#yes it’s new york OF COURSE it is! but the album involves many other things idk

[margaetyrell]

why is there a war between city and beach. have you completely erased the seagulls from your memory. can’t 1989 just be both??? why won’t you let beach bejewelled. she’s literally clean

[pookiepatty]

My Fan Autoethnography

For starters, I am currently a fan mostly involved with the Twenty One Pilots (TOP) fan community (some current involvement with Fall Out Boy and Linkin Park, etc.). I interact with posts and follow the band and people related to the band on Instagram and heavily on Twitter/"X". I have a fan account where I post my thoughts about Twenty One Pilots' releases, make and post memes, and talk with fans online. On most nights I listen to "Spaces" on Twitter/"X" where TOP fans speak (like Discord calls) about their love for the band and their music--and about their day, of course. I do not always actually speak in these spaces but I do occasionally if I have time and have the quiet to do so. I mostly interact with fan posts and talk in fan group chats online. I have been a fan ("fanatic?") of this band for 9 years and so far have seen them in concert six times over the years. I plan on seeing them three more times this year in Orlando and in their hometown of Columbus, Ohio (first time doing that). In the past, I had seen them live on two legs of their "Bandito Tour" in 2019, seen them in Atlanta, Georgia on their "Takeover Tour" in 2021, and New York during their "Icy Tour" in 2022. This was due to the fact that they decided to avoid Florida for tours during that entire album cycle... :|

2019 Bandito Tour show #1 outfit after the show! +Drum stick from concert #2!

2021 Takeover Tour Atlanta (show #3) preshow photo!

2022 Icy Tour (show #6) photo (closest) at b-stage with Tyler in the background!

I post videos and whatnot from the concerts I go to here: www.instagram.com/pattyslump

I used to write bits of fanfiction when I was a teenager but I no longer really do that except for a laugh on rare occasion. I do sometimes read fanfiction for enjoyment with other fans. As this band is very lore heavy, I do often watch and read fan theories on social media and YouTube to make sure I understand and I am up-to-date on things. I do 'attempt' to theorize online when I am confident in the implications of a portion of the lore. I rewatch music videos and so on like many of the other fans do to make sure I have picked up on any alternate meanings or lore details that I may not have noticed the first time or four. I connect much of the narrative/lore behind TOP's albums to my own life as they tend to leave room for that.

I have lots of merchandise from TOP (and other bands too!) that consists of about 50 or so T-shirts, all of their albums on CD and most on Vinyl, Funkos, accessories by the band or related to what the band wears, and fanart. I do collect some rarer merchandise like the Blurryface Live vinyl which only had a few hundred copies made when it was first released in 2015. I caught a drumstick during my second time seeing them live. I have collected confetti (referred to as "Trees Confetti" since they always end with that song) from each of the shows I have been to. I have a tattoo that is related to a lyric from a song by TOP and mental health around my wrist. I wholeheartedly believe that if I didn't have this band to cling onto all these years, I would not be here. They definitely were my motivation to get me through my hardships when everything else would get lost. I have a personal attachment to this band as they helped me get through very traumatic moments in my life. Yes, I am one of those fans, deal with it. So, in terms of why people get into fandom and why it means so much to some people, let's just say: I get it.

Analysis questions:

I do believe fandom often has a "us" vs. "them" mentality threaded within it. People identify so dearly to their fandom(s) and the things they like that it does essentially define them as a person or even defines a period of time in their life. As a result of this, fans are very protective as a fandom defines a part of them and their in-group. I have seen this very much upfront in my own fandoms, especially when someone attacks a band or something about them online and everyone is so quick to counter back. Feels like an everyday occurrance we are going after someone who hates on TOP just so they could get more interactions. For me, I have been guilty of doing this at times. Defending. The band and the fans mean so much to me that it feels like I would do anything to prove to someone how great everyone involved is. Unless the band turns out to be bad people then I don't know what I'd do. :| We all have our biases, I guess... 3. Hoo boy! Anonymity definetly gives fans a confidence that may be hard to find in their daily real lives, I can say that much. This leads fans to post things especially without thought of who is seeing it, this includes TOP and the people that surround the band. People post more explicit artwork, make more offensive jokes, and so forth. People have gotten way too comfortable online. That is, before the lead singer, Tyler Joseph, has started liking posts that talk about him when he is not even tagged in them... people are starting to be a little more careful about what they post. We'll see how long that lasts. 5. As the band TOP loves to make up new words, phrases, and symbols that they fill with meaning, fans eat that stuff up. There are words associated with the narrative behind their most recent albums that can be a code or metaphor for parts of people's lives and their mental health. Due to this, fans that have gone deep enough to learn more about these terms that are very specific to the TOP fandom, these words and symbols can bleed into spaces beyond fandom spaces. For instance, Dema is not a real word (not the meaning put out there when you look it up), represents negative places you want to avoid in your mind and self-sabotaging patterns within your life. The phrase "Sahlo Folina" means nothing except what TOP made it mean, the phrase you call out to those around you when you need help, whether that be needing to talk to a friend or seeking out professional help for mental health difficulties. It's acknowledging the importance of getting help when you know it is best for you--taking that leap. Then, there's also always running jokes from interviews and different videos of the band that are shared between the band and the fans that are hilarious to bring up in daily conversation. So, yeah, I do use these phrases or terms commonly said in the fandom in real life too sometimes. It is also cool when I bring these terms up in conversation and someone I didn't know was a fan makes me aware that they are. It's sick.

[persephoneflouwers]

Doing meth Math with Harry

Before we start, let me just say I’m not really good at Math so every number you’ll find here could be very easily an approximation. A nonsense approximation. A meaningless approximation that will lead us pretty much nowhere. Exciting, isn’t it?

We can agree that certain songs are kinda suspicious starting from the title. We all know what a song’s title is supposed to do, right? It helps recognise the song faster and easily. That’s why the most common lines used for titles are in chorus or maybe are repeated over and over again. It’s smart, it’s useful.

The question is: why doesn’t this concept apply to all H’s songs? My next move was to count how many times the title of a song is repeated in the song.

You are free to listen to both albums, count and come back to me for any correction because I got lost in numbers like that meme with the blonde lady and mathematics, you know? Anyway, here’s my count:

Golden 41: to be precise there are 9 goldens from the intro to the glorious part where there are 7x4 repetitions and the last 4 at the end of the song. 9+28+4. NINE. TWENTY-EIGHT. 9.28. What the fluff?

WMS 25

Adore you 9

Lights up 2. This does not follow the trend in H’s songs but the concept behind it it’s kinda clear. There are a lot of ‘shine, shine, shine’ too.

Cherry 0: … hint hint hint 💡 💡 💡 it’s interesting that H chose a word that seems completely meaningless, but in the same time it explains pretty much the entire song.

Falling 19

TBSL 11 (+ 4 to be so)

She 40?: I lost my count after awhile. Told you I’m bad with numbers

Sunflower vol6. 19

Canyon moon 4

TPWK 4

Fine line 20

MMITH 2: just at the beginning

SOTT 4

Carolina 1: why the fluff you name a song with the first unimportant detail about a random girl from a one night stand? Is this an other hint? Of course it is.

Two ghosts 4/5 idk i fell asleep the first time

Sweet creature 12 but again asleep the second time. Sorry it was late in the night, so…

Only angel 10

Kiwi 0: 💡

ESNY 1 ???? This was shocking cause in my head there was at least one more.

Woman: 16

FTDT 0: this was for me a pure confusion moment, but then I thought what if it’s H’s way to express that maybe this song doesn’t really come from one of his strictly personal experiences? I’m not gonna lie, finding out that FTDT is never repeated in the song was demotivating somehow. I thought “wtf are you on drugs for even just thinking about it?” But then I read this by the big brain that belongs to @bluewinnerangel and it kinda makes sense?!

Anyway, what is this? What are you telling me, H? 😭 is this a binary system code for “stunt”? Stunt not only as “relationship stunt” like cherry or Carolina would be, but also stunt as in “we’ve been set” or like “this is just for the show, you gotta play with it” aka performance, ostentation? I can’t tell. Stunt is Also ESNY key word (I’ve already written about how interpret this song). The first stunt ever.

I address myself as a woman of science and I like to put things in categories like I would do with the stuff I study, I guess. It helps me understand things better. But I don’t really like labels… Let’s separate these songs in two groups: group 0, songs where the title is never mentioned; group 1, where the title is mentioned once. Back to the ‘not so strictly personal experiences, the songs in the group 0 are Cherry, Kiwi and FTDT…

I see cherry as a dialogue between two lovers (Camille and Dylan in my head). So this is not H’s experience. I talked about it here (always inspired by stuff I read here). Sorry, the audio got cancelled cause tt hates me, but I put subtitles on ☹️

Kiwi… i mean, yes it involves H somehow, but�� not in the first place? It makes perfect sense if you read it from Louis’ pov, right?

FTDT reminds of Brokeback mountain and yes, very likely H relates to the movie, the story, the characters so much, but again… not autobiographic?

Group 1 songs are Carolina and Ever Since New York. Both these songs could have a personal connotation like H’s first experience with drugs and as I said, the moment when all the cruel stunt marketing started.

Maybe it’s something, maybe it’s just bullshit. This is literally going nowhere, so… felt like putting my thoughts into some writing because maybe a brilliant brain can understand this better than I do.

[girlsbtrs]

How Being a Woman in Hardcore Helped Me Learn to Love Myself

Written by Jen Moglia. Graphic by Laura Cross. 

Since this is my first piece written for Girls Behind the Rock Show, I figured that I should introduce myself; hi, my name is Jennifer, but most people call me Jen. I live on Long Island in New York, and my favorite things include my cats, the color pink, giving gifts to my Animal Crossing villagers, and watching sports. Above all else, however, I love music.

I frequently refer to music as the love of my life. It somehow plays a role in everything that I do. I got my first iPod when I was five years old, stacked with everything from Miranda Cosgrove and Avril Lavigne to Tool and Deftones. Some of my favorite memories growing up are sitting in my pink and purple bedroom singing and dancing along to Paramore’s crushcrushcrush and Fall Out Boy’s Thnks Fr Th Mmrs on the local alternative radio station. I danced for 12 years, played cello for seven, and am currently a wannabe ukulele rockstar after buying one on impulse and starting to teach myself how to play four years ago. Even on the simplest, barely noticeable levels, music has been everywhere in my life for as long as I can remember; even now, I can’t complete a basic task without a song playing in my headphones.

Music became an even bigger part of my life when I started attending live shows. I went to my first concerts at age 10, seeing my two favorite artists - Nickelodeon boy band Big Time Rush and classic progressive rock band Rush - within one month of each other. By the time I was 15, I had been to my fair share of arena/seated shows with one or both of my parents, from Fifth Harmony to Fitz and the Tantrums to Alice in Chains. My first general admission show was seeing the Foo Fighters at Citi Field with both my mom and dad when I was 12, but my first pop-punk general admission show (yes, they’re different) came a few years later. I had the typical list of favorite bands that you would expect from a young teenager getting into alternative music: Neck Deep, Knuckle Puck, Real Friends, and State Champs. 

In late 2018, I was able to see all four of these bands for the first time, and I am a firm believer that it changed the course of my life. I met, cried-during, and eventually got the setlist for Neck Deep at Stereo Garden on Long Island in September. I sang all of “Untitled” at the barricade for Knuckle Puck at SI Hall at the Fairgrounds in Syracuse in October. I had my first minor concussion scare (yay!) before Real Friends’ set at Irving Plaza in New York City in November. Finally, I crowd surfed for the first time during State Champs’ anniversary show for The Finer Things at House of Independents in Asbury Park in December. After just a few shows, I had fallen in love with this new brand of live music that I had just been introduced too. There was something so magical to me about skin covered in sweat and Sharpie marks, feet hurting from dancing in the pit all night, and meeting strangers on line outside the venue who would become your best friends and know your deepest secrets by the end of the night.

After making some friends at all of the pop-punk shows I was going to, they started to tell me that I should get into hardcore music. I was hesitant at first - the heaviest thing I had listened to at that point was nowhere near the snippets of hardcore that my friends had played for me - but, eventually, I decided to give it a chance. I was bored and home alone with nothing to do one night over the summer of 2019 when I listened to my first hardcore album, Laugh Tracks by Knocked Loose. Immediately, I got that gut feeling that you have when you know you’ve heard one of your favorite bands for the first time. I knew that this was something special that I was meant to find at this point in my life. For the rest of the summer, I worked my way through the rest of my friends’ hardcore and hardcore-adjacent recommendations, with Cost of Living by Incendiary, Stage Four by Touche Amore, You’re Not You Anymore by Counterparts, Time & Space by Turnstile, Springtime and Blind by Fiddlehead, Smile! Aren’t You Happy by Absence of Mine, Bad to my World by Backtrack, and Reality Approaches by Harms Way being some of my favorites. By the time the next school year started, I was hooked, and I already had tickets to my first few hardcore shows in the fall.

My first hardcore show was in November 2019, seeing Knocked Loose at Webster Hall in New York City - fitting, right? They were on tour supporting their new record A Different Shade of Blue, which I had become obsessed with the minute I heard it for the first time. Although I was ridiculously scared of getting stepped on and breaking all my bones (yes, that was an actual fear of mine), I had the time of my life at that show. There was something about this newer kind of live music that prompted a cathartic release, one that I hadn’t found anywhere else before. As soon as the show was over, I was counting the days until my next one.

My love for live hardcore music (and live music and hardcore music in general) has only grown since then, and that story sort of ends there. However, I want to go back to that first hardcore band that I listened to, Knocked Loose, and the album they put out that first summer that stole my heart. I was taken by storm as soon as the first notes of A Different Shade of Blue rang through my headphones, but something was different about the third track, A Serpent’s Touch, particularly the ending; I heard a voice that sounded a little bit more like my own.

This song features Emma Boster, who does vocals for one of my favorite hardcore bands right now, Dying Wish. When I heard A Serpent’s Touch for the first time, though, I had no idea who she was. I was used to the aggressive vocal delivery of frontmen in hardcore, particularly that of Knocked Loose’s Bryan Garris, but hearing it come from her changed my perspective on a lot of things. It’s not like the song was super angry and changed its tune to be lighter once the token girl came along; in her verse, Boster sings, “I watched the venom / Overcome your spirit / Jealousy holds you now / Distorting your appearance / Bleed out.” These were lyrics that held the same intensity that the lines screamed by the men held, and they sounded just as cool coming out of her mouth. As cheesy as it sounds, it had never even occurred to me that women had a place in this new world that I had discovered. The audiences in the live videos I watched (and eventually at the shows I attended) were made up of mostly men who looked bigger and older than me. When I did start going to shows, most of the non-man population consisted of my friends and I. Emma Boster, along with so many others, began to open my eyes to the fact that a place for people like me existed in this community. It didn’t matter that I had bright red hair or liked butterflies or wore pink - I was just as much a part of this magic as the men multiple feet taller than me with tattoo-covered arms, and I belonged there just as much as they did.

As time went on and I got more involved in the genre’s music and community, I discovered more bands with women in them, and it only fueled this fire of empowerment inside of me. When I felt insecure, I’d watch live sets from Krimewatch, a hardcore band from New York City, just half an hour away from my hometown. They have multiple women as members, including their energetic badass of a vocalist, Rhylli Ogiura. Year of the Knife became one of my all-time favorites, and their bassist Madison Watkins became a serious inspiration to me; the way that she can balance killing it on stage and running the cutest, most pink apparel brand I’ve ever seen (aptly titled Candy Corpse) amazes me. Even some of the bands I’ve found more recently have had an impact on me. I started listening to Initiate last year when their EP Lavender came out, and their beautifully colorful cover art caught my eye before I had heard any of their songs. Their vocalist, Crystal Pak, is also a woman, and she’s insanely talented. Discovering this kind of representation in this new universe that I had come to feel so at home in introduced me to a world of confidence and determination that I had never known before.

When people ask me why I love hardcore so much, I often give the easy answer; “the music sounds good.” If the person allows me to ramble on for a little longer, the answer becomes much more emotional and cheesy. Hardcore taught me that speaking up for what I believe in is important, and if there’s something I’m passionate about, it’s worth shouting about. I became familiar with this when listening to one of my favorite bands ever, Incendiary (the second hardcore band I ever checked out), before quickly realizing that politics are a pretty common topic within the genre - it’s what this music was practically built on. The first time I heard their vocalist Brendan Garrone singing about police brutality and injustice on songs like Force of Neglect and Sell Your Cause, I realized that there is so much more to music than just sounding good.

However, at its core, the thing I love so much about hardcore is what it taught me about being a woman. Growing up, I was the loud girl with the personality bigger than the room who always had something to say and had a never ending supply of excitement about just about everything. As I got older, I was taught that this was not okay. People didn’t like how enthusiastic I was about everything, or that I constantly had new ideas and new discoveries I wanted to talk about. As cliche as it sounds, I felt like everyone around me was trying to dull my sparkle, especially some of the men that I was encountering on a day-to-day basis. Even when I started to come to terms with my big and bright personality, in turn also coming to terms with my own femininity, I was told that this wasn’t how girls acted. I had to pick one - I could watch Disney princess movies and wear Hello Kitty hair clips, or I could be outspoken about my beliefs; but never both. The women that I mentioned earlier, along with so, so many more, helped me unlearn these toxic mindsets. Seeing someone like Emma Boster take the stage and scream ferociously for a full set helped me see that I could be a girl and still be a powerhouse. Following Madi Watkins around on social media showed me that I could love bands like Year of the Knife and also love heart-shaped purses and wear pink from head to toe. My aggression and passion didn’t make me any less of a woman, and my femininity didn’t make me any less of a force to be reckoned with. 

So, at the end of this love letter to hardcore and the women who run it, I say this; thank you for teaching me that I don’t have to shrink myself anymore. It has made a world of a difference.

[emilykinncy]

Normily My Caffeine Withdrawal Podcast episode (transcript of certain parts)

EK intro: I first met Norman Reedus working on The Walking Dead of course. Over the course of my four seasons on our show, I got to know Norman better and better and we became good friends. And in a sort of interesting parallel, our characters storylines also became more intertwined within the show. Norman is so special, he seems to have endless amounts of creative energy that I find incredibly inspiring. He also has great taste in music and coffee which makes him a perfect guest for this podcast. Welcome back to My Caffeine Withdrawal, I am so incredibly excited to share this episode with all of you today. Norman has so many fans and I know this to be true because everyday someone in my life or someone on social media asks me ‘hey, how was it working with Norman? What is Norman Reedus like?’ Well, now today you guys are going to get to know Norman in the same way that I know Norman! We talk about how Norman got into acting and when and why he moved to California, as well as what his life was like as an artist first starting out in Los Angeles. We talk about a book he’s been writing! And he tells a lot of great stories! But first, Norman explained his current coffee setup situation and how he’s currently weathering the quarantine from Costa Rica. 

This gets long so putting it behind a cut!

I put a timestamp of where each segment starts at the end of them! 

NR: Hi Emily!

EK: Hi!

NR: I just set this up cause I’ve been listening to your podcast which I really like and I know it’s heavy on the coffee so I brought my coffee setup down the mountain in my backpack on the motorcycle and this is my coffee jam here (I’m not 100% sure of the last 2 words) so, this is what I do. You ready?

EK: Yes!

*NR shows her & describes his coffee process*

EK: What was the thing um, on Instagram, you posted this picture of a hummingbird, that was crazy! What made you post that?

NR: It’s this person that I’ve become friends with, they only try to post positive things…*he explains more about the person & post* (starts at 6:08)

EK: You wanna hear something kind of crazy about the hummingbird thing? I don’t know if you know this about me but I’ve definitely gotten more like spiritual…but like *Emily giggle* this is gonna sound crazy and I don’t even usually talk about this stuff, but I sort of have this sign of when I’m like guided where I’m supposed to go, and my sign has been a hummingbird. And you had text me and I randomly looked at your Instagram and saw—

NR: Wow

EK: —It definitely was like one of those where like ‘go there’, maybe it was just if there is a god or whatever just being like ‘oh nice, connect with your friend, you know, like connect with Norman…’

NR: I actually believe all that. When I texted you I was having breakfast at this place by the beach, the lady that makes the honey, by her place. And I was listening to your podcast with Lennie. And I had already heard Lauren’s and I was listening to Lennie’s, and at the end of it you were like ‘you know what I hope during Covid everyone can reach out to a friend’ and I was like ‘I’m just gonna text her’ so I texted you at that moment. I have the same thing with a bird like my dad, before my dad died he was always talking about cardinals, those red cardinals. So everytime I see a cardinal I think the same thing. And then the night before, Danai called me out of nowhere. I hadn’t spoken to Danai in forever. And she’s like ’what are you doing?’ and I’m like ‘I’m sitting on my patio with all the lights off…’ and there was a meteor shower, it was called like the Gideon meteor shower, this huge meteor shower that happened. And I saw 21 shooting stars before I went to bed. I pay attention to all that shit—

EK: Yeah

NR: 21! And I was like talking to her I’m like ‘there’s 11! There’s 12!’ and it just kept going. I believe all that stuff.

EK: I grew up Catholic so I kind of, like…religion in general felt sort of overwhelming even though prayer and stuff like that came naturally to me and then just over like the last like 5 or 6 years or so I’ve like really embraced it where I’m sort of like ‘yep, I think these things are happening, I have little signs that tell me like where to go…’. I guess I don’t really talk about it with people much but it’s just, like I read about it and stuff. Yeah.

NR: I believe it, I believe all of them. I’m not really religious but I believe all those signs all the time. I see little signs in everything, yeah.

EK: Yeah! (starts at 9:38) 

--

EK: That sounds like you’ve had a very productive quarantine, or whatever this corona-pocalypse quarantine time.

NR: I’m not good with sitting still, you know what I mean, so I’m always doing something.

EK: Yeah! Yeah. I mean that’s one thing, when I was thinking about—when I was around you more working on the show, was that you were always…like you know sitting down to dinner and then like noticing this saltshaker and this fork should be next to each other in a certain way and then you can take a picture. You know what I mean, like I remember that about you like always making something, I guess. Or looking for the art in it or the picture. Or, you know, which um—

NR: it’s ADD or something I dunno what…

EK: I admired it because I feel like I can be so slow. Like, I love making stuff but I can sort of like piece it together over weeks  and then I finally do—like in my head somehow, like I’m more of like a turtle! You know just like—

NR: Yeah but you make music! I mean, we all wish we could write songs and perform songs. You know, you make music. We all wish we were musicians, you know what I’m saying, so. (starts at 18:18)

--

EK: I remember you telling me a story of how you got an agent by like going to a party and then someone said ‘do you want to be in a play?’ and then you were the understudy and then the guy just happened to have to call out so then you were in the play, you didn’t have to be the understudy and then an agent—and that’s how it all started with acting, um, *laughs* did I just tell your story for you?!

NR: You’re right. No, no you’re exactly right. That’s exactly what happened. (starts at 26:08)

--

NR: I actually made an album, a music album

EK: You did?!

NR: Yeah

EK: Oh, that’s—you wrote all the songs and stuff? Or did you—

NR: I didn’t write any of it. And I didn’t really sing it, it’s more of a spoken word thing

EK: Yeah!

