#which gave me the perfect chance to share this anecdote

[fictionadventurer]

NaPoWriMo #19: A poem recounting a historical event

To a Man Commenting Upon Lincoln's Homely Features

Abraham Lincoln knew quite well He had never been beauty-graced. When Douglas met him in debate And told him he was quite two-faced, Old Lincoln made a quick reply With his usual sense of fun: "If I'd another face to wear, Do you think I would wear this one?"

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

Crossed Scripts-Drew Starkey

Chapter 12

∘₊✧────────────────────────✧₊∘

Cassie woke up to sunlight flooding her apartment, but instead of her usual groggy dread for Monday mornings, there was something else: anticipation. Her coffee date with Drew was only hours away, and despite her best efforts to play it cool, her nerves were starting to show.

After spending the morning tidying up her apartment and half heartedly responding to a few work emails, Cassie found herself standing in front of her closet, staring blankly at her clothes.

"What do you even wear to a casual date with Drew Starkey?" she muttered to herself.

Her phone buzzed on the bed, interrupting her thoughts.

Monica: "So...what are you wearing for this 'totally casual and not at all a date' coffee thing?"

Cassie groaned and shot back a quick reply:

"Haven't figured that out yet. Help."

Seconds later, Monica FaceTimed her.

Cassie picked up, holding the phone at an unflattering angle. "You couldn't just text?"

Monica ignored the question, her face lighting up on the screen. "I need to see your options. Come on, model them for me."

After several minutes of debating between outfits that ranged from too formal to too casual, Cassie finally decided on something safe: a cream sweater, fitted jeans, and her favorite boots.

"Perfect," Monica said with a nod of approval. "Now, remember, you're fabulous, he's clearly into you, and you've got this. Also, if he messes up, I'll fight him."

Cassie laughed, shaking her head. "Thanks for the pep talk, but it's just coffee."

"Sure it is," Monica said, smirking. "Text me everything after."

⊹₊⟡⋆

Cassie arrived at the café with a nervous energy that wasn't helped by the smell of fresh espresso and baked goods. She glanced at her watch, 5:02 PM. Drew was late, which gave her a second to sit by the window and sip her latte, calming her nerves.

When the bell above the door chimed, she looked up and saw Drew stepping in, scanning the room until his eyes landed on her. His easy smile disarmed her instantly.

"Hey," he greeted as he walked over, holding a to-go cup. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic."

Cassie smiled, shaking her head. "You're barely late. I'll forgive you this time."

Drew chuckled, sitting across from her. "Appreciate your mercy."

Their conversation flowed as effortlessly as always, transitioning from light topics to deeper ones. Drew shared funny anecdotes about filming Outer Banks, and Cassie told him about her excitement (and nerves) for the Dune sequel.

"So, you never told me," Drew said, leaning forward. "What was it like working on so many horror movies? They must be intense."

"Honestly? It was terrifying," Cassie admitted. "Even though I knew everything was fake, the atmosphere on set was so creepy. I couldn't sleep properly for a week after."

"Noted," Drew said with mock seriousness. "No haunted house dates for you."

Cassie laughed, shaking her head. "Definitely not. I'm more of a flowers and picnic kind of girl."

⊹₊⟡⋆

After an hour of talking and laughing, Drew suggested they take a walk. Cassie agreed, grateful for the fresh air and the chance to prolong their time together.

The streets were busy with the hum of evening life. They strolled side by side, occasionally bumping shoulders as they passed shops and vendors.

"Oh, wait," Cassie said suddenly, stopping in front of a small florist stand.

She stepped closer to the display, her eyes drawn to a bouquet of white peonies and pale pink roses.

"These are so pretty," she murmured, running her fingers lightly over the petals.

Drew watched her for a moment, then turned to the vendor. "How much for those?"

Cassie blinked, turning to him. "What? Drew, no, you don't have to-"

"I want to," he interrupted with a shrug, already pulling out his wallet.

Before she could protest further, he handed her the bouquet, the corners of his mouth lifting into a soft smile. "Consider it a thank you for today. And, you know, for forgiving me for being 'late.'"

Cassie stared at him, caught between embarrassment and gratitude. "You didn't have to do this."

"I know," he said simply.

She hugged the bouquet to her chest, her cheeks warm. "Thank you. They're beautiful."

⊹₊⟡⋆

As they continued their walk, the flowers in Cassie's arms became an unexpected icebreaker with strangers.

"Nice bouquet!" one older woman called out as they passed.

"Thanks," Drew answered before Cassie could. "I picked it myself."

Cassie rolled her eyes but couldn't stop smiling. "You're impossible."

By the time they circled back toward her neighborhood, the sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting the streets in a golden glow.

⊹₊⟡⋆

The sun had set by the time they reached Cassie's building, the golden hour giving way to a calm, dusky evening. Cassie carried her flowers with care, her cheeks still warm from Drew's thoughtful gesture earlier.

"Thanks for the ride," she said, unlocking the front door of her apartment. "And the flowers. And...basically the whole day."

Drew leaned against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets. "Well, thanks for letting me crash your evening plans. But I feel like I owe you a proper movie night now."

Cassie smirked, opening the door wider. "Are you saying you want to come in and prove you can pick a good movie?"

"Absolutely," Drew said with a grin.

With a small laugh, she stepped aside, letting him in.

⊹₊⟡⋆

Cassie set the flowers on her kitchen counter, rummaging through a cabinet for a vase. Drew stood nearby, leaning on the counter and watching her.

"Honestly, I just love your apartment, such a nice place," he said, glancing around.

"Thanks," Cassie said, filling the vase with water. She felt Drew's eyes on her, the weight of his presence making her acutely aware of the small space between them.

"You really liked the flowers, huh?" Drew asked, his voice softer now.

Cassie looked at him, holding the bouquet in her hands. "Yeah, I did. You didn't have to do that, you know."

"I know," he said, his gaze meeting hers. "But I wanted to."

The air in the room shifted, a quiet tension filling the space. Cassie swallowed hard, unsure if it was the wine earlier or the way Drew was looking at her, but something emboldened her.

"Drew-" she started, but before she could finish, he stepped closer, his hands resting lightly on the counter behind her.

"You've got this way of looking at people," he said, his voice low. "Like you see right through them."

Cassie's breath caught, her heart pounding in her chest. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Not at all," Drew murmured, his eyes dropping to her lips.

He leaned in slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away but she didn't. Instead, she tilted her head up, closing the gap between them. Their lips met in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened, the day's unspoken energy finally breaking free.

Drew's hands found her waist, pulling her closer as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The bouquet of flowers was forgotten, teetering on the edge of the counter.

Their movements grew more urgent, Drew's fingers pressing into her hips as he kissed her like he'd been holding back for hours. Cassie tugged at his hoodie, pulling him even closer until her back bumped against the counter.

She broke the kiss with a gasp, her lips swollen and her heart racing. "This wasn't part of the plan," she said breathlessly.

Drew smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Plans are overrated."

Cassie laughed, her fingers trailing down his chest. "Fair point."

⊹₊⟡⋆

The two of them stood there for a moment, the intensity ebbing slightly but the connection still strong.

"Should we..." Drew began, nodding toward the living room.

"Watch a movie?" Cassie asked, her lips curving into a playful smile.

"Yeah," he said, chuckling. "Or else we're going to end up making out on every piece of furniture in here."

Cassie rolled her eyes but couldn't help laughing. "Alright, let me grab the snacks."

Drew leaned against the counter, watching her with a mix of amusement and affection. The flowers sat in their vase now, a quiet reminder of the thoughtful gesture that had started all of this.

As Cassie grabbed popcorn from the pantry, she felt Drew's gaze on her again. She turned back to him, her cheeks still flushed.

"This is going to be the weirdest movie night ever, isn't it?" she said.

"Definitely," Drew replied, grinning. "But I'm okay with that."

And as they moved to the living room, the tension between them lingered, promising that this was only the beginning.

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 3

A/N As promised, Jamie returns in this chapter.  He has an appointment to keep, after all.   Because I can’t think of anything more creative, this chapter is entitled “Second Appointment”.  For previous chapters, your best bet is to check out the story on my AO3 page.

The week both crept and flew past, like one of those dreams in which she ran until her lungs burned, but never managed to get anywhere.  Kinetic motion trapped in amber.   Claire never did tell Geillis about her excursion to Corstorphine Hill over the weekend, embarrassed by how it had ended.  

And now it was Thursday.  She’d opted for a protein smoothie for lunch, a meal with no chance of leaving leafy residue between her teeth.  It was likely wasted vanity.  As two o’clock drew near, she bargained with herself to abandon any hope she may be harbouring.  Jamie Fraser had shown no interest in participating in the psychiatric process during his first appointment.  Fraternal obligation had brought him to her office once, but he didn’t strike her as a man who yielded the reins of his life easily.  It wasn’t likely he would return.

When it came his distinctive knock, crisp and insistent, caught her unawares, even though she’d just been staring at his name in her planner.  She hastily pushed the items on her desk to one side, patted uselessly at her curls, and called out for him to enter.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Beauchamp,” he greeted cautiously.  “Miss Duncan told me tae come straight in.”

There was something different about him today.  His clothing, certainly.  Instead of casual wear, he wore trousers and a button down, wet splotches over the shoulders attesting to the fact that it had begun raining again.  And while he still took up an inordinate amount of space in her small office, he seemed... diminished, somehow.  A paler echo of the fireworks display of his first visit.

“Of course.  Please have a seat, Mister Fraser.”

“Jamie, if you will,” he corrected as he settled gingerly into the armchair.  “Mister Fraser was my Da.”

Something about his tone and the fact his laser blue eyes wouldn’t meet her own as he spoke the words caused her to lean into his statement.

“Did your father pass away recently, Jamie?”

A moment, an indrawn breath of panic, and then it was cleverly masked with a wry glance.

“Aye, last year.  An’ yer no’ very subtle, doctor.”

“I didn’t realize subtlety was called for,” she parried.  “You made another appointment, and I specialize in grief counselling.  Why else would you be here?”

Despite the fact that it wasn’t productive from a psychiatric point of view, she enjoyed his reluctance to hastily expose his inner demons.  Too often, her practice required her to work carefully in order to avoid shaping the pliable emotions of her patients.  While obviously hurting, Jamie had an unflinching, unalterable quality that she admired.  Not to mention that the intellectual game of cat and mouse they were playing was wildly stimulating.

“I suppose I enjoyed our conversation,” Jamie teased.  “An’ Miss Duncan’s shortbread.”

With an awkward squint that she imagined was meant to be a wink, her patient rose to investigate the current offerings on her tea table.

“Och, petit fours!” he exclaimed with childlike glee and perfect French pronunciation.  “There was a café none too far from my flat in Paris tha’ made these.  I’d often grab some on my way tae the office.”

He returned to the desk with a small plate of the pastries, pushing it towards her as he settled into his seat.

“No, thank you.  I’ve just eaten.”

Like a searchlight, his bright eyes didn’t miss much.  He glanced significantly at the half-empty plastic smoothie container to one side of her desk.  Rather than chide her for her austerity, as Geillis frequently did, he instead made a show of biting into each of the four little squares until there was nothing left but crumbs.  Her stomach muttered in complaint.

“What did you do in Paris?” she asked as he finished his snack with a contented sigh.

“Oh, a wee bit of this and that,” he demurred.  In response to her exasperated look, he continued, “I started out at the Bourse.  Futures, options, arbitrage, that sort of thing.  I have a good ear fer languages, sae from there I went into foreign exchange.  Import export, and the like.”

“You’re a financier?” she asked, somewhat more incredulous than she ought to be.  She wasn’t certain what she had pictured James Fraser doing for a living, but greasing the wheels of capitalism definitely wasn’t it.

“Was,” he corrected.  “I quit an’ came home tae Scotland last year.”

“When your father died,” she guessed.

“Aye.”

She once again had the sense of standing in front of a locked door that Jamie had no intention of opening.  Rather than hammer uselessly on its stubborn surface, she nimbly diverted the conversation sideways.

“What do you do for work now?”

A slow blink followed by a dawning smile indicated he was aware of her stratagem.

“I’m a carpenter.”

It was rare for Claire to be truly surprised by people.  She made a living reading their unspoken cues.  Twice in the same conversation was unheard of.

“A carpenter?” she repeated as though she hadn’t heard him perfectly well the first time.

“Aye.  Like Jesus, ye ken?”

With a quicksilver grin, Jamie launched into a description of his current occupation, which involved the making of reproduction antiques and custom pieces for clients around Scotland.  She realized with a start that she’d read an article about his business in a popular local magazine.  

International financier.  Self-made entrepreneur.  Tall drink of water.  James Fraser had a lot of things going for him.  And yet here he sat, paying her by the hour to listen to him avoid talking about whatever hardship had befallen him.

She mentally composed a list of the topics he was deftly avoiding with his charming anecdotes.  His father’s recent death.  The reason behind a radical change in career.  Living in the city on account of unspoken ‘family obligations’, even though his verbal reminiscence of the Highlands was so poetic it damn near made her cry.  There was something raw just below the surface of his nonchalance, and her innate curiosity cried out to find out what it was.

“You told me last week that your sister, Jenny, insisted you attend counselling.  But you said that you’re handling matters fine on your own.  Can you tell me why your sister believes otherwise?”

It might have been amusing to see such a large man squirm in different circumstances.  His left hand furrowed through his hair, setting the autumn waves on end.  His mouth, so recently relaxed and mobile as he eagerly shared the details of his craft, froze in a pained frown.  She considered whether she had pushed too hard too soon.

“I gave a lot of thought tae what ye said when we parted last week,” Jamie began at last.  “Tae be honest, it haunted me.  Jen kens me better than anyone, an’ while I like tae complain tha’ she meddles where she doesna belong, the truth is she’s truly scared fer me.  An’ even if I dinna agree tha’ my lifestyle is cause fer concern, I owe it tae her tae try tae sort myself out.  I owe her far more than that,” he finished with a rueful shake of his head.

“What kind of lifestyle has your sister so worried?” she probed.

“Whisky, women and song,” he quipped, before adding, “Weel, I canna carry a tune, but twa out of three isna half bad.”

He tried to smile away the awkward tension that descended on the office, the air ripe with unspoken words.  Claire felt disappointment whirlpool in her gut.  Just another charming rake, after all.  It really shouldn’t matter, and yet somehow it did.  More than she dared to admit.

“Yes, well, the road of excess leads to the palace of consequences, ” she sniffed at last, angry at herself for sounding like a schoolmarm.  What a bore she must seem to him, with her regimented behaviour and rigid morals.

Jamie rose abruptly, and for a half-second she imagined he might lunge at her, or storm from the room.   Instead, he spun around to face the door.  Without a word, he untucked his shirt and began to expose his lower back.

Claire was momentarily stunned silent.  Just as she managed to draw a deep enough breath to censure Jamie for his highly inappropriate strip tease, the golden velour of his lower back transformed without warning into a furrowed landscape of scar tissue, ripples and craters left by some massive trauma.  The air left her lungs on a questioning sigh.

“I ken all about consequences, Doctor Beauchamp,” he stated.  “I live with them every moment of my life.”

Her fingers found the knotted skin, surprisingly warm and mobile beneath her touch.  A shiver shimmered over the unmarred muscle of his flanks.

Before she could find any appropriate words of apology, the office door opened and Geillis stuck her head in.  She barked a cough upon seeing Jamie’s state of undress and Claire’s position, leaning across her desk.  Doctor and patient jumped apart like opposing magnets.

“Sae sorry for the interruption, but yer three o’clock is here.  Should I tell her ye’ve been... delayed?”

Jamie muttered an obscenity under his breath which Claire whole-heartedly seconded.  There was no way Geillis wasn’t going to be utterly insufferable about this.

“Mister Fraser was just leaving, Geillis.”

With a lewd wink and a nod, the door closed.

“Look, Jamie...” she began just as he apologized.  “I’m sae sorry, lass.”

They both laughed nervously.  Jamie finished tucking his shirt into his pants and turned to face the desk.

“I hope this willna cause ye any difficulties with Miss Duncan,” he began, eyes wide with concern.

“No more so than usual,” she sighed. “Geillis is a good friend.  She just... doesn’t know when to quit, sometimes,” she explained.

“Sounds jus’ like my sister.  Perhaps we should introduce them.”

She smiled, struggling to find something else to say to move past the moment.  She could hear Geillis and her next patient conversing just outside the door.  There was no time left for subtlety.

“Will I see you again next week, Jamie?” she asked, giving up on finding a more oblique way of phrasing the question that was reverberating through her mind.

Jamie’s bashful smile dipped towards the floor, causing his hair to fall in front of his eyes.

“Aye.  I’ll even keep my clothes on, if ye ask nicely.”

It was that smile, that hair, those eyes, that carried her through the rest of her week, aloft on the anticipation of something utterly forbidden.

[reinerispretty]

just a little jealous. (sokka x f!reader)

hi i really love your work and i was wondering if you could do a sokka (or zuko cos it could work) that takes place right around when zuko joins the gaang and reader starts spending more time with zuko and sokka gets jealous cos he's lowkey had feelings for you for a while and his jealousy turns into anger to you but then it ends in like soft uwu fluff. i hope this made sense lolz!

thank u for requesting this!!!! i am very very excited about it ehehe

Their faces were just barely apart. He let his eyes flutter shut and leaned in further to press his lips to hers, but instead of being met with a kiss, (Y/N) shoved him backward so he fell into the river.

“You’re such an idiot!”

Sokka was unhappy. The whole group could tell. Ever since Zuko had joined their group, a frown had been permanently etched into his features. “Your face is going to get stuck like that,” Aang had joked, but Sokka just gave him a sour look and stalked away. Everyone had decided to avoid him from that point. 

Especially (Y/N), which hadn’t been his intention at all. It was just...(Y/N) was Fire Nation as well. She had joined through group a long time ago, as a runaway military recruit, and it had taken Sokka a bit to warm up to her but once he had, she was all he thought about. And now since Zuko was here, the two of them had started bonding over Fire Nation things that Sokka had no idea about. He didn’t know what half the things they were talking about were and it made him so upset. (Y/N) was his friend, not Zuko’s! Zuko was a recently reformed bad guy, while Sokka had always been the good guy! Why couldn’t she see that? 

He knew he should be happy for her. He imagined that she had felt a little isolated in their group, since she had no one else to share her culture with. At the beginning, they had each rebuffed some of anecdotes about her time in the Fire Nation, so eventually she stopped sharing them altogether. During their stay in the Fire Nation, she had opened back up again, and Sokka had been absolutely enthralled with her stories. The animated way she talked about her childhood absolutely captivated him. He could listen to her for hours. 

He hadn’t meant to push (Y/N) away, but he was just so frustrated and he wasn’t sure how to vocalize it. She had tried with him the other night. She had sat right next to him at dinner and smiled her sweet smile and he felt both elated and angry, because how many times had Zuko seen that smile? 

“Everything alright?” She asked him, noticing the annoyed expression on his face. Sokka didn’t answer, choosing to stare at his rice instead. “I’ve missed talking to you.” He scoffed. He had scoffed at her! 

“Sure doesn’t seem like it, with all the time you’re spending with your new best friend.” Her brows furrowed together, her bottom lip jutting out in a small pout. Sokka wanted to kiss it away. 

“What is this about?” She demanded. Sokka tossed his bowl of food to the ground and stood. Momo leapt forward to eat it up. 

“You Fire Nation are all the same. You stick with your kind, right? Even if they’ve tried to kill your friends?” 

“Sokka,” Zuko spoke up. “If you have a problem with me being here, you can talk to me about it. Don’t take it out on (Y/N).” 

“I’ll take it out on the both of you!” Sokka exclaimed, shocking the rest of the group into silence. “Your nation is full of privileged people who don’t care about anyone but themselves!” 

“That’s not true!” (Y/N) stared up at Sokka, her face contorted in an expression mixed with confusion and hurt. 

“I thought you were different,” Sokka mumbled, and then he walked off to the rooms within the Air Temple. He’s aware of how harsh he was. How unfair he was. But his thoughts and feelings were so tangled up at the moment that he wasn’t even sure what he was feeling now. 

His relationship with Zuko had repaired itself somewhat naturally. Zuko understood the torment the Fire Nation had put Sokka through. They took away his mother and caused him to grow up without his father around. They had caused Sokka nothing but pain for the majority of his life. So Zuko was a little more forgiving of his outburst. 

(Y/N), on the other hand, would not speak to Sokka at all. He thought this was much worse than her giving Zuko more attention than he liked. Every time they were within the same vicinity of each other, she’d stop what she was doing and find someone else to be around. She wouldn’t even look at him!

One day, while she was cleaning the laundry by the riverbank, Sokka tiptoed behind her and sat at her side. She looked away from him immediately, hurriedly gathering her clothes to take back up to the camp, but Sokka grabbed her by the wrists. “Please, (Y/N), just let me apologize!” 

“Is that what my people would do?” She snapped, and Sokka had never heard her voice so full of venom before. 

