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tragedybunny · 4 months

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The Song Divine - Chapter 2

༺Summary༻

Astrid was an opera singer with a glowing future ahead of her when fate crosses her path with that of Prince Folwin, youngest son of the Emperor. The two begin what feels like a romance from tales of old. The closer the two become though, the more Astrid is pulled into the deepening conflict tearing the Imperial Family apart from within. One fateful night will shatter it entirely, leaving Astrid alone in the world and a fugitive. Just as she begins to find solace among the companions who took her in, her and Folwin are thrust back together for a grim mission that will have them pardoned if they can see it through. While the dangers they face are great, the biggest struggle might be having one another close through it all.

༺Warnings༻ Setting appropriate violence, sexual content

༺Word Count༻ 3512

༺A/N༻ Hello Lovelies! I am back for Chapter 2. Thank you for continuing to support my little story. Huge thank you to @icybluepenguin for being my support, inspiration, and someone to shake some sense into when I'm feeling down.

And to the rest of my server crew as well! You all are the best!

Also on AO3

The backstage of the Opera House pulsed with expectant energy from what could have been a small army making itself ready for tonight’s performance. From performers to musicians to the stagehands; they were all united as one force, though everyone seemed to be a little more on edge than usual. Astrid stood a bit apart from it all. Though she had been at the Opera for a couple of months, living in the great dormitories many of the young artists at court lived in, she hadn’t made a many friends.

“Are you alright Astrid, you look like you look a bit pale.” The one exception had somehow snuck up on her, causing her to jump.

“Matthias! You nearly scared me to death.” she scolded the rising star and one of tonight’s leads.

“I think stage fright will do that first.” Matthias' warm brown eyes sparkled from under a mane of unruly dark curls. “If you pass out and miss your first part, everyone is going to think you’re cursed.”

Despite a rather shaky audition and her own crushing reluctance, Astrid had somehow procured her first role outside the chorus. She’d thought of running away rather than going through with it, but thinking of defying her father was like drowning in ice water. Besides, this was what she’d been trained for her whole life, she knew nothing else. If she could just get through this first time, it had to get easier. “I promise I won’t pass out.”

Matthias grimaced and Astrid felt a creeping dread. “I hope you can keep that promise,” Matthias paused for what seemed like an eternity, while Astrid held her breath. “Prince Folwin is out there.”

The world spun for a moment and she almost broke her promise. “What?” That strange incident in the Imperial Gardens had gone unmentioned to anyone, so there was no way Matthias was teasing her.

“It’s true, he’s up there in the royal box with a number of his retinue. Not a terribly shocking development, this is an opening night, and he is quite fond of theater.”

Astrid had heard that, though the Emperor was the one who officially sponsored the Academy and Court Artists, it was Empress Hellentia and the youngest of her five sons who were most vested in Elyssia's arts and culture. Well, there were a lot of things one heard about Prince Folwin, but this one seemed most relevant to her.

So Matthias spoke true, it wasn't surprising Prince Folwin was here, and Astrid silenced a voice inside that dared suggest he could have remembered his promise. "That seems more like your and Orianna's problem," Astrid deflected.

Matthias covered his heart dramatically and looked stricken. "Such coldness, you wound me." The sounds of an orchestra warming up filled the backstage. "Better ready myself. May Andriel's touch be with you, Astrid."

"And her pleasure dwell with you." The invocation to the Goddess of love and the arts was ingrained in her from her days at the Academy. Watching Matthias walk away, Astrid lost herself for a moment in panic, thoughts of the Royal audience washed away by the sheer number of others out there. She had to succeed though, this was her whole life and if she failed she had nothing. Even worse, her father was playing tonight, and she would humiliate herself in front of him.

When at last she stepped on stage, though her part was small, her voice was clear and true. "Breathe, don't look at them," she told herself. Sweat formed on her palms, her stomach clenched, and she was sure she went pale.

But she sang, and with every note confidence grew, and by some miracle of Andriel, she was lost in the song. The audience vanished, and it was just Astrid and the music, at last.

Still, it was a relief when the final curtain call came. Orianna and Matthias were met with a standing ovation and marched off the stage triumphantly. Astrid hung back as the rest of the cast followed, letting the last of the applause resonate around her, and for the first time, she dreamed of what the future could be, instead of dreading it. Stepping back behind the curtain, an excited buzz greeted her as she pushed through the stationary crowd, looking for Matthias. She stopped cold as she found the reason for the excitement in the center of the gathered onlookers.

Prince Folwin was greeting Orianna, a bouquet of red roses had been placed in her arms and she beamed up at him. “A glorious performance as usual, Madame Orianna.”

Astrid’s pulse turned to thunder in her veins and her heart pummeled itself furiously against her ribs – she needed to get away. If he saw her, he might recall that meeting and think she had been expecting him. How foolish would she look, the nameless singer expecting a Prince to remember her? Taking a step back, she turned, looking for the quickest route through the press of bodies.

“Astrid! There you are,” his silken voice exclaimed.

Freezing, she turned back, pulling her arms around herself, making her body as small as possible as all eyes fixed on her. The transition from her fears to realizing how wrong she had been made her head spin. But soon enough she wished she had been right, as no one looked away from the scene of the flamboyant Prince hurrying over to her.

“I was worried I would miss you somehow.” His hand captured hers, despite how stiffly she responded, and he brushed his lips against it, lingering for longer than was strictly polite. “Now you can’t tell anyone I don’t keep my word. Oh,” he snapped his fingers and one of his attendants hurried to his side holding a small bouquet of purple camellias, “these are for you.”

Gingerly, she let him place them in her arms. “Thank you, Your Highness,” she said softly with a small courtesy. “You honor me.” There was nothing she wanted more than to flee, to leave behind the gaping stares and the rising tide of whispers.

“Nonsense, I’m delighted to be here. Though I do know of a way you could return my kindness.” He gave her a dazzling smile, and Astrid realized he’d never let go of her hand.

“And that is, Your Highness?” The initial bout of being overwhelmed was wearing off and her mind was starting to catch up.

Prince Folwin leaned in, so that only she could hear what he said. “Join me for a little salon I’m hosting; performers, artists, writers. You’d make quite the impression on my friends.”

That scent of floral musk she remembered washed over her and she wanted nothing more than to say yes, to let herself be swept away by the shining Prince. Still, she couldn’t quite trust him: there was nothing about her that should draw him in so, she was no one. And how would it look to the world? “I can’t. Everyone will talk.”

Folwin chuckled quietly. “They’re already talking, my dear, too late for that.”

“But they’ll all think I’m trying to get ahead by… you know… with you.” There was every chance her words were going to irritate him, and she’d never see him again, which saddened her for some reason. She knew nothing about him for certain, except his name and station, but she found herself drawn to him.

“I assure you, no one will think that. Don’t make me beg it of you.” And then he did something entirely unexpected. Prince Folwin pouted, looking genuinely put out by her refusal.

Despite her every intention to keep refusing, Astrid felt herself cracking. Why should she deny herself what she was being drawn to? As he said, everyone was already talking, She nodded her assent before she could think about it more. “When?”

Then he was all smiles again, kissing her hand once more. “Two days. I’ll send for you, my dear.” Releasing her hand, he turned away, thankfully drawing the enraptured attention of the crowd with him.

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Astrid wouldn't have believed a town the size of Abyssus could be as loud as it was. Every public space was filled with revelers, vendors, and the odd guards trying to prevent utter chaos. The Sending was in full swing and she wondered how exactly the sailors would manage in the morning after the drunken debauchery of tonight. Their little group wouldn't be around to find out though.

The inn they'd been staying at, the Broken Beast, was overflowing as a troupe of performers retold the tale of the town's founding. The four of them had their obligate tankard of ale and mingled with the locals, then they were gone. They gave a farewell to the landlord and claimed they would return after sampling the festival’s delights. They did all that with their bags obscured by a song Astrid had woven, and with eyes turned away by one of Brecken's folkweavings. The dust he had spread from his hand was a small act of magic from a natural, but not highly trained gift. The other was being an impossibly good shot, with the bow concealed at his back. Their horses were left readied in the stable, and Lyza led them through the thronging crowds to their target.

At the center of town were two buildings that had been there since Abyssus was founded, and the whole of the little town had grown up around them. The first was a humble temple to the Celestial Court. Astrid had stopped briefly yesterday during their walk, taking time to look pious, another bit of cover for them. While it was ostensibly a temple to all ten, some were featured more prominently. The Father and Mother were well represented: the statue of Elayra, the Mother, had eyes with the strangest painting effect that seemed to follow Astrid, while Fulnarsis, the Father, was simply there. Of course, there was also the iron box, veiled in black, that represented Chirax, the god who would swallow humanity if he could, dwelling in the Infernus. The scent of incense and intonation of the clergy reminded Astrid of the countless hours she’d spent in Andriel’s shrine, trying to pray away her stage fright. Now she wasn’t sure she believed in gods at all.

The second building in the square was the governor’s dwelling. Although he was technically the head of a whole province, it included miles of forest and a few hamlets even smaller than Abyssus. The post was nothing anyone from any truly great family would want, so it had been offered to a man who had risen up through the military on brute strength and iron will. Sir Thomasen, whose military career had been cut short by the loss of one arm and one eye. Tonight he was at the tavern owned by his daughter and son-in-law, reliving his glory days, and drinking to the health of Abyssus’s sailors.

And kept in his manor, for lack of anywhere better, were the taxes of the town, held all winter when the roads could become an icy graveyard. The Imperial officials would be here soon to escort them back to the Capital. They were in for a shock when it came to that.

Dancing, shouting, cavorting, and playing far drunker than they were, the four of them cut through the crowd without a second glance before sneaking their way to the side of the house and the servant’s entrance. Dark cloaks were drawn around them and the earthen tones of their clothes helped conceal them as they faded into the shadows away from the press of bodies. No servants would be here tonight, they too were given the night off for the festivities – just one clerk, and two guards at the vault.

Tallus took the lead. Lyza and Astrid tucked themselves behind the hedgerow, not even a small fence had been bothered with all the way out here. Brecken remained in the open, serving as an early warning. He stumbled and swayed, looking like a lost drunk while Tallus tested the door. All of them heard the soft creak as it opened immediately, no lock. Astrid thought the governor was either very brave or foolish. They needed no signal, all of them moving at the sound, Astrid and Lyza, sprinting from their hiding spot, and Brecken meandering. Tallus waited inside, impatiently gesturing at Brecken, who then took the small path to the door at a full-tilt run, a speed more than human.

The door shut behind them and the first part of the plan was done – they were inside in the small kitchen and pantry area used by the servants. “You’re up, Astrid,” Lyza reminded her. It wasn’t as though she needed it; this plan was one of many variations of the same.

