connectin’ Lunete an’ Eggsy. You’re a posh man, you got class out your arse and you’re fit and funny and I knew you were leagues away from me in life. You’d flirt with Eggsy, but Lunete was a mystery an’ you treated him like any other bloke while at the pub an’ then started sendin’ gifts and shit.’ Eggsy ran a hand through his hair and looked ruefully at Harry, ‘You was thoughtful and flirty and it made me fall more for you that I had already.’

‘That doesn’t explain-’

‘Gettin’ there, Harry. Promise. When I started at Kingsman, I’d barely walked in and Arthur looked down his nose at me and sneered that he didn’ want to see my face again. I thought I’d been dismissed b’fore I could start, but Merlin drew me aside. Tol’ me to ignore Arthur an’ that he was my boss an’ til he said leave I weren’t to so much as think about the door. But,’ Eggsy shook his head, ‘he gave me the name Lunete, an’ said to make it someone Arthur wouldn’ look twice at.’

‘So you made yourself unremarkable.’ Harry concurred, and tipped his glass in his direction, but Eggsy shrugged.

‘I made myself what he was lookin’ for. Growin’ up at the Estates, after dad died, you learn how to read people an’ make yourself what you gotta be to get by, Jamal and Ryan know all the same shit I do- they just don’t gotta use it as often. But,’ Eggsy grinned, ‘to explain the rest of this shit you get a bit of a story.

‘See, you an’ I’ve met before all this shit. Merlin and I had a bit of a laugh about it once I’d settled in. Y’see, once upon a time,’ Eggsy reached into his collar and began to pull on a chain, ‘you came by my place an’ left this with me for safe keeping.’ He opened his palm, and Harry forgot to breathe.

‘Oh my god. Eggsy.’ Harry breathed, in disbelief at having forgotten the child. It was a memorable name, and yet Harry hadn’t recognised it when they’d crossed paths again. ‘Eggcy Unwin- you’re Lee’s boy.’

‘Yeah, an’ that’s the other thing- I didn’ know if you’d still fancy me, flirty and shit, once you knew that. Still don’t know, actually, but I got tired of pretendin’ at you. The way I figure, this shit goes one of two ways, yeah? Either we get on as mates an’ we move on, or this shit’s blown us to bits and we never speak again.’ Eggsy spoke as if either option was acceptable, but Harry could see the tension in his jaw and fondly thought of him as an idiot. As if there were only ever two choices when it came to life.

‘You’ve left something out, Eggsy.’ Harry spoke blandly, allowing himself a small smirk around the lip of his glass, before setting it down and facing Eggsy fully. He waited for Eggsy to look at him and not the tabletop, but he seemed to be doing everything in his power not to do so.

‘Oh?’ Eggsy didn’t dare look at Harry- he didn’t want a fatherly pat on the shoulder, or apologies for how his life’d turnt out- but when Harry’s hand landed heavily on the wrist clutching his glass his head snapped up.

Harry’s eyes flicked to his lips so quickly Eggsy swore he’d imagined it before there were lips against his own. Insistent yet chaste, Harry pulled Eggsy to him by framing his face with both hands. His fingertips cradling his jaw with what Eggsy could only describe as reverement. His eyes slipped closed, and just as Harry began to pull his hands away Eggsy made a soft noise of protest before leaning inward and pressing his insistently back. One hand held him steady on the countertop as the other wound itself into Harry’s hair as they began to lose time.

They broke apart to jeering from the other Minions, ‘get it, Eggs!’ and the two flipped the group off with a united two finger salute before dissolving into giggles.

‘Do they even recognise me?’ Harry breathed into Eggsy’s ear, and he shook his head in reply. ‘Well, they’re quite enthusiastic about your “getting it” from a man they don’t know.’

‘Like to hope they trust my judgement.’ Eggsy laughed, feeling high from the realisation that his antics hadn’t cost him a chance with the man before him. He pulled back, allowing himself to do a full once-over of Harry’s look- he looked gorgeous like this, ever so slightly undone, and Eggsy hadn’t let himself really realise it before that moment.

