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hlupdate · 4 years ago

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In a never-before-published 2012 interview, Harry Styles and Niall Horan talk about their childhoods, the future of One Direction, and much more

In the spring of 2012, I spent a few entertaining days hanging out with the five young members of a British boy band who were just breaking big in the United States. The guys from One Direction were unjaded, unguarded, totally charming, and a puppy pile of optimism and energy. On April 8th, in a New York City hotel room, an 18-year-old Harry Styles and 16-year-old Niall Horan sat down with me for a joint interview, published here for the first time. (The reporting was intended for a Rolling Stone cover story that never ran.)

It was late morning, and they had both just rolled out of bed. Styles wore a hotel bathrobe; Horan, with braces still on his teeth, was in sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a Dallas Mavericks hat a fan had given him during a recent trip to Texas. The conversation was casual, full of laughs, and focused on their formative years.

What did you do at the gym last night? Harry: One of our security guys, his friend’s over, he’s a personal trainer, so I was working with him, and he ripped me to shreds.

In 12 hours, you have to do Saturday Night Live. Are you ready? Harry: Yeah, I think so. I think it’s going to be a fun day. It’s just really exciting, obviously. The show is so huge. For us to get the opportunity to be on it at all was just amazing, and to us, to be performing and just be involved with the show is amazing.

Have you seen whole episodes of it? Harry: I’ve watched a lot of clips on YouTube. They don’t show it in the U.K.

Growing up, when did you realize you could sing or that you wanted to sing? Harry: I sang in primary school, like the school productions, plays and stuff.

What was your first one? Harry: The first one was…I was five, and there was a story about a mouse who lived in a church, and I was Barney, the mouse. I had to wear my sister’s tights, and a headband with ears on it, and I had to sing a song all by myself. I remember it was just like, whatever…in the second, I was Buzz Lightyear in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, so you know when they run and hide in the toy shop? Buzz Lightyear was in the toy shop, so they just created my character. The last one, I was in…you know Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat? I was the pharaoh, but I was an Elvis pharaoh.

Did you have a sense that this is what you wanted to do in your life? Harry: I think in school, I was OK, I wasn’t a bad student. I think I just knew I wanted to entertain people and stuff. I was a bit of an attention-seeker at school.

Niall: Me, too. I just talked too much, sang too much.

You were onstage as a kid and were like, “This is what I like”? Harry: I knew it was fun, I had a lot of fun doing it, and I stopped when I started high school, and then I didn’t really do anything, I just sang at home, in the shower, in your bedroom, that type of thing. I guess it started again when my friends were in a band and they wanted to do this battle of the bands competition that was at school, and they needed a singer, and one of my friends asked me.

What did you sing? Harry: We sang “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” by Jet, and “Summer of ’69.” We did it more towards the Bowling For Soup version.

How about you, Niall? Niall: I always knew I wanted to sing. I was academic…I was one of those people that if I’m not interested in something, I don’t really care. If I’m not interested in school, I would have never trained or done my homework or anything, I’d have just gone outside and played football or whatever.

Harry: [helpfully translating] Soccer.

Niall: So I always wanted to sing. I was singing here and there, not gigs or anything, but I always sang around the house or whatever, and I played Oliver in a school play. And then I just did that, and people told me I should do something…I was only 10, what could I do at 10? I just did a couple of gigs, and when I got to high school, they told me that I should just try out for The X-Factor.

Who told you? Niall: My French teacher. We used to do talent shows and stuff at school, she was like, “You should do it,” so I did it.

What did that entail? What were the steps from being a kid in high school to getting on the show? Niall: It was the final of The X-Factor the year before, and at the end credits of the final, it says, “If you want to apply for 2010, go online,” so a couple of weeks later, I said, “Right, I’m going to do it,” and I filled in the form online, we were sending emails back and forth, going to this place at this time. The first one is at a big stadium, then if you get through that, you come back the next day. Is that the way they did it with you?