Astrid headed through the door, up the short set of stairs into the main house. In a town this size, there was no separate building for administration, all of it was done under Sir Thomasen’s roof. Stopping in the entry hall, where the servant’s stairs emptied, she listened. No signs of life. Just across the hall lay her goal, the household office where the clerk would still be, and a door leading down to a guarded vault. Closing her eyes, and shaping her will and intent, Astrid began a slow, soft song. The clerk could likely barely hear it, but that would be enough. Instead of suspicion and confrontation, he would be drawn curiously to her.

Seconds passed and Astrid wondered for a moment if they’d miscalculated, or been found out and circumvented. Still singing, she resisted the urge to run and tell the others to abandon the job. When she could almost stand it no longer, a door creaked open.

“Who…who are you?”

He was so young, she allowed herself a moment of guilt for the possibility she was about to ruin his life. “A humble traveler, I’m lost. Can you show me the way?”

The door shut behind him, as he dazedly stepped into the hall. “Happy to help.” With glazed-over eyes, he meandered toward her, enchanted beyond hope.

The thing about commands was that proximity, and dispelling someone of their will beforehand, helped. “Then sleep, and do not wake until morn.”

The clerk's eyes closed without resistance and he collapsed into Tallus’s now - waiting arms. Behind him were Brecken and Lyza. Astrid shoved her hand into the Clerk’s high-collared overshirt and grasped for the chain around his neck. Giving it a tug, it broke away easily, and she presented a key to Lyza. It would get them to the vault room; the Governor had the vault key on him, but that was what Tallus was for.

“I’ll get posted up.” Astrid would stay as a lookout, ready to unleash a barrage of spells if they were cornered.

“We won’t be long,” Tallus said with a grin, settling the Clerk on the floor.

The three of them vanished and left Astrid alone in the darkened hall with her sleeping victim, and her thoughts. Lyza’s questions from yesterday kept coming back to her. The three of them had become family to her, and she wanted nothing more than to be with them. But this life, always in danger, always running, living to throw stones at the implacable mountain that was Elyssia - it could only end one way.

Not that her fate wasn’t already well sealed if she were caught. The sounds of a brief scuffle traveled up through the floorboards. Perhaps she could convince them to move on, or more particularly, convince Lyza. Something to bring up once they were back at the hoard. The door behind her burst open and the three tumbled out into the hall, laden with satchels full of coin.

“Let’s move,” Lyza commanded.

They moved as one, with an intimate timing built from months of operating together. Back down the servant’s stair, silent and swift, and out the door, no one the wiser. The crowd was in frenzy, dancing and shouting; not even a curious glance was spared for them. They weaved and bobbed, greeting and farewelling like all was normal. They reached the back of the inn and Astrid breathed a sigh of relief, they would be out soon enough. It was too quiet she felt, a sudden misgiving taking her. Even the horses were silent.

“Lyza!”

It was far too late, though.

“You four are really predictable.”

Lyza drew her sword, and Brecken echoed with his bow. Stepping out of the cloaking spell that had hidden them were six of the Emperor’s elite Wardens, their crimson armor almost black in the darkness. Their leader was a female with a deep burn scar down the left side of her face. Astrid swallowed hard hearing that steely voice again.

“Good to see you too, Astrid.”

The eyes of her companions darted to her for just a second, then returning to the looming conflict.

“Rayna, please just them go,” Astrid managed in a whisper, feeling as though she couldn’t breathe.

“It’s Captain Rayna now, thanks to you. And I won’t let them go, they’re part of this now too. But no one has to die, at least right. Surrender yourselves, and Emperor Maximilian will show you his mercy.”

She could see her companions do the math, and weigh their odds. Six Wardens, the most elite soldiers, against the four of them.

With a terrible cry, Lyza charged the closest one, and before she had struck, Brecken had knocked and loosed an arrow that drove itself into one's neck.

For a moment, their odds seemed fair.

Tallus was gone, almost melted into the shadows, as Astrid stepped back to sing softly, launching a bolt of force at Rayna. She'd been a determined young Warden during her days in Folwin's honor guard, and her dislike of Astrid had been painfully obvious. But she had an iron will and never backed down– she'd be the key to ending this quick.

The bolt struck an enchanted shield, and fizzled. Lyza was locked in combat with her target, and Brecken loosed a shot that went wide. Tallus seemed to have the same idea as Astrid and struck at Rayna with a dagger from behind. Seeming to sense him, she whirled with a vicious strike that sent him scrambling.

Lyza's sword found the weak point in the armor of the Warden, causing a gout of blood to gush from the joint beneath his arm. As she turned to the next, Astrid wove another song, seeking to ensnare Rayna while her attention was on Tallus. The notes were clear and high, words to bend the great essence of the universe to her whim, a song about the snares of life.

For a moment, there was sweet triumphant as Rayna's feet were bound and she crashed to the cobblestone below. Brecken moved, a viciously sharp short sword now drawn in place of his bow, heading straight for the downed Captain. Astrid turned her next spell to a Warden who was taking the fight to Tallus, shield forgone for a brutal two-handed blade that seemed to be of some black metal. Enchanted as well no doubt, and who knew what it was capable of.

The next words of her song spoke of fear, and the great sword hesitated. Tallus was merciless and ducked around the predictable swing to drive a dagger up through the throat of the Warden. At the same time, Brecken shouted as a shield knocked him sprawling, leaving him unmoving.

Astrid prepped another spell, but she began to falter. There was only so much magic you could be the conduit for, and Astrid was no great master of it. But Brecken’s life hung in the balance. Lyza had also noticed and shoved her opponent to the side to charge. Astrid’s voice was weary and quiet as she sang her first note.

“Enough!” The courtyard around them exploded in light, and Astrid felt an irresistible command to freeze in place, one that appeared to be shared by everyone else engaged in the current melee.

An old, pale man in a black cloak and another Warden were suddenly front and center, and Astrid felt true fear dig its talons into her. They’d never formally met, but she’d seen High Wizard Branagh enough from a distance.

“We don’t have time for your games, Rayna, apprehend them.” Wizards were rare, and they practiced the most complex and elusive of magics, unwoven. Their word and a channel were enough to focus their magic. Branagh leaned heavily on a great staff of willow, his particular channel. Elyssia probably held the greatest number of wizards, but many remained in a citadel in the Free Holds, pursuing a life of arcane studies. Astrid always thought they held themselves too highly above the rest of the world. “Now.”

The Wardens came free and Rayna rose, burning hatred in her eyes, but Astrid noted Branagh wasn’t spared her gaze.

“Put them in irons,” she spat at her remaining four, now five with the new arrival, Wardens. “And haul them upstairs.”

#original fiction #original fantasy #my writing #mutual pining #romance #fantasy romance #magic #court intrique #the song divine #story: the song divine

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biscuitbakerbecca · 5 months

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Weakness One Year Anniversary

On April 14th, 2023 my friend Toni and I went to see a college production of Be More Chill. We lived three hours apart at the time, and I bought the tickets on a whim even though I would have to rush to make it to show time. I loved the production, even seeing some of my old classmates as background characters. It was a great night of reconnecting with both my friend and the show.

One week later, April 21st, I posted the first chapter of a fanfic called Weakness. Originally I was going to write the fic for the Dear Evan Hansen fandom, but going to the production of Be More Chill changed my course of direction. And now one year, a lot of fan art, almost 300,000 words, and some new friends later: I am still in love with the fic.

Weakness brought a lot of firsts for me. I had never written a Be More Chill fic with the intent of telling a proper story before. I had never received fan art based on a specific fic before. I had never video chatted for over three hours just to talk about fanfic before. I had never rewritten a fic under different circumstances and contexts before. And in the past year I’ve now done all of that.

It might seem silly to celebrate the birthday of a fanfic, but Weakness was my first step into the BMC fandom proper, and even now I’m still mostly a lurker. However, if not for Weakness I wouldn’t have auditioned for BMCblr, I wouldn’t have met @h0n3yk1tt3n—spoiler alert they’re the reason most of the AU exists—and I wouldn’t have shared my brain rot with the world.

In an ideal world I would be posting the last chapter of Frailty today. Unfortunately that won’t be happening, but I do have a fanfic treat to celebrate! James Heere is my favorite struggling dad, to the point that I’ve taken him and made his own character—origin story to boot. I hope you enjoy the one shot all about the man behind the bitchy rich kid, and have enjoyed my past year of writing. Have a wonderful day/night, thank you for reading!

#be more chill #bmc #weakness au #fragility au #frailty au

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mychaotic-academia · 1 year

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I’ve never posted any “about me” stuff so here’s some random me-based facts if anyone was curious!

I am 27 going on 28 (my birthday is October 21st)

I’m married to the love of my life, Vee, and she and I met when I was 18 and she was 21. I auditioned for her A Capella group in college and she fell in love instantly (the funny part is I was just thinking “I hope this girl lets me into her A Capella group” but I wasn’t far behind)

I have a cat named Bunny that I’m obsessed with. She’s a calico short hair and I do sometimes post pics! I tag them #Bunny

I work as a paraeducator in a high school, which basically means I help students with IEPs and such in classrooms. Right now I work in a classroom for students returning to school after school avoidance or hospitalizations. I love my job!

I’m in graduate school to get my Special Education degree so I can become a Special Ed teacher. I love being in classes again and I’m excited for the new step in my career!

I majored in Psychology in my Undergrad, and the 4 years I spent at University were amazing! I was originally going to be an adjustment counselor, but changed my mind.

I’m a creative person, and I write (poems, stories, novel length projects that never come to be), paint, play music, and sing. I sometimes post some of my creative content here too!

I’ve been a voracious reader since I was old enough to read. Before that my Dad read to me every night before bed. We kept that up through sometime in Middle School as we read all the Harry Potter novels, most as they were coming out (I’m old!)

I’m a pagan and a not quite professional but working on it psychic. I love doing readings for folks so ask away! I’m working on getting fluent enough to pick up a gig somewhere as a reader.

My parents are both writers. My mom has a published book of poetry and is published fairly widely for her poetry. My dad has self published two novels (he didn’t want to deal with getting a publishing deal but his books are good!)

I’m majorly into aesthetics and general awe. I see beauty everywhere and I’m constantly amazed by the world. My theory is that I’m a brand new soul and so everything is exciting to me, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

My old blog (if I follow you it is unfortunately still my “main”, nullnvoyd) was a BPD blog. I deleted everything and pretty much deactivated it as far as I could because it wasn’t helping. I’ve struggled with mental health since I was a kid, but am in a very good place right now, which feels amazing.

I was diagnosed with ADHD a couple of years ago and it has explained so much!

I live in Massachusetts and am watching the trees for any signs of leaves turning because it truly is a marvel to live in New England in the Fall.

I was born in Newfoundland Canada. My parents grew up there. In the early-mid 90s (when I was born) the fishery crashed and Newfoundland had unemployment of around 30+%. My dad got a job down here because he was, at the time, one of the few people who could do what he does with computers. I’m still only a Canadian citizen, mainly because its expensive to become a citizen in the US. I want to be a citizen for the next election though so I’ll have to prioritize it.

