#i finally queued this to post after having it sit in my drafts forever

[tardxsblues]

[craniumhurricane]

call me, baby, if you need a friend

Cleaning up some old WIPs. This has been in my drafts since end of season 2/around season 3.

Basically 4 times Clarke calls Bellamy and 1 time that Bellamy calls Clarke.

Thank you @casleyislove and @sushigirlali for always reading things before I post them!

[ On AO3! ]

___

(i)

It's a quiet night in at the Blake apartment. Or, at least, for Bellamy it is. He's having a nice Friday night by himself after surviving a truly grueling week of finals. Octavia tried to convince him to go out and celebrate the end of the semester the "right way," but he turned her down… he's still not quite sure how he managed to do that.

His feet are currently propped up on the coffee table with a large bowl of store brand cocoa puffs in his lap. Bellamy may be an adult but damn if he isn’t going to celebrate the end of the term with sugary cereal… nevermind that he didn’t actually make time to grocery shop this week. The TV was queued and ready for the marathon of Ancient Aliens episodes he’d missed due to studying, and he was just about to press play when he hears a short but insistent buzzing sound.  

Glancing around, his eyes land on Octavia’s phone sitting on the corner of the coffee table. She must have left it in her hurry to leave since she was running late to meet up with her boyfriend.

Bellamy keeps his eyes on it for a second before deciding to ignore it, and once again his finger hovers over the play button on the remote. Then the phone lights up again, this time with a phone call; a picture of Octavia and a curly haired blonde that he recognizes, the name CLARKE THE GRIFFIN flashing across the screen. He considers ignoring it for a second time but... if she’s resorting to actually calling instead of texting again then something could be seriously wrong.

Bellamy swipes his thumb across the screen to answer and brings the phone to his ear but before he can even say anything a voice on the other side interjects immediately.

“Men are dicks,” the woman says without preamble. “No! Worse than that. They're weird tumors that grow on dicks," she pauses, seems to think about it, and then adds, "Preferably life threatening.”

Bellamy blinks a few times before he answers, “I'm sure you're right, but don't you think that's a bit harsh?”

The line is quiet. He can hear her shifting the phone, no doubt checking the screen to make sure she called the right person.

“Octavia?”

“Bellamy.”

Clarke huffs. “Where's Octavia?” she snaps. He can hear the annoyance seeping into her tone, which in turn just makes him feel his own frustrations start to rise.

He tamps it down though. “On a date,” he answers.

She deflates at that, “Oh right. One month anniversary with Lincoln.”

He hums a confirmation and then they’re silent for a few minutes. So long that it’s Bellamy’s turn to look at the phone and make sure she’s still there. “Did you need something?” he asks once he sees that the call is still, in fact, in progress.

She takes a deep breath before answering, “I ended things with Finn tonight.”

Bellamy had only met Finn Collins a handful of times; the guy was fine except for a little cocky… and he always seemed to want to show off in front of pretty girls. His hair was too long and always styled like he was some kind of frat boy that came from big money even though Bellamy's 100% sure he never so much as pledged.

And then there was that one time he flirted with Octavia.

Ok, so Bellamy didn’t like the guy. But a break up is still a shitty thing to go through which is why he says, “I’m sorry,” and finds that he means it.

“Not your fault,” Clarke says immediately, “But I was kind of looking for someone to watch me binge drink and listen to me vent.”

He understands that, having gone through the same thing when he broke up with Roma at the start of the term. If you could really call them “hooking up occasionally” the same thing as dating, but still, getting drunk with Miller had been essential in the whole moving on process.

“You want to come over here anyway?” he offers carefully, casually. He doesn’t mind Clarke. She’s younger than him, around Octavia’s age. They aren’t exactly friends, but he would consider them a little more than acquaintances. Enough that it shouldn’t be too weird for him to invite her over even without his sister present. Plus, her getting drunk here is a better alternative than her getting drunk by herself in some bar.

“You don’t mind?” she asks and he thinks he hears relief in her voice, “I was kind of already on my way over to your guy’s place... I don’t really feel like going out and I really don't feel like being depressed and alone in my dorm right now.”

“Nah,” he says and then tries a joke to brighten her spirits, “Sounds like something fun to watch. I’ll order food.”

“Chinese would be great,” and he swears he can hear a smile in her voice so he’ll count his dumb joke as a victory. “Thanks, Bellamy, see you soon.”

He's not even a little bit mad about dumping out his now soggy cereal.

*

(ii)

“So, you’ve been in school for basically forever. Is it normal for a person to experience this amount of stress?”

Bellamy’s lips twitch as he holds his phone to his ear. After Clarke crashed his Friday night in, and spilled on the whole cheating Finn debacle while they did shots, Bellamy figured he should give her his own cell phone number. As much as he hated to admit it, and honestly he never will, his sister and her boyfriend were getting serious, so who knows how much Octavia would be available for late night bitchfests about significant others, fellow students, and the human population in general. Which were just a few of the topics they discussed that night. Hanging out with Clarke ended up being kind of fun, a better night than he originally planned. She even let him watch a little of his marathon and offered her own commentary. Bellamy would do it again… which is something else he would never admit.