“I’m sorry,” He sighed. “I didn’t mean what I said. But I’m sorry for saying it and most of all I’m sorry for hurting you.” 

“If you didn’t mean it, why’d you say it?” 

“Because...because I was jealous.” 

“Of what?” 

“You and Zuko, you guys know all the Fire Nation stuff! You have things that you can talk about that I can’t even compete with, and ever since he joined you’ve been talking to him more and more and I guess I was jealous.” 

“Why would you be jealous because of me and Zuko?” She furrowed her brows and Sokka groaned. How was she still not getting it? 

“Because I love you, okay? I love you and I don’t like it when you spend more time with guys who aren’t me. I know it’s stupid but I didn’t want Fire Nation Prince over there to sweep you off your feet before I got the chance and-” Oh, (Y/N) was so close now. Their faces were just barely apart. He let his eyes flutter shut and leaned in further to press his lips to hers, but instead of being met with a kiss, (Y/N) shoved him backward so he fell into the river. 

“You’re such an idiot!” She shouted at him, before grabbing her laundry and storming back up to the camp. Sokka floated in the water. 

“I deserved that.” 

It was the next day that he and Zuko decided to fly to the Boiling Rock to perform their rescue mission. After many mishaps, they managed to rescue his father, Suki, and free another prisoner as well. When they returned, the rest of the group stared at them in awe as they hopped off of the war balloon. 

“Where have you guys been?” Katara asked, but she rushed forward as soon as she saw her father. 

(Y/N) stared disapprovingly at Sokka as he approached her. “I was worried,” She mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m glad you’re okay.” 

Sokka knew her well enough to tell that while he was gone, her anger had worn off. He smiled brightly at her. “Does this means you forgive me?” 

“This means I love you too, but don’t think for a second that I’m not still mad at you.” Sokka grinned, placing a hand at the back of her neck and pulling her toward him, sealing their lips together. She grabbed onto his shirt so that he would be as close as humanly possible. Sokka was content, and the best part was that they were in perfect view of Zuko, who would definitely step off (Y/N) now. 

---

Tag List!

@beifongsss , @aroyaldarknessblr , @musicalkeys , @thefandomimagines , @blondie0458 , @kairiririri , @awesomelupe , @zukosvice , @tomshollandz , @lavendercrystals , @astralsaf , @realimbo , @mycollectionofnuts , @wingeddemonclub , @gingersnap126126 ,

[scribeofmorpheus]

Himmeløyne [27/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N: Wowieeee, it's been a long time since I've written a chapter this long. It feels like the old days. But also, I wrote this without my glasses, so... there will be errors.

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Y/N

“Do you think we’ll be hanged?” Fandral asked from his cell. It wasn’t intended as a question to the room. From his tone, he certainly wasn’t in the mood for conversation, but in need of anything besides the quiet of the prison area. “I think I’d hate a hanging. There hasn’t been one in centuries. You think it will be public?”

In the parallel cell, Sif paced about. Checking the golden barriers of her cage and then pounding her fists against the barrier couple of times. Each hit barely made a sound, let alone a dent. Adjacent to your own cell, Heimdall struggled to stay upright. He looked won out. In need of a long, long sleep. Normally, seeing him in distress would make you worry, but nothing felt normal with the amulet on.

“I’m not sure I’d prefer banishment either,” Fandral kept speaking.

“At least you’ get to keep your pretty head,” Volstagg chimed in, annoyed. His face was getting redder. It seemed his friend's ruminations were becoming tiresome to listen to. “Which is better than what I’ll do to you if you don’t shut up for a minute!”

“Yggdrasil’s branches!” Sif huffed. “I can’t hear myself think with you all yapping like starved pups!”

Her tone was different from everyone else’s. Sharper. That made them afraid. Talking was a way to keep distracted. With Sif’s outburst, everyone was forced to face that silence they were too afraid to let settle. Well, everyone except Heimdall and Hogun. You, on the other hand, weren’t feeling much of anything. Strange…

“Leave them be, Sif,” Hogun said softly. His face was calm, legs crossed at the ankle as he reclined comfortably on his cot, eyes closed. “Everything will work itself out.”

“You sound so certain,” she seemed surprised. “Why?”

“Because,” Hogun stretched, sitting up on crossed legs. “One way or another, everything always reaches a conclusion.”

 Fandral let out a shaky laugh, “You’re a real comfort.”

 Hogun shrugged, “Could be worse. You could have had Thor for a cellmate. You know how he hates small spaces. Especially if he’s confined in said small places.”

Sif tried to fight her smile, a reminiscent look on her face. All the warriors had it. Even Heimdall. It must have been a shared memory. Before your time.

“That big oaf,” Sif finally let her teeth show through the smile.

As the others began to trade anecdotes from the past, mainly about Thor’s claustrophobia and a previous stint in prison, Heimdall scooted closer to you, his back pressed up against the barrier o his cell, head turned at an angle to meet your eyes.

“Are you alright?” he squinted at the amulet and then focused on your face. He was searching for something, you weren’t quite sure he found. A moment later, he sighed. “Can you even hear me?”

Yes, you said. But he didn’t respond. He didn’t hear.

He wasn’t discouraged by his inability to communicate two ways with you. He soldiered through and found another question to ask, “Does it hurt?”

It doesn’t feel like anything, you said. Again, he didn’t hear.

He was frowning now, asking question after question as if the right one would get you to open your mouth. A task so simple, yet so difficult to do.

Minutes passed—or maybe hours—when guards came to round everyone out of their cells. Everyone except you. There was a commotion. Some unpleasant words exchanged. Someone tried to rile up the Captain from before. She ignored them, acting above reproach. An impenetrable shield, shining with true Asgardian worth. The guards never lowered your cell’s barrier, and after another minute—or hour—you finally registered that you were alone in the prison ward. It didn’t bother you though. Nothing did. Not even the spot of blood that marked the spot where two guards were knocked unconscious by Loki’s hands. Two more stood slack, in a headlock between Thor’s large arms. Frigga was with them too, casting sleep spells on the last few on guard duty.

The barrier to your cell faded in the blink of an eye.  Faster than lightning, Loki rushed to your side, cradling your body against his own. He felt strong, like an anchor in the impossible storm. Smiling seemed the right thing to do, but you weren’t sure if you managed to.

He was trembling, his body hot from exertion. He kept his voice a whisper, his words only for you. “When I saw that the cells were empty, I thought… I don’t know what I thought. But you’re here. I wasn’t too late. I found you again. I have you in my arms again and I promise not to let go. Never to let go.”

Those words should have meant the world. You should have been elated. Relieved. But there was still nothing.

When you didn’t reply or lean into his touch, Loki pulled back to study you. He tugged at the clasp, but the amulet refused to separate. It took a while for Frigga to understand what was happening, to notice the amulet for what it was.

As Loki turned to use his magic against the amulet’s hold, Frigga raised a hand in warning, “No, Loki, wait—”

Loki’s magic was invasive to the amulets, and you felt the ancient device retaliate, slapping his magic away. He was knocked back on his ass before Frigga could finish her sentence.

She knelled next to you, tearing a piece of fabric from her skirts and chanting below a whisper. The fabric began to shimmer, imbued with magical essence.

“The amulet siphon’s magic, drains the wearer and attacks anyone who tries to take it off,” she explained. “You have to trick it into focusing its curse on something else, and then…” She wrapped the fabric around her hand and used it to unclasp the amulet. As it fell, the fabric was turned to nothing in a flash of cold fire. The amulet dropped onto the floor. Loki and Frigga were cautious not to touch it.

You shuddered to life. Everything bright and real. The floor was cold. Your body was every bit as tired as you remembered. And the pull of Loki’s magic returned. Beautiful. Right.

He rushed to hold you again, and this time you reciprocated. Wrapping your arms around his midriff and clinging onto him as if he were the source of all life.

“I love you,” you said abruptly.

The air left his lungs. His chest grew still. Unmoving. You loved how that sounded. His heart racing. Your words. Everything about that imperfect moment suddenly became perfect.

You laughed, euphoric. “I really do. I love you.”

You looked up to him, saw his shock and adoration and a mix of every look he’d ever given you worn under one instant. His lips quivered. He tried to speak. To breath. But he was stunned in silence.

“I regretted not telling you before,” you kissed him. Your body finding solace in the proximity. Your heart beating strong and steady, in a way it never had before. In a way that promised forever. To love forever. To live forever. To be near him forever. You had forgotten what it felt like to be exhilarated. To actually cherish each heartbeat. And, as if a flood had passed over your body, you felt renewed. Loved. You poured all of yourself into the kiss, into him. And he drank gleefully. Greedily.

“Ahem!” Thor cleared his throat, obviously flustered from witnessing you and Loki’s moment. “I’m… Uh—I’ll just… be… over there… keeping watch for patrols.” He stalked over to the staircase and pretended to keep watch. Cheeks turning tomato red.

The kiss finally broke and you both needed more than a few seconds to fill your lungs with air again.

Loki grinned from ear to ear, “To think, I’ve waited countless of your lifetimes to feel this way about anyone, and you only needed the one. I knew I was missing something since I was a little boy. You restored that part of me. Gave me the chance to see that I could be something whole. You’ve healed a broken prince, and I wish I could give you more but… I suppose… this will have to do…” He trailed off, staring intently at your face. “I’ll love you fiercely for every lifetime I spent without you. Half-mortal or not, I’ll love you a thousand year’s worth every moment of every day. For as long as we have.”

“That’s a big promise.”

“No. It’s just what you deserve.”

“Then you deserve the same. It goes both ways, so that makes two thousand year’s worth.”

He arched his brow, some of that self-assuredness he used to carry with him returned. “That’s technically not true.”

A mounted torch holder fell off the wall with a loud clang! Everyone turned to see Thor kicking the polished bronze ornament into a darkened corner. He held up his hands in a silent apology. Loki rolled his eyes.

“My brother with his insightful contribution,” Loki said, tongue-in-cheek. Loud enough for Thor to hear this time, he asked: “Would you like to make a little more noise? I don’t think every guard in the lower levels heard you.”

“I just might,” Thor grumbled, placing his hand close to another torch holder. Daring his brother to say another word.

“I don’t mean to cut this short,” Frigga interjected, helping you up off the floor. “But if we mean to do this, we must get to the others before Odin has had time to pass judgement. After that his will is paramount. Not even the Rite of Conscription will save your companions.”

You wobbled on your feet and Loki instinctively slinked an arm around your waist. You leaned into him.

“What is the Rite of Conscription?” you turned to Loki.

He frowned, “It’s… It’s the best of my bad ideas. Conscription can only be evoked by senior members of the Asgardian royal family. Once enacted, it places a subject in a position of servitude. They become agents of the court and crown. And it also means, they cannot be tried as traitors. Once conscripted, they have full protection under the King, or, in this case, Queen.”

“Sounds simple enough,” you said. Loki’s expression didn’t reassure though. “But… it’s not, is it?”

 “No. Conscription for you, given how little we know about your true lifespan, it could end up being a life sentence.”

“But I have no home to return to. No family besides Heimdall…” you felt a wave of dizziness and had to clutch onto Loki’s jacket to keep steady. His fingers found yours. He twined them together, holding them close to his chest. You looked up at him. “Up until recently, I was ready to accept Asgard as my new home. For good.”

“But it wouldn’t just be you, my dear,” Frigga pointed out. “We’d have to conscript them all to Asgard’s service. Forever. They’d never have the chance to become anything different in the future. Neither would you.”

A life of servitude in exchange for freedom from Odin’s unpredictable wrath. Or was it his illogical fear? If you had to make the choice alone, you wouldn’t hesitate, even if it landed you in a precarious position in the future. But you couldn’t dare play arbiter of fate over everyone else’s lives. That would be selfish. And you’d be no better than Odin.

“I don’t think I can agree to this,” you said solemnly. “If it was only me that had to make the decision, then… maybe. But, I was only just beginning to get to know everyone. I don’t want to be a source of tension. And Heimdall’s the only family I have left. From what he’s told me, of the Great War, of his people, conscription would be a cruel thing to do without even talking to him about it. This whole mess started because of scheming and secrecy. We can’t continue that pattern.”

Frigga’s eyes flitted to your hand interlocked with Loki’s, a new thought percolating to the surface. “Family,” she murmured.

“What?” you asked.

“Handfasting!” she said hastily, her voice the loudest you’d ever heard it.

Loki’s eyes went large, “You can’t mean…”

Frigga nodded, taking one of your hands in each of her own.

“We don’t have a priestess,” Loki spoke too quick, anxious.

“I don’t—” you tried to get a word in, but Frigga talked over you.

“It’s the best alternative. At the very least, it will grant us a year of peace. A year we can use to persuade Odin to forgive whatever transgressions he found so grave that he’d risk imprisoning the protector of the Bi-frost. I know him. If he truly wanted this, he’d have acted without hesitancy. This—” she gestured towards the prison “—this is all to buy time. He’s undecided. So we must decide for him.”

Loki brushed off her explanation, unwilling to listen, “He’s the king. His will is law. If he truly didn’t want this, he wouldn’t have done it.”

Frigga shook her head, a wizened edge hanging on her words, “Only tyrants rule in that manner. And he is not his father.”

“What does Bor have to do with any of this?” Loki said, eyeing his mother suspiciously. She dismissed his prying with a flick of her wrist. She did it with the same flourish that Loki did.

You looked to Thor then back to Frigga, lost. “Is anyone going to tell me what handfasting is, or—”

“It’s a marriage,” Thor blurted out.

Now it was your turn to go silent.  

“Subtle, brother. Thank you for that,” Loki chided. He placed his attentions back on you in an effort to explain things more smoothly, avoiding your gaze. “Handfasting isn’t exactly as binding as marriage. Handfasting is like… a trial period. It was used in arranged marriages to see if the betrothed were… agreeable. It was also a way to end disputes politically. Give the respective sides time to assess and recuperate.”

“I see,” was all you could muster, your voice small.

“In fact, Odin and I were handfasted,” Frigga said. “And if you have any doubts, remember, as Loki said, it isn’t binding. But as a betrothed, your family gains diplomatic immunity. And since Heimdall is Vanir, both of you fall under allies, not subjects.”¨

Finally, you found your voice. “What of Sif and the others?” 

“They’d be protected too,” she assured you. “The handfasting period is a period of peace. If anyone acts out violently, then they disrespect the old ways. And Odin is too traditional. The old ways are his ways. His father’s ways. He will respect the year of peace. I’ll make sure of it.”

You took a sure, deep breath. Steeling yourself. You had dreamed of a future with Loki. Years spent discovering each other, learning of intimacies beyond touch. Sharing desires and thoughts. Spending days in the library, discovering more about your peoples, more about your magic. It may not have included a mysterious boy from Verdenspeil. Or a handfasting ceremony as a last-ditch effort to one-up Odin, but then again, your life on Asgard had been far from ideal. Loki waited for your answer, his eyes holding a darker edge to them; desire. Frigga and Thor waited with bated breath, both their postures too ramrod straight, towering over you. Expecting an answer.

“Then, my answer is yes.” You smiled, both anxious and excited. There was a shared sigh of relief in the room.  

Frigga turned to her son, happy for him. He pressed his forehead to yours and mimicked your actions.

“Yes,” he said with a laugh caught in his throat.

Frigga whispered a spell, and suddenly, a spool of ribbon inked itself between your hand and Loki’s. Twisting into an infinity loop at the wrist. You thought of the snake from the cave, then immediately, you remembered the dream with the snake in the cave. Something in you stirred. Through your conjoined hands, you felt Loki’ magic reciprocate that feeling. A yearning. He looked at you with a devilish smirk, making heat spread in your belly. You almost turned away, face too hot.

Frigga’s chant ended. The lyrical music notes of it lost to your unfamiliar ears. Loki and Thor seemed to recognise some of it. You made it a point to remember to ask one of them about it. Especially since the last line made Loki blush.

“I need something to seal the incantation. Something with magic imbued,” Frigga said, searching the surroundings for anything that could work.

Thor opened his fist and after a few seconds of awkward silence, his hammer came crashing through the walls perpendicular to where he was facing. Rumble rolled to your feet, and Frigga looked at him with the most motherly expression you’d ever seen.

“Will this do?” Thor shrugged and held the hammer above you and Loki’s linked arms.

“Just,” Frigga said as she finished off the incantation. A torrent of light, holding all the colours of the rainbow encircled the spot of union.

Everything was as clear as a summer’s morning. Colour giving life to the room. Magic tingling everywhere.

Frigga cleared her throat, “Marked by magic, and witnessed by a prince of Asgard, do you, Loki, and your betrothed, vow to keep the peace and set aside any grudges and conflicts for one year? Do you vow to share, in confidence, the truth of your thoughts and the full extent of your feelings for one another, whatever they may be, however they might grow?”

“I vow,” he said, openly.

A roucus above the floor alerted you to a group of guards immobilising on your position. Distracted, your head tilted up, as if you could will yourself to see through the stone. Your heart quickened and Frigga nudged you. Thor’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t move his hammer an inch.

“Dear, you have to vow,” she brought you back to the present.

“Yes. I vow,” you nodded, trying to stay calm.

Frigga concentrated her magic, her palms coming close. “Then, with these words, I bind you to one another. Bind you in peace. And hope a union will spring from your time together.”

Frigga’s eyebrows drew close together, her hands straining to maintain the magic. A bead of sweat meandered across her temple. And with a grunt, Mjölnir went flying into the wall, a burst of energy exploding out war. Frigga released her grip, panting. “It is done. You are handfasted.”

“Was that supposed to happen?” Thor pointed to the new hole in the wall.

Frigga shook her head, “No. There was…” she regarded you carefully, making sure not to let her face betray whatever she was thinking. “Resistance. It—It’s probably nothing. We’re all tired. We’ve all been through ordeals. It could simply be fatigue.”

You glanced at your tattoo. It had cracks along the artificial ribbon, as if unfinished. The colour of bright emeralds flawed by golden veins. Hints of cerulean in the right lighting. The triquetra, Mjölnir’s symbol, had formed an endless pattern on the ribbon. Easily missed, and of delicate line work. The prick and bristle of the tattoo's magic was bewildering. Sparking with a deeper connection than you could articulate. It wasn’t just the symbol of a bond, but an actual link to both you and Loki.

Loki rushed to his mother’s side, placing a hastened kiss on your forehead beforehand. Thor’s palm called out to Mjölnir and it returned with the sound of thunder rumbling outside. The hoard of guards descending upon you sounded closer. Their voices louder.

“Bit much, don’t you think?” Loki frowned at Thor.

 “Subtlety is lost on me,” Thor said.

“Yes, well… you wouldn’t be my brother if it wasn’t.”

Thor and Loki shared a moment. Their bickering giving way to something deeper. Something neither of them would voice aloud anytime soon. It was trust. A different kind of love. Greater than blood.  

“We should get out of here,” Thor began spinning his hammer and suddenly a gut-punching realisation hit you.

You yanked on Thor’s bulky arm, “Wait! Where’s Baldrick?”

All three of them looked at you, confused.

“Who?” they asked simultaneously.

 ~Odin

The child that had come through the portal with Heimdall and Y/N was strange. Odin had brought him to his study and asked him questions.

The boy—Baldrick as he came to introduce himself—possessed knowledge beyond his years. An aura to him, almost ancient, yet also too young, too powerful. Odin had given him a puzzle to solve, one that required intimate knowledge of magic and science. Baldrick had fiddled with the pentagon-shaped object with a blasé expression. He had solved it faster than Odin had when his father had presented him with the same challenge.

“Astounding,” Odin remarked as the boy set the puzzle down. Baldrick busied himself by staring at the books in Odin’s study. He had made it a point not to speak beyond saying his name.

The boy seemed so familiar. A likeness in his small face.

Odin knew he was biding time by trying to figure out how Baldrick’s mind worked, but he was thankful for the distraction. When Loki had pounded at his door, demanding an audience, Baldrick had studied Odin as if he was the old man and Odin was the boy. It was a peculiar feeling.

When Aisling had been the one to knock on his door, hiding her true thoughts behind pleasantries, he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. A judgement needed to be passed. After all, the Allfather does not lash out on a whim. He’s concise. Calculative. And pragmatic. And he had pushed things too far when he’d sent the Destroyer.

Regret. That’s what had been eating him since Loki fell unconscious. And what had he done once his son awoke? Cowered away. All in the name of protecting his family’s legacy and keeping the truth of his father’s reign buried. It was his curse. His duty. But, at least it hurt less than what he did to Hela. That was a transgression he could never make right, failing as a father.

 He left the boy in his study. Odin feared he may have been more perceptive to emotion. And emotion was the last thing he cared to face.

 Heimdall was held down by the straining arm of a member of the royal guard. His knees kissing stone. Beside him, Sif and her companions held the same posture; necks refusing to stay weighed down, heads facing Odin with arms tied behind their backs, armour stripped for simple clothing.