NR *tells story about how this came about, which involves an igloo*

EK: Wait, why were you in an igloo in Switzerland?! *laughs*

NR *tells more of the story…it’s long ok I don’t wanna transcribe it sdhfhsfh*

EK: Yeah I wanna hear your album! I mean…

NR: It’s out—

EK: It is?!

NR: It played…it did pretty well in France, it was on the radio and shit

EK: Yeah, will you email it to me or something, so I can…

NR: I will. Yeah yeah.

EK: I also wanted to make sure today to get some of your music picks because I remember back when we were on the show you always gave me the best music, like stuff that I hadn’t heard. I don’t know if if it’s just like because of your friends in New York or like maybe you’re a little bit older than me so you know different bands than I do. But, I remember like Dinosaur Jr., you like introducing me to Dinosaur Jr. Like I didn’t really know Dinosaur Jr. before you

NR: That’s crazy that you don’t know Dinosaur Jr. then (? I really can’t tell for sure that last word he says)

EK: I know! I think I might have pretended that I kind of I knew but like you introduced me for sure and I like totally dove in. But yeah during this quarantine, what have you been listening to?

NR: *lists some bands* Sean Lennon’s band that he made with Les Claypool is really good. He was on Ride with me.

EK: Oh, he was?! I’ve only see—I haven’t seen all the episodes of that, I’ve only seen, um, a few of them (adsdfdjf don’t lie Emily it’s probably actually 0 but we all understand babe) (starts at 35:10)

--

EK: It was so fun to talk to you today

NR: Yeah I miss you! I miss you, it’s good to see you and hear you.

EK: I miss you too, I’m going to check out that sock method…although I think it’s just pour over it’s just with a special…reusable—

NR: Yeah, a dirty sock

EK: Yeah, but something about it, yeah….*both laugh* Thank you for being on here, it feels so good to like chat with you

NR: Yeah, I miss you it’s good to hear your voice

EK: I miss you too, yeah. *she starts talking about twd & the connection with everyone etc* (starts at 41:36)

NR: *after he mentions everyone from the cast he’s still in touch with* You get these friendships with people and it becomes a big part of your life, your friends on the show, so. I’m glad I’m talking to you

EK: Yeah, I’m glad I’m talking to you too. (starts at 44:03)

From Emily’s end blurb: I hope you guys enjoyed Norman and I’s little catch up call over Zoom, I hope that you learned something new about Norman you didn’t know before. You know, Norman and I really hadn’t connected much over the last couple years (we all know this Emily and we pretty much all know why lol) we’ve just been on sort of different paths (yeah, that’s a way to put it I guess haha) but again and again I’m finding that one of the blessings of this time, being stuck at home, is remembering and reconnecting with people I care about and people that care about me. Maybe you have a friend you used to work with that you haven’t caught up with for a while and now you’ll feel inspired to send them a little text saying hello.

(How do they literally have chemistry on a *podcast* okay bye I’m going to go fly into the sun now)

[andipxndy-writes]

holiday mishaps (part 1)

fandom: alex rider x ncis [crossover] warnings: mentions of blood, typical ncis stuff requested by: @lilcoffeecup word count: 4.6k

cross posted to ao3

summary: Alex Rider just wanted a relaxing holiday, somewhere where he could relax without any trouble cropping up. And with Jack and her family, he almost got that. ALMOST. And then he had to go and take a midnight walk. On the other hand... Ziva David swears she recognises the fair-haired witness to their murder case.

notes: this was a fun little prompt to get!! it was originally requested to @theneedlesslobsters, which i was pretty hyped about. this ended up being... a lot longer than i anticipated, though. aimed for 10k, ended up with 30k+. so i’ve split this into 5 parts as best as i could. apologies in advance for any typos throughout :P

holiday mishaps

When Alex had imagined himself going on holiday, this certainly hadn’t been his intended outcome.

Granted, it had been a while since he’d actually been on holiday, and most of the times he’d been on holiday in the past they’d been during the more peaceful times in his life, but just once he was asking for there not to be an eventful screw-up during the MI6-light period of his life so that he could actually relax. Just once.

Apparently, that was too much to ask for.

All he’d wanted to do was go to the mall with Jack, explore a little bit, maybe buy himself some souvenirs to take back home to his friends. The friends he had disappeared from for months before finally returning with his “dead” housekeeper to the home and the school system of his childhood. Of course, switching education systems had been a hell of a lot to deal with, but as an A-Level student now he didn’t find himself trying too hard to play catch-up. He’d even caught up to and surpassed Tom (not much of a feat but he’d take it), which had irritated his best friend to no end. He would have said it made his other friends laugh, but then he didn’t really have any other friends.

But anyway, he’d wanted to go to the mall with his best friend, and that had backfired spectacularly, so now he was paying for it. Not in the literal sense, which is what he’d been hoping to do with a few souvenirs and some new clothes, but more in the metaphorical sense. And he hated that, because there was this whole thing about the customer always being right and not having to pay for something that they were disappointed with or didn’t like and that logic was sorely lacking right then.

How had it backfired? Well, at that specific point in time, he was heading through the mall, weaving through the crowds in an attempt to get away from his pursuer… whoever they were. He hadn’t entered the mall with the pursuers, otherwise he would’ve turned around and gone straight home. They’d somehow latched onto him and recognised him whilst he was there. Whether it was from the case he’d accidentally got involved in, or from one of the many missions he’d done in the past, he didn’t quite know. All he knew was that they were chasing after him and were probably going to kill him if they actually caught up to him. Or rather, that was what he was assuming.

He just considered himself lucky that Jack wasn’t with him but had gone off somewhere else. Even though that meant he was alone, it also meant that she was safer than he was, and hopefully the pursuers had stuck to chasing him instead of her shock of red hair. He would be absolutely fine with that.

Moments later, he was crouched down behind a bench, hoping to whatever deities existed that no one found him or outed him to his chasers. Perhaps if he waited there long enough, they would leave the mall, and he could find Jack and walk out just fine, and maybe go home or to the Navy Yard or wherever he’d be safe. Maybe even one of Jack’s siblings lived close enough for him to head there afterwards and give her parents a break, make the situation less stressful for them. Then they wouldn’t have to explain anything to them too. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea.

It was as these thoughts were running through his mind that exactly what he didn’t want happened.

His phone rang.

***

It would probably be best to explain exactly how Alex ended up in that situation in the first place.

In the teen’s defence, he hadn’t intended to get into trouble in the first place. It had been his idea to take the holiday to the States, yes, but that had been partially because he’d missed out on the A-Level Politics trip to New York and partially because he knew Jack was missing her family. Plus, it had only seemed fair for her to actually see them before she decided to contact them asking if they could help her out finishing her Law degree — as much as Alex wanted to help her out with his own savings, she had refused to take any of it. Which he considered stupid but he wasn’t going to push her. Pushing Jack was a stupid idea in and of itself.

Anyway, the trip had started off really well. Even though Tom hadn’t been able to come with them, Alex really enjoyed it at the start. They went to New York first, for Alex to catch up on the school trip that he’d missed and see all the sights everyone else in his class had spoken about, and they ended up spending most of the time sightseeing and trying various restaurants they’d seen on The Food Network (which Jack had thoroughly researched before they’d travelled). It was different without all of his classmates, but the teen found himself enjoying it more with Jack than the gaggle of twenty-or-so other teens who would’ve been on the trip. Alex thought he would have been stuffed silly for the rest of his life from all of the restaurants they visited, but somehow he always had space for more. Jack, obviously, started calling him a bottomless pit.

After about a week and a half in New York, they’d travelled down to Virginia. That happened to be where Jack’s family lived, and after everything she’d been through the past couple of years Alex was both excited and nervous about meeting them. After all, he was pretty much the reason why she’d stayed in the UK and dropped out of her Law course. Of course, he was also the reason why she was going back to study again.

Apparently Jack came from a military family, and so they lived on the base there. Quantico, Alex believed it was called. He’d been (rightfully) nervous when he’d found this out, but then he actually met them and he realised there had been nothing to actually worry about. He hit it off pretty quickly with Jack’s brothers and nephews and had been more than pleased when Jack told him they were spending a couple of weeks there together, as a huge family. He got in some good bonding time with them, and he even added them on socials so that they could message each other whenever he wasn’t around. Honestly, though, he enjoyed playing video games with them a lot more than he would enjoy messaging them on socials.

It had been whilst he was staying with the Starbright family when everything started to go wrong. Of course, it had been after a solid week of staying with them before anything actually happened, but it was more the fact that something had happened that pissed him off. He couldn’t even take one holiday to visit his housekeeper’s family without something going wrong.

Damnit, MI6.

It had happened on a late night walk. He’d wanted something to snack on in his room (whilst checking messages and playing games on his phone instead of, you know, sleeping), and of course Jack’s parents hadn’t had what he was craving in the house. American snacks just didn’t tickle his fancy like food from home did, but they would have to do. But he wanted something stupidly salty and really unhealthy, not granola bars. Hence, a late night walk. To the nearest convenience store. Which wasn’t too far out, hopefully.

Jack hadn’t minded letting him go out alone as long as he took his phone, and her parents seemed to trust that he’d be safe on the military base, so he’d been fine going out alone. In fact, he was glad to be going out alone. Sure, he enjoyed the company of Jack’s family, but as a self-proclaimed introvert sometimes he just wanted to be alone to recharge. Being surrounded by so many people usually prevented that.

The trip to the store had been pretty quiet. He’d taken his headphones with him, sticking them into his ears and playing some music on his phone as he walked. It was an album that Tom had recommended to him, and he had to admit — his best friend knew his tastes really well. And the store wasn’t even that far away, just as he’d hoped; it was only a fifteen minute walk from the house. The fresh air was nice too, and it gave him the chance to stretch his legs without asking whether he could go out for a morning run and risking someone deciding to join him (read: self-proclaimed introvert). When he entered the store, he headed straight for the snack section, looking through the different options available.

He didn’t really want to buy just cheetos, but he wasn’t really feeling like just chocolate either. It took him a little while to decide on what to buy, but in the end he grabbed a pack of cheetos, a couple of packs of chocolate, and a box of Cheerios to just snack on in his room (he knew what he’d said about healthy snacks before, but Cheerios had light layers of sugar on the outside so they counted as snack-worthy). Jack would probably judge him for it, but at this point he didn’t really care.

The cashier didn’t even really question him, popping a bubble of gum as he paid for his items and took everything in a bag large enough for all he’d bought. He had been half tempted to throw in a couple of sodas as well to make it a full midnight-snacking stock up, but he knew Jack would probably flip out if she saw it.

So yeah, the whole heading to the store and buying things at the store part was perfectly fine. He hadn’t encountered any issues, no one coming after him or anything.

No, the issue started when he was on his way home.

See, on his way to the convenience store, there had been a couple of alleyways that he’d passed on his way over. He hadn’t felt any need to look down them with the directions he’d been given and the fact that he was a bit of a danger magnet, and he’d had his headphones in anyway. If there was anything going on, he was blissfully unaware.

On the way back, though, he only had one in. Which meant that he was still alert as he headed back, listening out for anyone who could be sneaking up on him to mug him or something of the sort. After all, he was carrying a bag of shopping home. Anyone could see him as a target then.

That was the only reason why he’d heard the yell coming from one of the alleyways he’d passed on his way down, and he paused for a moment before backtracking to the entrance of the alleyway.

The alley itself was very dimly lit, so it took Alex a few moments for his eyes to adjust from the more clearly lit main street. When his eyes finally did adjust to the darkness, what he saw made his heart plummet. And then it made his instinctive, protective side kick in — the side that he had somehow honed with his time at MI6.

His need to protect.

And that was how he ended up kneeling beside a body, hands pressed to a wound to stop the man from bleeding out as his groceries sat forgotten to the side. And whoever had attacked the man laying on the ground had fled, though not before Alex had landed a solid few kicks and punches on the guy so that he hobbled away injured. But then, with the actual attacker gone and him left with the blood of a dying naval officer on his hands, he was obviously the main suspect on what had gone from a homicide investigated by the police to a homicide investigated by NCIS.

As if he needed to get involved in a murder case on a Naval base on his holiday visiting his housekeeper’s military family.

***

Cases weren’t so abnormal to encounter first thing in the morning at NCIS. In fact, they tended to spice up the day automatically just by providing something interesting to do other than paperwork and, in Ziva’s case, enduring the constant chatter of her ridiculously chipper coworkers. By chipper, she meant chatting non-stop about anything and everything that came to mind. And by coworkers, she meant Tony DiNozzo. Him specifically.

She honestly didn’t understand how Tony had so much to talk about, and there were many days that she wished he had lost his voice or was suddenly rendered unable to talk. Unfortunately, the moment she’d walked into the office, she’d realised that that day was not going to be one of those days.

“Will he shut his mouth if I gag him?” she asked suddenly, looking towards McGee. The younger agent typed away at his keyboard, barely glancing up when he heard the question.

“No, he might actually like that,” he commented casually, which earned him a playful grimace from Ziva and a look from Tony.

“I’ll have you know, my bedroom tastes do not involve gagging,” Tony pointed out, “yet.” He almost smirked when he saw McGee’s face flush and Ziva gag again, before a glint appeared in her eyes. A glint that made Tony almost regret what he’d just said.

Almost.

“Perhaps your tastes involve other types of bondage?” she asked, almost sounding innocent.

Tony didn’t fall for it one bit.

Before he could respond to her, though, Gibbs marched into the bullpen and towards his desk, halting all conversation. After all, it wasn’t the sort of thing that they wanted to discuss in front of the man. It would have been… ridiculously awkward.

“Grab your gear! Dead Naval officer in Quantico.”

By this point, all three agents had learnt not to question how someone had died on a Naval base, or who exactly had thought it smart to kill someone on a Naval base when there were so many officers living in the vicinity. In fact, they barely said anything as they all grabbed their bags and headed straight for the elevator.

As the doors shut, though, Gibbs casually commented,

“You should see a doctor about those bruises on your wrists, Tony.”

Which, of course, made Ziva and McGee turn to Tony with wide eyes as the more senior agent stumbled over his words, trying to explain himself.

***

When they arrived at the scene, they were almost immediately allocated to different jobs: bagging and tagging, interviews, and crime scene photos. The scene itself seemed to be in an alleyway just off a main street, dumpsters from the buildings either side of the alley placed at varying points along it up until the chainlink fence at the end.

The scene itself, with the dead Naval officer, was about halfway down the alley. Which, at first glance, was a little confusing. Anyone who was running from an attacker would head straight for the chain-link fence and probably get there or get significantly closer before getting caught. Which Ziva didn’t hesitate to point out as she moved to take photos of the scene whilst Tony bagged and tagged evidence.

Tony simply raised an eyebrow at her as he bagged yet another piece of evidence. “You speaking from experience, Ziva?”

Ziva just blinked at him, confused for a moment. “You ask me as if you have none.”

“Experience in being chased or climbing fences?”

“Experience in being caught by your attacker at the fence.” The scowl she got from him only made her smirk, and she turned back to taking photos of the scene before he could come back with any sort of smart comment. If she wasn’t looking in his direction, it made it easier to zone him out and therefore easier for her to do her job. “Am I wrong, though?”

They both knew that she wasn’t wrong.

Before they could really continue their conversation, though (which was held a good way from Gibbs and Ducky so that they didn’t get overheard and told off for slacking), they were interrupted by someone approaching. All Gibbs had to do was send them a look and they’d zoom back off to work for fear of being so seriously told off, so they knew it wasn’t him when the approacher came with a significant lack of yelling or judgement.

In fact, they were just over halfway through their assessment of the scene when McGee had headed straight over, notepad in hand as he straightened his hat awkwardly. Like he was about to say something that the others — more specifically, Gibbs — wouldn’t quite like. He awkwardly met Ziva and Tony’s eyes before he started to speak.

“Uh, so our main suspect… well, the guy that was found at the scene when the officer was dying, he’s uh…”

“Quiet?” Ziva offered, at the same time Tony said, “Eclectic?”

McGee was clearly resisting the urge to roll his eyes at Tony’s comment, and had opted to focus on Ziva for the rest of the conversation. Just so that he didn’t start yelling at the Senior Field Agent. “Yeah, in a way. Like, closed off. He wasn’t really answering the questions, refused medical treatment, and he has a guardian or something who’s come to try and get him to go home with her.”

That was when a frown suddenly appeared on Ziva’s face. Tony was the one who spoke, though.

“A guardian? What, is the guy a kid?”

When the only response was silence, it made Ziva more than a little worried. She’d got a brief glance of the suspect who had been at the scene as they’d approached the scene, and she hadn’t thought he was any younger than twenty. With the need of a guardian, though, that meant he had to be younger than eighteen.

Basically a child. Legally a child. Which meant that his guardian was most definitely allowed to be around during any sort of questioning and interrogation. Sometimes that was helpful, sometimes it was difficult. Very difficult.

And it seemed like McGee couldn’t tell which one it would be.

“Have you told Gibbs?” Ziva asked, glancing over McGee’s shoulder to try and take a look at the person he’d been interviewing. She could barely catch a glimpse, but what looked to be a fair-haired young man was sat on the back of an ambulance, trying to scrub what looked like blood off his hands. She didn’t know what the guardian looked like, but a redheaded woman was standing not too far from him, the only thing between them being a police officer seemingly mediating the whole situation.

McGee glanced over to where Gibbs seemed to be just finishing up with the body, leaving Ducky and Palmer to deal with the body and escort it back for the proper autopsy. “Not yet,” he answered, “though I guess I’m gonna tell him now.”

“I guess you gotta,” Tony responded sarcastically. Ziva nudged him with her foot, sending him a look. As soon as Gibbs approached the group, McGee turned to explain the situation to him, leaving Tony and Ziva to continue going through all of the evidence at the crime scene. They could only hope that the guardian was more reasonable than most guardians tended to be — cooperative and willing to let their ward actually talk.

***

When they finally got the kid to the conference room — because he still seemed more like a witness than a suspect, and because there was a guardian present who probably wouldn’t take too kindly to having their ward being questioned like they were a murderer — they found out that he was definitely a teen, probably around sixteen or so. He was also British, and on holiday to the States with his guardian to sightsee and visit her family. The guardian, on the other hand, was a lot more vocal about the situation than the teen was, almost ready to fight as soon as they’d stepped into the conference room. It had taken the interrogator, who happened to be Ziva at that moment, several minutes to convince her that the teen (who she had by that point had found out was called Alex) wasn’t actually in trouble but was just being asked about his opinion on what had happened. And even then, Alex had to nudge her a couple of times to make sure she didn’t just scream the room down.

When she eventually did calm down, Ziva got a pretty comprehensive understanding of the situation that made her realise that Alex wouldn’t have been in such a situation if someone had just gone with him to the store. Yes, he was capable of walking to a store by himself, but he was also on holiday in a foreign country, in a place that he wasn’t particularly familiar with. But, he was a teenager. Teenagers liked to do things by themselves. She certainly remembered doing things like that as a teen — or, at least, trying to do things like that before getting caught and told off.

She still didn’t quite understand how his guardian had so willingly let him roam the streets of a foreign country freely, but before she’d had the chance to ask such a question, the teen started looking very uncomfortable in what he was wearing. After all, he was still in what he’d worn the night before, and the front of his outfit was stained with blood that would definitely be very difficult to get out. Ziva decided it was alright for them both to go. If they needed any more information, they could call them back in for questioning.

In fact, Ziva made sure to point this out to them. Whilst Alex, the teen, had been seemingly okay with it, his guardian clearly had not. She had a feeling she knew exactly who would pick up if they called them back in for further questioning.

Ziva’s time focusing on her thoughts was cut short when Tony suddenly appeared beside her on her way back from the conference room. She didn’t doubt that he’d been listening in from the other side of the door for anything and everything that could be of interest to their case, as if she couldn’t do the job well enough herself.

“Well, that sounded like a fun conversation,” he commented, and she couldn’t quite read whether he was teasing her or just being sarcastic. She decided the first one seemed a more plausible conclusion and went with that, deciding that the best reaction would be to scowl at Tony before rolling her eyes at him. A usual response to him when he said things like that, and it wasn’t as if he was put off by her reaction if the smirk he gave her was any indication.

“Was the conversation not what you expected?” she challenged as they continued down the hall and exited into the general office area.

He gave a little shrug as they spotted the bullpen across the room, heading over to it. “I guess an interrogation— sorry, a conversation is what you expect of it, not me.”

Ziva glanced over at him as they reached the bullpen, moving towards her desk. It was when she’d sat down that she took the time to really scrutinise his face. “It was not what you expected,” she stated, knowing that was what he meant without even having to ask the question.

He simply raised an eyebrow at her as he sat on the edge of his desk. “Oh, so you’re coming to conclusions without even asking me my actual opinion now?”

Her nose scrunched up as she stood and leaned on her desk, pointing at his face, wiggling her pointer finger a little bit. “Your opinion is written all over your face.”

Tony barely hesitated before turning to McGee at his desk. “Is my opinion written all over my face?”

McGee didn’t even look before answering, “You’re as readable as an open book.”

Before Tony could argue, Gibbs was rounding the corner into the bullpen, causing the two bickering agents to quickly move to stand in front of the plasma whilst McGee remained at his desk, tapping away.

“What have we got?”

As pictures appeared on the screen, Ziva zoned out a little. The image of the teen had appeared alongside the image of the dead Naval Officer, Petty Officer Lewis, and Tony and McGee were rattling off details that they’d managed to find about him — his lifestyle, when he’d last worked, who he was married to, where he lived, where he was from, all of that sort of thing. The kind of thing that would explain if and when he could have found someone who wanted to kill him, that sort of thing. Ziva had already caught up on all of this before going into her conversation with the teen to figure out whether he was actually involved in what had happened to the officer or just an innocent passerby. From what he had told her, it seemed like he was more the latter.

She considered herself lucky that she managed to zone back in just as she was needed for information, and she snatched the clicker from Tony before zooming in on the teen.

“Our first and only suspect so far,” she started, “Alex Rider. Sixteen, British, lives in London with his guardian Jack Starbright.” A few more clicks, and a redheaded woman’s license appeared on the screen beside some of Alex’s extra details. “Alex is a regular school student, clean record, nothing out of the ordinary that would tip him off. Trained in the martial arts, but it seems like more of a hobby than anything.” Another click, and the image of Jack’s license zoomed in. “Jack is an American citizen, born in Virginia and raised on base. Her family are Navy, she has numerous brothers… nothing out of the ordinary with her either. It seems more like they stumbled on the situation out of…” She trailed off before she could finish that situation. She knew exactly what would be said about her observation.

“We don’t believe in coincidences,” Tony commented, glancing towards Gibbs as if he was looking for affirmation.

McGee raised an eyebrow at Tony. “I don’t know, Tony. This looks like a case of wrong place, wrong time to me.” And Ziva agreed wholly with that statement, she really did, even though there was the whole rule about there not being such a thing as coincidences. But she didn’t even need to look at Gibbs to know that he did not agree with that statement at all. He was probably staring at the screen with that usual steely look as he tried to come to a conclusion, trying to work out the case mentally and wait for his team to catch up.

“Question the family,” Gibbs suddenly suggested, moving to his desk to grab something. “Find out more about the kid, and find out more about the Petty Officer Lewis. His past and current contacts. Get more suspects. I need more information, and I want to know everything.”