Harry: I had to wait a little bit, I think.

Niall: I was there at five a.m., I got seen at 12, and I was out of there by quarter past 12, and the next day I came back at 10 in the morning. You get through the first round, then they do a round where they don’t tell you if you got through after that.

Harry: They film it.

Niall: The producer and someone from the label. They film it and show it to whoever. Then if you got through that, it takes about two or three weeks until you find out. I was in Spain. Then you just go through the audition.

Harry, how did you wind up on X-Factor? Harry: I basically said, the same as Niall, I was watching the year before, and I remember looking at the young guys on there, and I was kind of like, “I’d love to have a go at it just to see what happens,” and that was kind of it. My mum actually did the application, and then three weeks later, I walked upstairs and she said, “Oh, you’ve got your X-Factor audition Sunday,” and I was like, “OK.”

Niall: In England, it’s the biggest thing ever. It took a while to build.

Harry: The two or three years were steady, and third or fourth, it just blew up.

Niall: It works that one in three people in the UK watch it. There’s 60 million people in the UK, and 21 million people watched the final the year we were in it.

Harry, your band also played at least one wedding right? Harry: Yeah. We actually said that we’d do the wedding gig, and…

Niall: You get paid for it?

Harry: Yeah. 160 quid, between all four of us. 40 quid each…we said we’d do it, and then we found out it was the weekend coming up, and we hadn’t done anything for it, so we asked the bride what kind of stuff she wanted, and she said she didn’t mind, but she wanted some Bob Marley songs. Literally in three days, not even three, probably two days, we learned like 25 songs. We might have known like three of them before. I was 16, maybe 15, singing these Bob Marley songs. There was a girl a couple of years below us, and it was her mum, she said she wanted us to play.

Niall: Can you imagine you’re at a wedding and you have 16-year-old kids up on the stage?

Maybe you were really good! Harry: Yeah, the drummer is one of my best friends from school, he’s a sick drummer, he’s so good.

Did you think the band could be something? Harry: A bit. My friend’s mum was a radio presenter, and she did a radio show for a bit, so she was trying to sort us out a little bit of studio time, we were going to go in and record.

What do your parents do? Harry: My mum is a PA. My dad is a financial adviser.

How about you? Niall: My dad works at a supermarket, he’s the head manager, general manager of an area, not just one, and my mum is unemployed now, so I try to help them out whenever I can.

You probably can. That must be nice. Niall: Yeah, it’s nice, it’s good.

Plus, now you can tell them what to do. Harry: [laughs] “Now you go to bed.”

Were you happy as kids? Did you have adolescent angst and stuff? Did you go through depressed periods? Harry: Not really. I think at one point, I started acting like I was…I had a phase of listening to really heavy music.

Niall: I never went through that.

Harry: Not stupid heavy, but a bit… just because I thought it was cool.

Like what? Harry: Like Nirvana T-shirts, wore black all the time, pretty much.

Were you pretty happy go-lucky? Niall: Yeah, I was always happy. I think me and Harry were lucky. Our parents got divorced quite early, didn’t they, when we were really young. I was four, I didn’t know much, so I was always a happy kid, always up for a laugh, very carefree, and I’m a bit like that now.

Did you both grow up in your moms’ houses? Harry: Yeah.

Niall: I went between both, my mum moved to the country and I didn’t have any interest in it. I always felt like the country is for when you’re older. I was with my mom for a while but got bored, all my friends were in town, I went to school in town and all that stuff. It was more like that.

Harry: I lived with both parents, and then moved with my mum, and we owned a pub for like five years. I remember the first night, it was like a night where a band was playing, and I just thought, “How am I going to get to sleep?” I was three stories up, I was like, “How am I going to get to sleep with this noise?” I was next to a road in Sussex in the middle of nowhere, and by the end, I could fall asleep next to the band, I was so used to the noise.

