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lacrimaomnis · 3 years ago

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BRF Reading, 27/7/2021

I have never had the right word to describe what I feel about Prince Philip and his death because I always feel that the word "grief" may be too lofty, too bold, even, to describe what I am feeling. It perhaps may be grief, but I always feel that in the end, in the grand scheme of things, it is so small and so inconsequent, so irrelevant, which is why I hesitate to use the word "grief" because it carries with itself so much meaning, so much profoundness that it almost feels wrong for me, someone of no consequence or relevance to use that word to describe what I am feeling.

This is actually a personal reading I did for myself. I am on the fence about whether to share this or not because his death was three, almost four months ago and I do feel in these times we do not need another sad reading -- there was already so much sadness around us all. I decided to share this in hope that any of you who read this, who had questioned how Prince Philip's last hours were could find solace that he was not in pain, he was not stressed about Harry and Meghan, he was not stressed about anything or anyone. He was in a total and complete peace, with leaving his love behind the only thing that weighed him down -- but otherwise, he faced his last hours with dignity, strength, and courage. I hope by sharing this, anyone who reads this can feel some sort of closure, even if at first it seemed like you do not feel like needing it.

As written, this is merely a speculation and therefore must be taken with a grain of salt. This speculation is not true until proven otherwise.

My question is, how was The Duke of Edinburgh's last hours?

Cards drawn: The Emperor, Eight of Pentacles, The Empress, Five of Pentacles, Strength Underlying energies: Queen of Swords, Four of Swords

Remarks/Comments: Three major arcana cards out of five cards. This is perhaps a very important question for me as the querent, even if I do not realise it myself. I really struggled not to cry as I type this.

Summary: He was surrounded by the people he loved. He was not in pain, but there was a sense of loss. Charles and The Queen were definitely by his side in his last hours. His last hours were spent quietly and calmly, just like what the Countess of Wessex said: "It was like somebody took him by the hand and off he went. And that's all you ever wanted for someone, isn't it?"

First card: The Emperor. This is the card of male authority, a patriarch, and in this reading, this card stands for Prince Philip. He was, until the last of his breaths, the patriarch of the family. This card can also imply the presence of Charles, the next patriarch of the family once Prince Philip passes away. This told me that in his last hours, Prince Philip perhaps said a lot of things to Charles; one can only imagine what he said to his eldest to prepare him as the next patriarch of the family, where his job is to support his mother and to make decisions for his family, like once Prince Philip did. This card brought to my mind one quote from the Duke's first private secretary, Michael Parker, when the Duke offered him his job: that his job, first, second, and last, is to never let her (Elizabeth) down.

Second card: Eight of Pentacles. This is the card of skill and craftsmanship, but most importantly this card is about accomplishment and hard work. Perhaps in his last hours, Prince Philip reflected on his accomplishments and hard work. He was the longest-serving consort for a reigning monarch in British history. Over his seven decades of service, he was either a member, the president, or the patron of over 780 organisations. This card also reminded me of his Duke of Edinburgh's Award, a scheme that he devised to help adolescents and young adults to improve themselves, and perhaps one of his most lasting legacies.

This card also speaks about his numerous achievements; his solo tours, everything that he did was to improve the nation he served and to serve his monarch -- as he solemnly vowed before his Queen in her Coronation: to be her lord liege of life and limb.

Third card: The Empress. This is the card of a female ruler, the matriarch, and in this reading, this card stands for Her Majesty. She was by his side in his last hours. This card also speaks about fulfillment and contentment, and coming after the Eight of Pentacles, this tells me that Prince Philip was content with what he had achieved throughout his long life. He was also content with the marriage he had with The Queen and the children he had with her.

The Empress offers succour and comfort, and I interpret this card as that the presence of Her Majesty brought Prince Philip a great comfort. He knew his time was coming to an end, and the presence of his Lilibet, his cabbage, comforted him.

Fourth card: Five of Pentacles. This card represents a loss. Coming after The Empress, this card can be interpreted two ways: Philip felt a sense of loss as he had to leave his Lilibet behind, as he has to go ahead of her. He had walked two steps behind her for the entirety of his life. Now as he has to go ahead of her, perhaps there was a sense of loss in him: would his Lilibet be alright without him? Would she be alright, now that no one can protect him, that he, the last person on Earth to be her equal can no longer be with her? Who would make sure she is alright if he's gone? Who would be there for her, behind closed doors, to listen to her, to comfort her, as an equal?

Another interpretation is that The Queen, as represented by The Empress, felt an impending sense of loss. Her husband was dying, and there was no denying nor stalling that. She did everything she could to give him the comfort needed to spend his last days, or perhaps just stall the inevitable just a little bit more, to be with him. This card instantly reminded me of The Queen saying that his death has "left a huge void in her life".

Fifth card: Strength. His physical strength may be waning, but he is as strong and as courageous as he has always been. This card represents inner fortitude, and for Prince Philip, this inner fortitude had been his defining trait throughout the years. He was The Queen's strength and stay for all her years, his remarkable mental fortitude was forged by his difficult early years.

This card reminded me of one story where he signed the guestbook with "no fixed abode" as for the address, that he was a penniless royal in exile for the majority of his life until he married The Queen, then Princess Elizabeth. The stories of his hardships and his difficulties, and yet, he triumphed over it all.

This card also tells me that Prince Philip faced his last hours with courage, strength, and dignity. Perhaps he encouraged those he loved to continue on; because as he said: "Life would still go on without me." Perhaps he encouraged his loved ones to have the strength for days ahead.

Underlying energy 1: Queen of Swords. This card was the underlying energy for The Empress. She is the most worldly and intelligent out of all Queens, and this card tells me that The Queen must make good use of her intellect and skills to make her own judgment, because there would be no one else to discuss and share her thoughts about in a way lovers could share their thoughts together, and she has to trust her judgments. She has to believe in her wit and her intellect, just like how she believed in the decisions and the judgments Philip made.

Underlying energy 2: Four of Swords. This is the card of rest. This card tells me that it is his time to rest, to lay his head down, and to go to sleep. As for Philip, this card indicated that it is his time to put his sword down at last and to rest for he has fought well. He has raised his sword and fought his entire life to make life more tolerable for those who come after him, and rest is his reward.

Conclusion: This reading brought me the closure I didn't even know I need -- perhaps I did grieve. I cried as I read the cards and analysed it because I felt so much sadness and relief at the same time. I was relieved that at his last hours he was not in any kind of pain and that he was surrounded by the people he loved and I was sad because The Queen had lost her last equal, the grief emanating from the cards was overwhelming, amplified by my own.

#reading: brf #g reads

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trulymadlysydney · 3 years ago

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1/ ok long anon :) back longer than ever ! because was there one time Harry was seen at like a western bar? or a bar that had a mechanical bull and he rode it ?? Then left with a girl? did that actually happen am I making that up? Anyways Harry’s in the middle of his American tour and has a 3 day break before his next show on Friday. And let’s pretend he’s somewhere around Nashville, or down further south near Dallas or Houston, or maybe west near Phoenix, or could be up in Boston, anyways point is, it’s Tuesday night and Harry just wants to find a place to have a beer at an actual bar with his band and some of the crew, and hopefully not be center of attention for a moment. And the bar he manages to make his way into isn’t packed whatsoever, but still has a nice crowd of what seems to be older locals, there for open mic night/karaoke. He and the band manage to make their way in to go sit at a booth tucked away and if any of the patrons do spare a look at him, it’s not really at him, but more so at his funky multicolored cardigan. And Harry’s having a great time just being able to be out drinking and having a good time with his friends, just laughing over stories told, pausing to listen to whoever is up at the mic if they catch his ear. Harry suggests another round of drinks, and he walks up to where you’re behind bar in a pair of Levi’s shorts, head turned away as you’re filling up a glass from the tap, and as if you could sense someone there behind you, you’re already saying “I’ll be with you in a second” without even turning around. And when you hear a “take your time” in an accent that’s definitely not from one of your usual crowd, you quickly look over your shoulder and just as quickly turn back to the tap because holy shit…it’s actually Harry Styles at this bar of all places. And as you turn to take the drink you poured to the patron at the corner of the bar, Harry gets an actual look at you and thinks to himself oh wow…she’s pretty. Really, really pretty even in this low lighting. And as you slide your way back over to him, you ask “what can I get you?” in the most calm cool collected way you can manage. And maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s because he’s naturally a menace, but Harry says “your name” with a slight grin. And you won’t lie, hearing that from Harry Styles did make your heart start pumping faster, and a smirk starts to make its way to your mouth that Harry catches, but is shaken away as you roll your eyes because men really are the same no matter who they are and you respond “it’s y/n. Now seriously, what can I get you? They don’t look it, but this crowd can get rowdy if they don’t get their drinks in time even if I tell them that it was a young big shot rock star decided to hold up the line” And there it is. The little weight that settled on your shoulders for a second lifted because you know that he knows and he knows that you know who he is. But you also can’t help but notice the little bit of hurt that crossed Harry’s face when you responded. And Harry, he’s a little taken back by your sharp response, mouth dropped, but not so much shocked that you know who he is (he’s not conceited just knows how relevant/big he is). And he doesn’t know what it is whether it’s the fact that you’re so pretty, or the fact you tried to play it cool (the shocked-knowing glance you made at him when you thought he didn’t notice turns out was noticed) the alcohol, or the slight bite in your response, but he turns to look back at the booth with his friends and notices that they’re so deep into conversations and laughs and (some even dancing with some of the older patrons) honestly, haven’t noticed that Harry’s been gone for a moment. He looks back to you and says “Y/N” (that rolls nice off his lips), “I’m sorry, I’ll have one of whatever is on tap.” And you nod as you turn to pour his drink while Harry decides to settle in and take a seat at the bar. And when you place his drink on the table, he goes “Seriously, I’m sorry if I offended you or made you uncomfortable in anyway.”

2/ And you notice how genuine he sounds right now, and you were neither offended or uncomfortable, just more shocked that Harry Styles is asking for your name. You tell him “it’s fine, really, just wasn’t expecting /that/ from you. Anyways, what managed to bring you all the way over here?” And that’s how you two started talking about everything really even as you excused yourself to fill orders, the conversation was easily jumped back into. Harry told you of how he’s been on tour and just needed to feel like a person and you told him about yourself. How you took up bartending because you’re starting grad school in the fall and little stories about the old timey crowd that like to inhabit this place. Like how behind the dingy curtain on the little stage, there’s actually a mechanical bull that is hardly ever used now because too many drunk old people nearly breaking a hip trying to live out their Wild Wild West fantasy. And you both don’t really notice, but as the conversation has gone on, he’s leaned more across the bar as you’ve leaned closer to him as well. Harry’s noticing how your eyes crinkle when you laugh and the mole on your forearm as you stretch to hand people their drinks. And your beautiful doesn’t go missed by the kind elderly guests who he can hear make comments on how “you get prettier every time I see you y/n” And you’re really smart. When you told him what you’re going to grad school for, and what you’re researching, Harry was reminded how he stopped going to school at 16. And you’re noticing how easy he is to talk to. Surprisingly easy and despite being a huge celebrity, he’s really down to earth, still cocky but charming. He’s also so handsome, strikingly so, especially this close. Anyways, the night has gone on, more of the crowd turning in for the night, and you’re now around the bar, sitting on the stool next to Harry, knees occasionally knocking against each other, still talking. At some point you’re both broken out of whatever trance you’re both under by each other by one of Harry’s friends coming over to tell him that they’re all leaving and you think sadly to yourself that this weird, unexpected, encounter has come to an end. But when you see that Harry hasn’t gotten up from his stool, and he tell them that’s going to stay back and he’ll get a ride back later, something lights up in your belly. As they all wave back at him you send a wave off as well and Harry turns back to you and says “Is that okay with you? I’m honestly having a really great time talking with you.” And you swear steam could come out of your ears and your face is probably beet red right now as a high pitch “no, that’s fine, I’m really having a great time too. But I am going to have to start closing up now, so if you do want to leave…” and Harry is all “oh….well is it okay if I stay as you close up, give you some extra company? I promise I’ll stay out of your way, or I could help, you know?” And he adds with a smile, “Whatever I can do that’ll make you want me to stay, lovely” And that last part makes you smitten really as you nod okay to him. So the bar is now closed, and you’ve been going through your usual closing routine (it’s just you that night since it was Tuesday) and you just can’t believe Harry Styles is here helping you sweep and flip chairs onto tables (“I can help some. I used to be a baker you know?”) And you’ve plugged your phone into the speaker to play your Spotify as you clean and when you hear the opening of Canyon Moon, a shock runs up your spine as you pause mid tabletop wipe down and your eyes move to meet Harry who has looked up mid sweep. And you’re blushing again and stammering an apology of “I am so sorry let me change it” as you rush to your phone to change it as Harry who has gone back to sweeping says “no I like this one” with a grin and looks back to you. And you’re a little relieved but still embarrassed biting your lip as you tell him “yeah i do too” with a returned grin.

3/ And you both go back to cleaning and talking, you’ve both ended up in one of the booths, Your feet brushing against each other under the table as you finish up looking over inventory sheets between asking Harry about his tattoos (his sleeves rolled up,holding his arm out on the table as you admire and you didn’t miss the flex of his hand when you brushed against the one of the holy Bible asking if the placement of the bookmark means anything particular). And at some point Harry looks towards the stage at one point and asks “is there really a bull behind there?” And you told him “yeah and that bull has a name, and it’s Stella by the way named after an actual cow the owner had on a farm as a kid” and now you’re pulling the curtain to reveal, the very intimidating mechanical bull that takes up most of the tiny stage. And Harry’s all “can I ride it?” And you’re all “are you sure? I mean it hasn’t been used in awhile besides my coworkers when we’re fucking around after closing sometimes.” And Harry’s like “yeah it looks like fun.” And that’s how he ended up, on top of the bull, shoes discarded and socked feet, holding on with one hand as the bull bucked and you laughed at first because of how ridiculous he looked, and he’s laughing along with you having the time of his life too, but oh…the way he’s practically grinding against the seat is making you have some really impure thoughts. And you shake your head a little as he’s finally lost his bearings and has fallen off onto the protective padding below laughing his head off. And jokingly you say “23 seconds. And here id thought you’d last longer.”

4/ And Harry catches your shot at his ego as he gains his composure, rising up to where you are at the controls to say “heyyy now. Bet you can’t do better.” And you’re a little insulted at his assumption because you mentioned earlier to him that you and the rest of the workers here will occasionally ride the bull after work for fun and you’d managed stay on the longest several times thanks to your highly strategized technique you’ve developed, as you scoff “oh please I know how to ride” and your eyes widen because you didn’t mean for your response to be that saucy, but Harry is already looking at you with that smirk and says “well, show me how you ride then” and you swallow and agree and after giving harry a rundown on the easy to use controls, you’re perched on the bull. With the bull facing the away, your starting with your back towards Harry, and he can’t help but to notice your ass in your shorts again as it’s slightly arched on the bull with your hand in the air. Once he actually starts up the bull, he realizes how right you were about knowing how to ride. And he didn’t think this was possible but you’ve managed to make this whole activity seem graceful? In the way that you’re going with the motions of the bull. Harry also can’t help but notice how sexy you look up on it too, he can’t help but let his himself imagine you riding him like how you are on the bull right now. You rocking rhythmically back and forth on the saddle. Harry’s glad that he’s behind the controls right now as he reaches to his pants to discreetly adjust himself because he’s getting hard. And your gleeful laughter snaps him out of his dirty thoughts as you make eye contact with him, and it’s a split second but oh did you just see him? adjust himself? Oh… and it breaks you from your concentration as you’re flung from the bull a little harsher than expected onto the padding below. And Harry has exclaimed your name as he has stepped his way into the padding of the bull pen rushing to you as you’re rolled onto your side catching your breath laughing a little because this is, just so crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy that Harry Styles has not only showed up to your bar, but he /likes/ talking to you, he called you lovely and now, he’s hard over you. And Harry is leaned over you, rolling you onto your back, concern on his face, and asking “are you okay?” And you’re still trying to catch your breath as breathless laughs escape you as you tell him “yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

5/ And now you’re close, really close and really looking at each other as Harry goes to sweep some of your hair off your face. And you reach your hand up to softly brush against the bare skin of his tattooless arm. And you’re looking at Harry’s lips as he’s paused his ministrations in your hair looking down at you and smirks “you were right about knowing how to ride.” And a smile spreads across your face, and your eyes are doing that crinkled thing that Harry likes as you reply “oh, you think?” and your hand moves to tug on his collar, to bring him down to your face as you kiss him.

Anndddddd that’s all I’ve got lol.

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BESTIE....... BESTIE OH MY GOD HELLO??? IM SPEECHLESS IM... OMFG HIM BEING A LITTLE NERVOUS? YOU BOTH BEING SO EXCITED TO HANG OUT AFTER HOURS, AND THE REALIZATION THAT LIKE... OH FUCK HE’S ACTUALLY KIND OF INTO YOU... OH MY GOD

#long anon my beloved #harry chats

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ibelieveinharrystyles · 4 years ago

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Chapter Six: Empty Words and Emptier Promises

Ashley stared at the clock, the taxi to take her to the court was due to arrive in a matter of minutes, and yet Harry was nowhere to be seen, when she told him about the new date for the trial he promised he’d be by her side. But here she was, sitting alone on her sofa, she heard her doorbell ring, meaning the taxi driver had arrived, she was still managing to hide the bump, knowing there would be members of the press loitering outside trying to get a good picture. If Ashley was completely honest, she still hadn’t told Harry about the baby, even though she was almost five months pregnant, even when lockdown measures eased Harry still didn’t come back home. Ashley wasn’t stupid, she knew where he was because she followed dozens of fans on twitter, she knew full well he was having a nice time in Italy. Lottie was looking after Daisy, and Lou had agreed to meet Ashley at court, she had also been called as a witness, seeing as she was the one who found Ashley lying on the floor in the first place. Without the support of Lou, Lottie and Louis, Ashley had no clue where she’d be by now, they were the only people who knew about the baby, even when her mum came to London for Daisy’s birthday, she couldn’t tell her. Compared to Daisy’s pregnancy she felt so disconnected, she had been to all the necessary scans, but she didn’t feel the glow, she didn’t feel the joy, she just felt alone.

As she had expected there were several members of the press waiting outside the court, although neither Ashley or Harry had publicly confirmed their relationship, most people had worked it out. Ashley climbed out of the taxi, ensuring her top effectively concealed her baby bump. Lou was there to meet her, welcoming her with open arms. The pair made their way up the stairs and into the court building, “So Harry’s a no show then?” Lou asked.

“Yep, I’ve been texting him all week, as far as I was aware he was going to be here today.” Ashley explained.

“Oh Ash, I’m so sorry, how’s things with you and the baby?”

“Fine, I almost feel like it's not real, Harry still doesn’t know.” Ashley told her.

“When do you think you’ll tell him?” Lou asked.

“When he decides to show up.”

“Hello stranger,” Ashley looked over her shoulder to see both Louis and Niall, she half expected Louis to come, but seeing Niall provided an added sense of relief, “Lou thought you might need some moral support.” Niall told her.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you both,” Ashley told them, “I know it’s a big thing for you both to come, so it truly means the world to me.”

“Ash, we’ve been mates for ten years, that counts for something.” Louis assured her.

“Try telling Harry that.” Ashley replied.

“Is he not coming?” Niall asked.

“He’s sunning it up in Italy,” Ashley remarked bitterly, as Will and his barrister walked past the group.

“There goes the man of the hour,” Niall muttered.

“I swear if I’d been there I would’ve decked him,” Louis told them discreetly.

The trial was well in progress and Ashley had finally been called to the stand, as she stepped up to the box she looked up at Louis, Niall and Lou. “I swear that the evidence I give today shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” she read from the sheet.

“Thank you, Miss Hanson you’re in a relationship with Mr Harry Styles aren’t you?” The barrister asked.

“I mean I’m not really sure what relevance that has,” Ashley told him.

“It’s relevant Miss Hanson, when did your dalliances with Mr Styles start?” He continued.