I used to own a crystal shop, but its down for now because I’m working and in school full time.

I was on Tumblr back in the day, when it was at the height of its popularity. I think it was 2011 or 2012 when I made my first account. Crazy how time flies once you leave public education and start getting older.

I love makeup and fashion, and I was self conscious about it for a long time because it didn’t feel like an “intellectual” pursuit, but that was completely a misconception. They are forms of art!

So thats a bit about me! Theres more, I’m sure, because people always contain untold multitudes, but those are what I could think of on half a cup of coffee on a Sunday morning.

#me #about me #about myself #dark academia #chaotic academia #academia #academia aesthetic #aesthetic #booklr #books #chaotic academic aesthetic #dark academic aesthetic #reading

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28whitepeonies · 2 years

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Louis Tomlinson on his new album, struggling with fame and a One Direction reunion

The boyband star on his love of rock music, finding his own voice outside of One Direction, losing close family and fame's strangest moments. (By Neil McCormick @ The Telegraph)

“Do you mind if I smoke?” asks Louis Tomlinson, tapping cigarette ash into an empty Coke bottle. “The modern man smokes a vape, apparently. But I still smoke ciggies. I’m a judgemental fucker, and I hate vapers.”

He'd kidding, but the former One Direction boyband star certainly does like a cigarette, getting through half a dozen during an hour-long encounter in a hotel boardroom that reeks of stale tobacco. “Maybe I drink too much for a singer. Maybe I smoke too much for a singer. But it can be quite demanding, this life. So, for me to have those little vices, it’s important.”

Tomlinson is getting ready for the release this week of his second solo album, Faith in The Future. He seems both nervous and excited. “The lows are lower in a solo career, but the highs are higher,” he suggests. “Because you are not one of 4 or 5 anymore, you have to take full responsibility for everything, so it hits you at both ends.”

Scruffily unshaven, in gym wear and trainers, the 30-year-old hops up to open a window, while chatting away in a friendly and engaged manner. “I never really chose this life,” he insists, with a strong Doncaster accent (though he lives in Hertfordshire now). “I auditioned for X Factor and crossed me fingers. And now, here I am.”

In 2010, at the age of 18, Tomlinson and four other young hopefuls (Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Liam Payne and Zayn Malik) were assembled into a boyband mentored by entertainment impresario Simon Cowell. Although they didn’t win the talent show, their impish appeal saw them rise to become the most successful manufactured group of the modern era, achieving levels of fan mania comparable to the early days of The Beatles.

Together for five frenzied years, 1D have scored four number one albums, sold more than 200 million records worldwide, notched up over 21 billion streams, won seven BRIT awards and their final tour in 2015 grossed over $200 million (£173 million) in revenue. For a time, Tomlinson’s floppy fringe adorned teenage bedrooms all over the planet. There was considerable hysteria when 1D said they were taking a “hiatus”, citing exhaustion.

A reluctant solo artist: Louis Tomlinson (centre) was upset with One Direction's decision to separate in 2016

Tomlinson was the oldest member (two years Styles’s senior) with the shakiest voice but adored by fans for his genuine smile, wacky fashions and undisguised pleasure at being part of the gang. Styles had a cheeky swagger, Malik was the sensuous R&B singer, Horan the folkie-next-door, whilst Payne was a cocky Jack the lad (whose solo career has been a bit of a washout). As time went by, Tomlinson shed insecurities to get more involved in songwriting, helping push 1D’s pop rock side.

Faith in the Future (out on Friday) dials up the guitars, building on his chart-topping 2020 solo debut album Walls, inspired by Britpop and indie, the music of his pre-fame youth. “I used to spend all my Friday nights in this place called Priory, it was fucking unbelievable: £10 all you can drink! That’s been banned now. It was in that bar where I fell in love with guitar music.”

Although he retains a fondness for a big chorus, it is not a sound you would particularly associate with 1D. “I don’t relate to right-down-the-middle pop,” he admits. “But I wouldn’t say that was dumbed down in One Direction. Maybe I dumbed it down myself. Maybe I assumed I couldn’t be exactly who I was.”

Tomlinson was the last of the five members to release an album, and reveals that he was a reluctant solo artist, upset by the band’s decision to separate at the height of their world-beating success in 2016.

“It was a bit daunting. I’d just got to a stage where I really started to feel like I found my rhythm, I was enjoying songwriting, I felt like I finally worked out where I am in that band. And then it’s like: ‘Okay, well, now we’re going on a break.’ So there was a bit of petulance from my end, I was frustrated.”

He admits that he has felt competitive with his former bandmates and been jealous of Styles’s enormous solo success.

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me at first. Only ’cos I didn’t know where to place myself, and really my only point of reference was other members of the band. But it’s not surprising to me that Harry's the most commercially successful because he really fits the mould of a modern star.

"He’s not just doing music, he’s got film as well, and the (stadium) tour he’s done is unbelievable. It took me a while to work out where I stand. But I look on Harry like a brother, man. I have a lot of pride for what he’s doing.”

He says band members are quietly supportive of each other. “I’m sure the lads will text me when the album comes out, we check in on each other, we’re good like that. I bumped into Niall (Horan) at Glastonbury, and even though we hadn’t spoken all year, it was like absolutely no time had passed. Because we've lived through such experiences together in One Direction, this bond that we have is for life.”

Louis Tomlinson with his mother Johannah Deakin who died of leukaemia in 2016

Tomlinson has had other issues to focus on. In 2016, his mother Johannah Deakin, a midwife, died from leukaemia, aged 43. His parents separated when he was a child, and Tomlinson is estranged from his father, a hotel manager. He has seven younger half-siblings, one of whom, Félicité Tomlinson, died of an accidental drug overdose in 2019.

“I’m coping good, man,” he says. “I’m a glass half-full person because what’s the alternative? I’m not saying that there have not been some dark days, because there have. But I had a really lovely upbringing, and my mum was as good as gold.

“Even though she’s not here anymore, I wouldn’t want her to feel guilty for what happened. She wouldn’t want that to define my life and my happiness.”

He also feels a sense of responsibility to his family. “I’m the oldest of all my siblings, and I knew that I had to put on a brave face.” Nonetheless, Tomlinson, who is also father to a five-year-old son, whom he shares with his ex-girlfriend, confesses wariness when it comes to talking about it. “It carries its own weight emotionally and I’m wanting to escape that because I don’t want people fucking feeling sorry for me.”

He addressed grief on 2019 single Two of Us, but has consciously sought out more upbeat subject matter for Faith in the Future, on songs including The Greatest, Lucky Again, Out of My System and mercurial indie rocker Silver Tongues.

“I have become a bit of a soundboard for people’s grief, so I’m kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place. Because if I can help other people just from a little conversation about my own individual experience, that’s great, I really want to be there to help. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a burden.”

Tomlinson has been thoroughly enjoying being back on the road. “Performing live was always my favourite thing. I’ve had to build it back up, because I’ve never toured on my own, I had to relearn my craft and what the show needed. So it’s not as if I went into small theatres and thought, I used to play Wembley stadium, I’ve fucking failed! I was having too much fun.”

He jokes about not even noticing if there has been any change in the level of luxury as he has shifted from one of the biggest bands in the world to a solo artist determined to prove himself.

“Hotel rooms can be kind of lonely when you’re moving all the time, so it doesn’t matter how luxurious it is. I sleep on the tourbus, cause that’s where my band are, so its really social. It’s a fucking lovely tourbus!” Next year he will be back onboard, touring Britain’s arenas. “It’s all going the right way, and I’m thankful to be here, doing what I love. It doesn’t feel as manic as it did in One Direction, but I still get recognised everywhere I go, so not much has changed.”

Like many stars, he’s conflicted about fame. “It’s something I have struggled to deal with over the years. If I go to the pub with me mates and we’re having a drink and being social, it doesn’t matter if just one person stops and is like, ‘Oh it’s Louis, can we have a picture?’ It takes me outside of that normality. Just one photo can kind of bug me for the next half hour. But I’m still ambitious, and if that means raising the temperature (of fame) again, it’s a little bit daunting, but that’s the life.”

There have been some exceedingly odd aspects to being a boyband superstar. A strand of online fan fiction imagined a passionate affair between Tomlinson and Styles, which was subsequently depicted in a graphic, animated sequence on hit HBO series Euphoria. Another piece of 1D fanfiction is being adapted for forthcoming movie The Idea of You, starring Anne Hathaway as an older woman having an affair with a boyband star.

“It’s weird, all that shit,” tuts Tomlinson, disapprovingly. “But there’s not much you can do about it. I’d rather they didn’t, like, but it is what it is. I won’t be watching it.”

Tomlinson is excited about his new music, raving “I can imagine some of these songs being on albums by bands I would have listened to as a kid. It took me a second to find my feet after One Direction, and realise I need to be brave enough to embrace what I love.”

He says he thinks about success differently now. “Its all about musical fulfilment. When you’re one of four or five, it's hard to express yourself as an individual. This music is who I am.”

He still expects One Direction to eventually reunite. “When you look at it on paper, it’s like, ‘How the fuck’s it all gonna fit back together?’ We’re all making very different music, doing our own thing, all busy all the time. So I don’t see anything happening for at least another 10 years, but you never know. It looks pretty jumbled. But I think there is a world where it all kind of fits together.”

#here it is #the full article #for obvious reasons I’m not providing a link #no edits obv #well that’s not true #I have now edited the swear words back in #because the censoring was driving me demented #Louis Tomlinson #I’m posting this mainly because it’s from #the telegraph #and I’d like to do as much as possible to stop people posting that paper #it’s quite long #faith in the future #09 November 2022 #Neil McCormick

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louisupdates · 2 years

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Louis Tomlinson on his new album, struggling with fame and a One Direction reunion

The boyband star on his love of rock music, finding his own voice outside of One Direction, losing close family and fame's strangest moments

BY NEIL MCCORMICK (9.11.22)

He's kidding, but the former One Direction boyband star certainly does like a cigarette, getting through half a dozen during an hour-long encounter in a hotel boardroom that reeks of stale tobacco. “Maybe I drink too much for a singer. Maybe I smoke too much for a singer. But it can be quite demanding, this life. So, for me to have those little vices, it’s important.”

Tomlinson was the oldest member (two years Styles’s senior) with the shakiest voice but adored by fans for his genuine smile, wacky fashions and undisguised pleasure at being part of the gang. Styles had a cheeky swagger, Malik was the sensuous R&B singer, Horan the folkie-next-door, whilst Payne was a cocky Jack the Lad (whose solo career has been a bit of a washout). As time went by, Tomlinson shed insecurities to get more involved in songwriting, helping push 1D’s pop rock side.

Faith in the Future (out on Friday) dials up the guitars, building on his chart-topping 2020 solo debut album Walls, inspired by Britpop and indie, the music of his pre-fame youth. “I used to spend all my Friday nights in this place called Priory, it was f---ing unbelievable: £10 all you can drink! That’s been banned now. It was in that bar where I fell in love with guitar music.”