Was it imprinting your brain? Harry: Maybe. One of the guys who used to play every so often, he used to be in Deep Purple or something… He started teaching me guitar when I was like 10, I think 10, maybe nine. I loved it. I was 10, 11, all of the regulars, I got on with them. I’d walk behind the bar and my head would barely go over the bar. It’s still going now. We sold it to my best friend, we go in all the time still.

People say you come off as more mature than your age, you come off wiser. Did hanging around all those people as a kid help you mature?

Harry: I don’t know, maybe. I moved when I was seven or eight from Cheshire, and it was still Cheshire, but half an hour away, but in terms of not driving and stuff, all my friends lived near my school, so that was a bit further out. One of my friends there was my sister’s age, he was 16 when I was 10. It was so tiny, they were the only teenage boys…we’d ride our bikes and go to the driving range and stuff. It was good, it was fun.

You both wanted to entertain – if it hadn’t worked out, would you have been really unhappy? Harry: Yeah, I think it would be kind of like…one of the reasons you go for X-Factor in the first place is that you want to do this, and it kind of helps you get out of the life that you were doing before. I worked in a bakery for two years. Obviously, I didn’t want to do that for ages!

If you’d asked people at school, would they have said, “Yeah, they’re probably going to be famous,” or would they never have guessed that? Niall: My aunt, I was in the back of her car. We used to go across Ireland to go to the beach for a couple of weeks, and I remember we were in the car, I was singing, and she thought I was the radio, and she told me, I never forgot it, that she thought I was going to be famous since I was six, seven. She was the only person who told me that, so I always remembered that.

Harry: My dad said it. I used to listen to a lot of the music he was playing, he’d play Elvis Presley to death, the Stones, I’d sing along to that and he’d say, “You’re going to be famous,” or whatever. He came on tour with us for a few days out here, he came to the Radio City show. He just said, for him, it was so educational. Obviously, he hears about what happens when I call him, but to see it and see it actually happen and how everything works was so good for him, he really enjoyed it. So that was nice.

So you grew up on Elvis and the Stones? Harry: Yeah, pretty much. My dad was a massive Stones fan, so it was pretty much Beatles and Stones in terms of what my dad played.

People say you kind of look like Mick.

Niall: He gets that a lot.

Harry: I get it more here, probably, than I do at home. It’s because of the British thing.

What have you learned about life from the last few years, what didn’t you know? What advice would you give yourself? Niall: How much more independent we actually are – me, anyway. Your mum attends to your every need and does your food and washing and gives you somewhere to live. Then you go into the real world, as you’re told as a kid…

Harry: We’re living on our own now.

Niall: We just started living on our own in the last six months, really.

Harry: I’m moving when I get back.

Niall: We do our own washing, we make our own food, we rent places, we’re out on our own now. You mature so quick, you’re dealing with big businessmen every day, you’re not dealing with school, people your own age. It’s a bit different.

Harry: You seem to learn so many life lessons, but in such a short space of time. If I speak to my friends and they’re having problems with girls, whatever it is, now I seem to just have the answer. I don’t know, it’s just different. Or I think I have the answer. In terms of…one of my friends was trying to decide what to do with school, stuff like that, and I would have had no idea what to say to him before.

The last two years must feel like 10. Harry: Yeah, but at the same time, it feels like six months, it’s weird. X-Factor was two years ago, but it seems like five years ago, but at the same time, it’s gone so quick. It’s a really strange dynamic of how it feels.

Do you have a sense of how this is going to go? Does it matter if it’s two years, five years or forever? Harry: I think how much we all enjoy it, because we love what we do – if you have to call it a job, it’s an incredible job to have, and we love it. We’ll all want to do it for as long as possible. If we have the opportunity to have a Take That kind of career, I don’t see any reason why we wouldn’t want to do that. If we don’t, I don’t know…we’ve done some amazing things already, but we don’t want to stop there, we want to keep going. I guess if we didn’t, I think we’d probably want to still be involved in…I’d just write, I guess.