“December last year.”

“When you were still in a relationship with my client Mr Clarkson?”

“We kissed two weeks before Will attacked me,” Ashley told him.

“Did it ever go further than that?” He asked.

“No, not when I was with Will.” Ashley replied.

“So, do you not think it was expected for Will to be angry that his partner of a year cheated on him with a global megastar?”

“I don’t really see how Harry’s success and wealth have any relevance, and I don’t understand how you can try and blame me for Will’s actions,” Ashley told him, “You seem to be trying to justify his unlawful beating of a woman, by the fact that whilst I was in an unloving relationship I was in love with another man, who yes on several occasions I met up in secret with. But last time I checked, nothing I have ever done with Harry has been illegal.”

“Are you pregnant Miss Hanson?” He asked her abruptly.

“How the fuck do they know about that?” Louis whispered to Lou.

Ashley remained silent, “I’ll ask the question again, are you pregnant Miss Hanson?” Will’s barrister asked.

“Yes I am, not that I see how that's relevant, and that information stays within this courtroom, if me or our legal team hear of that information being leaked to the press you will be sued for every last penny you have.”

“And when was the baby conceived?” He asked.

“February.”

“Are you completely sure of that?” The barrister asked.

“Well I know when I had sex with my boyfriend, and I also got an A in A Level biology so I know how the reproductive system works.”

“No further questions, your honour,” The barrister told Ashley.

All the witnesses had been called and the jury were busy making their verdict, Ashley sat in between Niall and Louis. “It’s going to be okay Ash, they can’t let him get off.” Niall assured her. The jury promptly returned and took their seats, “Could the foreman of the jury please rise?” The judge declared, “On the count of grievous bodily harm do you find the defendant Will Clarkson guilty or not guilty?”

The pause felt like an eternity, Ashley was on edge, Niall took hold of her hand, holding it tight, “Guilty.” The foreman announced, tears streamed from Ashley’s eyes as she let out an overwhelmed sigh of relief.

“We said it would all work out didn’t we?” Louis whispered, wrapping an arm around her.

“Mr Clarkson, you will serve a minimum sentence of twelve months, when you are released, the restraining order, preventing you from any contact with Miss Hanson or her daughter. Take him down.” The judge said.

“I can’t believe it’s finally over,” Ashley whispered, watching as Will was taken down to the holding area.

“You were incredible Ash,” Lou told her.

“You really were, how about we all go for drinks to celebrate?” Louis suggested.

“Not sure if that’s the best idea,” Ashley replied, gesturing to her bump. “But Lottie’s back at mine looking after Daisy, we could go back and join them, order in a takeaway like the old days?”

“That is an incredible idea,” Niall declared, throwing an arm around Ashley’s shoulder before the group made their way out of the building.

Back at Ashley’s house everyone was sitting in the living room, watching Daisy as she performed a new dance that she had been perfecting, Ashley stood at the island in the kitchen, organising all the food that had been delivered from the chinese takeaway. “Anything I can do to help?” Niall asked, appearing at the door.

“If you could just unwrap those few things and take them into the kitchen you’d be a lifesaver.” Ashley smiled, gesturing to the untouch carrier bag.

“So how are things going with our dear Harold?” Niall asked.

“I never know what's going on with him Niall, he promised me he would come back for the trial, he knew exactly when it was, he also missed Daisy’s fourth birthday, and I haven’t had the chance to tell him about the baby.” Ashley explained.

“How come you haven’t told him?” Niall continued.

“It didn’t seem right to tell him over facetime, and I don’t have a clue how to tell him, I know he wants a family more than anything, but whenever gets on tour I will effectively be a single parent.” Ashley explained.

“I’m so sorry Ash, it’s a shit situation, but I think there’s more than enough love between you two to make things work, and besides, now his schedule is way less busy than when we were touring as a band, he’ll put in the effort to make it work for you both.” Niall assured her.

“I’m worried though, if you were Harry, would you have handled it how he has?” Ashley replied.

“Probably not Ash, but you know what he’s like, sometimes he likes to work things out in his own space.” Niall replied.

“I just wanted him there more than anything Niall.” Ashley sighed, glancing at the photobooth pictures of them from his 21st birthday that sat in a frame on the window sill, Niall proceeded to take a couple of the plates into the living room as Ashley picked up the frame. “Come back to me H.” She whispered, looking up at the amber sunset.

February 2015

“Happy birthday Harry!” Ashley slurred as she entered the venue, stumbling with each step.

“Hey there Ash, I’ve got you love.” Harry smiled, taking hold of both her arms. The party had only been going for a couple of hours and Ashley was already very much plastered.

“You’re amazing Harry, I love you loads.” Ashley smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek, she looked up at him, moving to kiss him on the lips.

“You don’t want to do that Ash, not while you’re drunk.” Harry insisted, moving out of her way, “Come on, let’s grab you some water instead.”

“I don’t deserve you Harry, you’re too pure for this world.”

***

Harry was restless, he stood on the balcony of his room, staring at the starry skies of Italy, over thinking all the mistakes he’d made in the last four months. He felt dreadful for not being at the trial, he didn’t even know what the outcome was, Ashley hadn’t called or texted to let him know. He dialled her number quickly before he had the time to change his mind, she answered pretty quickly. “Hey baby.” He whispered, holding to his ear.

“Hey.” She replied softly.

“How did it go today?” Harry asked, knowing he had let her down.

“He got twelve months.” Ashley told him, cradling her baby bump as she snacked on a pot of cookie dough ice cream.

“That’s good isn’t it?” Harry replied.

“It was pretty shit actually H, his barrister tore our relationship to pieces,” Ashley sighed, “We haven’t publicly addressed the rumours so I assumed Will filled him in on everything, but he knew stuff that only a handful of people were aware of.” Ashley told him, meaning the baby.

“Like what?” Harry asked.

“Nothing really, just little things.” She told him, “When are you coming home H?”

Harry paused, if he was honest, he didn’t have a clue, “Soon baby, I promise.”

“That’s what you said last time H, I haven’t seen you since February, I needed you there today.” her voice began to wobble as tears formed in her eyes.

“I know love, my head’s been a bit all over the place, I needed to get out of the city.” Harry explained, holding his head in his hand.

“Harry you were in LA for three months, thats a fucking massive city.” Ashley told him angrily, “Ever since we went into lockdown I’ve been picking up the pieces of what you left behind, for two months the only person I’ve had contact with has been Daisy, who is now four, in case you had forgotten that.”

“I know I’ve been stupid Ash, I’ll make it up to you both I promise.” Harry replied, his voice now wobbling too.

“Don’t make empty promises we both know you can’t keep.” Ashley sobbed, “I don’t know if I can do this anymore H, you mean the world to me and it’s tearing me up inside. I’m not sure if I can be that person.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she told him the cold hard truth.

“Don’t say that Ash, please don’t do this.” Harry replied.

“Let me go H, please just let me go.” Ashley whispered, she ended the call, the phone slipping straight from her hand, she was broken, they were broken.

#harry styles #one direction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #one direction memes #best friend harry #harry styles fanfic #niall horan #harry styles lockscreen #harry styles layout

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atlafan · 5 years ago

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My Everything - Part Three

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: Fluff and Smut.

a/n: not proofread fam, I didn’t have the strength.

Masterpost

“Oh!” You pause the TV.

“Y/N! It’s the middle of the second season finale are you fuckin’ kidding?!”

“I forgot to tell you something earlier.” You giggle.

“Alright, what is it?”

“Our new intern goes to my college, my undergrad, and he’s part of the film club, the one I helped create when I was a student, and he asked me to come to a meeting next Thursday. Would you wanna come with me? The meeting itself is at like 8PM, but I thought we could go beforehand, I could give you a little tour…”

“He asked you to come to a meeting?”

“Yeah! He wants me to like explain what I do now, and how being the film club helped me in a professional sense. He’s even going to email the director of alumni relations to see if they’ll do an article on me for the alumni magazine, but I doubt they will.”

“Why not? You’re incredibly successful, and didn’t you say an alum helped you get the job? I bet once you tell them that they’d feature you. You could talk about how important the alumni network is.”

“Harry!” You squeal and tackle him down, kissing him all over his face. He starts laughing underneath you.

“What? What?” He could barely breathe from your sudden affection.

“You’re so cute when you’re being supportive.” You nuzzle into his neck and he rubs your back.

“Well then I must be cute all the time then, huh?”

“Mhm.”

You forgot how beautiful your campus could be in the fall. Even though it was in the city, it had some beautiful parks and pathways. After work you had changed into a pair of jeans and a blouse. You didn’t want to look too fancy. You showed Harry different buildings where you had class, and the dorm you lived in freshman year. You both decide to go eat at a pub you used to love.

“Harry, it’s okay, have a beer if you want.”

“But I feel bad…”

“I really don’t mind. I’m fine with the seltzer water.” You smile reassuringly and he order the beer.

Once you’re done with everything you walk him around some more. You show him where you lived sophomore year, and then start walking towards the building where the film club meeting is. You see a group of people walking towards you and you gasp.

“No fucking way.” You groan and hide slightly behind Harry.

“What?”

“Nothing, we just need to walk very fast by-“

“Y/N?” A man says.

“Shit.” You say under your breath. “Um, Chris?”

“What are you doing here?!” He goes to hug you but you clutch at Harry.

“I was invited to a film club meeting…what are you doing here? I thought you graduated…”

“I did! I’m an RD.” He smiles and looks at Harry.

“Sorry, uh, this is my fiancé, Harry.”

“Hey, mate.” They shake hands.

“Wow! Congratulations. Well I won’t keep you. We should catch up sometime.”

“Sure.” You give him a fake smile and keep walking. “Gag me.”

“Who was that?”

“A guy I hooked up with like once, and he wouldn’t leave me alone. It took me going to California for him to stop asking me to come over. It was so annoying. Like take a hint dude.”

“Why didn’t you wanna hook up with him again?” Harry asks with a laugh.

“Oh, like you would always hit it twice.”

“Good point.” He smirks. “Suppose I don’t blame him, I mean, I’ve seen what that ass looks like when it’s bouncing up and down on my cock, I’d probably want you to come over again too.”

“Harry!” You smack him in the arm, making him laugh. “One beer at dinner and you’ve gone all goofy.”

“I’m just teasin’.” He throws his arm around your shoulders as you continue your walk to the building.

“Here it is, let me just text Zach that we’re here.” You both wait a few minutes, and Zach comes out to open the door.

“Hi, Y/N! Thanks again for coming, everyone is really excited. You must be Harry.” He smiles and shakes Harry’s hand. You both walk into the building. “Y/N talks about you all the time, it’s so cool that you have your own photography studio. I bet you could show some of these guys a thing or two.”

Harry liked Zach so far, he seemed polite and genuine.

“All the time, huh?” He nudges you.

“Not all the time, only when it’s relevant.”

Zach leads you into the room you knew very well. It was a computer lab you used to hold your film club meetings in. There was a screen, projector, white boards, all things you and your friends needed to have productive meetings.

“Hey, everyone!” About fifteen or so students turn to look at you and Harry. “This is Y/F/N Y/L/N and her fiancé Harry, Y/N graduated in 2017 and she’s one of my supervisors at my internship. She is one of the founding members of this club!” They all clap for you, and you’re a little surprised. “Come on in, tell them about yourself, what you do.”

You step further into the room so you can see everyone clearly.

“Thanks Zach, um, hi everyone!” You say brightly. “I’m feeling really nostalgic right now since I used to have my meetings in here too. We worked on so many cool projects, and my sophomore year we even made a short film that I stared in.” Harry’s eyebrows raise. He didn’t know you were in front of the camera as well as behind it.

“That’s why you look so familiar! At the beginning of every school year we watch a ton of past projects. You played the girl that went missing right?” A students says.

“Yeah, that was me.” You laugh.

“And you made that one about the purple pencil, that cracks me up.” Another says.

“Yes…that one was like a film challenge that the president at the time had us do. It was a lot of fun. Being in this club really took me out of my comfort zone. I never would’ve learned how to properly use a camera for filming or even taking pictures if it weren’t for film club. I have a job in marketing now where I get to edit video and sound clips, and I even supervise part of our social media department now. I really enjoy what I do.”

“Y/N was able to do well in her interview because another alum was already working there, and gave her some tips.” Zach explains.

“That’s right. It’s really important to know who your alums are, that’s why LinkedIn is so crucial.”

“Could you pull yours up?” A student asks.

“Sure! If that’s something everyone wants to see…”

They all agree and Zach logs onto the computer that’s connected to the projector. Harry takes pictures of you while you’re going over your LinkedIn.

“I think the best advice I could give is just don’t be afraid to try things. If you want to get better at something you need to practice. I went from using Windows Movie Maker, to iMovie, and now I use Adobe Premiere. It’s okay if things take time, and if there is something you want to do and you’re not sure how, don’t be afraid to Google it. I remember I had no idea how to do like a slow zoom, and I just looked it up and it was super easy to get the hang of. Create the content you’d want to watch, and have fun with it.” You smile.

A few students ask you some questions, and you end up giving out some of your business cards, good thing you brought them. Some students wanted to be able to reach out to you for resume help.

“Thanks again for coming. I’m gonna put another bug in the director’s ear. I think this is something that should be in the magazine. Oh! Do you plan to come to Homecoming Weekend?” Zach asks.

“Um.” You blink. “God, I haven’t gone to Homecoming since I was a student myself.” You snort.

“It’s alumni weekend too, you should come. I’ll be working at the alumni table, then I could introduce you.”

“When is it?”

“First weekend of October.” You look up at Harry. He looks at the calendar on his phone.

“Think I’m free…” He says.

“We could certainly try to swing by…that’s like next weekend…I have some friends that might wanna come too.”

“I can send you an email with the registration link and with all the activities for the weekend. It’s a lot of fun, as I’m sure you remember.”

“Yeah, I sort of participated in different activities…” You blush.

“Well either way.” He shrugs.

“I’ll let you know at work if we’ll be able to go. This was a lot of fun though, I’ll come back any time.”

You say goodbye to everyone, and walk out hand in hand with Harry.

“You’re really good at explaining things.” He says to you.

“What do you mean?”

“Like…you never got frustrated, or annoyed. Some of their questions were stupid, I easily would’ve gotten aggravated.”

“They don’t know what they don’t know.”

“All I’m saying is, like, ten years from now I could see you bein’ a professor or somethin’. You’ll have your MEd, you could teach an online class as a TL and see how you like and then go from there. You love learning, Y/N, why not get paid to do it?”

“I think I could see that for myself, but yeah, ten years from now. I’m curious to see how I could keep moving up at work. It would be weird to leave there. I mean, I know people don’t stay at the same place for thirty years anymore…but it would be sad to go. Plus I would miss Niall way too much.”

“Yeah, but he could easily find another job if he wanted. You shouldn’t stay somewhere just because your friends are there.”

“Says the person that persuaded the two friends he made at work to follow him to his studio.” You nudge him playfully.

“Alright you got me there, but seriously, don’t use him as an excuse.”

“I know, you’re right. Let me actually get the Med first, and then I’ll start thinking about things I wanna do years from now, okay?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You both get into your car and head home.

“So I know we like just got engaged, but I was thinking while the weather is still nice it might not be a bad idea to start lookin’ at some potential spots we’d wanna get married at…” You could tell he was slightly nervous to bring it up.

“I think that’s a good idea. I think you and I need to sit down and consider a budget before we hop in the car and start looking. We need to do some research online.”

“That money you wouldn’t let me pay you I was thinking could go towards the wedding.”

“Harry.” You sigh. “Shouldn’t that money go back towards the business? Or couldn’t it be saved for a holiday bonus for Mariah and Isaac.”

“I have money set aside for that already.” He says matter of factly. “You won’t let me pay you, and that’s money you’ve earned. So we should use it towards something.”

“Fine.”

“At least we’ll save money on a photographer. Mariah’s really talented.”

“I know! She’s great at capturing the moment. Did you want her to be the one to take the photos?”

“Considering how Lou’s probably going to be my best man, she’s the only other person I would trust.”

“That’s so cute you both are gonna be each other’s best men.” You giggle. “I sort of had an idea for Niall.”

“I’d really rather him be in my wedding party, he’s been my friend longer, and-“

“Actually, I don’t want him in either of our wedding parties.” You pull into the parking garage and you both get out.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s the whole reason we’re together right?”

“Yeah.”

“So…why not let him be the one to make it official?” Harry stops short when you get into the lobby of your building.

“You want him to officiate the wedding?”

“Yeah…it just feels right.” You shrug. You both get into the elevator. “What do you think?”

“I think I need to make sure I’m filming when we tell him because he’s gonna cry.” Harry smiles. “It’s a great idea, Y/N.”

“We should pick up a little gift for him, or like take him to dinner.”

“Ohhh, I like that.” He kisses your cheek as you both enter your apartment.

Buster greets the two of you, he was doing much better. You both sit down on the sofa and flip the TV on.

“Who were you thinkin’ for your wedding party then?”

“Well, it’s going to be really hard to pick a maid of honor…it always supposed to be Kate. I was her, you know? But obviously that’s not happening. I don’t know how I’d be able to choose between Sarah and Rachel.” You sigh. “I’m equally close with them…I’ll have to talk to them about it and see what they think, honestly. I don’t want anyone’s feelings getting hurt.” Harry nods. “Then my sisters would be in the party too, El of course.” You think a bit more. “That might actually be it. I have other girlfriends, but I don’t need a ton of bridesmaids. What about you?”

“Louis, obviously, Mitch…him and Sarah said congrats by the way I completely forgot to tell you. I was thinking of maybe askin’ Isaac…I’d like my sister to be in my party too.”

“Aw, that would be so cute! Oh, and I bet by the time we actually do get married Michael will be able to walk all on his own, he could be like the flower boy or something.”

“That would be really cute. Didn’t you say you wanted it to be kind of Jewish too? Like you wanted someone there to bless us?”

“My cantor from my old temple, yeah…but we don’t have to if that’s too formal.”

“No, I think it would be nice to add in there. I just don’t wanna wear the little hat if that’s okay.”

“Don’t worry.” You laugh. “You don’t have to wear the little hat.” You burst out laughing.

“What?” Harry laughs.

“I was just picturing Gemma walking one of my sisters down the aisle.” You wipe tears from your eyes. “We’ll really have to figure all this out soon.”

“That would be pretty funny.” He puts his arm around you and pulls you close. “It’s nice talkin’ about this without it bein’ hypotheticals, like, this is really happening.” He kisses your forehead.

“I know, I’m really excited, babe.” You give him a quick peck. “We just need to get through Erica’s wedding and Lou and El’s.”

“I know, a lot is gonna happen all at once.” He sighs. “Lou’s is before your sister’s though, June if I’m remembering from the save the date correctly.”

“Yeah, and Erica’s is in July, I could kill her.”

“Why?” He chuckles.

“Because it’s going to be the dead of summer, we’re going to look sweaty and gross. And of course she’s getting married at some farm, so it’s gonna be all humid and blah.” You groan. “Whatever makes her happy I suppose. I’m just glad Mike finally asked her, took him long enough.”

“Everyone does everything in their own time, baby. Weren’t they really young when they first got together?”

“Yeah she was a senior in high school, and he was out of school for a couple of years…it was a pretty cute way they met. She was working at a RiteAid at this outlet mall, and he was working at Game Stop, and I guess he would go to RiteAid like every day for a snack on his lunch break, and he would say hi to everyone but her, so one day she gave him shit for it and they started talking. Turns out his aunt was our neighbor and we had like played with him when we were kids and didn’t even know. And his older sister was best friends with Bridget when they were in high school.”

“Wow, small world.”

“Right?”

“That is a pretty cute story, but I like ours better.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Yeah, I mean, how romantic is it that a mutual friend set us up, and we had this really great dinner date?”

“It’s pretty romantic, doll.” You yawn. “Yikes, I’m tired. I’m glad tomorrow’s Friday.”

“Me too, let’s head to bed.” He stretches as he stands and follows you to the bedroom.

It felt so good to sleep in Saturday morning. You stretch as you sit up, and start to get out of bed, but Harry yanks you down to him, making you squeal.