 “What am I to do with you?” Odin finally spoke. His fingers ghosted over the intricate designs carved into his stave, feeling the schism between each drawn line and folded knot; feeling the obvious divide in his family and peoples. With a sigh, he continued, “Disobedience, theft, evasion and escape. Worst of all, you all knowingly defied the will of your king. One son wasted away in a tower, the other in taverns. And Frigga… My health is barely as it was. What would you have me do? Make an example of you? Show you lenience? Leave you to the mercy of the Destroyer?”

“Do as you wish. I have made my peace with my decisions, and I’d do it all again to ensure my daughter was safe,” Heimdall said.

His voice wasn’t intended to sound defiant, but lately, to Odin’s suspicious ears, everything sounded suspect.

“Safe?” Odin didn’t mean to condescend, but he couldn’t help but laugh. “And can you say the same for everyone in this room? Sif? Volstagg? Hogun? Even you, Fandral? Could you all say that you’d go to the gallows for an outsider? A mortal?”

“Half. Mortal.” Heimdall corrected. A withheld threat somewhere beneath his red-hot glare.

“Now, hold on a minute,” Fandral’s voice fumbled, “that seems an overreaction.”

“Is it not part of our teachings to show benevolence to those that see us as more?” Sif challenged, hurling the guard that held her down over her shoulder. “A mere mortal? You’re the Allfather, the one Midgardians pray to, the one whose story they carve onto mountains. Even if she wasn’t Heimdall’s daughter, it is our duty to protect her, to protect all of them.”

The guard tried to retaliate, but Odin held up his hand, stopping their advances.

“Your notions are young,” Odin said with a sad smile. “I miss seeing the world as simply as you all do, but that is not our reality. And that is why you do not bear the weight of a ruler. I hope none of you do.”

Heimdall watched him closely as he stood to walk closer. Some of that trust they’d built over years of infighting and war was still there, despite them both trying to act otherwise. Bonds of war and patricide were hard to shake.

“Are you still willing to risk everything to keep this fragile peace? This lie?” Heimdall asked. When Odin did not give an answer, Heimdall lamented to himself, “So, this is how it is then.”

“I must pass judgement now. Chaos cannot stand,” Odin quieted the room with a strike of his stave. The room grew very still. Then, Thor’s hammer burst through the door, causing a commotion.

Odin’s breath was stolen away when he saw Frigga stride in a few paces behind their son. And his heart stopped entirely when he saw the tell-tale ribbon tattoo shared between Loki and Y/N.

To his surprise, he was relieved.

“No judgement shall be passed today!” Frigga announced. “No judgement shall be passed until the year is over.” She walked over to pull attention to Loki and Y/N’s matching tattoos. “They are handfasted, and the rules of the old ways are clear. Y/N and her Father, being both of the Vanir, both of my homeworld, cannot be harmed. Nor can they be tried by the king of another realm. Especially since it is your son who is handfasted.”

Odin smiled, and everyone in the room was shocked by his response, “The old ways are sacred, and so, I accept your conditions.” His smile grew wider, “My Queen.”

Frigga walked over to his side easily.

He struck his stave once more and gestured for the guards to stand down. Y/N rushed to Heimdall’s side helping him up, while Sif and Thor and the Warriors Three had their own little reunion.

Yes, he thought to himself. This is a far better outcome.

“Mark today as the start of a passive year. A year of peace,” he decreed.

“Where’s Baldrick?” Y/N demanded, a protective scowl on her face.

Curious, he thought. That they’d form such a bond in such small time. The boy obviously had a way of influencing those around him. Albeit, passively.

Odin was about to answer when the boy shimmered into the room as if summoned, a favourite of Loki’s tricks. Loki stared at the boy, noticing the same thing.

“I am here,” Baldrick said. Y/N took large strides to his side and offered her hand to him. Baldrick walked to the other side, accepting the arm that wasn’t marked by the tattoo instead.

“Well, that was rather unpleasant,” Volstagg stretched, his stomach growling deeply. “How about some good, old fashioned merriment and song tonight?”

“Aye! I have a bone to pick with you all for abandoning me in a tavern to go off on your own adventure,” Thor pouted.

Sif ribbed his arm casually, “You were brooding. You’re utterly useless when you brood.”

“I am not!” he refuted.

“You are too,” Fandral and Loki said simultaneously.

Hogun patted Thor’s back, a teasing smirk on his lips, “Wait until you hear of the snake made of stone.”

Frigga walked over to Loki’s side, whispering something in his ear. He adjusted his collar as if he couldn’t breathe. His gaze fell on Y/N as he strode purposefully to her side. But before he could reach her, Heimdall blocked his path, imposing and large as he looked down at him with a set jaw.

“You and I have much to discuss,” Heimdall glanced at the handfasting tattoo with disapproval. “But,” he sighed, letting his body shrink lower, “it can wait till the morning, I suppose. Your father and I have much to sort through.” He turned to Odin and they both nodded in agreement.

Loki heaved a sigh when Heimdall turned his back. Y/N and Loki shared a secret laugh--the kind Odin had shared with Frigga in youth--before he got on his knee and extended his hand to the small boy.

“I’m Loki,” he said. “I take it, you’re Baldrick?”

Heimdall came to stand close to Odin, arms folded. “Where do we go from here?”

Odin sat back on his throne, his bones aching. “We let them savour their youth.”

“And what happens once the year is done?”

Odin eyes the dispersing crowd, unsure of how to answer that question.

 To be continued...

Tags: @mejohanssonwrites​ @tarynkauai​ @wanderlust-travler @ladybugsfanfics​ @electroma89​ @texmexdarling​ @fire-in-her-veinz​ @whosaidididthat​ @themusingsofmany​ @adefectivedetective​ @marvelschriss​

Permatags: @500daysofbecky @electroma89 @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees @bookish-shristi

[iloveakindofmagic]

PLEASE STAY AWHILE

One shot

Relationship: Deacury (John Deacon x Freddie Mercury)

Words:  2.7k

Summary:

If the death of Freddie Mercury had not happened and it was only a dream that a bassist had...

... would life give Freddie a second chance to be loved?

November 27, 1991

It was a day more cloudy than normal, large gray clouds covered the London sky with threats that it was going to rain.

The world of rock and music were in mourning ...

...Freddie Mercury died ...

~ • ~

Days before the vocalist, pianist and showman of the famous band Queen had left this world due to complicated pneumonia by AIDS, which he had acquired in 1987. Freddie, however, he kept it quiet, to avoid scandals and harassment by the press, although the latter was impossible, since the paparazzi had surrounded his house since the rumors began that he had this terrible disease.

But despite everything, he denied such rumors. Until the condition worsened and the end of Freddie approached. He decided that it was time to reveal to the world his true state of health. All the media reported the new declaration of the QUEEN’s vocalist

The day after the news, Freddie Mercury passed away ...

Thousands of QUEEN fans gathered outside the singer's house to say goodbye, singing songs, leaving messages of farewell to the singer who had become a Rock legend...

~ • ~

Now, Freddie's funeral was going to take place this day. Family, friends and the members of QUEEN were present to say goodbye to him.

For the band, Freddie's death was the most painful, they had lost an essential member of the band, an excellent singer and above all a good friend with whom they shared thousands of anecdotes.

The remaining members of QUEEN were completely devastated, especially the bassist John Deacon, who for him, the vocalist was his best friend, protector and motivation. He was deeply affected by this terrible loss, to such a degree that he was crying throughout the funeral.

After the funeral, Brian went to take a vacation with Anita so he could take in everything that was going on, Roger went home with Debbie and their children. John for his part went home to be with Veronica and spend time with his children to get through this.

The bassist came home, he was still devastated. He climbed the stairs and came to his room and then locked the door, he did not want to talk to anyone, he just wanted to be alone and let his tears flow freely. His wife understood that the death of his best friend affected him. She preferred to leave him alone for that day and the next morning she would talk to him.

John was sitting on the bed, he had a bottle of whiskey in his hand, he was drinking and letting the tears and sadness wash over him.

He couldn't believe what was happening, his heart was in pieces. He had lost one of the most important people in his life. He had a strange mix of sadness, hatred, anger, and guilt.

He felt guilty and hated himself for two strong reasons: on the one hand it was for not having been able to protect Freddie from fucking Paul Prenter, that bastard led Freddie to the world of debauchery and total perdition, which was the cause of that he got AIDS.

But he also hated himself for not expressing his feelings ...

John loved Freddie. At first he believed that it was a kind of affection and admiration for the Persian for protecting him and motivating him to write songs, however, one day he realized that he was more than a friend.

However, it was slow for John to realize that he was bisexual. He always hid these feelings because he had a wife and children. It did not mean that he did not feel love towards Veronica, he loved her, but not intensely as he did with Freddie.

But now John was broken inside. The love of his life was forever gone from this world and Freddie would never return.

He wished this was all just a bad dream and that Freddie was alive.

He lay back on the bed and he kept crying. The memories of Freddie are on the bassist's mind, he remembered the beautiful brown eyes that he had, his lips, that energy that made him unattainable.

How could he be so stupid? Why did he never confess his love to her? He wondered over and over as he took another sip from the whiskey bottle.

John was a mixture of sadness and drunkenness. His eyelids began to feel heavy, he let himself be carried away by Morpheus's arms, falling deeply asleep.

~ ☆ ~

~ ☆ ~

~ ☆ ~

John woke up with a severe headache, he had a huge hangover. It was already night, he had slept most of the day, his family must be worried about him.

Before getting up he realized something: He was not sleeping in his room, he was not even at home, but he was sleeping on a sofa that was in the main living room of Freddie's old house.

The bass player was puzzled. How the hell had he gotten there? Was he too drunk and traveled to Freddie's house? Everything was very confusing.

He got up and went to a bathroom that was close to him. He wiped his face with water and turned his gaze to a mirror. It was observed carefully, her hair was completely brown, there was no whiteness in her hair; his face was free of wrinkles, his appearance was as if he had turned when he was 28 years old, the age he was in 1979. He was confused.

"What the hell is happening here?" Thought John.

Suddenly, John heard a melody provided by a piano, then John out of his thoughts, it meant that he was not alone in that house. It was a melody so harmonious and powerful at the same time began to be heard. John could recognize him from thousands of miles away.

Quickly, he got out of the bathroom and walked around the house in search of the origin of that beautiful melody. The house was practically dark. Meanwhile, he finds a lighted room in the shadows, slowly he approached and leaned out to then find a surprise that left him in shock.

He was there, he was alive ...

... Freddie was alive ...

And there was Freddie, playing the piano. He looked so handsome, jovial, full of energy. He had short hair, however, he did not have the characteristic mustache of the 80s. Meanwhile, the brunette turned his back to the bassist as he focused on playing the piano while singing "You and I".

"Laughter ringing in the darkness

People drinking for days gone by

Time don't mean a thing

When you're by my side

Please stay awhile ..."

John had written that song to Freddie so that he could indirectly realize his feelings and an invitation to have something more than a simple friendship. John wanted to cry, he couldn't believe his eyes, he was seeing Freddie again, he was hearing his melodious and beautiful voice again.

Was he dreaming? Did he go back to 1979? o Was Freddie's death just a bad dream? Whatever it is, he wanted to keep the brown-eyed there forever.

"You know I never could

foresee the future years

You know I never could see

Where life was leading me

But will we be together forever?

What will be my love?

Can't you see that I just don't know"

The bassist listened carefully the song performed by the vocalist.

"I can hear the music in the darkness

Floating softly to

where we lie

No more questions now

Let's enjoy tonight

Just you and I

Can't you see that we've gotta be together

Be together just you and I just you and I

No more questions just you and I "

...

When Freddie finished the song, he turned to look towards the door, finding John standing on the threshold of it, he gave him a smile

“Finally, You had woken up, Deaky” Freddie said, approaching where John was standing “You had drunk too much and fell asleep. Brian and Roger left, so …” He was interrupted by a sudden hug provided by John, taking the persian by surprise. Freddie responded quickly to this act.

“Don't go …” John said and began to cry in the arms of the vocalist “I don't want to lose you again” John whispered in the Persian's ear deepening the hug, he blushed.

"W-What are you talking about, John?" He said, he was puzzled “I am here... I'm not going anywhere” He separated a little to see the child's eyes and meet his beautiful green eyes full of tears, which worried Freddie. "What's wrong, John?" He asked as he caressed the minor's pale face causing him to shudder.

If this was just a game of his mind and he was only dreaming, he didn't want to wake up anymore. This felt more than a dream, it felt so real, Freddie's touch was so warm and comfortable.

The Persian took him to the kitchen and invited him to sit down.

"Do you want some tea?" He offered with a small smile, John just nodded.

He made and poured the tea into two cups. They were both silent for a long time as they took small sips of the drink.

“I had a dream, Fred" The youngest began to speak “In that dream you contracted a terrible disease and …” He stopped to take a breath “... You died young” John burst into tears again. “You left me alone, Freddie …” The Persian was shocked by such words, he worried about forJohn, he didn't like to see the bassist cry.

If there was one thing Freddie hated, it was someone or something hurting John, because these hurt him too. They were hurting the most important person in his life and the person he loved. That I did not forgive anyone.

Freddie had loved John since he had joined the band, he was different from the other men he had known. His way of being with him, his sweetness and innocence; Those green eyes which tore when he laughed, he was perfect for Freddie. He had always silenced his feelings because he knew that he loved Veronica, his wife with whom he had procreated beautiful children.

That is why he only limited himself to protecting and supporting him as a kind of minor brother.

“Oh, darling…” Freddie hugged John and he responded by hugging him tighter, letting his tears flow “I will never leave this world soon ... Brian, Roger and especially you will have Freddie for many  years, I promise " He whispered sweetly. They continued hugging, enjoying the warmth.

John separated a bit from the older one

“Freddie, you must stay away from Paul Prenter” He changed his tone of voice to a serious voice, surprising the vocalist.

“John I …”

“He's not a good guy …” John interrupted Freddie letting go of the hug “He will make you fall into bad steps and that bad dream can come true” his hands held the vocalist's face and staring at him “ Please, let me protect you like you have always done”

“O-Okay John” Freddie blushed at John's words “Tomorrow morning I’m going to fire Paul”

A satisfied smile appeared on John's face, he felt that he had saved from a dark fate to Freddie.

They stared in silence, a slight blush appeared on their faces. Suddenly they both began to draw their faces closer, their hearts were beating fast, they could both feel their breaths.

They finally closed the distance when their lips met in a loving kiss. They both enjoyed that kiss, they transmitted thousands of emotions and feelings that they had saved for a long time.

Before they could deepen the kiss, Freddie reacted and separated of John quickly

“J-John, I'm sorry …” The vocalist got up from his chair, he felt that he had ruined a great friendship “I shouldn't have done it …”

“ Freddie, wait …” the brunette grabbed his wrist before he left “Haven't you realized?” He got up from the chair and grabbed the brunette's hands “I love you, Freddie. I've always loved you”

Freddie blushed when he heard those words, he was surprised.

“B-But Veronica …”

“The love I feel for her doesn't compare with the great love I feel for you” John got closer to Freddie, being inches away from him. They could see the difference in stature between them, John was taller than Freddie and the older man liked that difference.

The bassist hugged the older man's waist and brought him closer to him, blushing Freddie more

“I love you from the first day I saw you and I will always love you, Fred”

Freddie started to cry, he was very happy to hear those words

“Deaky, darling ... “ his hands held John's neck “I love you too much and I will love you forever”  

John blushed, he couldn't believe what he was hearing, he was very happy. Freddie stood on tiptoe and approached John’s face.

"You don't know how much I wanted this feeling to be mutual, John."

They both joined their lips in a sweet kiss, they felt that nothing else mattered but just the two of them. Now they could finally be happy together.

They deepened the kiss, now their tongues danced between them, exploring her oral cavities. The bassist’s lips traveled to Freddie's neck and he kissed his neck, drawing moans from the vocalist.

Freddie took John to his room and there they continued with the passionate kissing session ...

Finally, they made love with passion. Freddie was very happy, he had felt John inside of him and it was so special. It was the best sex Freddie had ever had in his life, it was so romantic and so passionate at the same time. Besides he was very happy to have made love to the person he most loved.

John was happy to finally be with the love of his life. For John it was not just sex , it was the beginning of a relationship and a new path in Freddie's life.

Both of them finally fell asleep hugging each other.

~ • ~

John woke up the next morning, he was naked and he was covered only with a sheet. Slowly he opened his eyes and found that the vocalist was not at his side.

A fear seized him when he saw that Freddie was not in bed.

Was it all a dream? Was Freddie really dead? He thought.

I was about to cry, when suddenly, Freddie came in holding a tray with a plate full of toast with cheese and orange juice. John immediately changed his face.

“Good morning, Deaky” He left the tray on the nightstand and approached the bassist to kiss his lips.

“Good morning, Fred” He said without stopping to see his new boyfriend.

The singer wore a kimono that he had gotten on one of the many tours to Japan. John was stunned to see him in that garment.

"Do you like what you see?" The old man modeled. John was able to see her naked and well turned thighs, she looked so fucking sexy with that.

“Y-Yes" He blushed "You look beautiful, Freddie" He confessed with a slight smile. Freddie's face  turned red when he heard those words.

"Thanks, Deaky" She sat on the bed and leaned over to kiss him sweetly. "I love you"

“I love you more, Fred ... And I will love you always” John whispered and then gave him a deep kiss full of love and passion ...

~ • ~

Freddie fired Paul without saying any reason that same day . His ex assistant threatened to divulge everything he knew about him, however, the vocalist gave it little importance, since he had already found that person to love and he didn’t care about anything else.

While John asked for a divorce from Veronica, she understood John’s feelings towards Freddie and she didn’t oppose his decision, the woman promised that she would be discreet with the relationship he had with Freddie. He said to her that his children wouldn’t lack anything and every weekend he would spend time with the children.

A new story full of love and mutual affection began. John didn’t know if life had given them a second chance to be happy together and Freddie could live without having contracted that damn disease or it was just a very real nightmare. The only thing he was sure of was that he was going to do everything possible to make him happy and be that somebody to love that Freddie had always sought. He was going to protect and love him forever so that the dream he had was just it ...

... Just a dream ...

*THE END*

Hi! This is my first story that I post in Tumblr. I hope you liked it. I love write fanfics about Deacury relationship!

Please visit my ao3, Instagram and Wattpadñ. You can find me under the same name: ILoveAKindOfMagic

Greetings! 💞

[skeptycats]

Vicky Archives #8

LEAFPOOL’S WISH - Secrets and promises

Vicky Holmes, the former editor of the Warriors series, has been doing short extract readings on Facebook since the start of the UK lockdown back in March. There’s some really cool anecdotes hidden within some of these videos, so I decided to begin penning them down for posterity and easy reference.

I won’t be transcribing filler, hedging and false starts but I’m including some amount of preamble just to be comprehensive.

#1 Into the Wild | #2 Forest of Secrets | #3 The Darkest Hour | #4 Code of the Clans | #5 Firestars’ Quest | #6 Twilight | #7 Long Shadows | #8 Leafpool’s Wish

---

Do days even exist? It’s still lockdown.

Right, after my very self-indulgent and dramatic reading of the [unintelligible] Ashfur and the three kits, I’ve decided that I will catch up with some of the background to it. Leafpool’s Wish is one of the novellas that I wrote, and inevitably, when I knew that I had the chance to write these stories that filled in the gaps, I wanted to show what happened between Leafpool and Squirrelflight when Leafpool gave birth to the kits and Squirrelflight agreed to raise them as her own. 

They leave the Clan together, ThunderClan, and they go off on this little secret mission. And the kits are born, and obviously Leafpool adores them with all of her heart. She has a visitor, and the visitor is Feathertail’s ghost. Feathertail was a RiverClan cat who was Crowfeather’s first love, and she died in the Tribe of Rushing Water on the journey to find the lake.

“Feathertail!” she gasped. She scrambled to her paws and tried to press herself against the starlitshape, her tail curled over her back in delight. “I never thought I’d see you here! Have you come to see Leafpool’s kits? Aren’t they amazing?” Squirrelflight broke away and leaned down over Leafpool. Very gently, she moved the kits into view one by one. “A black she-cat and two toms, this golden tabby and this gray. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.” Her voice cracked.

Feathertail’s blue eyes brimmed with love. “They are perfect. Crowfeather would be so proud.”

With a jolt, Leafpool remembered that Feathertail had been Crowfeather’s mate first. Had she come all the way from the Tribe of Endless Hunting to tell Leafpool that Crowfeather deserved to know he had become a father? As if she could tell what Leafpool was thinking, Feathertail shook her head.

“These kits are more precious than you could possibly know,” she mewed softly. “Cats will speak of them for many seasons to come. They must stay in ThunderClan, for all the Clans’ sakes, with a mother and father who can be proud of them, who can share them with their Clanmates to be raised as strong, loyal warriors.”

Leafpool opened her mouth to protest that this was impossible, her Clanmates would never accept Crowfeather as their father, and might reject her too, knowing that their medicine cat had destroyed the code. But Feathertail was looking at Squirrelflight.

“I know how much Leafpool loves these kits,” she murmured. “But you must be their mother and raise them in ThunderClan with your head held high.”

