#every song off of your city gave me asthma | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

Text

I live in the neighbourhood

When Y/N moved to Hampstead she was unaware of the implications the decision would have on the course of the rest of her life.

Harry is Y/N’s eccentric neighbour who sweeps her up in the whirlwind that is his life

this gif bc its maybe my favorite clip of him EVER holy fuck - this is the harry of my dreams this is the harry of i live in the neighbourhood

HEY YALL it’s been a minute and I missed yall so much and I’m just about to be on break so maybe i’ll be back to posting writing regularly but with school its so hard and I think I’ve been working on this for months so yeah <3 lol PLS PLS PLS leave me feedback and reblogs and that stuff bc otherwise my writing just feels...empty and you have no idea the smile i get when even just the tags say like “god this was everything” it can be anything honestly but it keeps my passion up. Thank you again and hope you enjoy.

Word Count: ~10k | Warnings: swearing probably? no smut (yet), rich and famous harry - mentions of Taylor Swif

She considered herself an average young woman in her mid twenties. She liked screaming Taylor Swift and Megan Thee Stallion songs alone in her car and thrifting on weekends. She hated cable because of commercials and when doordash didn’t deliver all of her order. She had asthma when she worked out or the air quality was bad. She had dumb celebrity crushes that her friends and her still laughed over with every new instagram post. She had hopes and dreams she had yet to achieve and she had past trauma that many would never know about, especially at first glance.

Sure, she was successful. She would admit that. How else would she be able to afford even the modest little house she had found in Hampstead? She had studied international business in college and hopped on a plane to London the first chance she got. After a few years of a more than decent paycheck and an advantageous stimulus check from her kind parents, she was able to move out of her starter flat into the suburbs. The definitive push for the move was two-fold. Her parents wanted her to take her dog and her apartment complex was strict on no pets. Then her promotion at work - which included a pay raise - made it hard to wave off taking full ownership of her childhood ten-pound best friend.

So with life happening as it usually does, Y/N first found herself scouring Zillow, then touring homes in the area, and finally standing outside a three bedroom, two bath, two-story cream house in Hampstead. Her house.

The little moving truck she had rented sat beside her as she stared at her future. The realtor had told her they would be there in ten minutes. For the next ten minutes all Y/N had to do was keep herself from combusting, or worse, sobbing.

She felt overwhelmed already. Renting a flat in London was one way to describe herself as independent. Owning a home in Hampstead seemed like a whole new level of adulthood she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for.

After taking a few deep breaths to ground herself, Y/N walked up to the gate that kept her front yard narrowly separated from the sidewalk. She lifted one hand from beneath the box she clutched tightly to her chest to push past the iron-rod gateway. The garden was cute, a little bland, and she thought to herself that maybe she’d develop some gardening skills now that she had her own front yard. The thought made her smile a little, refraining from laughing aloud while on her lonesome, since she had never taken interest in gardening before. But this house. This house. It was a new beginning. It was a fucking unwritten journal. Blank film. Unknown territory. She could be anyone in this house.

She gently placed the cardboard box on the first step up to the front door. There was no porch, but she couldn’t complain. It was gorgeous and she was lucky to get it at the price she did. The house was cream with dark blue accents and a grey shingled roof. Lots of windows. It was classic and it was hers.

After the realtor came with her keys and made sure everything seemed alright, Y/N’s couple of friends, Amélie and Daniel, arrived with their cars filled with items she had needed picking up from various stores. They helped her move her stuff into the house. Thankfully it was already half furnished, meaning she didn’t have to go out and buy beds or couches or any of those big items that are both expensive and a hassle to deal with.

By the time the evening had rolled around, everything was in the house and it actually seemed semi put together. Y/N looked around, sweat apparent on her face and hands on her hips, proud of what she had accomplished. The nerves from earlier had been drowned by pride.

The next day, she woke up from her first night in the house. It felt like a dream even though she was sure she was awake.

She had to navigate her way to the airport today to pick up her dog from his long flight and then mainly settle into the house. Her house sat on Sherwood Avenue, one of the many streets in Hampstead. It’s neighboring houses were much larger. The ones directly next to and across from her weren’t drastically bigger but what she had yet to learn was that next to the house across from her there were two houses that had been joined together by their slightly eccentric owner. A man who would be the match that ignited the flame that was the rest of her life.

This unknown fact quickly became known after Y/N’s first few weeks in her new neighbourhood. The eccentric - more so absurdly rich - neighbor who conjoined the houses was Harry Styles.

The first time they crossed paths she wasn’t even aware of it. It was the day she moved in. He had been out for his usual morning run and was rounding the corner when she had pulled up in her moving van. Once inside his home, he snoopily watched on as his neighbour began to move in. He hadn’t taken note of much about her, just that she was new and that she had a nice pair of jeans on that day.

The second time, Y/N was convinced she needed to get her eyes checked because there was no way that she had just seen Harry Styles key himself into the house across the way from her. There was no way that she had moved into the same area as him, let alone the same street. It seemed far more plausible that she needed a psych evaluation or a strong glasses prescription.

But the third instance of them crossing paths, she was proven wrong. She was on her way back from the neighbourhood park when she saw a guy jogging towards her. With a yellow beanie and a black Columbia sweatshirt paired with running shorts and shoes, he was hard to ignore running straight towards her. The iconic curls, strong jawline, and soft green eyes were dead giveaways this time. After making brief eye contact as their paths literally crossed, she felt herself make a little face of odd interest. Her head quirked and her eyes narrowed, lips pursed with slight confusion. That was definitely him.

After that, she found herself seeing Harry around the neighbourhood a relatively good amount. She’d see him at the park, at the coffee shop, on their street, and more. They didn’t speak. She really didn’t think he would want to be bothered by his neighbours and she certainly wasn’t willing to test the theory. They sometimes gave a small smile of acknowledgement but nothing really friendly. Just ‘you exist and I know that’.

Fridays are Y/N’s favorite day. It’s the beginning of the weekend, she never has to go into work and it’s simply a nice day. People are happier, they smile brighter and it just seems like the world is a little better than usual.

Friday was especially amazing today because her childhood best friend, Cate, was arriving at London Heathrow in the evening. Y/N had begged Cate to fly out to see the new house in person and Cate had finally found the time to run away to England for a week.

She shut her front door carefully behind her and placed her headphones in her ears. Rori, that little terrier, who had made a similar flight to see Y/N’s place not too long ago, scampered out the door with her and jumped happily at her legs as she fiddled with her phone. Her coat ruffles around her disturbed from the morning air. It’s blanket-like fabric that consisted of a deep blue backdrop with felt giraffes sewn on it, kept her warm while she walked. With her mind racing with weekend plans and ideas for her and Cate to do both in Hampstead and the city, she crossed the street like usual and began to walk with her dog to the coffee shop for her morning tea.

Unlike usual, she fumbled just as she was putting her phone in her pocket and bumped into something large and definitely not sedentary.

“I’m so sorry!” She blushed and moved backwards from the man who had just been shutting his own front gate to head somewhere.

“S’alright. No harm, no foul.” He looks down at her and her dog. Rori seems excited by the stranger and sniffs him eagerly. A single paw prodding at the man’s long leg.

She grimaces, hearing the voice and stepping back allows her to fully recognize who she had just bumped into. Her neighbour. The runner. Harry Styles.

“Sorry.” She mutters again as Rori continues to prod at Harry’s leg.

She tries to coax Rori away, but Harry simply smiles and leans down to the small dog.

“Hi there buddy,” he coos and rubs the top of the fluffy dogs head, in between his pointy ears, “What’s your name?”

“Rori.” She states easily, Harry’s eyes flickering to her smoothly. Rori makes a smile babbling noise that sounds a bit like a tiny roar - hence the name - and Harry chuckles to himself.

“He’s really adorable,” he finally says and straightens up from his admiring of the dog.

The grimace becomes more of a smile on her face and she mumbles a “Thank You”.

As her neighbour - who hasn’t introduced himself (which wasn’t necessary, but still) or bothered to ask for her introduction - seems to be about to say something new when his phone begins to vibrate obnoxiously. He twitches, his large hands immediately going to his pockets for the important device. He checks the message and looks back at her face.

“Sorry, I have to run...um,” he’s not sure what to say. He really does have to go, but he doesn’t even know his neighbour’s name. He’ll have to make sure to get it at some point in the near future. Especially now that he’s acquainted with her dog.

“No worries,” she smiles completely this time, relieved for the whole interaction to be over. She felt like she was going to explode with each passing moment. In the presence of a legendary musician, c’mon, who wouldn’t be freaking out. All she could think about was how Harry Styles now knew her dog’s name. What the fuck!

Upon arriving at the airport, she waited patiently for Cate to walk out of the customs area.

When she did, the two young women began jumping up and down excitedly, Y/N squealing only slightly. They hugged and began chattering intensely, catching up on lost time that generally occurs when you live an ocean apart.

Finally, one comment rings through the constant back and forth and Cate stops.

“Wait, what did you just say,” she questions as they begin walking to catch an uber back to Hampstead.

“I think my house might be haunted?” Y/N’s voice raising because she’s unsure if that’s what Cate was talking about.

“No, no, the thing after that. I think I must’ve misheard you.”

“Harry Styles is my neighbour?” Y/N’s brows raise as she looks over at her best friend, curious to know what she will say.

“Yes! Explain. Now!”

“It’s not really a big deal. It’s a nice neighbourhood, it makes sense that celebrities of his caliber want to live there.”

“That is not explaining. You have to introduce us!”

As they climb into their uber and settle in for the short ride back to Hampstead, Y/N sighs and tells Cate everything she knows.

“We’ve only just spoken today and I’ve been here for a couple weeks. He lives across the street and down one, I guess. I just see him around, it’s not like he knows who I am. He didn’t even get my name today, just Rori’s.” She laughs lightly, still finding it funny that Harry knows her dog’s name.

Cate nods, leaning in slightly to her best friend, hardly able to contain her awestruckness from the story and baffledness at Y/N’s calmness. “So, like, when do I get to meet him?”

“Girl, I don’t fucking know. Never, if you’re going to act wild. I don’t want the neighbourhood to think I’m not chill.”

“Sometimes…” Cate starts and leans away from Y/N jokingly, “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

They both smile, bumping elbows silently. The song on the radio fading in louder as their words die out.

The next day, Y/N took Cate to the local park. It was expansive and connected to the football fields that local teams would play at. The park section was a luscious green that was maintained with copious amounts of watering by the township.

She and Cate settled on a patch of grass near a slender tree that would offer some shade if the sun’s rays became too harsh. The quilt they sat on was something her grandmother had made her when she was maybe 8 years old, meaning it was torn in places and completely worn in a different shade of pink than it had been initially.

They set up their picnic and played music, enjoying the sunny day. Something rare and fleeting as the fall began to creep up on Hampstead.

They eat and catch up on life for about an hour. Basking in the sunlight, Y/N had laid on her back and was staring up at the clouds passing along the sky. Cate was carefully watching their surroundings, simply taking in her friend’s new home, but possibly for another reason too.

“Hey, isn’t that…” Cate trails off, trying to subtly nod in the direction of an approaching figure.

Y/N sits up, her hands holding her up from behind her. Her hair fails in front of her shoulders slightly and it’s a little disheveled from being mused in the grass. She looks discreetly in the direction of Cate’s nodding and then looks at her friend and rolls her eyes.

“Yes, but don’t say anything, he might not even notice me and I’m certainly not calling out to him.”

‘Illicit Affairs’ by Taylor Swift is playing off her speaker and as she’s about to change it, Cate turns it up slightly. They share a glare with one another before trying to act casual again, even though both of their eyes kept flickering to the man who seemed to be continuing closer and closer to their set up.

It became clear that Harry was approaching them after all and Y/N tried to carry on an unbothered conversation with Cate, which was hard with the constant nudging of Cate’s foot on her shin.

He stops a mere foot away from their blanket, beaming at the two young women lounging on the ground. He makes an attempt at a casual wave, his large hand splaying his fingers quickly, before opening his mouth to speak.

Cate beats him to the punch. “Hello there!”

“Erm, hi!” He says nicely to her and then looks at Y/N.

“No Rori today?” He inquires.

“No,” she smiles, slightly blushing at the fact that he remembered her and her dog. “He’s napping.”

“Ah, I see,” He pauses, “I feel like I need to apologize.” He continues.

“For what?” She questions and Cate watches on anxiously, mesmerized by Harry and dying to see what happens next.

“I ran off before I could even ask for your name or introduce myself. It was terribly rude.”

“Oh,” she can’t stop smiling, “It’s nothing to apologize for, I’m sure you’re busy. Besides I had to get my day started, otherwise I would’ve been late picking her up.” She points to Cate who smiles sheepishly, still internally screaming over the fact that her friend is able to talk so easily to a celebrity.

Harry nods and looks at Cate again, “Just visiting I take it then?”

She nods quickly, words escaping her. Y/N chuckles under her breath and swoops in to save her friend any embarrassment. “Cate’s my best friend and she’s been kind enough to take time out of her extremely busy life to come look at my new house.”