It's not like they suddenly talk every day, but it’s a near thing. They would send each other the occasional text when one of them sees something that the other absolutely has to know about. Mostly, he gets pictures of old dogs she sees at the park, asking if this will be him in 20 years. Bellamy responds in kind with memes about college life and rubbing it in her face that they no longer apply to him since he graduated last semester.

But sometimes she reaches out to him if there is something particularly bothering her. Such as dealing with egotistical dickwads that consider themselves professors and shutting down female students in a male dominated class.

Clarke’s probably the only person that ever calls him and can never start the conversation with a simple ‘Hello’. Actually, she’s probably the only person that actually still calls him.

“I just got a job teaching so that insult isn't going to work anymore since I literally will be in a school as part of my job,” is his first response before he turns to one of concern, “Midterms got ya down?”

“It’s just,” she gives an exasperated sigh before continuing, “I want to do something that helps people, I know I want to help people… But maybe I don't want to help people the way my mom wants me to help people...ya know?”

“You’re going to have to give me more to go on here, Princess-”

“I’m thinking about switching my major,” she says abruptly, like she’s ripping off a band aid.

He’s silent, waiting to see if she’s going to say anything else. When it becomes clear she’s waiting for him to say something he responds honestly, “If being a doctor isn’t something you want to do, then you shouldn’t do it.”

“But-”

“What your mom wants you to do shouldn’t overrule what you want to do, Clarke,” he interrupts her. Due to the increasing amount of time he’s been spending with Clarke, he’s learned that the Griffins have always had a capital “P” Plan and he knows that Clarke has a hard time knowing when she can push the boundaries of said Plan.

She’s silent again and Bellamy’s starting to think he’s going to have to prod her a second time. He’s got the beginnings of his big speech all prepared when finally she speaks up. “I’m thinking about going into Art Therapy,” She says thoughtfully, “Or maybe teaching? Helping out underprivileged kids...or hell, even underprivileged adults. Or maybe something for the community?”

His lips twitch on another smile at hearing the beginnings of a hint of passion in her voice. “Teaching can be very rewarding,” he says magnanimously.

She snorts and it turns into a full laugh, “You haven't even started yet! It could be the worst thing you’ve ever done and a total waste of your degree.”

“Your confidence in me really is touching,” he deadpans and then adds simply, “You’re an amazing artist, Clarke. I think doing something with that could be something you'd enjoy and be really really good at.”

She’s quiet when she asks, “You think I’m amazing? You’ve never told me that.” And Bellamy swears he can hear that smile in her voice again. The one he always looks forward to. The one he tries to coax out of her without realizing he’s doing it.

He feels his cheeks start to heat up and even though she can't see him, he feels the need to brush it off. “Yeah, well, I generally try to be as dickish as possible so…”

She snorts again and damn if he didn’t feel a slight flutter in his chest.

“For the record, I think you’re going to be an amazing teacher,” she says it so matter-of-factly but he’ll have to dwell on it later because she sobers and then asks softly, “So, you think I should do it?”

It’s not hard for him to build her up. She spends so much time being there for the rest of their slowly merging friend groups that she rarely takes time to see the greatness in herself. He doesn’t mind helping.

“I think you should do whatever the hell you want.”

*

(iii)

“Women are worse than men.”

Bellamy rubs the sleep from his eyes and glances at the clock; it was almost 3 in the morning. “I thought men were tumors?” he asks around a yawn.

“Yeah, well, women can be tumors too,” Clarke huffs, but she just sounds tired, “Comparing people to tumors is equal opportunity. Strides in feminism are being made, didn’t you know?”

Bellamy pushes himself into a sitting position, suddenly more alert as he picks up the trace of tears in her voice. “You ok?” he asks.

Clarke is silent at first, but he waits her out, he knows that she’ll tell him. “Lexa broke up with me,” she says quietly and then adds in confusion, “Or we broke up with each other? I’m a little unsure. We spent the whole night arguing and then suddenly she was packing up her stuff.” She pauses before taking a shaky breath, “It’s over. We’re over.”

“I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

“She was leaving anyway,” she continues, bitterly, “Some new job. She was leaving in a few weeks and didn’t even bother to tell me. I told her we could make it work long distance, I was willing to try and make it work. That’s when the arguing started. Not just about that but about-,” Clarke abruptly cuts herself off and hesitates, “about... other things. Things I didn’t even know were an issue.” She’s quiet again before she adds, “She didn’t say it but I think she was disappointed that I never suggested going with her...”

The thought makes a quick flash of irritation run through him. “She wanted you to uproot your entire life and go with her,” he summarizes as he tries to adjust the pillows on his bed by beating them, maybe a little too roughly at the thought of her doing just that, before leaning back against them.

“Which is completely crazy, I know,” she hurries to say, “but I wish we could have talked about it.”

“I am sorry, Clarke,” he says again, “I know Lexa seemed like she was it for you.”