Do you want to act? It feels like you could have your own TV show. Harry: I think it would be more of a documentary, because obviously, we’re not actors.

People must want you to try. Niall: Watch tonight, tell us what you think. Watch SNL.

Will you all make solo albums? Is that inevitable? Harry: No, I don’t think so.

Niall: Let’s do a swing album!

Harry: [laughs] We’ll all do swing albums. We’re just so focused on this, we all feel so lucky just to be part of this opportunity that we’ve all been given, it’s incredible, we’re just loving it. It’s sick.

People make a lot of assumptions about people in your position. They think you’re puppets and do what you’re told. What do you do when people make those assumptions? Harry: When you look from the outside, especially if you’re a skeptic of groups made through TV shows, which is fair enough, people don’t see what we do on a daily basis, people don’t see…I think from the outside, it looks so glamorous, they see us do TV performances every now and again, see us doing an interview every now and again, but they don’t know that we work seven days a week.

Niall: If there was eight days, we’d fit it in.

Harry: It’s not as completely glamorous all the time, of course it’s not, it would be stupid to think that it would be, but it’s hard work.

Niall: You’ve got to remember that you’ve got people on your team that have been doing this for many years and have been through the mill. You have all that experience around you, even from our tour manager, who’s been doing this for 20 years, they know what’s right, but at the same time, we want to have creative control, because at the end of the day, it’s us stepping out onto the stage of SNL tonight and have to sing these songs. We want to be singing what we enjoy, as we said last night. The music we all listen to is what we try and blend together to make this One Direction sound.

Harry: We obviously want to make it authentic and have our say without going, “People say we don’t control it, so we need to take control.” We’re not…we haven’t been writing songs for 20 years, we’re not producers. We’ve got an incredible team around us. Luckily, we’ve been given a lot of freedom, so we don’t go, “OK, we just need more and more control,” because we have a lot of control already. I think we find a really good balance in the way we work with our record label and our management, and it’s just how we work together, I think.

In any case, it’s probably better than the bakery. Harry: Yeah. But I don’t get a nice bun on my break anymore, that’s the thing.

Did you wear an apron? Harry: Oh yeah, I wore a white polo shirt and a maroon apron with white stripes. “What would you like? 78 pence, thank you very much.”

Were you behind the counter? Harry: Yeah, I was behind the counter. It was good. It was Saturday morning, I started at five and finished at four in the afternoon and got like 30 quid, it was a joke.

Niall, did you have a job? Niall: No, never.

So this is your first job. Niall: Yeah, not bad at all. I was chilling, I was being a kid.

Harry: I had a paper route before that. It gave me a bad back, bad posture. It was a heavy bag.

I interviewed some fans downstairs, and asked if they knew who you were six months ago, and they all said yes, and a year ago…They were all early adopters, heard you from the Internet, watched X Factor on YouTube… Harry: It’s the internet. People have friends over here that might tell their friends and look on YouTube and show their friends. It’s insane how it’s blown up. We’ve had the opportunity to come over to America and do shows, and release our music over here, which is amazing. Through the power of social media, we already had a bit of a following before we’d ever been over here, we hadn’t done any shows. We had some fans out here, which was amazing, but weird, really strange. I don’t know, it’s gone crazy. We don’t really see loads of it. We do the shows, then we’re in hotels, then we fly somewhere else. We don’t see massive amounts of it, we just go with it. This whole thing has gone on, and it’s sick.

Do you ever feel anxious through all this? Harry: Yeah, I think, obviously, just naturally, you think about what’s going to happen in the future. We’re 18, 19, 20 years old, we’re young. I wouldn’t say anxious, we’re just excited most of the time, and having so much fun, that if stuff were to finish and you were to look back on your time and all you did the whole time throughout this amazing stuff was shitting yourself about what’s going to happen next, then it would just be…I think you have to enjoy it while it’s going on. I think you should be wary about the future, but not worrying about it all the time. We still enjoy it and have fun, but obviously, you do think, “What am I going to be doing in 20 years, 30 year?” I’ll have kids by then.