He hums, still standing a respectful distance from their set-up. “Nice to meet you, Cate,” he says very kindly. Then he laughs, but in a way that is like he’s beside himself. The two women both quirk their heads at him. Y/N squints her eyes slightly, trying to understand the guy she is talking to and connecting him with the man that is all over the news all of the time for his musical genius.

“Now I know your dog and best friend’s names but still not yours. At this point, I’m begging you to tell me.”

They all laugh and Y/N feels nervous for the first time since Harry had walked up.

“You first,” she smiles slyly.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but then go back to normal. Harry was very smart, she likely knew his name, but one, she was trying to be funny and two, she was also trying to be courteous. He preferred to introduce himself rather than just be told who he is, even if people already knew. It allowed him to maintain some normalcy.

“‘M Harry,” He says with a smile.

“Alright.” She says and then remains quiet.

Harry’s lips quirk up in a faint smile, amused at her expression.

“I thought it was a ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ type of situation or was I mistaken?” He finally asks when she remains silent still.

The two young women laugh and Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, both feeling flustered and completely in control at the same time.

“You weren’t mistaken, I was just thinking.” Then she pauses again and Cate thinks Harry is about to combust and Harry thinks he’s going to as well with all the anticipation that has been built up over his neighbor’s name, even though he was pretty sure he’d heard it in passing at one point or another but had forgotten quickly afterwards.

“It’s Y/N.”

Harry releases a facetious sigh of relief, “Oh thank god! Finally!” His words quickly turn into an infectious laugh that is paired with a shining smile and she feels like she’s swooning right then and there. The control has gone out the window and she’s taken with her neighbor. He’s wonderful in that moment and she forgets about Cate or the park or anything. It’s just Harry and how it seems like he’s smiling just for her.

“Now that I’ve gotten your name,” he smiles pointedly at her after his laughter has faded away. The smile doesn’t leave his face though, his eyes still crinkled, his dimples still showing.

She nods, encouraging him to continue. Cate feels like she’s watching a movie unfold in front of her and she wishes she could record the entire interaction.

“I can finally ask you, Y/N, where did you get that fabulous coat I saw you wearing yesterday?”

She twitches further upright, eyes bringing themselves directly inline with Harry’s gaze. “Oh,” she inhales, “The giraffe one, yeah?”

He nods.

“I got it from a Goodwill years ago. It’s some vintage company that used to only make sleepwear. I looked up the tag one time and it doesn’t exist anymore. Super cool, though. Wish I could buy more.”

“Yeah,” Harry says eagerly, even taking a step towards the women, “It was so intriguing. Maybe, if you didn’t mind of course -” he falters, losing his courage for a moment, “you could bring it over and my stylist could check it out. I would love something similar and I’m sure he could figure it out.”

She shrugs. It wasn’t crazy, especially not for Harry - she assumed. She was certain he often found things he liked but there was only one of them so he would just order his own. She couldn’t help the pride that was swelling inside her though it that moment. Harry Styles liking her jacket so much he asked where it was from and then wanting his stylist to look at it. She’d jump for joy when she was in the safety of her private home later tonight with Cate.

“One condition,” she says and Harry’s brows quirk amusedly at her.

“You are a very tit for tat person,” he muses.

“Fair’s fair,” she shrugs again and then looks around her quickly, “It’s simple so don’t get too worked up over it, buddy.”

He laughs slightly again and tries to figure out what she’s looking for. When she extends a scratched up, sticker-covered point and shoot film camera he smiles.

“Can you take a picture of Cate and I? It’s always just the two of us so we never have anyone to take pictures of us together.”

Harry grins at this and her sincere face. Cate is a little taken aback, because while it’s technically true, it’s not entirely factual. They have plenty of film pictures of them - maybe not recently though. And she wasn’t going to question Y/N right now. It seemed like she knew what she was doing.

Harry takes the camera and begins to look through the viewfinder. The women scoot closer together and Cate wraps her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. She leans in to press her cheek against her best friend. They smile up at the camera and Harry crouches slightly to get a better angle.

“Alright,” he mumbles, “Ready?...Cheese!”

Their smiles stay hung on their face as they listen for the click and when the faint sound befalls their ears, Cate laughs and Y/N pulls away. She reaches forward for the camera, her hand easily brushing Harry’s large one.

Their smiles meet each other and Cate can’t help but notice how they grow as the two of them look at one another.

“Thank you,” Y/N says sweetly and pulls back to retake her seat on the blanket.

Harry straightens up, his grin falling back into that signature smirk. “No problem.”

“So-” He begins but she cuts him off.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He clears his throat, feeling thrown off. “Yeah, sure. I guess next time I see you we can talk about when a good time would be for your jacket to come over?”

His voice raises at the end of his question a little more than usual, he’s trying to get her to bite, but she doesn’t seem like someone who is easily thrown off. He is trying to read her and she’s been completely cool the entire time. It’s intriguing. Even more so than the jacket, even though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, it wasn’t really his focus when he walked across the park to her and Cate.

“Yep! It was nice finally meeting you Harry.”

He feels the cue to walk off and says his farewells. As he walks off, back on course to his intended destination, his head is filled with questions. Most important of them being when he would see her again.

Cate and Y/N watch him walk towards the football fields. They see him meet with a group of men and it seems like they’re there to practice or play a game. Y/N couldn’t be sure.

“He likes you!” Cate finally bursts out.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Stop trying to make me take the piss. That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

“It’s not! He likes you and you obviously like him, I mean, but we been knew.”

“Having a crush on the famous Harry Styles when you’re 17 is different than me liking my neighbour Harry.”

“But you like him don’t you? He’s even better than he was when he was 19. Now he’s all grown up and established and more your style anyway.”

“Shut up! He could hear you.”

“He really couldn't, he's yards away, you’re just paranoid.” Cate continues to tease and ridicule her best friend over Harry and Y/N is just about ready to up and leave, but she also can’t help but laugh it off.

“I’m literally gonna kick you out if you keep talking,” Y/N says between laughs and the women feel like they’re back in high school losing their minds over the stupidest joke ever.

“Okay, fine. But all I have to say is I will hold this over you when you end up together.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, whatever. Just be prepared to wait forever because I can promise you Harry Styles and I are never ending up together.”

Two Weeks Later

Y/N walked to her door after hearing the doorbell ring and opened it to find her neighbour standing with his arm raised ready to knock.

“Hey, Harry,” She greeted easily, but not entirely sure why he was here.

They hadn’t really seen each other since their official meeting in the park. It hadn’t bothered her and it hadn’t really bothered Harry either. It seemed like they both had extremely busy lives that they didn’t plan on throwing out the window because they had said they would meet up at some point. She liked that.

Harry had come over because he finally had a break in his schedule and was hoping to talk about the jacket and anything else really. He was interested in getting to know her and he didn’t care to hide it.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go get a coffee or something?” He asked, leaning himself against her door frame now.

Her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen a little bit, not completely sure she heard him correctly.

“Right now?!” She asked incredulously.

She was wearing an oversized grey sweatshirt and black bike shorts that peaked out from underneath the sweatshirt hem. One of her socks was shoved around her ankle while the other was pulled up flat to touch the base of her calf. She didn’t think she was looking the most presentable at the moment. She had been basking in her day off by simply laying on the couch watching hours of Netflix.

He nods, his smile growing on his face. Her flustered expression only made him happier. She was always so nonchalant with him, he wanted to see her a little more antsy.

“Unless you’re busy,” he adds seriously, not wanting to bother her, just wanting to spend time with her.

“No, no. I’m not...I’m not busy. I just wasn’t expecting any plans where I would be required to go out in public. Let me just...um, come inside and then give me five minutes.”

“Sure,” Harry smiles again as he steps into her home.

Her smile is sheepish and much less genuine then the one Harry holds on his face as he takes in her abode. She tells him to make himself comfortable and then runs to her room to try and possibly fix her state in under five minutes.

She tears around her room, heaving off the frumpy sweatshirt and grabbing a long sleeve striped v-neck top she had hanging out half out of her hamper, a sign known to her that while it was clean enough to wear, if she happened to do laundry she should wash it. Slipping it over her head, she walks to her dresser and leans over to open the bottom drawer and unfolds a pair of dark wash oversized jeans. There’s no holes in them and she throws them on the bed so that she can slip out of her current pants. Next, onto the socks, she swaps out the current ones for a fresh black pair and finds her tortoise print boots to flick on. As she just about runs into her en suite bathroom, she zips the two boots up between steps. A quick comb through her hair, deodorant, two spritz of perfume, her eyelash curler and mascara and she’s running back to where Harry is waiting in her living room.

He blinks surprisedly at her promptness, usually giving people more time then what they say they need. She had indeed gotten ready in five minutes. He thought she looked breathtaking. And she felt like she was at a lack for breath in any case.

“It’s a bit cold out,” he glances to the window.

“Isn’t it always?” She smiles, finally catching her breath.

He chuckles and then nods, a smile appearing on his face as he feels a warmth in his chest at her wit.

“Ready?” He checks in.

She nods, grabbing a coat she kept hung by the door.

“Just the coffee shop down the way?” She inquires as they exit the house and she locks the door behind her.

Harry hums, waiting down a step for her to turn around and walk beside him. It was so strange to her, this felt all too normal with him. Like he was just a friend who had come to pick her up for coffee, her neighbor, nothing more.

“Did you hear the new season of the Crown is coming out soon?” Harry asks as they walk shoulder to shoulder (technically since her shoulder wasn’t in line with his).

“Really?” She looks at him, “I love that show!”

“Me too,” He looks at her and smiles happily.

“That’s amazing,” she breathes mostly to herself, half about the show and half about how Harry watches television and that he watches one of her favorite shows.

There’s silence. The brisk air pricking their cheeks as they walk down their street. Their puffs of breath create a slight mist of white ahead of them and then quickly dissipates.

Her eyes flit up to Harry’s chiseled jaw and face and she watches him as his eyes carefully and meaningfully take in his surroundings. Was it her turn to take a stab at conversation? It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence but she just wasn’t sure what was going on.

“You play football right?” She says finally as they turn onto the next street that would bring them closer to the café they both frequented.

She remembered seeing him there on several occasions. The tips he left were always overly generous, which she assumed you could do when you were exorbitantly rich. He always smiled when he ordered and knew the baristas by name. His order rarely differed and she hated to admit but she knew his two regulars. His actual “regular” was a 12 ounce black coffee, dark roast, no cream and no sugar. The other, his “I’ll actually have”, was a 16 ounce iced green tea, no cream and no sugar.

She couldn’t help that she was observant and that when ‘H’ was called at the bar she looked at what was pushed out, patiently waiting for him to come snatch it up with a smile and nod to the workers before he left. Sometimes he’d even smile at her over the lid of his drink as he exited the establishment. It was warm and inviting and she felt good about the twinkle in his eye that never seemed to waver no matter the day.

Now they were going there together and she’d have to pretend like she’d never noticed what he got as a drink.

He responds to her question with another glance at her and a simple “yes”. His hands shove into his pockets and one side of his pink lips quirk up. He continues, “I’m on a local team with some mates. We’re in a little competition with our league. The final match is coming up this Sunday actually...You should come.”

He says it so casually it almost doesn’t catch her off guard. Harry inviting her to his football game, maybe this was going to be her life now. Going to her neighbours football match. Going to Harry Styles’ football match.

“Sunday…” She sounds out, choosing to look out into the distance instead of at him. “What time?”

“Eight.”

“P.M. right?” She responds quickly, worried since she never wakes up that early and rarely before 10 a.m. on the weekends for that matter.

“Of course,” he chuckles.

They’ve come upon the café and he’s quick to grab the handle to open the door and let her go before him. She can’t stop the blush and smile that spread on her face as she ducks her head into the warm and cozy shop. Men had opened doors for her before and she really thought of herself as a strong woman who didn’t need a man for anything, but something about Harry’s action felt especially, and specifically, chivalrous. Why, she had no idea.

Neither of them stop to look at the menu. They were regulars and they both knew that about each other as well. He gestures for her to go first and she mutters her thanks before turning to the patiently waiting barista. She orders and is about to hand over her card when Harry suavely steps in and says, “Don’t worry about it. I invited you with me, I’ll pay.”

It was both completely unexpected and expected at the same time. Knowing she’d never win this fight, she thanked him again, glanced at the man taking her order and then stepped aside. Harry orders his own drink and then pays for both. Today he leaves double the amount he usually leaves for tip, she assumes since it’s two drinks he was paying for.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” She says quietly to him once they’re in a corner of the café waiting for their drinks.

He stands slightly slumped against the wall, closer to her height right now. He only shrugs, his good natured smile not once leaving his face since he entered this place.

“I wanted to,” he said simply right as the drinks were ready since it wasn’t particularly busy on this random Friday afternoon.

They glance outside and see that it’s begun to drizzle while they’ve been inside. She sighs, having hoped to walk around a little after being inside all day.

Instead, they sit at the corner table in the café, across from each other. She moves on from the paying thing, knowing it was simply how this guy probably operated most of his life.

He got a black coffee today, the cold and rain likely contributing to that choice.