‘There’s never only two options, Eggsy. You know that as well as anyone.’ Harry smiled softly, running his thumb along his cheekbone.

‘Yeah, well, forgive me for puttin’ this option from my head after havin’ lied to you for so long. An’ forget the fact that I’m nowhere near your league.’

‘We’re spies, Eggsy- lying is easy as breathing and takes half the thought of the truth. Not saying that I’m not a bit frustrated- but that’s more at my inability to be observant than your Parent Trap-ing me. And,’ Harry firmed the grip upon his face, ‘if I hear you dismiss yourself so easily again you’ll soon regret it. I love you, and if you find your own judgements are faulty then trust my own.’

‘You love me?’ Eggsy breathed, eyes wide like a child seeing art for the first time, and Harry allowed himself to drink his fill of the image before replying.

‘Well, I love what I know of you- both what you told me as Lunete and what I’ve come to know through our missions- and I look forward to loving the rest of you.’

‘Might take a while.’

‘Well, we have a while.’ The two pulled enough apart to finish their drinks, a pair of hands clasped between them as if to separate would break the spell.

#Dagonet Writes #Kingsman fic #shriekingpersonality #I swore I would finish it #and I have #BUT I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT #will crosspost to AO3 eventually

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devilsknotrp · 5 years ago

Photo

Congratulations, Honey! You are accepted for the role of Mandy Silverman. This is another sample application for potential applicants to have a look at. You’ll notice that this is quite a long application, but that’s just how I write. You can do whatever you like with yours! If you have any questions about this application or any characters with a connection to Mandy, don’t hesitate to let me know.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Honey Age: Twenty five Pronouns: She/her Timezone: GMT+11 Activity estimation: I essentially work full time and have several obligations, but this group is so tightly organised and planned that I’m confident in participating regularly on the dashboard and as an admin! My admin duties will always take precedence but I will be able to reply to threads several times a week. Triggers: (REDACTED)

IN CHARACTER: BASICS

Full name: Amanda “Mandy” Silverman Age (DD/MM/YYY): Thirty (02/03/1966) - Pisces (Sun), Virgo (Rising), Cancer (Moon) Gender: Cisgender female Pronouns: She/her Sexuality: Homosexual homoromantic Occupation: Adult Education Coordinator Connection to Victim: Mandy did not know the Goode family. She knew of them in the way all newcomers to Devil’s Knot are known: through rumor and glimpses in the Piggly Wiggly parking lot. Mandy had little to do with Linda; she’d seen David and Beth at school, when she’d gone in to meet Mary after work; but she’d never met Brian at all. Alibi: Mandy was at home that Saturday working on a craft project. She ran out of glue at around three, then walked into town to go to the craft store, where she spent a few dollars too many on a crocheting kit. She decided to pick up some coffee and doughnuts then walked back home, where she stayed for the rest of the day. Faceclaim: Elizabeth Olsen

WRITING SAMPLE

This is a self para written for the Mandy in 1984.

The Datsun.

It was such a shit little car. Really, it was. Sandy’s miscellaneous paraphernalia littered the dashboard. Her dad’s manuals and work shit stuffed beneath the front seats. Pete had stamped grubby hands all over the back windows - people asked them all the time if they had a dog. “No,” Mandy replied grimly, hoisting Pete up on one hip. “Just a kid.” The motor turned over more often than she could count, which would put her father, ever the optimist, into an agitated but vaguely amused mood. Him, hunched over the wheel, grinding the key, revving the engine, If I… could just... Then, Sandy, cranky and likely hungover, snapping from the passenger side: I told you we needed it serviced! They had about a thousand tapes in the center console, most of them in the wrong cases, with a mix that spanned from Bob Dylan to Pete’s ABC children’s songs. Them, zooming along a damp highway, rain splattering the glass, her dad cheerfully singing, The wheels on the bus go ‘round and ‘round! as Pete laughed in delight. Mandy tries to forget that she’d eventually lose her temper and shout, Can we turn this stupid shit off? as her mother mumbled, Amen, behind enormous sunglasses and a gas station Slurpee.