Squirrelflight stared at the starlit she-cat. “How can you do this?” she whispered. “You are asking me to lie to every cat I love.”

Feathertail ran her paw very lightly over the backs of the sleeping kits. “Because I love these kits as much as you do. They are Crowfeather’s: How could I not? I want them to have the best life, not one lived outside the Clans, in shame and exile.”

“Do you wish they were yours?” Squirrelflight whispered.

The silver cat blinked without looking up. “That was never meant to be. The destiny of these kits begins now, and you have the power to change everything, Squirrelflight. Please believe me when I say that Leafpool’s kits must stay in ThunderClan.”

She began to fade until the bark of the hollow tree could be seen behind her. Squirrelflight gazed at Leafpool, and the medicine cat saw water glistening in her sister’s eyes. “Feathertail was right,” Squirrelflight whispered. “I do love these kits, and I want them to have the best life they can— whatever lies ahead for them.” She took a deep breath. “I will raise them as mine and Brambleclaw’s, as true cats of ThunderClan.”

Leafpool closed her eyes. It is the best for my babies, she told herself. “Thank you,” she murmured.

At that moment the golden tabby wriggled and started mewling. Leafpool nudged him toward her belly but he didn’t seem interested in feeding; he just wanted to test his voice. His sister burrowed deeper into Leafpool’s fur with a squeak, while the pale gray tom raised his head, eyes still tightly shut, as if he was trying to figure out where the noise was coming from.

“I need to give them names,” Leafpool purred, marveling at the way these tiny cats already seemed so different, so strong and full of life. She studied the golden tom. His neck was ringed with thick fluff, and his mouth opened wide to reveal thorn-prick white teeth. “He looks like a lion!” she commented. “I think I’ll call him Lionkit.”

Squirrelflight nodded. “The she-cat is as dark as holly bark. Maybe Hollykit for her?”

Leafpool hesitated. My daughter is the image of Crowfeather. Shouldn’t she be named after her father, even if he never knows the truth?

Her sister was watching her closely. “Leafpool,” she mewed, as gently as the snow falling outside. “I am going to raise these kits as my own. Surely I should have a say in their names?”

Leafpool felt a pain inside her belly that was sharper than birth pangs. My precious kits! A few snowflakes drifted down through the hollow tree and settled on Lionkit’s fur. Leafpool battled the urge to cover the kits with her body, protect them from snow, rain, hail, badgers, foxes, anything that might harm one hair on their pelts. Then the scent of Feathertail drifted around her, and she knew their path had already been chosen. Whatever she felt, however many regrets the future held, the only thing that mattered was creating the best life for these three perfect babies.

Squirrelflight pressed her muzzle against Leafpool’s shoulder. “ThunderClan needs you to be their medicine cat,” she mewed. “I will love these kits as if they were my own. I already do! I will never take them from the Clan, you will see them all the time, and they will know you are my kin so they will always be close to you. Remember what Feathertail said: These kits deserve parents who can be proud of them, who can raise them among their Clanmates as fine warriors. Brambleclaw and I can do that. And the secret of their birth will die with me, I promise.”

But I am their mother! Leafpool wailed silently. In her heart, she knew Squirrelflight was right. She could not raise these kits, their mother a medicine cat, their father a WindClan warrior who seemed to have found a new mate already.

“Hollykit is a good name,” she mewed numbly.

UNDERSTANDING A MOTHER’S LOVE

Oh, I do enjoy revisiting those scenes and reading them to you. This one was obviously a critical scene because I had to make it convincing that Leafpool would let Squirrelflight raise her kits. We’d sown the scenes, I think, already for Leafpool’s absolute loyalty to being a medicine cat. After all, she’d been eloping, basically, with Crowfeather a few books ago, and had received word that badgers were coming to attack the Clan. And so she decided to come back, she said to Crowfeather ‘we can’t do this, I am the medicine cat’. And of course she arrived back just as Cinderpelt, the other medicine cat, was being killed by a badger.

So Leafpool had to live with that guilt, she almost deserted her Clan in its time of need. All the way up, during her pregnancy and in Leafpool’s Wish, we see how much the Clan needs her as the medicine cat. She doesn’t have an apprentice, she asks Brightheart to be her apprentice and Brightheart says ‘no, I’m a mother and a warrior’ and ‘I may only have half a face, but I still have a role to play’. And that’s always been a very important part of Brightheart’s identity for me.

Leafpool knows that the entire health of ThunderClan rests on her shoulders and hers alone. She also knows that she’s broken the code - medicine cats are not supposed to have mates, they’re not supposed to have children, precisely because it divides their loyalties like this. And it always leads to trouble, we only have to look as far as Yellowfang and Brokenstar to know how much danger ther is in a medicine cat that has children. Maybe this is a very unfair rule, but I didn’t design the warrior code to be fair, I designed it as far as possible to reflect the “real” life in the Clans. And the fact is that you need a medicine cat to treat all cats equally, and if they have children, inevitably their hearts will lie more with protecting their children over their Clanmates.

I decided to bring Feathertail in to convince Squirrelflight, because I felt that if Leafpool alone had said to Squirrelflight, ‘they’re Crowfeather’s kits, oops! They’re Crowfeather’s, could you raise them?’, I think Squirrelflight would have felt that she was better able to support her sister in raising them. Squirrelflight is a very generous cat, she’s very impulsive, and I’ve always tried to show that she’s not afraid to challenge the warrior code much like her father, Firestar. I made her very much in his image. So I think she would have said ‘pish to the warrior code, pish to the fact that they’ve got a WindClan father’.

Also in Leafpool’s Wish, very critically, I didn’t have time to read this as well, Leafpool and Squirrelflight visit the Moonpool above the lake and they share a dream in which Yellowfang says to Squirrelflight ‘you’re going to have to raise these kits, because you will never have kits of your own’. Now we don’t know the truth of that of course, but Yellowfang just knows that Leafpool can’t raise these kits herself, she knows firsthand the trouble that would cause.

I have sort of painted Squirrelflight into a corner, I’ve maneuvered her into a position where this could be her only chance of being a mother, do this for the Clan, do this for your sister, do this for your kits, they don’t want to live in shame, you have a mate in Brambleclaw, you’ve chosen him over Ashfur... It seems the only option that Squirrelflight raises these kits as her own. That was really important to me, that this was such a huge decision. And also, of course, by the time I wrote Leafpool’s Wish, I had done Power of Three. I knew exactly how massive this was going to be. The fact that these three kits were not Squirrelflight’s biological children. 

This filling in the gaps story, Leafpool’s Wish, had to be absolutely concrete, absolutely convincing. Convincing for me, convincing for you as the readers, and convincing for the cats themselves. These cats are very alive when I wrote their stories. Nothing was done lightly. And this, this I really felt I had to get right. 

I have to say that reading through Leafpool’s Wish... Sometimes when I read to you, and I read things I write on my own, I think ‘ooh, wow, I was on fire’. But I don’t think Leafpool’s Wish is the best I’ve ever written. I was a little bit disappointed in some of it. But I am my own harshest critic. 

I’ll read from another novella next time. I think it’s going to be Ravenpaw’s Farewell. He is me, Ravenpaw. Alright my lovelies, thank you for watching and listening. See you soon!

[karasuno-writings]

Hi!! I saw your earlier work and I loved it!!!!! May a request a fluffy and domestic scenario with Oikawa? He’s the best boy

Hi! Ahhh I am so glad you liked them it makes me so happy!!  It always makes me happy to write, specially for characters I love and TBH who does not love Oikawa :3 I hope you like this!!

________________________________________

Oikawa was getting out of his volleyball practice, he was tired, but looking forward to tonight. He and Y/N  would spend the night together, they had finally convinced him to take a much needed break, so he was leaving at the same time as everyone. Not that he needed much convincing, he stood no chance against Y/N, he became putty on their hands, they always took such well care of him. The best way he could thank them would be actually listening, and of course he would look after them too, all he wanted was for Y/N to be happy.

He was now talking with Iwaizumi about the upcoming matches, and after changing out of his volleyball jersey he started heading out. “See you Iwa-chan!” He said with a wave and headed where he had told them to wait for him. Iwaizumi sighted and waved goodbye at his friend, however there was a hint of a smile on his demeanor, he was thankful of how easier had it been to help him after he met Y/N.

Oikawa saw Y/N sitting outside the steps of the school, and greeted them in a sing-song way. Y/N chuckled as they faced him,“Took you long enough”. “Come on Y/N-chan It was only five minutes late” he said in a half whiny tone. They chuckled again and stood up, “I was joking Tooru, you know I’d wait for you longer… What are we doing tonight?”, Y/N said with a tilt of their head. “Tonight it's said that the stars shine brighter and I want to be able to see them”, Oikawa said with a smile plastered across his face. “Lets go Y/N!” He held their hand.

They headed to Oikawa’s house, after all the roof was more than perfect to be able to stargaze. It was a chilly night, and it was apparent that Y/N regretted leaving their jacket. Of course they tried to brush it off, but for Oikawa it was apparent that they were almost freezing, he knew them way too well. He smiled and gave them his jacket, “Why don’t you ask for my jacket Y/N-chan! I’m not even using it”, he said as he handed said white coat. They smiled and nodded as a thank you but chuckled before saying, “I didn’t want to smell all sweaty like you”. Oikawa frowned and stuck his tongue out at them in a playful manner, but then he started laughing. He looked at them as they put his jacket on and let out a relieved sight, “Thanks Oikawa”, they said with a smile.

Soon enough they were at his home, the trip was fast between shared anecdotes and laughter. When they arrived they grabbed a blanket and decided to make some snacks before heading to the ceiling, after all the sun was just starting to set. “Lets get popcorn!” Y/N said waving a bag around, with a smile on their face. Oikawa chuckled at their antics, “Sure Y/N-chan I’ll go and set the blankets and pillows up!”

When Oikawa returned from the ceiling into the kitchen he came to a halt. Y/N was oblivious to him, they were going on about making snacks in their own messy way. He had come to know them, their quirks, the small details that made Y/N unique, and that made his heart flutter. He knew them well and he admired all about Y/N, and how they get him all too well, they made him feel special. Y/N turned to look at him, arms full of plates and bowls and bags, when they saw him, their distracted gesture turned into a smile. “Lets go get everything ready Tooru!”

The pillow-fort was set up, and as they lay on it, they were greeted to a beautiful starry night. Y/N rest their head on his arm and started to look at the amazing view, both of them were sure every constellation present in that little patch of sky was displayed in front of their eyes. “Hey, Tooru do you know any of the constellations?” They said looking at him, their eyes shiny and their smile that seems to light up their entire face. “I-Uh, Yeah!” He said as he pointed towards the sky, “That one there is Draco, and that one is the Ursa Mayor” He stopped suddenly and squinted his eyes. “What about you Y/N-chan! Which ones do you know?”. Y/N smiled and chuckle a bit, “Well I think that one there is the little dipper, and that one must be the big dipper then, is…” They continued talking, pointing a finger at the sky shifting it every now and then, most of the time making up names as jokes or plainly mocking him. But Tooru couldn’t get himself to listen, all he could do is admire them. The way they squint their eyes and scrunched up their nose, how hey lit up when they laughed and pouted when they were sad, how they seemed to be so proud of every little thing he did and how much they cared. It was all coming back to him, every anecdote and joke shared, every smile and every little moment between the two of them. “Tooru?” They said as soon as they realized he had stopped listening and has his gaze focused instead on them.

“I-I love you”, He said carefully, the words rolling in his mouth as if they were meant to be, knowing this was the right moment, he felt it from them. If it wasn’t obvious before it sure was now, surrounded by millions of beautiful stars, that Y/N was the most beautiful star of them all.

[bamon4bamily]

TVD 9x11 - Jukebox Feels (part 1) Enjoy! =)

Cut to - 2018 prison world, the Salvatore mansion. Katherine walks through the front door, dazed and confused. She must be having a nightmare, she thinks to herself; this can’t be happening, she can’t possibly be where she thinks she is. Although her intuition tells her the contrary, she gives it a shot, on the slim chance it might not be true…

KATHERINE: Hello? Anyone there? (She searches the house; as expected, it’s empty. She tries different techniques to escape the situation. Pinches herself to wake up, nothing. Taps her feet together, and with her eyes closed whispers: There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home… doesn’t work either). Maybe if I go to sleep, I’ll wake up and everything will be back to normal… Yes, I need to sleep (she goes into Stefan’s room, puts on one of his pajamas and lies in his bed. Not even a minute in, and she’s off dreaming of sheep.

Cut to – Akumal, Mexico. After a beautiful moonlight dinner, Damon and Bonnie sit on the beach, admiring the full moon’s glow, and some real good tequila.

 DAMON: (Randomly) Truth or dare…

BONNIE: (Laughs) Are you serious?

DAMON: I’m dead serious, come on, scaredy-cat!

BONNIE: Please! I just don’t want to humiliate you, cry-baby!

DAMON: Oh, it’s on! Brace yourself for defeat!

BONNIE: Bring it!

DAMON: One rule, no magic or psychy stuff!

BONNIE: Fine, no vamp tricks.

DAMON: Deal. Truth or dare?

BONNIE: Dare.

DAMON: I’ll start easy, (smirks) don’t want you loosing so fast. I dare you to take a shot of tequila while doing a handstand.

BONNIE: Piece of cake! (Delivers to perfection) My turn, truth or dare?

DAMON: Truth.

BONNIE: Okay, let’s settle this once and for all; do you steal from the bank when we play monopoly?

DAMON: (Grins) Not every time…

BONNIE: (Whacks him with her elbow) I knew it!

DAMON: What can I say, Bon, too much temptation. Okay, truth or dare?

BONNIE: Dare.

DAMON: I’m sensing a pattern here, but suit yourself. I dare you to go up to one of the people at the bar and tell them, in a very low and creepy voice, I see dead people…

BONNIE: I’m gonna get you back for this one! (Although hesitant, she delivers; freaking the hell out of the poor soul unfortunate to be approached by her. They go back to their spot) Okay, Mr. smarty pants. My turn, truth or dare… and you better choose dare!

DAMON: Dare… I say truth!

BONNIE: I’ll break you, eventually. What is the most embarrassing thing in your room?

DAMON: Oh, you’re going there! You already know the answer…

BONNIE: I do, but I want to hear you say it.

DAMON: Fine, my unicorn onesies.

BONNIE: With a butt crack… can’t forget the butt crack (she laughs)!

DAMON: They’re cozy! Okay, missy, shit just got real! Truth or dare…

BONNIE: I’m going with truth; just cause I know you’ll make me do some crazy shit after that one.  

DAMON: (With a wicked grin, rubbing his hands) Excellent…  What is your guilty pleasure?

BONNIE: Oh, come on! You know that…

DAMON: I do, but I also want to hear you say it, so, go on…

BONNIE: Fine… occasionally I like to dress up like Whitney Houston in the Queen of the Night video from the Bodyguard, and perform in front of the mirror…

DAMON: Occasionally? More like every other Sunday... and it’s HOT AF!  

BONNIE: Can’t believe you caught me doing that!

DAMON: One of my fondest prison world memories! I have to hand it to you, Bon, you really got creative with the costume.

BONNIE: I’ve perfected it since then… Well, there, I said it! Happy now?

DAMON: Never been happier… (leans in to kiss her) and you are, beyond a doubt, the queen of the night…

BONNIE: Don’t think for a second that’s gonna get you out of what’s coming…Truth or dare?

DAMON: I’m a mix it up and go with dare.

BONNIE: (With a wicked grin, rubbing her hands) Been waiting for that since we started.

DAMON: I’m instantly regretting my decision.

BONNIE: (Laughs) Oh, and you should! You’re in trouble now… Mr. Damon Salvatore, your mission, which you have no choice but to accept, is to (she opens a portal to their room, goes and comes back).

DAMON: Hey, we said no tricks!

BONNIE: You said no magic, no psychic stuff, but you never mentioned teleporting, so suck it! Here (hands him one of her outfits and her make-up kit) Put this on, make-up and all. Once you are ready, and looking gorge, you are going to perform Queen of the Night to the guests at the beach bar. Good luck, doll! (Laughs hysterically).

DAMON: Oh, Bon-Bon… when you least expected, I’ll get you back.

BONNIE: (Mocking) I’m sure you will; but for now, come on, dancing queen, your audience awaits. (Damon performs, surprisingly well, or at least good enough to receive and applause from his audience, who, although very confused, found the show quite entertaining. They go back to their spot). You did great, almost nailed the choreography.

DAMON: Well, I learned from the best.

BONNIE: I think it’s safe to say I won this little game.

DAMON: This time around… 

BONNIE: How bout you get out of those clothes, I get out of mine, and we go for a night swim?

DAMON: Don’t have to ask me twice! (As he is taking the high heels off) How do you guys walk in these things??

BONNIE: You get used to it, (teasing) just don’t get too used to it... Ready, my night queen?

DAMON: (Carries her) Let’s go, witchy! (They swim under the moonlight; then make love till sunrise).

Cut to - The secret facility, Edward’s cell. He has been sleeping for quite some time. He slowly begins to wake; as he opens his eyes, he sees someone lying on the floor under a pool of blood, right next to his bed. He jumps up in a scare.

 AUGUSTUS: Oh, don’t be alarmed, son, it’s not me, I’m doing just fine. Meet your uncle Pete; granted it might not be the best introduction, but hey, you wanted to meet your family… well, there you go.

EDWARD: (Disgusted and in shock) What is this!!??  

AUGUSTUS: It’s a dead body, son. And, from what I hear they start to smell pretty bad once they decompose; so, I suggest you move fast and bring your cousin Matty back. Feel free to use our tech if it helps, Eddie here (points to the strange man that has been standing outside his cell everyday) is more than happy to help.

EDWARD: (Crying in despair, looking at the corpse) Oh god, oh, god!!! (To his father) You are fucking insane!!!

AUGUSTUS: Language, boy! I taught you better manners than that… guess I should have never left you in Tamara’s care; what a waste of an ivy-league education. My fault for bringing in the trash. Oh, well… time is ticking, and that body is stinking… Ha, that rhymed, maybe I should pick up poetry? I always did love Literature… Anyway, (belittling) Mayor Powell, let’s see just how smart and powerful you really are. Rest assured, if you get the job done, I promise I will make it worth your while (he leaves; Edward can’t stop crying, imagining Matt’s pain).

Cut to - Munich, Germany. Sam, Elena, Sage, and Alex, are having some drinks, after their first days of the program.

SAGE: I knew this program was going to be out of the ordinary, but it’s totally blowing my mind!  

ELENA: I agree, it’s amazing! The equipment we have access to is unbelievable! Never knew those types of tools and tech even existed.

SAM: (Putting his drink up for a cheer) Here’s to an unorthodox quality education, and to new awakenings!

ALL: Cheers! (They drink, share some laughs and anecdotes; at some point, the boys get into their own conversation in another area of the bar. Elena and Sage have no option but to interact more closely).

ELENA: Listen, I’m sorry for calling you a bitch.

SAGE: I’m sorry for being one. (Holds her hand out for a handshake) Do-over?

ELENA: Do-over (shakes her hand). So, tell me, why are you so obsessed with Pietro? Not judging, just curious.

SAGE: I know a lot of people think he is just an entitled jerk, but he is so far from that. I mean, yes, he is arrogant and pretentious, but when you’ve accomplished what he has, you kind of earn the right to be.

ELENA: Still don’t get it, what has he accomplished? He’s not even a Doctor…

SAGE: He owns the world’s most groundbreaking technology companies. Ai, IoT, nanotech, you name it, he is behind it. He might not be the science side of the operation, but he is the business side that makes it possible. Just between us, I’m pretty sure he is a vampire. Get this, while I was doing research on his background, I stumbled upon some pretty crazy documentation that dates his birth back to 1865. It’s either that, or he stole some real old dead guy’s identity.

ELENA: That is definitely not a coincidence… Do the names Stefan and Damon Salvatore ring a bell?

SAGE: Never heard of them, who are they?

ELENA: Besides my ex-boyfriends, I think they might be Pietro’s half-brothers.

SAGE: (Laughs) That’s impossible…

ELENA: Put two and two together…

SAGE: Oh, they’re also…? OMG! So, you slept with two vampires, and they were brothers??!! I totally miss read you, you’re a badass!! I love it!! (Holds her drink up) Cheers for that!

ELENA: Well, the brothers thing is something I’m really not proud of. I was young and gave in to my darkest desires; but I guess karma got me served, because they both fell in love with my best friends; so…

SAGE: Hey, nothing to be ashamed of; more power to you! I mean, it’s okay when men do it, but as woman we get shamed for it… Fuck that shit!

ELENA: Good point... (holds her glass up for a cheer) Here’s to woman equality!

SAGE: Fuck yeah! So, tell me, how did you end up getting involved with vampires?

ELENA: It’s a long and complicated story… Let’s just say I look exactly like someone they were once very obsessed with, and it grew from there.

SAGE: Who did you go out with first?

ELENA: Stefan… my first true love; but then I fell for the bad boy, who just happened to be his brother. Like I said, not proud, but that’s how it went down.