As one pop song fades out, slightly under the sound of the coffee machines, she’s about to tell Harry she’s pretty sure she can make his final football match when ‘Cardigan’ fades in. It’s the second time a Taylor Swift song has been playing while she’s been in the presence of Harry and they were conversing. She tries to ignore one of her favorite songs at the moment. Harry doesn’t seem to pay much mind to it. His foot is tapping against his other, but it’s been tapping like that since they sat down.

“I think I could probably make it to your game,” she says finally after a pause and a sip of her own drink.

Harry grins at the response and launches into how great it will be if they win and how happy everyone will be. She smiles along and doesn’t notice the slight head swaying to the song that she’s begun.

“Fan of Taylor?” Harry inquires and Y/N’s face drops, eyes widening cartoonishly.

She stutters, a nervous laugh leaving her mouth before she can actually say something. How does she respond about liking Taylor Swift to a man who counts her as an ex. She’s at a loss.

“Yeah, uh,” she finally starts.

Harry watches her curiously, obviously noticing her discomfort as his question.

“I used to not really consider myself a fan. I don’t really follow her just because I don’t really follow...um...musicians,” she chokes out the last word realizing Harry fits that category. “But, after folklore, I don’t know, this album really spoke to me. I also really like Lover and...uh” she pauses again, sticking on 1989, an album she has argued with her friends about how it’s basically a tell all of the man before her and Taylor’s relationship.

He nods, hoping she’ll continue. He wanted to get to know her and he kind of liked seeing her squirm. “1989?” He finally supplies.

Her blush isn’t able to be covered this time. If her hair didn’t fall in front of her ears she was sure they’d be flushed with blood.

Then she draws out of her own self stress and looks at the smooth man before her and grows calm. He was amazing at winding her up and she didn’t want to seem like some young, impressionable fangirl to him. So, she squared her shoulders and straightened up in her chair.

“Yes, it was pop perfection as one of my college friends liked to say. I’d always listen to it at the gym.” Then she pauses, taking a measured breath, gaining her confidence back. Her eyes meet his, “Is there any songs off it that you particularly enjoy, Mr. Styles.”

He chuckles, mostly because of her emphasis on ‘Style’.

“Shake it off?” He asks.

“Oh fuck off!” She laughs and he joins in with her.

When they catch their breaths from laughing, they simultaneously take sips of their drinks and settle their eyes back on one another. Exes and songs written about oneself weren’t exactly the topics Harry had in mind for the coffee outing he had asked Y/N out on, but talks of exes had never been this funny with anyone else. He was grateful for her playfulness, her demeanor.

“Can I ask you something personal?” She asks quietly and seriously.

“I think we’re past that question, love,” he responds.

“Yeah, I guess,” she pauses and just about whispers, “Pretty much all of them are about you right?”

He shrugs again, his felt coat rustling around his seat. “We never really talked about every single song.”

She leans forward at the ‘we’ Harry is using about himself and Taylor Swift.

“But when I listen to the songs, I hear us in just about every one but a few.”

“Wow,” she breathes and sips her drink. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lived through something that intense and then someone commemorated in a masterpiece.”

“Do you have a favorite on that album?” He asks, moving on from her revelation.

“I love ‘I know places’, it has a cool sound. But I also really love ‘Wonderland’. They both have kind of dark sounds, yet it still is like what you have is so special that the bad bits are worth it. I don’t know, it just seems like a tv show. I don’t think my life could ever be that crazy or dramatic.” She doesn’t notice her use of ‘you’ because she had meant it as a form of analyzing the song theoretically as she had done hundreds of times with her friends, but this time the ‘you’ is literally the ‘you’ the song is talking about.

“Love can turn anyone’s life chaotic.” Harry muses.

The green eye’s that flashed at Taylor throughout that album look at Y/N from across the table and she feels a flip in her stomach at his tone.

Maybe he notices her mild discomfort, maybe that’s just who he is. But after a beat, Harry’s onto the next topic on his mind. He launches into how he’s just returned from Scotland for a shoot for something so undercover he can’t even divulge to her, much to his dismay. She’s taken aback since she didn’t consider her someone Harry would divulge any of his private matters to, but it seemed like he already considered her a confidant. Just not for that. He wants it to be a surprise.

She smiles and listens attentively. She wonders as he goes on about his interesting yet absurdly lavish life whether he even knows what regular life is like anymore. Or if he’d even enjoy it if he experienced it.

Sure, coffee and football were plenty part of regular life . But the football league was something novel to Harry. He had just gotten to do it and he was thrilled by its normalcy.

She regarded him carefully, unsure what the next step was in this budding friendship. Was it dangerous to get involved with someone’s life which seemed to be filled with whirlwind rigor and constant change.

She liked her chaos, don’t get her wrong. She felt like she often was the odd one out in life. Always thinking differently than the ones around her. She often was the one to suggest spontaneous late night trips around town or exploration of an abandoned building known for spooky stories. She liked inviting friends over for themed parties for no specific occasions and she liked taking film pictures of friends like they were models even though it was only for her and her memories. She thought of herself as silly and fun, but what Harry described as his chaotic fun actually was regimented tight schedules of constant travel and work. Interesting experiences came out of that constant travel and work, but didn’t seem like something she necessarily wanted to get herself wrapped up in.

After coffee, they leave the café and it’s pouring now. Instead of going home, Harry insists on walking her to her place. She relents, realizing, once again, that Harry wasn’t someone who took ‘no’ for an answer. She then invites him in because it’s the polite thing to do. And Harry being Harry accepts.

“Want a dry sweatshirt while you wait?” She asks as she slips off her wet shoes and jacket in the entryway. Harry follows suit, his knit sweater being pelted with rain for the last eight minutes left him feeling cold and shivery.

He nods as he toes off his shoes and ventures back to the living room she had him wait in a few hours ago.

“Here,” She says as she tosses a grey sweatshirt in his direction. She believes it's her one from earlier, an innocuous pullover with ‘London’ in collegiate lettering on the front. He catches it as she rounds the corner to turn up the heater.

Her mistake was being so careless to not look at the sweatshirt before handing it over to her neighbor. Anyone else, maybe they wouldn’t have questioned it. But Harry, how could he not.

“What’s this?”

“A sweatshirt,” she doesn’t spare him a glance on the coach as she fiddles with the thermostat.

“It’s one of my sweatshirts,” Harry says and she can hear the smile on his face.

“That’s impossible, I’ve never borrowed-” Her brows had raised at what he said but now her words fall short.

He didn’t mean one of his personal sweatshirts that she possibly borrowed if they were better friends. No. He meant his merchandise.

“It was a gift,” she sighs as she turns to face him. He’s now wearing the sweatshirt proudly and grinning up at her smugly.

She rolls her eyes when he gives her a knowing smile.

“I didn’t know that it was the one I was handing you. Honest!”

“I thought you didn’t “keep up” with musicians,” Harry says playfully, his fingers making quotes appropriately.

“I don’t.” Her tone is serious as she plops on the couch beside Harry.

“I enjoy your music from time to time. Is that a crime?!” She finally exclaims when she can’t handle Harry’s knowing smirk.

“No it’s not, you could have just told me you were a fan!” She tries to stop him and protest that she wouldn’t consider herself a fan, but he continues, “I still would have wanted to have been friends.You’re one of the liveliest neighbors I’ve got. Everyone else on the street is rather dull.”

She chuckles, remembering finding out quickly that the street wasn’t a lively bunch.

“I just wouldn’t say I’m a fan,” she presses and sits across from him.

He continues smiling like he knows the truth.

“I don’t think you’ve met an average person in awhile, Harry.” She finally says after they sat in silence for a few minutes because they were both too stubborn to be the first to talk.

“I would hardly call you average if that’s what you’re implying, Y/N.” He nods her way and he shifts on her plush couch, his legs adjusting themselves on their own accord. “And I know plenty of average people,” he adds huffily.

“I normally wouldn’t either, but compared to who you seem to surround yourself, I very much am. And that’s not meant to be a jab at anyone involved.”

His right hand sneaks up to his head to scratch at the base of a particularly perfect curl. His eyes squint a bit as his mind processes her claim.

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’m just curious to see if you’d actually like me in your life. It seems like you want to be friends with me and that’s great, but realistically I don’t know how much I would fit into it.”

Harry scoffs, “That’s literally bullshit, just relax. I’m so chill you won’t even know what to do with me.”

Now it’s her turn to scoff. “Chill?!” She asks incredulously. Harry nods with a seriousness she hadn’t seen before.

“When’s the next time you’re flying off to another country for work?”

Harry pauses, “Um...the day after the final match. I’m beginning to film a movie, so I’ll be there for a month.”

“Busy bee,” she muses and they both chuckle.

There’s something about the somber look Harry is giving her. His eyes twinkled in the coffee shop and with playful winks she was excited to be in his presence. But after she mentions when his next trip is, he seems saddened. There’s skepticism behind his eyes and maybe he doesn’t like being challenged about who he is from other people, especially those who are new in his life.

But that’s who Y/N is, she’s straightforward and doesn’t lie to someone. If Harry was now her friend, she was going to tell it like it is to him. That personality trait she worried wouldn’t make her long for his world.

“So the cardigan? Do you have it here?” Harry changes the subject, clearly not wanting to actually consider a realistic friendship together instead just charging ahead with no hesitation. Whatever happened they would deal with it as it came. Maybe she should just go with the flow, let herself be swept up into his madness. Maybe it would be easier than fighting it.

“No.”

“Oh?”

“I do, I was joking. Where else would it be?” Her tone is light, trying to get back the shine she had seen Harry exhibit before it had vanished.

Maybe that was Harry’s effect on people. He was vibrant and like an Elton John song. You never wanted that shine to go away, never wanted the song to end. Never wanted him to stop shining his light on you. She felt this happening in just a few hours with him. When he was happy so was she and when he wasn’t entirely shining she wanted to do whatever she could to get it back.

A smile curls on his face and his green eyes narrow slightly. He’s trying to figure her out, know what she’s all about.

“Do you want to go and grab it?” His voice sweetening, almost like a tease. Maybe he means to bite his lip, maybe he doesn’t, but the effect on her is nonetheless earthshaking.

She pops up and smiles back, happy to have made him happy. As she walks out of the room to go get the cardigan that had started this all, her head tilts and she furrows her brow wondering why she felt such a sense of pride just for making him happy.

Would this man cause her to finally put someone else’s wishes ahead of hers?

“Are you on your way?”

She listens to Harry’s slightly worried voice crackle over the speaker of her phone as she shuts her door with the hand not holding her phone to her ear. His voice is raspy and muffled. She assumes it’s from the cold air of London at night and the scarf he is likely got wrapped around his neck.

“Yes! Jeez, I’m on my way. Walking over right now.”

It’s the final match for Harry’s football team and if they win the game then they get a trophy and it’s all Harry has been talking about since they got coffee and she handed over her cardigan.

Harry huffed an “alright” on the other side of the line and she called a “see you soon” before hanging up.

He was both eager for Y/N to come and possibly meet some of his teammates and a few of his close friends who he had invited and for her to arrive so that she wasn’t walking out late at night alone. He hadn’t known her for long, but he felt a certain protectiveness over her. She was relatively alone here, only two friends at work that she had mentioned and everyone else lived far away. She said she didn’t mind it, but Harry had a hard time understanding it since he surrounded himself with his friends as much as he could and was constantly either traveling or having them travel to see him.

He had even contemplated inviting her to come to Los Angeles with him for a month, but knew she would remind him of her ever important job that she couldn’t just randomly take a month off.

He’d have to ask her what exactly she did because every time he tried to remember, it always slipped his mind.

When her figure came into sight below the fluorescent lights, he breathed a sigh of relief. A grin spread on his face as she beamed at him and waved a bit. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t see how special she was. Every time he saw her he felt himself straighten up and feel a bubbling in his chest. Her smile was infectious and the way her eyes glittered when she looked away quickly and then returned eye contact made him want to stay in her presence forever.

“You made it!” Harry said and scooped her up in his arms, not realizing just how happy he was to see her, swinging her around in a half circle.

She laughs in surprise, but appreciates the warmth Harry’s hug offers her. She’s not quite sure they had ever touched each other before this moment beside shoulder brushes and hand touches. Nothing so...purposeful.

“I made it,” she confirms and pats him on his broad shoulders.

Questions in her mind raced as she questioned whether it was normal for friendships to happen like this. She knew in college friendships could happen this quickly. And that’s when it dawned on her, she really hadn’t made a new friend since college and that was why everything with Harry was so odd to her. She had forgotten what new friendship was. She needed to stop questioning everything and just live in the moment with a person she really liked being with.

Harry’s hands move from her waist and one stays to lead her forward so he can introduce her to some of his mates, as he had promised.

She felt at home in that moment. His hand on the small of her back, his heat radiating off of him and her hair swept behind her ears and her cheek pressed to his shoulder staring up at him sweetly.

She meets Charlotte, a member of Harry’s band who lives in London, her boyfriend, Mitch (who had just happened to find himself in Hampstead this weekend), Ben, and a few more people she couldn’t remember all the names of.