The Datsun, which was rotting away at the police station right this second. Mandy hasn’t asked when they’ll get it back. It’s evidence, that’s it. She has her bike or her skates and Sandy doesn’t leave the house unless she has a ride (Aisha pulling up front and blasting the horn; Sandy, clattering around gathering her things, muttering, Where’s my goddamn…). Their family car is nothing more than a shell, a marker in the Pete and Phillip Silverman’s trail to murder. Kind of like a pit stop. Wrappers marked with imaginary blood stains littering the cab floor. That clean-sour smell of nervous sweat. Her Dad was always a sweater, mopping his brow and fanning himself, Jeez, it’s hot today. Mandy kind of loved that about him. How when she was looking for him in a crowd, she just had to search for the slightly damp white button-down, the back of his nearly-balding head. His hair was soft, like down, and Pete’s was too. Two twin sandy blonde heads sitting in front of the television, Pete curled into his father’s side, Phillip slowly stroking back those baby-shampoo-soft curls.

So, yeah. The Datsun. Scene of family road trips and midnight grocery store emergencies. A wreck that managed to limp from point A to B, with her dad faithfully in the front, eager to drive her to friends’ houses or cheer practice or a competition two towns over. She still thinks about winding the windows down as far as they could go when they were on the highway. Her dad would look over, catch her eye, and grin in a way that made her think of him as a teenager, a young man, that cheerful abandon of youth that was infectious as a whisper, goose-bumps prickling her arms.

“Shall we see how fast this baby can go?” He’d yell, and Mandy would laugh and laugh: “Go, Dad, go!”

ANYTHING ELSE?

Here is my Pinterest board for Mandy (featuring ‘84 and ‘96 boards, because I’m that kind of person), and her account can be found here.

HEADCANONS

Mandy works at the Community Centre as an Adult Education Coordinator. Which is just a fancy way of saying she organises craft classes for senior citizens. Seriously. Mandy picked up the job mainly to get Sandy off her back. After commuting to Lansing to attend community college, her decision to drop out and live and work in Devil’s Knot was met, unsurprisingly, with a pointedly raised eyebrow and a loud slurp from a glass of wine. And Mandy knew, she just damn knew, that if she stuck around her childhood home any longer, she and Sandy would end up killing each other. The job isn’t taxing: she works a few days a week, has a desk up on the mayor’s floor in the Community Centre, and spends way too much time putting flyers together for their new pasta making courses or adult literacy classes. The administration is what really bothers her, because the students are lovely. Little old ladies she’s known for years; grandfathers who remember her father back in the day. Best of all, they like her. Mandy wouldn’t consider herself a charismatic person, but she is a patient one. She’ll listen to a grandmother’s story a thousand times, nodding in the right places, exclaiming, asking questions. She’s gentle. Around other people it can be a slightly different story. She’s not clipped, exactly, nor is she rude. But she is shy, and Mandy is naturally suspicious. When people stop her to talk, she hesitates. It would be too much to link that back to ‘84, although there’s little doubt that that October and the months that followed succeeded in severing her trust in adult figures for life. No, Mandy prefers to keep to herself, to the people she knows. It’s safer that way; controllable.

Mandy loves movies -- always has. Bobby, Mandy, and Perry always went on about music, talking rapturously about guitar solos and funky beats, all while Mandy pretended to grimace and trade teasing looks with Jenny and Mike. But movies. Mandy’s favourite genre is horror. Surprising, maybe, but she can’t get enough. Sci-fi is her second favourite. Her ritual is to go down to the Videoport on a Friday afternoon and stock up for the weekend. She trails down the aisles, fingers skating over the titles, looking for some weird German expressionist thing or a summer blockbuster she can zone out to. Mandy would hardly consider herself a connoisseur, but she has an encyclopedic knowledge for actors and actresses, and can name their filmography from memory just by looking at them. It’s like, one of her only talents.