“Why do you always insist on gettin’ right up?” He mumbles as he wraps himself around you to spoon you.

“I don’t want Buster to shit himself.” You giggle.

“He knows to go on the piddle pad if we don’t get right up.” He pushes his morning wood against your ass.

“Jesus.” You groan. “You don’t wanna cuddle, you just wanna having a morning fuck.” His arm slips up under your shirt so he can caress one of your breasts.

“I want both.” He says into your ear. His hand slides down to between your legs and he smirks. “Seems like you do too.” He starts to rub circles on your clit while he grinds against you. You back up against him to really feel how hard he is.

Heavy petting was rare between you two. Usually you would just end up diving into the sex, but this first thing in the morning was like heaven. The way he would really ease you into it. His fingers slowly start to slip inside, and you find yourself turning onto your stomach. Harry gets full on top of you, his chest flush with your back. You your ass up slightly so he can continue to finger and rub you. He gets his fingers in and then drags them out and up to your clit. You moan out in your pillow. He continues to grind against your ass, getting right between your cheeks. He had his boxers on so you weren’t worried about anything slipping into the wrong hole.

“You’re so wet.” He groans. “Want me to fuck you, baby?”

“Yes.”

He leans up, only for a moment, to get his boxers off. He gets back on you the way he was, nice and close, and slides in.

“Ah, fuck.” You moan out.

Harry keeps his fingers on your clit while he rocks in and out of you. His other hand slides up to the back of your head, and he gets a light grip on your hair. He knows not to pull too hard.

“Feels good, angel?”

“So good, Harry.”

He continues to rock in and out of you, and once you come from him rubbing on your clit, he pulls out to flip you over. He yanks your shirt off so you’re fully exposed to him. He slides back in and wraps his lips around one of your nipples. One of your hands is tugging on his hair while the other is digging into his back.

“Really give it me, babe, come on.”

“Want it hard, Y/N?”

“Hard and fast.”

Harry grins and sits up, grabbing both of your legs to put over his shoulders. He stretches his neck and cracks his knuckles, making you laugh. He loved when you two would laugh when you were intimate. It didn’t always need to be so serious. He pulls out nearly all the way and slams back into you. You gasp at the feeling, but you love it. He does this over and over, picking up the pace each time, making the bed start to shake. He was hitting the right spot over and over. You fist at the blankets with your head slamming far into your pillow. You grit your teeth as you feel your orgasm approaching. He could tell you were close from the way you were clenching around him. He almost wanted to pull out and make you beg him for it, but he also loved seeing how far gone you were and didn’t want to tease you. He knew he was hitting just the right spot, just a few more thrusts…

“Holy shit!” You scream as everything in your vision goes white. Tears well up in your eyes as he fucks you through the orgasm that was making you feel like you were going to collapse from within. “Oh my god, Harry! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Your praise was enough to make him lose it, and his come spurts inside you, filling you to the brim. He looks down at you to see your chest still heaving. He pulls out of you slowly and you whimper from the loss of contact. He leans down and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

“Good game.” He shakes your hand.

“Oh, shut up.” You swat at him and laugh.

You both shower quick, and go out to feed Buster. He did, in fact, need to use the piddle pad. After he eats Harry takes him out for a proper walk while you get some breakfast for the two of you going. Just some simple oatmeal.

“So, do you wanna go over a budget today? We could set up at the dining room table, and you could get a spreadsheet goin’ on your laptop.”

“Yeah, we can definitely do that.” You smile.

You and Harry sit down at the dining table, while Buster rests his head in your lap as he sits at your feet.

“Does he do that a lot?”

“Hm?” You look down at Buster. “Yeah, he likes to sit under my desk like that with me at work.” You grin at Harry. “He’s just like his daddy.” You pinch his cheek and he swats your hand away.

“Shut up.” He nudges your shoulder. “Want me to replace him right now, cause I will.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You pull up excel and name a bunch of rows with what you’ll need money for. Venue, food, drinks, photographer/videographer, DJ, hotel rooms, bachelorette/bachelor party, bridal shower, dress, etc.

“My friend Adam, the guy we got Buster from, is actually a really good DJ…”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, he always used to put playlists together for our parties and stuff. I’m pretty sure he has a DJ business on the side. I could ask him what his rates are.”

“That would be great. So…I don’t want this to be crazy expensive…like it seems silly to drop what could someday be a down payment on a house on a party for one night.”

“I agree. I don’t want it to get out of hand. I feel like the venue will be the most expensive. Let’s try to figure out where we want it so we can compare prices. Some hotels have the food and drinks included and some don’t.”

“I think…like in my wildest dreams, I’d love for it to be at a hotel on the Cape, like have the beach behind us…the ceremony outside, and then the reception would be indoors, but maybe there’s this outside patio area or something?”

“Ohh, I can really picture that. We both love the beach, let’s look and see.”

“I feel like that’s gonna be expensive.”

“We won’t know unless we look.” He grabs your laptop and opens Google. “Maybe we could find an inn or somethin’.”

“True, that would be cute actually.”

The two of you see the different options out there and find two you really like. You book a couple of tours on their websites so you can physically see the spaces.

“Oh, I wanted to ask, are we doin’ like a traditional cake or did you want cupcakes? I’ve seen a lot of people save money on just doin’ cupcakes, and then havin’ a small cake just made for the couple.”

“I think that’s a great idea. Then we could have a variety of cupcakes so everyone could find something they like. There’s a bakery I really like that back home that did my Bat Mitzvah cake, I’d like to go there to maybe do a tasting?”

“Sure.” He smiles. “I’ll let you set that up, and you can just tell me when.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe we could do like a lemon cake since we both like that.”

“Mm, my mouth is already watering. I’ll definitely set that up soon. I guess there’s not much else we can really do until we set a date, and then we can work backwards.”

“Guess you’re right.” He rubs his eyes and rests his chin in his palm. “What were you thinking for a bachelor and bachelorette?”

“God, I have no idea. I’m the sure the girls will think of something.”

“Did you wanna do a combined thing, or be completely separate. S’not like it’ll be the night before the wedding, like it could be a month or so ahead.”

“To be honest, I’d like to have a weekend with just the girls…”

“Alright.”

“Is that okay? I mean, I had a lot of fun for my birthday, but-“

“No, I really don’t mind. I just didn’t know if you wanted a combined trip, but we can have separate things.” He shrugs.

“What do you think you wanna do?”

“I was thinin’ maybe like a trip to Mohegan Sun with the guys. We went years ago, and it was a lot of fun.”

“Oo, do a little gambling, that would be fun.” You sigh. “I’m not gonna be able to drink during any of this.” You groan.

“You’ll still have fun, baby.”

“I know, but I’m gonna have to tell my friends why I’m not drinking…”

“You can just say you’re on a medication that doesn’t allow you to consume alcohol, you don’t have to specify any more than that if you don’t want to. Do you really think they’ll judge you?”

“It’s not the judgement…it’s the look on their faces I know they’ll give me. The medication has helped me a lot, I think.”

“I’m really proud of you for taking it so consistently.”

“I just take it with my birth control…it’s easy to remember.”

“Babe.” He saves the file you were working on and closes your laptop. He turns so his body is facing yours. “Can you take a second and just think about how far you’ve come? In the year that I’ve know you, you’ve made so many great steps. I can remember times you getting so frustrated because you never thought you’d be in a place where we’d be able to just go at it. I mean, think of how we had sex just this morning. You weren’t in a place this time last year to be able to do that, and now you are. I know it’s not just about sex, there’s a lot of mental progress you’ve made too, but I feel like physically, I just feel so close with you, I feel like every time we do it we get closer.” Your eyes were glossy while you listened to him.

You felt overwhelmed by his kind words. He was right about everything. You had made a ton of progress, and you didn’t reflect on it as much as you should. You stand up and he pushes his seat you. You sit down on him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, and nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. He holds you close and rubs your back. Buster yips at the two of you, clearly upset that his head was no longer comfortably resting in your lap. You both look down at him.

“He really is just like me, huh?”

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alwaysdowntohidewithyou · 5 years ago

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Florence Welch Interview

Transcript of Florence Welch’s interview with John Seabrook for the New Yorker Festival.

October 11th, 2019.

New York, NY.

Edited for clarity.

John Seabrook: I’m going to properly introduce you because I think a woman this accomplished needs a proper introduction. For those of you who read the New Yorker this week, let me assure you that I wrote this myself, no machine helping me. In ten years as a band, Florence and the Machine have released four chart topping, award winning studio albums. Lungs, 2009, Ceremonials, 2011, How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful, 2015, and High as Hope last year. These many-layered works weave together a range of different styles, from the bands punky first single “Kiss With a Fist,” to the rich choral and percussive tapestries of songs like “Shake It Out,” to Neo-Soul such as “Where Is the Love” (sic), and to the startlingly honest lyrics of “Hunger.” Heartbreak and loneliness rarely feel as delightful and inviting as in a Florence Welch song. The music performs the very rare trick of remaining true to its indie roots while at the same time, sounding expansive and monumental. While British listeners sometimes look to Kate Bush as a musical antecedent, here in New York, we are maybe more inclined to think of Patti Smith, in her path-finding career as a poet who found a way to address the big issues of literature, death, love loneliness, and beauty in the idiom popular song. And we are especially inclined to think of you as following Patti tonight because you are literally sitting in the seat that Patti was warming only an hour ago.

The band has also released two live albums that established themselves as major festival headliners, with a sound big enough to fill the green fields of Glastonbury and deserts of Coachella—where the artist broke her foot performing in 2015. With lyrics intimate enough to touch each individual heart in the crowd of 100,000, Florence lent her extraordinary vocal talents to Calvin Harris’ “Sweet Nothing,” and her eye for clothes and visual imagery to the band’s 29 music videos. She has also recorded several outstanding covers including “Stand By Me,” “Tiny Dancer,” and Buddy Holly’s “Not Fade Away.” And finally, and most relevant to the discussion tonight, Florence is the author of this book, “Useless Magic,” which is a 2018 collection of her lyrics, poems, journal entries, and sketches, which will serve as our primary text for this evening. Here ends the introduction.

Florence Welch: (Laughs) Thank you so much for having me. Oh, British people find it really hard to hear the things that they’ve done.

J: I know, you’re so modest. It’s hard to hear all that.

F: Everyone’s cheering and I’m like, “Oh no.” This is my nightmare.

J: Let’s take a deep breath and not talk about your accomplishments any more.

F: Okay, good. That’s done, that’s done. (Laughs)

J: Let’s talk about—you’re on a bit of a hiatus at the present from touring. Can we start there? Talk about how that happened, where that came from.

F: Yeah, of course. Well, I definitely wanted to do the New Yorker, because I love the New Yorker so much. So, this was the last thing that I said yes to. I’m very glad I did, you guys are very loud! Yeah, the last—well, I’ve been touring, oh my gosh, I’ve been touring since I was twenty-one? And it is kind of a cycle of two years of—actually we did not stop touring between Lungs and Ceremonials, because we booked a U2 tour somewhere in the middle when we were supposed to be making the next record, and they were like, “You’ve got to do this. This is pretty big.” Like, oh. Okay. And you know, that was a big thing that helped get us going in America. But I was trying to make Ceremonials as well, so yeah, Lungs and Ceremonials was just sort of one—ugh, I don’t know how long that was. Like five years of touring?

And then I had a break. And it was also kind of a breakdown (laughs). Which is what happens when you don’t stop touring for five years. But actually, I don’t know. I don’t think that was because of the touring, I think it was then when the touring stopped, all the structures that I’d been using...with touring you’re kind of very taken care of, so you can be quite a high functioning fuck-up, which is what I was. Very high functioning, but so self-destructive and with such a lack of any will to take care of myself. People take care of you on tour. Like, if you show up and do the show, people get you dressed, and you ripped all your clothes, and they’ll carry you to a plane. The thing is that I never messed up any shows, which was weird. Like I would mess up hotel rooms, and my whole life, and my relationships, and blah blah blah. But never the shows, so, I don’t know what that was about (laughs).

Then I went back on tour for How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful, after my break slash breakdown, and that was the first tour that I’d done sober and...yeah, it was amazing. The whole process of that record and kind of how heartbroken I was not just over a relationship, but also the breakdown of my relationship with partying and how those things that I thought defined me didn’t work anymore.

And this person really didn’t want to go out with me. Which now, in hindsight, I really don’t blame them for because I don’t know if you want to date someone who shows up at your house with a bottle of vodka shouting, “Why will you not go out with me?” And they’re like, “Because of this. All of this.” And I’m like, “I don’t understand!” Now I kind of really respect them for that. Like, “Oh wow, ‘cause like you had a sense of self, and you had self-respect, I get it!” But yeah, How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful, was a huge healing process, and when I came to the end of it, I did this thing where I dove straight into making High as Hope. I think I’m a person who works in extremes, so again, I didn’t stop working for...I just didn’t stop. I don’t know how to relax. I think that’s probably clear, so I started making High as Hope immediately and that meant that the next tour came around really fast. Although I would say that these shows that I’ve just done have been my favorite I’ve ever done, I loved them.

J: Where were they?

F: Well, all over the world. They were in loads of different places. But it was again, like a year and a half of travel and I’m not a natural traveler. Like I’m not—

J: You don’t like flying I think? F: Oh my god, I’m so scared of flying. It’s the worst! I had hypnotism on it and it wore off (laughs). Nobody told me that hypnotism wears off! Or I just think my anxiety is so powerful that it destroyed the hypnotism. It like, defeated it. I remember reading that the lead singer of The Liars is also really afraid of flying. I think it could be a lead singer thing as well, ‘cause you think that you are the center of the universe and if something really dramatic and catastrophic is going to happen, it should happen to you. So I think there’s a level of ego involved with the fear of flying that I’m hoping in time, I will dismantle.

I find travel in itself, and being away—especially without kind of the crutch of, you know, partying—I get lonely and it’s hard. Although I love the shows and performing, it’s such a big part of me, I...after this tour, I was just worn out by the travel. I was like, I just need to not get on planes for awhile, and I really need to just stay in one place, and try and be like, a human, because although performing runs in my veins, touring is so monotonous, and it starts to feel like you’re losing your mind—and I don’t have much left to lose. So I need it.

J: And there really isn’t any better way to do it probably, right?

F: I keep wondering. I was like, to my manager, “I’m thirty-three, I can’t sleep on a bus anymore!” She’s like, “This is how it is.” You know, I keep trying to think of ways to make it more holistic, but we’ve tried everything and there’s just no getting around the travel because people want to see you, and I’m so lucky to have the fan base in so many places that I do, and I appreciate people and I want to see them. But it means you’re going to have to sleep on a moving vehicle. Which is fucking weird (laughs). When you’re not passed out drunk it’s weird.

J: It’s not like, you curl up in your bunk and the bus takes off and you wake up in the next place the next morning?

F: I don’t know, my brain is so juttery anyway, like sleeping on something that is juttery is a nightmare for me. When I’m trying to sleep on a bus, I’m already someone who tends to get really stuck in their head, and my head is a place that rattles around, so to be in the actual physical representation of that every night, is like a nightmare. I’ve always had a hard time sleeping since I was a kid, and I’m a really light sleeper, always kind of dreaming. I don’t know if I ever get that deep, so yeah. Some things are easier when you can just pass out drunk.

J: Right. We’ll get to that part. Let’s jump back to the beginning of your career. We’re talking about a decade here, so it’s really not a great deal of time but you hit the ground running. I thought we would sort of go through your life by talking about a few songs and your professional life. We’re gonna start with “Dog Days Are Over,” which isn’t the first single I think from the album. I think—

F: “Kiss With a Fist,” yeah.

J: In a way, this is the second single, but perhaps ultimately the bigger hit from the album. I’m not sure, but I feel like this is a song where you first discovered your sound? Or at least for me, I feel like this is where I first heard your sound. Maybe for a lot of us. So I wondered if you could talk about how this song happened, and the lyrics are up here. We can talk about a few of those too. But talk a little, generally, about where this song came from, and how it fit into what work you’d been doing at the time.

F: Ehm, what was I doing? I think I was still at art college, and I—or maybe I’d dropped out?

J: You were at Camberwell College of the Arts, for one year.

F: I wasn’t a very committed art student. I made a lot of installations. I already loved patterns and fabrics and fake flowers and I’d make these big installations, and then kind of sleep in them, and pretend it was an art piece—I was just really hungover. Like, “It’s art! It’s definitely art. Don’t touch it!” I was making flyers for the first Florence and the Machine shows using the photocopier. So I’m sorry for the use of supplies and then not handing anything in.

I’d met Isa of “Isa Machine” fame. She is amazing and we kind of grew up together. She used to babysit my cousin, and then we kind of lost touch. So in South London, for awhile there was a big art collective that squatted the buildings that I lived really near, so when I was a teenager I used to break into all the squat parties, and they would bring all these christmas trees, and everyone would be wearing like, bin bags and crazy outfits, and I was like, “Oh I found them! I found my people!” I was at one of those parties and Isa was there. She was the DJ. She called herself “Laydee Isa,” but it had like seven E’s and seven Z’s. She was like “Oh, I used to babysit your cousin!” And I was like, “Heeey!” I was kind of out of it, I think. She said she had a studio, and that I should come down and make a song.

At the time, there were so many boys in bands. It was around that time of The Libertines, and The White Stripes, and The Strokes—it was a very band oriented time. So I had been writing some songs but because everything was on guitar, and I didn’t know how to play guitar, I just assumed that I would be a singer in someone else’s band, or I’d be a front-woman. I think there was a kind of internalized self-doubt as well. I know I’m not a trained musician. I didn’t have the attention span to sit and learn the piano, or the focus. I was good at singing. I think my attention span doesn’t work...I was like, “I’m already good at this thing.” I could never focus enough to properly learn, which I really regret, actually. I really regret that. So I didn’t have the sort of—I didn’t have the idea that I could make my own band basically. I thought I would be a front-person for someone else’s, but then I started writing songs, and there were so many guitarists about, and that’s how I wrote “Kiss With a Fist.”

They were kind of little gothic fairytales. There’s so much guilt and drama involved—I don’t know what I was. It was kind of like, I think I was already trying to process...I just think from an early age, I felt so much shame, and I don’t really know why. I don’t know where that came from. I think those songs were a way of trying to process what I felt was wrong about me, and through these metaphors—like, this idea that you’d done something terrible, but a bird has seen you do it. So you get the bird, and kill the bird and you eat it so that it can’t tell anybody what you did. I don’t know what the fuck I was doing. But then, you go to sleep, and you’re like, “It’s fine, I got the guy, I’m good.” But when you wake up, you try to speak, and all that comes out of your mouth is the bird singing what you did, and that’s the only thing you can say—which is so dark for a nineteen year old. I think I was just snogging people I wasn’t supposed to or something. But even before, I always felt sort of sensitive as a kid, and I don’t know. I felt like other people had a ticket to kind of get through life that I didn’t know. And how did you get that thing? And everyone seems to have a map, and I don’t. I think these songs were a way of trying to express through these little metaphors how it felt. I was already really obsessed with death in the way that you are as a teenager, and kind of imagining my own funeral all the time. I put these songs with guitars, ‘cause that’s what was around, so that would be like “Birdsong,” in which I wrote with Dev Hynes of Blood Orange. ‘Cause there were so many musicians about—like Kid Harpoon was around, Dev was playing with the Test Icicles at the time, and you could kind of play with anyone. Me and Dev were just sitting in the top room of a pub, and we kind of came up with that song just before we did a show together. That’s kind of how I would make the songs with whoever was around. Isa was sort of the first person who gave me the instrument, who was like, “Why don’t you just try and do something on this?” We called it the “shit keyboard,” it cost like 100 pounds, it was a Yamaha. It burned in a fire!

J: Before or after you used it?