Harry’s team wins the game and Y/N’s not sure if she’s ever seen someone so happy to win an adult league football match. There wasn’t any official trophy except the one Harry had made himself and said he would even give to the other team if they won. It was engraved with the words “The World’s Greatest Football Team of Stars Ever. October 22, 2020”. It doesn’t even make sense but she’d been holding it for the entire night as he played.

He goes down the line of his friends who have been watching and gives them all jubilant kisses on the lips. When he reaches Y/N she holds out the trophy and he grins and gives her a kiss on the cheek. His lips are surprisingly soft and his scratchy stubble tickles her and she swiftly pulls back, a smile on her face and blush on her cheeks nonetheless.

Charlotte and Mitch share a look between the two of them and Ben’s eyes narrow slightly at the interaction. His eyes narrow just as they had when Harry had strutted over to the group with Y/N before the game. He had happily named everyone and she had shaken all of their hands with a warm smile on her lips. Ben had regarded her warily and she had shaken it off as the chill of the night air. But there it was again, not quite trusting of the neighbour girl Harry had just randomly befriended a few days ago.

The team and the friends of the team decide they deserve to celebrate this win, mostly at the request of Harry.

Y/N tries to find a time to leave, to return to her place so she can prepare for her day at work tomorrow. But no excuses will be heard from Harry and she has a hard time saying no to his sparkling eyes and gorgeous grin that she’s growing far too accustomed to.

She’s ushered down to the closest pub with the rest of them and finds herself chatting with Charlotte’s boyfriend. He’s the most...normal. She’s not sure how to explain it, but he doesn’t seem to be regarding her as different, unlike every other one of Harry’s friends. They were all perfectly nice and cordial with her, but she just felt like she wasn’t a part of their group, their world and she didn’t know how to explain it.

Charlotte and Mitch are rather nice too, but they’re more reserved with her. They’re musicians, like Harry, and they somewhat have that air of awareness around them that Harry sometimes gets. She thinks it’s from the fame, having to constantly be wary of who is around you, what everyone is doing, what is happening next. She doesn’t mind it, it’s just not something she’s used to.

She wishes she could just throw back some drinks and she could allow herself to be more...well just be more. More of a presence, more of herself, but she has a job she has to get to bright and early. Tomorrow was Monday and for her that meant work. So she sips a beer that Harry insisted be on his tab and she makes small talk with Charlotte’s boyfriend about how he’s been helping her produce her first EP. Charlotte occasionally pops in when she hears her name, but mostly is conversing with Mitch over something silly. Y/N knows because they keep laughing.

Harry is going around to just about everyone in the party and she watches as he happily talks with every one of his friends. He’s ecstatic and she wonders if she’s ever experienced happiness like he has.

At midnight she attempts to make a French exit, as her mother always called it, and slip away with little to no farewells, but Harry spots her before she can.

“You’re leaving already?” Harry asks loudly, the euphoria of winning his silly little game and drinking a fair amount of pints has him at his peak boisterity.

“I have work tomorrow,” she says warily, slumping slightly from the weight of Harry’s arm slinging around her shoulder.

He turns serious and straightens up slightly, his green eyes looking especially dark in the pubs dim lighting as they look her dead in the eye. “Let me walk you home.”

“I can get home by myself,” she laughs, shrugging off his hold. “Plus, the host can’t leave his own celebration.” She gestures to everyone else happily celebrating on a Sunday, somehow not bothered by the beginning of the average week.

He steps closer, his brow furrowing for the first time that night. One of his large hands raises to his tousled hair and he runs it through the tresses. He even nibbles at his lower lip as he contemplates his decision. Then quickly and suddenly, he makes up his mind,

“No, I’ll escort you. Can’t have my neighbour walk home this late alone. I’ll just leave my card with Mitch. He’ll settle up the tab.” He smiles at his perfect plan and she grimaces feeling slightly embarrassed that he would leave his friends to walk her home. “Won’t you Mitch?” Harry calls as he grabs his coat from the wall next to the door. Mitch simply nods and Harry yells his farewells, Y/N waves meekly.

“That was...interesting,” she mulls over her words as they walk through the cold night air outside of the pub.

“Amazing, right?” Harry speaks over her less enthusiastic voice.

“You have a lot of friends,” she mused, trying to sound less disheartened than she had in her last statement.

Harry only hums and shivers slightly from the cold. His breath comes clearly out in puffs in the cold night air. Y/N’s is muffled by her scarf wrapped tightly up to her chin. She’s tucked his face as far into it as possible but her nose won’t stop from freezing as they walk.

Her hand goes up to it and she rests her palm to the tip of it. The motion grabs Harry’s attention and he looks directly at her curiously.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m freezing,” she muffles out, “This helps my cold nose not be so..cold.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulder and she easily folds into him, welcoming any warmth right now.

After another moment of silence and them enjoying each other’s warmth and slight smell of whatever perfumes they had chosen earlier that night as well as beer and wood of the pub, Harry nuzzles his head above hers and then asks her something.

“Was that overwhelming for you?”

She’s quiet, thankful his eyes can’t reach hers right now. He was too powerful with those things.

“I, um, a little. I just...I just realized today that I haven’t made a new friend since college outside of work and it was overwhelming just hanging out with you. So all of your friends as well, yeah, it was a bit much for me.”

Harry looks out at the empty street ahead of them and sighs in realization. In his excitement, he hadn’t accounted how she might have felt tonight until just now. He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of her feelings, but other’s feelings slipped his mind so easily sometimes.

They round their street corner and she nuzzles back into his side.

“I’m sorry, love.” He rubs at her outer arm, “I didn’t think about it like that. I was just so excited for my plan to come together. Maybe next time, it’ll just be a couple of them rather than so many?”

“Sure,” she says quickly, wanting to make him happy, knowing how much he cared about his friends. “I feel like we need to hang out more with just you before I osmos into your friend group though if I’m being honest.”

“Well that can definitely be arranged,” he says and reluctantly lets go of her body. They’ve arrived at her door.

“I also want to see the inside of your house at some point.” She tugs at one of his hands before it can disappear into his warm coat pocket. “Houses,” she corrects.

“That can also be arranged,” Harry smiles with his lips closed. Pink lips and rosy cheeks extra bright from the cold. He plays with her fingers as the two stand close to one another, happy for the alone time and chalking the proximity up to heat sharing.

“You leave tomorrow right?” She finally asks.

His head falls and he sighs.

“Yeah…”

“It’s just a month,” she smiles, trying to stop Harry from being so dramatic. Especially when there was no logical reason for him to be so upset over not seeing his neighbour - she keeps telling herself.

“Are you sure you can’t quit your job and just fly out with me?” He pleads.

She throws her head back in laughter and shifts closer to him, her front porch light illuminating and shadowing every perfect place on Harry’s gorgeous face.

“Not even a chance.”

“That is a shame,” he takes an experimental step closer and she feels his breath fan across her cheeks at his last word.

She wrinkles his nose at the smell of his last beer, even though coming from him it was endearing.

Just as she feels him being to shift his head closer, she steps forward and gives him a tight hug.

“Goodnight Harry,” she whispers into his ear, “Safe travels.”

Then she’s stepping back and swiftly unlocking her door. She moves it slowly so as to not wake Rori and then Harry’s left alone and dumbfounded on her doorstep.

He definitely preferred being with her alone, but now he didn’t even have that chance until next month. And nonetheless she had just sidestepped his kiss with such ease he’s not even sure if he meant to kiss her. It had felt right, but why? Because it was cold and picture perfect? Or because he was enchanted by her and liked her as more than a new friend?

She slumps in her kitchen and fixes an Emergen-C to stave off the chill of the night and any germs that might have been lurking around the pub. She hopes when she walks to her bedroom she can check the front porch and see that Harry has gone home because she would hate to turn the light off on him.

How could he have expected her to kiss him just then? They’ve only just met each other a few weeks ago? And he’s Harry Styles and she just lives in the neighbourhood. What the actual fuck had happened to her life?

2K notes · View notes

sapphire-knight · 4 years ago

Text

You guys are giving me way too much power by letting me talk about acting

@minecant you wanted me to rant about Techno and Wilbur's acting? Well, you asked for it

Let's start with Techno bc I realized something this morning and I cannot get it out of my head, let's go.

Techno has a really peculiar way of acting compared to anyone else, his character is a lot more aware of the fourth wall than any other character is, and actually having to keep in check a character that, to certain acting degrees, could be almost considered self-aware is actually harder than you can imagine, and of course everything that's kinda hard in scripted acting goes to a whole new level of difficoult in improv; but on the other hand, his type of acting (more specifically: the voice acting) is on the same page of 3 other characters: Tubbo, Fundy and Niki. Follow me on this, alright? The basically only thing that these 4 characters, that narratively are so different from each other,is the way they are voiced. All four of then have a really specific way of talking and talking pattern, to the point where even if you were to put the voices in a voice-changer you could still know what character is talking just because of the way they talk. Let me elaborate: Fundy usually his voice doesn't let a lot of emotions through and his speech is usually straight to the point, keeping his tone medium and trying to keep his voice relaxed; Niki's usual tone is soft and lighter, is easy to not hear it with her low tone of voice and higher pitch that give her a kinder undertone; Tubbo's tone is also one in a softer scale and lower of volume, but where Niki is easy to miss Tubbo lets a bit more emotion in all phrases to make himself pop out, he doesn't tend to go straight to the point in conversations and his tone is pretty much constant; Techno doesn't let emotions shine through his voice, more like Fundy, but to the extreme, keeping a completly monotone type of speech in basically all the situations and isn't very talkative, a character that talks one when he feels like it's needed and goes straight to the point of the conversation, not caring how that makes him come across to the other characters.

These 4 have incredibly set in stone characters, keeping always to their own set of acting rules for them. It's not easy to set yourself acting rules for your characters in an improv, but if you manage to do it's an in incredible help. Even Wilbur's character was more unhinged under that point of view, his "standard" continuing to change slightly as his mental stage declined.

But you know where does the actual strenght of having these things set in stone for your characters? That the emotions are a lot more powerfull. Let's think about it, why most of the emotive scene shock us? You can usually feel the emotions because the tone of voice lets these emotions through, it hits you because it wasn't there before, it's a switch between the usual voice and the emotive one, it gives you whiplash, but why am I talking about this?

Because these characters are able to express their emotions with a lot more power, because they always talk in a really specific way, you get used ti their tone and speech pattern without noticing it, so you maybe not actually understand it, but your brain notices when the pattern breaks, and since it is a really set in stone one, when it gets broken the whiplash is extreme. Just like when Niki rebelled against Schlatt, the whiplash was her raising her voice and abandoning the soft tone she always used, but kept the classic amount of emotions in her voice, the same thing happens with Techno and his speech: some emotions start to get throught, he doesn't get to the point quickly as always, instead he keeps on talking with extreme confidence in every word, the same confidence he always has. Whiplash guys, whiplash.

I didn't mention Quackity as one of the set-in-stone-speaking characters, because he switches too much to set the rules enough to shock when broken. I'm not saying at all that he isn't a good actor, on the contrary, his acting just works on different bases, example, Try looking at the Quackity vs Schlatt argument compared to the Tubbo vs Tommy: when Quackity got angry it wasn't expected, it was a bit alienating, it didn't feel like the Quackity we know because it was incredibly different than how his character speaks, too different (Which still isn't bad, at all, that scene was phenomenal); when Tubbo got angry it still felt like Tubbo, you could still pinpoint it was Tubbo even without hearing his voice, because even if the voice is raised, the amount of emotions is the same and the speech pattern is the same, just to the next level. So yeah.

I don't even feel like talking about Techno's lines tho, these are amazing under every technical point of view and you guys know that, so let's go to Wilbur.

Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilbur, where can I begin with Wilbur? Not only he had an extraordinary arc for his own character, he also wrote an incredible story- this guy's voice acting is off the charts in every way possible, are you telling me he didn't take acting classes as a kid? i do not believe you. Like, at all. He has a perfect hang on his voice, but this could be because he's also a singer: expressing emotions during songs is harder than you think, because you cannot let emotions ruin your exibition by making your voice crack at the wrong part or making you mess up the timing, but you also need to let them shine through or the voice will seem flat and Wil knows that perfectly, just listen to Your City gave me asthma and you'll understand what I'm going on about here.

Wilbur Soot is a showman. He manovrated the stage to shine a spotlight on himself, making us see what he wants us to see: that's why it took us so much to realize that the character didn't just "go insane" out of nowhere, the seeds were always there, we had all the hints we needed, but he was able to move his character around it, around the arc, in such a way that made us overlook all of those details until they slapped us in the face. He showed us the consequences of his character through other characters, he acted and spoke in a certain way to get a reaction from the others, and the others reacted in the exact way Wilbur planned. And those things aren't scrpited, only major plotpoints are. Wheter this was intentional on his part or it was a coincidence it's not clear, but in either cases it's still pure skill and genius.

Wilbur knew how to act and interact with every character, it's impressive

He even knew how to get Dream on his act on the festival narrative, Dream isn't always top notch at improv and we know that, but if he can get in the loop he is absolutely a distructive force, it's terrifying, and Wilbur knew exactly what to do to get Dream inside the loop of events and it's incredible.