SAGE: Was it serious?

ELENA: Very. With Stefan I could see my entire future; it was like a fairytale love. With Damon, I lived for the moment and was consumed with passion.  

SAGE: Sounds like you were quite in a predicament.

ELENA: I was, for a while; but I ended up choosing Damon.

SAGE: So, what happened? Why did you two split?

ELENA: There were many reasons, but every time I go back to it, I think it’s because we got off to a wrong start. When I became a vampire, I was sired to him… not the best way to start a relationship.

SAGE: Wait, you are a vampire!!? Are you kidding me?!! This story keeps getting better and better!

ELENA: No, no! I’m not one anymore, but I was.

SAGE: Oh, okay, you freaked me out there for a sec! Anyway, then, what happened? Spill!!

ELENA: Well, a whole bunch of crazy stuff... then I took a cure, became human again, only to be put into a three-year sleeping spell, then I woke up. At first it was bliss, but then, once we moved in together our deeper problems began to surface…

SAGE: Did those problems have to do with him falling for one of your best friends?

ELENA: Not expressively… but in part, yes. I knew he was in love with her, and that there was nothing I could do to change that.

SAGE: Ouch, that’s gotta hurt.

ELENA: I mean, he never cheated or anything like that, they didn’t even get together until recently, but just knowing he would never love me like her, hurt for a while… then I met Sam…

SAGE: Wow, that’s quite a story!

ELENA: Straight out of a supernatural YA book, am I right?

SAGE: I’m a big fan of YA drama, and supernatural lure, so, right up my alley! Okay, let me ask you one last question. If you could go back, would you make the same choice?

ELENA: What do you mean?

SAGE: Stefan or Damon? Who would you choose?

ELENA: (Laughs) Uhm, okay, that’s a weird question…

SAGE: Oh, come on, just for fun, and keeping with the YA context.

ELENA: I’d say as a human, I would choose Stefan; as a vampire, Damon. But I guess it wouldn’t matter who I would choose, since they wouldn’t choose me a second time around, that’s for sure.

SAGE: (Teasing) Well, good news for Sam.

ELENA: Okay, I shared my stories; now it’s your turn.

SAGE: Well my stories are quite boring compared to that!

ELENA: Still, spill! It’s only fair, you have leverage on me, I should have some on you.

SAGE: Fair enough. What do you want to know?

ELENA: You and Alex, what’s the story there?

SAGE: Oh god, no! Nothing like that, he’s like a brother to me.

ELENA: Aw, that’s too bad, you two are cute together. How about you and Sam, anything ever happen between you two?

SAGE: This conversation is getting dangerous...

ELENA: Oh, come on, what’s in the past is in the past; there’s nothing dangerous about that.

SAGE: Fine, you asked for it. Long time ago, one crazy drunken night; that’s all.

ELENA: I know, he told me; just wanted to check if you would be honest with me.

SAGE: (Teasing) Now who’s the bitch!

ELENA: Sorry, trust issues. Now, for real, any past epic loves?

SAGE: Uhm, not really… I mean, I’ve had many relationships but nothing serious. I’m not the deep connection type; I just like to have fun, and I don’t like to put in the time, so short and sweet works out perfectly for me.

ELENA: Crazy hookups?

SAGE: Now that is my area of expertise! Wow, where do I start… I’ve done all the clichés, mile high club being my favorite one. But I have to say, the craziest has been with someone you actually know, (mocking) the renowned city Mayor of Mystic Falls.

ELENA: (Spits out her drink) Are you serious? You had a thing with Edward Powell? How do you even know him?!

SAGE: From NYC, our hometown. We were both part of the upper east side elite; a real Gossip Girl type thing. And let me tell you, he might seem like a Nate on the outside, but inside, he is a full-on Chuck Bass. Anyway, we went to this masquerade ball at an exclusive mansion outside the city. Long story short, we ended up covering for a murder which turned out to be anything but that; it was just a really drunk-ass Wall-Street magnate, that passed out in a tub filled with red wine. Good thing he woke up before we finished filling the whole… and that he didn’t see us having sex next to what we thought was his corpse. In our defense, we were also really drunk, and high as fuck.

ELENA: Holy shit! And you call your stories boring? Wonder what the exciting ones are like!

SAGE: (Laughs; then sees that Alex and Sam are heading back to their table) Well, that’s a conversation for another night… this has been fun, but I think our girl time is over; I’m glad we had a chance to talk like this.

ELENA: Me too, and I’m sorry I was so quick to judge you.

SAGE: Dido. Friends?

ELENA: Friends.

Cut to – Akumal, Mexico. Bonnie, Damon, Stefan and Caroline are having a nice beachfront brunch.

 CAROLINE: I can’t believe this is our last day! Time went by way too fast!

BONNIE: I know, seems like we just got here.

STEFAN: How about we make a deal, right here, the four of us.

DAMON: (Teasing) Bro, we are not even done with brunch; plus, it would be way too weird…

STEFAN: Of course your mind would go there… Anyway, no, Damon, that’s not what I want to propose. How do you guys feel about spending some money and investing on a property down here? That way we can come back whenever we want.

CAROLINE: I love it, yes!!!!

BONNIE: I’m in!

STEFAN: Damon?

DAMON: Just tell me where to sign!

BONNIE: La Bruja is coming over for dinner tonight, maybe she can give us some tips on property here.

STEFAN: That be great. I’m thinking nothing too fancy, but definitely beachfront.

BONNIE: And secluded.

CAROLINE: 2 master bedrooms, 1 kids room, and two or three guestrooms for when Ty, Lexi, Matt and Alaric come visit.

DAMON: So much for “not too fancy” …

CAROLINE: I’m not saying it needs to be fancy, just spacious, there are way too many of us.

BONNIE: We’ll also need a garden, good footprint area so we can grow our own food.

CAROLINE: And a pool of course, for the girls.

STEFAN: And I think we can all agree, we need a big bar.

DAMON: And a wine cellar.

STEFAN: Maybe we’re gonna have to build it from scratch, I’m pretty sure we won’t be able to find a place that checks all of our boxes.

BONNIE: If we have someone design it for us, I’m pretty sure La Bruja and I can pull it off.

DAMON: It’s settled then, we’ll brief La Bruja over dinner and start to plan our perfect Belvafore hide-away!

STEFAN: Belvafore?

DAMON: Yes; Bennett, Salvatore, and Forbes… Belvafore!

BONNIE: (To Stefan, mocking Damon) I’m telling you, not even with his vamp back on…

CAROLINE: I like it! It’s like Steroline and Bamon!

BONNIE: Steroline and Bamon?

CAROLINE: Yes, Bamon, aka, Bonnie and Damon; isn’t it perfect?! Stefan came up with it.

STEFAN: Sorry, Bon, just a fan.

BONNIE: (Laughing) Oh, Stefan, didn’t see that one coming... And Steroline, is Stefan and Caroline...

CAROLINE: You got it! (With pride) I came up with that one!

BONNIE: (With a y’all crazy look) Okay...

DAMON: Oh, come on, Bon-Bon; Bamon, gotta love it!

BONNIE: Fine, I’ll admit it... y’all crazy but I love it!

CAROLINE: (Holds her mimosa glass up for a cheer) To Belvafore and building new traditions!

ALL: Cheers!

Cut to – The Salvatore school, Alaric’s study. Alaric, and Radka, are trying to figure out their next steps.

ALARIC: How could I have been so reckless and stupid…

RADKA: It was an honest mistake, Ric. How were you supposed to know what would happen?

ALARIC: I know how dangerous that little gadget is, it was my responsibility to keep it under lock and key. Now, thanks to me, Katherine is probably being hunted down by a psychopath.

RADKA: Katherine is strong and witty, if anyone, Kai is the one that needs to worry. I’m sure she’ll be fine; we just need to figure out how to bring her back.

ALARIC: The only one that can help with that is Bonnie, and I’m not letting her go near Kai. We need to figure out a way to do this without the need for Bennett blood.

RADKA: How about 2 werewolves, 2 vampires and a hunter… think we could pull it off?

ALARIC: The problem is not getting in, but out… there’s no way out without the right ingredients.

RADKA: Okay, I might be thinking crazy here, but we need to think outside the box. What if we ask Margo to summon a Bennett witch, she can open a temporary spirit realm and do an incarnation spell so she can be materialized; then, we go to this prison world, get Katherine and use the blood of that Bennett witch to come back…

ALARIC: That sounds insane… but it might actually work. Isn’t Margo still on sick leave?

RADKA: She’s better now, called me up this morning to let me know she’d be back tomorrow.

ALARIC: Do you think she would be up for it?

RADKA: Not sure, but it doesn’t hurt to ask.

Cut to – 2018 prison world, Stefan’s room. Katherine wakes up to find herself tied up with her mouth covered. Kai is sitting on a chair, reading. He looks quite different than expected; very clean cut and intellectual, glasses and all.

KAI: I’m sorry I had to tie you up, but I do not appreciate intruders. God, these new generations have completely lost their manners. Sneaking into other people’s homes, putting on their nightclothes, sleeping in their beds… The audacity!

(Kai gets up, walks towards one of the many jukeboxes he has installed around the house, and plays a song...)

TVD 9x11 (part 2), coming soon! Hope you stop by, read and enjoy! =)

[ohtheseboysilove]

Out of luck. [ Ben Hardy x F!Reader]

Words : 6, 200 K +

Warnings : fluff, bit of angst

Summary : You have the most wonderful first date with Ben, wishing nothing more than seeing him again. The only problem is he never text you again after promised to.

Note :  A little fluffy break in all these angsty writing on my tumblr ;))) Hope u like my cutie pies !!

🌼Requests are open🌼☀ Masterlist ☀

The butterflies in your belly were flapping there wings excitedly, bumping around each other due to your melting state. You were completely melting. That was the word. Ben was making you literally melt. He was so sweet, your heart beating so heavily against your chest, everything about him was practically perfect. Handsome, funny, smart and definitively a gentleman. It had been so long since a boy made a such good impression right away, it was exciting. And obviously a bit scary. You had the bad habit to get attached way too quickly before being brutally bring back to the reality. You really hoped this time this guy was serious because you did like him, a lot.

“Let me get that” The beautiful british immediately grabbed the bill from the waitress’s hands, smiling kindly at her.

“No, Ben, we can do half-half” You protested as you took your wallet from your hand bag but he was quicker, slamming notes on the table.

“My treat, love. Don’t fight me on this, I can be very stubborn” He winked at you and stood up as you did the same, he even helped you put your coat on !

You both exited the restaurant, sharing nervous but flustered glances to each other. It was the famous moment did he like the date like I did ? Or was he just polite ?

“Thanks for paying tonight” You smiled softly as you slowly walked on the pavement, hands bumping against each other, the two of you too timid to do the first step. “But I pay the next time” You blurbed out without thinking.

When a grinned broke on his face, your eyes widened as you processed your words, chewing nervously your bottom lip.

“So you want us to have a second date ?” His dimples were popping as he smiled, rather amused by your sudden red cheeks.

“Hum, I– I mean...if you want to–“ You ate half of your words, feeling incredibly dumb under his deep green eyes. “But...it’s alright– we don’t have to...hum see each other again...if you don’t want” You swallowed thickly when you managed to finally spit your answer, biting your nails as you were shitting yourself.

“I’m just teasing love. Of course I want to see you again” The blond stopped walking and grabbed your hand, squeezed it gently. His bright gaze looking sweetly at you. “I spent a really really good evening. I think you’re amazing. And pretty. Very pretty if I may had” Your heart fluttered strongly, drowning in these adorable compliments. He definitely know how to charm a lady.

“Oh, thank you Ben, you’re...really pretty too. I mean handsome!” You cleared your throat under the embarrassment you was creeping on you. How could be always so awkward ? “You’re really handsome too” You added and felt yourself blushed harder at Ben’s staring.

“You’re so bloody adorable” The blond almost giggled, shaking lightly his head. “Can I walk you home ? Don’t want to leave you right now” The british murmured, it was now his turn to have little patches of pink on his cheeks.

“I would love that” You swallowed back a girly giggle when he interlaced his fingers with yours, a wide smile painting on your features. God, you were already crushing too hard on this man.

The walk back to your flat was too short for your taste, a little fifteen minutes filled with laugh, awkward anecdotes and flirty glances. It was around eleven, the night had already coated London’s streets and you felt like these romantic, cheesy movies when you and Ben stopped at the stairs of you flat, looking nervously at each other.

Kiss me! Kiss me! Kiss me! Your mind was screaming silently to Ben, you were too shy to do it first. He was so perfect and you were so...you, it was a bit hard to believe he was really into you. The british probably read in your eyes how much you were hoping he would kiss you or maybe it was the way your gaze kept flicking between his lips to his eyes. It wasn’t your fault, there were incredibly inviting, plump and well-shaped with a light shade of pink. You were sure he was a good kisser, an amazing one, this was–

“Are you with me, love ?” You blinked confusedly at he chuckled gently, biting his bottom lip.

“Sorry I zone out for a second” You confessed with a crimson face. What a creep.

“What were you thinking about ?” Ben asked as he tilted his head to the right side, his thumb rubbing softly on the skin of your hand. His touch was smooth and warm. God you hoped he would kiss you.

“Hum, I– I was thinking about Frankie!” You panicked and blurbed the first thing which came in your mind, slapping mentally yourself.

“You were thinking about my dog ?” He repeated with an arched eyebrow, a confused smile hanging on his pretty face.

“Yeah, I mean she was so cute on the pictures you show me, I can’t wait to meet her” You giggled awkwardly, tucking hairs behind your ears and internally screaming idiot idiot idiot! “God, I’m sorry, I sound so weird! I...so sorry. I don’t know why I said that, I panicked” You added in a flustered tone, he was making too nervous for your own good.

At your total surprise, Ben didn’t looked strangely at you or awkwardly but instead he laughed, pushing you against his chest, his head falling on yours.

“God (Y/N), I swear you need to stop being so bloody cute” You could feel his chest vibrating with chuckles, your hands still interlocked. “You’re too adorable” He let go of your hands and before you could be disappointed from the loss of contact, his large palm went cradling your burning cheeks, making you shivered at the warm and intimate touch. “Bloody adorable. And so pretty. And I really want to kiss you right now, if it’s okay with you” The british whispered the last sentence as you eyes fluttered at the tenderness of the moment. Blood was rushing at your temples and heart beating so quickly.

“Kiss me please” You practically whined, feeling totally overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze. And these perfect lips teasing you.

The blond chuckled at your eagerness before brushing so softly his mouth over that you barely felt it. Bloody cute he murmured against you and dived back on your lips, and this time he gave a real kiss and you definitively felt like in a movie. If it was starting to rain in next minute, you would certainly pinched yourself to be sure you weren’t dreaming.

And there you were, melting again. Melting again his soft, delicious lips perfectly fitting with yours, kissing you over and over again. Your hands naturally found his waist as his own were still holding delicately your face. He stopped when you were both panting, eyes glistering with eagerness and happiness, your heart was bursting with love right now. Ben didn’t say anything and slid his fingers on your hips before bringing your closer, his pillowed lips finding yours in an electrifying way. Your hands travelled on his back, gently rubbed on his broad shoulders before terminating there exploration on his neck, linking behind it. His hot tongue gently grazed on your lower lips, asking for permission and – permission immediately granted – it was an amazing kisser. Not to much tongue or saliva but just the right mix between a hot, deep kiss and still keeping his softness, not throwing a show in the middle of the street.

“Woah” You couldn’t contain yourself when you broke the kiss, taking a step back to have complete look over the blond. “Hum, that was amazing” You murmured with a lovestruck gaze, head a bit dizzy from the overwhelming feeling of joy flooding on you.

He ran a tongue on his lips and you repressed a moan at the sight, this was incredibly hot.

“Agreed. Absolutely amazing” He nodded, his hands tightening around your waist, both of you lost into your gazes. “You’re amazing” He bumped his nose with yours. “Bloody amazing. I can’t wait to see you again” He gently nipped at your bottom lip.

“Me too Ben” you whispered back, your heart feeling heavy at the thought of him going back to his place. You wanted to stay in his arms forever. And once again, if you were in a movie, it was the perfect timing to invite him over for a last drink. Which would end up – ninety percent of chance – with the romantic interest sleeping with the main character. But here the thing, that not something you were comfortable with, usually you needed to know the person better before being intimately with this person. The trust, it was essential for you and invited a man you only saw two times in your life wasn’t in your habit, not at all. But when you looked at him, his sweet smile waiting for you to say these few words, your heart was beating so quickly but not with nervousness...just excitement. You wanted it, so much. So you did it. You pronounced these six words the blond was dying to hear from your mouth. “Would...hum, would you like to come in ?” You blurbed out, wishing he wouldn’t turn you back.

But of course he didn’t. His face litted up right away and shook his head, eagerness rushing through his blood.

“God yes” You both giggled, pink covering your cheeks and gazes sparkling with fondness and something else, much more powerful. Lust. He wanted you, it was all over his eyes, pupils slightly dilated as his large hands were still on your hips, fingers pushing into your exposed flesh. You wanted him as equally.

**

The two glasses of red wine were long forgotten on the coffee table, both of you too busy with each other, exploring bodies with soft, yet hungry touches. Ben was buried between your bare legs, lips alternating between kisses and nibbling on your sensitive flesh as his two of his fingers were inside you, stretching your walls deliciously.

“Oh! Oh! My god!” You squeaked in a horrendous high-pitched voice when Ben’s fingers hit that spot, the one which made your toes curled and your belly twisted in pleasure. Then his pillowed lips found your clit, sucking and twirling his tongue on it and you were done. You came in a strangle scream, against the blond’s thirsty mouth, lapping every drop of your juice until you fell flat on your sofa, your sweaty chest – only covered with this so innocent little white bra – panting as you slowly emerged back from our high. “Shit Ben, was so good” You breathed loudly, a giddy smile floating on your radiant face.

“You taste absolutely delicious, darling. Just like I know you would” His lips were on yours, kissing lazily each other, hands sneaking on your bare arse, pitching it cheekily. “I want you so bad (Y/N), so badly” His raspy voice, coated with need, was murmuring against your mouth, his hips slowly thrusting against your bare center as his hard covered cock was teasing you.

“I want you too, Ben. Want you to feel you inside me” You replied with a moan at the delicious friction was making the knot coming back in your lower belly. “You’re so beautiful” Your nails were gently grazing on his bare chest, your eyes roaming every inch of his magnificent muscles before ending on his perfect features, without a doubt you favourite part to admire.

He chuckled softly at your words, hand rubbing the globe of your ass. “Did you see yourself, love ? You’re gorgeous, fucking hot. Look at these thigh and this pretty pussy” He pressed a simple kiss on it, making you shivered. “So sexy”

So sexy. Ben called you fucking hot and so sexy. The bubbles of pleasure in your lower body were popping as the words sunk into your mind. Not bloody cute or too adorable like he was calling you earlier, which you had love for sure. But being called cute as being half-naked could have been a bit insulting. Depressing ever.

“Do you have a condom ?” He winked playfully and brushing his mouth on your jaw before standing up, only wearing his – now way too tight blue navy underwear. A beautiful sight. He shook the precious square protection and his eyes fell on your ass when you started walking away, motioning him to follow you. Which he did. Eagerly.

Ben wrapped his arms around your back, hands barely grazing on the inside of your thighs and his plump, warm lips found your neck, kissing and biting on the flesh. You let your head fell on his shoulder, your ass pressing strongly against his crotch, his dick poking on your lower back. When you couldn’t take anymore of this teasing, you turned around and grabbed his hand, bringing him with you on your bed. He fell on you, careful to not crushing you and your eager fingers immediately tugged on his waistband, freeing his painfully hard cock. You absent-mindedly bit your lips at the sight, red and leaking. All of this, just for you. And because of you.

“You sure you want that ?” His voice was soft, his eyes searching in your pupils any hesitation. But he didn’t find any. Only an inch of nervousness. “Don’t need to be nervous with me, love” He kissed you, not hungrily like previously but with an adorable sweetness, trying to calm your nerves.

“I want you, Ben. I’m just...nervous because it’s the first time I do something like that and, yeah, it’s making me excited and anxious at the same time” You rambled, fingers tracing the broad muscles of his right shoulder.

“You...you’re a virgin ?” The blond asked with a surprised voice, his green eyes rounds and confused.

You furrowed your brows and thought about what you just said. And yes indeed, it was pretty confusing. You giggled awkwardly.

“Oh my god, no ! That’s not what I meant, I’m not a virgin. Not at all !” You exclaimed, shaking your head with burning cheeks. Then you blushed even more, fuck, now he was probably thinking you were some kind of cheap whore, throwing yourself at every men you saw. “Shit, I’m not saying I sleep with all the country either ! God, I’m so awkward, I’m sorry”

You were crimson, feeling utterly stupid and a real cockblocker this moment. You should have kept your mouth shut instead of ruining the mood with your clumsiness.