“But maybe she wasn’t?” Clarke counters as if trying to reason with herself. “I don’t know. We were both committed to each other, but maybe this was a sign that we weren’t going to be able to make it work long term?” She pauses and Bellamy can hear the gears in her head turning as she processes a way for her to handle this, too explain it to herself. “When we were together,” she hesitates before continuing, and he can imagine her biting her lip, “I was happy... but I felt like a separate version of myself, ya know? Still me, but not completely me?”

Bellamy chews on the words he wants to say and goes with, “Sometimes the person you're with can change you; it's not always a bad thing.” He gets quiet as he adds thoughtfully, “I like to think Gina made me a better person...and she probably did,” he pauses, this time unsure if he should keep going, but Clarke hasn't said anything, so she must be waiting for him to continue, “We tried, tried really hard, to make it work, but eventually you just realize that maybe the relationship isn't going anywhere and what’s best for everyone is just to call it.”

“Wait, you and Gina broke up?” Clarke asks in surprise, “When did that happen!?”

“That's what you got from that?” He rubs a hand over his face as he thinks about it, “About two weeks ago?”

“Shit,” she says and is quiet before asking in a small voice, “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Honestly, I haven't seen a whole lot of you these last few months,” he hears what he said and corrects himself, “We haven’t seen a whole lot of you.” He’s surprised at his ability to keep the bite out of his voice; because the truth was this last year has sucked since Clarke started dating Lexa.

They met at one of Clarke's art gigs. Lexa was cool; fun when she wanted to be, but also a little hard to be around. Most of the time, she seemed to prefer doing things without any of Clarke’s friends.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says.

“It’s fine,” he answers her and means it. “Gina and I are still good friends.”

“I wasn’t talking about you and Gina,” she says, voice soft.

He realizes what she’s actually apologizing for and he doesn’t know what to say. Because of course he forgives her, he will always forgive her.

The silence lasts too long so he clears his throat and prompts, “Want to come over and get drunk?”

Her laugh through the phone breaks the tension, “It’s like 3 o'clock in the morning.”

“My bar is always open.”

She chuckles. “I really want to hit something,” she says with a determined edge to her voice, “Then maybe get drunk.”

“How about this, we get a few more hours of sleep, wake up at a normal time, and go hit something,” he offers and then adds as if it's an afterthought, “And then get drunk, of course.”

She laughs again, “Oh, of course.” There’s that smile. “I forgot what being single with you was like.”

Bellamy sobers at the thought. It has been awhile since the two of them were single at the same time. “Always here to help, Princess.”

*

(iv)

“Why did I agree to this trip again?”

He’s packing up the essays that are scattered across his desk when she calls, 4 o’clock on the dot. Bellamy tries to suppress a laugh but he’s pretty sure she can at least hear the teasing smile in his voice.

“Just getting back to the hotel?” he asks in lieu of his own greeting.

“Yes!” she exclaims in exasperation. “And if it were up to Josephine, we probably would have walked all of damn Paris tonight,” her voice gets muffled at the end and he can only assume she’s thrown herself face first onto the nearest bed. “I cannot wait for a shower- No! A bath, definitely taking a long, hot bath.”

And now the image of Clarke Griffin in the bath, with just enough bubbles to cover up to her chest, has entered his mind. He shoves it away before anymore thoughts can accompany it.

This used to never be a problem. Sure, he’s always known that Clarke is attractive, but he has never been attracted to her. But ever since he broke up with Gina and she broke up with Lexa, Bellamy has been exceedingly aware of the fact that they have both remained single.

The last time this happened was right after Finn.

Bellamy shakes his head for good measure before responding. “You’re going to fall asleep in the tub and your roommate will find your prune-y, wrinkled body in the morning.” He cringes.  Apparently he wasn’t able to get the image of her completely out of his head.

Clarke scoffs, but he can tell that it’s in an exasperated but fond kind of way. “How is it that you manage to be a buzzkill from over 4,000 miles away?” she asks drily and then pauses before adding, “Actually, Josie would probably just leave me in there for the entire trip and never let on that something was up.”

He turns the key to lock his office behind him and heads for the staff lot. “Don’t worry, if you don’t call to check in, I’ll call the National Guard,” he teases.

“I know you would,” she says simply, like it’s a known fact.

Things have been a little weird after he became aware that they were both single. Mostly because, he’s pretty sure that Clarke has also come to realize it. When he turns to look at her, he often finds her already looking. Their innocent touches are now more frequent and linger just a bit longer.

Bellamy has come to realize that he doesn’t want to be single and the reason he doesn’t want to be single is because he wants his best friend to not be single with him.

There’s just never a right time to tell her.

“So, what did you do today?” he asks.

Despite the exhaustion and jetlag that’s surly setting in, Clarke jumps into an animated retelling of the flight and arriving at their hotel room just in time to change clothes and head back out to walk the streets of Paris to get their bearings before their tours officially start tomorrow.

“I’m a little disappointed that we’re doing the Louvre first thing tomorrow. I was hoping to be a little more alert for that.”

“Your coffee addiction hasn’t stopped just because you’re in another country,” he points out as he gets in his car.

She laughs, “Jeez, you are such an ass.”