He admits that he has felt competitive with his former bandmates and been jealous of Styles’s enormous solo success.

“Even though she’s not here anymore, I wouldn’t want her to feel guilty for what happened. She wouldn’t want that to define my life and my happiness.”

He jokes about not even noticing if there has been any change in the level of luxury as he has shifted from one of the biggest bands in the world to a solo artist determined to prove himself.

“Hotel rooms can be kind of lonely when you’re moving all the time, so it doesn’t matter how luxurious it is. I sleep on the tourbus, cause that’s where my band are, so its really social. It’s a f---ing lovely tourbus!” Next year he will be back onboard, touring Britain’s arenas. “It’s all going the right way, and I’m thankful to be here, doing what I love. It doesn’t feel as manic as it did in One Direction, but I still get recognised everywhere I go, so not much has changed.”

“It’s weird, all that s---,” tuts Tomlinson, disapprovingly. “But there’s not much you can do about it. I’d rather they didn’t, like, but it is what it is. I won’t be watching it.”

He says he thinks about success differently now. “Its all about musical fulfilment. When you’re one of four or five, it's hard to express yourself as an individual. This music is who I am.”

He still expects One Direction to eventually reunite. “When you look at it on paper, it’s like, ‘How the f---’s it all gonna fit back together?’ We’re all making very different music, doing our own thing, all busy all the time. So I don’t see anything happening for at least another 10 years, but you never know. It looks pretty jumbled. But I think there is a world where it all kind of fits together.”

Full article

#louis press #telegraph #neil mccormick #9 november 2022 #sorry just catching up

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evelyne-am · 2 years

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16 March 2023–3. Another day that I had not slept much , Had an emotional night in my personal life too, (it wasn’t a coincidence) and no I didn’t finish my homewor though I knew exactly which part I needed to focus on from the script.

I did reach sort of at the time. it was a very different kind of day it was really hot. Today the lack of sleep got to me in the first round as well. The bane of my existence ever since I started sirs workshop a month ago has been this exercise that pushes all my buttons; it’s a running exercise with full surroundings awareness both things that I lack horribly in. Ever since these rehearsals have started I’ve realised that despite the fact that I can walk for miles and miles my pace is very slow, my stamina is very little and I don’t run well at all. Add to that my absolute lack of awareness of my surroundings, and very bad concentration. Today with the heat and the third day of lack of sleep I could not keep up much. I was really struggling. During the break I did go up to the roof. The others don’t really go out, they hang around with their lines and their Tiffins, one of the boys open Sir’s picnic basket and cuts a guava for all of us every day, another person brings a box of boiled eggs. But I need my fresh air. I have to go out Despite the fact that I do wanna stay connected to the gang. So I spend a few minutes of the break upstairs and then come back down to say hi hello to everyone, I was actually ravenous that day and ended up having bread and jelly from Sir’s picnic basket as well as my orange and boiled egg. Today Sir had a long chat with us and told us that he is aware that he is a man and may not understand a woman’s story as well as we would, and he told us that he invites us to be part of creating this narrative in theatre, he has told him to take our’questions that we cannot ask him (Possibly about bodies of rape,) but he has very implied he has succumbed to the fact that men will never understand this crime or the way a woman feels about this crime during and after the fact. M and us bonded later on the fact that no matter who came from where me, it is yes all women.

Our second half was pretty decent, despite the fact that We are definitely not at Audition level,however we were given a lot of pointers and we worked on them and he and M were very happy that we started to take his notes and apply them during rehearsal. When we HurselMI take a small detour in the festival downstairs and bought myself a little basket and an orna. I was in a good mood as those of you on instagram saw. Though I feel like I know nothing, I do feel like I am learning.

I had to pop out of my 71 world and do some “AM” stuff- had a circle singing session tho, (not doing concerts anymore) - so more of a healing situation. Also spent a little time with my family. i’m still super behind admin work for other things, and I just want to have a little space for myself, but it’s not going to happen for awhile due to the circumstances. Maybe after Ramadan I will. As I was settling in to sleep early because I was absolutely knackered, I knocked over a very expensive Candle I bought a few months ago and I wanted to light today and cut my right thumb on the glass almost half intentionally when I was Pulling with a candle from the glass. A second bandage comes on me, and I laugh it off as I pass out, more of that on day four.

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allthewelps · 2 months

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Promise

August 6, 2024 11:59PM

Jesus it's been a while since I posted. 2019? Didn't even know how good we had it. No pandemic. No global crisis what seems to be every two-ish months? But this isn't about that. This is about me.

I graduated! Only took 10 years. (on and off, not accumalative. but college journey took from 2012-2024. wait thats 12 years? well shit.)

Took a speech class cuz transfers dont always transfer your credits. I used it as more of a poetry class. Here's something I wrote for it.

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I am a failure. In about one year's time, I will be getting my bachelor's degree in business administration. This would be considered a success by many people, but what they don't know is that it took me 10 years to achieve it.

I am a failure. I showed great talent. my mentors told me I showed promise of great musician. I have even achieved the great honor to audition to the Juilliard School of Music. I have not practiced an instrument in 3 years.

I am a failure. My own self-doubt had me give up on many things that were possible. I kept lying to myself, saying that I will make it through Though I didn’t try to make a change

I am a failure. I have broken friendships and bonds that were considered lifelong. But looking within, I find that those bonds had to be broken if I wanted to break free from the chains of past.

I am a failure. I prioritized work over study but because of that I was able to discover something inside me. The understanding that experience is not just some buzz word. But something of real value

I am a failure. But by failing in all aspects of life, I now know how to pick myself up. I have the experience to know how to look forward.

I am a failure. But what is success without failure? Because I have failed, I know what it is like to struggle I now know how to avoid struggle.

I am a failure. I realized I was waiting for a miracle. For success to be handed to me on a silver platter. That success was supposed to be easy.

I am a failure. I would not be the person I am today without my failures. I no longer let my failure define me. I reflected. I changed. I began to try.

I am a failure. By now I have said that word so many times that it has become numb. That is what failure felt like to me. I grew accustomed to it.

I am a failure. It has taken me a long time to change my failures into lessons. Before my biggest fear was failure. Now, failure is just part of the process to success

I am a failure. I hope that I have said failure so many times that it has become numb to you too. Know that success without failure is just luck.

I am proud to be a failure. Without it, there would be no reason for success.

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Pretty hot, huh. I guess I still got my writing chops.

Finally figured out what I want to do with my life. The end goal is to be a community manager. In a nerd space, I'm not picky. Table top, video games, esports. Anywhere I could grow and maintain a healthy community. I'm currently a community organizer! For D&D! I've met so many wonderful people here in LA because of that game. Some great friends that I truly thought I would never make.

There's also been my dating life. Which is... Not so great? I've dated a handful of girls here. All of them ending with no contact. Except one. Girl named Rain. We still have feelings for each other even though we stopped dating each other for many reason. Maybe I'll update this blog with that. Maybe 6 years later.

Things are looking good for me. All the seeds have finally sprouted. Los Angeles, did in fact, take care of me. I hope it continues to do so.

There's color in my nights now.

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beaisdifferent · 5 months

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Contradiction

Back before I had a diagnoses, back before I even had a suspicion I was on the spectrum, I was walking to a math theory class in my community college. During my first semester there, I went on a whim to see the school��s theater preform She Loves Me, and I fell in love with theater all over again, in a way I hadn’t since my local dance school put on Annie (I played one of the orphans, July). And as I was watching my peers sing and dance and act out what remains one of my favorite stage performances to this day, I had the though: I could do this. Maybe I should have auditioned. So when I was walking to class and saw an audition notice for the next play, a non-musical called She Kills Monsters, I decided I would audition.

Of course I chickened out and the audition date came and went.

But I had started attending the improv classes in between my own schoolwork, and I knew the head of the performing arts department, a ridiculously kind woman. So when I wandered into the theater on the first official reading after casting decisions were said and done, and took a swing to see if I could still be a part of things somehow, the director and department head said they could find a spot for me in the ensemble of monsters, I just had to do a quick audition with a monologue I prepared. We stepped aside before the rehearsal started, and I stood before them, giving the first audition I had since I was a child.

And I was so nervous as they watched me, tears rolled down my cheeks as I monologed.

Luckly, the piece was about a breakup, so it just made me look like a better actress than I was.

They said they could definitely find space for me in the ensemble, and while I was exhausted by the very vulnerable experience of an audition, I was so excited to begin my work as a monster. They sat us all in a circle so the primary cast could do the initial read through of the book and we could all learn the story. One of the casted actresses couldn’t attend the first night, so they gave me her book and asked me to read for her part for the evening. The part of the antagonist, a bitchy cheerleader who became a bitchy succubus in this Dungeons and Dragons themed fantasy. I was flattered that, as I read, the director nodded her head thoughtfully. I was doing well! I didn’t ruin all my chances at this fun by missing the actual auditions.

A few days later, when rehearsals official began, I learned that I would be playing a few nameless monsters on stage long enough to be slayed…and Evil Tina, the bitchy cheerleader/succubus. The actress initially cast dropped from the production and I was dropped in her place instead. I was terrified and thrilled. It wasn’t really my first play, I had been the cheshire cat in a bootleg production of Alice in Wonderland a few years prior, but this was technically a college production that I was thrown into at random, and I had never played a bad guy before.

When I joined the show, it wasn’t just because I thought it would be fun. I’d joined because I was struggling with significant social anxiety, and decided that throwing myself straight into the fire, going as hard into being seen and known as I could get, would be my treatment. And as I went along, I realized something. I was actually rather good at it.

I didn’t get what I call Hollywood autism, in that I’m not a savant and I despise math in a way that only years of bad teaching can do. But I’m really good at memorizing blocks of text. I was the first person off book, something the director called attention to and mortified me because any kind of attention mortified me, but it was something I could be proud of. And even know I think I am a decent actress. And it’s not because of some innate artistic skill, I wasn’t a star waiting to be discovered. I would realize later with better understanding, that I already had years of practice.

I had spent my life practicing blending in with people, being convincing in saying things I didn’t feel or managing the tone and body language of my responses to mirror those around me and mask my own differentness. Now I was just doing that for fun. I really don’t want to blow my own horn, I’m not trying to hail myself as some amazing actress above my peers. But I felt like I had a leg up on the stage, and could really feel natural actors vs awkward ones. Some people read their lines like they were trying so hard to act, while other’s just said what they’re character was supposed to say in the way they were meant to say it based on the context of the situation and nature of the character they were playing. There was such a difference, and I could find it. Autism is not my superpower, much of the time it feels like an inconvenience to manage, but here it did feel something like a superpower. And it only got better.