There was a brief moment of hesitation and everyone mentally assigned themselves a task, before they all parted ways to do what they needed — leaving Tony and Ziva both grabbing their bags as they headed to the elevator, doing exactly as Gibbs asked them to do.

After all, who else would question the family?

[mirkwoodshewolf]

A longtime affair revealed ; Brian May x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys well be prepared to do some binge reading because for my Rock Angel series I’ve got 3 chapters ready for ya’ll. Now for this one, I just wanna let you all know THIS IS PURELY FANFICTION!!! In this chapter we’re gonna get into how the Rock Angel soon found out about Brian and Anita. Now like I told my Wattpad followers and readers, if this causes any wars, harrassment or bullying in ANY SHAPE OR FORM. THIS. CHAPTER. WILL. BE. DELETED!!!

I’m writing through how the Rock Angel would react plus a bit of combination on facts that I have gotten from seeing/reading interviews from Brian about this topic.  

Warnings: Angst, cheating, affairs, swearing, more angst, maybe fluff (if you squint). 

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@platawnic​

@queensdivas​

@kairosfreddie​

@queendeakyy​

@geek-and-proud​

@onebigfangirlworld​

@naturalswifty89​

@starswin​

@dj-lowkey​

@isabella-bby​

@labessieisallama​

@5sos-wdw​

@bohemiansweede​

____________________________________________________________

*April 14th, 1988. LA home*

Now don’t get me wrong, I love having the guys over and my door is always open to them but—this is just weird.  To brush you all up, around late February just a couple weeks after my birthday, Brian shows up out of nowhere on our doorstep in our home in LA wanting to stay with us for a while.

He didn’t give us any rhyme or reason just that he needed to be out of the country for a bit.  So Jack and I welcomed him in and he’s been a great help around the house. Helping with the laundry, cleaning the place, taking care of Kelly, and he’s also been helping me produce my music.

Since Queen hasn’t decided to do another tour in the past 2 years, Rog and Bri took this time to do some solo works.  Freddie also did a couple of solo stuff and Deacy’s worked with a different band playing the bass for them but his days are just spending it with Ronnie and the little Deaklings.

But back to Brian.  He’s been so secretive lately, late night phone calls (and I’m talking about phone calls at like 3am our time), wanting to keep certain letters or mail to himself, and anytime I mentioned Chrissie at all, he’d get all tense and try to leave the room by making up some excuse regarding Kelly or working on his next solo project.

One night at almost 4o’clock in the morning, I woke up cause I was thirsty.  So quietly I went downstairs to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of milk.  But just as I poured myself a cup and was about to drink it, I could hear the soft murmuring voice of Brian out on the back deck.

“I know, I know. I just needed to get away for a bit, besides, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen the Kline family and they are important to me.” I silently stalked towards the back door to see Brian standing with the cordless phone up to his ear. “I’ll be back by the end of the week. I love you too, bye.” He spoke with such love as he made his declaration of love.

Okay maybe I’m being paranoid but he couldn’t be—no not Brian Harold May. There’s no way he could be cheating.  Could he? No, no, no, no, no snap out of it! Just because it happened to you (and Dominique, god I wish I could just slug Roger sometimes) but there’s no way that Brian could do something like this.

I heard him sigh as he now sat on one of the lawn chairs we had along the back deck while I silently snuck back to the kitchen and quietly rinsed off my cup after I downed the milk.  After putting it in the dishwasher I snuck back upstairs and fell right back asleep.

The next morning I had made a full buffet for breakfast for my two hungry boys, myself, and my baby girl.

“Okay here we go breakfast. The most important meal of the day. Eggs Sunnyside up, bacon on a side of toast. A stack of humungous chocolate chip pancakes which do smell incredible, if I do say so myself. And for my favorite guitarist Jelly filled muffins, and wholesome banana bread with tofu dogs and a tall glass of OJ.”

“Alright mama lioness, thank you.” Jack praised as he cut his Sunnyside egg and ate the piece of it.

“Ba bou mama.” Kelly thanked me in her baby tongue.

“You are most welcome my loves.”

“It really does look delicious (Y/n).” Brian told me.  While the three of us began eating our meal, Brian just sat there with his hands in his lap staring at his food.

“You’re not hungry again?” Jack questioned as he paused from eating his bacon.  I set my knife and fork down and said as I walked up to him.

“Okay what’s going on?” Brian looked at me humming in confusion. “Last night for dinner you hardly touched my veggie lasagna, which you say is my best dish ever, and now you don’t want breakfast. Bri are you sure you’re not sick?” I cupped his face in my hands trying to feel for a fever.

“I’m fine darling, really I am.” He took my hands off his face and kissed the back on my right one.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m fine just—a little tired is all. Hadn’t really been sleeping well these past few days.” I raised my brow at him skeptically.  I hummed suspiciously as I went back to my seat and finished up my breakfast.

After breakfast, Jack went to work selling cars (ever since we officially decided to stay in LA around last year, Jack got a job at a local car dealership.  It pays well whenever I wasn’t working and it’s nice to see two breadwinners instead of it just being me).

While I was cleaning up the dishes and Brian was cleaning up Kelly of the chocolate from the chocolate chip pancakes she wanted to devour I said to him.

“Hey Brian.”

“Yeah poppet?”

“You know there are additional ways to try and go to sleep that don’t involve raising my phone bill.”

“Wait you knew?”

“Bri, I have a toddler that still wakes me up every now and again. I’m sorta trained to wake up at odd hours in the morning, even when she doesn’t need me. So who is it that you keep calling at odd hours of the night and risking a higher raise on my bill? Cause I sure as hell know it’s not Miami or the guys.”

“It’s uhh—it’s uhh well it’s…..Chrissie!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, yeah. She-she’s just been wanting to check up on me. In fact she’s in New York for a conference.”

“Ahh I see. So you wanted to call Chrissie at a time that was convenient for her because of the time difference.”

“Yes! Exactly because of the time difference!” Brian cheered.  I turned off the tap and dried my hands off agreeing with Brian.  I then took my baby girl out of her high chair as I told him point blank,

“So you waited until it was 1am her time. That makes perfect sense.” His face dropped but he suddenly blurted out.

“Actually!” my brow raised at him challengingly.  He better come up with the best lie right now. Hell he calls me a bad liar, well he’s even worse, especially once he’s put under the radar. “It was 7pm her time. See while she was in New York for business, she’s now been transferred to—Paris.” What?

But doing that cute little nod of his and smiling confidently, he thought he could make it believable.  I would’ve continued on but I was gonna be late if I kept at it.

“Nice save.” I took Kelly into the living room and set her down in her play pin where she grabbed her stuff lion that Roger gave her for her birthday. “Alright look Bon Jovi, I know you’re producing my new album but I need you to stay here and look after Kelly since Jack is working late today and we can’t find a sitter for her. Besides Elton’s coming over for our duet song today so we can handle that.”

“Okay sure. I can keep little Kelly company. Maybe we can go for an outing in the park today.”

“No outings! Remember what that bastard reporter did last month when all of us were out?” long story short, a vulgar male photographer from an LA tabloid stalked me, Brian, Jack and Kelly while we were out for a spring picnic.  He even went as far as to shove his camera in my baby’s face.  

Had it not been for Brian and Jack holding me back, I would’ve knocked that camera right into his eye. And he’d have a camera lens for an eye for the next 20 years cause technology of today wouldn’t be able to get it out of him less he dies.

Needless to say, my name went on the tabloids the next day as Rock Angel throws Raging Rampage! Of course I did my explanation to a radio station in England and now it’s divided fans on whether I was in the wrong or right to do that.

“Oh yeah. Okay fine, we can find some stuff to do here, can’t we Kelly?” she babbled as she continued to play with her stuffed lion. “See?”

“Okay. But—promise you’ll call if anything comes up.”

“No worries mama, I can handle things from here. We’ll see you both tonight. This time I’ll cook dinner.” He said as he came up to me, cupped my face and stroked my cheeks with his thumbs.  Looking down at me with those soft blue eyes finally made me submit to his will.

“Okay, love you both.” I kissed Brian’s cheek before going over to my baby girl and gave her many kisses all over her cheek and finally heading out the door to work with Elton on our duet song.

Later that night both Jack and I returned home exhausted and tired from a long day.  As we met up in the driveway of our home, we met each other and kissed each other.

“How was your day love? Sell any good cars?”

“Yep. Managed to sell off this old ’79 corolla that’s been in the shop since they came out. And for a good price too.”

“Excellent.”

“And how was working with Elton John? You know my mom would die if she found out. She’s a huge Elton John fan, ever since she was a teenager.”

“I know. She showed me her collection of Elton vinyl’s she’s collected in the past. But working with Elton is—certainly a challenge. I mean David was tough enough but Elton—yeesh. But they both are my idols and dearest friends. They have their own way of doing things, and you have to find a compromise.”

“I’ll bet.” Just before we went back inside the house, we saw walking right up the sidewalk a women around her 30’s possibly even 40 years old.  She had curly red hair, and she had that vibrant glow about her.

“Ohh sorry, I figured you both would still be out. But I guess it had to come out eventually.” I turned to Jack and he said alarmed.

“I swear baby I have no idea who this woman is.” I turned back towards the woman and said.

“Can we help you Miss?”

“Oh right, sorry. I’m just here to return Brian’s jumper that he left at my place.” His jumper? At her place?

“Okay well I can just give it to him, and—how exactly do you know Brian? And no offense ma’am but how did you get my address?” she softly laughed.  Laughed? What the—why the hell was she laughing?! Is this chic on something?

“No worries darling I’m not some deranged fangirl or anything. Freddie told me where Brian was staying at. I’m Anita Dobson.”

Wait, wait I know that name. Yeah I know exactly who she is. She’s an actress from the soap opera EastEnders.  She’s also a singer and rumors have been speculating about her and Brian—oh god no! Oh HELL NO!!

At that point my fist clenched up and my breathing grew sharp and heavy.  I turned back towards the house and stormed towards it.

The door slammed open and I cried out.

“BRIAN HAROLD MAY!! GET YOUR FUCKING ARSE DOWN HERE NOW!!” I heard a thunderous and rapid pacing of footsteps coming down the stairs as Brian with a horrified look on his face.

“What the hell (Y/n) you’re gonna wake up your own daughter.”

“Oh no you don’t get to talk back to me after what you’ve done!”

“What did I do? I-I-I-I hadn’t done anything.”

“You call this not doing anything!?” at that moment Jack came inside the house with Anita.  Nervous she waved at Brian and greeted him.

“Hello Brian.”

“Anita? Wha—what are you doing here? I told you I would be back by the end of the week.”

“I know, I know but—you know that jumper you left over at my place at New Years, I found it.” She then took out Brian’s jumper that I had given him as a Christmas present the first time I spent my first Christmas with them.

I crossed my arms over my chest as Brian awkwardly came down the rest of the stairs and took his jumper back.

“Thanks love.”

“Someone better start talking or I swear heads will roll.” I threatened.  Both Brian and Anita shifted on their feet as Brian said.

“(Y/n), Jack. Anita and I—well……we’ve been…..we’ve been seeing each other.”

“As in—”

“Yes Jack. Anita and I have been very secretly involved with each other.” At that point everyone went silent.  At this point I was beyond pissed off.  This was just like seven years ago when I caught Adam with that blonde bitch Becky in our bed shagging each other.  Now here was Brian.

Brian May! One of the four men who helped comfort me the day after I found out I had been cheated on.  And now here he was doing, what my dick of a boyfriend did, to Chrissie!

I just……I couldn’t even look at him.

“Look. I—I didn’t mean to impose, especially to you (Y/n), maybe I shouldn’t have come.” You think?! “Maybe I should go?”

“No, no Anita I can’t have you walking out this late all alone.” Brian said as he took hold of her hand.

“Well where am I gonna sleep, here?”

“Whoa-ho!” I warned them. They looked at each other and Brian said.

“We’ll go to a hotel. I think uhh—after tonight I—might not be welcomed back here.” Anita looked at Brian and said.

“If you insist.” They walked towards the door. I beat them to the front door and locked it saying in a low, threatening tone.

“No you’re not.”

“No we’re not.” Anita enforced as she and Brian walked away from the front door. “If you both go to a hotel you’re gonna be—” I tried to ease out my breathing trying to get them mental picture out of my brain. “Doing things. I want you both where I can see you!”

“Wait you’re gonna keep an eye on us?” Brian asked in a ‘are you serious’ manner.

“That’s right Brian Harold May and I don’t care how old you are. As long as you live under my roof, you’ll obey by my rules! And that means no sleeping with your girlfriend.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding, she can be a fierce lioness.” I heard Anita whisper to Brian and he nodded.

“Now Anita, there’s a guest room down here you can rest in. Brian, you’ll stay in your room. Jack take Anita to her room.” He nodded and guided Anita just down the hall.

Once they were gone, Brian turned to me and tried to explain everything.

“Now (Y/n) this isn’t what it—”

“Oh so you didn’t invite your hussy to my house so that you could finally bring into light that you’re cheating on Chrissie with an actress? The typical Rock Star affairs! I expected this from Roger but never from you Brian! Do you realize how sick this makes me feel?”

“I just—”

“I don’t wanna hear about it anymore! Now go to your room!” I yelled as I pointed up the stairs.  He sighed heavily and walked up the stairs, shoulders slumped and his spirit broken.

As Jack and I now prepared for bed, I didn’t speak a word to my husband as I angrily got into bed.  After a long bit of awkward silence Jack said.

“You know I hadn’t seen you this angry since Prenter went on that interview and spilled out all of Freddie’s secrets.”

“If this is your way to try and cheer me up, I’m gonna boot you to the couch for the next month.” I turned away from him, “I don’t wanna discuss this anymore till morning, good night Jack.”

“Night (n/n). Love you.” I didn’t respond back. All I kept thinking was the rage I was feeling towards Brian about this whole thing.

The next morning, Anita showered up, got dressed and Brian helped pay for her cab fair to the airport.  Once she was out of the house, Jack went to take Kelly out for a walk leaving Brian and I alone in the house.

I was currently getting lunch started cutting up some cucumbers, peppers and onions for a sauce while Brian stood on the other side of the island I was cutting on.

“So……how long have you and……” I couldn’t even finish my sentence so I just went back to rapid cutting the veggies.

“Anita and I met 2 years ago, in Beverly Hills for a premiere. I even invited her to our show at Wembley stadium when we did our last tour. She said you were phenomenal on stage.” I ceased my cutting and looked up at him.

“Flatter will get you nowhere hound dog.”

“(Y/n) seriously you’re not playing fair.”

“And you’re one to talk about fair. Does Chrissie know about her?!” Brian didn’t say a word. “See? Brian you—you know what I went through when I got cheated on. Hell you comforted me! But yet here you are doing what that dick Adam did to me! Tell me something, does Anita provide you the same sexual pleasures that you used to have with Chrissie?”

“Oh my god (y/n) how do you…..”

“When you’re friends with one Freddie Mercury and one Roger Taylor. You hear a lot more than you should.”

“It has nothing to do with sex, lust or anything like that. I—I love her. I fell in love with Anita.”

“But what about Chrissie? Your kids? Would you really leave them for that actress?”

“The kids never. But—” Oh my god.  He would willingly leave Chrissie.  Oh my god that poor, poor woman. “Listen (Y/n), I didn’t want to tell you this but—my marriage has been falling apart for years. I just—I didn’t know what else to do, but when I met Anita, she was like—a light force had come into my life.”  I remained silent as I stuck the knife into the cutting board.

“I can’t do this anymore. I—I want you out of this house within the hour.” His eyes widened and he softly said my name.

“(Y/n). I—”

“GET OUT OF HERE!!!” I shouted as I turned my back on him.  Silence once again surrounded us and it was then I heard him gently tread up the stairs to pack his stuff.  Next thing I heard was the front door opening and then closing.

A few weeks later; I was cleaning up the house while Jack and Kelly were out having their monthly Father-daughter bonding time.  

As I turned the vacuum off, there was a loud, thunderous knock at the door.  I at first jumped, startled by the knocking, but I went to answer the door.  And I was surprised to see just who it was.

“Chrissie?” for the first time in 2 years since I’ve seen her she suddenly appears on my doorstep in LA with a bag full of groceries. “What are you doing here?”

“I first came to give you this,” she handed me the bag. “And this!” that’s when I got slapped hard in the back of my head.

“Owie! Why though?” she stormed into my house as she said.

“Why did you have to fill Brian’s head about trying to make things right!?” She sat down on my couch.  “Honestly (Y/n), now there’s some ice cream in there, put it in the freezer before it melts.” I quickly did as she said and I turned towards her and asked her in complete shock.

“Wait so—you knew?!”

“Of course I knew!”

“Why didn’t you say anything? To Brian or even reach out to me?” I said as I sat beside her.  She took a deep breath before saying.

“Sweetie I hate to tell you this but—our marriage has been failing for years.” I looked at her in shock.

“What? How long?”

“It’s been so long that I’ve forgotten now. But it’s really been hard since 2 maybe 3 years now.” What? But—they always seemed happy together whenever I saw them.

“Chrissie I—why didn’t you talk to anyone about it?”

“Brian and I tried to work in marriage counseling but with the final Queen tour it got too much, and once the tour was over it—felt like we were both wasting our time. So we just—agreed to not talk or be near each other for a bit till we both came to an agreement on what to do. Plus we didn’t want to upset the kids. Do you know how hard it is for a child so see their parents screaming at each other constantly?” From what I remember my parents rarely got mad at each other, they always had the perfect marriage.

Now I’m not naïve I know that some marriages never work out.  Some of my friends I once had in secondary school had to go through their parents getting divorce and it really affected them.  Hell I can even give my aunt and uncle, they hated each other and yet they continued to stay married to each other (to my knowledge I don’t think I ever heard them say I love you to each other).

“Plus all this fighting and the arguments it hasn’t been helping Brian mentally.” My brows furrowed in confusion. “There’s—also been some stuff going on beyond just us. His father got diagnosed with stage 3 lung cancer and he’s getting sicker and sicker by the day. That, plus our marriage crumbling to bits, Brian he—he’s said if it weren’t for the kids, as well as you and Kelly…….he would’ve contemplated suicide.”

What? He—he never mentioned that to me. Oh god and now I’ve……shit.

“Chrissie if this is a way to try and guilt me, it’s working.”

“Oh sweetie I don’t mean to guilt you. I’m just telling you all on what’s been going on.”

“I knew Brian had his dark moments but—lately, especially since Kelly was born, he’s always put on a happy face around us. I just—I can’t believe I never saw it.”

“Even the brightest people can have their darkest moments.” No shit.  I mean I should know cause I’ve had those days myself.  God I feel like such a hypocrite now.

“I will say this though; ever since he did meet that—actress. He’s been more involved with the kids, he’s been more attentive to them, more loving, and involved in their lives. In fact I’ve never seen him happier than he is right now.” God now I really feel like shit. But what about Chrissie herself?

“But what about you?”

“I’ll be fine. I think—I think Brian and I have come to an understanding in the last few months that…..it’s best for us and for the kids that we get a divorce. Because at this point it’ll get too crazy. Now you little miss. You gotta make things right with him.”

“I don’t think he’ll listen to me. Chrissie I—I unleashed every ounce of anger I had. It felt like I got cheated all over again. I thought back to when—and then I thought of you and…….” She wrapped an arm around me and she said.

“Oh angel, I know you were thinking your heart was in the right place. Especially since I’m the mother of his kids and we’ve been married for over 10 years. And Brian told me what had happened to you when that bastard of an ex-boyfriend cheated on you. Being cheated on its—it sucks.”

“I agree it totally sucks.” I groaned out as we both softly laughed.

“Go get the ice cream, we can drown our sorrows in that instead of wine.” I went to the freezer and got the ice cream out as well as two spoons and we both shared the ice cream together.

After finishing the tube of ice cream, I was lying on the floor while Chrissie was sprawled out on my bed.

“Can I be honest with you Chrissie?” she hummed. “Since—you and Brian are gonna be….you know divorced, does—does that mean we won’t see each other again?” she slid down the couch to come close to me and she said.

“That’s up to you honey. I’ll tell you what; if you ever need a neutral ground to stand on, and rant about how crazy your child and future children make you, I’ll be there for you.”

“Thanks Chrissie. And I’m really sorry I screwed this up.”

“You should be. But—I forgive you.” she said as she hugged me.  As we both swayed from side to side she then asked me, “So—have you met her?” I knew that she was referring to Anita.

“Yes. You’re ten times prettier than she is.”

“That’s sweet. Could I take her?”

“With this right hook, no contest Lady Ali.” She chuckled and embraced me tighter.

After that, she left my house and she stayed at a hotel nearby before she would fly back to LA.  It was then I decided to call Brian to talk this out.  He agreed and so I was going to fly out to London to see him so that he and I could talk about this like reasonable adults.

So that night I booked a flight for tomorrow morning and told Jack what all was going to happen.  I would stay with Roger for a few days while Brian and I tried to talk things out.

When I got to London, I was sitting in Hyde Park with my shades (well an old pair of Roger’s shades he had back in the 70’s that I ‘borrowed’) on protecting my eyes from the bright sun.

“(Y/n).” I looked up and there wearing his own pair of shades was the curly haired guitarist himself.

“Bri.”

“Shall we walk?” I nodded and soon the two of us walked side by side.  There was a bit of awkward silence between us at first till I finally spoke up.

“Chrissie came to the house and told me everything that’s been going on.”

“Of course she did.” He muttered.

“You should be grateful though. Bri—I really wanted to try and forget you after hearing about what you did. But hearing about everything that’s been going on in that head of yours—I can’t believe you’d think about killing yourself.”

“It’s—I’ve got no excuse. I’ve been feeling like an utter failure these past couple of years outside of Queen. Chrissie and I just….we were constantly fighting all the time. But when I met Anita—it was like finally coming out from the water I had been drowning in.”

“I don’t condone the cheating cause—you know how I went through it. After getting both sides of the story I—I know I can’t be involved in this situation cause it’s none of my business. This is between you, Chrissie and���Anita. But…..just promise me this. Tell me again this has nothing to do with anything sexual.”

“It had nothing to do with the fact that Anita was prettier than Chrissie. Nothing about appearances, not about urges. Nothing of that sort.” I nodded.

“It’s gonna take some time. I mean hell I don’t even know if I can accept her but—I’ll try my best to not be a total bitch around your new lady friend.”

“That’s all I ask for (Y/n). I won’t force you to be friends with Anita. I just…..want you to understand where I stand on this matter.” I nodded. “Are there any other questions you have for me?”

The rest of the day was just Brian and I talking about his relationship with Anita.  How it began, when they first started falling for each other, things like that.

By the first week of May, Chrissie and Brian finalized their divorce papers.  Brian May was now officially separated from his wife and he was now freely able to stay with Anita over at her place.  I’ll be grateful that they didn’t go off and get hitched as soon as it happened.

In fact Brian invited Jack and myself to have dinner to officially get to know Anita better.  It was a calm, quiet meal with small talk of just getting to know one another on a more stable level.  

I apologized to Anita on my behavior when we first met and she immediately forgave me (Brian had told her that I had been cheated on and that’s why I had flipped my shit on the both of them).

Now I won’t get into too much after this but I will say this, it took me a year and a half to finally come around to Anita and accept her into the ‘Queen/Angel’ circle.  Cause like Brian said, she is charming, witty, sweet, loving, a bit cheeky, but she is passionate about what she does and—she is definitely a force not to be reckoned with.