He starts the car but doesn’t leave just yet; afraid the long distance call will drop out.

“What are you doing now?” he asks into the comfortable silence.

“Admiring the view,” she admits softly. “It really is gorgeous all lit up. Makes me want to dig out my sketchbook.”

“You have a week, Princess,” he chuckles. “Don’t screw up your jetlag even more by losing track of time in your drawings on the first night.”

She’s quiet again before confessing softer somehow, “It also makes me wish you were here.”

His heart clenches in his chest and he wills himself to sound normal. “Maybe next time,” he tries for teasing but it comes out almost wistful.

“Next time, hmmm?” Clarke hums. “You’d come to Paris with me?” And he’s sure she’s flirting with him.

“Well, maybe not for our first date,” he says, “But maybe, like, our fifth or something.”

Clarke’s quiet for a long time and he’s afraid he’s overstepped, misread the room. He’s about to take it back, play it off as a joke when she finally speaks.

“And what would a first date look like?” she asks with what he thinks is hope in her voice.

He swallows a couple of times. “Well,” he starts, “Since you’re already getting some of the best museum experiences, I’d probably settle for dinner and a movie. Something cheesy that’s playing at the dollar theater; where we’re the only ones there and can yell at the screen.”

She chuckles and his heart flutters, “We already do that, Bell. Quite frequently, actually.”

“Yeah, but if it’s a date then I’d get to kiss you at the end of it.”

“What? No making out during the movie?” she asks and he can picture how cute her face gets when she pouts.

A grin spreads across his face and he’s grateful no one can see how goofy he must look.

“We’ll have to make sure it’s a really bad movie.”

*

(+i)

Clarke rubs some moisturizer on her face before capping the tube and tossing it into her bag on the bed. After ensuring that everything she’s going to need for tomorrow is packed, she zips it up and grabs one of Bellamy’s hoodies to slip on over her clothes.

Ever since he picked her up from the airport when she got back from her trip to Paris, and she ran directly into his arms, giving the other people waiting quite a show, there always seems to be one laying around, waiting for her to find it. She assumes that he gets as much of a thrill out of her wearing them as she does.

She heads down the stairs of their townhouse, passing various pictures and artwork, and shoots Raven one more text not to forget to bring her dress to the venue tomorrow. She’s supposed to help her get ready in the morning along with her mother. In the meantime, Abby has sent a car to pick her up and take her to the hotel. Easier to get ready if she’s already there for the stylist… something else her mother insisted on paying for. No matter how many times Clarke told her she didn’t care what her hair looked like because she was marrying the love of her life.

Clarke locks up the house and greets the driver, slipping into the backseat. She intends to spend the ride lost in thought, going through the checklists that were running through her head.

Their engagement had been on the short side but she didn’t mind. They were both ready to get on with this next chapter in their lives.

Her phone is resting loosely in her hand, face down on her knee, when it starts to vibrate with an incoming call. She holds her breath for a second, praying it isn’t the florist or the caterers. But when she sees the photo of her and Bellamy from New Year’s flash on the screen, she can’t help but smile.

She taps the button and greets him with a sultry, “Hi, handsome.”

“Hey,” he says and she can tell he has a soft smile on his face, the one just for her. “You just leave the house?”

“Yep. On my way to the hotel now, so hopefully you haven’t forgotten anything because it’s too late now.”

“The most important thing is already on its way,” he responds with a teasing lilt.

Clarke can’t help the sharp laugh that escapes her lips, “Oh my god! You are such a sap!”

“I was referring to the ring, obviously, Princess.”

“Oh, obviously,” she says, mock serious.

They chuckle to themselves for a few minutes and she honestly can’t tell if the driver is rolling his eyes or thinks they’re being cute from hearing one side of the conversation.

Bellamy sobers up first only to let out a groan. “I hate whose ever idea this is,” he whines.

“Aren’t you the history professor? Shouldn’t you know where common traditions and such come from?”

He scoffs, “No, I mean I hate whichever of our friends is making us do this.”

The two of them haven’t seen each other since yesterday morning, him having been spirited off by his groomsmen while she was left to spend last night alone in their bed. And now they’re meant to go one more night without seeing each other.

To Bellamy’s point, Clarke isn’t altogether sure why this is a tradition anymore, nor why they are choosing to follow this particular one. She and Bellamy aren’t even that superstitious! And yet somehow they were talked into spending the days leading up to their wedding apart.

“Ah,” she answers him now, “That would be Raven and Miller. Although, I’m pretty sure it had nothing to do with marriage traditions and has everything to do with getting back at us for making out in front of them so much.”

Bellamy scoffs again, “Well, jokes on them, because after tomorrow, I don’t ever have to stop kissing you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, “We’ll have to come up to eat at some point.”

The driver pulls up under the awning of the hotel and Clarke gets out and grabs her bag before he’s able to get out and grab it for her. She gives him a wave and a simple thank you before heading through the sliding doors.

“How’s your room?” she asks into the phone as she bypasses the check in desk, her mother having already checked her in and given her the key card to her room this morning when they were getting their nails done.