F: After! It burned in a fire. She was the first person who—I think as well because she was another young woman, I think, as a female songwriter...I don’t know if this comes from, like—I had to kind of unlearn deference. I had to really stop deferring. That’s something that’s quite hard, especially when most of the people I was writing with were male. I was instinctively deferring because I was a young woman. I think with Isa, we were kind of the same age, and we kind of bossed each other around! There wasn’t any sort of power imbalance or anything. So she handed me this keyboard and she’s like, “Just do what you want.” The first song that I actually wrote, which you can tell because it’s just an ascending scale, was “Between Two Lungs,” and that was kind of the first thing that sort of felt like it really came truly from me. I was so excited by that, then that the next song we wrote was “Dog Days.” That was like, the first two. They’re not the most complicated chords, but because I never fucking played anything, I thought they were amazing! I was just like, “I’m making this sound? Can you hear this?” Like yeah, it’s fucking piano. It makes that sound for everybody. But because I was the one getting to put them in order and stuff, I just thought like, “This sounds incredible.” She only had like a little...it was in Crystal Palace, which is in South London, we didn’t really have any equipment. We stole drums from someone. The sound of the drums—which I now realize is the same beat as “People Have the Power” (Claps hands to “Dog Days'' percussive rhythm). Which is what we were doing in Patti’s show. We used pens and stuff, and it was kind of, the feeling of that song just came from a lot of enthusiasm, but not really any skill or equipment. So, that’s how it came about.

J: Can I ask you a little bit about the words in the song? “Happiness hit her like a train on a track,” and then later, “happiness hits her like a bullet in the back.” Is it happiness that’s chasing her here? Because it sounds like a celebratory song. Like, the dog days are over and now we’re gonna have some fun! But then it seems like happiness is the thing that’s after her.

F: Well it kind of always was in my mind because I would have such extreme feelings of joy but then I would end up staying out for like three days, so the happiness would always come back down to just terror and panic. I also think that my joy and excitement switch is very close to my panic switch, and I sometimes I don’t know which one is going to go. I think somehow I also equated—I was very mistrustful of happiness, and I think already by the time I was writing the song, I was a very messy person. Not like, untidy, but kind of messy emotionally. I think I’d already done quite a lot of damage to myself and others by that time. We start young in England. By the time I wrote this song, I think I was already, like...yeah, happiness hit her, like a bullet in the back, struck from a great height, by someone who should’ve known better than that. It was sort of like, I didn’t deserve this. You should know better, and I also knew I wanted to be a singer and a performer, and there is this sense that you’ve been struck from a great height, but you are the fucking wrong person (laughs).

J: Huh… okay (laughs). Let’s go from there into writing songs versus writing poetry, because the book is mainly songs, but actually there are poems in the back, and the preface has this interesting line, which I will read. “The act of singing gives the most mundane words and phrases reverence and glory, you can make a shrine out of anything.” I was just wondering, are there certain poems that don’t become songs, and why? Is there something that makes it a song, and something that makes it a poem?

F: I think the first things that I ever started writing when I was a kid was poetry. I mean it wasn’t good, but when I was seven or eight, I was writing poetry. Then I think when I started to think about actually writing my own poetry—like High as Hope is actually an album formed out of poems to begin with. It was a friend of mine called Robert Montgomery who was...he’s a poet, but also a visual artist, and he takes his poems and he turns them into big art pieces with neon lights, and he had said to me, “I think you’re a poet, and I think you should try and write some poetry.” So with that encouragement, I was like, “Okay, okay. I’ll try.” The first thing that I wrote, that wasn’t consciously in mind as a song, but it was a poem, was just a list of things that I thought I couldn’t put into a song.

J: That’s in here! That’s very interesting.

F: Yeah, it’s about getting kicked out of Topshop for drinking Rosé in the changing rooms. I was like, “I don’t know. It doesn’t sing well. So I guess it’s going here.”

J: But you also said in this poem that is not a song, “I’m not sure I can put these things into a song, these muddy trinkets, not beautiful enough. Too bloody and ragged. I always felt the songs should transcend the swamp.” F: Yeah, I think there was a way that I could use metaphor and my imagination to kind of beautify the things that had happened to me, or that I’d done, and in a way kind of own them. Like, when I talk about giving things reverence, I never wanted to actually have the songs written down because I thought that if you saw how sometimes ordinary some of the words are—like the word “kitchen sink” is in “Dog Days,” but when you’re singing something you’re turning it into a hymn almost. You’re giving it a spiritual quality, so I was worried that if the songs were written down, they would maybe lose that. So when I was writing, and I know it’s a song, I feel as if there’s a character or something that’s coming through me that’s bigger than me, and has very big ideas. It’s quite clear on things, kind of understands the bigger questions and I just have to let it happen. So when I was writing poetry, it was a different voice, and it felt like it was almost an even more personal voice because these things were just going to stay on the page. They weren’t going to be viewed with the grandeur of song. They were just going to live there, and who is that person? The drunk Topshop person?

J: You even talked about that—“This new voice, this me voice, is it conversational? Confessional?” Actually there is a poem (New York Poem (for Polly)) I put up here. This is one of the poems from the book. It’s a beautiful poem and it also has your parents and New York in it. So I thought it would give us a jumping off point for your parents. Your mother and father both appear in several of your songs, and have been part of your life. Your mother is a renaissance scholar...

F: Yeah, she is. She’s very smart.

J: And what’s her focus? What’s her specialty?

F: Her focus is the renaissance, above all else. I think even in our childhood her focus was definitely the renaissance (laughs). She’s written four or five books on renaissance studies. It’s funny, she’s always having...she’s always horrified by my exquisitiveness (sic), and how much I love clothes, and bags. But I’m like, “You write books on renaissance shopping, and when we go to museums, I have to stop you from touching things. You love stuff too! Just stuff in the past.” So she’s very interested in what people wore, and textiles, and how people shopped, so she’s read a lot of books about that. And I love shopping too, mom!

J: Didn’t she say to you, when you said you could remember every single outfit you wore, “What a horrible waste of a brain?”

F: (Laughs). I was like, “Oh, you know how I remember things mom? I remember things by what outfit I wore.” She went, “Oh what a waste of your brain.” I was dyslexic as a kid, and she’s worked so hard to get into the upper echelons of academia, and she just keeps getting more and more titles that I can’t even remember now.

J: She’s a provost.

F: Oh, she’s a provost! She’s a provost, yeah, but it just keeps going up. So I don’t know—

J: Dean?

F: No, she’s been that, yup. But I think it’s higher now.

J: So what’s next, chancellor?

F: I think that’s next! But she’s such an impressive person; she would tell me that when I was a baby she was trying to finish papers, or finish books, and she would rest me on a photocopier—it seems like me and my mum both love photocopiers. She just kept working, but I think...none of her children went into academia, and she’s a huge advocate for higher education. That was something that...I was really dyslexic when I was in school, and I couldn’t spell and I struggled at school. I mean, I still don’t think I can do my times tables. Numbers is like a foreign language to me. She’s very staunch; she’s so within herself. She’s incredibly strong, she’s been through so much. I always felt like I was unacademic, emotional, and creative, and sometimes she would look at me as if she had given birth to an octopus. Like, “What is this thing?” I always really looked up to her though, for her drive and her work ethic, and how much she...we’re both very hard workers, I think. I definitely got that from her. And obviously her love of the renaissance has affected me (laughs).

J: And your father comes from, well a journalism family, right? His father was the editor of The Spectator?

F: He was the editor of The Telegraph. I think maybe and The Spectator. I think maybe both, yeah.

J: Okay. And he was a frustrated writer? Or a wishy was-writer, became an advertising guy?

F: Yeah, I think my father is incredibly charming and charismatic and he should have been a performer, really. He is a sort of poet as well, and he was always so imaginative, and would tell me stories when I was a kid that he would then...he was like, “I’m writing a book now!” He moved to Russia when I was fourteen to write a Russian crime novel that my mother tries to pin all my therapy on. Like, I think there’s other stuff. Like not just Dad moving to Russia to write a spy novel, I think there’s other things at play.

J: Did that in fact have a big effect on you?

F: I don’t think it was just that (laughs). I think she’s deflecting slightly. He’s a really creative person and actually he was much more encouraging of me going into the arts. My mother was so desperate for me to go to university. She just didn’t see music. She saw music as a dangerous career, it wasn’t a “forever” career, she was worried I was going to get hurt. She was like, “Get a degree, get some stability, and then do your music thing.” She would, every time I got paid, be like, “It’s not forever money. Put that away.”

But my father, he was always—I mean they’re divorced, so they were like two sides of, you know—they had very different opinions about lots of things. So they didn’t work together. He’s a true bohemian at heart, and he tour-managed us for our whole tour that we did with MGMT around Europe, and England. He did it in his camper-van! MGMT offered us this tour, and it was the first tour we’d ever got. It was a huge break for us actually. We didn’t have any money, and we couldn’t afford a tour bus, so my dad took his sundance camper-van, and we drove all the way around Europe! I mean, MGMT are out there, but I think they thought we were really crazy. So we would just show up there, pots and pans clanking, like, “We’re here!” The first show we did—I mean, I did the show as an early, pre-Lungs era shows where I’d be wearing one of Rob’s t-shirts, drunk and screaming and that was the show. It was excellent (laughs). Then I fell off some speaker stacks. We all had to share a dressing room, as well. That was really cute. Then MGMT came off stage after that show, and they all came off stage, and they’re all like, “Oh my god. The ghost Andy Worhol was in the fucking audience.” Then my dad walked in.

J: Oh, that was your dad? F: It was my dad! Because he had this grey hair, and he kind of dressed as an Andy Worhol, and was right up front. I was like, “Yeah, this is my father, who is managing us.” Then I moved from the tour bus, and then I brought my girlfriend on tour with me. I was like, “Yeah, just come with us!” We got banned from MGMT’s tour bus for being a bad influence (laughs). Which, if you know MGMT, that’s a big achievement.

J: Yeah, that’s a big achievement. Congratulations! Well that gets me into the next subject, which is drinking. Which we both have in common.

F: (Laughs) J: So after the success of Lungs, you were thrown into the world of success and fashion. In particular, you became a darling of fashion. You did the costume ball—anyway, when you read your interviews from that time, you bragfully...in interviews you’re falling apart! You’re drinking at your hotel—you set your hotel room at the Bowery hotel on fire? But the bar bill was more than the hotel damage cost!

F: Yeah, it is (laughs).

J: Anyway, I guess it’s not surprising that with this life came drinking, but it got to a point where it was not manageable.

F: Yeah, I remember waking up and I mean, when you wake up and there’s a huge flame mark on the side of your room, but you’ve been asleep in that room, and you’ve got to figure out where it came from, you’re like, “Was there a fire? And I slept through it? Dope.” Like that is really...I called my publicist at the time, and was like, “Something’s happened!” He was like, “Oh my god, yes, ‘cause there’s a huge bill on my credit card.” I was like, “I think it was the fire.” That was the bar tab. The fire was cheaper than the bar tab.

It was hard. I’ve grown up in South London, and that whole scene is like punk on a pirate ship, it’s sort of pirate folk, and everyone fends for themselves, and the whole gig is like an extended drinking game where you just have to play in the middle. And the game carries on. It was just like an interlude. That is the scene that I grew up in, and I was kind of insecure, I think, about singing pop music.

J: In your family? F: Just in general, and I kind of thought as a way to subvert that, I would just party the hardest. I think as it was a very kind of male dominated scene—like the indie scene that I came up in—it was also a way to kind of outdo everyone. I was very proud of the fact that I could drink as much—and more—than all of the guys. I was the only woman on the first NME tour, and we were opening and they were fucking terrified of me. I think I came into the second show with a black eye, dressed as a bat, jumping off things. I think that’s kind of what I understood, that that was rock and roll, and if you couldn’t go the hardest, you were letting rock and roll down. You were letting these legendary people down.

I was someone who struggled with hangovers, just because I could go...I had insane endurance, but also people would come up to me who I thought were the craziest drinkers and drug-takers I’d ever met, and be like, “Woah. You go harder than anyone I’ve ever met!” I was like, “Oh my god.” But I’ve always had a lot of energy, but I think really why I would stay out for so long is my...you know that sense of shame I spoke about in the beginning? That was there before any of the drinking and the drugs. I already had that. Then to escape that, you know, it would give me an escape from that, but the things I did, or the things I would say, or the way I would treat people just confirmed the way that I felt as a kid. It was just like, you are bad. There is something wrong with you, and then I would carry on trying to escape it in that way, but it would just keep getting worse.

My psyche is pretty fragile; I’m not actually someone who should have a lot of stimulants. They gave me a vitamin shot today, and I’m like, “I’m fucked. I’m high on vitamins! I’m going to have to go to hospital for vitamin overdose!” That’s from a b12 shot. So I don’t know what I thought I was doing when I was partying. Some people are tough, I’m kind of a fragile person. I have a fragile sense of self. The hangovers that I had didn’t seem normal, they were like, “I’m dying. I can’t think, I can’t breathe, like I feel like my skin is—” Maybe it’s ‘cause I drank more than everyone else? I don’t know, but it’s a particular quality that was telling me this does not work for me, but I kept doing it, again and again, and it was always the same feeling. You’ve been doing that in whatever way since you were fourteen, and by the time you get to 27, it’s just—ugh. I didn’t want to feel that way anymore, and it was so repetitive. At some point, the fun bit had gone. As much as I tried to get it back, I just couldn’t. When the fun goes, I’m sorry to tell you if any of you are umming and ahhing, it does not come back. The first year that I stopped, I felt like I’d really lost a really big part of who I was, and how I understood myself. I also felt like I was letting down rock and roll history ‘cause I couldn’t cope. I had to kind of rebuild from scratch a little bit. The thing is that now, I don’t know, it’s almost like the idea of rock and roll that we had...we’ve seen it so many times, it doesn’t end well. I don’t want to be part of that story. J: The 27 year old story.

F: Yeah, I was 27 when I stopped and my mum, literally the speech she gave at my party, where I’d arrived already out of my mind drunk; like I was on the table and she was trying to make a speech. She was like, “Please, just keep her alive. Please.” I laughed about it at the time, but if I think about it now it makes me feel so sad for my mum and how scared she must have been. I feel like at that point there’s...this poem is kind of about that, because I felt like there was a split, there is the person who carried on partying, and didn’t come back. So there’s this ghost version of me. Then there was the person who got to carry on living, and doing the things that I’ve done. It really feels much more rock and roll than anything I ever did when I was drinking. I was doing shows, and connecting with people, and that to me—especially with everything going on in the world—to be conscious and to be present and to really feel what’s going on, even though it’s painful, it feels much more like a truly reborn spirit of rock and roll. It feels like that’s what it should be about right now.

J: The last album was sober, and this song is a remarkable song. It’s maybe not specifically about drinking, but it’s confessional nature I think is what’s a part of whatever transformation you went through. So could you have written [Hunger] as a drinking person? Or do you feel something changed in your songwriting?

F: Oh my god, no. I could have never, ever. I don’t think I could have written this song. I couldn’t have even written this for How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful. In the recording of How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful, I was sober but a lot of the songs weren’t sober because I’d written them when I was drinking, so it was like trying to pull things that were just a big mess. Like, “Okay.” I was in a terrible state. In your first year of your sobriety you’re just insane. So I definitely couldn’t have written it then, but sort of four years down the line, what started to happen was I decided to see underneath—’cause when you’re out there drinking there’s so much surface chaos. You literally can’t see beyond what you did last night as you’re trying to clean that up, and make sure nobody finds out what happened, and who saw? And was there a camera phone? You’re just living in this constant...you can’t ever get any further than the drama that just happened yesterday. So after some time, and some time getting to re-know myself, I started looking at the stuff that was underneath that, that was at the core of it. That’s when I felt able to write this song. I think also I just wasn’t so ashamed of myself at the time. When you’re drinking like I was, you carry around so much shame, and so much of that has lifted that I felt able to say and be honest about things that I just never, ever would have.

When I was really in disordered eating, I would make pacts to myself every night that I will never tell anyone. That was the thing. You can carry on what you’re doing, but you can never tell. Living with that kind of—

J: You kept that promise, because I think when your sister saw this song, she read the first lines, and said she never knew.

F: No, she didn’t. Like, my mum didn’t know. My sister was like, “You better tell mom. You’re putting this out as a big pop song.” I was terrified. I was so scared. I luckily had really good people around. I had my manager, Hannah Giannoulis; she heard this song, and she… I was doing it as a thought experiment. I was never going to release it. I was like, “This is an experiment. This is not for public consumption.” And she heard it, and was like, “This is a really important song.” I was really scared. I was so scared of anger. I’m really bad with anger anyway, but I think it’s because I have so many years of internalized anger against myself for what I was doing, or the way I was behaving that to say it, I expected anger. I expected people to be furious with me for putting something like this out there in a song. I tried to put it off, I pushed back the whole touring schedule. Actually when it was released, people were so kind. I don’t think I gave people enough credit. It was so liberating and it changed me as a performer actually, because once you’ve said your most shameful thing, it’s almost like you’ve got nothing left to lose. So the performances just became so much more open and free, and also when the people who listen to your music accept you at your worst, it is the most beautiful thing. I felt so connected with people on this tour. I’m so grateful to everyone.

#florence welch #florence + the machine #fatm #edited for clarity aka removing florence's adorable rambling that she always does while she collects her thoughts #i love this interview so so much but the quality is pretty poor and therefore pretty inaccessible to non-fluent engl speakers and hoh people #so i put my typing skills to work #if there are any other interviews you'd like transcribed let me know!#this is how i'm putting off writing oof oof oof #also really cant tell if she's saying mom or mum? it sounds like when shes referring to her she says mum #but then if shes speaking to her its mom

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wellthatwasaletdown · 2 years ago

Note

The Olivia Harry is dating now is not the one he fell for. So I don’t see this lasting and Olivia is likely to get burned.

When they started - she was still with Jason who loved and wanted to marry her, she was directing a Hollywood movie, off the back of critical success with booksmart. She probably didn’t have loads of time for Harry. And he liked the chase. So she blew up her life. Left her fiancé and kids and Harry won. So things are great.

But a year on she’s following him around like a clingy koala (because she doesn’t trust him on tour) All the fancy projects she had booked (marvel!) have cancelled and she’s now using him to stay relevant. She’s bending over backwards and cos-playing Camille to be what she thinks he wants. But he’s already lost interest and they’ll break up after the DWD promo cycle when he doesn’t need to be around her anymore.

Olivia will regret imploding her life for a fling with a pop star.

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rosyrosethings · 5 years ago

Text

Harry doesn’t love Y/n anymore.

Okay so this is where Harry doesn’t love Y/n. He falls for someone else but then he realizes the person he left Y/n for was not worth it.

2k+ words

Y/n has been feeling like Harry has been distant and she didn’t like it. She’s been trying her best to hold on to whatever was there. But she thinks she held on too tight that whatever it was that was left of their love withered away. She tried to give him space because he’s been distant. by focusing on her work as an actress.

But Harry was always gone. He didn’t care what she did to try to bring back the love they once had. Leaving her at home by herself. Her anxiety getting worse and worse. She didn’t think Harry was cheating. She was just so scared that he’d leave her. Ever since Harry came back from tour. Things were so different. Harry would not let y/n cuddle him ‘too hot.” He’d say, even when it cold. He’d never listen when she tried to start conversation. He’d always busy himself with things.sxc

Nights and nights of this. Them not even talking to each other even though they’ve been together for 5 years. Y/n decided that she was gonna go out. With her friend Brianna. She needed some air she’s been feeling suffocated in this house especially since Harry was never here. Y/n texted Harry that she won’t be home tonight she’s gonna spend the night at Bri’s. He read it but didn’t even bother to reply. He always says he’s out working on the album or that he has ‘work to do.’ Y/n just continued to get ready to go out with her friend.

Y/n heard a horn honking. She knew it was Bri. She quickly left the empty home not wanting to be there without him. She got in the car with Bri.

“Are you ready to get wasted hun?” Bri asked excitedly. Y/n shrugged.

“Y/n I got you out the house to not think about him.” She said, Y/n sighed. “You’re right.” She mumbled. “Let’s go have fun.”