Chrissie and I still kept in contact but eventually when my schedule soon started back up with recording and doing my tours again, we lost contact with each other.  And I hate to admit it but eventually all contact suddenly just ceased from her end.

Yeah I was heartbroken at first, but I had a feeling deep down that Chrissie might have wanted to just cut ties with everyone. I’m even told by Veronica and Dominque that they hadn’t heard a word from her either.

In the end, not all relationships can be successful and eventually old ties must be severed if we are to continue on in life. But in my mind I’ll still remember the support and love Chrissie gave me.

[calypsoff]

Fifteen. Part 4

Making my way back down the stairs, I thought I would leave Chris to it, at times I feel like Chris gets all nervous that I am watching him do things but he seems so excited about the bedroom with that damn fire on, so I left him to it and have come downstairs. I can sit with the family for a while, if he is awake then I will be riding him, but I want him to settle in “here is us thinking you wasn’t going to come down” I laughed pulling the chair out “why is that?” Raising my eyebrow “mhmmm you know why, but is he actually going to bed?” Sitting down smiling, I am smiling because my man is funny in his own way “he is and he had the fire on” the gasps around the table made me laugh “I said the same thing, he is special. To my heart” my brothers look shocked, I don’t blame them because I was too “he’s a different breed, but I want to get to know him” Rorrey leaned over “you do!? You’ve never said that to any of my other boyfriends?” He really hasn’t “I’ve never heard my sister say she wants him to be her husband, I have heard you say love. I see how happy you are, I want to just chill with him without you staring at me, yes I asked about his jail thing but that’s just a talk. But I will” that is different for him “does he know what you got him? For tomorrow” shaking my head “he’s going to be shocked, I said there is something happening. Part one of your birthday but that is all he knows” Noella got up from the chair “baby your bump is so cute!” I spat, I stretched out “let me touch my baby” I reached over “thank you” I touched her bump “I can’t wait for my baby to arrive” I grinned, Noella knows this is my child when it arrives “tell your husband that I will go with him for that walk” she’s right, I need to tell him that “husband?” I giggled like a fool “girl, you are too in love” she walked off.

I laughed shaking my head, my family know how I am feeling because of how much I have been speaking on Chris, I do love him “lift your glass up, come on!” Leandra spat, picking up my wine glass up “this is to Robyn being a homeowner, to being in love, for us being together right now. I love y’all niggas” we clinked glasses “to y’all keeping me sane, I love you all” drinking from the glass “I see big things to come, I can’t believe that your album will be out soon, the tour? Chile, you excited?” I pulled a face “I am but, I am going to be busy, so I want you all to look after my baby, please. Like I want to know my family are there for him because I see him being around for a long time. I mean come on, I have never forgotten him since. So please, all of you here. Please help me with him, please be there for him and please keep him entertained and just get to know him, he is a really nice guy but I need you all to just be nice” I feel like I have been ranting on so much “calm down Robyn, dang. We get it, you about to whoop our asses if we don’t” Rorrey said and he isn’t wrong, I will literally not forgive any of them “you ever think he may just want to be with you for fame? Just a question before you bite” taking a drink before I answered “right, so the way I know Chris is that he is hard headed, if he doesn’t want to do something he won’t. For him to come to New York that time was a lot for him, he has really changed since being locked up because the Chris I met, he was so fun loving and full of life and you know what, I have been seeing this a little. It’s coming out of him but it did change him, he was very doom and gloom but he wouldn’t go through the heartache, trust me. You may see it, we may go back and forth with things” I know my family worries.

I am a little tipsy, I say tipsy, but I am giddy “goodnight baby” Mel kissed my cheek, I cooed out “goodnight, I hope he is awake. I want some dick” Mel and I cackled together “bitch, go away” pushing open my bedroom door laughing, the lights are low, and that fire is on, I swear this nigga is about to annoy me. Closing the door behind me, I sighed out heavily seeing Chris wrapped up in the covers, he is asleep of course “of course he is” I said to myself, let me turn that fire off. I wanted sex but I will let him have that for tonight, it is the first day. Poking my lips out, he is so adorable. He has literally folded his clothes and placed them neatly on the couch I have in the bedroom, I expected him to be a mess, but he isn’t “my baby” I poked my lips out, walking around the bed. Grabbing the remote and turning off the fire, I need to text Chris because I may not be awake and he will, Noella said she will go for the walk with him so that will be nice. I want to wake him, but I can’t, just the peacefulness, he is at peace and so am I. Leaning down, pressing a kiss to his forehead, he was actually tired, I didn’t expect it. I thought he was joking but he is in a deep sleep, not even a flinch when I touched him, I am glad he is here.

I slept like a baby, I woke up just in time to see the sunrise over Hollywood, I got to see it on the balcony. It was amazing, a blunt and that, it was the best. I am so happy, Robyn’ bed felt amazing and then Robyn was snuggling me. I am happy, I don’t want to admit it because I get scared shit will go sideways for me but I am awake early, I came downstairs and poured myself some cereal and now I am ringing Barry, he just text me so I thought I would call him and get it over with “my nigga, you died on us in the group chat” placing the bowl on the table “yo, it’s crazy. I been busy with the in laws, and yeah. Barry, Robyn’ home is amazing, I promise you. I just watched the sunrise over Hollywood, and I feel really happy. I feel relieved I think” nodding my head, I am relieved “they treating you well over there? I said it to TJ, I was like I know Robyn spoiling our boy. Did her parents like you?” I don’t even know how to work the TV on this thing so I will leave it alone “good, her mother asked me a few things, but I told her everything, I said I have a record and I just let it out. Her brothers are cool, they are very nice to me. I am happy, this is really going to be my year, I feel it” Barry cheered “yes!” he spat “I think it’s good to leave your ego at home, it’s good to let go” I feel good within myself “I am glad to hear it, I will tell TJ how you are. He was asking and I said he will call me back when he can. I am happy to hear the family is treating you well, oh and you may or may not want to know but Seiko told TJ to fuck off and she will keep the child” of course she did “you know what, shit doesn’t bother me but tell TJ to just get some sort of custody and don’t play her game. Get a lawyer involved, I am at peace in my life, if I wasn’t then I would be reckless, I would be acting out, but I am happy. I got Robyn and I am in love bro” I grinned “I can tell, so you not angry at him? All forgiven” sitting back on the couch, I jumped seeing this lady, but I think she is the chef, I think so but she waved at me and I waved back, didn’t see her come “I am not, I don’t care for her, but I think he should do it properly. She plays too many games, just tell him he needs to keep her away from me and get a lawyer, get some rights” that is the best way forward with that bitch.

Nobody is awake so I will harass the chef, she seems nice “would you like something to eat?” she asked straight away, that was sweet of her “no thank you, I had cereal. What is your name?” I never asked “Debbie, and you are Chris. Nice to meet you” she seems super busy “likewise, are you always around?” she laughed, I mean was it funny “I am with Rihanna all day every day, I go wherever she goes. I am preparing breakfast for the family” letting out an oh “that is dope, you need help?” I asked “awww no, this is my job. You can take seat if you like?” nodding my head, making my way over to the bar stool “what is it like to be hanging with famous people? Do you think wow?” she is a good person to ask “sometimes, but you get used to it. Hollywood can be a hard place, it can suck you in but if you remain humble and have a good circle, that will never happen. Rihanna is the best; she is a friend to me. She never treats me like a worker but it’s my job to cook for her, but she lets me be comfortable here” nodding my head “morning!” looking over at Noella “hey” I smiled “morning girl, you all ready?” Debbie said “yes, and ready for our walk. I am going to have something small to eat and we can go” she seems in a good mood.

The sun is really blazing down on me, looking up squinting my eyes “let’s go, I really want a Slurpee, I am craving one. I don’t care if it’s early but there is a seven eleven, I would say close but it’s a walk. You are paying though” I chuckled “wow, I didn’t expect me to be paying but thank you. For coming with me, it’s crazy how much greenery is around this home, lot of privacy” placing my hands behind my back as we walked the long drive, there is a long ass drive down to get to Robyn’ place “yes she wanted that, I think the first thing she thought of was privacy. Funny though because Robyn is fine with living hotel to hotel so when she said she is buying this home, mind you it cost twelve million we was shocked, then she called us over to meet you and see the home” I sniggered “man” I laughed to myself “I think it’s my fault, so I kept teasing Robyn. Well not teasing but I kept saying you have no home, where do you want me to stay? Why do you want me to come so that may have been the reason why, my bad” I am an ass at times “don’t be, I think she needed a base. She needs a home; she works so hard. At times I am telling to calm down, but she doesn’t. If you can help her with calming down, then good. I always knew she was destined to be something” nodding my head in agreement “I did too, she loved singing. I would always be her backing singer, I mean that is between me and Robyn, but it was all jokes, but we would be just chilling and singing. Mariah Carey of course” I am such a nerd “when Robyn would call she would say she met a boy, but are you ok with going public?” I blew out air “if I wasn’t serious with Robyn I wouldn’t do it, I know shit will be wild, so you know I am real as fuck. I don’t want any of you to think I am with her for money, it was never that, I know Robyn. Robyn is the woman I can openly say I love but, I need to get used to Rihanna, niggas lusting over her” putting my head down “and they do that, a lot” Noella spat, she isn’t holding back, she knows how these niggas are.

Walking out of seven eleven, I did pay for her Slurpee, I ain’t like that “thank you” she spat as I left the store, looking up with my slurpee in hand. Noella held her slurpee up to her phone poking her lips out “she made a nigga pay” I said in the camera walking by her, she giggled. Turning to her “Robyn won’t be happy you are posting that?” Noella shrugged “I am cropping you out of it” she winked “they won’t know but thank you. For paying anyways, long walk huh? You think we can make it walking back?” I sighed out “uhhh I don’t think so” that was a long walk here “so you going to book a uber?” I chuckled “me!? Again, I swear you costing me” grabbing my phone from my pocket as I turned around walking off slowly, Robyn has text me back. I sent her a morning text because I wouldn’t be there, tapping on her message as I walked off slowly.

Robyn: I love YOU so so so much! You made my morning with that

I grinned tapping on my Uber app “woah!” Noella said behind me, looking behind me “your tee dropped out of your back pocket” letting out on oh “thank you ma’am” taking my tee from her, placing my shoulder, I am tired after the walk and hot too. Drinking from the Slurpee walking slowly “excuse me” looking up from my phone, oh Cali girls are built different “do you know how to get to the boulevard?” she is asking me, her friends are giggling so this is a ploy. Moving the Slurpee back “no ma’am, I am not from around here” she looked me up and down “oh, I can see. You sound very country?” I laughed “Virginia” I answered “I know you birds know where you going? The hell you speaking to him for?” Noella came up from behind me, stepping to the side “oh you got a pregnant girl, oh yeah I am going” Noella side eyed them “move then” she kissed her teeth “them birds know where, they are trying it, anyways. Book this Uber, I am tired” nodding my head, Noella told then. She ran off, but Cali girls are built nice I would say so myself.

I fell onto the couch “you tired!? You asked for a morning walk and now you tired” I groaned out as I laid out, I am tired “I didn’t expect it to be that long, for a pregnant lady you are healthy” she really “well now I have a new baby daddy” I laughed at what happened outside the store, hilarious they though that “no hug, or hi!?” looking at Robyn “I am tired” I grumbled, Robyn pushed my legs down “get up, come” she waved me over “why?” I pulled a face holding my hands up, Robyn leaned down connecting her hands in mine “because I want to show you something, come” she pecked my lips “for me” I sighed out “fine, can you massage my feet” Robyn cackled “you wish, with your sweaty ass feet, come. I am waiting in the dining room” I guess I better get up “if she comes back here she going to grab your ear and drag you up” Noella has got a point, getting up from the couch. Pulling my top down as it rode up “let me see what she wants to show you, we do things as a family now” rubbing my eye as I dragged my feet walking towards the dining room “even sexy time?” I questioned “nigga please” I chuckled, my eyes is so itchy right now “annoying” I mumbled to myself, walking into the dining room “what’s up babe?” I stopped seeing everyone here “uh, did I do something?” this is awkward “son son is waiting for you, go and sit there. It’s waiting” Robyn pointed out “uh, why is everyone here?” I feel nervous now “and recording?” I pointed at Mel “nigga will you hurry up, please” Robyn stomped over to me “you are so hard headed” she grabbed my arm and pulled me along “did I do something?” I am concerned that I did.

I feel nervous now “has Robyn told y’all about this bear?” this is so cringey, she is out here telling everyone this “you gave my baby a bear of your hoodie” ok she has really told her mother this, looking up at Robyn “what is this?” I pointed “son, son has come bringing you a gift in the envelope he is holding” my cheeks are flushed, looking up at Tina as she took a picture of me “you look so scared” she is right I am “are these deeds?” grabbing the black envelope, I sighed out not knowing what to really expect “remember when I spoke to you last night, that this is part of your birthday? Well here you are, just look” Robyn placed her hand on my back, nodding my head as I ripped open the envelope “I am scared, y’all scaring me not going to lie” looking into the envelope “is these tickets? Is it for the tour” pulling them out both out, she is giving me tickets to her tour now. Squinting my eyes reading it “LA Lakers and New York Knicks” scanning the ticket “courtside!?” I shouted looking up at Robyn “happy early birthday?” she said, I gasped “no way” I shot up, she has got me courtside to the Lakers game “you being real?” I said, she nodded her head. Looking down at the ticket’s “man” placing the tickets on the table turning around “oh man” placing my hands over my face, I am in shock. Placing my hand over my chest as I turned to her “I know you love Lakers” I am in shock “you got a nigga speechless, Lakers? Courtside!?” my mind is blown “I love you so much!” I spat, walking to her as I hugged her “thank you!” I spat, I feel emotional “I am having to hold back tears, nobody has done this for me” kissing her shoulder, moving back from the hug “you and sis about to be public at the Lakers game!” Rorrey spat, I am shook. He dapped me, looking at the tickets on the table “fuck! I am really going to see the Lakers play!?” I spat; I am in shock. I wasn’t expecting that at all, she got me good “man, you got me good. I don’t deserve this, we going tonight?” I can’t believe it; I am shook.

[faakeid]

Ji posts on his Instagram basically about his work and family. But there are some posts that are supposed to be indirectly about Ks. You can put which post you think was about Ks. What if these posts are random or did something happen and he wanted to give an "answer".

Ah yes yes. There are some of that during the time he had ig (for real). Before compilating the occasions tho, it’s important to notice that: 1) not all moments will be indirect kd, but things out of his family/work portfolio he exposed on is ig and it’s important to take note and 2) he knows ig is a job tool for his solo pictorials/ex0 (and a way to contact fans too ofc). He first created  kimkaaaaaa acc and made fans wild. In the end, tho, he just did it to promote Exo’dus album and made a fuss to delete that acc lmao.

The first one (source) to point out was a “direct” kd. JI interacts a lot on the social media and likes posts related to himself/the group. And in July 2018 he liked this pic, which ks is the first to appear. Is it too far fetched to think he liked this group of pics bc was appearing first? rethorical question, don’t reply

Before passing to the next posts, just would like to let his reply to a fan in one of his pictures (source):

Having this in mind, let’s move on.

One post that peaked fans curiosity was this one below:

Coincidentially or not, it was posted after some fans spammed “i see you k41s00″ on his ig (more about what happened here). And for those who don’t know, this ghost name is Michelin a pneumatic manufacturer brand. Also, as a coincidence, it’s the same name of the list of restaurants KS likes to eat (the most famous and well received restaurants, Michelin list).

Ok, so this picture grabbed some fan’s attention because of it’s content: a picture of a person in a BDSM context. It was taken during an exposition dedicated to this artist that happened in NY with the title: “Implicit Tensions: Mapplethorpe Now”. According to guggenheim museum website,  Robert Mapplethorpe is well known for “images that deliberately transgressed social mores and for the censorship debates that transformed him into a symbol of the culture wars in the late 1980s and early 1990s. In the ensuing decades, artists and critics have grappled with Mapplethorpe’s legacy, raising questions about the agency of the photographic subject and interrogating his representations of homoerotic desire, the black male nude, and the female figure.” (source)

The first part of the exposition (which lasted since January 25 until July 10, 2019) “featured highlights from the Guggenheim’s in-depth Mapplethorpe holdings, including early Polaroids, collages, and mixed-media constructions; iconic, classicizing photographs of male and female nudes; floral still lifes; portraits of artists, celebrities, and acquaintances; explicit depictions of New York’s underground S&M scene; and searingly honest self-portraits.”

Some people argued that “JI took those picture without knowing the history behind the photographer” and etc, but I disagree. I went to lots of museums and if I learned something is that people are mostly inclined to take (and post) pictures of art of artists they admire or that match their ideals (or because they’re famous, like Monalisa). Artists like Leonardo da Vinci, Dali, Van Gogh, Magritte, Goya and many others inspire millions because of who they were during their time on earth and the message they passed. And  Mapplethorpe had an interesting life story. Maybe polemic, but still intriguing and his photographs really showed that. So, to post pictures of his work without know the history behind it? It doesn’t make any sense.

It’s also easy to conclude JI enjoys his work because he took a set of other pictures involving this specific artist, as you can see below

Of course it doesn’t mean to affirm that JI’s into BDSM in his private life, but the theme was used in Mapplethorpe’s work to give visibility of gay community decades ago. And those themes end getting a different connotation when creating art.

TL;DR: JI is not ur typical streighty.

So, there were some correlations with kd in those pics JI posted while he was in London, like a sort of crypit message? The black prince would mean KS because of his role in 100 days + his love for black and the lips and heart as a more obvious sign (really even nowadays there’s a fight between kd and jk shippers bc of the heart pic, it’s vomit indulcing).

BONUS:

1. The live JI recorded with M00nkyu at the Han River. I know, it doesn’t have anything with kd, but people were implying he was homophobic because of his reaction (since that destination is a nice place to couples walk around);

2. JI in PCY’s live saying the fact ji and ks bdays were so close was “fate” (source)

3. Some pics PCY posted with KD on his ig~

4. Even silence can be a reply as well (the coincidence concerning JI’s ig disappearance after KS enlistment news broke out and just returning during expl0ration concert.)

5. There’s a comment relating an ufo post JI made with kd that, at least for complementary purposes, it’s worthy to mention.

[argylemnwrites]

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment - Chapter 13

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Canon Divergent from Book 2, Chapter 15)

Word Count: ~4800

Rating: R (adult language - like too many f-bombs to count, here)

Summary: Drake tries to process his most recent decisions in regards to Liam and Riley, but some of the palace guests and residents make that difficult.

Author’s Note: So, yeah. I’m back at this story. I never intended to take so long between chapters, but this content here is basically the reason I didn’t just write Chapter 1 as a one shot, but instead turned it into an actual fic. Well, it turns out getting this all out of my head and into words was a real struggle. I could keep playing around and tweaking this indefinitely, but y’all have been patient enough, so without further ado, let’s get back into things here. We last left Riley leaving Cordonia to return to NYC while Drake stayed for Liam. Meanwhile, Olivia had just discovered that her aunt was involved in the recent attacks. This picks up that same afternoon.

This series diverges from TRR canon, where instead of waiting to discuss his relationship with Riley until their last night in NYC, leaving her a note while Liam is proposing to her, Drake tackles this topic as soon as possible after Tariq makes his statement and Riley’s name is cleared. To catch up on this series, you can find the previous chapters in my masterlist (link is located in my bio).

The Cordonian royal palace had a total of six different lounges, but only one of them was truly a private lounge, tucked away in a back corridor of the royal family’s residential wing. It had been the location of many nights of drinks and cards over the years. The group in attendance had varied, starting with Leo and Bertrand years and years ago. Tariq and Rashad both would drop in if they were in the capital. And more recently, Maxwell had hustled Drake out of more money than he cared to admit over hands of poker. But really, the only constants at these private card games had been Liam and Drake himself. It was strange to sit there now, alone in the middle of the afternoon. But Drake had wanted a drink and a smoke, and it was the only place in the palace where he would find both whiskey and an ashtray and be likely to be left alone.

Drake didn’t know how he felt, exactly. Not that he was ever great at putting his feelings into words, but today was even harder than usual. He didn’t really feel sad. More empty. Hollow.

He took the last drag from his cigarette as he kept rooting through the bar until he found the bottle of Yamazaki 18 tucked behind several other bottles of scotch and whiskey. If there was ever a day that warranted the good stuff, today was that day. Drake poured himself a double on the rocks before carrying his glass and the ashtray over to one of the armchairs by the fireplace. He knew he was wallowing, but he figured he’d earned it. Today just plain sucked.

The drive back from the airport had felt kind of covered in this sort of surreal haze. Had he really just let her get on a plane and leave? But what else could he have done? He had to stay. For Liam. And he couldn’t ask her just to hang around while he dealt with all that. It wasn’t fair to her. She, unlike him, actually had a life in New York. Asking her to abandon all of that just to sit around as some sort of fucking emotional comfort for him was selfish.

And truth be told, her being around would probably be counterproductive. It seemed like the three of them being in the same room was just a recipe for awkwardness. If Drake was actually going to be there for Liam, Riley’s presence would not make things easier. Even though Liam would never say anything, it was clear to anyone with half a brain that seeing him and Riley together was just adding stress. That he wasn’t coping with their relationship as much as he wanted to project that he was. And Drake certainly wasn’t going to stick around just to throw his happiness in Liam’s face. That was the opposite of his goal.

Still, watching her walk away from him at the airport had torn something deep inside him. It felt wrong, and he missed her already. God, he was a pathetic mess. He took a sip of his whiskey before lighting up another cigarette, but was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open.

It was Leo. Of course he would be the only other person at the palace looking for a stiff drink well before cocktail hour. He strolled in, whistling to himself until he caught sight of Drake, his eyebrows shooting up comically.

“Hey, what are you still doing here? I thought your flight was today.” he asked after a moment, continuing over to the bar and grabbing the bottle of whiskey Drake had left out.

“Yeah, well… I decided to stick around for a while.”

Leo looked up from the bar, seeming to stare at Drake with those words. “You’re here by yourself?”

Drake swallowed roughly, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray’s edge. “Yeah, Liu flew out.”

The only sound was that of a glass being set on the bar and the splash of liquid as Leo poured himself a couple fingers of the whiskey. He took a sip of his drink before he stepped around the bar, raising his glass toward Drake is if in a toast. “I can’t say I’m not a little relieved.”

Drake took a drag off his cigarette, trying to gauge how pissed that should be making him. Leo didn’t always think things through fully, so he probably didn’t mean much by his statement. Still, for him to be the one to give him shit about sticking around? Well, it was pretty damn annoying.

After another sip of his drink, Leo chuckled as he continued, “I thought I was going to have to fly out and track you down again for a moment, there.”

Okay, maybe Leo did mean something. Drake bit his lip, trying to control his temper. He knew he was already on edge, and at the end of the day, Leo really wasn’t worth it. But his patience was tested as Leo continued, “I mean, I get it, the whole ‘following some girl halfway across the world’ thing, but I’m glad you finally came to your senses.”

“My senses?”

“Well, yeah. I know, chasing skirts is fun and all, but at the end of the day, you gotta admit that you belong here, right?”