He heaves a deep sigh. “Lonely,” he answers as she steps into the elevator. From what Clarke knows from his texts, Miller dropped him off here last night and left him to his own devices. Apparently, the best man gets to sleep next to his husband but Bellamy wasn’t allowed to sleep next to his soon-to-be wife.

She makes a split second decision and presses a different button, jolting the elevator to stop sooner than intended. When she steps off she casually offers, “I could help with that.”

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles. “You going to describe for me what you’re wearing?”

“Hmm,” she hums as if she’s considering it. “I could do that… but I was more thinking that I could show you.”

Clarke stops in front of a door and gives it a nice rhythmic knock.

She doesn’t have to wait long before it’s opening and Bellamy is standing in front of her with his phone against his ear and a huge grin on his face.

She lowers her own phone from her ear, pressing the end button without looking.

“Hi, handsome,” she manages before he’s pulling her into his room.

[swiftful-thinking13]

Bella I love you sm!!!!! Can you share your secret sessions experience??

enjoy! <3

When I was a young and spry 20 year old, @taylorswift​ stalked this blog for two weeks straight. Leading up to secret session, she liked posts from me every single day around the same time. It was quite literally the most terrifying time of my life. Anyway, one day I was sitting on my couch and I received a DM that changed my entire life. I sprinted downstairs to show my dad, and his response was a very calm and collected, “cool!” I ran into my room and started jumping up and down. The excitement I felt was unmatched. I had three days to mentally, emotionally, and physically prepare for the greatest day of my life. On that faithful Sunday, I made my way to the meeting place. I pulled up to the valet and they asked straight away if I was there for “The Taylor thing.” At this point I had no idea what to expect. I didn’t even want to believe it was actually secret session because I didn’t want to get my hopes up LMAO. Anyway, I checked in and started chatting with a few other girls. This is also when I met one of my best Australian friends aka @in-her-wildest-dreams! I could not BELIEVE that she was there. We were all jittery with excitement when they announced that it was time to start heading over to Taylor’s house. On the bus ride there, they played Taylor’s music so we were all singing along while shitting ourselves. After we arrived at her house, it was announced to us that were at secret session and we all lost our fucking minds. We hung out in her backyard, eating snacks, looking out at the GORGEOUS view from her backyard, and socializing with everyone else. I talked with Tree for awhile, and she was ridiculously nice and welcoming. She asked me where I was from and I said “here” LOL (it was only a half-hour drive from my house). After eating sushi on her jacuzzi ledge, it was time for the ~session~. My friends and I queued up first and we ended up sitting directly in front of her chair. I thought I was actually going to die at this point. I don’t think I let go of my friend’s hand that entire time LOL. Out of nowhere, the whole room erupted in blood-curdling screams. This was the moment. This was it. I turned around, and I spotted my hero in her tall, beautiful, curly-haired glory. Nothing felt real in this moment. I had tears in my eyes and the world moved in slow motion. She had to climb over like 70 people to reach the chair that stood three feet in front of me. This is going to sound weird and creepy, but when she sat down, I could not stop staring at her. She is hands down the most beautiful and electric soul I have ever had the honor of being in the presence of. Her whole aura is warmth. She spoke so eloquently and made everyone feel special for being there. I could have sat there and listened to her talk all day. At this point, I won’t give you any details about what happened during this part because I swore on my life to keep her words and stories private unlike other disloyal, dumbass rep sessioners :) However, I will tell you that Taylor and I danced together, we aggressively sang “gorgeous” to each others’ faces, she sang soooo many lyrics to my face that are branded on my heart forever, she personally asked me to help pass out the rep magazines, she laughed at me at least 5 different times because of my dramatic reactions to her spicy lyrics, and at the end of new year’s day my friends and I bowed at her feet. It was ICONIC. After we heard the album, she left the room and left us to look through the rep magazines. People began lining up to meet her and that’s when I made the conscious decision to stay behind and chill out on her floor with my friend. We couldn’t stop raving about reputation and how perfect it is. We spent at least 2-3 hours sitting on Taylor’s rug and eating snacks until the line died down. Finally, around 12:45am, we got in line. This was the moment I waited for since I was 9 years old. As we stood in line, the girl in front of me kept talking to me, which was annoying because I was trying to draft in my head what I was going to say to Taylor. The funniest moment of the night was when it was the girl in front of me’s turn to meet Taylor and I SHOVED this poor girl into Taylor’s arms. The girl was talking to me while I could see Taylor looking at her so I quickly turned this bitch around and I shoved her into the room. Taylor, TN, and her security all JUMPED LMAO I literally thought they were going to kick me out for doing that but it was chill. The girl behind me was laughing so much because I literally pushed this poor girl into Taylor’s arms kfjgdhsjakl anyway…it was finally my turn and I’ll NEVER forget her face. Her entire being lit up and we went in for a giant hug. It was one of those tight hugs where you sway with the person and hold them for a little too long *maybe I’m tearing up while writing this lmao*. It felt like reuniting with an old friend. I wasn’t nervous at all. I was surprisingly cool, calm, and collected. I told her everything I wanted to tell her and she was as kind and gracious as I could have ever dreamed. She spent the first five minutes of our conversation complimenting ME. She was like “You’re so beautiful! You are SO lovely! You have the most beautiful smile! I love your dress! You are the SWEETEST” and I was just like ??? how the FUCK is this real life rn??? She held my hands the whole time and even complimented my snake ring. She put her hand next to mine and said, “twins!” We were also wearing the same nail polish. I spoke to her about something private and it was just…beautiful? therapeutic? spiritual? it was everything. She could not have been more kind and reassuring. The funniest part of our interaction was when it was time for our picture. She is the one who suggested that we hug in the picture. She said, “you’re so cute and tiny, let’s do a hugging one!” After we got into position, the photographer took the picture and said, “ooop, let’s do another one.” So we took another one. The photographer then said, “Taylor…STOP BLINKING.” Taylor was fucking ADORABLE omg she was like “oh my god, I’m so so sorry!” to me and I was like “GIRL NO WORRIES IT’S FINE” and FINALLY after the third take, we got our picture. I thanked her once again for having me and she hugged me tight and said, “You are the sweetest. Thank you for coming and promise me that you will get home safe?” We exchanged I love you’s and that was that. I was handed a goody bag, ushered back into a van, and was forced to digest what on earth just happened. Her body guard was so kind to me and offered to walk with me back to my car. He asked me if I had a good time and I said “it was the best day of my entire life” and he laughed. I got back to my car at 1:16 am and called my parents to tell them I was on my way home. They said that I was hysterical and completely incoherent, which makes sense. The drive home was a blur and so was the rest of that week. I don’t even remember going to class. All I remember is how loved and special I felt, all thanks to Taylor. After this experience, I feel even more fiercely protective of her than I did before, which I didn’t even think was possible. She’s like a big sister to me. I love her endlessly and I’ll support her until the end of time. 