Harry, I saw a tabloid with pictures of everyone smiling, and you were looking thoughtful. Do you get down sometimes? While everyone else is having fun, do you start drifting off? Harry: No, I think I’m naturally…not everyone is happy all of the time. I think you always have times when…like when you’ve just landed off a really long flight or miss home or something. They got a picture of me where I wasn’t smiling. I usually smile, but they got one where I wasn’t smiling and used that, and then said I wasn’t happy. They did that for a few days, that’s when we were in L.A. last time. It goes with the morbid voice.

Ringo would say, “It’s just me face.” Niall: “Who’s that little old man?” [quoting Hard Day’s Night]

Harry: “That’s Paul’s grandfather. He’s very clean.”

Sometimes you can drift off, that’s just your thing. Harry: [laughs] I’m just soulful, man, I try.

Harry, do you mind when you’re singled out for attention? Harry: I don’t know. I don’t really…I don’t know. We’re a band. Everything we do is together. I don’t take much notice of it.

So you’re not the Justin. Harry: No.

Niall: J.C. was popular, too, wasn’t he?

It’s not like that for you guys. Harry: Not at all.

There was an imbalance in that group. Harry: I think we find it important that people get to know all of our individual personalities, because…

Niall: I think that’s what’s good about it, people see us as individuals as well as a band, we all have our own personality, and we all give something to a band. Previous bands, they go around and can never explain themselves, they can explain the band, but as individuals, what we bring to the band and stuff…

Harry: We all know that we all have our roles, and we all know that without one of us, it wouldn’t work.

#harry styles #niall horan #one direction #230720 #1d ten

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kth1 · 5 years ago

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Atmosphere [Namjoon x Reader]

Atmosphere [Namjoon x Reader] ⟶ Credits: @kimtaehyunq ⟶ Genre: Smut | 21+ | Celebrity/Boyfriend AU | One Shot ⟶ Warnings: strong/mature theme, adult content, language, titty play, we remembered the condom this time, slight angst, slight dom elements, more fluff, a bit of overstimulation, soft and cute ending, etc ⟶ WC: 8.2k+ ⟶ Summary: Namjoon and you have been dating for a few years now, fully aware of the worries a relationship with a celebrity would be like. One night you spoke up, showing a bit of jealously after him coming back home from a promotional trip across seas. You didn’t mean to slip up, you didn’t want to taint the air with insecurities, but you lost your composure. Don’t worry, you guys figure it out. ⟶ Teaser: “Namjoon can read you like a book, knew exactly what to do when to do it. He fully enjoyed the way your body reacted to him, how simple of a task for him to pleasure you in this way. Your cries from pleasure giving him excitement that he was treating you the way you deserve.” ⟶ Author’s note: Finally, I didn’t write a story in first-person. I caught myself several times having to fix my context of wording, but I did it for you! I had this story in mind for a while, but it felt difficult to tie together. It came out softer, cuter than I anticipated. Please let me know for any grammar mistakes! Enjoy! 🐾

You ran into your bedroom and slammed the door behind you, locking it immediately. Namjoon’s footsteps were sounding nearer, quickly making their way towards the room. You slumped your body against the door, pushing your back up against it to create more of a barricade and prevent Joon from entering. He tried jiggling the doorknob, noting that it resisted the turn. Leaning up against the carved piece of mahogany wood that separated the both of you he spoke, “Babe?”

He groans, hearing silence from the other end but knowing you were obviously holding yourself captive inside the shared room. Your eyes were watery, hands in fists and completely vibrating with rage. You were livid, mad at every negative thought that crossed your mind and… more upset with yourself more than anything. You overreacted and didn’t know how to handle yourself.