Drake swallowed, trying to find his words before he spoke. He was trying to control his temper, he really was. But today had sucked enough without having to listen to Leo spout this bullshit.

“I mean, you did have me worried for a minute there. That pussy must be truly spectacular for both you and him to lose your minds over it.”

Drake heard a loud rushing in his ears and realized he as out of his chair and striding over to Leo before he could even think about what he was doing. Leo’s eyes widened and he maneuvered himself behind the bar, the fear evident in his eyes.

“Relax, man. I didn’t mean anything, really. I’m sure she’s a great woman. All I was trying to say is that I’m glad you’ll be here for him.”

“Right, because otherwise you might have to act like his actual brother, not just some drinking buddy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Leo. You’re not gonna stand there and act like you’ve been the brother he deserves, are you?”

Leo scowled, taking a long drink from his glass before he responded, “Just add it to the list. One more way that Leo is a fuckup who could never measure up to his perfect, saintly little brother.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” Drake groaned, rolling his eyes. “Nothing you can say will ever make me feel sorry for your irresponsible, hypocritical, entitled ass.”

“You have no idea what the pressure is like! You have never had to carry that weight, knowing you would never be able to-”

“I’m not talking about your abdication, Leo!” Drake yelled, smacking his hand down against the top of the bar. “That’s a whole other thing, and I don’t really want to get into right now. I’m talking about the fact that you have been a shitty brother to him since day one. And guess who always had to be there to pick up the slack?”

“Ah, yes. Drake Walker - a modern-day martyr. Your life has been sooo difficult, what with the living rent-free at a palace, drinking top shelf whiskey, going horseback riding on private trails whenever you wanted. Tell me again of the great woes and tribulations that were thrust upon you because of your burdensome friendship with His Majesty. I know he asked so much of you.”

“Classic Leo, deflect away any real criticism. Nothing is ever your fault, is it? Your father expected too much. The world just didn’t understand you. You weren’t cut out for this life. It’s your own fucking greatest hits album, and I’m so goddamn sick of it. But you know what? Play the fucking victim. Tell me again how fucking hard your privileged little life is. I honestly don’t give a shit. But I’m not gonna stand here and listen to your bullshit tales of how I was somehow the one who mistreated Liam.”

“Let’s see - you fucked the woman he loved and left him alone while terrorists tried to kill him. Am I leaving out any other recent developments?”

“Are we just gonna pretend that the first 28 years of his life didn’t happen? Because last time I checked, you haven’t exactly been some beacon of brotherly support. And rich of you to give me shit for choosing one woman to be with when your whole life has been nothing but a string of girls you claimed were different that all the ones who came before. First there was Charlize, then Fiona, or did Katrina come before her? Then Gigi, and that redhead whose name I never did find out, then-”

“Liam wasn’t in love with any of them. Besides, it’s not like you were some celibate monk all those years.”

“Yet someone I was able to find a way to sleep with women and be there for Liam. You on the other hand, were always just a bit too busy to find time to call and check in.”

“I love my brother, and I tried to be there for him. I’m sorry if my best isn’t up to the impeccable Walker standards,” Leo sneered, finishing his drink and slamming his glass down on the bar.

“You tried? Really? Leo, you took a fucking private jet and dragged me away from my life because you couldn’t handle his actual emotions! Then you dumped the crown on him without a backwards glance! I was always the one who had to clean up the mess!”

Leo opened his mouth, undoubtedly ready to defend himself, but the door to the lounge swung open, stopping the two men in their tracks. There was Liam, a scowl etched across his face, “I thought it might be best to inform you that approximately half the palace can hear you right now.”

Drake swallowed roughly, trying to control the anger rolling off him in waves. Fucking Leo. At least he had the decency to look guilty, dropping his eyes to the bartop and taking a deep breath before he spoke again.

“How much did you hear, Liam?”

“More than enough, Leo. Would you mind giving me a moment with Drake?”

“I should have known you’d take his side.”

“You and I will talk later. Right now, I need to speak to Drake.”

Leo stared at Liam for just a second before shaking his head and brushing past him on his way out the door. Drake waited until his footsteps trailed off before he spoke.

“If you had heard some of the shit he was saying, Liam, you-”

“I did hear ‘some of the shit’ he said. I, along with numerous palace employees, heard many things that both of you said. That really isn’t important at the moment. What I’m most interested in is your statement that he dragged you away from your life.”

“Liam, come on. Let’s not do this.”

“Do what, exactly? I am merely asking you to clarify the circumstances under which my brother-”

“Cut the diplomatic bullshit. If you’re going to fight with me, don’t talk to me like I’m some foreign dignitary.”

Liam just shook his head, “I’m not trying to fight with you, Drake. I didn’t even know you were still in the country, so imagine my surprise to hear you and my brother with raised voices, airing what seems to be years of personal grievances loudly enough for all the staff to hear. I’m simply trying to figure out what set both of you off. Leo isn’t usually one who angers like that, so it strikes me that this might be serious.”

“Oh, so you’re saying I'm the one who flies off the handle? The hot-headed commoner can’t control his temper, huh?”

Liam’s eyes widened and he took a beat before he continued, “What the hell is going on with you, Drake? I’m not even sure why you are here, but you seem determined to be furious with someone right now. Why don’t you just take a deep breath and try and-”

“Don’t you dare try to tell me to calm down. Don’t fucking placate me just to fucking keep the peace. I’m not some foreign diplomat, Liam. I’m supposed to be your friend. So don’t fucking treat me like we’re in the midst of a treaty negotiation.”

Liam sighed heavily. “Drake, all I want to do is figure out what is bothering you. I care about you, and I know whatever transpired between you and Leo-”

“Cut the bullshit; you came in here with a purpose. You had a question for me.”

“That’s not important right now. Hearing the way you are getting upset, seeing you here at all, I just-”

“Ask me your goddamn question, Liam.”

Liam hesitated for just a moment. He was clearly trying to gauge whether Drake was past the point of no return here, some part of Drake’s mind could sense that fact. But right now, his blood was pumping. His frustrations from the past few weeks had boiled over, and he was pissed. At Leo. At his life. At himself. And Liam must have realized that, because he decided to feed the beast, knowing there was no other way for Drake to have any sort of rational discussion if he didn’t do him the courtesy of granting him this. 

“What did you mean when you said Leo dragged you away from your life?”

“Did you really never figure out how I was able to afford a last minute flight to Cordonia when I was a broke university student?”

“Leo bought you your ticket back?”

Drake let out a harsh chuckle. “Try Leo fucking showed up on campus, took me in a towncar to a private airplane hanger, and put me on the fucking royal jet.”

A range of emotions rolled rapidly across Liam’s face. Confusion. Shock. Deliberation. But finally, a firm hardness settled into his eyes. Liam was in full-on negotiator mode. It wasn’t a role he had to play often, but when he did, it was always a sight to see. He was poised and calculated and sure. It was great to watch him corner people who mistook his kindness and compassion for weakness. Or at least, Drake had always reveled in it before, when it was directed at presumptuous foreign leaders or entitled and under-prepared nobles. He’d never felt it directed at him. 

“So would it be fair to say that it was out of obligation, not friendship, that you returned to Cordonia?”

“No, I came back because I cared about you and I was worried about you.”

“But you never would have returned if it wasn’t made clear to you that I was struggling to cope. You weren’t worried about me. Leo, the fucking flakiest man on the planet, was worried about me. You just served your role. Well, consider you obligation to me over.”

“Liam, stop it!” Drake tried to cut it, but Liam was far from finished, his words piercing through the room like a dagger.

 “I now understand what you meant about you being the one who had to clean up the mess. I was just some liability punted from Leo to you.”

“Come on, that’s not-.”

“No, you ‘come on,’ Drake. It was obviously in reference to me. In what ways was I such a burden to you? In what ways did I hold you back from your real life?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just-”

“How did you mean it Drake? Anyway I can fathom you meaning it undercuts years of friendship, does it not?”

“No, it doesn’t! This is a two-way street, Liam. I know for a fact that I’ve been a burden to you at some points, too.”

Liam paused, swallowing roughly before he continued. “I never saw it that way. I was grateful to be there for you, someone I consider to be family. You were never a burden to me.”

Drake sighed, “I’ve never been as optimistic as you. I’m sorry that my phrasing is harsh, but you know me. I’m not saying that your friendship is some drain on me. But it is a fact that I had to walk away from some things after that assassination attempt. And I don’t regret doing it; but yeah, I left some things behind.”

“Are you sure you don’t regret it? Because listening to you now, it certainly seems like you hold some resentment there, if it still affects you years after the fact.” 

Drake rubbed his face. How had this spiraled into some discussion of his decision years ago? “Look, you needed me then. Everything else kind of fell by the wayside.”

“I may have appreciated your return, but I certainly didn’t need you. You didn’t even realize that I was struggling. I would have been perfectly able of coping on my own.”

Liam paced away from Drake at that, trying to put some distance between them. Honestly, it somehow pissed Drake off even more. This was fucking revisionist history bullshit, that Leo was some intuitive brother, a saint who tracked down a comfort for Liam out of the goodness of his heart, not some responsibility-phobic asshole who booked it the second things get hard.

“Liam, I don’t know whether you needed me or not. But the fact is having me here was helpful, so I stayed. Not just because Leo asked, but because I cared more about your struggles than my own.”

“But I never asked you to do that! And now, years after the fact, you somehow still find a way to hold that against me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Liam spun around and stalked over towards Drake. He had a burning look in his eyes, but he kept clenching and unclenching his fists, as if he were trying to hold back this raging fire of anger and pain inside of him.

“I always looked past the fact that you were envious of me, understanding that some of the privileges of my station might appear to outweigh the burdens from an outside perspective. But now, hearing all of this, I just wonder if…” Liam trailed off, seeming to gain control of himself once again before he continued speaking. “Nevermind, it’s not important.”

“No, go on and say it.” The anger churning inside Drake wanted, no needed, to hear whatever thought Liam had apparently had decided was worth censoring from him, the one person he was never supposed to have to censor himself around.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“That’s fucking infuriating. You started the thought; you might as well finish it.”

Liam closed his eyes briefly before opening them and staring Drake down. “Fine. I wonder if you didn’t pursue Riley as a way to get back at me.”

Drake paused for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around the absolute insanity he was hearing. “What the fuck, Liam?”

“Maybe not consciously, but yes, since you clearly have some sort of resentment you hold against me, I just have to wonder if you maybe you went after her because you knew how much I liked her.”

“Went after her- God, do you really think so little of me that you think I toyed around with some poor woman just as part of some misguided revenge against you? I don’t even know how to respond to that, Liam. It’s so fucking insulting.”

Liam dropped his gaze at Drake’s statement, having the good grace at least to realize that statement was pretty horrible, but Drake felt more and more words coming up. It seemed like once he and Liam started down this road, he just couldn’t stop the thoughts from flowing out, unchecked and without pause.

“And not just to me. She is a grown ass adult who is perfectly capable of making up her own mind about her own relationships. It’s not like she just sat around, staring off into space, waiting for one of us to come along and convince her to be with us.”

“Stop putting words in my mouth, Drake. It isn’t fair and you know it. I have never treated her with anything but the utmost respect and hospitality.”

“That’s how you treat a distant relative who needs a place to stay for a few days. It’s not how you treat someone you want to marry!”

“Well, I don’t think open disdain is the best way to treat a romantic partner, either.”

Drake knew it was an earned dig. After all, he hadn’t exactly held back with his early cruelty towards Riley when speaking with Liam all those months ago. But to have his first impressions thrown in his face, when he had eaten so much crow and opened up to the woman in question so much? When Liam seemed to be stuck on his own first impressions of Riley? It just pissed him off all over again.

“I at least always treated her as an equal. I didn’t put her on some impossible pedestal she was bound to crash from.”

“I did everything in my power to show a woman that I was falling for her, that I adored her, and somehow that is a problem? I respected her roots and her background with kindness and gentleness. I tried to arrange ways to make her feel comfortable in a new country. I researched how to woo someone who had never been part of the nobility. I did everything I could think of to welcome her into this world. I courted her the best way I knew. In fact, I showed her far more affection than any of the other women here for me, even though it weighed on me that I wasn’t treating the rest of them fairly. Explain to me, Drake, how that degree of romance is somehow less desirable than sarcasm and condescension.” 

“You are so fucking blinded by your cloud of royal entitlement, and you can’t even fucking see it. ‘Here for you?’ News flash, Liam - Hana and Maxwell figured it that we were together. I’m pretty sure Bertrand did as well. Hell, my sister claims she knew something was going on between us, and she met Liu for all of an hour. Why is it that you are the only one who didn’t see that something was going on between us?”

Liam opened his mouth to retort, but Drake kept pushing, “I’ll tell you why - you like to think you’re this down to earth royal, but the fact of the matter is, you could never envision a woman willingly choosing to be with me when she had the option to be with you. And maybe I’ve been a shit friend to you in some ways, but guess what? That makes you a pretty shit friend, too. Because you’re willing to sit here and imply that my love is not real, just some petty revenge because you were more important than I could ever be. And you know what? It’s bullshit.” 

“Tell me, Drake - what is the appropriate response in your mind when you find out the woman you were pursuing was sleeping with your best friend and neither one of them saw fit to clue you in?”

“She tried to clue you in. Sure, she could have been more blunt, I guess. But did you really not notice that she stopped sneaking away to meet up for all of your little secret rendezvous? Or how about the fact that she stopped kissing you? But you kept after her. Because of course she was into you. What woman wouldn’t be? Who would choose to be with the lowly commoner instead of the handsome king?”

“Instead of playing the victim here, you could at least treat me with enough respect to acknowledge that you, while claiming to be my best friend, lied to me and let me look like a fool. You could have saved me a lot of pain and heartache. You made the conscious decision not to, and yet you have the gall to stand here and act like I was the one in the wrong.”

Drake glanced away, taking a swig from his glass, but unfortunately it was empty. He couldn’t even get a little distraction as Liam let him have it.

“You always see the worst in people Drake. You claim they see you as less than, that you are somehow treated as worse than others around you based simply on the fact that you were born a commoner. But you never take ownership of your own actions. You expect to be treated with respect when earning your respect is a monumental task that almost no one could ever hope to achieve. You write people off simply for having the misfortune of being born to a different social class, not acknowledging that they have as much control over their heritage as you do over yours. And you expect to be treated with dignity without offering any in return. 

“And I tolerated it, because I knew that there were some people that did treat you as second class, and because you always respected me enough to be one of the few people in my life who granted me complete honesty. But now, that is called into question, because you lied to me, repeatedly. And I have to wonder if you ever cared for me, how you could be so callous in the way you treated me in all of this?”

The question hung in the air, sitting there. It smothered the lounge in thick layer of suspense, neither man able to move forward and speak, yet at the same time unable to look away from each other. Drake felt equal parts guilty and damaged. It seemed like for every critique he’d had of Liam, Liam had his own to hurl right back. Neither one of them held the high ground here. They both were metaphorically beaten and bruised. Eventually, a sharp knock on the door broke the tense silence. After a few more seconds of staring at each other, Liam finally spoke.

“Come in.”

“Of fucking course,” thought Drake. Who else would be here but Olivia fucking Nevrakis? 

“Your assistant told me I might find you here, but he looked awfully uncomfortable about that fact. Did he send me to interrupt a lover’s quarrel?”

Drake refused to dignify her with a response, but the complete silence from both of them clearly spoke volumes. Olivia rolled her eyes slightly before she spoke again.

“As much as I would like to stay for the inevitable brawl and see who wins this, I have something to discuss with His Majesty that’s rather time sensitive. Liam, do you mind?”

Liam turned to face Olivia, but even in profile, Drake could sense him plastering on his diplomatic mask once again. “Of course, Lady Olivia. Let’s head to my office.”

And without a backward glance, he was off, falling in stride with Olivia as the two of them exited the room. As soon as the lounge door swung shut, Drake sank into the closest chair, letting out a long sigh. He felt like he had just thrown up, but in that way when you’ve been nauseous all day from a stomach flu, and then when you finally puke, you somehow feel awful but somehow better all at the same time. 

Telling Liam all these thoughts he’d kept to himself. Telling him the thoughts he didn’t even realize he’d been keeping to himself. Well, it was damn cathartic. To have it all out in the open felt like a relief. Even if Liam had his own issues to throw out there. Hell maybe because Liam had his own issues with him. Finally, they were talking. Really talking, not just beating around the apple tree. And that had to be progress, right?

Sure, as the adrenaline from the fight wore off, some of Liam’s barbs sunk in. And boy, did they sting. But at the end of the day, Drake somehow felt that this was better than their stilted half conversations and awkward small talk. At least this was real. And quite frankly, today kind of felt like rock bottom. That meant things could only improve from here. Drake just had to figure out how.

@dcbbw @mfackenthal @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley–walker @thequeenofcronuts @notoriouscs @butindeed @thesumofmychoices @cosigottahavefaith @thequeenchoices @katedrakeohd @feartheendlesssummer   @sirbeepsalot @ladyangel70 @ao719  @ooo-barff-ooo @octobereighth @sunnyxdazed

  @wickedgypsymoon

@carabeth

[hlupdate]

A hand­shake can quell polit­i­cal unrest and sti­fle impend­ing war. It can, with a bit of spit, val­i­date a gentleman’s agree­ment, end a years-long roman­tic rela­tion­ship or send a young heart rac­ing. But it all depends on the two par­ties involved.

Daisy, 21, felt a seis­mic jolt when Har­ry Styles, 25, wear­ing a striped jumper and rings on three of his five fin­gers, clutched her hand two days after this year’s Met Gala in New York, when she served him gela­to at the shop where she worked.

“He decid­ed on a small mint choco­late gela­to and I made his and the one for his friend and I said, ​‘Can I just say I absolute­ly loved your Met Gala look’ and he said ​‘Thank you very much! What’s your name?’ And I said, ​‘Daisy’ AND HE FUCK­ING EXTEND­ED HISHAND AND REACHED TO SHAKE MY HAND AND I ACTU­AL­LY FUCK­INGSHOOK HIS HAND WHAT THE FUCK,” she wrote on Insta­gram after The Shak­en­ing. ​“Like I didn’t even say any­thing to gas him up besides ​‘I loved your met gala look’ and his fine ass went and shook my hand! WHAT A BEAU­TI­FUL FUCK­ING HUMAN BEINGTHAT HE IS GOD BLESS HIM AND I HOPE HW [sic] LIVES FOREVER.”

For Har­ry Styles, a hand­shake can be a roman­tic ges­ture, con­jur­ing a potent rev­er­ence in its recip­i­ent, like the time he met Gucci’s cre­ative direc­tor Alessan­dro Michele. ​“He was as attrac­tive as James Dean and as per­sua­sive as Gre­ta Gar­bo. He was like a Luchi­no Vis­con­ti char­ac­ter, like an Apol­lo: at the same time sexy as a woman, as a kid, as a man,” Michele told me, has­ten­ing to add: ​“Of course, Har­ry is not aware of this.”

No, Styles has no idea the pow­er he wields. In per­son, he’s tow­er­ing, like some­one who is not that much taller but whose rep­u­ta­tion adds four inch­es. Styles has a seda­tive bari­tone, spo­ken in a rum­my north­ern Eng­lish accent, that tum­bles out so slow­ly you for­get the name of your first born, a swag­ger that has been nursed and per­fect­ed in myth­i­cal places with names like Pais­ley Park, or Abbey Road, or Grace­land. Makes com­plete sense that he would be up for the role of Elvis Pres­ley in Baz Luhrmann’s upcom­ing biopic. He was primed, nay, born to shake his hips, all but one but­ton on his shirt cling­ing for dear life around his tor­so. Then the part was award­ed to anoth­er actor, Austin Butler.

“[Elvis] was such an icon for me grow­ing up,” Styles tells me. ​“There was some­thing almost sacred about him, almost like I didn’t want to touch him. Then I end­ed up get­ting into [his life] a bit and I wasn’t dis­ap­point­ed,” he adds of his ini­tial research and prepa­ra­tions to play The King. He seems relaxed about los­ing the part to But­ler. ​“I feel like if I’m not the right per­son for the thing, then it’s best for both of us that I don’t do it, you know?”

Styles released his self-titled debut solo album in May 2017. The boy­band grad was clear­ly unin­ter­est­ed in hol­low­ing out the charts with more for­mu­la­ic meme pop. Instead, to the sur­prise of many, he dug his heels into retro-fetishist West Coast ​’70s rock. Some of the One Direc­tion fan-hordes might have been con­fused, but no mat­ter: Har­ry Styles sold one mil­lion copies.

Despite its com­mer­cial and crit­i­cal suc­cess, he didn’t tour the album right away. He want­ed to act in the Christo­pher Nolan film Dunkirk. To his cred­it, his por­tray­al of a British sol­dier cow­er­ing in a moored boat on the French beach­es as the Nazis advanced wasn’t skew­ered in the press like the movie debuts of, say, Madon­na or Justin Tim­ber­lake. Per­haps he was fol­low­ing advice giv­en by Elton John, who had urged him to diver­si­fy. ​“He was bril­liant in Dunkirk, which took a lot of peo­ple by sur­prise,” John writes in an email. ​“I love how he takes chances and risks.” Act­ing, unlike music, is a release for Styles; it’s the one time he can be not himself.

“Why do I want to act? It’s so dif­fer­ent to music for me,” he says, sud­den­ly ani­mat­ed. ​“They’re almost oppo­site for me. Music, you try and put so much of your­self into it; act­ing, you’re try­ing to total­ly dis­ap­pear in who­ev­er you’re being.”

Fol­low­ing the news that he missed out on Pres­ley, his name was float­ed for the role of Prince Eric in Disney’s live-action remake of The Lit­tle Mer­maid. How­ev­er, fans will have to wait a bit longer to see Styles on the big screen as that idea, too, has sunk. He won’t be The King or the Prince. ​“It was dis­cussed,” he acknow­ledges before swift­ly chang­ing the sub­ject. ​“I want to put music out and focus on that for a while. But every­one involved in it was amaz­ing, so I think it’s going to be great. I’ll enjoy watch­ing it, I’m sure.”

The new album is wrapped and the sin­gle is decid­ed upon. ​“It’s not like his last album,” his friend, rock ​‘n’ roll leg­end Ste­vie Nicks, told me recent­ly over the phone. ​“It’s not like any­thing One Direc­tion ever did. It’s pure Har­ry, as Har­ry would say. He’s made a very dif­fer­ent record and it’s spectacular.”

Beyond that, Styles is keep­ing his cards close to his chest as to his next musi­cal move. How­ev­er, the air is thick with rumours that his main wing­man for HS2 is Kid Har­poon, aka Tom Hull, who co-wrote debut album track Sweet Crea­ture. No less an author­i­ty than Liam Gal­lagher told us that both big band escapees were in the same stu­dio – RAK in north-west Lon­don – at the same time mak­ing their sec­ond solo albums. Styles played him a cou­ple of tracks, ​“and I tell you what, they’re good,” Gal­lagher enthused. ​“A bit like that Bon Iver. Is that his name?”