“Love, relax, alright ? Don’t need to apologise for anything” Ben chuckled gently. “Tell me what bothering you”

“Nothing, it’s just the first time I’m sleeping with someone on a first date” You confessed and felt like a poor little girl, making a fuss of nothing. “I know it’s not a big deal but I usually wait longer and so I feel a bit nervous, I don’t want to regret it. If you don’t call me back after or something” You mumbled and rambled, eyes looking everywhere except in Ben’s direction. You were so embarrassed.

“Hey, look at me” His finger grabbed your chin and you said as he did, feeling vulnerable under his intense gaze. The fact you were naked only added more shyness on you. “I’m not forcing you into anything. If you want us to wait, we will. I’m not gonna sleep with you then disappeared, I’m not this kind of guy. I’m honest, if I want a one-night-stand, I would have tell you. But I don’t. I want to see you again, doesn’t matter if we have sex or not tonight”

You nodded timidly. Where did you found such a perfect gentleman ? You thought it was an extinct species.

“I really, really want you Ben” You replied before snapping the condom from his hands. You tear the wrapping and checked with Ben if he was okay with that before you rolled down the condom on his hard length, earning delicious little grunts from the gesture.

“Fuck, (Y/N), you driving me crazy” Ben groaned when you put your legs opened, inviting him closer to you. He grabbed his dick and slowly rubbed the tip against your wet folds, your breathing increasing at the sweet torture.

The blond moved his hips and gradually entered into you, both of you cursing and moaning at the feeling. God, it felt so good.

**

The next moments were spent with hungry and eager touches, your fingers lost into his blond locks, legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

His thumb circling on your throbbing clit, making you saw starts.

His hips snapping against yours, slowly then quickly, fastening the pace at your pleading cries.

His delicious, pillowed lips kissing every inch of your exposed breasts, nibbling at your tits, tongue swirling around, making your back arched.

You walls involuntarily clenching around him when he hit the sweet spots he touched earlier with his fingers, giving you even more pleasure with his length into you this time.

Your bodies were interlaced together, both of you shivering, the heavy atmosphere smelling sex and sweat. A mixing you never thought you could enjoy that much.

There were grunts and moans escaping your throats. Whines, cries and whimpers were too, especially when you were right on the edge. Pleading and begging echoing through the bedroom as Ben worshipped every part of your body.

You kissed. So many times. Hotly and messily. Sloppily and deeply. Tongues brushing around each other until your out of breath. Love-bits left on his strong jaw before licking at the pretty bruise.

When you both came, you were panting but smiling dizzily, still recovering from the high you both reached. You didn’t regret it at all.

**

“I have to go” Ben whispered as he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, smiling at your sleepy face.

“Call me hum ?” You replied with a grin as he winked at you and left the room, murmuring a I will.

He had to go back at his place at an indecent early hours in the morning, to prepare himself for an important meeting during the same day. You were a bit frustrated to see him left so soon but you would see him another day, hopefully this week.

**

You were eating lunch in an old pub with one of your closest friend Tina, eager to tell her about your date night with the beautiful British. Okay you maybe kept under silence the fact that you slept with him. You loved your friend to death but she was a bit pessimistic and you didn’t need her to freak out and made you doubt too.

“Oh I swear Tina, he is such a sweetheart! And he was so funny and easy-going ya know ? I feel like I know him since forever” You gushed with dreamy eyes, chewing at a piece of bread.

“Well someone seems really into this guy” She gave you a warning look, taking a mouthful of her fish and chips.

You rolled your eyes at her reaction. "I know what you’re thinking but I swear he’s a good guy” You smiled softly at the thought of the cute face of Ben. "I’m not doing the same mistake twice okay ? I know he likes me too”

You had the bad habit to get yourself attached to quickly, friendly and romantically speaking and often ended disappointed. But this time you were sure Ben wasn’t taking advantage of you, you were a nice girl but not stupid.

“I’m happy for you (Y/N) but I’m also worried, I don’t want to see you hurt again” Tina smiled gently and took a sip of her tap water as you nodded, appreciating her protective behaviour over you. She saw you crying over men too many times. “Did he text you yet ?”

“Nop. But he told me he have some busy days coming so it’s alright” You replied with a shrug. “He will text me soon”

**

But he didn’t. Your date had been on the Sunday night and now it was Wednesday evening and still nothing. You were angry and nervous. And hugely disappointed. You knew he would be busy at work but a simple text wasn’t too much to ask.

You were mopping around in your flat, wondering if you should text him first. You did really like him.

“Why do you think Flynn ? Should I text him ?” Your black cat opened an eyes at the sound of his name — napping on the dinner table rather than in his bed — and let out of yawn before buried back his head under his paws, ignoring you royally. “Yeah you’re right. Let’s give him a last shot”

You pulled off your phone and searched for his contact name. Your fingers nervously drumming on the sofa, thinking about what you would say. You didn’t want to so sound to eager or bitter about the fact that he had been ghosting you for the past three days. But you didn’t want him to think you weren’t interested at all. You needed the perfect mix between that. You typed and deleted about twenty times before sending your text, heart beating awfully quickly about your ribs cage.

(Y/N) : Hey Ben, hope everything is okay at works. I was wondering if you were free Friday night for a drink ?

You were rather proud of your — casual but polite — text. Now you just needed to wait for his answer.

**

Which never came. You were livid. It was Friday night and you were at your place, cursing about Ben to your poor cat. You felt so fucking naive, he fucked you and now he was ignoring you, he already had what he wanted. How typical coming from a man. You were supposed to go out with your friends tonight, in your usual and favourite pub but that where you had your date with Ben…the thought of maybe seeing him chatting other girls made your stomach churned. What a fool you had been, once again.

“Nah, sorry I’m feeling a bit sick. Maybe next weekend ?” You lied to your friend on the phone and cancelled every plans for the weekend. You were just feeling dumb and incredibly naive. Not in a mood to go out.

**

On Wednesday lunch, you were meeting with Tina in the new salad bar. You joined her at her table and fell on the seat with a defeated face.

“You were right” You murmured, your eyes staring blankly at the menu. “Why I always go for the fuck boys and the assholes ?”

“He didn’t text you back ?” You shook your head and rested it in your head, elbow propped on the table. "What a wanker” She sighed and cursed under her breath.

“I was so sure this time Tina ! He was so nice and all” You grunted in your hands, cheeks reddening at the feeling of shame. Ben probably had a good laugh when you made him promise to call you back.

“I know hun, men are really in pretending. Everything to sleep with a girl they want to. They’re pathetic, selfish and stupid creature” You chuckled bitterly at her words.

“I…I slept with him after our date” You blurbed out, it was even worse to admit. You were that girl who childishly thought after sleeping with your date, he would really call you back.

“You what ?” Tina’s eyes were rounds and shocked. But she wasn’t judging you, she had a fair share to first-date-shag too. She was just really surprise because like you said to Ben, it wasn’t something you did, ever.

“Yeah, (Y/N) finally trust a man enough to fuck with him on the first night and he never called her back, I’m a joke” You sighed bitterly. "I hate men”

“Me too, hun, me too”

**

“That’s it (Y/N), you’re coming with me tonight” You were buried under your cover, the new season of Stranger Things playing on your laptop. “We’re going to our pub and if you see Ben, then you could tell him to go fuck himself” Tina threw the cover away, making you whined pathetically.

“I watching something, can’t go out” You contested with a pout.

The truth was, you were feeling a bit — a lot — insecure after Ben ghosting on you. The date went so well, the sex even better, great alchemy between the two of you, so why did he never called you back ? It made you feel awkward and ashamed, saying he liked you then dumbed you like a dirty sock. Naive little (Y/N).

“Come on, jump in the shower. You shouldn’t watch that show, these kids have a better love life than the both of us” You threw her a pillow and reluctantly walked to your bathroom.

You needed to get over it. Alright, a boy lied to you in order to have sex with you and you stupidly believed him, and what ? You weren’t the first to fall in the trap and certainly not the last one. You will go out for a drink with your friends and have fun. And Ben could go fuck himself.

**

You were wearing your pale pink dress, it was really nice to wear because of the thin garnishment and it was falling above the knees with simple shoulders straps. You felt cute, not hot or sexy but simply cute. And that was just what you wanted. Not an inch of flirting tonight, you were out with your girlfriends and were strongly decided to not speak to a word or gave a glance to any man inside this pub, they were all devilish. Okay, maybe an exception for the barman because you would definitely need alcohol tonight.

You entered the pub with your three other friends around six in the afternoon and it was already difficult to find a good spot. You managed to get a booth for the four of you and you immediately felt better to be outside. You already gave to much attention to Ben, mopping about him for way too long.

"I’m gonna order our drinks, girls ?” Stacy asked as she stood up, asking silently your orders.

Everyone answered beers expect you.

“Sex on the beach hum ? Feeling frisky tonight (Y/N) ?” She winked at you.

“Just need to relax and have some fun after an exhausting week of boring work” You replied, trying your best to sound casual. The last three weeks had been spent thinking about Ben and why he never called back but that was your ashamed little secret. Only Tina was aware of it.

You chatted for a good thirty minutes, sipping your cocktail and cackling at your friends’ stories before the need to pee was to urgent to just ignore it. After doing your business, you washed your hands and exited the bathroom, drying your hands on your dress. You stopped at the pub and ordered another cocktail, humming quietly at the song playing by the band.

“Hi (Y/N)” You turned your head quickly, feeling cheeks burning with anger. No fucking way. “Listen, I know what you’re thinking but–“

You didn’t let him finish and threw your drink at his face as soon the barman slid it in front of you. The blond gasped in surprise at the coldness of the drink then wiped away the alcohol from his eyes.

“Asshole” You spat before waving at the bar for another drink, doing your best to ignore the blond at your side.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry but I swear it’s not like its look like !” Ben grabbed some napkin some the counter and patted them on his soaking face and tee-shirt. “Let me explain, please !”

“You’re fucking funny. So you didn’t get in my pants and never called me after ? Telling me specifically that you would call me ?” You groaned without looking at him, you were angry and feeling humiliated. Why he was even talking to you.

“Yes but–“

“Save it Ben. You’re an asshole who can’t even have the balls to tell a girl he just want a one-night-stand, it’s so easier to lie and promise thing. It worked with me” You cut him bitterly.

You read somewhere that men regretted the girls they didn’t sleep with but woman regretted boys they slept with. It was feeling absolutely so relating right now.

“I wanted to call you ! I wanted so badly !” He replied with desperation, feeling you slipping between his fingers.

“Why didn’t you then ?” You asked with an angry tone, arms crossed and death stare on him. “Find someone else to fuck ?”

“Jesus, no ! I broke my phone, okay ?” He dug into his pocket and took at his phone, his sticky digits – from your cocktail – were leaving print of the black screen. “Here, see ? New phone !” You glance at the phone and humphed sarcastically, not really convinced by the trick. You didn’t remember which iPhone he had during your date so honestly it didn’t change anything to your pissed-off mood.

“Great for you” You shrugged as you slid a note to the barman, taking your drink in your hand, ready to go back to your table.

“(Y/N), I swear I’m not lying ! I really like you, really really like you !” He grabbed your forearm and made you puppy-eyes, making your heart cracked up for a quick second. “Let me explain, please. I felt horrible for the past three weeks, thinking about you and how mad you probably were about me. I didn’t plan to ghost you after sleeping with you, I’m not like that” These big greenish eyes were sweating with sincerity and it made you doubted for a moment.

“You got five minutes” You moved his hand away from your arm and lay against the counter, sipping your cocktail.

“Okay, when I left your flat monday morning, I went home and I dropped my phone in the fish tank of my little nephew” The blond quickly explained, his face flushed with pink. “I know, it sound like a fucking lie but it’s not ! My sister went on holiday and I pet-siting the family gold fish, I was feeding him and answering a work e-mail at the same time and it just...slid off my hands, right into the water” He chewed nervously his lips, his pretty eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, desperate to make you believe him.

You shifted uncomfortably, he seemed sincere but how could you be sure of that ?

“And I couldn’t tell you because your number was on the phone ! I went to the phone shop but I couldn’t get back any numbers so I was screw. And I couldn’t remember where you lived, I felt so dumb but every building look the same and I didn’t know if yours was the 25A or 52A” Ben gave a timid smile, rubbing his neck in nervous gesture.

“It’s 140B” You commented with an amused grin, his face falling as he cursed loudly.

“Shit. I wasn’t close at all” His large palm found his forehead as he shook his head, murmuring about how stupid he was. “But I really wanted to see again ya know ? And the only thing I knew for sure that this pub was your favourite, so I came back here after work for the past three weeks, until I find you. Tonight.” You widened your eyes at his confession and his neck went crimson. “God, that sound a bit creepy, sorry” He added with awkward chuckle.

“You...you’re really did that ?” Now it was your cheeks which went pink. If that story was true, it was certainly flattering.

“Yes, I did ! You can ask the barman, he was worried to see me here every night. He even gave me a tract for Alcoholic Anonymous meeting” Ben replied eagerly, relief rolling on him as you weren’t not so defensive anymore. You hid a giggle behind your hand and looked at the barman, wondering if it was true or if you were just being naive. Ben caught your questioning gaze and called the barman. “Hey man, can you tell this pretty girl here, that I was there every night during the past three weeks ?”

“He is not lying, I found that a bit weird because I never saw him here and suddenly, he was there every nights the pub was opened. Then he told me it was about a girl and it wasn��t surprising anymore” The ginger man shrugged and went back to his work as Ben thanked him with a satisfied smile.

“See ? I was really hoping you would come back here” He said with a low voice, the atmosphere between the two of you had change at the revelation. Butterflies going crazy in your belly as you realised all of this story was just a big misunderstanding. “I am so sorry, I never planned to make you feel like I just used you for sex. I’m so glad you came here tonight and gave me a chance to explain” You curled your lips into a loving smile, he was so sweet. God, you were so relieved to hear that.

“I’m sorry for the drink” You said, your eyes looking at the big stain on his white tee-shirt. “And for the not really nice things I said to you earlier” Your cheeks flushed and Ben shook his head, bottom lip trapped between his pearly white teeth.

“Nah, it’s okay, I deserved it. I mean, that’s a normal reaction for what you thought I did to you” Both of your hands were on the counter, few millimetre away from each other, craving for some touches.  His pads carefully brushed over your fingers, testing the water and you immediately interlaced them together, giving a little smile. “Can you give me another chance ?” The blond murmured with hope.

“Okay” You replied simply, heart bursting with joy. “I’m sorry I already bitched about you to my friends” You added with a giggle, both of you could feel the nasty glances from your friends.

“I guessed you did, yes. I’m gonna leave you with your friends before they bit my head off” He handed you his phone and you typed your number for the second time, hoping this time was the last one. “Can I see you tomorrow ?” His voice was nervous and hopeful, kicking the nest of butterflies in your stomach. “And no sex, I want to prove you that I’m not seeing you only for that. I mean, it’s definitively a bonus but if you want for us to wait six months before going back at it, I’m totally in, I don’t care”

You melted at his adorable face, flushed and stressed, his thumb rubbed on the flesh of your hand absent-mindedly. You chuckled and slid your free hand on his face, caressing his cheek softly. You bowed your head and gave him a kiss on the lips. He seemed surprise but didn’t think twice before kissing you back, his mouth smiling widely against yours, in a long but soft embrace.

“We don’t have to wait six months Ben” He breathed an oh thanks god, making you cackled. “What do you have in mind for tomorrow ?” You hand fell on his shoulder, rubbing it lazily.

“You could come with me and Frankie, we planned to have a little picnic in Richmond park, maybe a nap and some tanning. Oh, and of course, barking and running behind every ducks from the lake” You nodded with a grin. “If I remember correctly, you were pretty eager to meet my little girl, weren’t you ?” He teased you about the stupid comment you made when he was about to kiss you at your first date.

“Oh shut up” You slapped lightly his chest and your heart buzzed at his irresistible laugh. “If you drop the teasing about this awkward memory, I would to come with you and Frankie tomorrow”

“Everything you want, love” Love. The come back of the pet name made you pinched your lips harshly, keeping for yourself the giddy smile menacing to appear on your face.

“It’s a date then” You murmured and when he pressed his lips back on yours, a sweet sigh escaped your parted mouth, savouring his delicious taste. “Text me when do you want us to meet, okay ?” You squeezed his hands and walked back to your friends as he exited the pub, both of you sharing a last loving gaze.

“Girl, what was that ! Who is that hot guy ? Was it the one who didn’t call you back ? You kissed him ! Girl ! ” You friends harassed you at the very second you came back at the table but you didn’t mind, a woozy grin was floating on your features.

A little half and hour later, you felt your phone vibrated in your pocket. Ben. You bit your lower lip with excitement.

Ben : 11h30 tomorrow ? Would it work for you ?

Before you could type an answer, a second text appeared on your screen.

Ben : Ben sent you a picture.

It was a photo of his fridge and stuck with a magnet was a little post-it. On it was wrote (Y/N) : 07818******

Ben : Just in case something happened to my phone before tomorrow morning...don’t want to lose you again. Can’t wait to see you xx

You let an excited and girly scream of joy leaving your mouth, belly bubbling with delight and happiness, earning a surprise glance from your friends.

“God, he is such a sweetheart !”

**

[louistomlinsoncouk]

Louis Tomlinson is sticking to his guns

The tension between image and reality is a much-discussed phenomenon within fandoms, and has been a particularly prevalent conversation amongst One Direction fans in recent years.

Fans love the same person, but each one adores a slightly different version – we take what we need from interviews, performances, and tweets and we form our own idealised image. And yet, whilst those images are based on reality, none of them are entirely accurate.

When faced with the reality of their idol, how would you feel? I’d never had to think too deeply about it before, but suddenly the question weighs heavily on my mind as a One Direction fan about to interview Louis Tomlinson.

He walks into the room for our interview wearing tracksuit bottoms and a yellow jumper that, in recent months, I had become incredibly accustomed to seeing him in. He hugs me and introduced himself as Louis – as if I didn’t know – and then sits down on the floor. It's a move that reminds me of lazy afternoons at my best mates’ houses, and as I move to sit down opposite him, it's hard not to feel immediately comfortable. It's my first big indication that he is exactly the person I'd always believed him to be: laid back and easy to be around. That impression doesn't change throughout our interview.

We begin by talking about what Tomlinson's long-anticipated solo album is going to sound like. Based on the eclectic sounds of the four previously released singles, it’s difficult to judge. “It’s kind of been an educational thing for me,” he explains to me, “a chance to experiment”.

When Steve Aoki asked him to collaborate on a song, “Just Hold On”, he “hadn’t been 100% sure [he] wanted to do anything in the solo world,” but it was too good an opportunity to pass up. “It was a bit of a dream of mine to play festivals like Ultra, which I did with Steve, and it was wicked”.

The time spent working on and promoting “Just Hold On” made Tomlinson realise solo releases were something he wanted to do, but he found it hard to combine where his interests lay musically, what he knew the fans wanted to hear, and “working out where that fits on radio.”

“There’s a lot of frustration on my end with where radio is at. There’s a lot of rap and hip-hop and that’s not really my taste – I’ve never been great in that world, you know.” We laugh about the idea of him trying to fit into that genre, and I fondly recall a jokey Twitter conversation between Tomlinson and One Direction bandmate Niall Horan about that very topic. Tomlinson also explai that “everything felt like [he] was starting again,” and how that was a little bit daunting – which is what made that first song so helpful.

“I was used to having three or four other lads around, so this all felt very different. I think it was cool for me, getting back into the swing of releasing music and doing promo and all that, going through that process with Steve at the start and then with Bebe [Rexha, who features on his second single ‘Back To You’].”

Feature slots on other people’s songs allowed Tomlinson to gradually get used to a new way of doing things, and gave him a chance to figure out his musical identity on the go. “I felt like I had a bit of room to experiment, [because it was] shared. I kind of went into their world with those songs a bit.”

“I’m trying to strive for credible and live-sounding, rather than overproduced and programmed.”

I ask if third and fourth singles, “Just Like You” and “Miss You”, are more indicative of the overall sound of his debut LP? Tomlinson nods then shakes his head in quick succession. “‘Miss You’ was a little bit more… I suppose you could say pop-punk,” he muse, soon adding that “I’m trying to strive for credible and live-sounding, rather than overproduced and programmed.” He indicates that ­– in that respect – “Miss You” is a strong indicator of what’s to come.

“Just Like You” seems to be the track Tomlinson is most proud of, and indeed most sure of its place within the record. It’s a song about how the differences in our circumstances do not mean we experience emotions any differently, and he admits that “it was a difficult one [to write].”

“I think that concept doesn’t normally work well ‘cause it just sounds like a whingey celebrity song.” He remains “super conscious” of that whilst writing it, as he was sure it was “a message [he] wanted to get out to the fans.”

“It was one I was happy with [too], because when someone listens to one of my songs I like them to be able to take something away from it, [I like them] to learn something about me.” It’s a song peppered with anecdotal lines and little details that reveal a lot about who Louis Tomlinson really is; what he really cares about. That’s certainly what he’s aiming for throughout his music.