I adore reading lines. It’s my favorite part of the whole thing. If pressed, I would get rid of the performance nights and only do rehearsals—In fact I might prefer it that way. And like everything else, it took me a little while to figure out why. It was practice. I struggle in conversation. I think in pictures, and it can be hard to translate those pictures into fluent spoken words, and to do it the “right way” so I can connect with my peers and be an accepted member of the herd. Running lines, playing different characters in different scenarios, gave me the chance to play around with back and forth dialogue, with different characters and different means of expression. It felt like real connection with my line partner, especially when they could really commit to their role, all the while I stood behind the safety of a character who was not really me with rules of how this conversation would go, clearly defined expectations. A desperate and lonely autistic young woman thrived in a space of performance and spotlight, it felt like such a contradiction of nature. But it was perfect. I didn’t have to be me for a while. I was Tina, or Kira, or Judith, or Monster #4. And whatever I did right or wrong during that time wasn’t me. I could drop into a character and find the thrill of being good at something, a feeling that was largely alien to me until then.

I haven’t done a play in years now, adult life doesn’t leave a lot of time or energy for 12 hours of rehearsal every week, but I always think on it fondly and would return given the chance. In many ways that black box theater raised me into the woman I am today. Some of my fellow actors remain my best friends today, and they first show we did together has kicked off a Dungeons and Dragons group that’s been going on for 6 years now. I’m so grateful I was given that chance for a last minute audition, and so happy I took the swing that has helped me in so many ways all these years later. I raise my glass to the contradiction of anxiety, autism, and the performing arts.

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theskybluesky · 9 months

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I had dinner with some friends yesterday. They were friends I used to have so much fun dancing with. I consider them to be better dancers than me, and I have always admired them. But yesterday, I realised that time is not always kind to good people.

Out of the five of us, I was the only one who was employed. One just got laid off, one left an audit job and wanted to try her luck looking for a job in another country, one had failed his core uni modules and had to retake a whole year of classes and one was lost after dropping out of her masters.

Most of the time, when people ask me how my job is like, I would just tell the truth. My job makes me cry. It’s the kind of job that people ask me not to take for granted. A stable job with good benefits, what could be so bad about it? But there are certain circumstances that others will never be able to understand from the outside.

For me, it’s not the work that’s the problem. I can say that confidently because though I’ve been doing the same job scope in two teams, my experiences have been so different. I never used to cry about work. It was mundane, tedious but never miserable. What caused the change? Definitely the people around me.

You never know how important kindness is until you’re surrounded by a bunch of heartless corporate zombies who don’t understand the value of kindness. Working for a boss who is cruel makes you feel like all the work you do has no greater purpose. Everything is meaningless, because I don’t want to serve a boss who is selfish. I don’t want to contribute to the success of a department who never prioritises its own people.

It’s difficult to dim the light within me. I want to do better everyday. But every morning when I wake up now, I feel like I have to use all the light within me just to prevent myself from breaking down.

That’s the reality.

But not many people can accept the reality that everyone has their own unique battles and struggles. There is no utopia in this world, no place where we can confidently say we want to stay forever in. Yet sometimes people just need the hope that there’s a better life out there.

So when my friends looked to me yesterday night for advice, their eyes were eager with hope. All I could do was smile. When they said ‘Jess, you’re doing the best among us all’, I felt a pain in my chest and my eyes almost teared. I didn’t want to make them feel small, yet I wanted them to stay optimistic that they would find a better path for themselves soon.

I replied: ‘My work is just boring corporate work, but at least the benefits are good enough to make the work worthwhile.’

‘Next month there will be many people leaving because of the bonus cycle, you all should definitely apply if you want to work in a bank!’

The truth is, I don’t wish my life on any of them. But if they think that my life looks better on the outside, then who am I to take this for granted?

It’s true. I could be worse off. I could be better off. Life is on a spectrum, but we shouldn’t judge where anyone stands on this spectrum because we never truly know how they feel on the inside.

When I looked at my friends, I was reminded of all our precious memories in the dance studio. The times when we danced until midnight without a care. I remember us walking under the stars to buy bubble tea on the way home after dancing. If utopia existed, then I would say moments like those brought me the closest to it.

If I could go back to those times, I would hold my friends closer and tell our younger selves that these are the times that we would never relive and that we should treasure forever.

#Spotify

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deepwithintheinkwellcomicseries · 1 year

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Deal with the Ink Demon

Wont lie, the final background in this one took me the longest because of all the little details <XD But here we are! The start of something new & exciting~

To give you some simple context for where this all starts.

Maddie was struggling with rent & herself & her older sister feed. Charline had recently lost her job due to walking out. Tired of the sexual harassments she was getting at her work place. Maddie was now stressed than ever. Pulling extra hours just to pay rent. Even it was becoming to much for her. While walking home from work on night, she stumbles across a flier of a local cartoon studio looking for a young female actress to be apart of there crew. Maddie grew up around a mother who was a very well know star in the pictures. So, she figured she should give it a shot. What had she got to lose. While the Sillyvision crew, the three main casts of the show, went through one after the other & none of them seemed pleased. Mostly the star of the show himself, Bendy. But as soon as Maddie walked on the stage, his attention focused on her. While Maddie didn’t really like to brag about it, she had the singing voice that captured the groups full attention. Finally! Someone who all three could agree upon. Though, other than her lovely singing voice, Bendy was more intrigued by....her looks in general. Landing the job, Maddie was excited to head back home & tell her sister all about it. But, tragedy struck that night when she came back to there small little apartment. As Maddie walked in to give sister the good news, she found her laying in there now broken glass top coffee table. Stabbed in her chest, with glass shards piercing her body. Maddie quickly ran over to her, but unknown to her, the robber who had stabbed her was still there. Lurking in the shadows, he lunged out at Maddie & tried to attack her as well. Missing every slash he swung. As she went to throw a punch at him, she noticed he was standing still, rapidly growing old as he perished into dust before her eyes. When she looked back up, there was the familiar ink demon himself. Only now, he was showing the true side of him. He had followed her home after she was finished with her audition. Curious to see what kind of run down place she lived him. He was happy he did. Maddie was devastated at this point. She had lost the only family she had left. She had no where else to go. Bendy seeing that she was out of it, he thought he could do her a favor. He made the offer that he could bring her sister back, but she in return, would have to sell her soul to him. Maddie was hesitant at first. She knew demons where tricky. She did want Charline back, but didn’t need him playing any games on her. So, she put it to him plain & simple. She would sell her soul to him. But! Charline’s soul would belong to her & no one else when it came back to her. She wouldn’t end up in hell for this & she wouldn’t remember a thing about this night. Of course, Bendy was surprised by this. This chick was smarter than she looked. And he....he LOVED it~ More is to come from this.

Trust me. I am only getting started >:3c

#iridescentinkangel #comic series #Deep within the Ink Well #AU story #mini comic series #bendy and the ink machine #toons #classic cartoons #bendy the dancing devil #Maddie Bellstine #Charline Bellstine

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breezyrainybaby · 1 year

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also 9 Mar 2022

A small talk to myself

I’m thinking of taking a break from everything for a while, and I’m thinking of you.

I kinda had a breakdown last Tet lol. Mom and dad and grandma and grandad kept complaining about how late I was staying at night and how bad the light was regarding my working conditions (at their home). Bruh they were sooo annoying that I couldn’t hold back one or two teardrops, because ya already know how much of a mess our thoughts are and how silent we can keep until it’s too late not to burst out. Other than that, mom and dad and grandma and grandad were very lovely and family love was great, but I strongly recommend staying home no longer than a couple of weeks to avoid conflicts and stress lol.

I miss us a lot. Bro your fashion was the worst seriously. We didn’t have a lot money, or it might have been the lack of access to the right supplies, or the courage to go out there to the shops and be like “Miss, how much are those pair of trousers?”. We relied on mom for a living, and would wear whichever she bought. To be honest I prefer to be dead than to wear our style back then.

I wonder if I would have a crush on you if I were not you. I doubt that. Some girl that is not so pretty, and a bit pretentious. Perhaps it’s because I’ve got to understand you too well to love you. I could be proud of our unlike-anybody-else type of personality, but how would I ever fall in love with you?

And hey guess what, you would change a lot as you grow up, but not that much. You would hate the same people you hated, despite how hard you have tried to find a reason behind their actions and to force yourself not to judge. You would always thought you’re special and the world kinda needs a living thing like you, though in fact, the only people that think so that often, are mom and dad. You are shy, and find it hard to express yourself to the world, well, less than in your teenage time, as you have grown comfortable with your flaws somehow, but the struggle would still be real. You feel lonesome sometimes, if not all the time, as the core trait to your existence is being insecure.

I miss us a lot.

You wouldn’t believe this, but I do auditing. Bet you’re gonna be like “Bruh?” because me, too – even I still can’t believe this is happening. Wtf is accounting and what does it have to do with our 24/7 obsessions? Such a weird dilemma it is that in the most pessimistic scenarios, I still appreciate what I am doing in this place and these people around me wholeheartedly.

The thing is it’s not about how your life would change for the better and how accomplished you could be in the future. You are a human being not with a head full of dreams, but rather with lots of unrealistic and unqualified fantasizes.

The moment you breathe, you live, you become what you are, and that’s it.

Like shaking uncontrollably when delivering a 2-minute presentation. Wandering through Vũng Tàu. Suffering through the thesis semester. Playing with the kids in the English center where you used to be a teaching assistant. Feeling ugly. Studying and being indulged in a subject you love for hours in high school. Feeling uncertain and lost in college. Smelling the freshness of the air while seeing the city sparkling in the bright sunlight. Listening to some songs and watching some movies - nothing was real but the experience. End of the day, getting on the bus, floating in the ocean of thoughts like, “How could I ever be a part of this hustling, bustling city?”, and just heading home. All the things that have ever happened and gone without your notice, were the only things that were real.

Why are we realizing this just now?

Btw I don’t know why but I’m listening to some Christmas songs in the middle of February when the peak season is at its peak, after a good cry. Yay. Santa Claus is coming to town~

#my dumb writings

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pjotvshownews · 2 years

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April 16th blog update from Rick Riordan:

“[...] I also don’t have to be on Twitter to anticipate what questions you are probably asking.

Like for instance: When are we announcing Annabeth and Grover, and can it be right now? Answer: Soon. And no, it cannot be right now. As I said before, I think we’re very close to having everything wrapped up for our main trio, but there are numerous levels of approvals to get and deals to close before we can announce anything. Things are starting to move into high gear, though, since we begin filming in June, so we are probably talking weeks, not months, before we can share more news. As always, I need to warn you that this is ONLY my personal guess. What I can say is that the production team is united and excited about where the casting decisions are heading, and we are receiving excellent support from our studio and network partners.