Har­ry Styles met Nicks at a Fleet­wood Mac con­cert in Los Ange­les in April 2015. Some­thing about him felt authen­tic to the leg­endary front­woman: ground­ed, like she’d known him for­ev­er, blessed with a win­ning moon­shot grin. A month lat­er, they met back­stage at anoth­er Mac gig, this time at the O2 in Lon­don. Styles brought a car­rot cake for Nicks’ birth­day, her name piped in icing on top. By her own admis­sion, Nicks doesn’t even cel­e­brate birth­days, so this was a sur­prise. ​“He was per­son­al­ly respon­si­ble for me actu­al­ly hav­ing to cel­e­brate my birth­day, which was very sweet,” she says.

Styles’ rela­tion­ship with Nicks is hard to define. Induct­ing her into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in New York as a solo artist ear­li­er this year, his speech hymned her as a ​“mag­i­cal gyp­sy god­moth­er who occu­pies the in-between”. She’s called him her ​“lovechild” with Mick Fleet­wood and the ​“son I nev­er had”. Both have moved past the pre­lim­i­nary chat acknowl­edg­ing each other’s unquan­tifi­able tal­ents and smooth­ly accel­er­at­ed towards play­ful cut-and-thrust ban­ter of a witch mom and her naughty child.

They per­form togeth­er – he sings The Chainand Stop Drag­gin’ My Heart Around; she sings the one alleged­ly writ­ten about Tay­lor Swift, Two Ghosts. One of those per­for­mances was at the Guc­ci Cruise after­par­ty in Rome in May, for ​“a lot of mon­ey”, Nicks tells me, in a ​“big kind of cas­tle place”. She has become his de fac­to men­tor – one phone call is all it takes to reach the Queen of Rock’n’Roll for advice on sequenc­ing (“She is real­ly good at track list­ing,” Styles admits) or just to hear each other’s voic­es… because, well, wouldn’t you?

Fol­low­ing anoth­er Fleet­wood Mac con­cert, at London’s Wem­b­ley Sta­di­um, in June, Nicks met Styles for a late (Indi­an) din­ner. He then invit­ed her back to his semi-detached Geor­gian man­sion in north Lon­don for a lis­ten­ing par­ty at mid­night. The album – HS2or what­ev­er it’ll be called – was fin­ished. Nicks, her assis­tant Karen, her make-up artist and her friends Jess and Mary crammed onto Styles’ liv­ing-room couch. They lis­tened to it once through in silence like a ​“bunch of edu­cat­ed monks or some­thing in this dark room”. Then once again, 15 or 16 tracks, this time each of his guests offer­ing live feed­back. It wrapped at 5am, just as the sun was bleed­ing through the curtains.

Even for a pop star of Styles’ stature, press­ing ​“play” on a deeply per­son­al work for your hero to digest, watch­ing her face react in real time to your new music, must be… what?

“It’s a dou­ble-edged thing,” he replies. ​“You’re always ner­vous when you are play­ing peo­ple music for the first time. You’ve heard it so much by this point, you for­get that peo­ple haven’t heard it before. It’s hard to not feel like you’ve done what you’ve set out to do. You are hap­py with some­thing and then some­one who you respect so much and look up to is, like: ​‘I real­ly like this.’ It feels like a large stamp [of approval]. It’s a big step towards feel­ing very com­fort­able with what­ev­er else hap­pens to it.”

Wad­ing through Styles’ back­ground info is exhaust­ing, since he was spanked by fame in the social media era where every god­dam blink of a kohl-rimmed eye has been doc­u­ment­ed from six angles. (And yes, he does some­times wear guyliner.)

Deep breath: born in Red­ditch, Worces­ter­shire, to par­ents Des and Anne, who divorced when he was sev­en. Grew up in Holmes Chapel in Cheshire with his sis­ter Gem­ma, mum and step­dad Robin Twist. Rode hors­es at a near­by sta­ble for free (“I was a bad rid­er, but I was a rid­er”). Stopped rid­ing, ​“got into dif­fer­ent stuff”. Formed a band, White Eski­mo, with school­mates. Aged 16, tried out for the 2010 run of The X Fac­torwith a stir­ring but aver­age ren­di­tion of Ste­vie Wonder’s Isn’t She Love­ly. Cut from the show and put into a boy band with four oth­ers, Louis Tom­lin­son, Liam Payne, Niall Horan and Zayn Malik, and called One Direc­tion. Became inter­na­tion­al­ly famous, toured the globe. Zayn quit to go solo. Toured some more. Dat­ed but maybe didn’t date Car­o­line Flack, Rita Ora and Tay­lor Swift – whom he report­ed­ly dumped in the British Vir­gin Islands. (This rela­tion­ship, if noth­ing else, yield­ed an icon­ic, can­did shot of Swift look­ing deject­ed, being motored back to shore on the back of a boat called the Fly­ing Ray.) One Direc­tion dis­cussed dis­band­ing in 2014, actu­al­ly dis­solved in 2015. They remain friend­ly, and Styles offi­cial­ly went solo in 2016.

It’s been two years since his epony­mous debut and lead sin­gle, Sign of the Times, shocked the world and Elton John with its swag­ger­ing, soft rock sound. ​“It came out of left field and I loved it,” John says.

After 89 are­na-packed shows across five con­ti­nents grossed him, the label, whomev­er, over $61 mil­lion, Styles had all but dis­ap­peared. He has emerged only inter­mit­tent­ly for pub­lic-fac­ing events – a Guc­ci after­par­ty per­for­mance here, a Met Gala co-chair­ing there. He relo­cat­ed from Los Ange­les back to Lon­don, sell­ing his Hol­ly­wood Hills house for $6mil­lion and ship­ping his Jaguar E-type across the Atlantic so he could take joyrides on the M25.

“I’m not over LA,” he insists when I ask about the move. ​“My rela­tion­ship with LAchanged a lot. What I want­ed from LA changed.”

A great escape, he would agree, is some­times nec­es­sary. He was in Tokyo for most of Jan­u­ary, hav­ing near­ly fin­ished his album. ​“I need­ed time to get out of that album frame-of-mind of: ​‘Is it fin­ished? Where am I at? What’s hap­pen­ing?’ I real­ly need­ed that time away from every­one. I was kind of just in Tokyo by myself.” His sab­bat­i­cal most­ly involved read­ing Haru­ki Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chron­i­cle, singing Nir­vana at karaoke, writ­ing alone in his hotel room, lis­ten­ing to music and eaves­drop­ping on strangers in alien con­ver­sa­tion. ​“It was just a pos­i­tive time for my head and I think that impact­ed the album in a big way.”

Dur­ing this break he watched a lot of films, read a lot of books. Some­times he texts these rec­om­men­da­tions to his pal Michele at Guc­ci. He told Michele to watch the Ali Mac­graw film, Love Sto­ry. ​“We text what friends text about. He is the same [as me] in terms of he lives in his own world and he does his own thing. I love dress­ing up and he loves dress­ing up.”

Because he loves dress­ing up, Michele chose Styles to be the face of three Guc­ci Tai­lor­ing cam­paigns and of its new gen­der­less fra­grance, Mémoire d’une Odeur.

“The moment I met him, I imme­di­ate­ly under­stood there was some­thing strong around him,” Michele tells me. ​“I realised he was much more than a young singer. He was a young man, dressed in a thought­ful way, with uncombed hair and a beau­ti­ful voice. I thought he gath­ered with­in him­self the fem­i­nine and the masculine.”

Fash­ion, for Styles, is a play­ground. Some­thing he doesn’t take too seri­ous­ly. A cou­ple of years ago Har­ry Lam­bert, his styl­ist since 2015, acquired for him a pair of pink metal­lic Saint Lau­rent boots that he has nev­er been pho­tographed wear­ing. They are exceed­ing­ly rare – few pairs exist. Styles wears them ​“to get milk”. They are, in his words, ​“super-fun”. He’s not sure, but he has, ball­park, 50 pairs of shoes, as well as full clos­ets in at least three post­codes. He set­tles on an out­fit fair­ly quick­ly, maybe changes his T-shirt once before head­ing out, but most­ly knows what he likes.

What he may not ful­ly com­pre­hend is that sim­ply by being pho­tographed in a gar­ment he can spur the career of a design­er, as he has with Har­ris Reed, Palo­mo Spain, Charles Jef­frey, Alled-Martínez and a new favourite, Bode. Styles wore a SS16 Guc­ci flo­ral suit to the 2015 Amer­i­can Music Awards. When he was asked who made his suit on the red car­pet, Guc­ci began trend­ing world­wide on Twitter.

“It was one of the first times a male wore Alessandro’s run­way designs and, at the time, men were not tak­ing too many red car­pet risks,” says Lam­bert. ​“Who knows if it influ­enced oth­ers, but it was a spe­cial moment. Plus, it was fun see­ing the fans dress up in suits to come see Harry’s shows.”

Yet tra­di­tion­al gen­der codes of dress still have the minds of mid­dle Amer­i­ca in a choke­hold. Men can’t wear women’s clothes, say the online whingers, who have labelled him ​“trag­ic”, ​“a clown” and a Bowie wannabe. Styles doesn’t care. ​“What’s fem­i­nine and what’s mas­cu­line, what men are wear­ing and what women are wear­ing – it’s like there are no lines any more.”

Elton John agrees: ​“It worked for Marc Bolan, Bowie and Mick. Har­ry has the same qualities.”

Then there is the ques­tion of Styles’ sex­u­al­i­ty, some­thing he has admit­ted­ly ​“nev­er real­ly start­ed to label”, which will plague him until he does. Per­haps it’s part of his allure. He’s bran­dished a pride flag that read ​“Make Amer­i­ca Gay Again” on stage, and plant­ed a stake some­where left of cen­tre on sexuality’s rain­bow spectrum.

“In the posi­tion that he’s in, he can’t real­ly say a lot, but he chose a queer girl band to open for him and I think that speaks vol­umes,” Josette Maskin of the queer band MUNA told The Face ear­li­er this year.

“I get a lot of…” Styles trails off, wheels turn­ing on how he can dis­cuss sex­u­al­i­ty with­out real­ly answer­ing. ​“I’m not always super-out­spo­ken. But I think it’s very clear from choic­es that I make that I feel a cer­tain way about lots of things. I don’t know how to describe it. I guess I’m not…” He paus­es again, piv­ots. ​“I want every­one to feel wel­come at shows and online. They want to be loved and equal, you know? I’m nev­er unsup­port­ed, so it feels weird for me to over­think it for some­one else.”

Sex­u­al­i­ty aside, he must acknowl­edge that he has sex appeal. ​“The word ​‘sexy’ sounds so strange com­ing out of my mouth. So I would say that that’s prob­a­bly why I would not con­sid­er myself sexy.”

Har­ry Styles has emerged ful­ly-formed, an anachro­nis­tic rock star, vague in sen­si­bil­i­ty but des­tined to impress with a dis­arm­ing smile and a warm but firm handshake.

I recite to him a quote from Chrissie Hyn­de of The Pre­tenders about her time atop rock’s throne: ​“I nev­er got into this for the mon­ey or because I want­ed to join in the super­star sex around the swim­ming pools. I did it because the offer of a record con­tract came along and it seemed like it might be more fun than being a wait­ress. Now, I’m not so sure.”

Styles – who worked in a bak­ery in a small north­ern town some time before play­ing to 40,000 scream­ing fans in South Amer­i­can are­nas – must have wit­nessed some shit, been invit­ed to a few pool­side sex par­ties, in his time.

“I’ve seen a cou­ple of things,” he nods in agree­ment. ​“But I’m still young. I feel like there’s still stuff to see.”

[stylesnews]

The Face - Volume 4 . Issue 1

A hand­shake can quell polit­i­cal unrest and sti­fle impend­ing war. It can, with a bit of spit, val­i­date a gentleman’s agree­ment, end a years-long roman­tic rela­tion­ship or send a young heart rac­ing. But it all depends on the two par­ties involved.

Daisy, 21, felt a seis­mic jolt when Har­ry Styles, 25, wear­ing a striped jumper and rings on three of his five fin­gers, clutched her hand two days after this year’s Met Gala in New York, when she served him gela­to at the shop where she worked.

“He decid­ed on a small mint choco­late gela­to and I made his and the one for his friend and I said, ​‘Can I just say I absolute­ly loved your Met Gala look’ and he said ​‘Thank you very much! What’s your name?’ And I said, ​‘Daisy’ AND HE FUCK­ING EXTEND­ED HIS HAND AND REACHEDTO SHAKE MY HAND AND I ACTU­AL­LY FUCK­ING SHOOK HIS HAND WHAT THEFUCK,” she wrote on Insta­gram after The Shak­en­ing. ​“Like I didn’t even say any­thing to gas him up besides ​‘I loved your met gala look’ and his fine ass went and shook my hand! WHATA BEAU­TI­FUL FUCK­ING HUMAN BEING THAT HE IS GOD BLESS HIM AND I HOPE HW[sic] LIVES FOREVER.”

For Har­ry Styles, a hand­shake can be a roman­tic ges­ture, con­jur­ing a potent rev­er­ence in its recip­i­ent, like the time he met Gucci’s cre­ative direc­tor Alessan­dro Michele. ​“He was as attrac­tive as James Dean and as per­sua­sive as Gre­ta Gar­bo. He was like a Luchi­no Vis­con­ti char­ac­ter, like an Apol­lo: at the same time sexy as a woman, as a kid, as a man,” Michele told me, has­ten­ing to add: ​“Of course, Har­ry is not aware of this.”

No, Styles has no idea the pow­er he wields. In per­son, he’s tow­er­ing, like some­one who is not that much taller but whose rep­u­ta­tion adds four inch­es. Styles has a seda­tive bari­tone, spo­ken in a rum­my north­ern Eng­lish accent, that tum­bles out so slow­ly you for­get the name of your first born, a swag­ger that has been nursed and per­fect­ed in myth­i­cal places with names like Pais­ley Park, or Abbey Road, or Grace­land. Makes com­plete sense that he would be up for the role of Elvis Pres­ley in Baz Luhrmann’s upcom­ing biopic. He was primed, nay, born to shake his hips, all but one but­ton on his shirt cling­ing for dear life around his tor­so. Then the part was award­ed to anoth­er actor, Austin Butler.

“[Elvis] was such an icon for me grow­ing up,” Styles tells me. ​“There was some­thing almost sacred about him, almost like I didn’t want to touch him. Then I end­ed up get­ting into [his life] a bit and I wasn’t dis­ap­point­ed,” he adds of his ini­tial research and prepa­ra­tions to play The King. He seems relaxed about los­ing the part to But­ler. ​“I feel like if I’m not the right per­son for the thing, then it’s best for both of us that I don’t do it, you know?”

Styles released his self-titled debut solo album in May 2017. The boy­band grad was clear­ly unin­ter­est­ed in hol­low­ing out the charts with more for­mu­la­ic meme pop. Instead, to the sur­prise of many, he dug his heels into retro-fetishist West Coast ​’70s rock. Some of the One Direc­tion fan-hordes might have been con­fused, but no mat­ter: Har­ry Styles sold one mil­lion copies.

Despite its com­mer­cial and crit­i­cal suc­cess, he didn’t tour the album right away. He want­ed to act in the Christo­pher Nolan film Dunkirk. To his cred­it, his por­tray­al of a British sol­dier cow­er­ing in a moored boat on the French beach­es as the Nazis advanced wasn’t skew­ered in the press like the movie debuts of, say, Madon­na or Justin Tim­ber­lake. Per­haps he was fol­low­ing advice giv­en by Elton John, who had urged him to diver­si­fy. ​“He was bril­liant in Dunkirk, which took a lot of peo­ple by sur­prise,” John writes in an email. ​“I love how he takes chances and risks.” Act­ing, unlike music, is a release for Styles; it’s the one time he can be not himself.

“Why do I want to act? It’s so dif­fer­ent to music for me,” he says, sud­den­ly ani­mat­ed. ​“They’re almost oppo­site for me. Music, you try and put so much of your­self into it; act­ing, you’re try­ing to total­ly dis­ap­pear in who­ev­er you’re being.”

Fol­low­ing the news that he missed out on Pres­ley, his name was float­ed for the role of Prince Eric in Disney’s live-action remake of The Lit­tle Mer­maid. How­ev­er, fans will have to wait a bit longer to see Styles on the big screen as that idea, too, has sunk. He won’t be The King or the Prince. ​“It was dis­cussed,” he acknow­ledges before swift­ly chang­ing the sub­ject. ​“I want to put music out and focus on that for a while. But every­one involved in it was amaz­ing, so I think it’s going to be great. I’ll enjoy watch­ing it, I’m sure.”

The new album is wrapped and the sin­gle is decid­ed upon. ​“It’s not like his last album,” his friend, rock ​‘n’ roll leg­end Ste­vie Nicks, told me recent­ly over the phone. ​“It’s not like any­thing One Direc­tion ever did. It’s pure Har­ry, as Har­ry would say. He’s made a very dif­fer­ent record and it’s spectacular.”

Beyond that, Styles is keep­ing his cards close to his chest as to his next musi­cal move. How­ev­er, the air is thick with rumours that his main wing­man for HS2 is Kid Har­poon, aka Tom Hull, who co-wrote debut album track Sweet Crea­ture. No less an author­i­ty than Liam Gal­lagher told us that both big band escapees were in the same stu­dio – RAK in north-west Lon­don – at the same time mak­ing their sec­ond solo albums. Styles played him a cou­ple of tracks, ​“and I tell you what, they’re good,” Gal­lagher enthused. ​“A bit like that Bon Iver. Is that his name?”

Har­ry Styles met Nicks at a Fleet­wood Mac con­cert in Los Ange­les in April 2015. Some­thing about him felt authen­tic to the leg­endary front­woman: ground­ed, like she’d known him for­ev­er, blessed with a win­ning moon­shot grin. A month lat­er, they met back­stage at anoth­er Mac gig, this time at the O2 in Lon­don. Styles brought a car­rot cake for Nicks’ birth­day, her name piped in icing on top. By her own admis­sion, Nicks doesn’t even cel­e­brate birth­days, so this was a sur­prise. ​“He was per­son­al­ly respon­si­ble for me actu­al­ly hav­ing to cel­e­brate my birth­day, which was very sweet,” she says.

Styles’ rela­tion­ship with Nicks is hard to define. Induct­ing her into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in New York as a solo artist ear­li­er this year, his speech hymned her as a ​“mag­i­cal gyp­sy god­moth­er who occu­pies the in-between”. She’s called him her ​“lovechild” with Mick Fleet­wood and the ​“son I nev­er had”. Both have moved past the pre­lim­i­nary chat acknowl­edg­ing each other’s unquan­tifi­able tal­ents and smooth­ly accel­er­at­ed towards play­ful cut-and-thrust ban­ter of a witch mom and her naughty child.

They per­form togeth­er – he sings The Chain and Stop Drag­gin’ My Heart Around; she sings the one alleged­ly writ­ten about Tay­lor Swift, Two Ghosts. One of those per­for­mances was at the Guc­ci Cruise after­par­ty in Rome in May, for ​“a lot of mon­ey”, Nicks tells me, in a ​“big kind of cas­tle place”. She has become his de fac­to men­tor – one phone call is all it takes to reach the Queen of Rock’n’Roll for advice on sequenc­ing (“She is real­ly good at track list­ing,” Styles admits) or just to hear each other’s voic­es… because, well, wouldn’t you?

Fol­low­ing anoth­er Fleet­wood Mac con­cert, at London’s Wem­b­ley Sta­di­um, in June, Nicks met Styles for a late (Indi­an) din­ner. He then invit­ed her back to his semi-detached Geor­gian man­sion in north Lon­don for a lis­ten­ing par­ty at mid­night. The album – HS2or what­ev­er it’ll be called – was fin­ished. Nicks, her assis­tant Karen, her make-up artist and her friends Jess and Mary crammed onto Styles’ liv­ing-room couch. They lis­tened to it once through in silence like a ​“bunch of edu­cat­ed monks or some­thing in this dark room”. Then once again, 15 or 16 tracks, this time each of his guests offer­ing live feed­back. It wrapped at 5am, just as the sun was bleed­ing through the curtains.

Even for a pop star of Styles’ stature, press­ing ​“play” on a deeply per­son­al work for your hero to digest, watch­ing her face react in real time to your new music, must be… what?

“It’s a dou­ble-edged thing,” he replies. ​“You’re always ner­vous when you are play­ing peo­ple music for the first time. You’ve heard it so much by this point, you for­get that peo­ple haven’t heard it before. It’s hard to not feel like you’ve done what you’ve set out to do. You are hap­py with some­thing and then some­one who you respect so much and look up to is, like: ​‘I real­ly like this.’ It feels like a large stamp [of approval]. It’s a big step towards feel­ing very com­fort­able with what­ev­er else hap­pens to it.”

Wad­ing through Styles’ back­ground info is exhaust­ing, since he was spanked by fame in the social media era where every god­dam blink of a kohl-rimmed eye has been doc­u­ment­ed from six angles. (And yes, he does some­times wear guyliner.)

Deep breath: born in Red­ditch, Worces­ter­shire, to par­ents Des and Anne, who divorced when he was sev­en. Grew up in Holmes Chapel in Cheshire with his sis­ter Gem­ma, mum and step­dad Robin Twist. Rode hors­es at a near­by sta­ble for free (“I was a bad rid­er, but I was a rid­er”). Stopped rid­ing, ​“got into dif­fer­ent stuff”. Formed a band, White Eski­mo, with school­mates. Aged 16, tried out for the 2010 run of The X Fac­torwith a stir­ring but aver­age ren­di­tion of Ste­vie Wonder’s Isn’t She Love­ly. Cut from the show and put into a boy band with four oth­ers, Louis Tom­lin­son, Liam Payne, Niall Horan and Zayn Malik, and called One Direc­tion. Became inter­na­tion­al­ly famous, toured the globe. Zayn quit to go solo. Toured some more. Dat­ed but maybe didn’t date Car­o­line Flack, Rita Ora and Tay­lor Swift – whom he report­ed­ly dumped in the British Vir­gin Islands. (This rela­tion­ship, if noth­ing else, yield­ed an icon­ic, can­did shot of Swift look­ing deject­ed, being motored back to shore on the back of a boat called the Fly­ing Ray.) One Direc­tion dis­cussed dis­band­ing in 2014, actu­al­ly dis­solved in 2015. They remain friend­ly, and Styles offi­cial­ly went solo in 2016.

It’s been two years since his epony­mous debut and lead sin­gle, Sign of the Times, shocked the world and Elton John with its swag­ger­ing, soft rock sound. ​“It came out of left field and I loved it,” John says.

After 89 are­na-packed shows across five con­ti­nents grossed him, the label, whomev­er, over $61mil­lion, Styles had all but dis­ap­peared. He has emerged only inter­mit­tent­ly for pub­lic-fac­ing events – a Guc­ci after­par­ty per­for­mance here, a Met Gala co-chair­ing there. He relo­cat­ed from Los Ange­les back to Lon­don, sell­ing his Hol­ly­wood Hills house for $6 mil­lion and ship­ping his Jaguar E-type across the Atlantic so he could take joyrides on the M25.

“I’m not over LA,” he insists when I ask about the move. ​“My rela­tion­ship with LA changed a lot. What I want­ed from LA changed.”