You could guess he knew how to act with Tommy, Tubbo, Ph1lza, Techno and Schlatt, of course he did, he already knew them, but right now he has an incredibly difficoult bit with someone I would have never guessed if I didn't watch the SMP, with Fundy. I have not been in the fandom for a lot of time, but it seems like the two actually met each other on the SMP. They are carrying and incredibly emotional taxing bit with each other, and the SMP lore started just this year- more or less 7/8 months I think? Correct me if I'm wrong. The story bit these two are on is a delicate one, one wrong step and the situation explodes. The fact that they are capable to carrying it even without having known each other for a long time is honestly impressive. Things like this are incredibly hard even when scripted, in improv usually only people who blindly trusted each other for a long time are able to carry it, meanwhile Wilbur and Fundy are flawlessly running with this story arc, the character interactions are perfect, ever act, every word is so incredibly in character for both of them, in scenes like this having to keep perfect track of your character is hard, you have to concentrate on the scene, you cannot stop to think about it, you have only one take and you cannot afford to slow down the act or you risk losing the atmosphere and the momentum of it, and if you do that you'e screwed, you lost an entire scene. In improv you cannot afford slipping up, but if you actually do you have to be incredibly quick to catch yourself, lose two seconds too many and the moment is broken.

Wilbur Soot is incredibly quick to adapt his acting to ever change in his character, having to jump from the power hungry, driven crazy, obsessive, unhinged, paranoid character that is Wilbur to the sad, guilty, scared, repressed, just-wanting-to-be-happy, forgetfull, ignoring character that is Ghostbur is not something easy. Like, at all. It's a cspital switch, and he did it from a day to the other like it's nothing.

Mr Soot please leave some talent to the rest of us come on-

#sapphire rants #sapphire talks. don't listen to her #long post #dream smp #dream smp season 2 #technoblade #niki nihachu #Tubbo #Tommyinnit #it's fundy #Fundy #dreamwastaken #Wilbur soot #you guys should stop giving me this much power before I end up ranting abou Eret; Quackity; Schlatt; Tommy and Ranboo's acting oh my gosh #THE ACTING RANTS

639 notes · View notes

purgeturbia · 3 years ago

Text

GOING TO TALK ABOUT STYLISTIC VOCAL CHOICES REAL QUICKLY PLEASE EXCUSE ME WHILE I NERD OUT

k So. this is something i’m a huge fan of because it totally changes the tone of a song when it’s used and it just so happens that many of my favorite artists are very skilled at it, which probably explains why i like them so much.

what i’ve noticed is that there’s a difference between singing quietly because that’s what the dynamic markings in the sheet music call for and singing quietly because you’re restraining yourself. like something bigger is going to happen and you need to save your strength for it. or like something bigger could happen but it shouldn’t.

(this is hella long. like, almost 2k words long. so the rest is under the cut)

first place i noticed this was actually with wilbur soot’s vocals on the fall, from lovejoy’s ep pebble brain. in his first (solo) album, your city gave me asthma, wilbur was pretty consistent with singing quietly just for the sake of singing quietly. which is why it was quite surprising when in the fall he busted out this new technique. the fall is an angry song, generally. anger at british politicians, anger at the world. but the first verse is sung piano/mezzo piano, so upon first listen it just sounds kind of contemplative. however. it is very much so not contemplative. you can actively hear in wilbur’s voice how he’s holding himself back. how he has more to give but he’s not giving it, which really drives home the contrast when at the end of the song he’s literally just screaming into the microphone.

he had feelings! he had so many feelings the whole song but they meant so much more because he didn’t let them all out in the open until the end. (and moving away from vocals for a second because this Also deserves recognition -- the instrumentals for a lot of the song are really minimal and tend toward being staccato, which just adds to the feeling of holding back because every chord sounds like it’s being cut off). the contrast is also so much more beautiful because while wilbur’s vocals aren’t often incredibly loud, on lovejoy’s music so far they’ve never been this quiet. there’s a reason for them being as reserved as they are and damn does it pay off. there’s a reason why the fall is so many people’s favorite song off the ep (it is for me only second to it’s all futile! it’s all pointless! for reasons of iafiap is really good).

second place is actually with dodie. she is so much more a quiet singer than she is a loud one, so this one is definitely not as obvious, but. it’s there and it Works. we’re gonna go ahead and disregard her more upbeat pop-style stuff for this because it’s not as quiet and doesn’t really have any effect on the Vibe Difference i want to talk about, but i do want to note that every song they’ve ever released is a banger go listen to it right now this is the law thank you. anyway. there’s a difference between her vocals in songs like arms unfolding, soft and cozy and mildly depressing, and songs like i kissed someone (it wasn’t you) and human. the latter two songs are definitely more on the restrained end of the spectrum. it’s the difference between talking to your best friend on the couch at 1 am, just having fun, and telling them your biggest secret.

it’s the difference between sharing the parts of you that are sad and lonely and yearning but overall nice and digestible, vs. sharing the parts of you that people usually don’t want to hear about. the parts that aren’t so nice. the parts that hurt to say and hurt to look at. the difference in tone is what makes you understand that human isn’t just a normal love song -- it’s about being fucked up and codependent. their choice to use restraint here is part of what makes their music have actual Variety instead of all just sounding the same (which is so frustratingly common in the World of Modern Music TM). because of her general style this is a way more subtle difference and i also could be making it up BUT assuming it was on purpose and i just got lucky enough to notice that she is a Genius (which, like. she is anyway BUT U GET WHAT IM SAYING) i feel like it fits the discussion here.

and for the grand finale let us talk about my favorite incredibly talented music wizards or whichever sufficiently mystical way you would like to refer to them: the amazing devil. i’m gonna focus my discussion on ruin (the album, but also later the song) for this one, simply because i don’t even need to talk about any of the rest of their discography to get my point across, but know that this does happen in other places and it does emotionally destroy me every other time it happens as well. so!

something i adore about this particular example is that joey motherfucking batey is so goddamn talented that he uses different levels of restraint within the same fucking song (is that song nine minutes long? yes. doesn’t matter. still unfair of him). i am of course talking about the old witch sleep and the good man grace. holy Shit what a song. anyway. in The Beginning, joey’s doing his thing, singing about how he’s way cooler than the weird shadow people, and he’s quiet, which is, like dodie, pretty normal for him. yeah he goes feral, but also fair exists. so.

but the part that gets me! is that you can tell something’s coming. you know he’s about to go apeshit. you can just feel it in the way his every note is so measured and the tempo is so carefully controlled. the restraint is so potent -- that kind of calm can’t and won’t last forever. and then the explosion comes so suddenly and you’ve known it was coming and the first few times you listen to the song it still scares you because the first verse was so careful. so quiet. so joey’s got his couple minutes of being feral as all get-out, and then. oh, and Then -- let’s bury this.

this is restrained on a whole different level. before this, joey and wilbur had been playing the same game. restrain your voice now, keep things measured and short and even, so that when you let go later it’s felt a thousand times more. now, though, now shit’s gotten real. it’s like graduating from playing tic-tac-toe and going straight to fucking five-grid sudoku. joey batey is not here to mess around. he’s here to make you his bitch, actually, and you’re gonna fucking know it, literally just because of his technique. what the fuck. this is restrained because he’s scaring the shit out of you and he doesn’t need to be loud and angry to do it. this is restrained because he wants you to know that when he lets go you’re gonna regret everything you ever did to get in this situation. can you tell i think he’s a musical genius? anyway. mans wants blood. and he’s far more loose with the tempo, with the dynamics, even with the notes -- they’re sliding all over the place now, and the jumps are more random too. but his tone is still restrained. he’s still holding back and you know it and then you know it even more because he goes feral again at the end and it’s oh such a beautiful payoff i could LIVE in those few measures! i could live in any of their music but that’s beside the point.

so i’m kind of getting off my own track here with this one but i want to also draw attention to how IMMEDIATELY after the old witch sleep and the good man grace we have ruin, which is just. the Most emotionally devastating song i have possibly ever listened to (aside from actually dodie’s when -- the studio version, which destroys me every time i listen to it). but we aren’t here to talk about how good ruin is because i already did that and nobody wants to hear it a second time. we are here, however, to talk about how the emotional fucking whiplash of this album comes not only from the order of the songs but Also from the tone change. madeleine (she’s here now! hell yeah!) starts singing and you get none of the restraint that joey had literally a minute and a half ago. yeah it’s quiet and also depressing as fuck, but her voice just kind of floats. she’s making the sound soft and close-feeling without necessarily holding anything back, if that makes sense. the dynamics and the vocal tone aren’t what cause the build-up in this song; it’s the accompaniment and the chord progression and the harmonies and the LYRICS, the Fucking lyrics.

also, if we back up a couple steps -- immediately preceding the old witch sleep and the good man grace is chords, which also is just So painful. chords is kind of a balance between towsatgmg and ruin, which i think is so valuable because to go from that balance to the extreme ends of the spectrum with absolutely zero buffer really emphasizes the contrast. you hear what a normal fucking song sounds like and then you hear Absolutely Feral Joey Batey and then immediately the We Are Going to Make You Cry (A Lot) duo. and chords is the same as ruin where there’s not any particular restraint, but it does have a lot more tonal contrast in general and that’s what makes it the middle ground.

(one note really quickly lol -- i am so aware that it sounds like i’m just taking dynamic contrast and blowing it out of proportion but i Promise it’s not just that i just somehow don’t know enough of the actual technical words for what i’m talking about to explain it properly so pls excuse me for that)

IN CONCLUSION (or, a terrible TL;DR): my favorite musical artists are all so talented that i was forced (yes, forced) to write 1.7k words about one specific talent that they all share and use way too many parentheses and irregular capitalizations to get my point across. wilbur soot is the only one of these artists who will use tonal differences expertly but not to make you cry. yet. the bitches at the academy better nominate build a problem for a grammy. and it better win. and also joey batey is an evil, evil man but i hope he and madeleine are both having the best day always (but also i’m mad at them. but also i love them). i do not have enough free time to have written this. i wrote 1.5k words of this in one sitting. i need more people who will listen to me talk about music. please listen to all of these artists. MUSICIANS U GOTTA THINK ABOUT THE EMOTIONS AND THE INTENT AND THE IMAGERY BEFORE U JUST START SINGING WORDS BECAUSE UR SONG IS GONNA SUCK IF YOU DON’T SOUND LIKE YOU MEAN IT. that is all. thank u.

#the amazing devil #lovejoy #wilbur soot #dodie #so uh. hey guys intro to my music taste here #basically it's #Extremely Indie indie artists #who are also english #and do/have done a lot of their promotion on youtube #thrilled to be able to tag them all in the same post :)#unlike most of my other long posts i have slightly edited this one!#but in exchange for that it's super fucking long so sorry lmao #can u guys tell im a choir kid #it's been a hot sec but i still get way too into analyzing vocal technique lol #ok anyway if you got this far into the tags thank you for reading them and also if you read the whole post thank u <3 #holy Shit #my writing #words i like #this is going in that tag fuck u

27 notes · View notes

dreamsmpclips · 3 years ago

Text

just a boy with an acoustic guitar :]

stream title - “Your City Gave me Asthma (1 year celebration)” streamed july 13, timestamp 1:00:13

yt vod title - same as above (uploaded by the channel Dream SMP VODS)

TRANSCRIPT (& lyrics):

Wilbur: I wasn’t a singer, I was just a—I was just a boy with an acoustic guitar. And I still am! I still am just a boy with an acoustic guitar, so. And I used to—remember I used to lose over...90% of my viewership. And I mean that, like I used to have about 800 viewers by the end. My mods will remember, my mods will remember this. And um—uh—so.

To be sat here right now, going for an hour of just music, and I haven’t dipped below one hundred and thirty thousand people...is, fucking humbling as hell. And thats not ‘cause of me, I haven’t done anything man, that’s ‘cause of you. That’s ‘cause of you sat here and watching, uh. ‘Cause I—I—I’m just playing music, you—you’re the—you’re the—you’re the fucking weirdos that enjoy it. *laughs* So, um, I’m going to play you a song. Uh, a song that I know most of you will enjoy. For sure. Doesn’t matter, you’ll all like it. Ready?

[He starts playing the guitar and vocalizes the intro tune of his song “Your New Boyfriend” by singing “ba ba da ba” etc etc. Then he begins actually singing the song and continuing to play the guitar.]

[sung] Life isn't quite what I thought I'd be / When I was a kid on VoIP / I thought when I get older / I'd marry her, I told her / Now I'm 26, and I work in an office / Nine 'til five's not the best, I'll be honest / If I could change a single thing

I’d make it you and not— [He pauses for a second because those are the wrong lyrics]

[spoken] ...me and not him, actually.

[sung] But he's in your bed, I'm in your Twitch chat / I've got the key and he's just a doormat / And even though he's got social skills / That doesn't mean I can't pay the bills / Anyway, make the most of him / 'Cause she moves on pretty bloody quick, oh-oh / Your new boyfriend's an asshole (woo!)