The club was fun. Y/n didn’t drink at all because all she could think about is going home to Harry. So she made Bri drop her off at her and Harry’s home. Which they left the club early because Y/n was just thinking about Harry the whole night. When Bri pulled up to Their driveway both of them noticed another car in the driveway.

“Who’s car is that?” Bri asked, y/n shrugged her shoulders.

“Maybe Harry has a friend over.”

“I’m gonna stay out here, text me when it’s okay to leave. I just have a bad feeling.” Bri said, putting her car in park on the side of the road. Y/n didn’t think it was necessary but she didn’t bother telling to her to leave. So y/n got out the car and walked in the house. Y/n heard laughing coming from the dining area. Y/n walked over to the dining room. Seeing A cute candle lit dinner and Harry with Kendall. Her presence stopped the laughter. Both of them were enjoying themselves.their hands were connected across the table. Kendall stopped laughing and looked up at Y/n. Causing Harry to turn around. To make eye contact with Y/n for the first time in a while.

“I’m sorry.. I’m just gonna get my stuff and go. Please continue like I never existed.” She said, with a quick pivot. Y/n threw her heels off and quick ran upstairs to get her stuff. She grabbed one of the bags of luggage out the closet. Pulling out all her clothes just throwing them in the case.

“Y/n can we talk?” She heard. She looked up. Surprisingly she wasn’t crying.

“Ohh now you wanna talk? Months and months of pushing me away and now you wanna talk to me?” She laughed, she didn’t even look at Harry. She just continued to stuffed clothes in her bag.

“If you’re just here to tell me. You don’t love me anymore. Wowww that’s a shocker it’s obvious. You don’t even spend time with me. It’s obvious someone else has your heart and after being with you for five years. It isn’t me anymore you love anymore .” She said, trying to zip up the suit case she over packed.

“I never cheated on you..” he said, looking down at his hand as he leaned against the doorway.

“You fucking liar. Being in love with someone else is emotional cheating. But after tonight you’re free of me so go head and fuck your new girlfriend. I know you want to. You haven’t touched me in months.”

“Y/n please I didn’t wanna hurt yo-“

“I dIDNt wANt tO hURt yOU.” Y/n said in her mimicking voice making a funny face. Harry didn’t say anything. He felt horrible but he didn’t love Y/n anymore. He wish he did but when he saw Kendall over tour he couldn’t help but say Hi to her. After that the rest was history. Kendall has been such a good friend to Harry. He didn’t mean to fall in love with her. But he did. It was killing him that he was hurting Y/n. He wasn’t in love with her anymore but he did still love her. Y/n was his best friend even before he started dating her.

Y/n pushed passed Harry and took her over packed suitcase down the stairs. Harry following behind her.

“I’d be back for the rest of my shit tomorrow!” She yelled slamming the door shut. She rolled her bag to Bri’s car.

“What happen?” Bri asked as Y/n opened the back door to the car stuffing her suitcase in as she decided she’d sit in the back seat. Because she was too frustrated to go in the front.

“He’s in love with fucking Kendall Jenner and so we broke up.”

“That fucking asshole!” Bri said, as she pulled out the driveway driving to her home.

“Well Y/n we are gonna go home and listen to my breakup playlist and get drunk asl and you are gonna realize you don’t need him.” Bri said, but y/n wasn’t really listening. She was heart broken. The love of her life just said he didn’t love her anymore. She was honestly kinda lost. She had a movie premiere to go to in a couple weeks and she planned on taking Harry with her. But she can’t when she goes alone the world would know that her and Harry broke up.

Once they made it to Brianna’s home. Y/n immediately went to Brianna’s liquor cabinet.

“Alexa play Lizzo truth hurts.”

After Y/n got drunk and Alexa started to play the breakup playlist. Y/N and Brianna started to upload videos of them to their Instagram story. Lip syncing to all of the break up hits. From lizzo truth hurts, Ariana Grande boyfriend, to Whitney Houston I will always love you. Y/n knew the way she was singing in that video you could obviously tell that Y/n was single. But she didn’t care. She was so heartbroken that she couldn’t even cry but it did hit her. When she woke up in the middle of night to lay her head on Harry’s chest. But she looked around and realized she was in bed with Brianna and Harry wasn’t there. That’s when she cried until she fell alseep. She tried to get sleep because she had an PR interview for the movie tomorrow with Luke. She didn’t wanna show up looking tired and horrible.

But soon morning arrived and Y/n couldn’t help but feel like shit. Her eyes were swollen but luckily her makeup-artist helped with that on the set of interviews for the movie. Y/n finally had a free moment on set to check her phone and notifications were blowing up. Articles with the titles ‘DID Y/N AND HARRY BREAKUP?!’ Or ‘HARRY STYLES SINGLE?’ And texts from friends and family. Asking is she okay.

“Wow Y/n you look beautiful as always.” Luke said, causing Y/n to look up from her phone to see him there. Blonde curly hair and blue eyes. Cheeks freshly pink. Y/n always thought He was so cute. He was such a good friend to her also. Y/n sent him a small smile.

“And you look adorable as always.” She responded,

“What’s wrong?” He whispered to her. He could tell she was off. Usually Y/n would continue the conversation with Luke. Telling him how cute he would be if he grew his hair out or just asking him anything else to keep the conversation going. But he could also see in her eyes. That she was sad.

“How’d ya know I’m upset?”

“Hmm ya know filming with you for a six months and spending a lot of time with you. Soo when you think about it yYou’re kinda like my best friend. Soo i know when something wrongs with my best friend.” Y/n could help but crack a genuine smile at his response.

“Me and Harry broke up.” She said, Luke frowned at her. She knew she must have been sad. They were together for like 5 years.

“The worst part is. Our 6 year anniversary is in a few months and i already got his gift and I can’t return it.” She said, he knew she was going to cry. He could see it in her eyes.

“Hey how about we spend some time together me, you and Brianna? We could have a fun night and help you forget about him.. and I’d let you do my makeup.” He said, he whispered the last part. Her eyes lit up. She asked Luke thousands of times to do his makeup to see what he looks like as a girl because he was so adorable y/n thought he would be a really cute girl. He’d would always say no.

“Ohh my gosh yess! Sounds amazing to me!”

“Okay guys interview in 5. Get in your seats.” Y/n and Luke obliged to the command by the set coordinator. Soon the interviews started. Multiple different interviews all basically asking the same questions. Until they got to one of them interviewers names Rachel.

“So Y/n is it true that you’re single?” The question shocked Y/n she literally just broke up with Harry yesterday. Y/n didn’t say anything.

“I don’t understand how’s that relevant. Either way single or not. I’m not gonna stop trying to be her next and last boyfriend.” Luke answered. Making Y/n smile. She whispered over to him thank you.

Soon days turned to weeks and weeks turned into months. The media soon found out Y/n and Harry broke up. It was now public that Harry was dating Kendall and That Y/n and Luke were dating each other. Even though they haven’t made things official. They both liked each other. Y/n was starting to be happy again. Even though she did still love Harry and she pretty sure she’d never stop. She’s starting to get a point where she’s happy if he’s happy. Today was the day that she was talking the rest of her stuff to her Brianna house from Harry.

Harry on the other hand has not been taking the break up too well. When Y/n left at first he okay. Kinda hurt but not too hurt because he thought he was in love with someone else. But after the first two weeks of being with Kendall he realized it was all a mistake. The smallest things would make him miss Y/n the most. When it lasted and Harry wants to talk Y/n would listen. Kendall would tell Harry to go back to sleep. Y/n loved kissing all over Harry showing him affection no matter where they are. He’d get lucky if Kendall decides to hold his hand. Harry didn’t want her and not to mention the sex. Y/n was 100 times better than Kendall. Every time they had sex he’d always think of Y/n to make himself cum. As they were sitting there cuddling. Harry was thinking how he made a big mistake. Kendall laying on his chest as he scrolled through his phone. The tv was on. Showing reruns of a celebrity gossip show that Kendall was watching.

“So Y/n, is it true your single?” The reporter asked, he quickly looked at the screen seeing Y/n there with Luke sitting in separate chairs but close to each other y/n didn’t seem like she wanted to ask the question. Why would they ask her that?

“I don’t understand how’s that relevant. Either way single or not. I’m not gonna stop trying to be her next and last boyfriend.” Like responded as Y/n face lit up. Harry couldn’t help but feel jealous. Even though this was old. He felt that Luke was trying to get at his Y/n.

“Ohh so you have a little crush on Y/n?” The reporter ask.

“A little?” He laughed, “she’s so amazing and so good at her job. It’s just an absolute honor just to be next to her. She’s an fantastic person and friend and anyone who doesn’t realize that is dumb.” Luke said, not even looking at the reporter. He was looking directly at Y/n. Y/n leaned over and kissed his cheek. Harry quickly took the remote and changed the channel.

“Why’d you do that?” Kendall asked, sitting up looking at him. He shrrugged his shoulders.

“Harry what’s wrong?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re off. Lately you don’t seem too happy with me and I can see you’re getting jealous because another guy admitted he has feelings your ex girlfriend. That you left.”

“I was with her for 5 years. What do you want me to say?” He responded.

“Harry you left her to be able to be with me. You told me you’re not in love with her anymore, Do you even love me?”

“Y/n you know I love you.”

“Y/n?” She laughed, “did you just call me Y/n!” She said, getting up from the couch. Harry was shocked. He didn’t mean to to say Y/N’s name but he does love Y/n.

“Gosh Harry you guys broke up months ago you left her! You shouldn’t even be thinking about her.”

“I’m sorry Kendall.. I just don’t wanna be with you anymore. It was a mistake. ”

“A mistake?! A fucking mistake? You told me we can be together. You told me me all these things how you loved me and you still love her? Do you think she’s gonna take you back?! Do you think she’s gonna come through that door?” Kendall yelled at Harry. Followed by a knock on the door. Causing Kendall to look over at the door. Frustrated Kendall went to the door swinging it open. Revealing Y/n

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Kendall said, Y/n scrunched her face at her greeting.

“I just came to get the last of my stuff.” Y/n said, stepping inside while holding a huge box full of stuff. “I’m leaving.” Kendall announced as she walk she grabbed her keys and purse and walked out the house closing the door behind her.

“I hope everything’s okay.” Y/n said looking over at Harry. Harry sighed and stared at the beauty in front of him. He missed her so much.

“Yea.. everything fine. What’s in the box?” He asked, getting up as he took the box from Y/n. Placing on the table.

“Ya know stuff i made a mistake and took when you dumped me.” She smiled, Harry looked at her. “Must you make things awkward?” He asked.

“Ya know it’s one of my many talents.” She smiled as Harry opens the box. Y/n pulled out the few shirts in the box.

“These are all your favorite T-shirt that i took purposely when we broke up so you’d look for them you’d never be able to find them.” She pulled out the shirts and placed them down. “Here are all you’re old vintage one of a kind records.”

“I was looking for those! Y/n how could you?”

“Do you think i wanna gonna just go and let you be happy? While i sit around and cry over you. You needed some kind of pain.” She said, “wow Y/n. This really hurt my heart.” He said, Harry looked over at her.

“Y/n I’m really sorry for how i handled things.” He said,

“It’s okay Harry. You felt trapped and you didn’t love me anymore and if you want the honest answer. I’m not over you but I’m happy as long as you are.” She said, she reached up to kiss his cheek. She walked around the back room where they kept all storage of things. Grabbing her last couple boxes of stuff walking back to the door.

“I’ve made a mistake.” Harry said, y/n set the boxes down and walked over to Harry.

“Harry I’m pretty sure whatever you and Kendall got to arguing over she would get over I’m pretty sure she’d get over it.” Y/n said as she approached him.

“I’m not talking about that. It’s you. I shouldn’t have left you. When I felt lost.. i shouldn’t have shut you out. I miss you.” He said to Y/n, Y/n was confused . She was planning on coming here telling Harry they could be friends not for him to tell her she misses him.

“Harry I-.” She started but interrupted by a knock on the door. Harry looked over the door and walked over and opens it. Revealing Luke.

“Hey Y/n I just wanted to make sure everything is okay you’ve been in here for a while.” Luke said to Y/n not even bothering to greet Harry.

“Ohh yea me and Harry were just catching up. Harry you remember Luke. He brought me over to get my stuff today.” Y/n said with a half smile. Then she picked up the boxes. “Okay Harry I have to go. We can talk another time.”

#harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #short story

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panelshowsource · 6 years ago

Text

a note about women’s month 💘

thank you to everyone who voted in the fave female panelists poll this year! last year was a blast and this year was even better! we’ve seen more woman on tv this year — and some improved, though grossly insufficient, diversity within that — and i love celebrating that with you everyday!

last year, i wrote this:

the lack of diversity in british comedy is an alarming issue that has only recently become headline news. statistics presented by this study, based on 50 years of panel shows and over 4,700 individual episodes, are beyond disappointing for women (here is an easy-to-read graph by series & by year); similar disappointment stems from the lineups at popular comedy festivals, like edinburgh. in 2014, the head of tv at the bbc promised to end all-male comedy shows, a “step in the right direction” that hasn’t been without fear of tokenism, fair criticism as well as some naysayers. women, people of colour, lgbt peoples, those differently-abled and those all of the above and in between are just as funny as cis-identifying white men and deserve a place on our screens. watch their standup, buy their books, stream their videos, listen to their podcasts, comment on and like their content, follow their social media. this support can directly help women become more visible in british comedy.

in the last year, have you been actively conscious of supporting women in comedy? i’d like to take a moment to talk about some ways you can do that :)

➡ from feminist discourse to tales of humans & their dogs to ghost stories, these women are providing some of the most touching, stimulating, and funny reading coming out of comedy:

How to be Champion: My Autobiography by Sarah Millican

Animal: The Autobiography of a Female Body by Sara Pascoe

The Guilty Feminist: From our noble goals to our worst hypocrisies by Deborah Frances-White

The Actual One: How I Tried, and Failed, to Avoid Adulthood Forever by Isy Suttie

Cheer Up Love: Adventures in Depression with the Crab of Hate by Susan Calman

The More You Ignore Me by Jo Brand

Can't Stand Up for Sitting Down: A Memoir by Jo Brand

Look Back in Hunger: The Autobiography by Jo Brand

Born Lippy: How to Do Female by Jo Brand

Is It Just Me? by Miranda Hart

Peggy & Me by Miranda Hart

Nina Is Not OK by Shappi Khorsandi

A Beginner's Guide to Acting English: A Memoir by Shappi Khorsandi

Spectacles: A Memoir by Sue Perkins

East of Croydon: Blunderings through India and South East Asia by Sue Perkins

Once More, with Feeling: How We Tried to Make the Greatest Porn Film Ever by Victoria Coren Mitchell and Charlie Skelton

For Richer, For Poorer: A Love Affair with Poker by Victoria Coren Mitchell

Dead Funny: Horror Stories by Comedians featuring Sara Pascoe, Katy Brand, and Danielle Ward

...and that’s just to name a handful! my fingers would need a 5 min power nap if i tried typing out all of susie dent’s books 💪

➡ this is a list of a lot relevant active podcasts coming out of britain right now (though it is missing, most notably, off menu). for example, if you liked alice levine on taskmaster, why not listen to her podcast? or watch/listen her on rhlstp? this is such a fun way to get more deeply involved in the comedy of some of your favourite ladies! might i recommend isy suttie’s the things we do for love, anneka harry’s brown bread, or box set go! with nicola stephenson (the newest ep features rebecca front!)? most of these are free, or they can be found/requested at /r/notapanelshow p.s. suzi ruffell, rosie jones, tiff stevenson and more are scheduled to appear on rhlstp this season 😍

➡ here is a list of some radio programmes currently on the air. while it does look stacked with men (because it is), women do feature on so many of these series and absolutely smash it! did you know sandi toksvig hosted the news quiz for almost ten years, and its regular panelists include susan calman, rebecca front, zoe lyons, and more? or that victoria coren mitchell has hosted heresy since 2006 (because there’s nothing she can’t do)? or that sarah millican, jo brand, and sally phillips have each hosted series of the museum of curiosity? these are all on the masterpost! 👏 p.s. you can always search for and/or request more radio shows at /r/panelshow or, if they’re not panel radio shows, /r/notapanelshow :)

➡ social 👏 media 👏 determines 👏 relevancy 👏 do i agree with this system? no. is this the system entertainers are currently slaves to? yes. do you follow your favourite women on twitter, instagram, youtube, etc? one click. one like. one retweet. one reblog. here is a list of some of the comedians i follow on twitter to get you started — all of your faves are on there! when you like something they are on, tweet about it! tag them, the network, the channel, use the hashtags, post pictures! tell channels like dave or people like richard osman who your faves are, who deserves more exposure, who you want to see in the future! we’re already obsessing over how much we like these ladies anyways, so why not make that obsession even more visibile?

➡ we have a really sweet, modest community here of at least 10,000 people. this is not something i’ve ever talked about because i don’t want what i’m going to say to be misconstrued as begging for notes — that is not my concern. but you may have heard people on this site talk about something called the like/reblog ratio. a lot of creators are concerned that, apart from tumblr’s ever-evolving ludicrous algorithms murdering their visibility, people are so obsessed with their blog aesthetics that they’re not actually reblogging everything they like. here’s a couple of my gifset details, one from a nicher post and one from a more popular post:

while i appreciate any notes, numbers likes these aren’t always encouraging. i’m not here to tell you how to enjoy your spare time and interests, or to criticise people who enjoy aesthetic. i just want to point out that if you want someone to be successful, you play a direct part in promoting them and spreading their art. as the years pass, this becomes more and more true. i know how much you all love these ladies — i get messages about them every single day — but it’s a simple fact that a gifset of james acaster or noel fielding or richard ayoade or david mitchell is going to get more notes than a post about any of the women who placed in the top 5 of this poll. i am not bringing this up to this make anyone feel guilty about what they enjoy; i only hope my mentioning this encourages you to be conscientious when participating on social media, especially when your interest lies in the products of a grossly unjust industry that is taking a lot fucking time to get itself on the right track. more followers on a comedian’s twitter = more work for that comedian, because that’s simply the direction the film & tv industry is going. if your follow yields that much power, why not use it for good?

please support women. if you buy one of their books, please message me and tell me which one! if you think one of them is shining on a radio programme and we’re sleeping on her, please let me know (timestamps appreciated!)! if one starts a gofundme or patreon to start a podcast or a tour, please donate 50p and then send me the link! there is always more we can be doing and we are always underestimating what even smallest amount of support means for their bigger picture. i don’t have all the answers, but i love the feeling i get when i believe society is evolving in the right direction. rose matafeo won the edinburgh comedy award in 2018, and sarah keyworth and kiri pritchard-mclean took the top awards at the 2019 chortle awards. women are here to stay and they’re fucking killing it. because duh ❣️

if you took the time to read this, i appreciate you x

#female top 5 #p #p.s. will post the top 5 results tomorrow and then it's back to our regularly scheduled programming...!

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ciestessde · 5 years ago

Text

Phantasma Magica Ch. 6

STORY SUMMARY

Clockwork and the Observants send Danny to Hogwarts on a special mission. But, cryptic as ever, that Old Stopwatch never actually told him what would happen on it!!! “All you need to do right now, Daniel, is stay focused on your mission. And remember, the-” “‘The Lions with the time-turner, lightning-bolt scar, and hair like fire are friends; watch out for the rat; and the black dog is not a threat.’ Yeah, you’ve only repeated that a few dozen times today.”

Next → ← Previous (First)

When Danny returned later the next day, things were mostly how he had expected to find them: most of the students had left for the holidays, the Trio were talking in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, and Harry looked absolutely exhausted. Against what he had expected, however, the other two weren’t trying to comfort Harry. Ron was getting angry. Hermione was on the verge of tears. They were trying to convince Harry not to go after Black. That it was too dangerous. That the dementors and other authorities would catch him. That the biggest piece of Pettigrew they could find (after Black blew him up) was his finger.

Danny didn’t interfere; it really wasn’t his place to. But if Harry wanted to go after Black, he would gladly help him. Ron gave up, suggesting they should go visit Hagrid. Harry, wanting to ask Hagrid why he had never told him about Black, readily agreed, and Danny (both because he dared not let Harry out of sight in this state, and because he wanted to hear more about Black himself) followed them to the hut -- which was far too close to the dementors’ patrols for the phantasm’s comfort.