Mandy enjoys cooking. She mainly enjoys cooking for Mary, who will always, without fail, praise her skills until Mandy’s rolling her eyes and begging her to stop. Even if it’s crap (which it is a lot of the time; God knows Sandy never taught her to cook; this was all the result of afternoon cable and Reader’s Digest), Mary will come up and hug her from behind, kissing the side of her neck, suffusing Mandy in warmth and her spicy perfume. That was so good. You’re so good to me. Doing things for people is Mandy’s way of showing she loves them. It doesn’t matter what it is -- laundry, vacuuming, cooking -- she’ll find herself doing things automatically. It’s a little funny that she’s turned into a housewife ever since moving out with Mary, but it’s also really damn nice. Mandy looks after their small apartment so tenderly. Watering the plants on the windowsill, buying kitsch ornaments from the thrift store, airing out their cramped bedroom in the spring sunlight. Much of Mandy’s life revolves around domestic duties. She picks up the mail, pays bills, goes grocery shopping. Mary comes too, of course, but doing things together in public can get difficult when all Mandy wants to do is kiss her deeply in the fruit and vegetable section. Mary’s full-time job is also demanding, and Mandy only works a few days a week (despite what you may believe, there are not that many adult education classes to organise; the biggest scandal was when they introduced a salsa class and everyone collectively lost their minds). Maybe, in some way, it’s Mandy’s way of holding up her end of their relationship. And maybe, in a deeper, smaller way, it’s also an excuse. If she’s busy, how can she possibly go back to college? Who’ll make apple crumble and fold the socks? Huh? The pixies? If this makes Mandy sound territorial, it’s because she is. She clings to these chores because it’s far easier than thinking about the alternative, which is to get off her ass and actually make something of her life. She’s thirty years old. Nearly thirty one. And she’s got absolutely nothing to show for it. That hurts more than anything. Maybe that hurts most of all.

Mandy is a lesbian. She knew. Even when she was a teenager, she sort of knew. She and Mike started dating when they were thirteen and just... kept going. Certain things seemed inevitable: prom, college, maybe even marriage. It was so simple to imagine her life with Mike, whose family, the Hawkers, were best friends with her parents; they’d all been born months apart; they were raised together. Most of Mandy’s childhood memories involve Mike and Mary, Jenny. They tumbled around together like puppies, climbing trees and having sleepovers. Then they started to grow up, and Mandy and Mike got together, and the atmosphere shifted a little. Mandy liked Mike. She did. Maybe she loved him, in a way. But it was so, so platonic, and the way she felt when she looked at Mary was anything but. Mary used to scare her; still does, sometimes. She was a force of nature and Mandy was the eye of the storm. Looking back, the signs were obvious, but then again, they always are.

Mandy used to dress the way people expected her to dress. T-shirts and jeans, bleached white sneakers and cheer uniforms. Not feminine enough to please Jenny, who’d wrinkle her nose and fondly say, “Mandy, are you kidding? You cannot wear that,” and not masculine enough for her dad, who’d hand her wrenches as he worked on the Cadillac on weekends, shooting sidelong glances at her squad jumper, mumbling, “You’ll get grease all over you, honey.” Scrunchies and high ponytails. Pale pink jackets and a signet ring Mike gave her when they were fourteen. Just enough to be acceptable; to be palatable. To blend in, fade away, be nothing at all. These days it’s the opposite: Mandy dresses like an amorphous blob. In fact, she’d rather people hazard a guess at what she really looks like underneath her oversized flannel shirts and huge boots. The more clothing she has on, the more protected she feels. Layers upon layers. Band shirts worn soft with too many washes; jeans more grey than black. She still has her pink jacket from high school (Mary hung it up in their wardrobe and shrugged when Mandy found it, saying, “You always looked cute, and I’m a sucker. So sue me.”) Mandy pulls her hair up and away from her face; she doesn’t wear make-up. Still has the signet ring, though. She’s a sentimental doofus, she knows.