[Guitar instrumental]

[sung] Yeah, I've met Jared / [spoken] of course, I've met Jared / The one who took you away from me / You hit it off instantly / I know, 'cause you won't stop telling me / I've seen his jawline, shoulders, and muscles / Pushed against his fashion sense / I've thought about what he looks like nude / [spoken] I'm not gay, though

And she's living the dream / Oh, she's living the dream / From back when we were 17 / How on earth could I be saved / When I'm one click away from insane? / I just think that I deserve / A little bit of what I earned / I'm not gonna make another scene / The one I made when I was 23 / Means I'm not allowed in Disney World

[spoken] Chat...

[sung] Cuz he's in your bed, I'm in your Twitch chat / I've got the key and he's just a doormat / And even though he's got social skills / That doesn't mean I can't pay the bills / Anyway, make the most of him / ‘Cause she moves on pretty bloody quick, oh-oh / Your new boyfriend's an asshole (woo!)

[Guitar instrumental]

[spoken to the beat of the song] Woo! Fuck Jared! Yuh! Yuh yuh yuh yuh yuh yuh yuh!

[sung] I think about you every day / So why on earth can I be saved? / I think about him a lot as well / Maybe if he wasn't fine as hell

[spoken] Literally fuck Jared

[sung] 'Cause you're beauty / And you're grace / Your telephone calls are my favorite place / And I want you to notice me / With no restraining order, please / [spoken] JASON DERULO! / I want you to care

[He vocalizes the tune again with sounds like “ba ba da ba” etc]

[sung] I want to smell your hair

[He vocalizes the tune again with sounds like “ba ba da ba” etc. He ends the song with one final strum on his guitar.]

Wilbur (speaking): Thank you everyone for coming down! Thank you everyone for coming, I hope I’ve made your day just a little bit better, ‘cause you’ve made my life a whole lot better, uh. You’re all the best. Uh, I don’t know you, and I probably never will sadly, but I’m sure if I did get to know you, I’d think you were pretty swell. Uh, and we probably have very similar tastes in music and humor and everything. And so with that, I’m gonna say thank you for coming to my little mini gig, I’m gonna go have a shower *laughs* And um, thank you all. I love you all...non-parasocially. *laughs*

#transcript & info under the cut!#basic caption is basic because im bad at captions and i love wilbur soot <3 #wilbur soot #dream smp #mcyt #> my clips #> irl stream #> music #long clip #queued #not sure how good the transcript is (do i need to include lyrics?) so if anyone has any tips feel free to share :P

21 notes · View notes

whathappenedtomyweekend · 3 years ago

Text

It’s Just A Spark Ch.18 - Home

(TW for this chapter: mentions of blood/violence and mentions of homophobia coming from an abusive father)

It still baffled Astrid how different a place could look by night compared to how it did by day. There was something about the narrow, empty streets of Berk drenched in moonlight that made her feel calm like no other place she'd been to before. Not even back at Puffin Point she'd felt this kind of serenity.

Astrid unlocked her front door and took a deep breath at the sight of her dark and empty flat. It smelled like home. She'd left a place she'd called home out of habit and had arrived in Berk with an odd sense of belonging as soon as she'd set foot outside the bus station into the busy street. She hadn't ever been able to explain it, but something about this place made her feel like she wanted to stay - so she had done just that and made Berk her home.

And despite everything that had happened to lead her here, she'd never regretted it. Her keys landed on the small table next to the entrace, followed by her phone and wallet. Her shoulders were aching as she painstakingly shrugged out of her jacket, the crammed-up three hours of sleep on a frail metal bed she'd got now properly announcing themselves. Astrid grimaced and rolled her shoulders back and forth a couple of times before she peeled herself out of her clothes, threw them into a corner and put on her pajamas. She forced herself to a trip to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face and then - finally - dragged herself back to her bedroom. She'd be able to catch a couple hours of sleep before work. Another three, maybe. Three and a half if she was really lucky and fell asleep right now immediately.

The song she'd set as an alarm tone got gradually more annoying with each and every passing morning. Today, the very thin line between 'strong annoyance' and 'burning, all-consuming hatred' had been finally passed. Astrid forced her eyes open and angrily glared at her phone, only to find the display telling her it was 7 am as if it was mocking her.

"Shut up," she growled into her pillow and hit snooze, turning back around and cuddling into the warmth of her blanket. Why was it that beds were only ever this comfortable when you had to leave it within five minutes?

Said five minutes passed. The alarm went off, once again. Astrid hissed and tried to fight the urge to press the snooze button a second time. She failed.

___________________________________________________

"Excuse me, I'm looking for the cat section."

Astrid's face lit up at the sound of the voice behind her and she turned around, to find Hiccup grin at her, hands in his pockets. She mirrored his expression and decided to play along.

"And are you looking for something specific, sir? Anything I can help you with?"

"Oh yes, actually, now that you mention it - I was looking for my girlfriend. About as tall as you, blonde hair, breathtaking blue eyes-"

His voice trailed off as Astrid, now laughing lightly, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him gently. Hiccup chuckled into the kiss and pulled her in by the waist, flush against him and found that he still couldn't stop smiling, even after days of having kissed her for the first time, somehow still not believing his own luck as his other hand gently cupped her face.

After a few seconds Astrid suddenly pulled back, a frown on her face but a glint in her eyes, her hands stilled on his chest now.

"Hang on - was that another asthma joke?"

Hiccup's grin told her everything she needed to know, so she rolled her eyes and kissed him again.

"So - fancy some non-cardboard ice cream?" she asked after they'd parted (and remembering they were still very much in public), grinning up at him.

Hiccup frowned, smiling apologetically. "Actually, I just dropped by to ask if you're free tonight and would mind cutting my hair? Technically I'm still on my shift, just took a little break."

"Oh," Astrid paused, her expression slipping for a moment, but then shrugged and smiled again. "Sure. I'll be home, just drop by whenever you can, yeah?"

"Amazing," he grinned and pressed a quick kiss on her cheek. "Thank you."

Her hands rested on his chest again as Astrid got on her tiptoes to be on the same level as him. "Anytime. Now go, the city of Berk needs you," she quipped, maybe a bit more dramatically than her smile would make you think. Hiccup rolled his eyes but leaned in for a last kiss and hugged her shortly.

"I'll see you later."

______________________________________________________

Hiccup was still grinning to himself, warmth deeply settled in his chest as he lightly pushed the door of the common room open.

"Hey guys, sorry I-"

He stopped abruptly as he saw Snotlout and Gobber, huddled together on the sofa. His cousin sat there, completely motionless, his head buried in his hands. The other fireman was speaking in hushed tones. Within a heartbeat Hiccup was at the sofa, his eyes searching Gobber's.

"What happened?"

The older man's eyes were dark, but he didn't speak. Instead Snotlout pulled his hands away from his face, almost mechanically, gaze still cast on the floor.

Hiccup's blood froze when he saw the bloodied bruise across his cousin's chin and cheek, his nose crimson red with not-yet dried blood.

"Oh, my God," he breathed out and sank down onto the floor next to him. "What happened?" he repeated, urgently.

Snotlout turned his face away again, baring his bruised cheek.

"Scott, what happened?"

There was an edge to Hiccup's voice now, and finally Snotlout turned to face him and spoke, his eyes dark.

"My Dad."

Hiccup's heart stopped for a second, a curse escaping his lips.

"Fishlegs and I have been texting," Snotlout's voice was hollow as he spoke. "Dad must've got to my phone while I was in the kitchen.

Hiccup's eyes grew wide, his heart painfully seizing, already know what exactly had happened and - more imortantly - why it had happened.

"Shit."

Snotlout nodded grimly and shrugged slightly. "Next thing I know, he's screaming - things and he-" he stopped, his breath hitching in his throat as he fought the fresh tears that were gathering in his eyes. "Threw me out."

The moment the tears were spilling over, he hid his face in his hands again, his shoulders starting to shake violently. Hiccup and Gobber exchanged a short look and a wordless conversation, and then Gobber abruptly got to his feet, his expression grim. There had only been a limited amount of times Hiccup had seen his uncle this furious, and yet dangerously quiet, his fists clenching and opening again as he stood in the middle of the common room. His voice was shaking with held-back rage as he spoke.

"I'm gonna go and pack a few things for you, son. You're staying with your uncle and me."

Hiccup opened his mouth, the words 'Let me go with you' on the tip of his tongue, but Gobber just held up a hand and added, "You're staying here. That bastard wouldn't dare to pick on someone his own size, I'll be fine."

Hiccup gave up quickly, knowing there would be no deterring Gobber in a moment like this, so he nodded firmly and sat down next to Snotlout.

"You're on call response until I get back," Gobber added, addressing Hiccup once more. The younger man nodded a second time.

"We're here," he said, maybe more to Snotlout than to Gobber and slowly, carefully as to not to startle his cousin, laid an arm around him as he silently shook with quiet sobs. "We're here."

____________________________________________________

"I got you some tea."

Hiccup carefully set the steaming mug down in front of his cousin, who had gone back to staring blankly at the floor in complete motionlessness.

He'd let Hiccup tend to his wounds, and the young man had been relieved none of Snotlout's open bruises had required any stitches. He sat back down next to him and after a moment of silence, quietly said, "Don't let it get cold."

Almost automatically, Snotlout reached out and took a sip from the hot beverage, clutching it tightly with both hands as he continued his staring contest with the floor.

Hiccup knew he couldn't force him to talk about anything that had happened. But right now, he wasn't even sure if it was a good idea to even go as far as ask.

Several minutes passed.

"I'm not a piece of shit, am I, Hiccup?" Snotlout's voice was hollow when he finally spoke to the ground. "Just because I'm bi. That doesn't make me a bad person, does it?"

Hiccup's heart broke a little. "Of course not," he said, his hand back on his cousin's shoulder. Snotlout shook it off reluctantly, tears gathering in his eyes again.

"So why did he say that?"

"Say what?" Hiccup probed gently, now keeping his hands away.

"That I'm not his son anymore," Snotlout choked out, eyes desperately glued to the floor. "Why would he say that?"

"I don't know," Hiccup admitted a moment later, his heart aching for his cousin who looked so young and afraid. Looking at him now, the burly young man who carried himself with confident bravado seemed more like a little boy, cowered together to make himself as small as possible. Fragile. Snotlout seemed fragile right now, and Hiccup didn't know what to do.

So he let him cry, let him lean against him and cry into his shoulder until his tears had subsided and his breathing had calmed down again.

"Do you want a sip of water?" Hiccup asked once Snotlout's shoulders had stopped shaking. The dark-haired man wiped his nose with his sleeve and nodded, almost sheepishly. Hiccup nodded and carefully got up and went into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.

Upon his arrival he found Snotlout staring down at the ground again, resting his chin on his hands now. He shortly looked up as he heard Hiccup enter and tried a small smile.

"Thanks," he muttered as Hiccup handed him the glass and quickly emptied it, now for the first time realising how thirsty he was.

They sat in silence for a while.

"It's like I came to my senses, you know," Snotlout said then, his head in his hands again. "After what you said. About not saying anything. Fishleg's amazing, I'm not the only one who sees that. So what if somebody else does - say something. And then he'd fall for that person. Not me. So I-" he paused, still not looking at Hiccup. "So I texted him again. And we've actually agreed to meet up, after my Friday night shift. Proper dinner as well, restaurant and everything, no alcohol this time."

With this, he finally looked at his cousin, shooting him a small, unsure ever-faltering smile. Hiccup returned the expression and gently nudged his shoulder.

"See, knew you could do it," he paused for a moment, then his grin widened. "Look at you, going to candle light dinners with the guy of your dreams."

Snotlout let out a weak laugh, pretend-pushing him away lightly. "Alright, don't get too excited. Just because I took your advice doesn't mean it was very good, okay?"

"Sure, Snot, whatever you say," Hiccup grinned, making him bark out another hesitant low laugh.

"Shut up."

_______________________________________________________

Gobber returned with clothes and a dark expression.

"Right," he let the pile of clothes fall onto the coffee table and turned to look at the two younger men. "I've phoned Stoick, you can sleep on the sofa until we've cleared the spare room out for you."

"Thank you, Gobber," Snotlout mumbled, a strange mix of relief and shame written over his face. "I'm really sorry for-"

"And you're not finishing that sentence," Gobber interrupted him sharply. "There's nothing to feel sorry for, son. You're welcome to stay at ours for as long as you need and want." His expression softened with every word he spoke, and finally, Snotlout smiled up at his mentor, the shame slowly vanishing.

"Thank you," he repeated, louder this time and - for the first time in hours - got up from the sofa, looking a bit sheepish. "Now I just need a toothbrush."

"I've got a spare one in my bathroom locker," Hiccup offered, relieved at the sight of the smile on his cousin's face at his words.

"Right - it's settled then, I'll get a bag for your things," Gobber decided, rubbing his hands together and giving Snotlout a quick pat on the back before he left.

Snotlout sat back down next to Hiccup, smiling softly to himself.

"Love that guy," he said, weakly pointing to the spot where Gobber had just stood. "And you too, by the way. Never said that, I think. I know I'm always acting like … you know."