[trevorbailey61]

The Rolling Stones

The Ricoh Arena, Coventry Saturday 2nd June 2018

It was the lime green suit I remember. Amongst the black leather, denim, kaftans and hippy chic it stood out, which was what the flamboyant character wearing it had wanted. Whilst most had dressed anonymously and practically, for his day out he was going to be seen. He didn’t need to be so extravagant, however, as he was always going to stand out; vast the crowd was but it was not only the brightness of his threads that made him noticed. Whilst those around him in the crowd, those on the stage, those behind the scenes putting it together, in fact pretty well everyone else was white, the man in the green suit was black. Perhaps in anticipating this, he decided that as he carefully put on the suit, tucked in the shirt, sharpened the creases in the trousers and adjusted the lapels of the jacket, to also put a gun into his inside pocket; after all even those still living in the summer of love weren’t averse to a little racism but as it turned out there would be far more sinister forces at work that day. As the sun went down and with the surprisingly small stage barely lit by the lights that had been put up around it, he managed to make his way to the front of the crowd where he makes his first appearance, dancing and looking up towards the figures a few feet above him. When he appears again a few seconds later we see him being stabbed and by the time we see him for a third time being loaded onto a helicopter to take him away, he is dead. We don’t know exactly what happened but as the grainy footage is replayed in slow motion we see him reach into his inside pocket and start to take out the gun he had brought with him. As the blonde girl he is with tries to stop him, the Hells Angel standing just behind him brings down the knife in his hand so that the blade sinks into his neck. The stabbing continues as he falls to the ground where he is lost amongst the leather clad Angels who have come to join the fray. He manages to cling onto life for a few moments after he is dragged clear but the severity of his injuries means that his role in the film was to provide its chilling and violent conclusion.

I first watched this scene projected onto the largest of the then three screens at the Classic cinema in Quinton. As a child, it was somewhere I would visit almost every week; a regular family outing that was usually on a Thursday. It was a typical suburban picture house; it opened just before the war and the art deco design was very much in keeping with those times. I first remember it as the Essoldo; just one single auditorium where my parents always seemed to manage to get seats in the middle of the first two rows of the circle where we could gaze directly at the huge screen in front of us. It was here that I first saw most of the classic Disney cartoons, rereleased just as a new generation of youngsters were able to be ensnared by the mouse, and where the sight of Jenny Agutter removing her red bloomers to stop the approaching train stirred something that I didn’t quite yet understand. Changing its name to the Classic, it ran a Saturday morning film show for children called Louis Lion’s Classic Junior Club where alongside the cartoons that we were really there to see, they also showed some of the Children’s Film Foundation movies that appeared on Screen Test. We queued to see “Diamonds are Forever” and “Live and Let Die” but little other than Bond could fill all those seats and it would soon be divided into three smaller screens. The largest of these was still capable of giving the scale and spectacle of the Star Destroyer as it closed in on the tiny craft in its path and the stunning graphics of the opening credits to “Superman”. By now, however, I was becoming increasingly intrigued by those films that were rated for an age that I hadn’t yet reached and as they never seemed to bother asking for proof of age, The Classic gave me an opportunity to feast on this forbidden fruit. We gorged on the horror of “The Exorcist”, the violence and seediness of “Taxi Driver” and the overwhelming terror of “Apocalypse Now”, films that we would leave reciting those memorable lines: “you looking at me”, “I love the smell of napalm in the morning” and “your mother sucks cocks in hell”. Whether this premature exposure to the disturbing themes of these pictures had any long term effect on me it is probably for others to say. They were all, however, notable films but not all of this furtive behaviour was for high art; we were adolescent lads and one of our first forays into the pleasures of adult cinema was to see something much more carnal; “Emmanuelle”. The approach to the box office was worked out with military precision; rather than arriving as a group we decided we would have a better chance if we bought the tickets individually and being the tallest I was sent in first. With the transaction completed, others would get theirs, the order being decided on how old we felt each person looked. In the end we all managed to get in but making our way up the stairs we ran into another problem when we found ourselves face to face with the mother of one of our friends. Nothing was said but it didn’t have to be; “wait until your parents hear of this” was left in the air as the unspoken threat which meant we never mentioned this encounter. It never occurred to us that she would be the one who was most embarrassed about this; we were the target audience for soft porn like this but what was she doing there.