Other questions I bet you are asking: Are we going to make Walker dye his hair black? Answer: We have had zero conversations about this. Personally, I think this is a non-issue. For me, finding the right actors has never been about hair color, eye color, skin color, or any other single physical trait, even if they were described a certain way in the books. As many of you know, I flubbed such details myself several times in the series. Thalia’s eyes changed from green to blue. Oops! Annabeth’s hair was curly and then it was straight. Nico was described as olive-skinned, then later as pale. Blackjack even changed from a mare to a stallion over the course of two books. Whelp, not sure what happened there, but too late now! If I may invoke the Movies That Shall Not Be Watched, I know a lot of you cared deeply and were unhappy when Annabeth turned out to be a brunette rather than blonde, but for me, that was never the main issue. What mattered were that those actors, as talented and wonderful as they are, were WAY too old for the parts as I wrote them, and their age was central to the plot. What I want to see are age-appropriate actors who can embody the personalities of the characters, nail their voices and their sense of humor, and make you believe: “Yes, that is Percy. That is Grover. That is Annabeth,” even if they’re not exactly how the characters were described physically in the books. Again, that’s just my personal opinion and my approach. So blond Percy? Hey, why not? IMO Walker is awesome just as he is. He is perfect for the role. The same will be true for our other characters when I can announce them.

You are asking: What about the other casting choices? Those are well underway. We are reviewing a flood of audition tapes as we speak for all parts. And yes, I am involved in every decision. I have seen dozens of Sally Jacksons at this point, and even more Mrs. Dodds . . . all wonderfully sinister. In fact, I may or may not have had nightmares about math teacher Furies last night….

Will there be open casting calls for (fill in the character you wish you could be)? As I’ve said before, I very much doubt it. There are so many great actors out there who are looking for work and who have already made the commitment to devote their lives to acting, have put in years of training, have struggled to get agents and get parts — we have no shortage of great, diverse options. Acting is hard. Getting good at it takes time, patience and tons of unglamorous difficult work. Also, it’s simply not practical or economically feasible to do open calls for every character, especially extras. There are also many laws in place . . . for instance, to work as an extra in Vancouver, where we are filming, it’s my understanding that you have to be a Canadian citizen or permanent resident, in order to support the local economy. So can we fly you halfway across the world so you can appear on set as “Tree #3” for a day? Alas, no, although I agree it sounds like fun!

In addition to all the excitement about Walker last week, we were working hard in the writers room to outline the remainder of the first season scripts. I’m very pleased with how that’s going. This will be The Lightning Thief — the story you know and love, but with added depth and layers of nuance that many of you have been yearning to know about, judging from the fan letters I have received over the past fifteen years.

Have a great weekend, and Happy Easter to those celebrating. I will get back to you with more news as soon as I can!”

#rick riordan #percy jackson tv show #percy jackson #pjo #pjo tv show #percy jackson and the olympians

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thepiningpoet · 3 years

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We feature the late dancer, Rudolf Nureyev, who in his own right, was also a man of words. As he was dying of AIDS, in excerpts from an intimate letter to his beloved dancing community, he gives us words to live, to dream, to soar by:

“It was the smell of my skin changing, it was getting ready before class, it was running away from school and after working in the fields with my dad because we were ten brothers, walking those two kilometers to dance school. I would never have been a dancer, I couldn't afford this dream, but I was there, with my shoes worn on my feet, with my body opening to music, with the breath making me above the clouds. It was the sense I gave to my being, it was standing there and making my muscles words and poetry, it was the wind in my arms, it was the other guys like me that were there and maybe wouldn't be dancers, but we swapped the sweat, silences, barely. For thirteen years I studied and worked, no auditions, nothing because I needed my arms to work in the fields. But I didn't care: I learned to dance and dance because it was impossible for me not to do it, it was impossible for me to think I was elsewhere, not to feel the earth transforming under my feet plants, impossible not to get lost in the music, impossible not to get lost in music using my eyes to look in the mirror, to try new steps.

"Every day I woke up thinking about the moment I would put my feet inside my slippers and do everything by tasting that moment. And when I was there, with the smell of camphor, wood, tights, I was an eagle on the rooftop of the world, I was the poet among poets, I was everywhere and I was everything."

I remember a ballerina Elèna Vadislowa, rich family, well taken care of, beautiful. She wanted to dance as much as I did, but later I realized it wasn't like that. She danced for all the auditions, for the end of the course show, for the teachers watching her, to pay tribute to her beauty. Two years prepared for the Djenko contest.

The expectations were all about her. Two years she sacrificed part of her life. She didn't win the contest. She stopped dancing, forever. She didn't resist. That was the difference between me and her. I used to dance because it was my creed, my need, my words that I didn't speak, my struggle, my poverty, my crying. I used to dance because only there my being broke the limits of my social condition, my shyness, my shame. I used to dance and I was with the universe on my hands, and while I was at school, I was studying, arising the fields at six am, my mind endured because it was drunk with my body capturing the air. I was poor, and they paraded in front of me guys performing for pageants, they had new clothes, they made trips. I didn't suffer from it, my suffering would have been stopping me from entering the hall and feeling my sweat coming out of the pores of my face. My suffering would have been not being there, not being there, surrounded by that poetry that only the sublimation of art can give.

"I was a painter, poet, sculptor. The first dancer of the year-end show got hurt. I was the only one who knew every move because I sucked, quietly every step. They made me wear his new, shiny clothes and dictated me after thirteen years, the responsibility to demonstrate. Nothing was different in those moments I danced on stage, I was like in the hall with my clothes off. I was and I used to perform, but it was dancing that I cared about."

The applause reached me far away. Behind the scenes, all I wanted was to take off the uncomfortable tights, but everyone's compliments and I had to wait. My sleep wasn't different from other nights. I had danced and whoever was watching me was just a cloud far away on the horizon. From that moment my life changed, but not my passion and need to dance. I kept helping my dad in the fields even though my name was on everyone's mouth. I became one of the brightest stars in dance. Now I know I'm going to die because this disease doesn't forgive, and my body is trapped in a pram, blood doesn't circulate, I lose weight. But the only thing that goes with me is my dance my freedom to be. I'm here, but I dance with my mind, fly beyond my words and my pain. I dance my being with the wealth I know I have and will follow me everywhere: that I have given myself the chance to exist above effort and have learned that if you experience tiredness and effort dancing, what if you dance sits for effort, if we pity our bleeding feet, if we chase only the aim and don't understand the full and unique pleasure of moving, we don't understand the deep essence of life, where the meaning is in its becoming and not in appearing.

"Every man should dance, for life. Not being a dancer, but dancing."

Who will never know the pleasure of walking into a hall with wooden bars and mirrors, who stops because they don't get results, who always needs stimulus to love or live, hasn't entered the depths of life, and will abandon every time life won't give him what he wants. It's the law of love: you love because you feel the need to do it, not to get something or to be reciprocated, otherwise, you're destined for unhappiness. I'm dying, and I thank God for giving me a body to dance so that I wouldn't waste a moment of the wonderful gift of life.”

- Rudolf Nureyev

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ptergwen · 4 years

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from one kid to another

w/c: 6.0k

warnings: mentions of drinking, lots of swearing, implied smut, and angst at times

summary: it was a mistake, a beautiful one that you didn’t make on your own

a/n: this genuinely is my favorite thing i’ve ever written :,) i say that a lot but this time i mean it, it’s really special i think and i so so so hope y’all do too <3 enjoy my loves

there’s only one thing in life that testing positive for is actually positive.

depending on the situation, obviously. yours isn’t ideal, or planned or a blessing or whatever people say. it’s a gigantic mistake that you didn’t realize you made until a minute ago.

you’d noticed something was wrong when your time of the month came and all you experienced was the symptoms. cramps, cravings, everything except your actual period. as everyone is pretty much taught to do, you ran to the closest drug store for a pregnancy test. what the hell else could it be? you messed around a few weeks ago, so there’s a possibility.

your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest the whole time you waited for the results. you’d thought of calling tom over for support, but there are a couple of reasons why you couldn’t do that. you realized you made the right decision when your timer for the test went off.

two red lines. you’re pregnant. you’re pregnant, and your best fucking friend is the father.

where do you go from here?

the test falls from your hand and hits the floor with a mocking clank. you slide down until your back is against the bathtub. well, you’re fucked. what an ironic word choice.

the fact that you aren’t ready in the slightest to be a parent when you’re still growing up yourself is one thing. it’s another that this could ruin the most important relationship you’ve ever had.

no, tom won’t be mad. he’s never once fought with or even raised his voice at you. in your times of need, he’s been the one to uplift you and kiss your puffy cheeks dry. no matter how he takes this, you know it won’t be out on you. he is half responsible.

but, with how you left things the last time you spoke, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get past it.

tom is alarmingly good at hiding how he truly feels. you always tease him that it’s because he’s a gemini. he’ll come back with shut up, i’m an actor and stick his nose in the air to give you the full image. in all seriousness, it does take a toll on how well he can communicate.

you’ve seen it in small ways, like when he brings you along for press days and uses unenthusiastic smiles to cover up his yawns. how he’ll be polite in a conversation with people he’d rather not speak to, then mumble about it once you’re home. he tries to put forward the “appealing” parts of himself even though he’s more than them.

tom’s biggest communication issue is that he’s been in love with you since year nine and hasn’t said a word about it. you’ve yet to figure that one out.

you two became friends while tom was starring in billy elliot. his schedule was so scattered between shows and school, so he struggled to balance both. he often had to stay late for extra help on the lessons. you’d also been there a few times. you worked better in the classroom, and he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone with the teacher.

most kids made fun of tom for his interest in theater, to his face and behind his back. not you. you thought it was just incredible that someone in your own classes worked at the west end. you’d told him on your way home one night.

he’d heard you before he saw you. “you’re tom, right?” you asked from behind him, the two of you making your way through the hall. the question sounded friendly, and it wasn’t every day kids were nice to him. tom stopped walking so you could catch up. “yes, and you are?” you gave him a small smile, books clutched to your chest. he instantly returned it.