A great escape, he would agree, is some­times nec­es­sary. He was in Tokyo for most of Jan­u­ary, hav­ing near­ly fin­ished his album. ​“I need­ed time to get out of that album frame-of-mind of: ​‘Is it fin­ished? Where am I at? What’s hap­pen­ing?’ I real­ly need­ed that time away from every­one. I was kind of just in Tokyo by myself.” His sab­bat­i­cal most­ly involved read­ing Haru­ki Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chron­i­cle, singing Nir­vana at karaoke, writ­ing alone in his hotel room, lis­ten­ing to music and eaves­drop­ping on strangers in alien con­ver­sa­tion. ​“It was just a pos­i­tive time for my head and I think that impact­ed the album in a big way.”

Dur­ing this break he watched a lot of films, read a lot of books. Some­times he texts these rec­om­men­da­tions to his pal Michele at Guc­ci. He told Michele to watch the Ali Mac­graw film, Love Sto­ry. ​“We text what friends text about. He is the same [as me] in terms of he lives in his own world and he does his own thing. I love dress­ing up and he loves dress­ing up.”

Because he loves dress­ing up, Michele chose Styles to be the face of three Guc­ci Tai­lor­ing cam­paigns and of its new gen­der­less fra­grance, Mémoire d’une Odeur.

“The moment I met him, I imme­di­ate­ly under­stood there was some­thing strong around him,” Michele tells me. ​“I realised he was much more than a young singer. He was a young man, dressed in a thought­ful way, with uncombed hair and a beau­ti­ful voice. I thought he gath­ered with­in him­self the fem­i­nine and the masculine.”

Fash­ion, for Styles, is a play­ground. Some­thing he doesn’t take too seri­ous­ly. A cou­ple of years ago Har­ry Lam­bert, his styl­ist since 2015, acquired for him a pair of pink metal­lic Saint Lau­rent boots that he has nev­er been pho­tographed wear­ing. They are exceed­ing­ly rare – few pairs exist. Styles wears them ​“to get milk”. They are, in his words, ​“super-fun”. He’s not sure, but he has, ball­park, 50 pairs of shoes, as well as full clos­ets in at least three post­codes. He set­tles on an out­fit fair­ly quick­ly, maybe changes his T-shirt once before head­ing out, but most­ly knows what he likes.

What he may not ful­ly com­pre­hend is that sim­ply by being pho­tographed in a gar­ment he can spur the career of a design­er, as he has with Har­ris Reed, Palo­mo Spain, Charles Jef­frey, Alled-Martínez and a new favourite, Bode. Styles wore a SS16 Guc­ci flo­ral suit to the 2015 Amer­i­can Music Awards. When he was asked who made his suit on the red car­pet, Guc­ci began trend­ing world­wide on Twitter.

“It was one of the first times a male wore Alessandro’s run­way designs and, at the time, men were not tak­ing too many red car­pet risks,” says Lam­bert. ​“Who knows if it influ­enced oth­ers, but it was a spe­cial moment. Plus, it was fun see­ing the fans dress up in suits to come see Harry’s shows.”

Yet tra­di­tion­al gen­der codes of dress still have the minds of mid­dle Amer­i­ca in a choke­hold. Men can’t wear women’s clothes, say the online whingers, who have labelled him ​“trag­ic”, ​“a clown” and a Bowie wannabe. Styles doesn’t care. ​“What’s fem­i­nine and what’s mas­cu­line, what men are wear­ing and what women are wear­ing – it’s like there are no lines any more.”

Elton John agrees: ​“It worked for Marc Bolan, Bowie and Mick. Har­ry has the same qualities.”

Then there is the ques­tion of Styles’ sex­u­al­i­ty, some­thing he has admit­ted­ly ​“nev­er real­ly start­ed to label”, which will plague him until he does. Per­haps it’s part of his allure. He’s bran­dished a pride flag that read ​“Make Amer­i­ca Gay Again” on stage, and plant­ed a stake some­where left of cen­tre on sexuality’s rain­bow spectrum.

“In the posi­tion that he’s in, he can’t real­ly say a lot, but he chose a queer girl band to open for him and I think that speaks vol­umes,” Josette Maskin of the queer band MUNA told The Face ear­li­er this year.

“I get a lot of…” Styles trails off, wheels turn­ing on how he can dis­cuss sex­u­al­i­ty with­out real­ly answer­ing. ​“I’m not always super-out­spo­ken. But I think it’s very clear from choic­es that I make that I feel a cer­tain way about lots of things. I don’t know how to describe it. I guess I’m not…” He paus­es again, piv­ots. ​“I want every­one to feel wel­come at shows and online. They want to be loved and equal, you know? I’m nev­er unsup­port­ed, so it feels weird for me to over­think it for some­one else.”

Sex­u­al­i­ty aside, he must acknowl­edge that he has sex appeal. ​“The word ​‘sexy’ sounds so strange com­ing out of my mouth. So I would say that that’s prob­a­bly why I would not con­sid­er myself sexy.”

Har­ry Styles has emerged ful­ly-formed, an anachro­nis­tic rock star, vague in sen­si­bil­i­ty but des­tined to impress with a dis­arm­ing smile and a warm but firm handshake.

I recite to him a quote from Chrissie Hyn­de of The Pre­tenders about her time atop rock’s throne: ​“I nev­er got into this for the mon­ey or because I want­ed to join in the super­star sex around the swim­ming pools. I did it because the offer of a record con­tract came along and it seemed like it might be more fun than being a wait­ress. Now, I’m not so sure.”

Styles – who worked in a bak­ery in a small north­ern town some time before play­ing to 40,000scream­ing fans in South Amer­i­can are­nas – must have wit­nessed some shit, been invit­ed to a few pool­side sex par­ties, in his time.

“I’ve seen a cou­ple of things,” he nods in agree­ment. ​“But I’m still young. I feel like there’s still stuff to see.”

[let-it-raines]

Hey! I saw your answer to anon about musician Killian and of course had to go reread it. And if I may be so bold, may I request the Mystery Musical Man from Killians point of view?

Of course you can request it from Killian’s POV! It made for an easy prompt request to fill. lol. 💙

Original Prompt: CS fic where someone walks by a street musician every day in her way to work and she always bring him coffe and something to eat because she thinks he’s poor and could use some help, but actually he’s like a super star and just plays in the street for fun?

Part one: Mystery Musical Man 

-/-

The first time she places a cup of coffee at his feet and a five dollar bill in his guitar case, he nearly stops singing “Can’t Help Falling in Love” and asks her for her name, but he doesn’t, the music continuing to roll off of his tongue and his fingers as she walks away, her golden hair falling down her back and nearly reaching the top of her black pencil skirt. He’s noticed her before. She walks this route nearly every day, and she usually comes by when the streets are pretty empty. It’s the same reason that he plays early in the morning on Murray Hill. It’s New York City so it’s crowded, but it’s not a madhouse.

Or maybe it is, and he’s got no clue since he’s distracted by the blonde woman who walks by him five days a week. She’s usually dressed professionally, modest skirts and pants with blouses, and if he had to guess, the sneakers on her feet are only for her walk to work and not what she wears all day. He’s got no bloody clue what it is that she does for a living, but he’s curious about her.

He stays curious about her as the weeks pass by and she continuously brings him cups of coffee from The Bean. It’s always black, and even though he usually likes a little milk in his coffee, he learns to accept it with a kind smile and nothing else. Many times he almost talks to her, asks her for her name, but despite the fact that words are constantly flowing out of his mouth as he sings, the words are never the ones that he wants to say.

“What’s your name?”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Why do you buy me coffee every day?”

He wants to ask that last question even though he knows the answer. She thinks he’s a struggling musician playing on street corners for tips, and while he is a musician playing on a street corner, he’s not struggling nor truly asking for tips. It’s been years since he had to do that, but he remembers the struggle of needing to supplement his income and get a little extra cash on the side. He honestly didn’t think he looked too poor off, but he does usually walk here from his apartment and wear torn jeans and a battered Yankees cap. Maybe he should dress a little more nicely, but then again, then the beautiful lass might not buy him coffee anymore.

He swears that one day he’ll talk to her.

She is his muse after all.

-/-

“We want you to do a concert,” Arthur tells him as he sits in his recording label’s office in Los Angeles with Will, Robin, and Anton sitting in the chairs next to him.

“We don’t have any new music,” Robin points out, leaning forward in his chair. “Why would we do a concert without any music?”

“You have new music,” Arthur sighs as he takes a sip of his tea from behind his desk, a view of the ocean behind him. “You’ve got enough for half of a set, which will be a perfect preview of the album for when Killian finishes writing it, and then you can mix in old favorites. This will keep you all relevant.”

He chuckles a little bit at that, but he always does whenever he has to talk business. He plays guitar and sings songs and writes lyrics because he enjoys it. Yes, the success and adrenaline of playing in front of thousands of people is wonderful and he wouldn’t trade it in, but at the end of the day, none of that matters if he’s not enjoying making music. That’s what it’s always been about. His mum taught him to play the piano and his brother taught him to play the guitar, and he never feels closer to them than when he’s playing. Really, he never feels closer to them than when he’s standing on the street singing songs form decades past because they’re the songs his mum always had on in the house whenever she would cook or do laundry to make it all a little more exciting.

His mother used to always be dancing with this beatific smile on her face and laughter on her lips, and he likes to remember her that way instead of weak and pale in a hospital bed. It’s the same with Liam. Killian likes to remember him refusing to dance with their mum, too old and too proud, before eventually giving in and dancing. It’s easier than remembering the knock that came to his apartment door with two Naval officers standing outside.

It’s happier too.

Music has always been his safe haven. It’s how he’s processed things, how he’s fallen in love and how he’s healed from broken hearts. It allows him to put his thoughts and feelings into a set of lyrics that go along with a melody, and maybe, just maybe, it makes all of that heartache feel a little further from home while still keeping it close where only he knows every meaning behind each word and note in a song.

Having the White Sails take off and be successful has been amazing, more than he could have ever dreamed of, but as Arthur asks them to play some of his new songs to a crowd full of people, all he really wants to do is play them on the sidewalk and have the pretty lass with green eyes and a beautiful smile hear him sing.

He’s rather fascinated with her and the coffee she always brings him, and most of the songs he’s written in the past few months have been partially written about her. A part of him wonders if she listens to much music as she has never recognized his face or his voice, but he’s not conceited enough to think that everyone on the street should know who he is. He likes the anonymity.

Just maybe not with her.

“We don’t need to be kept bloody relevant,” Will groans, his accent coming out a little stronger than before. “We are relevant. I haven’t worked my arse off for – ”

“Where and when?” he interrupts, an idea sparking in his mind.

“What now?”

“Where and when do you want us to do the concert? If we’re going to play some of the new songs, I need to fine tune them, and I’ll need a couple of weeks for that.”

Arthur smiles, and it’s the one Killian recognizes as it meaning something big.

“Two months from today in Madison Square Garden. Our marketing team is ready to drop both promotion and ticket sales tonight.”

“Do it.”

He spends the next twelve days in the recording studio trying to fix his songs and make them perfect. They won’t be. They’ll still need some work before they officially go on the album, but he thinks he likes them for now. He also thinks that he likes the tune that he can’t get out of his head about the woman with emerald eyes and hair that shines in the morning light, and he makes a promise to himself to actually speak to her when he returns home.

-/-

The morning after he gets back to New York, he takes his guitar and walks then ten blocks to his usual spot, deciding that today is a Queen day, and sings acoustic versions of most of their hits. He’s in the middle of We Are the Champions when he sees her. She’s got headphones in and only one cup of coffee in her hand. He didn’t tell her that he’d be gone for weeks, but honestly, he didn’t really know that he would be. It was only supposed to be a weekend. Besides, they don’t know each other. Just because they have this routine doesn’t actually mean anything.

Right?

She stops to watch him play, and there’s barely another soul around as he finishes out the song, letting the music die as his fingers stop moving.

“Where have you been?” she asks, her voice a pitch lower than he thought it would be. He likes it.

He quirks an eyebrow, shocked at her speaking, before he flashes her a smile and looks down at her coffee mug before looking back up to those emerald eyes with a smirk painted on his lips. “Did you miss me?”

She shrugs, and he has to stifle his laugh. He can’t believe they’re finally speaking after dancing around each other for months. Or really, singing around each other. There has been no dancing involved. He bets she’d be a good dancer.

“I guess so. I didn’t – I stopped buying your coffee. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, love. I wasn’t around. Wouldn’t want you to waste your money, but I did miss you and your coffee.”

He obviously doesn’t have a filter, but he’s somehow comfortable talking to her.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” he sighs, encouraged by the little spark of excitement in her eyes. “They don’t make black coffee in LA, and they don’t have pretty lasses bring it to you.”

It’s been a solid year since he flirted with a woman, but he thinks he’s doing alright. Because that is what he’s doing. Flirting. He’s missed it.

“What a pity,” she mumbles, her cheeks flushed red even as he can tell that she’s downplaying her reaction. “I wonder how you survived.”

She’s got spunk. He likes her.

(Spunk? Does he suddenly live in the 1950’s?)

“The hardest few weeks of my life honestly. I didn’t think I was going to make it.”

She laughs, a real, genuine laugh, and if he could turn that into a melody to have forever, he would. Hopefully he’ll get the chance to make her laugh again.

Hopefully this conversation isn’t a one-time thing.

It’s not.

The next day she brings him his coffee, and they chat for a little while, stumbling into the fact that they both enjoy comedies more than any other genre of television, though he does love a good historical drama every now and then. But she’s a fan of shows like The Office and The Good Place, so they talk about last week’s episode before she has to go to work. It goes like that for a few more days, and in those days he learns that her favorite food is a grilled cheese hold all of the fancy toppings and that she runs every other day after work. If she doesn’t, she’ll apparently go crazy. He gets that. She obviously sits at a desk most of the day, and he would go crazy staying still for that long.

It’s a Tuesday when he finally learns her name. He’s between songs, his throat a little scratchy, when she shows up, so instead of placing his coffee on the ground like she usually does, she hands it to him.

“Thank you, love.”

“Yeah, no problem,” she mumbles before bringing her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes darting anywhere but to him. He takes a sip of his coffee, the liquid warm and soothing on the way down, and just before he finishes swallowing, she blurts out, “what’s your name?”

It takes him back a bit, but mostly all he can think is finally.

“Killian,” he answers, flashing her a smile. “And you?”

“Do you not have a last name?”

He thinks on it a minute, debating whether or not he wants to tell her his last name. He doesn’t think she knows who he is, or maybe she does and doesn’t care. Either way, he doesn’t want this little routine between them to change. He comes out here in the mornings for himself, but he would be remiss to think that he didn’t also make his way here to the same spot every morning to see her.

“I do,” he slowly begins, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup. “I just didn’t think you’d care.”

“I care. I’m Emma Swan if that helps.”

Emma Swan.

He likes it. God help him he thinks he might like her.

Is thirty four too old to have a crush?

“Jones then. Killian Jones.”

Her lips twitch, threatening to pull up into a smile, and he already knows that he’s got a smile painted on his lips. “Did you phrase it that way so you could say your name like James Bond?”

He winks. “I guess you’ll never know.”

They continue on as usual, getting to know each other over their ten minute chats every weekday. She brings him his coffee, he calls her Swan, and on the days when he’s in the middle of a song when she walks up, he changes the lyrics to her name to make her smile. It works every single time, and no part of him cares that it’s a little cheesy.

He’s a little cheesy when he’s tired. They’ve been having rehearsals during the day and during some nights, and it’s exhausting. It’s been awhile since they’ve played outside of a recording studio or one of their living rooms, so it’s a bit frustrating for them not to be perfectly in sync. It’s just one night, though, one show, and as time nears for it, he finally starts to feel like they’re getting ready.

But in the mornings he desperately needs his coffee from Emma, the family lawyer (how badass is that?) who still doesn’t seem to believe him when he tells her that he’s a musician.

So one morning, a week before the concert, when there’s a practical monsoon taking over Manhattan, instead of staying in his apartment, he makes his way to the closest The Bean shop in hopes that he can see Emma. It might be taking it a step too far, but honestly, it’s not the craziest thing he’s ever done for a woman.

He sees her when she walks in, her red rain coat dripping with water, and he tugs at his beanie while she talks to the barista who points over at him. Emma’s head twists to look in his direction, and she stalks her way over to him, plopping down in the chair across from him.

“So you stalking me now?” she laughs as her eyes come into contact with his. “Because I’ve got to say, I’m not sure the coffee I bring you every morning is worth all of the hassle.”

He gives her a lopsided grin, knowing that it’s charming, and reaches up to scratch at his ear, adjusting his beaning again. “I’m not stalking you. I, well, I can’t perform in all of this rain, and I still needed my coffee fix.”

“How’d you even figure out it was this store? You know this is a chain, right?”

He shrugs. “Google, some powers of deduction, and a whole lot of luck.”

“Well color me impressed mystery musical man.”

What in the world did she just call him? Mystery musical man?

He can’t help but laugh, and it ends up being louder than he expected, making several people stare at him. His ears are suddenly far too hot under this beanie.

He’s not alone, though. He can see the blush on Emma’s cheeks. “Um, nothing.”

“No, no,” he teases, leaning forward on the table and waggling his brows while flashing her another smile, completely amused and besotted by this entire situation. Man is he glad that she’s not mad that he showed up here. “You called me mystery musical man. Swan, I didn’t know you had a nickname for me.”

“Yeah, well, I went a few months not knowing who you were. What was I supposed to do?”

“Ask me my name.”

“I did…eventually.” He shakes his head from side to side as he smiles, remembering to slide her coffee cup over to her. “So, um, can I ask you a question? And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Sure, love, but I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t tell you unless you’re about to ask me some deep, personal secret like if I’ve ever dyed my hair.”

She snorts into her drink. That’s not quite as melodic as her laugh, but he likes it just the same. “No, no. I’d never ask such a deeply personal question, but I do, um, what the hell is it that you do for a living?”

His brows furrow as he clicks his tongue. Wow, she really doesn’t believe him. “Didn’t we talk about this already? I’m a musician.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but do you do anything else besides performing before eight in the morning? I know this is rude, but I’m just…curious.”

“Tis not rude,” he admits, hoping to calm her. She doesn’t need to feel awkward around him. He hopes that she doesn’t, that they’re friends, that they have…potential. “What someone does for a living is basic conversation. But seriously, no. I’m a musician, and I do play more than the mornings. That’s honestly just for fun.”

“So where do you play? I’d love to come see you.” He raises his brows, curling the right side of his lips into a smirk and closing his eyes halfway as he stares at her, trying to get her to blush like she was earlier. “To see you play,” she clarifies, hiding behind her mug. “I’d love to see you play.”

She’s adorable, and he’s utterly, officially charmed.

“I know what you mean, love. I, um,” he hesitates, knowing that what he’s about to tell her could change their relationship but wanting to tell her anyhow, “I haven’t had many gigs lately, but I am playing on Friday night if you’d like to come.”

“Really?” she asks excitedly. “Where?”

He clenches his teeth down and looks up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to say to keep some of the mystery alive so she’ll be more likely to show up to the show. He is mystery musical man after all.

“Tell you what, love, I’m going to get you some tickets for you and a friend, and the address will be on them. Does that work for you?”

“It makes you seem like the definition of mystery musical man.”

“Yeah, well, that’s apparently who I am.”

They chat for a little while longer before he walks with her to work, holding his umbrella over both of their heads, and when he realizes that she’s not sure how to say goodbye, he boldly leans down and brushes a kiss against her cheek that he swears lights his entire body aflame.

-/-

Adrenaline runs through him for all of Friday. He’s nervous. He’s a professional, and he’s so damn nervous that he might vomit as he paces back and forth in their dressing room after sound check. He’s not sure if it’s the combination of pre-show jitters and showcasing new songs or if it has to do with him wondering whether or not Emma is going to show up tonight. It’ll be fine if she doesn’t. Really, it will.

But he wants her here.

He’s got feelings for the woman, and he’d like for her to know what it really is that he does, no more vague secrets.

“How much coffee did you drink, Jones?” Will chuckles, calmly propping his feet on a coffee table and taking a sip of his water. “You’re vibrating.”

“No coffee. I’m tired.”

“He invited a lass,” Robin not so helpfully supplies.

“I should have never told you, you arse.”

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have known how to get her tickets.”

He rolls his eyes and keeps pacing. This is all going to be just fine. It has to be. The show will be fine, great probably. Two songs in, and he’ll be back to his normal self on stage.

And it’ll be a damn good time.

And Emma will be here.

“Hello, everybody,” he says into the microphone when they’re finally on stage minutes later, lights blaring down on him and the audience talking under a loud murmur as he takes several deep breaths and plasters a smile on his face. “I’m so glad you all can be here tonight. I know it’s been awhile since we performed, but it took a bit to get some inspiration for our new songs, though I finally found some lately. So I thank you for being patient with us. I’m Killian Jones, and we are The White Sails.”

-/-

After the concert he’s on a high that he hasn’t felt for a long time, his body practically buzzing with excitement and a little bit of the rum he drank before the show. It went well, the new songs getting a good reaction, but now that he’s changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt and has had time to digest all of that, all he can think about is the fact that Emma bloody Swan is waiting outside in the hallway for him.

His mates are going to tease him about this for a solid month.

It’ll be worth it.

He steps out of the dressing room, his hand already at his ear with nerves, and walks right toward Emma and who he assumes is her friend.

“I’m sorry I didn’t buy you coffee,” she blurts out before her eyes widen, the mortification practically broadcasted on her face.

He shrugs and laughs, unable to help himself. “That’s okay, love. I think maybe you can have a pass this time.” He leans forward and wraps his arms around her, embracing her and hoping that he doesn’t smell too much like sweat when he hasn’t taken a shower. Emma smells like vanilla. He’s never noticed that before. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she answers as she pulls back, “that was incredible. You’re incredible. I’m just entirely confused.” He expected that and is about to address it when the woman next to Emma coughs, and they both turn to look at her. “And this is Ruby Lucas,” Emma tells him.

“Nice to meet you, mystery musical man. I came with to make sure my girl wasn’t going to get murdered tonight.”

“Totally understandable,” he laughs, reaching for Ruby’s hand. He forgot to take off his rings from the show, and he feels them against her skin. “That’s why there were two tickets. To prevent the murder, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Emma interrupts, and his attention turns back to her, “I just have a lot of questions.”

“Well Swan, maybe I have some answers. Do you – ” Arthur calls his name behind him, and he twists to look at him to see him motioning his hand. “ – can you and Ruby wait here while I do a bit of quick business?”

“Sure. That’s fine.”

He jogs off to talk to Arthur, hopefully telling him that this won’t take long because he’d rather be talking to Emma than to Arthur about what he’s sure is some deadline for the new album.

“Great show, Jones,” he greets, clapping his hand and pulling him in for a hug and patting his back.

“Thank you. It went better than I thought it would.”

“It always does. The new songs were great. The label loves them. We ended up sold out on tickets and merch tonight. That was what was unexpected. Not the show going well but us having an audience.”

“Quite a lot of faith you’re putting in me there.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, always the realist. “You know what I mean. I just wanted to let you know that and that we have a meeting with the label tomorrow.”

“God, please tell me that it’s in the New York office. I’m not flying cross country tomorrow.”

“It’s in the New York office,” he sighs, smiling a little bit. “At one. Make sure Will shows up.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Good, go back to talk to your girl.”