As the decade wore on and audiences declined, other attempts were made to draw people in, one of which was a post pub screening of films with a more selective appeal on a Friday evening. This probably sounds as if it was another attempt to draw in adolescent boys and lonely men who like to start their weekend with a drunken wank but it is unlikely that this would have attracted the size of audience they wanted. Record companies and studios had been pushing musicians into films for as long as the moving images had been recorded and whoever the manager of the cinema was at the time decided that this Friday night slot was a good opportunity to showcase some of these. The queues that formed outside well before the start time showed that it was an inspired move and whilst at other times of the day you would often find yourself alone, for these screenings the auditorium was invariably packed. It was in there that I first saw “The Song Remains the Same”, “Tommy”, and the unlikely brilliance of Slade in “Flame” where the black country pop yobs pull off a film as dark as “Performance”. The film, however, that I remember most clearly is “Gimme Shelter”, a record of The Stones 1969 tour of America. Following the drug busts and an ill judged attempt at their own summer of love psychedelia, “Jumpin’ Jack Flash”, had put them back on track and clips from the shows at Madison Square Gardens show that they had become a formidable live act. The film, however, needed a grand finale and the real focus is the ominous build up to what was planned to be the west coast Woodstock that would provide this. It was anticipated that the event would be huge, it is estimated that over 300,000 attended, but the planning, bogged down by an unhealthy mix of laid back hippy attitudes and greed, was never up to something of this scale. With Jagger announcing the date of the festival at the New York shows, there was still no location as the negotiations for the original choice in Sonoma had broken down when the owners demanded a share of the film’s profits. With a few days notice, an asphalt track with no toilets and littered with the rusting hulks of abandoned vehicles from demolition derbies was chosen; its name, Altamont, soon coming to represent the death of 60s idealism. With a stage that was just four feet high and lighting that had to run off the site’s limited electrical supply, it is doubtful that most of the audience would have seen or heard much of what was happening on it leaving them to get crazed up on alcohol and the plentiful supply of bad psychedelic drugs. A single rope was the only barrier between the stage and the audience leaving the safety of the performers in the hands of the Bay Area Hells Angels who had been drafted in to provide security. With their Harleys lined up across the front of the stage as a bulwark, their only response to the repeated stage invasions was to use the pool cues they had bought with them to batter the crowd; when Marty Balin of Jefferson Airplane tried to intervene he also received a beating. 

By the time The Stones take to the stage, the consumption of alcohol and drugs without any food or water and the periodic beatings have left the crowd in an ugly mood. The song that most seemed to embody this atmosphere and the outbreaks of violence that resulted was “Sympathy for the Devil” and they do have to abandon the performance of this as the cue wielding Angels make another foray into the crowd when they see some are sitting on their hogs. The dark mythology of the song, however, has it that it also provided the soundtrack to the fatal stabbing although this occurred later during “Under My Thumb”. The myth would prove to be stronger and the song helped to build an aura around the band where they became not just naughty boys with a passion for mars bars and strong drugs but dark satanic lords in league with Lucifer himself; this was in no doubt helped by them citing its bad karma as a reason to leave it out of their set for over seven years after Altamont. Occurring at the end of the film, there was a foreboding inevitability about the killing but what made it so shocking was that it was something I watched in a place that was about presenting illusions, fantasies that capture the imagination allowing us to escape for a couple of hours from the random complexity of everyday life. Even the murderous intent of Travis Bickle or the shadowy world of Colonel Kurtz were a product of the imagination of the director and created by actors. Here, however, the film shows someone losing his life in front of us, a real life and death story intruding into this artificial world.