But when they arrived, it was far from a happy holiday greeting that they received -- the half-giant was sobbing and, after letting them inside his small hut, shoved a letter toward Harry to read. Danny, having learned his lesson about getting distracted and tuning people out, listened… But was still slightly distracted, not by the large dog, but by the EVEN LARGER… horse… eagle… hybrid creature- it looked like if someone had decided to make a pegasus, but added the head of the bird too. BUT! Danny did manage to listen past his shock (for the most part). The letter was some court order, saying that Hagrid’s “hippogriff” (which, he figured out, was the not-a-pegasus) named “Buckbeak” did something bad, and, after a hearing (which sounded like it would be completely bogus), the Ministry’s “Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures” were likely going to execute the poor thing.

Ron, Hermione, and even Harry -- his anger now thoroughly diffused -- did their best to comfort Hagrid, promising they’d help him make a good case for Buckbeak’s innocence. Calmer, petting his dog’s head and with a cup of hot tea in front of him, Hagrid admitted, “I’ve not bin meself lately. Worried abou’ Buckbeak, an’ no one likin’ me classes--” “We do like them!” Hermione said, lying rather convincingly. “Yeah, they’re great!” Danny noticed Ron’s fingers crossed under the table. “Er-- how are the flobberworms?” “Dead,” Hagrid said gloomily, “Too much lettuce.” “Oh no!” Ron’s lip twitched, making his lie rather unconvincing.

“An’ them dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an’ all.” Hagrid shuddered. “Gotta walk past ‘em ev’ry time I want a drink in the Three Broomsticks. ‘S like bein’ back in Azkaban--” He cut off, and the room went silent. ‘Azkaban…?’ “Is it awful in there, Hagrid?” Hermione asked timidly. “Yeh’ve no idea. Never bin anywhere like it. Thought I was goin’ mad…” He described, to Danny’s disgust, a prison guarded by dementors sucking the happiness and, eventually, the very life-essence out of every prisoner, night and day.

“But you were innocent!” Hermione cried. Hagrid snorted. “Think that matters to them? They don’ care. Long as they’ve got a couple o’ hundred humans stuck there with ‘em, so they can leech all the happiness out of ‘em, they don’ give a damn who’s guilty an’ who’s not.” He was quiet, then said, “Thought o’ jus’ letting Buckbeak go… tryin’ ter make him fly away… but how d’yeh explain ter a hippogriff it’s gotta go inter hidin’? An’--an’ I’m scared o’ breakin’ the law…” He looked up, tears leaking out his eyes, “I don’ ever want ter go back ter Azkaban.”

If there was anything that his best friend Sam had rubbed off on him while he was still human, it was her dual loves of nature and freedom. And Danny already had not-so-friendly feelings for the dementors around this castle. So to hear about a prison guarded by them, and then a section of government devoted to “disposing” of creatures they disapproved of… Danny was developing some not-so-friendly feelings for the wizards’ “Ministry” as well…

So Danny was quite eager to help with the Trio’s research in building a defense for Buckbeak. He helped them pour over volume after volume, and article after article, for anything even remotely relevant to Buckbeak’s case (He had clawed the arm of a student -- ‘Malfoy. Why is it always Malfoy???’ -- who’d provoked him, directly against Hagrid’s instructions to the class). The research, to Hermione and Ron’s relief, also distracted Harry from searching for and worrying over Sirius Black.

Eventually, Danny needed a break. He’d been stuck inside this castle (which, though big, consisted of the same rooms as ever) for too long, his eyes were swimming with fancy law terms and news articles, and his visit to the side-town “Hogsmeade” was cut short before. So, after satisfying himself that his friends would be safe for a few hours without him, Danny followed the tunnel under the Whomping Willow -- eager to investigate why it had been blocked off.

The tree’s flailing branches passed right through him, and he entered a tunnel that was dark even for Danny’s night-vision. It let out into what seemed to be an abandoned house -- only this one had scratches and claw-marks all over the inside. ‘I wonder what this place is…?’ Turning invisible and intangible, Danny flew straight up and through the ceiling and the roof, then turned around. ‘Oh! This must be the “Shrieking Shack!”’

He had heard about some of the highlights of Hogsmeade from Ron and Hermione. Judging by the run-down appearance of the house below him, and the fence around the yard, this was the house that was supposed to be haunted. ‘I don’t feel any presences, though… Except maybe a few animals. But I guess that’s not surprising! Figures that it’s not actually haunted, heh!’

Danny surveyed the rest of Hogsmeade from above. He couldn’t buy anything, but it could be fun to look around the shops anyway. Especially that joke shop! ‘I’ll leave that for last!’ He floated down to street-level, deciding to start with the post-office. It was like a busy zoo enclosure, with owls of all sizes flying around and waiting to have letters attached to them. Next was the candy store -- which seemed almost like a joke shop unto itself! There were some free samples, too, which he took a few of for later. In one barrel was some blood-flavored lollipops, though… which reminded him: ‘There’s something to mention to Professor Lupin later… Phantasms’ worst enemies aren’t dementors, they’re vampires. Guess they’re part of this… “magical community.” Better keep my eyes out.’

The joke shop was just as fun as he thought it’d be and better. There were several items he knew Tucker (his other best friend…) would’ve gotten a kick out of -- and plenty he knew Sam could’ve found all sorts of uses for! ‘Oh, man… A quill that misspells EVERYTHING you write…! I mean, I would’ve had to convince him to use a quill first -- but Mr. Lancer would have HATED this thing…!’ So, with a mental list of things he wanted for Christmas (in case anyone asked), Danny turned back toward the Shrieking Shack for one last look at it before returning to the castle.

‘How did this place get SO torn up…’ There were claw marks going from ceiling to floor. The floor itself was a network of scratches in every direction. There wasn’t a single piece of untouched furniture… ‘Well, something clearly used to live here--’ His tour came to a halt when he entered a bedroom. Sitting on the bed, staring him straight in the eyes… A face from a wanted poster flashed through Danny’s mind…

‘Sirius Black…’

Silently, and before the man could react, Danny dove, grabbed him by the throat, and pinned him to the wall. His ethereal flames danced in his right hand; the claws of his left pricked the skin of Black’s throat, dripping a tiny bit of blood on his prison uniform -- before the wounds froze over, frost covering his shoulder and the wall behind. The windows faced away from the sun -- Danny was the only light in the room. Sirius was frozen -- though not literally. His mind was back in Azkaban. Except… this wasn’t a dementor in front of him- WHAT WAS THIS?!

Danny couldn’t decide whether to kill him now -- ‘I’m NOT an animal! I am NOT a MURDERER!!’ -- or bring him to the castle -- ‘They’ll just kill him anyway!’ Danny growled, frustrated and hungry -- vibrating and shaking Sirius’ heart in his chest. Which was all Sirius needed to snap out of it and remember how he escaped the dementors--

Danny couldn’t do a thing as he watched the criminal morph -- into a BLACK DOG -- ‘The black dog is not a threat’ -- escape his grip -- ‘Black dog is not a threat’ -- and run for the tunnel under the Whomping Willow...

‘Black is not a threat…’ …

Danny floated there, in that bedroom, with his arm outstretched, for a good half-hour out of shock.