“Y/n… Just open the door. Talk to me.” He sighed. Namjoon’s knuckles tapping at the door slowly, the sound echoing thought the silence between the two of you. The agonizing noise banging against the labored wood filling your eardrums. Tears slowly escaping the crease of your eyes, you sniffled as you plucked at pieces of the carpet below you.

“Baaaabe!” he repeated, drawing out the sound of the vowels. You can hear the annoyance in the tone of his voice, he was one to maintain his calm and collect himself well especially during intense situations. But he’s still human. There are times where he really can’t handle all the stress and he cracks.

“Joon, leave me alone!” you choked out, voice cracking. You couldn’t help your voice from shaking, the emotions packing into your body were too overwhelming for you to contain.

“Just open the door, please.” There was no light to his voice. Joon’s patience running terribly thin. He’s trying to confront the situation. Trying to figure out what got you so riled up and darting away from the kitchen table. Sharing a delicious meal between the two of you, was it something he said?

Water filled up the clear glass before you, swishing the three single ice cubes as the cup filled up with liquid. Namjoon’s soft features content as he placed the pitcher off to the side, out of the way of the rest of the silverware. You smiled, showing gratitude and nodding a quick ‘thank you’ with a subtle gesture.

“Thank you for making dinner, it looks great!” You beamed a grin to him. Scanning over at the plates in front, figuring out what portions and pieces you want to grab. Joon nodded, dimple creasing in the side of his face as he stares at you in adoration.

He’s been away for a few weeks, taking care of business and working hard. Attending events all over the world to promote his new album. He’s a solo artist, expressing his thoughts and feelings through lyrics and various tunes. Emotions tied to each word that overflowed each song and every song. You were proud of him, releasing his 4th mixtape tilted ‘No Atmosphere’.

He was a hard worker, so dedicated to projects and assignments. There’s nothing wrong with that at all, this is what he loves. What he was made to do. Such a wise, humble, and reliable soul he has. He takes responsibility very seriously – which is a blessing and a burden. Picky, he gets frustrated with himself, overthinking every little detail. He strives to please everyone around him, putting them first, always.

A series of topics spread over the course of your meal, filling each other up with what you’ve missed, sharing news and making plans for future dates. He expressed how much he enjoyed visiting Spain, London, Ireland. Quoting ‘I wish you were there to see this!’ as he scrolled through photos and videos he snapped on his endeavors.

Meanwhile, you were stuck there. In your shared two-story apartment. A place that was generously too large for just the two of you. And much too big for one single person while the other was gone for long trips, multiple times a year. You had your part-time work, your full-time classes for your master’s degree, a few social gatherings from your small friend group. But you always came home to an empty apartment when Joon was gone.

“Hey Joon?” you disrupted his rant. One he didn’t realize he trailed on and on, boasting about how happy he was when visiting a party that honored his album.

He blinked, losing his train of thought and focused his eyes on yours. A soft smile curving up on his lips from hearing your light voice. “Hmm?”

What he didn’t notice was how you stopped eating the food, fiddling with your fork against your plate as you used one of the prongs to kick a small pea around. Scraps of leftovers and uneaten pieces still lay across your plate and you hesitantly spoke up, “What happened back in London?”

Namjoon’s eyebrows raised in worry, his eyes curious and confused at what you were asking. “What about London? I did a lot there?” You could tell Joon went into deep thought, retracing everything he had already mentioned to you and seeing if he possibly forgot anything.

I did a lot there. You shook your head trying to remove that sentence. But it played over and over, like a broken record. Shouldn’t he phrase that answer differently, you thought. Of course, it rolled off his tongue in innocence, but it held weight on to your chest. Your mind circled that sentence because you kept remembering something you had seen, something that was exposed on the internet.

“There was a video, Joon.” You mumbled under your breath, placing the fork down on top of the napkin.