"Like you're fearless and untouchable and don't need anyone?"

Snotlout snorted, side-eyeing Hiccup sheepishly and nodded. "Yeah, more or less."

Hiccup shrugged lightly and grinned. "It's okay. Thank you for saying it. And I'll be here for you, okay? Whenever Gobber and Stoick are maybe a bit too much - so maybe after, I don't know, two three … hours or so - you can come crash at my place, yeah? We'll watch those Keanu Reeves movies you like so much."

Snotlout looked at him, and for the first time this evening, felt completely calm and only grateful.

"Yeah, that'd be nice."

#ijas #httyd #httyd 2 #hiccstrid #it's just a spark #mine #fanfic

12 notes · View notes

yourfavouritetragedy · 3 years ago

Text

I posted 3,448 times in 2021

321 posts created (9%)

3127 posts reblogged (91%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 9.7 posts.

I added 5,210 tags in 2021

#art - 1269 posts

#wilbur - 783 posts

#dsmp - 629 posts

#tommy - 477 posts

#i said this - 400 posts

#ghostbur - 394 posts

#techno - 370 posts

#ranboo - 304 posts

#memes - 293 posts

#revivedbur - 291 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i feel like recently people have been attacking americans not for doing stupid american sht but for just being concerned about covid? and a

My Top Posts in 2021

Would just like to make everyone aware that the penis smp Polygon article directly compares it to Superwholock

149 notes • Posted 2021-09-06 22:36:27 GMT

I might just be tired, but I found this extremely funny

260 notes • Posted 2021-01-17 04:20:42 GMT

TnTduo is like: “I want to ruin you.” *aggressive making out* “Okay, back to business. That was great, but I meant I want to completely destroy you financially.”

267 notes • Posted 2021-08-31 19:05:00 GMT

I’m watching the Editor Wilbur ARG videos and he said in reference to Minecraft, “You don’t rely on a tired medium to create timeless art,” and the Dream SMP is literally using Minecraft as a medium for telling an incredible story laksdjflakd

I’ve literally had a post at the back of my for weeks mind that goes “People look at the Dream SMP the wrong way: it’s not a Minecraft roleplay that happened to get really good. It’s a really good story that happened to be told through Minecraft. If it was told any other way, it would be different, yes, but it’s not a Minecraft thing first and foremost but a story thing first and foremost.”

628 notes • Posted 2021-01-24 16:47:07 GMT

No more gender no more star signs only what song off Your City Gave Me Asthma hits hardest for you.

1418 notes • Posted 2021-01-25 21:59:02 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #I said this #i think i used more tags for post here than main lol #not gonna lie i don't like that the longest tag they picked up references old discourse but it is what it is #luckily it's not too confrontation or controversial #btw the number one post here is my most of all time #and given that i only had like. three posts here beofre the new year. this is basically the all-time stats for this blog #note how wilbur is fking over a 100 posts above tommy #and there's three different versions of him there lol

2 notes · View notes

krabmeat · 4 years ago

Text

𝚓𝚞𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜: Wilbur Soot

𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: he/him

𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: mentions of death, implied s_!c!de, aggressive and angered yelling, glass shattering

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: this is gonna be a 7 part series im doing where I write all of the songs from the album "Your City Gave Me Asthma" by Wilbur Soot as short stories! this is the first one of the 7, jubilee line- hope you enjoy!! this short story does deal with extremely heavy topics, so please reach out to a professional or a trusted person in your life if you deal with similar emotions or similar situations. your emotions are valid and deserve to be dealt with, no one expects you to handle your sh-t alone.

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

Wasting your time.

“Wilbur, what are you talking about?” She’s trying to help again. It’s tiring. She’s my therapist, but also my friend and roommate so I see her often. She can see how much I’ve been struggling with my job, and she’s been trying to help. I don’t think I want it. My eye bags are more defined since I’ve tilted my head down to lace my fingers through my slightly greasy hair. I’m thinking. My eyes are closed when she speaks up again. “Wil!” I snap my eyes open and look up at her.

You're wasting mine.

I don’t know where my body is taking me. Pent up impulse has taken control of my body, and I stomp my way over to the door while briskly grabbing my beanie and trench coat from the coat rack. “Wil, where are you going?” “Away.” She desperately grabs onto my upper arm. She’s concerned, but am I? In any other situation, I would be. But it doesn’t feel like me talking.

I hate to see you leaving,

Her voice was shaky when she spoke. There are tears in her eyes. It’s strange, really. She always managed to let her tears roam as they pleased, it’s always been something I’ve found fascinating about her. But my curiosity doesn’t seem to be where it usually is on my mental shelf. I think I may have misplaced it. I take one last glance around the place before calmly removing her hand from my arm.

Fate worse than dying.

I don’t know how late it is until I hear 11 distinct chimes roll out across the city like a blanket. Even then, I don’t know how long I’ve been walking but I think I’m getting close to my destination. But why am I feeling dizzy? Oh right,

Your city gave me asthma

Probably one of the only things I brung with me, I found an inhaler in my coat pocket. It’s got enough to last me to where I’m going. With the last puff in it, I chuck the empty inhaler into a nearby alley. Climate change hits hard everywhere, but it gets bipolar in London. It doesn’t matter to me right now. I’d turn it all to ash from the fleeting joy I get from adding more smoke to the sky.

So that’s why I’m f*cking leaving.

The inhaler helped me breathe, but the dizziness is still there. The inhaler doesn’t even matter, the air is still dense and damp from the drenched night before. The world around me is melting, but when I blink it’s like everything was inflated back to normal with an air pump. Before I know it though, my lack of eyesight sends me tumbling to the ground. My arms and legs are damp, I tripped on a puddle.

And your water gave me cancer.

I’m never usually this mad. Bottling up comes easy to me, yet I find myself angrily stomping on the puddle, causing me to fall again, leaving more scrapes scattered across my pale, cold skin. The concrete meets my knuckles, aggressively landing blows to its invisible face.

And the pavement hurt my feelings.

I get up from the ground. The blood from my knuckles is unrecognizable, washed away by the sudden downpour. The buildings have become a haze. Familiar, but I don’t know what it is. Not the familiarness associated with a home, or a warm and comforting hug. As if I’ve seen it before, constantly looming over me, watching me like a renewed episode of their favorite show. They already know what’s happening, they know what’s coming. I can’t take it. There’s a rasp in my voice and I’m surrounded by re renovated apartments and business buildings, factories puffing their black cigarette smoke out for the ignorant tourists to see.

Shout at the walls,

My tears are confused with the rain, but both are dripping viciously from my face as gravely shouts and yells stream out of my mouth. Nearby bottles and littered beer cans are pleading for mercy, crushed and shattered by my aggressive hands thrown against the walls.

Cause the walls don’t f*cking love you.

My senses are getting overwhelmed, my arms and legs shaking from either the cold or the jolt of sensation I get when the glass shatters into a million pieces before I could stop it.

Shout at the walls,

“SHUT THE F*CK UP, WILL YA!?” My head tilts upwards to see a man at his windowsill with a dirty glare coming my way. A few seconds later, a little girl appears behind the man, seeming to have just woken up. A soft and whispery “Dad…?” Can be heard from the little girl. The softness I feel from the small wholesome moment soon turns into mind-numbing guilt. I run away, the numbness going to my legs as they once again travel on their own.

Cause the walls don’t f*cking love you.

My legs burn and sting with every stride and step they take along the path. I’m almost there. The strange looks and stares I’m getting are blocked out by the splashing and slapping of my damp shoes against the thin puddles on the ground.

Clap, clap

It’s almost as if this place is a second home for me. It’s my home, crowded with chatter and people making their ways through the Jubilee line. I’m so familiar with this place, you’d think I actually live here. I make my way to the glass barriers that block me from reaching the train, my damp feet still slapping against the ground.

Clap, clap

The barrier frustrates me. The visitors see it as a safety precaution, London’s trying to keep us safe! But we know, I know. It represents ignorance, laziness, failure. London’s desperacy to please those foreign to this place while ostracizing those who have been fed to the brim with government immaturity. I’ve broken barriers like these, it was easy for me to shatter the flimsy glass. The crowds and crowds of people stop, scream, panic, run and express their disgust all at once. I stood on top of the railing, the only other thing in my way. The tracks are calling to me, but so does a voice.

There’s a reason that London puts barriers on the tube line!

This voice isn’t familiar to me, which is why it bothers me so much. Foreigner. They don’t know. They COULD know, it’s not as if our hierarchy here has made a completely opaque wall between their intentions and actions. I’m still on top of the rail, but my back is faced towards the tracks. My eyes land on a short, blond white woman. Her voice sounded like she was talking with sticks in her mouth, nothing like the smoothness of a British accent. I fail to turn around in time before another voice is heard from another part of the station.

There’s a reason London puts barriers on the rails!

A tall man with ginger hair and lanky arms speaks up. He’s just like the woman, uneducated. Poor foreigners. The brotures and online ads and magazine cut-outs only give webs of lies and deceit when advertising to come to London. It speaks of the grand sights but not the horrid trauma that children here have to bear their sight to because of our crippling economy. The photos show places with warm rays and never the vicious rain and storms or scolding heat. The videos show clear, blue skies and never the gray turning grayer from the remains of society's mass-production. I’m done listening to these people. But one in particular stops me.

There’s a reason that London puts barriers on the tube line,

A tone I recognize, but a face that’s a haze. The man is from here, his voice says it all. His gray outfit and security guard patch on his vest. He knows what I’m thinking. He understands. Understanding would have been useful about an hour ago, yet I still find a soft smile slowly etching on my lips. I spread my arms out, like a bird with its wings spread out from its body. I wish I had wings, I would fly out of this wretched town. Fly out to freedom like Icarus. He flew too high, however. Where I’m going, the only upwards I’ll be is 6 feet under. But I’m ready for that. My face expresses a feeling of relief, tranquility, satisfaction. I haven’t smiled like this in years, it’s nice to close things off with a smile. The buzz of a train can be distantly heard, and I look out to the crowd. With the breeze of the air pushing against my falling back, I manage to breathe out a final arrangement for the crowd to hear.

There’s a reason they fail.

#wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot fanfic #ycgma #mcyt #mcyt fic #mcyt fanfic #mcyt fanfiction #dsmp fic #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fanfiction #song fic #song fanfic #song fanfiction

12 notes · View notes

ellipsyb · 4 years ago

Text

your city gave me asthma, and a vibe check for every song

jubilee line // this song gives off sort of quiet sad vibes. not depressed, per say, just... sad. melancholy, perhaps. a very good introduction to this album, it definitely sets the tone. at the back end of the song, his voice just hits you where it hurts in the best fucking way.

saline solution // you know how sometimes you're so depressed that you just have to listen to hard rock and take a fucking power walk? that's how this song makes me feel. it gives me a bit of energy. but... depressed energy? if you know what i mean? also, when wilbur's voice gets louder and like... harsher? near the end? and when it's a lot more quiet immediately before hand? god, that just makes me feel a lot of things.

since i saw vienna // this track gives off similar vibes to jubilee line. melancholy, soft, acoustic. makes you miss something you've never had (la jolla also does this, i would say). also, the little bits where he's laughing or when he says, "cut that bit out," those parts somehow just add to the mood and accent it. overall a good song to feel to.

losing face // this song goes perhaps the hardest out of all the songs on the album. like the end of jubilee line and saline solutio, it's very powerful. a good song to listen to when you're angry or have a lot of energy. you don't actually hear a lot about this girl wilbur is singing about, you don't hear a lot of backstory, it's just "fuck you and fuck this guy you've left me for," and it adds all the more hostility to the tone. my favorite song on the album by far.

your sister was right // i haven't listened to this one as much as the others, so it hasn't made as much of an imprint on me, but i'll say this: the vocals are very demanding. the way that wilbur layers two different clips of his voice in the beginning, and then goes into that harsher, more powerful voice that he's used throughout the album, it drives home a very hostile tone. it's full of self-hatred, and somehow also hatred for whoever wilbur is singing to. it's a generally very strong track.

la jolla // another very quiet, sadder song. wilbur sings about wanting to leave his home and live in a place called la jolla (pronounced la hoyah), a seaside town in california, near san diego. it gives offa sort of a yearning tone that makes you want to visit la jolla, perhaps even live there as wilbur sings about in the track. his voice is very soft, it lacks the recurring tone of voice from other songs, that louder sort of voice. rather than taking away from the mood of the album, it serves to highlight the feeling of being trapped and lonely in the town where he is. this is a song i resonate with a lot.

i'm sorry boris // i believe this song is meant to go hand in hand with la jolla, even using phrasing that responds to the latter (la jolla: "you know it takes a lot to move me" / i'm sorry boris: "i figured out what can move me"). it has the same message of leaving his home town, but it comes with the melancholic irony of having so many roots. it eventually evolves into not wanting to leave at all, a stark contrast to the desire that wilbur has in la jolla. it's soft and slow, a perfect ending to the album.