“My lyrical style, naturally, is to just be matter of fact, honest, and sometimes blunt.” Some messages, Tomlinson suggests, are made even more powerful with metaphors – as in “Just Hold On” – but mostly, he says, “I don’t like being clever for the sake of being clever. Sometimes it’s cool to read between the lines.”

What he prefers as a listener is more of what he describes as a “brutal storyboard”. He references early Arctic Monkeys and the latest Liam Gallagher record – “I absolutely rinsed that” – as places he takes inspiration from. “It was really interesting to hear [Gallagher] talk like that [on 2017’s As You Were], it was like a breath of fresh air.”

We approach the subject of new single, “Two Of Us”, which I hear just before he arrives. The song has a particular, moving honesty that will surely touch not only fans but much of the general public. “I kind of shied away from writing that song because I didn’t really think I was ready to [go through that process] yet,” Tomlinson says, explaining how the track just happened. “I got into a session and we ended up getting into it, and it was going perfectly.” He notes that it was “a much more emotionally draining situation [in the studio] than [he’s] used to”, but also “one of the most fulfilling.”

“I really did want to write this song, I was just intimidated at first because it had to be perfect. There had to be little things in there that were really thought-provoking for me.”

Is he was satisfied with the song in its final form? “I feel like we got the whole message across perfectly," he tells me confidently. "How I felt before and how I feel now. I’m really happy with where it’s finished up.” There is a hint of nerves in his tone – understandable given how personal the song is – but he is reassured by my assertion that people will love it.

"Everyone has a different writing style. But when you do find that person or that group and it feels like you’re all on the same page, it really is an amazing feeling."

I wonder aloud whether the writing process for “Two Of Us” was made more difficult by the fact that he was writing with strangers, rather than the established group he worked with on One Direction material. “I think the way I were brought up and also where I’m from, I’ve got no problem just sitting here and spilling it out to anyone,” Tomlinson admits. “I’m sure sometimes I catch people off guard when I just spill half my life story and they’ve known me ten minutes, but it’s how you get the best out of a song.” He suggests that although “it was great having the group that we had in the band,” he feels like he’s learning more as a writer now. “It’s more challenging this time around. I’ve had to be a lot more engaged and take a real interest in the little things about what makes a great song.”

That’s not to say there are no downsides to working with new people at times: “I’m not going to say that every session I’ve been in has been amazing because there have definitely been some eggy ones. Everyone has a different writing style. But when you do find that person or that group and it feels like you’re all on the same page, it really is an amazing feeling”.

We talk about his his plans for touring, and I can't help but ask if he'll be performing any One Direction songs. His fellow bandmates all brought a few forward to their own tours, and – as arguably the main writer within the band – Tomlinson has the most to choose from. The subject makes him grin: “I’ll be doing as many as I can get away with.”

Tomlinson has already performed “Little Black Dress” from Midnight Memories back in 2017 – “it sounds better live than what we recorded on track” – and knows the fans will be expecting Four’s “No Control”, as it's always been very much considered his song: “The fans really got behind that one, and it always went down amazing on the tour shows. It’s a good sing-along one.”

He mentions a few others, name-checking “one of [his] favourite songs [he] wrote for the band,” “Love You Goodbye”, and fan favourite “Home”, amongst some more unexpected ones from the band’s back catalogue. Rather than looking towards the big singles, Tomlinson’s focus is on those he’s most proud of lyrically and musically – ones that, if he brings them on tour, will be deeply appreciated by the band’s most dedicated followers.

We return to the matter at hand: his upcoming album. The singer shows some regret at how long it’s taken him to finish – but also a flush of pride in sticking to his guns. “After ‘Just Hold On’, I could’ve just followed the trends on radio, but it felt important to me to work out exactly who I was as an artist," he says. "I know myself, and I’m happy to let [the album] go.”

Tomlinson wants to feel confident that when the album gets released, his self-knowledge will be reflected in his first solo full-length. He explains that, even now, he finds it frustrating at times because he wants to put music out and go on tour, but it wouldn’t be right to push: “The fans have been waiting so long, I owe it to them now to not rush anything. It would be silly now to just rush it out.”

I asked if the time frame has affected how he feels about any of the songs, or what they mean to him? After all, a lot can happen in two years. “Not really, because when I started writing this album, what I wanted was for it to play chronologically. I mean, the longer things take the harder this becomes to pull off, but it’s still something I want to do. It’s got to feel like you get to know what’s been happening for the past three years of my life. Although with some songs on the album I might not feel like that now, I know I did then and I still want to tell that story.”

Tomlinson’s a story is one fans are eager to hear, for sure, but one which will – no doubt – be of interest to wider audiences too.

Whatever is coming, Louis Tomlinson’s debut record is not an album people will be expecting from the One Direction star, nor one that will sit easily amongst the current chart toppers. But that’s a good thing. It’s exciting. And it’s definitely something worth waiting for.

[randomoranges]

amnesia au part 150

--

It was a perfect September day – still warm during the day, but cooling off in the evening. As was their new bi-monthly usual, Jacques and Étienne went out for lunch at a local diner close to home. Jacques had found out about this family run place when he had first moved to Trois-Rivières, many years ago, and it had become an instant favourite. It was a small, quaint place, served hot dogs, hamburgers and poutines and was appreciated by all who came here. He liked taking the kids here and sometimes even came with just Suzette and ever since Étienne was staying with him, he had extended the invitation to his brother. It gave them a chance to catch up away from the rest of the family and some quality brother time.

“Alright, spill, what’s on your mind? You’ve been fidgety all day,” Jacques said after he took a bite of his burger. From across the wooden picnic table, Étienne gave him a small, sheepish smile and stole a fry from him. Jacques didn’t say anything about it and made sure his brother could reach out for as many fries as he wanted. It was good to see his appetite returning.

The first time they had come here, Étienne had barely managed a handful of stolen fries and half a can of iced tea. Little by little, his food intake had increased and Jacques was more than happy to let Étienne eat as much of the shared poutine as he wanted to and have all the fries his heart desired.

“So, I’ve been thinking, I think I’d like to go back home – soon...” Étienne finally told him. He spared his brother a glance and Jacques was surprised by the news. He liked having Étienne around. It would be strange to see him go, even though he always knew that eventually Étienne would leave, but if his brother was thinking of heading home, then that was also a good thing. It meant he was healing.

“Oh? Did you have a date in mind?”

“In a month or so? Maybe after Thanksgiving? If that’s okay with you and you don’t want me out sooner,” He joked and Jacques rolled his eyes at him and flicked the bottle cap of his own soda at him.

“You know we don’t mind having you over – you’re more than welcome to stay for as long as you want.”

“I know – and really, thanks again for literally everything.”

Jacques reached over for his hand and gave it a warm squeeze, “Of course – you’re family, but you know the kids are gonna miss you like crazy.”

“I know,” Étienne pouted, “I’m gonna miss them too! If you think you’ve got your hands full, I’d be more than willing to take one or two with me,” He grinned at his brother and Jacques laughed at his antics.

“Jokes put aside though, d’you have a plan, for when you go back?”

Étienne was quiet as he munched on another fry, “I’m not sure yet – I mean, I gotta keep up with physio and therapy, but I guess I gotta see if I can get cleared to work – or start working... that’s what I keep getting stuck on – what do I do when I get back? Everyone works or has families of their own – there are a lot of hours in a day when you can’t properly function...” He sighed a bit at that. He was still working on his list with Dre. Labonté and he knew there were certain things he could do. Work wise, if he got the clear, then he could hopefully start on some small project and build up. He didn’t need to get involved with multiple projects all at once, but one at a time sounded feasible.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, you always do,” Jacques reassured him with a kind smile.

“Y’know, I’m gonna miss hanging out like this with you, believe it or not,” Jacques added after a lapsed moment of silence. “Reminded me of when we were kids,” His brother smiled softly at that. “I remember when you were little and you’d come and sit in my room, when you were tired of playing with El,” Étienne laughed at the memory. There had been so many of those instances.

“Yeah? And I somehow remember you not being very thrilled when we had to room together once El and I got too old to share and Sam moved.” They exchanged a look at that, straight faced and all, before breaking out in matching grins.

“I had finally gotten my own room! Sam had finally left! I had space! And then my annoying kid brother had to come and crash in. How would you have felt?”

They’d had this discussion thousands of times before and Étienne knew his brother was kidding around with him. Jacques had been mildly put off at his loss of freedom, but he’d adapted and they’d cohabitated nicely. Jacques had even said he’d been a better roommate than Samuel.

“At least you were a boy. I had to share with El for twelve years.” Jacques gave his hand a sympathetic pat.

“And I had to share with Sam for close to fifteen years, so there.”

He had a point on that.

“Still, you fucked off to here after you were done with Cégep, so really, El and I won in the end and got our own rooms.”

“Which you didn’t even properly appreciate since you moved out, like, two years later.”

“The commute to school was garbage and it was getting awkward bringing anyone home to sleep with.”

“I’ll give you that much.”

“I still remember that summer I came over to see you and you introduced me to Suzie,” Étienne started, smiling softly. It had been right after Jacques’ first year of university. He was staying here, since he’d gotten a summer job. Étienne remembered their parents being a little disappointed Jacques wouldn’t be coming home for the summer break. Étienne had been feeling restless and had decided on a whim to go and visit his brother. The change of scenery would do him good and he’d figured they could go out, pick up, and do whatever for a week or two. But then he’d arrived and his brother had been tongue-tied and shy and it had made Étienne suspicious.

“You were such a goner for her already,” He teased and it was amusing how Jacques’ cheeks coloured slightly, even after all these years. “I still remember getting to your place in the morning and you’d gotten the dates mixed up. And you were such a dishevelled mess. I was about to tease the hell out of you, but then Suzette came out of your room wearing your shirt and I swear to God I thought you were gonna die on the spot.” Étienne laughed richly at the memory. Jacques had tried stammering out some wild excuse, but Étienne had simply clapped him on the back and then introduced himself to Suzette, before stepping out for a smoke to give them both some time to straighten themselves out.

“From that first day I knew you were gonna marry her,” Étienne looked back to his brother and shook his head, amused. Even after all these years, four kids and their own ups and downs, Jacques was still head over heels for her. If ever there was a poster couple for love... it was them. He’d looked up to their relationship for so long. Had wondered how it was possible for anyone to be so much in love. Spending the summer with them now, it had reminded him of that and at times, he’d even been a little jealous of what his brother had.

“Yeah, well, speak for yourself, kiddo, you weren’t exactly smooth with Edward either,” Jacques’ eyes widened and he apologised for bringing him up, but Étienne assured him that it was fine. Edward had been part of their lives for a long time, it was only normal that he’d come up in their stories. Plus, he was getting better at this.

“Go on, pray do tell, how was I not the epitome of smooth? I thought I had it under control,” He challenged and Jacques cackled. In his opinion, Étienne had been far from smooth.

“Look, before Edward you’d barely even brought anyone home. There was Geneviève when you were in high school, right, that was her name? You went out with her for two years? Went to prom with her?” Étienne nodded at that, “And then there was Marc-Antoine when you were in Cégep.” Étienne remembered them both fondly. Had it not been for Marc-Antoine moving out to the middle of nowhere for university, they might have still been a thing, and Geneviève was still a friend he spoke to regularly. “Other than that, you never brought anyone home or told us about anyone you were seeing, unlike Sam who brought everyone home from guys he met the night before to those he’d been seeing for three plus months.”

Étienne groaned at that. Samuel really was the worst when it came to bringing “significant others” home. Their parents had always been very encouraging, but Étienne wished they had set the foot down for anyone who hadn’t been in the portrait for at least two consecutive months.

“Anyways. When you brought Edward home that first Christmas? Before you were dating? I knew he’d show up again.”

“How – we weren’t even dating?”

“Because, if you bothered bringing someone home it meant they were special and important to you. That you really liked them. Plus, you kept on giving him the most stupid moony looks at him whenever he wasn’t looking at you. It was really pathetic, if you really want to know.”

Étienne flicked the bottle cap back at him. “I was not pathetic and I wasn’t giving him moony looks.” He defended, even though he knew it was a lost cause.

“Whatever you say, but I’ll have you know that when you did bring him back as a boyfriend, it was even worse. But it was also sweet – the way you made sure to introduce him to everyone in the family and how you included him in the conversations or explained a back story to some anecdote. I could tell he meant a lot to you, even if you didn’t know it yet...”

“I was just looking out for him! You did the same with Suzie.”

“I know, that’s why I knew he’d be around for a while.”

Étienne could tell that his cheeks were burning up but he did his best to ignore it and stole his brother’s pickle off his plate as retaliation. Jacques laughed and let him be for now.

--

PREVIOUS: CXLIX

CURRENT: CL

NEXT: CLI

[dailytomlinson]

Fans love the same person, but each one adores a slightly different version – we take what we need from interviews, performances, and tweets and we form our own idealised image. And yet, whilst those images are based on reality, none of them are entirely accurate. When faced with the reality of their idol, how would you feel? I’d never had to think too deeply about it before, but suddenly the question weighs heavily on my mind as a One Direction fan about to interview Louis Tomlinson. He walks into the room for our interview wearing tracksuit bottoms and a yellow jumper that, in recent months, I had become incredibly accustomed to seeing him in. He hugs me and introduced himself as Louis – as if I didn’t know – and then sits down on the floor. It's a move that reminds me of lazy afternoons at my best mates’ houses, and as I move to sit down opposite him, it's hard not to feel immediately comfortable. It's my first big indication that he is exactly the person I'd always believed him to be: laid back and easy to be around. That impression doesn't change throughout our interview. ADVERTISEMENT We begin by talking about what Tomlinson's long-anticipated solo album is going to sound like. Based on the eclectic sounds of the four previously released singles, it’s difficult to judge. “It’s kind of been an educational thing for me,” he explains to me, “a chance to experiment”. When Steve Aoki asked him to collaborate on a song, “Just Hold On”, he “hadn’t been 100% sure [he] wanted to do anything in the solo world,” but it was too good an opportunity to pass up. “It was a bit of a dream of mine to play festivals like Ultra, which I did with Steve, and it was wicked”. The time spent working on and promoting “Just Hold On” made Tomlinson realise solo releases were something he wanted to do, but he found it hard to combine where his interests lay musically, what he knew the fans wanted to hear, and “working out where that fits on radio.” “There’s a lot of frustration on my end with where radio is at. There’s a lot of rap and hip-hop and that’s not really my taste – I’ve never been great in that world, you know.” We laugh about the idea of him trying to fit into that genre, and I fondly recall a jokey Twitter conversation between Tomlinson and One Direction bandmate Niall Horan about that very topic. Tomlinson also explai that “everything felt like [he] was starting again,” and how that was a little bit daunting – which is what made that first song so helpful. “I was used to having three or four other lads around, so this all felt very different. I think it was cool for me, getting back into the swing of releasing music and doing promo and all that, going through that process with Steve at the start and then with Bebe [Rexha, who features on his second single ‘Back To You’].” Feature slots on other people’s songs allowed Tomlinson to gradually get used to a new way of doing things, and gave him a chance to figure out his musical identity on the go. “I felt like I had a bit of room to experiment, [because it was] shared. I kind of went into their world with those songs a bit.” “I’m trying to strive for credible and live-sounding, rather than overproduced and programmed.” I ask if third and fourth singles, “Just Like You” and “Miss You”, are more indicative of the overall sound of his debut LP? Tomlinson nods then shakes his head in quick succession. “‘Miss You’ was a little bit more… I suppose you could say pop-punk,” he muse, soon adding that “I’m trying to strive for credible and live-sounding, rather than overproduced and programmed.” He indicates that ­– in that respect – “Miss You” is a strong indicator of what’s to come. “Just Like You” seems to be the track Tomlinson is most proud of, and indeed most sure of its place within the record. It’s a song about how the differences in our circumstances do not mean we experience emotions any differently, and he admits that “it was a difficult one [to write].” “I think that concept doesn’t normally work well ‘cause it just sounds like a whingey celebrity song.” He remains “super conscious” of that whilst writing it, as he was sure it was “a message [he] wanted to get out to the fans.” “It was one I was happy with [too], because when someone listens to one of my songs I like them to be able to take something away from it, [I like them] to learn something about me.” It’s a song peppered with anecdotal lines and little details that reveal a lot about who Louis Tomlinson really is; what he really cares about. That’s certainly what he’s aiming for throughout his music. “My lyrical style, naturally, is to just be matter of fact, honest, and sometimes blunt.” Some messages, Tomlinson suggests, are made even more powerful with metaphors – as in “Just Hold On” – but mostly, he says, “I don’t like being clever for the sake of being clever. Sometimes it’s cool to read between the lines.” What he prefers as a listener is more of what he describes as a “brutal storyboard”. He references early Arctic Monkeys and the latest Liam Gallagher record – “I absolutely rinsed that” – as places he takes inspiration from. “It was really interesting to hear [Gallagher] talk like that [on 2017’s As You Were], it was like a breath of fresh air.” We approach the subject of new single, “Two Of Us”, which I hear just before he arrives. The song has a particular, moving honesty that will surely touch not only fans but much of the general public. “I kind of shied away from writing that song because I didn’t really think I was ready to [go through that process] yet,” Tomlinson says, explaining how the track just happened. “I got into a session and we ended up getting into it, and it was going perfectly.” He notes that it was “a much more emotionally draining situation [in the studio] than [he’s] used to”, but also “one of the most fulfilling.” “I really did want to write this song, I was just intimidated at first because it had to be perfect. There had to be little things in there that were really thought-provoking for me.” Is he was satisfied with the song in its final form? “I feel like we got the whole message across perfectly," he tells me confidently. "How I felt before and how I feel now. I’m really happy with where it’s finished up.” There is a hint of nerves in his tone – understandable given how personal the song is – but he is reassured by my assertion that people will love it. "Everyone has a different writing style. But when you do find that person or that group and it feels like you’re all on the same page, it really is an amazing feeling." I wonder aloud whether the writing process for “Two Of Us” was made more difficult by the fact that he was writing with strangers, rather than the established group he worked with on One Direction material. “I think the way I were brought up and also where I’m from, I’ve got no problem just sitting here and spilling it out to anyone,” Tomlinson admits. “I’m sure sometimes I catch people off guard when I just spill half my life story and they’ve known me ten minutes, but it’s how you get the best out of a song.” He suggests that although “it was great having the group that we had in the band,” he feels like he’s learning more as a writer now. “It’s more challenging this time around. I’ve had to be a lot more engaged and take a real interest in the little things about what makes a great song.” That’s not to say there are no downsides to working with new people at times: “I’m not going to say that every session I’ve been in has been amazing because there have definitely been some eggy ones. Everyone has a different writing style. But when you do find that person or that group and it feels like you’re all on the same page, it really is an amazing feeling”. We talk about his his plans for touring, and I can't help but ask if he'll be performing any One Direction songs. His fellow bandmates all brought a few forward to their own tours, and – as arguably the main writer within the band – Tomlinson has the most to choose from. The subject makes him grin: “I’ll be doing as many as I can get away with.” Tomlinson has already performed “Little Black Dress” from Midnight Memories back in 2017 – “it sounds better live than what we recorded on track” – and knows the fans will be expecting Four’s “No Control”, as it's always been very much considered his song: “The fans really got behind that one, and it always went down amazing on the tour shows. It’s a good sing-along one.” He mentions a few others, name-checking “one of [his] favourite songs [he] wrote for the band,” “Love You Goodbye”, and fan favourite “Home”, amongst some more unexpected ones from the band’s back catalogue. Rather than looking towards the big singles, Tomlinson’s focus is on those he’s most proud of lyrically and musically – ones that, if he brings them on tour, will be deeply appreciated by the band’s most dedicated followers. We return to the matter at hand: his upcoming album. The singer shows some regret at how long it’s taken him to finish – but also a flush of pride in sticking to his guns. “After ‘Just Hold On’, I could’ve just followed the trends on radio, but it felt important to me to work out exactly who I was as an artist," he says. "I know myself, and I’m happy to let [the album] go.” Tomlinson wants to feel confident that when the album gets released, his self-knowledge will be reflected in his first solo full-length. He explains that, even now, he finds it frustrating at times because he wants to put music out and go on tour, but it wouldn’t be right to push: “The fans have been waiting so long, I owe it to them now to not rush anything. It would be silly now to just rush it out.” I asked if the time frame has affected how he feels about any of the songs, or what they mean to him? After all, a lot can happen in two years. “Not really, because when I started writing this album, what I wanted was for it to play chronologically. I mean, the longer things take the harder this becomes to pull off, but it’s still something I want to do. It’s got to feel like you get to know what’s been happening for the past three years of my life. Although with some songs on the album I might not feel like that now, I know I did then and I still want to tell that story.” Tomlinson’s a story is one fans are eager to hear, for sure, but one which will – no doubt – be of interest to wider audiences too. Whatever is coming, Louis Tomlinson’s debut record is not an album people will be expecting from the One Direction star, nor one that will sit easily amongst the current chart toppers. But that’s a good thing. It’s exciting. And it’s definitely something worth waiting for.