‘What… do I do now… ‘Clockwork…?’

~~~~~

You can now follow the Podfic Version of this story on AO3. I’ll also try to remember to post links to individual chapters here on Tumblr, as well, though!

As always, if you like this, please REBLOG!

(Updates every Wednesday until completion.)

Other places you can find this fic: Fanfiction.net/~ciestess ArchiveOfOurOwn.org/users/Ciestess/profile Deviantart.com/Ciestess

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#harry potter #Danny Phantom #phantasma magica #phicc #atrieisan

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billxharry · 6 years ago

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In which I write the majority of Mamma Mia! 3

@nilo2207 had sent a wonderful question about unused Abba songs that made me think of Bill and Harry, and mentioned liking to re-imagine them singing previous songs that didn’t belong to their characters, which I also love to do. I love this question, because I have actually given this some thought before (*way* more than I should have, admittedly, as you’ll see) and because I can’t just associate the songs with them, I have to imagine them being relevant to a plot with them singing them, so because of that I have *large* parts of the third movie all planned out in my little mind. Someone hire me immediately. 🤣

I will put a song list here, and if you’d like, under the read more cut, I will painstakingly explain the context I imagine them in.

(Firstly, apologies to Colin and Stellan, the second movie didn’t give them anything to really sing, so in my lovely imaginary movie, I do the exact opposite.😁 They get more songs than they would ever want.)

Songs we haven’t seen (technically, I am aware two appear on the soundtrack of the second movie, but were cut from the film, so if the scenes are released, I suppose those will get moved to songs I would like re-imagined.)

I Wonder (Departure)- Harry

Head Over Heels- Bill (this song would be reworked pronoun wise and a few lyric adjustments to fit with Bill)

I Know Him So Well (it’s technically from Chess but it can count, right?) Harry and Rosie

The Day Before You Came- Harry (and a new verse at the end written for Bill)

Dance (While the Music Still Goes On)- Bill and Rosie

The Way That Old Friends Do- Bill, Harry, Sam, Tanya, Rosie and Donna (in spirit, the same vein the second movie used her)

As for the songs I like to imagine Harry and Bill signing that went to other characters, I’ve fit them into my narrative, as a medley of sorts, calling back to the first movie-

Take A Chance On Me- Bill

Honey, Honey- Harry (one of my biggest needs is Harry singing this song about Bill, okay.)

Mamma Mia!- Bill,Harry,Sam,Tanya,Rosie and Donna

I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do-Bill,Harry,Sam,Tanya,Rosie and Donna

Waterloo- Bill and Harry, Rosie and Tanya

When All is Said And Done- Bill,Harry,Sam,Tanya,Rosie and Donna

Dancing Queen- The entire cast

Songs that aren’t theirs, that I like to imagine them singing that I didn’t fit it to my narrative- Um, almost every song because everything revolves around Bill and Harry at this point in my mind😆

The original version of I’ve Been Waiting For You (I still really want this one, but the second movie made the reworked version so personal for Donna and Sophie that I can’t actually use it in my never to exist movie. )

The Winner Takes It All if I am feeling particularly angsty

I think that’s the songs, now on to plot. This post is already so long, this read more is going to make it ridiculous. Feel free to skip this. It’s literally fanfiction written in synopsis form? It’s odd.

Sophie needs help running the hotel. It’s become a stellar success after the re-opening, and new offers have come her and Sky’s way. She is finally at a place of peace with the hotel, knowing Donna would be proud, and is ready to take on new opportunities of her own, but with her having Donnie (I am not sure which way they spell it, Donnie or Donny?)she struggles to travel, take on new endeavors, run the hotel and raise a family. She asks Sam for a little extra help at the hotel, and when Sam mentions it, of course Bill and Harry vow to join him.(Dad hi-jinks with the three of them abound, of course, but I also like to think there’d be some depth to this plot, too.)

Yes, it’s your basic cheesy plot, but its Mamma Mia!, okay. I feel that’s acceptable. In this horrendously thought out summary, I will focus mainly on Bill and Harry’s plots, since this blog is focused on them and that’s what the question was in regaurds too. And let’s be honest, I’ve given them the majority of thought.

To actually get on to answering the questions, re: songs, if you’re still with me...

Harry has yet again gone back to his hum drum business world, but as we have seen in the first movie, and even more so in the second, he’s feeling more and more disconnected from that world, and as he ponders going to the island to help with the hotel, which he originally only planned to do for a week or so, he thinks of Sophie, and Donnie (Donny?) and Sam, and an extra emphasis on Bill (and here we’re clued in that Bill and Harry have indeed been together numerous times through out the years, but they’ve never broken up, because they’ve never officially been together) and after giving everything serious thought, Harry decides he doesn’t plan on coming back to London, to his lifestyle, for a good while this time, he wants to be where his family is. This is his spontaneous adventure. He is of course apprehensive, it’s Harry, but he decides it’s a risk worth taking, and he sings I Wonder (Departure) as he prepares to leave.

When we see Bill, also preparing to go to the island, we see he is in the opposite mind set of Harry. He’s not looking at this trip as a risk or an adventure, but rather the opposite, a chance to actually be grounded for a time. We discover he and Rosie have broken up yet again, but this time without Bill being at fault. He has no regrets about how their relationship went this time around, and thinks they can still be great friends. However, he sings a re-imagined version of Head Over Heels, subtly voicing his growing weariness of his lifestyle, and how he’s treated Harry. (His man is one I admire, He's so courageous, but he's constantly tired. Each time that he speaks his mind, He pats his head and says that's all very fine, Exert that will of your own, When we're alone, Now we better hurry. And with no trace of hesitation he keeps going.) Bill vows he will stay at the island longer than the week he had planned.

(Rosie and Tanya will certainly factor into this story too, of course. Sophie and Sky who are in New York, meet Tanya at Rosie’s launch of her new cook book, and after hearing some of the things Sophie had left in charge of the men (deciding how to a crucial suite would be remodeled, being in charge of food for a very prestigious event, the design plan of a new expansion, etc.) Tanya and Rosie decide it’s crucial to join them. Sophie argues in her dads’ favour, “But Harry has great taste.” “Bill is extremely knowledgeable when it comes to food!” “Sam literally designed the hotel in the first place!” But ultimately she realizes that Tanya and Rosie just want to be included, the hotel means a lot to everyone, and Rosie is obviously tired from the book tour, and Tanya occasionally shows the occasional crack in her usual demeanor. Sophie concludes that it would be best if they joined them, knowing they could all use the some of the magical atmosphere the island seems to offer.)

Things, despite getting off to a bumpy and highly amusing start, are actually going pretty well now for the Dads. There’s plenty of moments that showcase that instant friendship the three of them had, as they work through the mishaps, it’s obvious to see, especially in Bill and Harry, the contrasting and yet somehow complimentary way they work together. Harry’s particular ways of solving problems come into play during this time, much to everyone’s confounded amusement. After a particularly good day of being together, Bill decides to confide in Sam, who has somewhat of an idea as to what’s going on, that he wants to give a relationship with Harry a serious go.

As it happens, Harry of course overhears a part of the conversation, but misunderstands, as Harry and Bill so often do, knowing each other so well but somehow being so wrong, he falsely assumes Bill is certainly talking about the newly arrived Rosie. Rosie, who initially did think her and Bill would reunite, also manages to hear parts of the conversation, and concludes Bill is talking about someone else, and Harry and Rosie sing I Know Him So Well about Bill.

When Bill later tries to talk to Harry, he is uncharacteristically nervous, and is having a hard time saying everything he wants to say. Harry further misinterprets it to be about Rosie, and hurt, he confesses how much Bill means to him by singing The Day Before You Came, which Bill sings his own verse of to explain Harry had changed his life too, but Harry doesn’t hear it, as he’s already walked away.

Bill, who is now certain this is what he wants, berates himself for being a coward, when he and Harry had obviously wanted the same things. Now more determined and excited than ever to embark on this brand new adventure, he asks to talk to Rosie to clear the air once and for all. She confronts him about being in love with someone else, and when he confesses, she surprises him by asking if it’s Harry. He admits it is, and she admits she’s always thought there was something between them. Bill never opened up to her as easily and quickly as he had Harry, and never looked at her, or any of the girls she had seen Bill with, quite the same way as he had Harry.

He apologizes to Rosie for never being able to give her the life that she deserved, and she she admits she thinks she forced their relationship on Bill. They sing Dance (While the Music Still Goes On), and after they dance, Rosie chides him, Bill Anderson, of being afraid of anything, let alone Harry Bright of all people. Bill remarks he sees something in Tanya and Rosie that’s perhaps similar to Harry and himself. Rosie agrees that Tanya would be preferable to carbs and they laugh, this time parting amicably, as good friends with a kiss on the cheek.

As well as things have been going at the hotel, things suddenly seem to crash all at once, causing strain on all of the relationships. Bill is upset as Harry is now avoiding him, and as he snaps at Sam over something completely unrelated, somewhere in evolves into an argument with Bill stating Sam wasted most of his lifetime with Donna, something that Sam still struggles with. Tanya, who also knows about Bill and Harry (she told Harry she had seen the sexual chemistry from the beginning, and Harry, feeling she was a close friend, hadn’t felt the need to lie to her) makes a comment to Harry along the lines about there being other lays in the sea for him, and Harry chastises her about there being more to life than sex, especially at their age, something Tanya has secretly been acknowledging herself. Upset, she turns to Rosie and criticizes her for wanting to get back with Bill, not knowing they had broken up for good. The fights come to a head when Harry, once again having awful timing, had witnessed Bill kiss Rosie’s cheek, affirming everything he had thought to be true, at least in his mind, and his frustration at never being a factor in Bill’s life culminates in a huge disagreement between the two, despite Bill trying to tell him otherwise.

The usual magical feel of the island suddenly feels void, it feels no different than the reality all of them had been coming to Kalokairi to escape. Sophie and family return to find low spirits and everyone, despite their promises, planning to leave. Sophie pleads for them to reconsider, reminding them that they had all come to the island for something, and they needed to remember what it was. She leaves with the parting words that the magic never was the island itself, it was all of them finding each other and forming the family that they had. Her mom had brought all of them together, and she didn’t want to have that change just because Donna was no longer there to hold them together.

As they sit and look at one another across the room, they know that Sophie is right. Together they sing The Way That Old Friends Do. During the song Bill and Harry entwine their fingers, Rosie lays her head on Tanya’s shoulder, and Sam sings to the spirit of Donna.

As the song ends, and they all share quiet smiles, Rosie catches Bill’s eye and nods, encouraging him to go on. Bill takes a breath and begins to sing Take A Chance On Me. Despite reluctance at the very beginning from Harry, Bill can see the smile forming and Bill’s confidence grows as he continues to sing, knowing Harry is about to let loose. As as Bill sings, Harry transitions to taking over singing Honey, Honey with gusto, with Rosie and Tanya (and even Sam) joyfully jumping in as his back up girls. The group transitions to Mamma Mia!, the previous feel good feeling back in full force. Bill takes the transition again, changing the tune to I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, with their friends encouraging Harry to say yes to Bill’s proposal. Harry doesn’t need any encouragement at all, he is just trying to get his I do! in but the chorus and Bill keep interrupting him. He eventually grabs Bill and silences him with a very telling kiss, which leads to the transition of Waterloo, as they’ve finally surrendered to their fears and couldn’t be happier. As the joyous notes end, we get a final, touching moment of the beloved group singing the reprise of When All Is Said and Done, the song mimicking where all of the characters now stand. Sam sings to and with the spirit of Donna, who may be gone but the love, and the family, she gave to Sam remains strong, despite their short time of getting to be together and he doesn’t regret any of it. Rosie is no longer in a hurry to force a relationship, and she smiles at Tanya, knowing her best relationship will always be the one with her. Tanya, slightly worn but always dignified, acknowledges she can have her rousing lifestyle but have actual love as well. (And of course she is not too old for sex. She gets a whoop from Rosie, a suggestive eyebrow movement from Bill directed at Harry, and a bright blush and chuckle of acknowledgement from Harry.) Harry, ever the anxious man, is for once calm, and Bill, ever the man on the move, has no desire to run.

The end comes with the entire cast singing an encore of Dancing Queen, as it’s being danced to at Bill and Harry’s wedding, and a comment about how they are going to need to change the lyric of “only seventeen” to “only seventy” if they plan to continue singing that song is uttered.

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zayntoxicateme · 6 years ago

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June 18, 2018

We managed to catch up with the quietly enigmatic singer.

Read "How Do You Explain Zayn?"

Zayn, the one-named man who found himself reborn after leaving One Direction, is now on GQ's cover. In his shoot with Sebastian Mader, Zayn channels Tyler Durden and Leo DiCaprio's Romeo. And the wildly enigmatic singer also let down his guard, briefly, in talking to writer Carrie Battan about his relationship with Gigi Hadid, the self indulgence of being a "star," and his crafty use of the paparazzi for his own devices—a story you can read here (full story is below; the link will take you to the GQ website)

How Do You Explain Zayn?

Carrie Battan

Photographs by

Sebastian Mader

The 25-year-old British singer is deeply, maddeningly, almost trolling-ly enigmatic. And that cultivated mystery—along with his disdain for the standard rules of superstardom—is probably what puts him on the short list for COOLEST HUMAN ALIVE. On a recent Friday night, though, he dropped his guard and spilled his guts.

There are exactly two places in New York on a Friday night where Zayn Malik can smoke Marlboro Lights as liberally and openly as he pleases, unencumbered by gawkers or the city's increasingly draconian anti-smoking laws. The ﬁrst is Zayn Malik's SoHo apartment, where he spends the majority of his time, zoning out, reading books, listening to music, and "partaking in the herb," as he says. The second is the Mary A. Whalen, a 172-foot-long restored-tanker-ship-turned-nonproﬁt-hangout-spot that is docked off the shore of Red Hook, Brooklyn. The ship is closed for business after 6 P.M., but tonight its leader, a hardy blonde ship preservationist named Carolina, has agreed to keep it open late to accommodate us. No crowds, a few plastic chairs, and a gently lilting surface that is basically a giant ashtray.

There is just one problem: The temperature on deck is decreasing rapidly with the setting sun, and Zayn—the 25-year-old former British-boy-band member, current solo pop-ish star, and all-around inscrutable avatar of contemporary celebrity—has arrived with nothing on his person but a lighter, a backpack, and an iPhone. No jacket on his rail-thin five-ten frame—just a pair of charcoal skinny jeans, a distressed Pink Floyd T-shirt, a bright pink beanie that obscures his new ﬂower skull tattoo (or "tah-oo," as Zayn pronounces it). He looks so modernly cool, blending a hip-hop swagger with a punk-rock edge, that he should receive a cut from Urban Outﬁtters every time someone makes a purchase. He is the only man whose Disney-princess-long eyelashes seem to bolster his machismo rather than diminish it. Nobody this dreamy has ever bothered to check the weather to see if he should grab a jacket before leaving the house. Through chattering teeth, he rejects multiple offers of blankets. "It's all good," he insists, burping faintly after taking a swig of his Peroni. "I'm cool."

Still, Carolina avails us of the ship's warmer galley. "I might have a cigarette ﬁrst?" Zayn asks, as though he needs permission, gesturing toward the other side of the ship. Over there is his assistant Taryn, a young woman with French-braided pigtails that make her look more like a high school soccer player than someone designated to manage the everyday logistics of a notoriously slippery superstar's life. She is the custodian of his pack, doling out individual cigarettes to Zayn periodically.

But Carolina assures us Zayn will not have to stay outside to smoke his cigarette. She'll let us smoke belowdecks on the condition that Zayn provide her one of his Marlboros and permission to snap a photograph. She promises she won't post it until after the story runs. "Uh…yeah?" Zayn replies, sounding sincerely surprised that he is the one who has to answer a question that was directed at him.

A steely detachment from life's mundane logistical concerns is part of almost every celebrity's existence, but it is the core of Zayn's being. This character trait has ruinous potential, but it also means he gets to live his life exactly how he pleases. And it means that he doesn't have to express a single word or hint of desire in order for the conditions around him to re-arrange to his liking and comfort. There's a hapless Peter Pan quality to it that makes it tough to hold against him.

We settle around the table in the '70s-style kitchen on the boat. It's 15 degrees warmer down here and private. Zayn instantly appears relieved, his shoulders unclenching and his brow de-furrowing. He stops shivering. He is in a womb-like space, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes, and he seems palpably and unexpectedly happy. "Thanks," he says quietly and earnestly in Carolina's direction as she seals off the door behind us. "Couple of times I tried to quit. But I just like smoking cigs. Simple as that."

There is a major conundrum in Zayn's life, which is that he may be constitutionally incapable of being a star. He tells me so almost immediately. "I don't work well in group situations, with loads of people staring at me. And when you say 'star'…everyone wants you to be this kind of character that owns a room or is overly arrogant or conﬁdent. I'm not that guy," he says. "So I don't want to be a star." Zayn seems to aspire to the soul of Prince, or some cult '90s skate-punk ﬁgure, but is trapped in the trajectory of a Justin Timberlake.

A decade ago, someone like Zayn would not have become the Chosen Member of a band like One Direction. The Chosen Member is the boy-band graduate whose solo career evolves and hurdles into grown-up relevance, ultimately overshadowing the band's legacy. Until recently, you could spot a Chosen Member from a mile away—he was unequivocally the best dancer and the one the most girls wanted to bring home to their parents. But Zayn never ﬁt the mold of a Chosen Member. From the day One Direction formed, on the U.K. show The X Factor in 2010, he was cast as the smoldering background foil to the eager-to-please Harry Styles and Liam Payne. His energy and his dance moves were muted. He presented as the quiet, disillusioned one.

But in the past ﬁve years or so, it has become acceptable—necessary, even—for a young pop star to show some edge. Thanks to the social-media-fueled, ever intensifying quest for authenticity, real or feigned, we no longer expect our most famous musicians to be toothless and virginal robots. Now we demand that they show a certain degree of lustiness, instability, anti-heroism. The Weeknd scored a No. 1 hit with an elaborately coded song about a cocaine binge—and then followed it up with another No. 1 hit, this one explicitly referencing a cocaine binge. Lana Del Rey's entire aesthetic revolves around a kind of narcotized death wish. And Taylor Swift spent her last album desperately trying to persuade us that she really is villainous. Even Disney's babiest-faced of pop princesses, Selena Gomez, is getting mileage out of her demons, playing a Girl, Interrupted–style heroine and rocking a hospital bracelet in a music video. Face tattoos are basically required for entry onto the Billboard Hot 100 these days. Squeaky-clean is no more.

And yet even for the most tortured-seeming of these artists, there is still a ﬁerce expectation that they play the game. Mild drug habits or mental illnesses are perfectly acceptable, so long as someone is willing to write catchy songs about those tendencies and then later gussy them up for arena audiences and gamely ﬁeld jokes from talk-show hosts. Even Justin Bieber, the poster child for our current era of troubled pop stars, is always just one phone call with his pastor away from being able to quiet his demons and pop-and-lock on demand.

Zayn seems like a perfect avatar for this new generation of bruised pop heartthrobs, but he's the only one of his cohorts who can back it up with a sincerely jaded disposition and an unpredictable way of being. He is the only one who is staunchly unwilling to play the game. You will not ﬁnd Zayn cheesing with a random group of famous people for someone's Instagram story at Coachella, nor will you ﬁnd Zayn learning the latest viral dance move with Ellen DeGeneres. When he released his solo debut, Mind of Mine, two years ago, he opted out of touring altogether, surely pissing off a bunch of emotionally and ﬁnancially invested parties. And although he promises to be more public-facing this time around—he insists he will tour—he's still removed from the album-cycle content churn. He says the creators of Atlanta have reached out to him to appear on the show—a dream opportunity for anyone in the music industry at this moment—but persnickety Zayn is still mulling the potential. "If the part's right, I'd be really into it," he says. Even the "behind-the-scenes" video that accompanied his new single fails to actually take anyone "behind the scenes"—it's just the song playing over some B-roll. "I guess the cameraman didn't get too much footage," Zayn says on the boat. "I might have been running away from him a bit."

When I ask him why he failed to show up at the Met Gala a couple days earlier, he almost chokes on his cigarette smoke as he exhales. He went to the Met Gala once, in 2016, and that experience symbolized everything he detests about being a famous person—and the litany of coercion and artiﬁce that someone in his position experiences.

"I did go, but I didn't go there to be like, 'Yo, take me serious,' " he remembers. "I was taking the piss! I went there as my favorite Mortal Kombat character, Jax."

He continues: "The Met Gala is not necessarily anything that I ever knew about or was about. But my [former] stylist…would say to me, 'This is really good for you to do.' And no matter how strong you are mentally, you can always be swayed to do certain things. Now, it's not something I would go to. I'd rather be sitting at my house, doing something productive, than dressing up in really expensive clothes and being photographed on a red carpet.… To do the self-indulgent Look at me, I'm amazing thing on the red carpet, it's not me."

Here Zayn catches himself, probably realizing this might register as a diss of Gigi Hadid, the 23-year-old supermodel he's been in an on-again, off-again relationship with for two years. The supermodel who very much seemed to enjoy dressing up in really expensive clothes and being photographed on the red carpet days earlier.

"I get it, and I understand that people gain enjoyment from it," he says. I ask if he followed along with the coverage from his couch. "No, no," he says, and pauses. "Gi stole the night, though. The stained glass on her dress. Everyone else just put a cross on."

When I ask Zayn if he has any conﬁdants in the industry, he shakes his head vigorously. "No," he says. "I don't ever want to cross wires with other people too much. I just want to see the world through my eyes."

Zayn grew up with three sisters ("I was outnumbered," he says) and is still surrounded by women, ensuring that there's a high level of exasperated but fond maternal energy swirling at all times. Blood relatives and the Hadids—particularly Gigi's mother, Yolanda, who seems to have taken on a Kris Jenner–ian role in his life—make up much of his inner circle today. ("We get on. She's really fucking cool. She's a Capricorn. She's the same star sign as me.") He recently parted ways with his high-proﬁle manager. His best friend is a younger cousin.

"I'm not [in] the mix," he says. "I'm outside the mix."

This kind of stubborn non-participation, of course, is a reaction to the years Zayn spent being in a mix that was not to his liking. When he was a kid, growing up in the northern working-class city of Bradford, singing was just one part of an aimless but all-consuming creative impulse. He never thought he was much of a singer, until one day the choir leader at his performing-arts school praised his voice and suggested that he try out for Britain's premier vocal-competition show. Zayn's mom had to drag him from his bed at 4 A.M. to attend the audition, where he broke from the typical pop fare with a rendition of Mario's "Let Me Love You."

After his X Factor audition, there was an exchange (never aired) in which head judge Simon Cowell probed baby Zayn. " 'You know, with all these online platforms, why haven't you ever put out anything prior to this?' " Zayn remembers Cowell asking him. Zayn seemed the type, after all: a soft-spoken and artistically gifted teen who liked to sing alone in his bedroom and tinkered with rudimentary song-recording equipment. "I didn't necessarily think my stuff would be seen amongst the millions of people who put their stuff online. So I went with X Factor at that age," he says now. Like any ﬁckle teenager, Zayn "just did it for fun, to see what would happen."

The day that Zayn auditioned, he was among many aspiring solo artists rejected by the judges. But ﬁve of the young singers were cobbled together as a boy band in a later segment. Thus was born One Direction and a rabid fandom that British people love to compare to Beatlemania. A craze so ﬁerce and massive that it generated global synchronized ﬂash mobs and fan-ﬁction authors who've reportedly scored six-ﬁgure book deals. In an instant, Zayn was thrust into a star-making boot camp, fast-tracked to an uncontrollable type of notoriety without being given the opportunity to consider alternatives.

It's no secret that Zayn didn't love One Direction's sound or his bandmates. "My vision didn't necessarily always go with what was going on within the band," he says. There was something so earnest, so wholesomely dweeby, about the whole thing. It wasn't cool, and Zayn didn't particularly enjoy being dragged around the world to look like an epic dork during the prime of his youth.

When he split off, in 2015, Zayn ﬁnally got to do all the things he hadn't been able to in One Direction: dye his hair, grow his beard, sing about sex. But he was also introduced to a fresh army of puppeteers trying to guide him, and he felt disoriented, adrift. The only way to ground himself was to resist the pull of anyone's expectations and answer only to Zayn. He'd spent ﬁve years taking direction and had become allergic to it.

There are plenty of clichéd expressions about how toxic and stiﬂing freedom can be, and Zayn experienced many of them when he went solo. "I didn't really, like, make any friends from the band. I just didn't do it. It's not something that I'm afraid to say. I deﬁnitely have issues trusting people," he says. When he was living in Los Angeles, aimless, he fell in with a crowd of industry people: "Producers, musicians, tailors, stylists, managers. Them kind of things," he says. "It got too crazy. I just got too much into the party scene. Just going out all the time. And I was too distracted." So he left L.A. permanently and moved to New York earlier this year as a way to bring himself back down to earth.

Running a bit further, he recently bought a farm in rural Pennsylvania on the advice of Yolanda Hadid, who also has a farm there. The farm? "Cool." The state of Pennsylvania? "Cool." If you haven't picked up on it for yourself yet, Zayn loves the word "cool"; he loves it so much that he uses it more than 43 times over the course of our conversation. And now that Zayn likes to go to his farm and visit the Hadids, he and Gigi even have a horse together, named Cool. He's just getting things going on the farm, but already there are crops of cherries, tomatoes, and cucumbers. He likes to ride his ATVs. Sometimes he and Gigi will go at the same time, and she'll ride a horse, like Cool, while he watches.