“y/n. i heard you’re in billy elliot?” you laughed at your understatement, then corrected yourself. “that you are billy elliot, i mean. that’s so cool.” “oh, i am. thank you,” he chuckled back, a full grin taking over his face. you were both walking again, you by tom’s side. “i was hoping to come see you soon.” your voice got quieter as you told him, like you were nervous.

tom never had much luck with girls, not at this point in his life. this was an opportunity to change that. at the very least, to make a new friend. he offered something you said yes to without a beat of hesitation. “what if i got you the tickets?”

from then on, you began talking during class and not only when it ended. tom really knew how to keep the conversation going, telling story after story that left you laughing so much your teacher would shush you. you’d eventually moved to hangouts at either of your houses. harrison came into the mix at some point, the three of you forming your own group.

the difference between tom and harrison was that while harrison linked with other girls, tom was only interested in you. he’d gotten a crush on you pretty fast, if he was being honest. it might have been your shared sense of humor or the way you said his name.

thomas, when he was being cheeky. tommy, which took the place of a pet name. even regular tom. that might have been his favorite. he loved how it rolled off your tongue. he loved, and still loves, you.

you’d gone to all of tom’s performances you possibly could, the ones for school theater included. you also gave him the push to take his talents to hollywood. tom was afraid he wasn’t cut out for the big screen, that he needed more practice and experience first. you told him that if this was what he wanted to do, he had to start somewhere. why wait?

tom then landed his first movie role in the impossible at the age of fifteen. he’d received tons of praise and almost gotten nominated for an academy award, all because you convinced him to audition. you played a huge part in keeping him grounded when he was between films, and caught him up on whatever schoolwork he’d missed.

you practically zoomed to tom’s house when he was announced as the next spider-man. you’d been constantly refreshing every social media platform marvel was on since tom became a finalist for the part. that process was probably the most difficult experience he’s ever gone through. you’d know, having heard all about it from tom.

the two of you celebrated along with the rest of tom’s family that night. you kept giving him little proud of you squeezes on his shoulder or knee. tom is eternally indebted to you for being the most supportive of everything he does.

he of course sends the support right back. although he went down the movie star path, acting wasn’t for you. you’d gone off to university and studied hard as hell and aced all your shit. tom quizzed you on material whenever you needed. he wanted to help you somehow, and this was all you’d let him do.

he’d offered to pay off your loans and any other expenses necessary because he had the money to do that now. you refused every single time, not trying to become dependent on him. he admired your drive, yet hated it at the same time. everything you’d done for him, it was his turn to be the caretaker. it should’ve been.

whenever tom wrapped filming for the holidays and came back home, you were always preparing for final exams. he kept you company, content with simply being in your presence. you typed away on your keyboard and read over notes until your eyes burned. tom occasionally brought you snacks, tea, asked how you were and what he could do.

sometimes, he would have to cut your study time short. he’d say it wasn’t healthy or you were overdoing it and to come relax with him for a bit. other times, tom let you be. he didn’t want to get in the way of your already stressful assignments. those were the nights you’d fall asleep in front of your laptop. drool on your chin, hunched over at your desk.

tom made sure to tuck you in, press a light kiss to whatever part of your face wasn’t covered in spit, then let himself out. he knew where your spare key was, so he used that. you’d wake up to a “Fell asleep studying again. Rest today x” text the next morning.

when it came time for you to graduate, tom was on the first flight there. it was during another round of reshoots for chaos walking. he respectfully told doug that he’d have to work around his schedule or replace him, which couldn’t be done so late into filming. tom didn’t care that it made him seem like a prick. he was getting to you no matter what he had to do.

he’d earned plenty of stares and whispers from people as he took his seat in the crowd. he was a proper celebrity now, so he expected it. his solution was to ignore everything and chat with your family about how proud they were of you, tom the most. he saw you go from a kid attempting algebra equations to an adult at her uni graduation. you’ve really grown up together.

it was why he teared up hearing them call your name, seeing you beam as you walked across the stage. your mom grabbed his hand and nodded at him, like she could tell exactly what was going through his head.

you ran right up to tom after the ceremony was over, leaping into his arms. he let out a couple of chuckles as he spun you around. “i didn’t think you’d make it,” you’d admitted, happy yet sad tears in your eyes. tom put you down so he could pull you in for a real hug. “i’ll always be wherever you are, y/n,” he said into your ear, rocking you while you gripped at his suit collar.

flash forward to a year later, your career is finally taking off, tom’s is flourishing like it has been for years, and you’re pregnant with his child. you’re trying to recall the series of events that led you to this moment.

you were both drunk, blackout drunk because the only reason you remember sleeping together is that you woke up naked in the same bed. harrison’s bed.

he threw a housewarming party for himself, having recently moved out of tom’s and the other boys’ place. the three of them, sam, and you were all in attendance, along with a lot of others you hadn’t met.

neither you nor tom could figure out where he knew all those people from. he’d clinged to you two for the most part, more so you now with tom usually away. they could have been from work. harrison is breaking into the business himself, small roles here and there. tom actually met him in your school’s theater program, then he introduced him to you, ten years ago already.

sam entertained himself by making concoctions with the snacks harrison set out. harry got together a playlist for the party. harrison and tuwaine struck up a conversation with some of harrison’s actor friends. that left you and tom alone, out of stuff to do, and with one way to fix it.

“drink?” tom had asked you, a smirk playing on his lips. “love one,” you hummed back and set off for the kitchen. the two of you raided harrison’s liquor cabinet, grabbing his biggest bottle of wine. he’d dumbly pointed it out during the house tour he gave you before the other guests arrived.

you were about to search for glasses, but tom’s fingers threaded through yours. he gently tugged you away and nodded behind him. “let’s bring this upstairs. seems much more fun there,” he’d murmured over the music, a grin breaking across your face.

tom is big on clubbing and socializing, however, you aren’t. he comes up with ways to get you out of these events, just in case.

“we can break in harrison’s bed for him,” you said as a completely harmless joke, no intentions of that becoming your reality later on. spoiler alert: it did. “and how are we gonna do that?” tom quirked a suggestive eyebrow and breathed out a laugh as you dragged him towards the stairs. despite yourself, you’d giggled at his words.

not one drink in either of you yet, and you were stumbling and cracking up as you ran upstairs. you’d pulled tom by your still attached hands into what you remembered as harrison’s room. tom shut the door, locked it, saying under his breath that would be a “convenient investment” for him to make as well.

he took out a bottle opener that he must have put in his pocket at some point and got to work on your wine, you getting comfortable on the new mattress. the two of you passed it to the other after every sip, tom licking the taste of your lip gloss off his own lips every so often.

the equivalent of three drinks in, you were making out. both of you were just tipsy at this point, tom holding you by your hips as you lied down, your legs around his waist. god, he could’ve done this sober. he’d dreamed about kissing you, really kissing you since he was fourteen. you’d always felt like you two had something more. ah, there it was.

halfway through the bottle got you past the next two bases, and you were ready for the fourth and ultimate one by the time you shook the last few drops onto the tip of your tongue. tom groaned at the sight of that, drawing your half naked body in closer to his.

you two had forgotten to use protection in each of your drunken states. without a doubt, you both would’ve agreed to a condom had your minds not been everywhere but where they should have.

you’d woken up first the morning after, panic immediately coursing through your veins thicker than blood. a fully nude and sleeping tom had you in his embrace, arms secured around your middle, facing you. you gasped when you made the connection, loudly enough to wake tom up. his long eyelashes tickled your face, a confused pout on his lips. uh... um...

“did we fucking...” you trailed off, no words to describe whatever unfolded. “fuck?” tom finished for you. a very blunt explanation, but true nevertheless. “looks like it,” he rasped, pout changing into a smile. your face fell at the vague memories of how you spent your night.

you definitely wanted to do it. just, he’s your best friend, who’s seen you at your least sexy moments over the years. when you were sick, had breakdowns from stress, you name literally anything, tom was there. it took one bottle of cheap wine for him to forget that?

the real answer was no. tom is entirely in love with you, for a decade at that. you were beginning to discover you feel the same, only you had no idea he already loves you. you’d assumed this was meant to be merely a hookup. from the frown your face held, he’d thought you were regretting it. oh, were you both so wrong.

“um... we don’t have to talk about it,” tom told you halfheartedly, under the impression that’s what you preferred. you physically felt yourself get weaker in tom’s strong arms. he’s not interested. “yeah, that’s probably for the best. i...” you were lying. his heart shrunk, shriveled up inside his chest. she doesn’t love me like that.

“you have to go. aren’t you behind on some emails?” tom hoped you didn’t hear his voice strain from the tears pushing at his eyes. “right. almost forgot, thanks.” you’d plastered on a smile, slipping out of his grasp. a tear rolled down his cheek, so he wiped it away before you noticed. you’d already gotten out of the bed and begun picking your clothes up off the floor.

“i’ll drive you home, then.” he rolled on to his other side, you thought so he could give you privacy to change. it was that, and also because he was crying. he couldn’t hold it in. tom is naturally an emotional person. imagine finding out the love you’ve had almost half your life is unreciprocated. it’s soul crushing.

you two found harrison snoring and on top of tuwaine as you left the house. no silly remarks or shared glances for the first time in ten years. tom couldn’t muster anything up, and you felt numb.

the drive was painful. you’d said your goodbyes after tom pulled up to the curb, which held an odd weight to them. once you were out of the car, a sob wracked through him, banging on the steering wheel and not giving a shit about the loud horn going off. you collapsed face first onto your bed. hours passed by while you stared at nothing and contemplated everything.

since it happened, you haven’t spoken much. small talk over text every few days or so, both of you pretending things are normal for the other’s sake. about a month later, today, is when you found out you’re pregnant.

there’s no use wallowing in any of this. you need to figure out your next move, one that should probably involve tom. first, you want to talk to someone else. you want other opinions and a voice in your head that isn’t your own. harrison gets a text from you saying to come over now, the now in all caps. he does.

you let him in after the second knock, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. however torn you are, you must look it. shirt balled in your fists, lip quivering. he keeps his eyes on yours as he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. this is all becoming too real. “y/n, are you okay?”

you’re about to cry in three, two...

“haz, i fucked up,” you choke out, tears unable to stay at bay. he takes you into his arms for a hug. half your face is hidden in his shoulder, hands clutching at his back. he lets you cry it out, holding you until your heavy breathing steadies. “what’s happened?” harrison asks quietly, both of you leaving the hug.

“if- if i tell you, you can’t freak out. you can’t tell anyone else, either,” you instruct, searching his eyes for certainty that he won’t under any circumstances. “i won’t, y/n/n,” he assures you and puts an encouraging hand on your arm. your heart pounding abnormally fast, you spit it out. your first time saying it aloud. “i’m pregnant.”

harrison flinches and doesn’t even try to conceal it. he takes his hand off of you, worry swimming across his features. he blinks at you, unsure of what to say. you’d react the same way, maybe worse, so you don’t blame him. a discussion you, him, and tom had a couple years back replays in his mind.

the three of you were talking about your futures, seeing as you were close to living them. when tom asked you two where you stood on having your own families, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “nope, the factory is closed for a long ass time.” until you were in your thirties, you aimed to focus on yourself. harrison distinctly remembered because of how you phrased it.

“you’re... you... wow,” is all he replies with. you head over to the couch, more tears welling up in your eyes. do the pregnancy hormones act up this early? harrison follows you over and sits down next to you with an awkward clearing of his throat. “do you want to be pregnant?” he has to ask because he’s not sure if he should congratulate you or what.

“i don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice airy. your eyes are fixed on the wall in front of you. you haven’t given yourself time to think about it. there are so many reasons you don’t, and a single one you do. “do you, um, know who the dad is?” harrison glances over at you. “yeah.” your voice cracks. you’re both afraid for him to ask what he does next.

he shifts so he’s sitting up. “can i know?” a sniffle passing through you, you finally look at him. “it’s tom,�� you say it before you lose the nerve to. harrison’s face doesn’t change this time. he isn’t surprised you and tom went there. he’d seen your friendship growing into more the older you all got. what he can’t believe is where it took you.

his best friend pregnant, and his other best friend responsible for it.