Mandy loves arts and crafts. Pottery, weaving, knitting; painting, sketching, cooking. These are things that bring her peace, that quieten her inner world. Growing up, she wasn’t creative in the slightest. Mandy was decidedly pedestrian: the most creative thing she ever did was design banners for the cheer squad or doodle in the margins of her school notebooks. But after Pete was returned, she needed something, anything, to stifle the panic static in her brain. Countless nights were spent sitting on the couch in front of the television, Pete curled into her side, her doing finger knitting or making a collage, eyes darting between her project and the cartoon onscreen. Over the years she’s gotten better -- last winter she managed to knit Mary a hideous scarf -- but her hobbies were never pursued in the same vein as her other achievements. Mandy still remembers practicing for cheer for hours in the cold, or studying in her room until midnight, eyes dry and head aching, quietly panicking about a test the next day. Everything she did, she did obsessively. These days, Mandy just wants to be still. Their apartment is stuffed with half finished craft projects: stacks of coloured paper, jars of beads, wool in miscellaneous piles, flowers drying on the windowsill. Sometimes Mary will come home to find her sitting cross-legged at the kitchen table, a pot of sauce bubbling on the stove, Stevie Nicks in the background, Mandy carefully cutting out prints for her art journal. She started journaling when she was a teenager, mainly to help with her father’s murder and the stress of the subsequent trial, but it’s a habit that has followed her happily into adulthood. Mandy would be lost without her projects, her art. It’s a channel for everything she feels; it clarifies her. And it’s never undertaken with any attempt at perfection. Mandy’s learning, slowly, to let go of unattainable ideas. Life is messy. She’s trying to accept that about the world, herself.

Mandy failed community college. Well, it felt like she failed. In reality, she dropped out. There were only so many classes about psych and childhood trauma that she could take (and ironic, right? That she studied psych? Mandy remembers the day she flicked through the brochure to pick her classes, ticking boxes on the vague notion she’d specialise in children, maybe, in kids who’d been taken or abandoned, and help them find their childhood again). The people were too much. Tons of people like her -- great in high school, but not good enough for a decent college out of state -- and older people too, people who reminded her of her dad (not that he’d gone to college; he used to joke that that was all above his pay grade, No, no, I’m happy where I am! Although Mandy knew how avidly he poured over science magazines, and how impressed he was with Apple and that computer stuff. Maybe in another world he would have done something else, been someone great. Maybe it runs in the family). Mandy felt boring in turning down invitations to parties or even drinks down the campus bar. She’d cite anything -- Pete’s homework, the long drive home, dinner waiting -- and soon that got old. She felt old. Like she’d skipped the fun part of her twenties and jumped right into middle age. It didn’t help that everything after ‘84 melted her brain into goop. The minute Mandy received her final marks from school, she shoved the paperwork back into the envelope and hid it with her dad’s old things. The word failure pounded in her head. How did it happen? How could she have gone from mathletes and cheer to barely scraping by? To holding on by a thread? And why? Why did it all affect her so much; why was she such a damn baby about everything? Pete was back safe. That should have been enough, right? But his return didn’t come with everything. Somewhere between Pete disappearing and that Christmas, Mandy cut herself loose. Swapped SAT prep for making spaghetti for her returned little brother. Watching reruns on TV until it was way too late, tucking him into bed. Some nights she didn’t want to leave him, so she put out a sleeping bag on the floor by his bed between him and the door. Just in case. Mandy always wanted to go to Oberlin for one reason: it was far away from Devil’s Knot (and, okay, she liked the name). Ambition was a thing she wore because it fit, not because she liked it. Watching her dad’s face light up when she showed him her grades was reason enough to try hard; and studying with Bobby made her feel light, if only for a little while, them laughing and whispering about D&D campaigns, teasing each other like siblings. Being smart felt good, even if it didn’t come wholly naturally, and Mandy worked damn hard to keep it up. Giving it away should have been freeing. Instead, Mandy knows she disappointed everyone. She’s just another person who raced to the state line only to stop dead, toes at the edge, and feel fear prick the back of her neck.

#literate rp #original rp #dark rp #town rp #new rp #sample #accepted #mandy silverman

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