Zayn has a habit of speaking in a conditioned state of detachment, responding in friendly but anodyne one-liners. Still, even someone who willfully projects this kind of cool two-dimensionalism can get irked from being flattened all the time by those around him. I catch myself flattening him, even when he's right in front of me. When I bring up the deceased Lil Peep, with whom he shared a manager, I say that it's a shame they never met—they seem like kindred spirits who could have made a great song together, or at least bonded over tattoos.

Zayn begins to laugh. "I'm not just going to be friends [with people] because we've both got tattoos. Loads of people come up to me and they're like, 'Yo, I got tattoos, you got tattoos. Let's be friends.' And I'm like… 'We're not just going to be friends because we've both got tattoos.'

"There's a bit more depth to me than that," he says, admonishing me.

One topic that will draw out this aforementioned depth is, unexpectedly, America. Despite the fact that he is living in a country under a leader that is exceptionally hostile to immigrants, the fantasy of America as a come-one, come-all melting pot is alive and well in Zayn's mind. He says he'd vote for Oprah if she ran for office because he likes her "ideologies about the world" and she's a "badass businesswoman."

"The UK is like, Fuck you, you're successful. That's not a nice attitude to have," he says. "You come to America, you're a bit shocked at first: Are these people being genuine? Are they really interested in me? Do they want to have a conversation? But they do! And that's a really nice thing. And I feel like it's misrepresented across the globe. For the kind of country it is, because everybody supports, no matter what color, what gender, what sexuality, what class—none of that matters here. People genuinely want to know you for who you are. And that's how America should be represented across the world."

Watch Now:Zayn Rocks Summer’s Best Swerves

Maybe you should run for office, I say.

"Maybe. It'd be cool. I feel like it's a beautiful place. [Because of the current political climate,] people are expressing how they really feel about where they come from and their heritage and their backgrounds. They're all mixed. To be American, you are mixed.

"So that's how I feel about it—it's a beautiful place, and it's a beautiful time to be alive."

Another unlikely topic that will break Zayn out of his default conversational mode and get him talking in jolting, paragraphs-long monologues: the paparazzi. The paparazzi who have been trailing him for years and, recently, every time he sets foot near Gigi's NoHo apartment, feeding the endless tabloid speculation about the state of their relationship. The paps used to piss Zayn off, until he realized their utility.

"That's my promo," he says. "I come outside, they take photos." He gets to quietly remind people that he exists—and gets photographed looking like the second coming of Johnny Depp, leaving the apartment of one of the most gorgeous women in the world—without doing a thing. "They stay outside and do all the work!" he says. "You can get pissed off about it and be like, 'Yo, this is a hindrance on my life.' Or you can use it for your own beneﬁt and be like, 'Well, if they're going to take the photos, then let them.' You've gotta earn your dollar, and I've gotta earn mine."

Which is to say that just because Zayn loathes the cornball industry churn doesn't mean he needs to surrender his relevance. Zayn represents an era in which underground cool and mass-market, Calabasian-style popularity have collapsed into one another. He operates on a plane where celebrity is predicated chieﬂy on relevance and intrigue, and Zayn—with his equally illustrious girlfriend, his brooding glare, and his following of millions—has about as much relevance and intrigue as anybody. He is both a casualty and a beneﬁciary of this uniquely modern form of celebrity. In running from his stardom, he's only fueling it.

I suppose now is the time to dispense with the rest of the intel I gleaned from Zayn about his relationship with Gigi Hadid, which was a less sensitive subject than I had anticipated. The two met at the end of 2015 at a party—which "pah-y," Zayn will not disclose, but suffice it to say it was a "cool pah-y"—and just days later, Zayn learned she'd broken up with Joe Jonas. He reached out to her and asked her to dinner at the Bowery Hotel. And thus was born a couple that will go down in history as one of the most iconic and Zeitgeisty pairings of all time, a couple whose images I will show my grandchildren to prove that the world was better in my day. All of the gossip about their relationship being an opportunistic setup by their respective management is bullshit, Zayn says: "If a relationship is for your career, you can fucking walk out the door. No way. See you later."

Despite the dramatic announcement of their split a couple of months ago, Zayn and Gigi are very much still close, as evidenced by myriad photos of him leaving her apartment or kissing her on the street. Zayn speaks about Gigi in a purely misty-eyed, worshipful tone that telegraphs he may be atoning for something. "I'm really thankful that I met her," he says. He uses the term "we" in the present tense quite a bit: "We go to the farm." "We have horses." The time he actually rode a horse with Gigi, he says, "I looked like a complete idiot and she looked like a complete professional.… We're still really good friends, and we're still in contact," he says. "No bad blood." He laughs. "…Taylor Swift.

"We're adults. We don't need to put a label on it, make it something for people's expectations." To hear Zayn tell it, Gigi is the hyper-organized, clear-headed, and positive counterweight to his disposition, which can dip into a vacant or negative state. She helped him reset his attitude when he was releasing his ﬁrst solo album, partying too hard. "I had a very negative outlook on things. That might have been adolescence or testosterone or whatever the fuck was running through my body at the time," he says. "She's helped me to look at things from a positive angle."

As Zayn heads into his new album cycle, Gigi has been a font of support and organizational heft. He says she's especially good with dates, which I mishear as "good with debts."

She's good with debts? You're in debt?

"No, no. Dates. She doesn't handle my ﬁnances yet," he says. "We'll get to that eventually."

When Zayn Malik went solo, he dropped his last name. The mononymic "Zayn" took on a potency and directness that enabled him to break free from the chains of boy-band drudgery and lameness. Zayn: It's a single syllable that conjures a vaporous sexuality and a moodiness that blurs the line between contemplative and blank. You can imagine the black-and-white commercial for L'Eau de Zayn.

In the years since he dropped his last name, the word "Zayn" has also become, to insiders, an equally potent verb. To "Zayn" means to be within someone's reach one moment and then completely disappear the next without any explanation. Poof! To be "Zayned" is to witness a French exit so aggressive that it almost has a supernatural quality. I know this because it happened to me.

We emerged from the ship's galley, and as I prepared to launch into more conversation, he asked Carolina where he could ﬁnd the toilets. She pointed him toward a porta-potty on dry land, and Taryn wordlessly followed behind him, obviously accustomed to this ritual. Before I could get my bearings, he was zipping off into the parking lot adjacent to the tanker, no doubt scurrying home to his fortress of solitude and cigarette smoke in SoHo. I'd been Zayned.

We were supposed to hang out the following week, and I patiently waited for him to reach out. But I knew that he never would. And much as I'd like to be the exception to the Laws of Zayn's Nature, I get it. Who among us has never fantasized about blowing off pesky professional obligations we deem useless? Zayn—driven by a spirit that is part self-destruction, part self-preservation, part youthful punk contrarianism—actually has the balls to live that fantasy. It's self-absorbed, immature, and unprofessional. I'd be offended if I didn't think it was so fucking cool.

Carrie Battan is a staff writer for 'The New Yorker' and a contributor to 'GQ'.

An abridged version of this story appeared in the July 2018 issue.

#zayn #gq #interview #magazine #print interview #love of my life

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rfsak2 · 7 years ago

Text

Cactus, Part XIV

I didn’t know we would be blessed with Baby!Harry today, but I’m glad we were. Seems almost appropro... Enjoy!

Cactus, Part XIV Summary: Next Steps. The Styles Warning: None!

She smiled and kissed Niall on the cheek as he passed where she sat at the table.

“Ya good, Jamie?”

She nodded and rubbed her thumb over Harry’s thigh under the table. “I’m great! You?”

He nodded, slightly less awkward and uncomfortable then the other three men at the table.

She mimicked his nod and squeezed Harry’s thigh, before patting it and standing. “Well, I’m gonna go shopping… you guys-” she made a vague motion, wiggling her fingers at them, “-figure shit out, yeah?”

Harry pouted at her and grabbed for her hand, whispering lowly. “No, love. Don’t leave.”

She grabbed her purse with her free hand. “I’m not part of this, baby. I won’t be the Yoko to your John. You love these guys and you’re being unnecessarily avoidant. You’re a grown-ass, married man. Act like it. Take care of your shit, make your apologies and listen to theirs. You wanted this. Quit being silly.”

He tried for a grin and failed. “I won't act my age, no, I won't act my age. No, I'll still feel the same around you.”

“Cute.” She kissed his forehead and smiled at the other men. “Figure it out.”

“Have fun, Jamie.” Niall smiled.

Smiling, she turned away and then turned back. “Liam, did you ever send me a pic of Bear? A more recent one, I mean.” She checked her phone. “I have one of Freddie and I was going go print them and frame them while I was out. For our picture wall.”

Liam smiled and like that the tension was at least lessened. “I text ye one now.”

“A good one, though. One with you and Cheryl in it too?”

“Will do, Jamie.” He grinned. “Have fun. Go spend all of Haz’s money.”

She flicked him off, smiling, and waved, pausing to point down at Harry. “Get shit done, Styles.”

He grinned. “I love yeh, Styles.”

“Love you too.” She blew him a kiss.

As she left the bar, she could hear Louis chuckle. “I’ve always like yeh bird, mate. Bit ova hard-ass, innit? Doesn’t let you get with anythin’, does she?”

“Only when I’m bein’ dim. Look… I’m-”

She gave it a couple of hours and texted Niall, knowing that if it wasn’t going well, she’d get a straight answer out of him, not just a desperate plea from her 25-year-old toddler to come back and break up the awkwardness.

How’s it going?

It’s going fine, Jamie. Give us a tad longer. I’ll tell Harry text you.

Right. Sounds good.

‘A tad longer’ ended up being the rest of the afternoon, Harry calling her and telling her that he’d catch a lift with one of the boys and would see her at home.

Later, after unwrapping the newly framed pictures of Louis’ and Liam’s respective familie, she smiled. She took down the two older pictures of the boys down and tried to decide if the newer photos would fit or if she’d have rearrange to make room.

She was holding Louis’ photo up against the wall when she felt two lanky arms wrap around her waist.

Harry pressed his face into her neck and sighed. “Those are good photos.”

She nodded. “They’re both really cute little munchkins for sure.”

She lifted the photo of Niall and his girlfriend off its nail and held it up higher on the wall, trying to see if it would mess with the spacing of the whole wall.

Harry propped his chin on her shoulder and hummed. “I like it there.”

She set it down next to the other two photos. Smiling over her shoulder, she lifted the hammer off the little side table she had commandeered. “You wanna put those man hands to good use?”

He grinned and grabbed the hammer from her as she stepped out of the way.

“How’d it go, baby?” She passed him a nail.

He shrugged.

“Really. How’d it go?”

He smiled down at her and shrugged again with more purpose. He winked at her. “It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.”

She kissed his cheek. “Happy you did it?”

Leaning over to kiss her, he nabbed another nail. “Yes, I am quite pleased. Glad my wife is so smart.”

“Good.” She shot him a smug smile. “Glad my husband is humble enough to say so.” He snorted. “So you’re doin’ it then. 1D is coming back.”

Shrugging again, he took the last nail from her and sighed.

“Shrugger, no shrugging.”

He grinned and stuck his tongue out at her.

“You know you don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t want to do, right baby? You know that.”

He smiled at her. “I’m not… I want to do it. Loved bein’ in 1D, really did…”

“Then what?” She rubbed a hand over his side. “I don’t like seein’ ya so conflicted, baby. Talk to me.”

He tapped in the last nail. “I think I’m just worried.” He huffed. “What if we’re not relevant anymore, what if we’re just tryin’ to dig up somethin’ we killed four years ago?”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Do you really think it’s dead? There is a large group of twenty-somethings that would disagree.”

“But it’s different now. We’re different… older.”

Handing him Niall’s photo, she smiled. “You’re only 25, Harry. Nowhere near old.”

“True.” He nodded and hung it. “What if we’re going backwards? I want to keep moving forward.”

“Then keep moving forward.” She kissed his jaw. “Build off what you all accomplished separately and make this something that is relevant and is moving forward. They, the fans, the media, management, what have you, they’re always going to want to hear What Makes You Beautiful and Kiss You and Perfect and that’s okay, they’re great songs, but you guys can still make something new. No one wants to stay stagnant.” She passed him Louis’ photo and then Liam’s photo.

When both were hung the couple stepped back. She smiled up at him. “Looks good.”

He nodded and sat on the arm of the couch, pulling her between his legs. “So yeh think this is a good move? Yeh think this is the right thing?”

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Do you want to do it? Honestly. No pressure. Do you want to do it?”

He was quiet for a long moment. “Yes.”

“Then do it.” She kissed his cheek. “Do good work and do it on y’all’s terms and no one else’s and do it for as long as you want to do it.”

He nodded. “Okay.” He tucked his face in her neck. “We talked a bit about the album. Looks like we’re gonna make it in London. Seems neater and easier.”

She winced. “For how long?”

“Couple of months at least.”

She took a deep breath. A couple of months shouldn’t seem so daunting but she knows that a couple of months could easily be three or four or more...and then there was a tour. “Okay.”

He pulled away just a bit to look at her. She wasn’t crying but she didn’t really look happy either. “None of that, love. I’m not leaving yeh here. Want yeh to come. Need yeh to come. Can’t be without yeh.” He gathered her against him again. “Want yeh to work on the album. We all do. Want yeh to be on t’tour too.”

She sighed and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “1D has a band, baby.”

“We did.” He nodded. She didn’t miss the ‘we’ and it made her smile. “Four years ago. Some of them can’t come on short notice. We called them to see.” He shrugged. “Want both you and Mitch.”

She smiled and leaned up to kiss him. “Have you called Mitch?”

He nodded. “Texted him, yeah. He can work on the album but he’s got a commitment, can’t do a tour right now.”

She smiled. “Alright then.”

“Yeah?” He smiled and squeezed her closer. “You will?”

“Of course. When have I ever said no to workin’ with my hubby?” She kissed his temple. “And Mitchy. I miss Mitchy.”

“He was here last week.”

She shrugged. “We didn’t jam though. Just drank. I miss jammin’ with Mitchy.”

“What was that first conversation like?” The interviewer smiled gently. “Must have been a bit weird.”

Louis nodded. “It was a bit… a bit awkward.”

“Harry needed his emotional support... person.”

“Your what?”

Niall snorted. “His wife.”

Harry elbowed Liam. “I thought you were callin’ me wife an animal.”

With a wide, cheeky grin, Liam shook his head. “Nah, wouldn’t do that to Jamie-love. I like her more than I like you.”

Harry chuckled. “Arse.”

He patted Harry’s chest. “Did good, kid. She’s a good one.”

Louis smiled. “She left as soon as we were all there though. Went shoppin’. Left us to talk it out like men.”

Nodding, Niall shrugged. “It was a bit awkward and a bit weird but… y’know. We talked it out and here we are.”

The interviewer smiled. “Here you are. Are you proud of the album?”

Liam nodded. “Very proud, yeah.”

“So Harry, you’ve been married over a year now. Liam and Louis, you both have a child.”

“‘Niall’s all alone, forever single. Bachelor extraordinaire’.” Niall clutched a hand to his chest. “No one loves me.”

“Is that true? Are you single?”

Niall grinned. “Dunno. Might be.”

“So there have been some life changes since you were last here.” The interviewer smiled. “How does that change how you tour?”

“It makes it more difficult, of course. Have to balance everything better this time. Don’t want to end up burned out and angry that I missed my kid’s life, y’know.” Liam grinned. “I won’t speak for Louis, but Harry’s gone and married the guitarist, so not much changes for him, I’d guess.”

Harry shrugged. “I get a bigger room now.” He laughed into his fist, glancing at Jamie behind the camera. “No, but to be ser-”

“Wait really?” The interviewer chortled. “Did they have you on twin beds before?”

Louis shook his head. “Cots… four cots right next t’each other in one room. To keep us out of trouble.”

“Oh. Right. Did it work?”

“No, not particularly.”

Harry nodded. “Now they’re gonna like screen off a corner for me so me and the missus can have privacy. Do the same for Liam when Cheryl comes to visit.”

Casting a look over his shoulder at the woman shaking her head in the corner, the interviewer smiled. “Your wife is shaking her head. Don’t think I should believe you.”

“Good choice.” Harry grinned at her over the interviewer’s shoulder. “I’d believe her over me too.””

“Harry!”

Harry jumped. “Yes?”

The interviewer, a younger woman, smiled just shy of coy. “You’re growing your hair out again, I see.”

“Yeah… uh.” He glanced at Liam. “Yeah. Recently found out that my wife really liked my hair long.”

Louis chuckled. “Just now? You’ve been together for what… three years? Just found out now?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah... Y’know how she is. She didn’t want t’make a fuss over something silly. ‘Jus’ hair’ she said.” Grinning, he shrugged. “While we were recording, one night, she must have been exhausted to even have brought up, she just turned to me and said ‘I’m kinda sad that I never got to have sex with you when you had the long hair.’”

Niall died laughing. “And that was that.”

Harry nodded. “Yep. Haven’t cut my hair since. But back to the album, we had a number-”

“There’s a slight difference between some of your older material and the new…” James chuckled and avoided Louis’ dead-ass stare.

“Really, James.”

James nodded. “Yes, there’s a difference between say Drag Me Down and Back At It.”

“No [bleep].”

Harry, back in back middle, covered his face while Niall and Liam each collapsed against his shoulder, grown men giggling.

Louis smiled sweetly, like he wasn’t the savage he clearly was. “What’s your question, James?”

He laughed, pretending to shrink away from him. “I’m gonna pull this car over and someone else is going to sit shotgun.”

“What’s your question?”

James grinned. “In what ways do you feel like you’ve matured and how has that changed your music as a band.”

Liam grinned. “Well… we’re men now, men with experience and responsibilities, I think… most of us anyway. Harry still can’t grow a beard.”

Harry shook his head at Liam, smiling. “My inability to grow a beard has actually added stability to our growth as a band… a constant… somethin’ unchanging.”

James snickered. “How does your wife feel about the beard situation?”

Harry sniffed, his nose turning up. “She loves me just as I am… Thank you very much.”

Harry grinned at the audience, feeling the rush of performing for tens of thousands of people, feeling the sheer difference in atmosphere between a One Direction concert and a solo-artist Harry Styles show.

He lifted the mic to his mouth. “It’s good to be back.” He strutted out down the walkway. “We’ve missed yeh. Have yeh missed us?”

The crowd roared.

“Good… Good.” He wiped his forehead playfully. “Was worried. Before we go any further, let me introduce yeh to the band.” The crowd cheered and he made a shushing motion. “First we have Jon Shone on the keyboard. Give it up for the keyboard!”

The crowd clapped.

“We have the always divine Josh Devine.” The crowd started cheering before he could even finish the sentence. “Give it up for Josh on the drums!”

He grinned. “We have Sandy Beales, who is still doin’ the same thing every night.”

Sandy grinned from the band podium and mouthed ‘You too!’

Harry grinned. “Sandy is on the bass guitar. Give it up for Sandy!! He’s also right. I too am no longer a bachelor.” The crowd roared and Harry turned to grin at Jamie. “Which leads me to the last member of our band, on the electric guitar…. MY WIFE!”

Jamie lifted her hand and smiled as the crowd cheered.

“I’m a very proud man.” Harry waved at her from halfway across the stadium. “Hey Monster!”

Jamie waved back and blew him a kiss.

The crowd went wild. “Give it up for Jamie Styles on the guitar!”

“So in case you missed it: that is Jon, Josh, Sandy and Jamie…” He grinned. “The J’s… and Sandy. Sandy, mate, you’re called Jack now… for the sake of being able to refer to the band as the J’s.”

Sandy gave a laugh and a thumbs up as the crowd laughed.

“They are the J’s and this is Better than Words.”

The crowd erupted as he skipped down the walkway, glancing back at Jamie every once and awhile.

“Better than words But more than a feeling Crazy in love Dancing on the ceiling.”

He sang to the first row of fans, making faces and flirting with screaming girls, before taking off back towards the main stage, pausing to grab Liam’s ass as he passed.

Winking up at her, he turned back to the crowd for the chorus before clambering up the band podium to get in behind her as Louis took up his mic.

She turned to look up at him. “What are you doin’, ya loon?”

As she looked back down to continue playing, she felt him nip in close, rolling his hips against her backside.

“Best I ever had Hips don't lie.”

He sang along in her ear and she had to fight to keep focused on playing an instrument.

“You make me wanna sss”

He pressed completely against her and she gasped, chuckling. “Not fair, Haz.”

“One more night Irreplaceable, crazy, we're crazy”

Grinning against her ear, he kept singing, before kissing her cheek and tearing off to sing the chorus with the boys.

It would be up on the internet by the end of the night and, if he did it every time they sang that song, she’d reckon that by the end of the tour, there’d be compilation video.

Harry gently massaged the back of her neck as she lay face-down on the bed. “Lou’s gettin’ yeh antibiotics, love.” He paused to listen to Lou on the phone. “No she’s not allergic. Do you have a pref-” She lifted her head to glare balefully at him. “Just get her whatever has the shortest course… wh- Yeah, she’s on birth control… No not the pill, the ring.” He listened for a minute. “Yeah, of course, I know. She’s me wife. Why shouldn’t I know?”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t subscribe to toxic masc-”

“Harry!”

He looked down at Jamie. “What’s wrong, monster?”

“Can we shelve the social commentary? I just want my antibiotics and some sinus medication, baby. Please.”

He winced. “Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay, baby… shouldn’t have snapped at ya. I just feel like shit.”

He kissed the back of her head. “Lou, do you need any more info from us?”

Hanging up, he rubbed at the back of her neck again. “Cup of tea, love?”

She nodded and as he rushed off, she dove for her iPad.

Pulling up the calendar, she paled. She should’ve replaced her ring a we- nine days ago.

Shit. Fuck. Damn.

Not that she was feeling ill because she might be pregnant. She definitely had a sinus infection, it felt like she’d been hit in the face with a brick. Pregnancy didn’t cause that.

She went to the ensuite and removed the ring and sat on the toilet lid, staring down at the travertine tile.

Half of her, the part that doubted that she would make an even half-decent mother, that feared that there was a chance that being a terrible mother was more hereditary than being addicted to heroin, wanted to just insert a new ring and hope that she wasn’t already pregnant.

Harry would be none-the-wiser.

But she would know.

She sighed.

She would know that she had lied to the most important person in her life. She would know that, despite knowing how much Harry wanted to have kids, despite knowing that he’d only waited this long because he knew she was terrified of her biological family’s history creeping up on her-

That despite knowing all this, she lied to him and risked not only her health, but the health of a hypothetical maybe-child that she, if she were honest, already loved the idea of having.

She could be pregnant right now.

She cradled her stomach with shaking hands. Right now there could be a little nugget of joy hidden deep within her. A little bit of Harry mixed with a little bit of her.

She could be pregnant.

She stood and washed her hands, grabbing her phone off the nightstand.

Lou-boo… can you get a pregnancy test… too? Ha! A rhyme!

Do you think you’re pregnant? Haz said you’re on the ring.

I am, but in all the hustle and bustle and tour shit, I’ve forgotten to replace it. Hadn’t even thought about it until Haz mentioned it when he was talking to you.

I’m probs not.. But I need to check before I can start up again.

What happens if you are? Do you want me to get Plan B? Pregnancy test might not be able to tell you right now anyway.

No to Plan B. If I’m pregnant then we’re having a baby. If not then… well I’m about to have that convo with the man-child. So we’ll see.

Ok. Have fun.

“Here’s the tea, love.”

She turned and stepped against him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his collarbone.

“What’s wrong?” He pressed a kiss to her hair and wrapped himself around her. “Are yeh okay, love?”

She smiled. “I forgot to replace my ring last month.”

Nose still pressed to her hair, Harry froze. “Are yeh sayin’ yer pregnant, Jamie?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know. Asked Lou to get a pregnancy test.”

“Ok.” His chest expanded under her cheek as he took a deep breath and reached down to coax her face out of his chest. “What happens if yer pregnant?”

She smiled and kissed his chin. “If I’m pregnant, then congrats you’re gonna be a dad.”

He chuckled a little breathlessly and smiled down at her. “And if not?”

She nodded. “That’s what we have to decide. Do I go back on birth control or do we take this as a sign to just do it?”

“T’do what, love?”

“To start a family.” She smiled. “Do you want to start a family with me?”

“Do yeh want to start a family? Do yeh want to have a baby?” He kissed her. “Love, yeh know what I want, but this is yer body and if yeh don’t feel ready then that’s fine. We can wait.”

She pressed her face into his chest. “Part of me is terrified. Truly, absolutely terrified. I’m scared that I’ll be a shit mom, that I’ll be like my bio mom-”

“Yer nothing like yer biological mother, love.”

“But we don’t know that.” She cuddled in closer. “I could be just like her. I don’t really remember anythin’ about her. For all I know, I could be her spittin’ image.”

“Maybe so.” He shrugged. “Maybe yeh do look like her, but yer not a heroin addict. Yer a musician with a very successful career. Yer a married woman in a stable, supportive relationship with a man who loves the fuck outta yeh. Yeh are one of the calmest, most naturally maternal women I’ve ever met. Yeh are just like yer actual mum.”

He smiled down at her. “But if yer scared, then we’ll wait. That’s a no brainer, love. Yer not a baby factory. I’m not gonna force yeh to have my babies.”

She nodded. “Are you ready to have kids, baby?”

“I think so. I think I’ve been ready since before we got married.” He kissed her head. “One time I saw this woman at the shop. She was obviously not yeh, but she was blonde and she had a couple tattoos and she had a daughter, probably five years old...Her daughter just followed her around the fruit aisle askin’ what everythin’ was. She was so patient, answerin’ every question. I just stared. For a second, I just wanted for that to be yeh, for that little girl to be ours.”

She sniffed and tried to wipe at her eyes without him noticing and failed.

He pulled back and laid his forehead against hers. “Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to make yeh cry.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine. When was that?”

“After yer cousin’s weddin’.”

She smiled. “Really?”

He nodded. “I think seeing you with your family…” Pausing, he shrugged.

There was a knock on the door and Harry went to open it, letting Lou in.

Lou smiled and opened her arms for Jamie.

“Scared, lovely?”

Jamie smiled and hugged the taller woman. “A bit, yeah… but less so than ten minutes ago.”

Lou nodded. “Well, I picked up a couple of tests with the earliest response times I could find. Also told the pharmacist that you might be preggers and he gave me the medicine you could take if you were. Then I asked if being on tour would be bad for a pregnant woman.” She shrugged. “Thought I’d be thorough. He said that as long as your doctor says you’re healthy, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being on tour.”

“Okay.” Nodding, Jamie took a deep breath, hands on her hips.

Hugging her once more, Lou kissed her forehead. “Well, call if you need anythin’ but I’ll leave you to it, yeah?” Lou made for the door and closed it behind her after blowing them a kiss. “Have fun.”

Curled up in his lap as they waited, she smiled. “I want to be pregnant.”

“Yeah, y’sure?”

She nodded. “Yeah. The longer I think about it, the more I want it.”

The timer she set on her phone rang and she took a deep breath, holding her hand out to him.

Harry smiled and grabbed her hand, letting her lead him into the bathroom.

Yes.

An Interlude Up Next: Part XV

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