“when did you...” “at your party,” you explain, bringing your legs up so they’re criss cross on the couch. “i thought you were gone a little too long.” he says that to try cheering you up. you appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t work. you’re not in a joking mood. he’ll stick to the main issue. “so, have you told him?”

“clearly not,” you scoff, not at him but at what you two have gotten yourselves into. “y/n... i think you should tell him,” harrison sighs out, then adds, “whether you keep it or not.” “why? that would ruin everything, it already has.” you’re getting angry now, which plunges you into angry crying, voice unsteady as you go on.

“the last time i saw tom was that night, and i guess it meant more to me than it did to him because we haven’t talked about it at all. he didn’t want to.” you swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, gaze stern compared to harrison’s soft one.

he drapes an arm around your shoulders, you curling into him with another sniffle. he doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he tries again. “i know you, y/n, and i know tom. you’ll kill yourselves not talking about this.” he’s right, no shit he is. avoiding telling tom how you feel, and your pregnancy on top of that, it’s eating you up inside. it’s swallowing you whole.

“what if he doesn’t want to be a dad? or- or i’m a shit mum?” you croak out, your doubts getting the best of you. “i can barely take care of myself. what am i supposed to do with a baby?” you’re leaning forward with your hands pressing into your temples. harrison’s hand moves to your upper back. “i- i don’t think i should have them. i... we can’t,” you conclude.

“tom loves kids,” he gives you a gentle reminder. “why would his own be the exception?” another good point, yet you still have rebuttles. “right, he’s a godfather and he’s really good with them and all that, but i’m not the right person, and it’s a terrible time,” you tell him all at once, in a rush to get your words out before harrison’s sway you.

“he’s never around, i’m doing my own stuff. we’re not meant for this.” you lift your head out of your hands and sit back on the couch. harrison returns his hands to his lap. he’s frowning at you, which you see from the corner of your eye. “i’m not going to force you to have the baby. just saying you have options.”

yeah, really shitty ones.

“either way, talk to tom.” harrison says this more like a demand so you’ll take his advice into actual consideration. “at least about the hookup.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes watering for the nth time already.

you have no choice because he’s right again. you’ll never move on from what happened unless you and tom address it.

the next morning, you do what harrison told you to and invite tom over. he replied saying he was on his way maybe a minute later. he’s nervous to see you because yeah, but more so looking forward since it’s been so long. you’re so nauseous you barely have room for nerves. it’s morning sickness with a hint anxiety.

it feels almost normal when he first gets here, no how’ve you been and what are you up to these days? being as close as you and tom are, you’re not capable of such a dry conversation. personally, you still feel uneasy while he recounts a golfing incident him and harry got into the other day. you know something he doesn’t.

“when i tell you we flew, we flew,” tom makes a pushing forward motion with both hands. “right into the tree. i think harry, like, dented part of his face.” he lets out a breathy laugh, you forcing out one of your own. you’d be more interested without the fact that you’re expecting a child, his child, at the back of your mind.

tom exhales, shifting to face you on your couch. it’s funny how different things were when you and harrison sat in these same spots yesterday. so much has and is about to change.

“they had to send another golf cart to come get us. it was wild.” “it sounds wild,” you hollowly agree. he can tell you’re not too invested in hearing about harry’s terrible driving skills, so he changes the subject. “anyway, harrison told me he came over last night?” your stomach drops, heat coming over your whole body.

“did... did he say why?” you murmur with a look of urgency in your eyes. tom shrugs a shoulder, and casually. there’s no way he knows. “no, was he supposed to?” his tone stays playful, which you can thankfully tell. that puts you more at ease. “no. no, never mind. i would’ve asked you to come, but...” you’re searching through your catalog of excuses.

thank god tom says something else because you can’t find a good one. “it’s alright. i actually, um, had a work call.” a small smile spreads across his face, a proud one. intrigued, you raise both eyebrows. “what’d you talk about?” tom twiddles with his fingers in his lap. “i’ve been offered an audition for this really amazing film. everything works out, it’ll be huge for me.”

you’re smiling back this time, putting a hand over one of his. “woah, that’s incredible. i’m so happy for you, tom.” you lock your fingers with his from the back of his hand. he looks down at them, humbly shaking his head. “when is it?” “a few weeks from today. it films in brazil...”

oh. you can’t tell him now. it’s not worth him missing out on a milestone in his career for a baby you’re not sure you should have. that would be so unfair of you to ask. what are you going to do, not support his dreams for the first time in a literal decade? and, you’d call yourself his best friend through it all?

you guess this also means the way you feel about tom is one sided. he’s okay with leaving you after the most intimate moment you two have ever shared. you’ll dance around it the rest of your lives. better yet, act like the night never even happened. that’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a permanent reminder of it.

the thought makes you sick to your stomach. so sick, you could...

while tom is talking more about what the audition entails, you suddenly bolt up from the couch. you run for the bathroom, a hand cupped over your mouth. his face twists up in confusion from your disappearance. tom calls, “y/n/n?” out to you, but you can’t respond because your head is in the toilet. he rushes in when he hears you retching.

he gets onto the floor with you. you’re bent over, puking your guts out, back in another place where your life changed forever less than twenty four hours ago. tom pulls your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, his other on your back. that’s all you have in you. you stay over the toilet just to be sure.

saliva drips from your mouth, making you cough roughly, the sound echoing. tom moves so he’s next to you, keeping his hand in your hair and not caring one bit about the smell because he loves you and he’s utterly concerned about what he witnessed.

“love, are you sick?” he coos, searching for your eyes. they water from the intensity of everything. “morning sickness,” you answer without thinking first. shit. shit, shit, shit. it came out of you like more vomit, word vomit. there’s no going back now.

tom lets go of your hair with his eyes still on yours. his hand on your back then leaves you, fingers trailing down your body as they go. “morning sickness,” he repeats, putting it together. “you’re pregnant?” guilt taking over your features, you sit across from tom. you’re once again leaning against the bathtub, him against the counter.

“this isn’t how i wanted you to find out,” you admit and bring your knees up to your chest. “i took a test yesterday. it was positive.” your arms wrap around your legs, you now tearing up because tom figured it out. a shaky breath passes his lips. “i haven’t gone to my doctor or anything yet, but i-“

“are you keeping the baby?” tom cuts in. not to judge you for your choice, to find out what the fuck is going on before he travels across the world. you tighten your arms around yourself, grabbing your wrist. “i haven’t decided.” he gives you an understanding nod and reaches out for you. you dodge him. he might not want to do that after what you say next.

“tom, i... there’s more,” you whimper out. “yeah. i’m... i’m listening,” tom croaks, unable to hold in his infinite amount of emotions for a multitude of reasons. he’s losing you a second time. more tears spill from your eyes as you break the news, the news that will destroy what he’s been working towards his entire life.

“the baby is yours.” his face relaxes, looking almost relieved when you confess it. “when we slept together, uh,” you’re sure it’s obvious enough that you don’t have to go over the details. he’s tearing up himself. you reluctantly continue. “if you still want to audition, i get it. we don’t have to do this.”

“fuck the audition. fuck the whole movie. all of my movies, really,” tom surprises you by blurting out. he moves in until your legs are touching. “i’m staying. even if you don’t have the baby, i have to be here.” you watch in disbelief as he wipes away what are actually happy tears. “really? i was scared you’d resent me for it, or hate me even,” you mumble to him.

“y/n, what? why would i ever do that?” tom places a hand on your cheek, touch gentle and filled with love. you part your legs so he can be closer to you. he takes the space between them, thumb brushing over your skin. “i didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of this. i thought that night was only a hookup for you.” your voice wobbles under his gaze.

“no, are you kidding? i thought that’s what you thought.” he’s smiling now, eyes twinkling along with it. what he’s been meaning to tell you since you were only kids finally comes out. “i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, y/n. i always imagined myself doing this with you.” his words draw a quiet laugh from you, a happy one. “i know we were drunk, but i meant it all.”

the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, they make you cry all over again. you’re getting used to it.

“i love you, tom,” you lean into him with a sniffle and a grin, his forehead now resting on yours, using his thumb to catch one of your tears. “i really do.” “i love you forever. i always have,” tom speaks lowly, breath fanning across your face. your hands grab at his shoulders. “so, you’ll stay? you’ll do this with me?” he reminds you of what he said before, this time a promise.

“forever.”

you ended up having the baby, and tom held your hand through the entire labor. nikki was holding his other hand, your mom holding your other hand. harrison had originally been in the room as well. when you started to push, he got freaked out and had to leave. your support system remained strong either way.

despite his repulsion of your daughter’s birth, you and tom decided to make harrison her godfather. he eventually became the godfather of your other two children also, which you had a few years later.

tom took a paternity leave from the industry so he could be with you and jamie. he’d also used his time off to propose to you, something else he fantasized about since year eleven in school. it wasn’t anything too grand because the whole world was already buzzing about you two, and a big gesture felt too impersonal with everything you’d been through together.

he did it in the form of passing a note, something you often did in class to avoid being scolded by your teacher for talking. the note came with a pencil to check off either the yes or no box, “will you marry me?” written above them. anyone else would have found it so unromantic, but you giggled as you checked off yes before your lips crashed into his smiling ones.

you were married shortly after the proposal, jamie as your flower girl and all your friends and family in attendance.

to do what he loved and stay with the people he loved, tom created his own version of hollywood in london. he took it upon himself to assemble a team and make a production company. harry behind the camera, harrison and tuwaine in the films, and tom either starring alongside them or directing. they give so many young actors tons of opportunities.

you eventually went back to work, too. it was like you’d never left, coworkers offering endless hugs and going over what you missed, not that you struggled getting into it. tom was there to celebrate every promotion, every compliment from your boss, every part of your life. jamie was also there, then liam and lucy.

all three of them are running around the house right now, putting on shoes and collecting their supplies for school. you take a sip of the orange juice liam didn’t finish with a lighthearted eye roll. tom chuckles as he passes you in the kitchen, getting the kids’ lunchboxes for them to minimize the chaos.

“you have that pitch meeting today, right?” he slips his hands through the lunchbox handles and walks over to you. “mhm,” you hum, mouth full with juice. his lips press to your temple, giving your waist a one handed squeeze. “you’ll smash it. always do.” “thanks, tommy.” putting down the cup, you reach up to button whatever parts of his shirt he didn’t have time to.

“aren’t you doing a casting? for the new script they sent?” you wonder aloud and smooth down the cotton material. “me and harry. should be interesting,” he remarks, you giving him a quick kiss back on his chin. they tend to have their artistic differences. “good luck with that. you do drop off, i’ll do pick up?” you pat one of the lunchboxes around his arms.

“deal.” tom goes in for a kiss on your lips, then a chorus of dad, we have to go led by jamie rings through the house. with a knowing smile, you push at his chest. “see you later. love you.” “love you, holland,” he bites back a grin of his own. his last name, now yours, suits you perfectly.

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