He almost protests, but instead he winks at Arthur and starts making his way back to Emma who is probably going crazy with thoughts right now. She gets up to greet him, and before he can even open his mouth to apologize for leaving, she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him, her lips soft against his. It takes him far too long to kiss back, the moment shocking him, but when he does, he tries to keep it soft and slow, treating her with all of the care she deserves instead of pushing her back up against the wall and devouring her. Though, now that he knows how Emma kisses, he wants to do that too. His lips caress hers and his hands reach up to cup her cheeks before threading into her hair while hers does the same, another pleasant buzz spreading across his skin.

He absolutely cannot believe that he’s kissing Emma Swan.

Drinking all of that black coffee without creamer was totally worth it.

When she pulls back, he growls, not able to stop himself as he chases her lips and rests his forehead against hers, breathing in even though he knows that she’s taken his breath away.

Maybe he gets a little cheesy all of the time.

“So the whole being in a band thing really did it for you, huh?”

“No,” she promises, quickly brushing her lips against his again while her fingers keep playing with his hair. He’d like to keep doing that for a long time. “I don’t care about that. It’s awesome, but I don’t care.”

“Yeah?” he asks, all of his nerves over the whole thing beginning to fade away. Maybe this will all work out.

“Yeah. All I really want is to buy you a coffee.”

He laughs against her lips, unable to help himself. Tonight is a good night.

Tonight is a damn great night.

“You know what, Swan? I think I can buy this time.”

He and Emma get coffee two days later. He buys despite her protests, and it goes on like that for days and weeks and months as coffee dates turn into actual dates and dates turn into overnight stays and overnight stays turn into moving in together. Eventually moving in together turns into getting married, and all along the way he writes far more songs than he thinks he has in his entire life, filling albums with his love.

Emma Jones is a fantastic muse.

[starkravinghazelnoots]

Orange or yellow and Peter or Tony for the drabble thing! (rly predictable ik sorry!)

ORANGE

Energy, balance, warmth, enthusiasm, vitality, expansion, flamboyancy, and autumn.

This turned into way longer than a drabble. I couldn't resist the pull of writing some Biderman in honor of Pride. I had a ton of fun writing this, so I hope this lives up your expectations and that all of you enjoy!

I apologize in advance if the line break doesn't work. Tumblr really hates when I try to use line breaks.

xXx

How to be Proud

Peter was pretty confident in himself. What's more, he had an extremely supportive family and group of friends, some of whom understood what he was going through better than others.

But that didn't mean it was always easy to be proud of himself. It wasn't for Peter, at least.

But Spider-Man? He didn't have that problem.

"Don't fucking touch me, homo!"

Peter rolled his eyes behind the mask as he shot a web over the criminal's mouth. "Trust me, buddy, I'm not gonna touch someone as nasty as you." He gestured to the purple, pink, and blue cape tied around his neck. "And for the record, Mr. Homophobe, I'm bisexual. If you're going to insult me, at least get it right."

Peter called the police to report the location of the tied-up criminal before swinging away. His curfew was in ten minutes, which meant he had to hurry if he wanted to make it back to his apartment on time.

He dove through his window right as the clock on his dresser changed to midnight - on Fridays he was allowed that extra hour, but he did have a tendency to push it.

"How was patrol?" May asked. She was leaning against the door frame of his room. She must have just gotten back from her shift at the hospital, because she was still in her scrubs.

"Pretty good!" Peter said, standing up. The Iron Spider mask disappeared from his face. "Stopped a bank robbery and some petty theft. I also rescued Mrs. Post's cat again. He keeps escaping and climbing up the tree next to her house." Peter snickered. "It's still so funny to me that she named her cat Jeff."

May smiled at his amusement. "Well, I'm sure she was very grateful."

He laughed. "Yeah. She always tries to give me cookies or some other kind of sweet before I leave." Peter snapped his fingers, remembering the last thing he did before returning home. "Oh, I also stopped a kid from being beat up. I don't know who he was, because he ran away when I swung down into the alley, but I took care of his attacker." He untied the flag from his neck and hung it over the chair in front of his desk. "He was a nasty guy, too. Homophobic. Smelled like hot garbage."

May chuckled. "Well, it's a good thing you were there to take care of him." She gestured to his bisexual flag. "Get any compliments on that?"

Peter beamed at her. "Yes! It was so great. A girl actually burst into tears when she saw me because she was so happy her favorite superhero was bisexual, too."

May held her arms out, and he eagerly accepted her hug. "I'm so proud of you, Peter."

Peter smiled. "Thank you, May." His voice was muffled by her shirt. "I love you."

May pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Well, I love you more."

"I love you most."

"Then I love you more than the most!"

Peter laughed. "You're the worst."

"Oh, I know."

xXx

MJ slid into the chair in front of Peter, startling him out of a daydream that definitely had not involved the aforementioned girl. "We're still on for Pride tomorrow, right?"

"I am," Ned said excitedly. "I can't wait!"

Peter nodded, taking a sip from the cup of coffee in front of him. He loved this little café. "Yep. It's gonna be so cool to go with both of you." He'd been looking forward to Pride all week. It would be his first time going as openly bi, and he wasn't sure whether he was excited or terrified.

MJ smiled. "Nice. Because I had a little idea that I thought the two of you might be interested in."

Peter glanced at Ned, who shrugged. "Alright," he said, turning back to MJ. "What's your idea?"

She smirked. "There is a third person I propose we bring to Pride. But I wanted your approval before I invited him."

"Sure. Who is it?"

MJ's grin widened. "Spider-Man."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "You want to invite Spider-Man?" It was always weird having to refer to himself in the third person. "Why?"

MJ shrugged. "He's an out and proud bisexual superhero. I think a lot of people, especially the teens at Pride, could use that kind of confidence boost."

Peter felt the blood rush to his cheeks, simultaneously embarrassed and flattered. "Oh. Okay."

"Do you have a specific thing you want Spider-Man to do at Pride?" Ned asked.

"I'm glad you brought that up." MJ pulled her sketchbook seemingly out of nowhere and placed it on Peter's desk. "I drew some concept art for what I think Spider-Man should wear."

Peter looked at her sketch. "Don't you think that's a bit flamboyant for a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?"

MJ shrugged. "So what? Sure, Spider-Man is pretty down-to-earth. But if he was going to be flamboyant, wouldn't Pride be the perfect time for him to do it?"

Confidence surged through Peter's veins. "Yeah. You're right."

MJ rolled her eyes, smirking. "Of course I am."

xXx

Tony stared down in disbelief at the picture in his hands. "Parker, you want me to do what to the Iron Spider suit?"

Peter beamed at him. "Just follow the picture. You're the best Mr. Stark! Okay bye now."

Tony sighed as his intern dashed out of the building. "That kid is going to be the death of me."

xXx

"How's the suit?" MJ asked, popping her gum.

Peter smirked, gesturing to the watch on his wrist. "It's ready whenever. And can I say that it looks cool as hell?"

"Of course it does. I designed it."

"I can't wait," Ned added. "You're gonna look so badass, Peter."

Peter laughed. "Well, I don't know about that."

Pride was in full swing around them. Both Peter and MJ had bisexual flags painted on their cheeks, and Ned had a classic rainbow. Peter also had his bisexual flag tied around his neck, and MJ had an ace flag tied in the same way. Ned had turned down wearing a flag as a cape, instead choosing to wear a long-sleeved black shirt with rainbow patches running down the arms.

Time flew by. The trio marched for over an hour, maybe two, before breaking off to go to a drag queen comedy performance, then went to lunch together.

"So there's a concert in about thirty minutes," MJ said as they were leaving the restaurant. "Want to go to that?"

Peter shrugged. "I'm down with whatever."

"As long as it doesn't last too late in the afternoon," Ned pointed out. "Spider-Man is planned for what - 4ish?"

Peter laughed. "Don't worry, Ned. I'm watching the clock." His heart was racing, and he wasn't sure if that was from nerves or from excitement - either way, he couldn't wait.

The concert itself was decent. Peter thought he might have enjoyed it better had he actually known who the band was. Not to mention he was distracted, glancing at his watch so often he couldn't truthfully say he was paying attention. He a made a mental note to look into more of the band's albums later.

"Hey, Peter," MJ said, smirking at him. "It's 4 o'clock."

Peter rolled his eyes. "You guys are really living for this, aren't you?"

"Duh," Ned said, beaming. "Do it, dude!"

Peter laughed. "Alright, alright." He ducked into an empty alleyway - how fitting that the concert had been so close to one. Apparently the universe was rooting for Spider-Man to show some pride.

After making sure no one was around him, Peter crouched behind a dumpster and tapped at his watch. Within seconds the Iron Spider suit rolled out and covered him. He blinked for a moment to adjust to his sharper vision.

Peter then shot a few webs at the side of the building in front of him, getting a running start before swinging up onto the top of it.

He looked down at the crowd below him. The bright colors of a hundred LGBT+ flags filled him with elation and immense confidence. He'd never be able to replicate that feeling.

Peter shot a web at a pole near the crowd, swinging down and around so that he landed on top of it.

"Hey! New York Pride!" he shouted. His suit magnified his voice. A quick glance at his arm revealed that the suit was doing exactly what it was supposed to do - shift through the colors of as many pride flags as possible. "Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is here to remind you that you should never be ashamed of who you are! You are all amazing, beautiful, inspiring people. If it weren't for you guys, then I'd never have been able to feel comfortable expressing myself." As if on cue, the wind picked up, causing his bisexual cape to flutter behind him. "I'm able to be who I am because of this city. Thank you, New York!"

The crowd started cheering, and Peter swung down into the middle of it, managing to hold short conversations with various people before being whisked off to talk with someone else.

He ended up in front of a young boy who had the trans flag painted on both of his cheeks and a pan flag tied around his neck.

"H-Hi," the boy stammered. "I love you, Spider-Man! You're my favorite hero!"

Peter smiled at the kid. He looked to be maybe around 13 or 14. "I'm flattered. Have you been having fun today?"

The kid didn't answer, instead staring intensely at Peter. Finally he blurted out, "Thank you for saving me!"

Peter blinked. "Saving you?"

The boy nodded. "Y-Yes! A few nights ago, my stepfather, he - he kicked me out of the house, and he followed me away, and he... He started hitting me, but then - then you showed up and you saved me!"

Peter was thankful his mask hid his shocked expression. He remembered that encounter all too well. "That was you?"

"Yes. And I live with my aunt now so everything is okay but I just - I just wanted to say thank you."

Peter almost asked why the boy's stepfather had kicked him out, but given that the trans flags on his cheeks were streaked with tears... That told Peter everything he needed to know.

"Hey," Peter said, placing his hands on the kid's shoulders. "I want you to know that you should always be proud of who you are, okay? No matter what anyone tries to tell you, your identity is beautiful." He winked at the boy. "Remember, Spider-Man will always be on your side."

It was no coincidence, Peter figured, that at that moment his suit shifted from the colors of the trans flag to the pan one.

He said goodbye to the boy before swinging up and out of the crowd, high fiving people as he went.

Pride.

It was a funny word, really.

Pride meant a mixture of confidence in oneself and trust in others.

And in that moment, Peter had never been prouder.

xXx

Mr. Stark: quite a stunt you pulled at NY pride today, Mr. Parker

Peter: lol sorry i didn't tell you that was what the suit was for

Mr. Stark: first of all, it was so obvious that was what the suit was for. second, why didn't you tell me? did you think I'd disapprove? kid you know I've been out since the 90s

Peter: I was worried you might think it was too flamboyant for a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man

Mr. Stark: there's no such thing as being too flamboyant. I made a few modifications to my own armor for a trip I myself plan on making to pride tomorrow

Peter: what?! without me, Mr. Stark? how could you

Mr. Stark: Pete. I never said you couldn't go with me

Peter: so I'm invited?!

Mr. Stark: whatever you want, kid

Peter: yesssss tomorrow is gonna be awesome

Mr. Stark: uh huh. Sure.

Peter: :D

Mr. Stark: hey, kid?

Peter: yeah?

Mr. Stark: I'm proud of you. You know that, right?

A single tear fell onto the screen of Peter's phone. Maybe of happiness. Maybe of thanks. Maybe even just of sentiment.

Peter: thank you, sir.

Mr. Stark: but don't get used to the compliments

Mr. Stark: i have a reputation to maintain

Peter: sure, Mr. Stark. sure

Peter put his phone on his dresser, falling backwards onto his bed. The day had been perfect. Even if he had chickened out yet again in confessing his feelings to MJ. But that was okay.

At least he'd made Mr. Stark proud.

Huh.

Peter chuckled to himself.

Maybe he should pull flamboyant stunts more often.

xXx

Thank you for requesting this! Other drabbles probably (for my sake lol) will not be this long. If anyone else wants to send a request, please feel free to do so. Again, thank you for reading!

[wydmariana]

well hellooooo beautiful people !!  my name’s dani, i’m one of the admins on the main! i’m 20, i’m from toronto & i also play the hailey fc alanna !! i’m so fkn excited to have wealthy back up & running and to bring my baby mariana back ! she’s the same old girl and if you don’t know anything about her...everything u need is under the read more ! i rly need all the connections rn so like this & i’ll hit you up for plots !!!!

❛ new york’s very own mariana cavello was spotted on broadway street in  christian louboutin’s. your resemblance to selena gomez is unreal. according to tmz, you just had your twenty-third birthday bash. while living in new york, you’ve been labeled as being reticent, but also quixotic. i guess being a gemini explains that. three things that would paint a better picture of you would be fishnets, tequila shots, notebooks filled with lyrics. & ( cisfemale & she/her ) + ( dani, 20, she/her, est )

☇   ❪    ˚･ﾟ ❛ STATISTICS :

full name: mariana marisol cavello

nickname(s): mari

age: twenty three

date of birth: june 4th

hometown: new york city

current location: upper east side, new york city

ethnicity: half mexican

nationality: american

gender: cisfemale

pronouns: she/her

parents names: tanner hastings, liliana cavello

orientation: pansexual but she doesn’t like labels

religion: grew up catholic, undecided

political affiliation: democrat

occupation: singer/songwriter

living arrangements: lives in her own mansion in the upper east side

language(s) spoken: english, spanish

accent: american

face claim: selena gomez

hair colour: x (most basic/accurate/but it changes)

eye colour: brown

height: 5″5

weight: 120lbs

build: petite

tattoos: mostly selena’s canon, but x instead of the music note

piercings: x (both ears)

drugs/alcohol/sex: yes/yes/yes

pets: one cat, 5 years old, named sergio - x

astrological chart: gemini sun, cancer moon, scorpio rising

☇   ❪    ˚･ﾟ ❛  BACKSTORY/CURRENT :

mariana was born to tanner cavello (famous hotel owner, entrepreneur, multimillionaire, been on forbes, think bart bass) & lilliana cavello (hispanic model/socialite)

her parents marriage was very much settling, the two of them cared about each other & were excited to start their life together in effort to please their parents and keep their images pristine

they were quick to fall out of love though, if you could say they were even ever in it

once mariana and her brother became teenagers, their dad started having affairs with his employes, the hot, young ones of course. & their mom found out, but confided in a 16 year old mariana about her father’s actions

( sexual abuse tw ) this infuriated mariana, especially considering the hours she would spend waiting outside her father’s office doing homework while his business partners molested her in the empty conference room starting at the age of 14

she never told anyone about it, although she knew her father had known the whole time, remembering how many times he’d interrupt it by summoning his partners for work or a meeting

mariana began absolutely hating her father, while still yearning for his approval, & this went on for 4 years until she turned 18 and got revenge by sleeping with one of her dad’s business partners & allowing his wife to find out

so his wife threatened to tell the media about this little scandal, unless mari’s dad paid them off, which is exactly what he did but not before taking his anger out on mariana & blaming her for the whole mess

she has barely talked to her dad since & moved out right as that whole situation went down. she does her best to avoid family gatherings, doesn’t visit the house to see her parents too often. she does have weekly phone calls with her mom & tries to see her as often as she can, no matter how much she resents her

she got into the party scene around 17/18 as well, and became new york’s resident “wild child rich kid/socialite” in her teen years, so she has that reputation in the media still to this day

her parents have been rich as fuck since the day she was born, so she’s definitely a spoiled brat, never worked a day in her life, had daddy’s credit card whenever she needed it

music had always been a passion of hers though, being her favorite class in school(on days when she would actually attend)

so when she was 20, she started getting back into writing, sold a couple of her songs to artists like zendaya, the weeknd, etc

when she turned 21 she released her first single & album within the same year, began touring, and got to the top of the charts almost right away & gained a huge fanbase, whom she loves

she’s now 23 and has two studio albums out !! she’s v successful and happy w her music <3 she releases things very sporadically & im probs gonna  release random selena songs along with other voice claims maybe IDKDKKD hope yall dont mind  my  messy ass kskffsk

she works hard though, & loves writing and releasing music now and never wants to stop. it’s truly the thing that makes her most happy in the entire world and keeps her sane

☇   ❪    ˚･ﾟ ❛  PERSONALITY  :

mariana can be a brat, to put it simply. she thinks she’s always right about everything & it’s rare you’re ever gonna get an apology from her when she’s done something wrong (unless she really cares about you which….)

she’s lowkey a softie, bc of her cancer moon tbh. she tends to get herself into relationships and then mess them up for the sake of it or because she stops trusting herself to be in the relationship at all

but when she loves someone, she LOVES them, like w every fibre in her body u know?

and she cares fiercely about people, it ends up being a problem for her a lot of the time

she hasn’t worked through her trauma & probably never will, she bottles that shit up tight & doesn’t let anybody know it’s there. the only way she’s ever opening up is if she’s writing, cause she wants that shit to be real

but she’s still gonna hoe it up, catch her in the club trying to get some dick for the night, u know what i mean?

super depressed if we’re being real here. she’s sad, and she has abandonment issues because of her dad. so her mindset is- there’s no forming attachments, because everyone leaves me anyway

( drugs tw ) she loves cocaine, is most definitely an addict (but who isn’t in this city), tequila is her alcohol of choice, but she’ll drink anything you give her & weed is her creative saving grace

she started popping pain pills on her 21st birthday, opioids occasionally & mostly xanax, stuff like that, is most definitely also addicted to those

we love a bitch who doesn’t care about her health!

her management team frowns upon it, but she does smoke cigarettes pretty often, but mostly only when she’s stressed

mariana’s the type of bitch to call the paparazzi on herself, she loves attention. but with her music career now it’s been 10x harder for her to keep her life private, not that she cares. but at least she doesn’t have to call the paps on herself anymore lol

she thinks it’s important to treat people w kindness and respect, but no doubt she’ll be ready to fight a b*tch if she has to…

catch her at any protest that involves saying “fuck you trump”

her instagram is a big mix of stories of her cat, dumb selfies, ig model posts, her friends, career stuff & political posts. she’s very active on the gram & snapchat lol

honestly thank U for reading this trash if u didnt…i understand. catch her pinterest board for more here & i have a wanted connections page here ! ok bye i love u, plot w me <3

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Heeey got some OC asks for ya for Bethie! ^_^ 1, 3, 4, 11, 13, 14, 15, 17, 19, 20

Oh man that’s a lot! I love this, thank you!

1. What six CD’s would your OC keep in their car? Is it just a taste/preference thing, or do any of them have particular significance?

Beth would have an Elton John CD for sure, and she of course knows all the words to every song. She would also have some rock CDs, one of which is the Beatles, and Janet Jackson’s Control album (“Control” is the perfect song for her tbh). But she would also have one CD of Mozart, and a CD of Peggy Lee songs. The last two are of more significance—her grandfather enjoyed classical music as well as old music from the early 20th century, and it rubbed off on her a bit.

3. How aesthetically oriented is your OC in their clothing? Their living space? Their general presentation? If their look™️ is mismatched, is that on purpose?

To be honest, Beth doesn’t strike me as the type to be very aesthetically oriented, at least not too on purpose. She’s a little aesthetically oriented, mostly in what she wears.

4. What one word would you use to describe your OC’s vibe?

Prepared. Because this means many things: prepared to kill you, prepared to hit you, prepared to comfort, prepared to defend her loved ones, etc.

11. What plant, animal, and color does your OC feel like today?

Okay, so these are what immediately came to mind when I thought of Beth; I didn’t really go into depth about it.

Plant – daisy

Animal – bear

Color – purple

13. Does your OC thrift? Buy designer? Where would they shop irl?

Beth thrifts, at first out of necessity, as when she left New York she didn’t have a lot of money, but then just out of habit. Sometimes she’ll browse boutiques. I would say Beth would shop at JC Penny or Macy’s, and Sears if it was still open.

14. Is your OC superstitious? If so, what superstitions do they believe? If not, what do they think of superstitious people?

Although other members of her family, being the Catholics they are, would scoff at superstitious people, Beth’s more accepting. She does think some of it’s kind of ridiculous, but she keeps that to herself.

She herself isn’t very superstitious. She does, however, refuse point-blank to walk under ladders. Because the last time she walked under a ladder, Vinnie left the next day.

15. Is your OC religious? Do they want to be? Have they ever been at some time in the past? How complicated is their relationships with worship/the gods/the church/etc?

When Beth left New York, out of habit she still went to Sunday mass, because that’s what her family did every single Sunday for the past seventeen years of her life. Seven years later, she attends church very sporadically, usually only when her depression flares up and she needs some kind of guidance. She’s not a hardcore devout Catholic, but she’s still kind of religious. She really has no problem with going to church or the church itself, as long as she can approach it on her own terms. The church is also really the only place she’s willing to turn to when she needs guidance.

17. What’s their go-to parlor trick? Are they actually that good at it, or do they just enjoy it? Do people tell them they’re good, even if they aren’t? How do they handle criticism?

Beth likes card tricks mostly. Most of what she can do is shuffle cards in complex ways, but she enjoys witnessing card tricks as well. And yes, she is pretty good at it. She did a complex shuffle for Vinnie once, and he just stared in amazement. She can accept criticism, as long as it’s obviously constructive. If it’s clearly meant to insult her, she’ll immediately fire back an insult of her own.

19. Favorite comfort food? Do they enjoy junk food or are they more of a foodie? Can they cook? What’s their favorite thing to cook?

Pfft, Beth’s Italian, of course she can cook XD Her favorite thing to cook when she gets the chance is the chicken milano recipe her nana taught her. She does enjoy junk food, but mostly sticks with ice cream.

20. Any major theme(s) or conflict(s) in your OC’s life? How have they dealt with that? Are they aware of it, or do they ignore it? Did you design them with such theme(s)/conflict(s) in mind, or did they evolve naturally?

Beth’s grandfather was the head of a mob family back in New York. However, while most Italian mafia families are very patriarchal, Beth’s grandfather decided to involve his granddaughter a bit more. So Beth grew up a bit different from other female members of mafia families, in that she knew a few intimate details. This and other parts of her home life resulted in depression and strain on her mental health. She also has ghosts of abandonment issues from when Vinnie ran away, because her cousin was the only family member she felt truly close to.

Beth’s aware that something is wrong with her, because there has to be some reason why she feels depressed and not in control constantly, but that’s about as far as she is. She grew up in a very traditional household, meaning any issues a person might be feeling were ignored and never addressed; and if they were, the advice given was either to ignore it or to grow up and stop being whiny. Most of her methods of dealing with it, as mentioned above, involve her going to church. She’ll go to confession and just talk, or sometimes she’ll simply sit quietly in a pew and think.

When I created Beth, I did intend for her to be like this, although my idea started out much simpler.