[astriiformes]

This has come up while talking with friends a couple of times in the last few days and it’s such an on-brand Nate anecdote I thought it’d be worth sharing with the rest of you

The only debate event I ever participated in in high school (I was heavily involved in Speech & Debate for most of it, but most of what I did was on the speech side of things) was called Congressional Debate, which was basically what it sounds like. Competitors submit their own bills, a few of them make it onto the docket, and everyone pretends to be a chamber of Congress for a little while, giving persuasive speeches primarily on the fly about their thoughts on the bill up for debate, or arguing against others, while everyone else in the room asks questions that either bolster or tear down the debater’s point, based on which side they’ve decided they want to argue

Now, here are two facts about how the event usually works. A lot of the bills people submit are on much more traditional “politics” -- things like foreign policy, economics, and the like. The other thing is that the strategy most good competitors (and basically everyone who becomes a finalist) take is to get up and talk as often as possible, with middling-quality speeches because they’re trying to make the judges see and take note of them as prolific. The people who are the best at balancing that with a reasonable amount of quality and professionalism and are the best at sounding like they know what they’re talking about usually win.

I did not do those things

The bill I submitted, which was one of I think only two from our school that actually made the docket (though it was low down enough it tragically didn’t end up being one of the debates, because I would have had a lot to say on it), was on increasing funding for NASA. When our team did preliminary research to make everyone packets with information to use, I chose to take on providing info on my own bill and another that had made the docket on space law and asteroid mining. One of the speeches I remember that I actually gave was on environmental regulation issues related to irrigation. 

The other thing was that my strategy flew in the face of how you were supposed to do things. I’m an orator. I can debate decently, but I really shine when I get the chance to write things out and work from there. So instead of being prolific, I went for quality over quantity. Every round, I would write out one really thorough outline, with hooks and bullet points and the occasional joke or personal anecdote that felt right. And I would get up there and work with what I had to give a well-crafted, thoughtful, persuasive speech (though it didn’t hurt that doing such thorough research also meant I was able to field questions on the fly very well, which I think enhanced the image of knowing what I was doing). Between sessions, my coach actually pulled me aside to say “I don’t know how exactly what you’re doing is working, but it is.” 

I ended up getting perfect scores on all of my primarily science-oriented speeches (though I think one of them was actually on humanitarian aid of some kind instead), nominated as a finalist, and was well-received enough that a lot of the chamber voted for me, landing me 4th place in the entire national qualifying tournament and the runner-up for Nationals.

My takeaway from the whole affair is that, had I decided to go into politics, I would be running on a platform of primarily science-based issues and mostly have success due to being a well-liked, intelligent public speaker -- and frankly, I’m a little annoyed there aren’t more candidates like that out there. How do I tell American politicians that said strategy actually works

[doomedandstoned]

I’ll Take a Sling of Singapore Sludge, Thank You

  Axis Mundi is the name. Learn it well. 

It wasn't two months ago that I stumbled upon 'The Depths' (2019), debut EP by sludge metal trio AXIS MUNDI. I'm aware of merely a handful of heavy bands from the Republic of Singapore (which is totally my fault, I'm sure), but it wasn't just the novelty of relative obscurity that gave the band its allure. When I listened to The Depths, it was its hard-biting heaviness, gritty realism, and (I confess) the courage to cover Nirvana that ultimately endeared me to vocalist Sathish Kumar, guitarist Vinod Dass, and drummer Mitch Goon. Following is my exchange with Vinod about the band's origins, the meaning behind their name, and what it's like to be oh so sludge in Singapore.

☿

I have to say, we haven't encountered too many sludge or death-doom bands in Singapore, but it's encouraging to see more and more with each passing year. Tell us, if you please, how Axis Mundi got its start and introduce us to the members of the band.

The idea to form this band came to me in early 2018 after coming back to home soil after staying abroad for about two years. I got my first exposure to the sludge and stoner doom in Melbourne Australia by getting my face completely melted off by Dixie and gang from Weedeater, it was one of the first gigs I attended in Melbourne and it really resonated with me as it was something completely fresh and different from the mainly thrash and death scene metal -- the whole lineup for this band all played and still play in death metal bands back home. (laughs) And seeing then drummer Travis Owens bouncing sticks off the floor while destroying the drums was a life changing experience no doubt.

I had some things to express and found myself naturally starting to write in the direction of sludge and doom and decided it was time to get some partners in crime, so I got in touch with Mitch for drums, since we played together in a previous band for close to a decade and I knew his hard hitting style would suit the sound I was going for.

I then hit up Sathish, who was the vocalist of his band I was sessioning bass for. I loved his low growls and aggression and thought it was a perfect fit for what I wanted. We formed around march of 2018, so it is a very fresh band although its members have been (and still are) close friends for more than a decade.

What is the significance of the name Axis Mundi?

The term Axis Mundi hit me after getting into the study of symbols and their significance to the human mind. I had always found them interesting and the deeper I read into them the symbol of the World Tree kept reappearing in art and media I resonated with, especially during the writing phase of this EP, so I let things take their course. Its basic idea is the center of the universe, the connection of higher and lower, heaven and earth, Consciousness and the Unconscious.

What are some distinctives of your style? Asked another way, how would you describe your sound to someone who has never heard you before?

What resulted from the three of us coming together was a blend of the sludge and doom riffs together with a faster tempo coupled with brutal vocals. I was listening to a lot of High on Fire, Monolord and Nails, my drummer was listening to Dyscarnate and Aborted and my vocalist was pushing Full of Hell and Comeback Kid. So ideas were pulled from all these sources!

You have a new EP! Walk us through it, please, track by track (sharing any background about each song's composition and recording, lyrical and thematic tie-ins, and any anecdotes that come to mind related to each).

Track 1 – The Depths

The Depths EP by Axis Mundi

The basic idea behind this track was it was going to be a noise track introducing the album and was meant to put the idea of being “down in the depths” to the listener, which was kind of how I was feeling as I wrote this record, so I though this was a good place to begin. I took this chance to give some Bladerunner 2049 worship. That movie was a goddamn religious experience sonically and visually.

Track 2 – Summoning the Serpent

The Depths EP by Axis Mundi

This song was the first song to be completed in terms of writing for the EP. It was one of the cases where I had a couple of riffs and had no idea how to bring them together or even if they were going to be part of the same song, but the moment the band came together, everything fit together like a jigsaw puzzle out of the blue, that kind of creative spark is the shit I live for. The basic idea for the song is the looking inside of oneself to come face to face with your fears and your flaws, to summon them up like a serpent and face them.

Track 3 – Revelations

The Depths EP by Axis Mundi

The opening riff of this song is the riff which gave birth to the band, it was one of the first riffs written, but it was also one of the last songs to be completed as we were writing for an album. The writing process for this song was really one of patience, I would try some ideas out with the band, they wouldn’t work and we would be back at the drawing board, but I remember I had to keep reminding myself not to rush things and cram some jackass riff in there just to finish the song. It had to feel right.

The driving force of this song was one of searching -- searching for clarity, for vision, for meaning. It ties in with Track 2 as Summoning the Serpent is like an admission of wrongdoing and Revelations is like a search for a new path.

Track 4 – Territorial Pissings

The Depths EP by Axis Mundi

I am a super huge Nirvana fan and I knew I wanted to cover one of their songs for this release. I also wanted to do it our way and put our own twist to it as I love it when bands do that. This was another song that came out the way it was in like 10 minutes, and now that I’m thinking about it, the chorus of this song actually ties in with Revelations. (laughs) Life is strange.

Who is responsible for the album art and what does it signify?

The album art work is done by Faris Samri, a killer drummer I used to play with in a black metal band! I happened upon some of his designs and thought he could take my rough demo for the album art to the next level. I came into contact with the Adinkra symbol "Hye Won Hye" which basically means "that which cannot be burnt," a West African symbol of endurance, which I thought was perfect for the EP. I then decided to recreate the symbol with the goat skull and Christ on the cross, which is the voluntary acceptance of suffering, symbolically speaking. The skull and cross was mirrored downward, creating the symbol of Hye Won Hye, as well as signifying the duality within a person, light and dark, love and hate and the struggle to balance them. Faris took it to the next level with the addition of flames to the lower half. Here is his take on it:

“The artwork was meant to resemble an Adinkran symbol of endurance. Reading more into its origins, it is said that the symbol got its meaning from traditional priests who were capable of walking on fire without being burnt. This made me inclined to include the element of fire from its history into my illustration.

I began by drawing the first goat skull, engulfing it in flames, scorching some of its original skeletal features. Before I began on the second skull, I realised I was not fond of the idea of having two identical burning goat skulls, as I could have easily duplicated the one i had just drawn and inverted it to complete the illustration. Referring back to the bed of fire the priests had to walk on, I decided to illustrate flames in the shape of the goat skull instead of the actual skull. These newly drawn flames will enter through the first goat skull, which exhibits the skull’s imperishability in such circumstances.

The next step was to colour the piece, which I did on Photoshop as I wanted to experiment with a selection of palettes I had come up with. The colours chosen mostly had a gore or horror vibe about them, referencing older metal album artworks from bands like Slipknot or Mastodon, to Horror film posters such as It or Blair Witch Project.”

What are some of the bands you play with in Singapore and, more specifically, how is the doom-sludge scene in your country?

Mitch and I played in a death metal outfit called Zaganoth, which was our first serious band and Sathish used to head another death metal band called Stillborn and both bands used to play shows with each other in the past!

Now besides playing in this band I play guitars for Truth Be Known a death/funcore veteran band that is heading down south to Australia for the Dead of Winter Festival! I also play in a band called Mucus Mortuary which is a -- well, I don’t have words to describe this band you have to see it for yourself. (laughs)

The sludge and doom scene in Singapore is pretty small even within the heavy music scene here (might be the insane laws against drugs but who knows eh?) however the bands that are currently holding up the banner are killer, check out Marijannah, Hrvst and Beelzebud!

Thank you so much for visiting with Doomed & Stoned! We wish you much success now and in the future.

Thank you so much for taking the time to listen to some music coming out of a dot in the world map! I am humbled and grateful for this opportunity and may The Doomed and Stoned Show last for many seasons to come!

God Luck and Good Speed.

The Great Axis Mundi Giveaway!

Come one, come all! Get your own copy of 'The Depths' (2019) by Axis Mundi by grabbing one of the available download codes below. Hurry, these will go quickly! Redeem them here.

ln2g-7clq 4amy-5h5t e78z-752b gwnn-vuwx 3sav-kphp dq78-6np2 pgw2-ym7c 6vhe-jb8y kfeb-ycuf ka7l-bxam n654-xv3g my7j-58du 9tmr-b24p 3u8a-wlj2 55zb-he8c b8t5-5bbx dnn9-7wlq s5az-5x5t j7nh-ufze 7lwp-eqku vsj8-3tgq fjb3-c7fz mbxw-xej6 9acq-j38y yfjf-ywuf y5bx-34am 38as-hq3g azfp-5tdu 8yab-bb4p xjfg-k7e2 j9dn-gvfc 724m-ukex lxp7-v9np 4e6d-g8vn qr3s-unze blxe-emku 5ceg-3ggq rj7n-cufz afwl-x5j6 8ahj-vr8y xun8-7sxq hmat-5lat jr9y-7a3b 9x23-v7dx ncmm-654p lpr9-kue2 e9lu-yqfc b3ca-79ex dxjr-vznp sqgw-gtvn pruc-u7ze vkbq-egwu 6yvf-33hp u2gv-w4q2 mvtr-hpgc fgza-52rx l22g-7dxq cmmy-5hat eb8z-7e3b 8xnn-vudx 24av-kp4p dp78-6fe2 v7wd-xaq6 65he-j2gy kreb-ycnf zm7l-bh5m ng54-xv2g 5k7j-eywu gzmr-brhp 338a-wlq2 avzb-hagc r9t5-5brx d2n9-7cxq hj8l-yymn jbnh-7uke 7dwp-eqzu m4j8-3t8q feb3-cn7z 57xw-xeq6 gmcq-jbgy yrjf-ywnf tvbx-bx5m 29as-hq2g atfp-58wu uha5-6ahp xefg-k7p2 j8dn-gj7c fn4m-ukpx lwp7-jkup cj6d-g8mn ef3s-ufke bdxe-emzu aheg-3g8q re7n-c77z arwl-x5q6 79kv-e3bx x3n8-7slq haat-545t qf9y-7a2b

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Imagine Jamie being a young and important visual arts professor at university, and Claire following his lessons and then find out she's attracted to him..

Mod Gotham says: No universities in this story, but I think you’ll like the setting of this one even better!

When the telephone rang, she adjusted the volume on theradio and set down her teacup.

 “Randall residence.”

 “It’s ready.”

 She sat up a bit straighter. “Really?”

 “Yes.” Not even the static crackling on the line couldmask the burr in his voice. “I canna wait for you to see it.”

 With her free hand she flicked off the radio and slipped onher shoes. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

 --

 It was just a few steps from the townhouse on 68thStreet to the Third Avenue Elevated. Claire thrilled in riding the subway highabove the traffic, peering through the windows of buildings as the car chuggedby. Watching families eat dinner, housewives hang laundry, husbands pore overthe sports pages. Secret glimpses into lives she would never know.

 Claire Beauchamp Randall was quite good at keepingsecrets.

 In less than twenty minutes she disembarked at 14thStreet, carefully made her way down the iron steps that swayed as the trainspassed back and forth, and walked in the shadow of the elevated tracks on ThirdAvenue until she turned left at 12th Street.

 Halfway down the block was the iron gate behind which shehad found so much. The gate guarded entry to what appeared to be a smallcourtyard, but was actually a cluster of four carriage houses – two facinganother set of two, with a small patch of grass in between – which thirty yearsago had been where the wealthy families in the area had boarded their horses.Many had been destroyed in the name of progress, now that the automobile ruledthe city’s streets – but time had barely touched this leafy block, packed with dozensof graceful diagonal stoops leading into brownstones.

 Four boys played stickball in the street, taking nonotice of the well-dressed woman pass by.

 Finally she arrived – and he was there, waiting for her.Jamie opened the gate, and she nodded a quick hello, removing her hat as shestepped into the courtyard. Jamie locked the gate and turned to enter hisstudio; she didn’t need him to ask her to follow. Thirty five steps later theywere safely inside the main studio on the first floor – the ceiling twenty feethigh, the late afternoon sunlight pouring through the five round windows, the sharpsmells of tempera and turpentine jolting her senses.

 Before she could put her hat and coat on the table, shewas in Jamie’s arms.

 --

 Shyly she reached out to touch the edge of the canvas. “Ican’t believe that’s me.”

 Jamie’s lips lifted in that half smile she always lovedto kiss. He looked at his work – then back at Claire, naked and flushed andrumpled on his bed – and then back at the painting.

 “It’s you,” he insisted. “It’s how I see you.”

 Frank Randall had commissioned a portrait of his wife incelebration of her thirtieth birthday. Something grand to hang in the entrywayof their townhouse – to show her off to the revolving door of socialites and businessassociates and politicians who attended the parties that Claire held everyweek. Frank limited her volunteer work at Bellevue to just ten hours a week –and to punish him for that, she spent more than half his income on extravagantsoirees and balls and cocktail parties and salons.

 Beautiful, witty, charming, with a tongue saltier than aseasoned sailor – an invitation to Claire’s parties meant that you had arrivedon the New York City social scene.

 Jamie Fraser – photographer, painter, poet, and sometimestaxi driver – secured an invitation through Edward Gowan, a successful lawyerturned amateur painter to whom he gave art lessons twice a week. He had literallymet Ned on the street – collided with him on the corner of Second Avenue andSt. Mark’s Place, his arms full of fresh canvases – and this chance meeting hadblossomed into a fruitful partnership.

 For Ned was still the Randall family attorney, despitehis advanced age, and as such had an open invitation to any and all events atthe Randall townhouse. Six months prior, in the dead of winter, he had paid fora new suit of clothes for Jamie and shared a cab with him uptown.

 It was the easiest commission Jamie had ever received –he had been half distracted with the incredible Art Nouveau furniture andmirrors and light fixtures – and he had let Ned do all the negotiating.

 That was the first night he had met Claire – Claire,vibrant in a floor-length dress of electric blue, her untamed curls wild aroundher face, sipping from glass after glass of illegal champagne. Her eyes so sad.

 Three days later was her first visit to his studio. Theyhad spent that first day just talking – her about Klimt and O’Keeffe andPicasso and Man Ray; him about how he had learned to paint from his mother, howhe frequented the German beer halls down on the Bowery to fill notebooks withdrawings of faces and hands and shoes, how much he loved photographing theentryways of old buildings.

 The connection was instant. Undeniable. But she wasmarried.

 It truly began once they agreed on a pose for theportrait – standing in her parlor, one arm leaning against an exquisite antiqueChinese side table, the other arm on her hip, gazing head-on at the viewer.Challenging them. Showing just who exactly was in charge of this domain.

 Jamie had asked her to wear the dress he couldn’t get outof his dreams – bluer than the sky, bluer than her eyes. Happily she hadagreed.

 Several sessions, then, at his atelier in the East Village.She stood still as he sketched, telling her about his family back in Scotland, thelove for art that his late mother had instilled in him, colorful anecdotes ofhis artist friends and the odd jobs they took to make ends meet.

 He had served her tea and cigarettes. She had brought himpaper and pigments, knowing from experience what her artist friends preferred.He had made her smile and laugh, and had brought light to her troubled eyes.

 One session at the townhouse, so that he could carefullysketch the drawing room, the antique furniture and Persian carpets and framedJapanese prints neatly hanging on the walls. Heedless of Frank Randall frowningat him from the doorway, warning him to not break anything.

 And then the next session with Claire was back at hisstudio, focusing on the details of her eyebrows and hands.

 She was the perfect model – she held perfectly still. Evenwhen he tentatively reached out a confident hand to adjust the tilt of her jaw,the angle of her head. Leaving behind smudges from the charcoal he so dearlyloved to scribble and rub and shade on the paper she had brought for him.

 Seeing his fingerprints on her porcelain features stirredsomething within him.

 And then, nine sessions in, as he mixed his pigments to createthe perfect shade of blue, she quietly opened up to him.

 The parents who had died when she was five. The husbandwho sought comfort in the arms of other women. The abandoned dreams ofministering to the sick. The emptiness of parties and caviar and champagne andthousands of air kisses with women who envied her and whom she hated. Thechildren her husband would not give her.

 All the while he let her speak; mixed the colors; thoughtand thought and thought.

 At the end of each session, it was customary for him tohelp her into her coat and walk her to Third Avenue, where he would catch a caband make sure she was safely on her way home.

 But at the end of that session – when she had changedfrom the blue gown back into her gray dress, stood waiting for him to help herinto her coat – he had quietly walked up to her, looked into her eyes.

 “Stay,” he had breathed.

 The one word that had shifted everything.

 She could choose to leave – and he would help her go. Butshe chose to stay; chose to let him help her out of her dress, lead her to thebed, and show him just how much he had come to mean to her.

 That night he had filled fifteen sheets of paper withsketches of her – sleeping, reclining, sitting. Smiling. Nude, clothed.Drinking coffee, eating an apple. Always smiling.

 His mind burst with thousands of ideas for photographsand paintings and drawings and lithographs. He whispered these ideas to her,and she kissed him with all her might.

 Slowly the portrait took shape; slowly he accumulatedmore and more material of her.

 He photographed her in the nude, standing in the middleof a sunbeam on the floor of his studio, arms raised ecstatically toward theheavens.

 He painted her wrapped in a Japanese kimono, hair sweptinto a sober chignon, sipping tea in the courtyard.

 He drew her sleeping beside him, the contours of quiet joyvibrant on her face.

 And now – now the portrait was complete.

 The setting and background were as agreed; so was herdress, and her pose, and the style of her hair.

 But her face –

 “You have brought joy to my eyes,” she whispered. “I lookawake. Alive.”

 “That’s how I see you,” he repeated softly, settlingbeside her on the bed, carefully balancing the painting across their laps.

 “Frank won’t recognize me,” she mused.

 “He won’t need to.” Jamie swallowed. “Right?”

 Claire nodded. “Right. Your offer still stands?”

 He didn’t even have to think. “You know it does.”

 Then she smiled, so wide. “Let’s get dressed.”

 “I’ll roll up the canvas. How long will it take you to gatheryour things, once we’re there?”

 “Just a few minutes – I packed my bags a long time ago,you know.”

 He dipped her in an exaggerated kiss, mindful of thepainting.

 “I can’t wait to begin forever with you,” she breathedagainst his lips.

 “But not until we show him what he so foolishly threwaway,” Jamie murmured.

 Another quick peck of the lips – then a whirlwind ofactivity as they dressed.

 “I was thinking that we would hang your portrait abovethe bed,” Jamie mused, helping Claire button her dress.

 “That’s a lovely idea.” She turned, smiling, and restedher hands on his shoulders. “Only if we hang the nude beside it.”

 Now it was his turn to smile widely. “How I love you,Claire.”

 She kissed the tip of his nose. “Love you more. Shall we?”