#this starts to get very repetitive and unorganized because i’m about to pass out #long post #i know nobody cares what i think but i wanted to rant about it knshdhfh #anyway wilbur’s songs go fucking hard #wilbur soot #your city gave me asthma

48 notes · View notes

aliencartz · 1 year ago

Text

the amount of burs i could make out any wilbur soot piece of media, so i now will be giving my list and their sources \(^o^)/

(most of these are from random videos of his)

1. simpbur (your new boyfriend)

2. incelbur (the internet ruined me)

3. Ebur (im in love with an egirl)

4. softbur (softboy)

5. ARG/argbur (wilbur soot’s ARG)

6. catbur/dogbur (my random headcanons)

7. lmanbur (when wil was president on the dsmp)

8. q! wilbur (qsmp wilb)

9. revivedbur (wilbur after getting revived)

10. ghostbur (when wilbur was dead and in the limbo)

11. vilbur/pogbur (before wilbur died, but after schlatt took over and kicked him out of manburg)

12. c! wilbur/alivebur (when he first joined the dsmp)

13. ycgmabur (based off wilburs album your city gave me asthma)

14. msrbur (a very sad bur based off his album mammalian sighing reflex)

15. godbur/100pbur (based off his 100 players ‘series’)

16. raftbur/ishmael isaac(when wilbur played raft with tomz)

17. mulebur (when he trapped tubbo in his basement and sold mule bits, in tommys minecraft weather mod video)

18. tiptup (when wilbur play geoguesser)

19. sorrybur/s!bur (sorry boys wilbur)

20. phantombur (origin SMP with his phantom powers)

21. cc! wilbur (content creator wilbur so just regular wilbur)

22. modbur (literally every time he uses mods)

23. lvjybur (when he does tour/conserts/makes music with lovejoy)

24. rustbur (when he played rust w sbi)

25. zombur (we survived a zombie apocalypse video)

26. wimpfred (his character in we spent 100 days in hardcore minecraft apocalypse)

27. wilma (his fem version on the sorry boys)

28. dark wolf/cultbur (sorry boys ep4 we started a cult)

29. daynjer boy (wilburs chaotic/risk taking character/side)

30. draq’thar, killer of men (wilburs “no haircut til my new song comes out” stream where he wore a wig)

31. dr. malpractice (from toms minecraft surgery video when wilbur would steal everyones organs)

32. ylylbur (when wilbur did you laugh you lose)

33. skybur (when wilbur played sky block)

34. smallbur (when wilbur was really small in the size mod video)

35. sogbur/wetbur (when wilbur, george, and tommy went to the water park)

36. drugbur (when him and tommy had the drug van)

37. earthbur (when he did earth smp)

38. youngbur (when wilbur made videos when he was younger)

39. decaybur (minecraft but the world is rapidly decaying)

40. rockbur (minecraft but i leave a trail of bedrock)

41. livebur (wilbur doing smp live)

42. boringbur (maybe i was boring)

43. sandbur (when wilbur bugged philza about sand)

44. flowerbur (when wilbur would go on servers as ‘flowergirl86’ [or smth idr :,)] and tell people he was friends with techno)

45. voicebur (when him, phil, quackity, and tommy did the voice mod)

46. bodbur (body shuffle mod)

47. ao3bur (when wilbur tweeted about his fic on ao3 and was upset when it got hacked)

48. winbur/crownbur (when quackity won him and wilbur the crown in mc championship)

49. salmonbur (when wilbur was w sally and gave philza the 8 buckets of salmon)

THOSE ARE ALL MY BURS FOR NOW ITS 2 IN THE MORNING 😭

48 notes · View notes

pigeonxp · 4 years ago

Text

YGCMA songs and how they relate to c!Wilbur based off of yesterday’s lore (in my biased opinion)

This is so dumb and i literally don’t care. I can’t think about anything else other than doing this synopsis even tho like 28480329204 other people are going to do it. idc.

(I listened to the songs earlier, and i’m also listening to them as i write the opinions. these are basically just my thoughts while listening tbh. im also not doing the full song, just some things i feel relate within each song)

- Jubilee Line

the lines at the beginning of the song, “hate to see you leaving / a fate worse than dying” could relate to how wilbur feels after tommy gets pulled back into the overworld. or, he could be referencing L’Manburg and how he hates to see his country leaving him (ouch).

then we have the lines “your city gave me asthma / so thats why im fucking leaving / and your water gave me cancer / and the pavements hurt my feelings”. This could be in relation to L’Manburg as a whole. He put everything he had into L’Manburg and it only ended up hurting him in the end. yikes.

now we have “shout at the wall / ‘cause the walls dont fucking love you” repeated. This could be in reference to when he said he was fucking kicking and screaming to get out of the train station. hes screaming and he doesnt care because it doesnt matter to him. it doesnt love him just like how the people of L’Manburg didnt love him. wilbur get therapy challenge.

so based on the lore from yesterday, we know that c!wilbur’s limbo was a train station (props to fanartists. i love you.), presumably the YCGMA album cover type deal. when he sings “Theres a reason / that London puts barriers on the tube line / theres a reason / that London puts barriers on the rails” repeated. if the train station looks like how they do on the album cover, there could be barriers where he is. maybe hes trying his best to just kill himself over again by jumping onto the tracks. just in an attempt to escape. jfc

“theres a reason they fail”. he was still in the train station, wasnt he?

- Saline Solution

for this one, i feel like hes pretty far into the void and regretting his decision to have phil kill him. hes tired of being in a fucking train station for years on end.

“i think this time im dying / im not melodramatic / im just pragmatic beyond any / reasoning for thinking ive got / fuckin rabies or something.” hes so fucking sick of being in this goddamn train station and he thinks hes dying. hes so pent up and sick of being there, maybe hes just in so much pain that he feels like hes dying. if hes been there for a while, hes probably bound to go crazy at some point, hence the “pragmatic beyond any reasoning.”

“I think ive lost my mind / blurring the fact and the fictions” this feels like he really does believe hes going crazy and is mixing up the things he really knows and the things his mind is creating for him. maybe this is when tommy first arrived and he cant tell if he real or not (thats a stretch but i figured id share it anyway.)

“I think ive made my choice / im a deceased playing victim / slip the face, slip the victory” he quite literally says that hes a deceased playing victim. hes literally saying hes dead HAHHAHAH anyway. maybe hes blaming himself again, because us c!wilbur apologists all know that hes very good at doing that.

“Sit secluded in hatred /.../” hes sitting in a fucking train station for god knows how long beating himself up over and over again and just hating himself. hes all alone. with himself. someone he fucking loathes.

this is honestly all i have for Saline Solution, but i will definitely add more later if i get different theories.

- Since I Saw Vienna

This is my favorite song on the album and my comfort song so that could factor into this bit ahaha

im going to skip through this one a little bit and go to the line “The roads are my home, horizons my target / if i keep on moving, never lose sight of it / treating my memory of you like a fire, let it / burn out, don’t fight it, try to move on” this sounds like hes reminiscing on his home in L’Manburg and his presidency was something he relied on and he would fight to get it back, but now that hes dead and said that it should remain that way that he should just let it go. trying to move on from his symphony, forever unfinished.

“its been sixty weeks since i saw vienna / a bandage and a wide smile slapped across my face / ill pick up my hiking boots when i am ready / and ill put down my roots when im dead.” THESE LINES FUCK ME UP IN GENERAL BUT HOW THEY RELATE TO C!WILBUR RN IS JUST SUIBHYSBUSHDXNSKJDNHBD YK???? in the context that vienna is L’Manburg and he died, its saying that its been a long ass time since hes seen it and hes faking being okay about his death. he misses it but doesnt want to admit it. the picking up the hiking boots when hes ready is him moving on from his L’Manburg, and putting his roots down when hes dead is finally being okay with not living there/being an important part of it. he believed his death was the best for the people in L’Manburg and L’Manburg itself. it seems like hes still trying to convince himself.

“Ill be gone then, for when you must be alone.” hes gone. hes dead. hes in the train station. he left the L’Manburgians alone and hes alone in his limbo. man.

- Losing Face

this song is angry. hes so fucking angry. my thoughts are that this is about the following presidents after him. he feels like the L’Manburgians were happier without him and im pretty sure he believed that even when Schlatt was president. this is so evident in the lyric “Is he better than me?” Hes literally asking if the other presidents were better than he was. he doesnt believe he did everything he could to be the best president, even though we all know that he gave everything that he was into that country and then some. he broke himself for the L’Manburg but he doesnt believe hes enough. sheesh.

“Ive seen him / ive been him / ive felt the same way” even though he cant see the new presidents being president, he knows what its like. he knows that they might break under the pressure. hes been there. he knows how if feels. yikes.

“Ive lost all meaning / ive lost my sense of hope” this feels like when he was nearing the end of L’Manburg when he blew it up, and that he feels like trying to win it back is pointless. he has no hope for it anymore, so why not give up? his mental state is already shit yk so i cant really blame him for feeling that way.

“i dont care / i want you here / as long as youre happy, i dont care” this line. this fucking line. hes lost hope in being president, but he doesnt care. he just wants the L’Manburgians to be happy. that was his whole thought process while he was president. he didnt matter to himself, he just wanted them to be happy. he sacrificed his mental state for them. cries in wilbur apologist.

- Your Sister Was Right

this is my second favorite song on the album i think HAHAHAH

anyway

“I use everyone i ever meet / i cant find the perfect match / abuse those i love / while i ostracize the ones who love me / back.” wowie wow wow fucking ouchie. He feels like he uses his friends. this whole thing is a projection of his shit ass mental state rn fucking hell. he feels like hes abusive. thats what everyones been telling him. they tell him he was awful and a shit president and all that jazz even though hes been killing himself trying to be the best for them but its still not enough (pigeon projecting? more likely than you think)

“every time that i miss you / i feel the way you hurt / and i dont deserve you / you deserve the world / though it feels like we were built / from the same dirt.” man. hes dead lol. he misses the L’Manburgians. not only were they his supporters, but they were all his friends too. every time he misses his friends he feels their pain of when he first blew up L’Manburg. he feels like because he caused them all pain that they dont like him and that they never liked him and that he is undeserving of their friendship. he still wants to be friends with them. he still loves them. he still wants the best for them. he thinks theyre so much better than him even though they all created L’Manburg together. in reality they are all the same, but their actions impact each other and he feels that his actions make him worse than them or less than. fuckisonmdfnpbhife

“and i hate to say it / but your sister was right / dont trust english boys / with far too much free time” sister is dream mayhaps. fuckngeionsfjg that hurt sorry uhhh anyway yeah sister is dream?? he did say that wilbur would be a shit president and he believes that hes a shit president so he thinks they were all right about him being a shit president fbhjebinfnejg. maybe sister is just everyone who didnt believe in wilbur. man....

“a fucking waste of time” do i even need to explain this one? he fr doesnt belive hes worth it anymore and that hes literally a waste of time. hjkfbhnfve

- La Jolla

this one feels pretty far into train station limbo to me as well. namely from “and im lonely / there i said it” this could either be him being lonely as president and feeling like he doesnt have anyone to talk to really because hes too busy trying to hold himself together for everyone. either that or hes lonely in the station and didnt want to admit it because this is what he wanted. he wanted to die. he wanted to be dead because he believed thats what everyone else wanted and he just wanted the best for them.

“i could go away / i could pack my things and be gone before you wake” he could leave if they asked him to. he would do anything for them.

“you know ive tried hard to love me too / it always seems to fall in, through” this line already physically pained me but now it hurts even more having to relate it to a character i love. we already know that his mental state was declining as his presidency continued, but this would confirm that hes just trying to love himself even though he can never seem to get it right.

“my own personal sunset” this is just the ‘this is my sunrise’ line but different. my man misses the sun. fuck.

- I’m Sorry Boris

this song is almost definitely from a long ass time in the limbo.

“and im sorry / but, boris / im leaving / im not good for anyone here” boris represents L’Manburgians!! hes talking about how hes leaving the world by planning on killing himself. fuck.

“we reached the end of a decade” mans been dead for a decade. sheesh.

he then goes on to say that he cant believe hes leaving, he doesnt think he wants to leave them, but he thinks its whats best for them.

he talks about how they do all of these bullshit things before helping you and i know its in reference to london but for the sake of my sanity its about the presidency role and how it will fuck you up before bothering to help you not want to kill yourself.

should i do a separate post about how i visualized it/about how i thought about the song in paragraph form like a lowkey explanation? idk how to explain it but in this one i wanted to just cover some of the lyrics of the songs and my thoughts on them. i think c!wilbur wrote these in the limbo after he died. i know this is also shit and Not Good, but i really just needed to get my thoughts out before it killed me. i also didnt reread this. its probably repetitive and shit yk. i do Not Care. id also love to hear thoughts on this if yall want to. if you made it this far i love you please hydrate and eat today and youre so sexy ahaha

“and even though im finished / im not quite done with it” even though hes finishing his symphony by blowing it up, hes now realizing he wished he hadnt blown it up and that he hadnt killed himself. man.

#tw death #tw suicide #wilbur soot #ycgma #dream smp #tommyinnit #dream #c!wilbur #fuck i love this album

10 notes · View notes