Nearly fifty years after these events Charlie Watts starts the menacing samba rhythm that opens the portal into the dark heart of The Stones, “please allow me to introduce myself”. Here, however, the mass of humanity is divided into sections, as well as those occupying the stands, the pitch area is fenced off into into three so that those getting closest to the stage have had to shell out an eye watering amount for their advantage. Yellow shirted security patrols both inside and outside the arena, as far as I could see none were brandishing a pool cue and the thorough searches made it impossible to bring in even a small umbrella let alone the gun Meredith Hunter had taken along. The stage rose to a height of at least four times the flimsy surface on which they performed at Altamont meaning that invading it was well beyond the ageing limbs and joints of most of the audience. It was as well ordered and safe as it can be but as the barriers and armed police around the site show, the coming together of so many people means that the risks cannot be completely eliminated. At this distance from the turbulence of the time in which it was created, “Sympathy for the Devil” could be a museum piece, lovingly recreated but lacking any of the dangerous context it once had. And yet those tribal rhythms and spooky “whoo whoos” are still unsettling, even after all this time it can’t quite break free from the myth. Jagger, who had recently returned to the stage after a mini break during Keef’s two songs, played his part, dressed in a long red frock coat and manically contorting his limbs into shapes that no one of his age should be able to pull off to ensure that the sinister intent in the lyrics is still there. It was a spectacular and quite breathtaking moment, adding a freshness to this fifty year old song that made it sound just as relevant to our own turbulent era.

The Stones spent most of the 60s in the shadow of The Beatles but with the Fabs disintegrating at about the time “Sympathy for the Devil” appeared they seized their opportunity with a ferocious burst of creativity that saw them produce four astonishing albums and establish themselves as the foremost live act. It is the period from which much of their current set is taken starting, after the briefest of introductions, with the punchy distortions of “Street Fighting Man”, Richards immediately taking the riff along the catwalk into the audience while his partner prowls the stage behind him. With “Tumbling Dice”, however, any notion that Jagger was pacing himself was quickly dispelled by a sprint to the end of the catwalk without having to pause his vocals to take a breath. The country tinged “Dead Flowers” saw Jagger pick up an acoustic guitar for a rare moment of calm in his hyperactive storm but he quickly discards this to resume his prowling for “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”, the two backing singers perfectly capturing the eerie harmonies. Richards adds a fragile charm to his two songs, “Silver and Gold” and “Happy” whilst Jagger uses “Honky Tonk Woman” to introduce the band and an opportunity to help Charlie Watts celebrate his 77th birthday. A Keef riff is often what launches a Stones song but even for the master, there are few that are as thrilling as the one that opens “Jumpin Jack Flash”, the exhilarating rush of which brought us onto the home straight. Of course, this being The Stones, there were a few reminders of just what another country the past is and whilst some of there more misogamist moments were left out, there was no place for “Under My Thumb”, there was still “Brown Sugar”, a slave owner with a penchant for young black girls and “Midnight Rambler”,  a rapist celebrated as a counter culture outlaw. Despite its questionable content, however, the latter was an unexpected highlight, an extended blues workout that managed to be looser and more absorbing than the recorded version. The images of what looked like a women’s march that accompanied a beautifully haunting “Gimme Shelter” may well have been an attempt to own up to and atone for their past and the song also gave vocalist Sasha Allen an opportunity to head out along the catwalk and show how well she could piece away.

Business, professionalism, music half a century old; it could have been something programmed into a computer and played by holograms. That it isn’t and it still works so spectacularly well is because at its heart are the extraordinary characters who produced it. During “Tumbling Dice” Ronnie Wood makes his way over to the side of the stage where we are sitting, unfortunately at the same time as Jagger decided to make the same move. Seeing his path was blocked, Jagger pushes him out of the way, nothing will stop him making a move he has already started. It was a small incident that showed two things: first despite all the programming and planning, there was still a looseness and spontaneity about the show, there were no markings on the stage and two performers could end up in the same place because that is what happens. Secondly it also emphasised that there is still a strict hierarchy, Wood has been a Stone since 1975, many years longer than his predecessors Brian Jones and Mick Taylor combined, and the fluency of his guitar is integral to the sound, even on the songs made before he joined. He remains, however, the new boy, the one who can be pushed around, the one who could look up at the huge screens during one of his blistering solos to see the image of Keith Richards quietly strumming away. Even he, however, must recognise that it is those with whom he shares the stage who are mainly responsible for the longevity of the band. The irresistible showmanship of Mick Jagger and the miracle of human endurance that is Keith Richards, both have tried to go it alone to limited success, together, however, they are invincible. Seeing them live, however, brings home that the Glimmer Twins are only part of the story, there is another without whom the band would not exist. They carried on without Brian Jones and the person they brought into replace him, the departure of Bill Wyman caused barely a shrug but take Charlie Watts away and the whole edifice would collapse. With other drummers having to put down their sticks for good, at 77 Watts is still there on a raised platform at the back of the stage where he quietly watches everything that he is holding together. Despite the decades of going to concerts, the closest I had come to seeing the Stones was in a cinema in Quinton late one Friday night, I had even managed to convince myself that they were past it but they were never going to cross themselves off the bucket list and announcing this show at The Ricoh, one of the most intimate stadium venues, meant there was no longer any reason not to see them. Yes it was expensive, yes it was big and corporate, yes the quality of the show you saw depended very on how much you could spend but this was The Stones and as they once sang, “this could be the last time”.