This wasn’t the place to confront Namjoon, not after him prepping this dinner for you. Not when you finally had relaxing time ever since he came back from his promotion trip. Countless interviews and media articles which talked the anticipation of the album. You kept up to date with most of them, following him as he remained contact with you through your personal phones. Confrontation during this time shouldn’t been optimal, but you muttered the sentence. Your curiosity perked up – and there’s no way of brushing it off now.

You assumed Namjoon knew exactly what you were referencing by the way his face slightly dropped. A video. That video. From a bystander from the album release party… seeking social attention, posting a damn video about the continuously rising artist in attempt to cause disturbance and tainting his image. A fucking video that was pixelated, rendered, a copy of a copy, uploaded on twitter; showing what seems to be Namjoon being close, being in an ‘intimate embrace’ with another female. A female that was not you.

It was blurry, the video couldn’t hold much value to the normal eye because it was difficult to make out faces. But anyone with an expert eye, anyone that knew Namjoon, or was a big fan of him, knew that was him in the video. The slicked back hairstyle, the long dark coat that should be considered as a cloak draping over his body, the mask held over his chin and hooked over each ear. Blurry or not, you knew the figure in the video all too well.

“Y/n, it’s not what it looks like.”

“They wrote a lot of stories about that video.” You scoffed. You don’t believe Namjoon would be unfaithful at all, you knew him to be extremely loyal. A lot of stories indeed. And guess what, you read every single one of them. Each wrenching your heart just a bit more, coming up more and more theories inside your head. You swallowed down the tang, the hurtful stories, holding them in the pit of your stomach until you completely word vomit all over Joon. Spilling your insecure thoughts.

“What is it then?”

Joon copied your action, placing his fork down and now reaching across the table to grab your hand. You removed it fast, Joon grabbing at the ghost of your palm as you start to shy yourself away. Staring at him as he let go a sigh.

“It’s nothing. It was taken at an angle –“

“Nothing?!” Your eyebrows shot up, gulping down the buildup of saliva that horded in your mouth. “That ‘nothing’ seemed pretty comfortable to you by the looks of it.” Your snarky remark officially ripped open a wave of hostility between the both of you.

“She was the party director!” He raised his voice in defense, baffled that you two were even having this conversation in the first place. Stunned that you didn’t bring it up earlier. “She scooted closer to me in a group photo – I’m sure you’ve seen the photo online.”

“The video was after the picture was taken, Joon!”

“I didn’t do anything, Y/n. Nothing happened before or after that. Her arm was around me. She was on me. Not the other way around.”

Namjoon sounded more dismissive now. It was clear he was getting fed up with the subject, doesn’t believe he has to prove his clean hands to you. Because he’s done everything for you, you were his girlfriend. His love.

Now – you sit here against the bedroom door. Holding back as many tears as possible as Namjoon desperately tried to enter. The emptied and unoccupied space between you two caused unnerving feelings for you. You got worried, it wasn’t your intention but for some reason you really felt that pang of hurtfulness when you came to the realization that Namjoon could have someone better.

“Y/n!” He shouted.

“You’re mad at me…” You whispered to yourself. How dare you bring something so silly up at the table. Ruining a great meal, the one he planned and set up, you ruined it with your insecurities. You were curious, but the curiosity shot you back in the face. Coming off more anxious and fearful, questioning the loyalty of your boyfriend. You were upset with yourself more than anything. Letting stupid rumored scandals corrupt your mind.

He knocked again. You, being aggravated and worked up at his constant need to get you to open up, hit back at the door in frustration. A sob leaving your mouth.

A loud thump nailed into the other side of the wood you were leaning against, Joon kicking at it and proceeded to yell, “Why are you crying?! Open the fucking door Y/n!”

He sounded scary, something you weren’t used to coming from him. Picturing him with clenched teeth, fists with white knuckles, eyebrows furrowed together. Again, he kicked at the door. The shutter sound making you crawl away from the frame, “Unlock it now!” he spat out.

“Joon, stop! You’re freaking me out,” your breath hitching once the pounding stopped. Silence filling the void of the air. Standing up with trembling hands, taking a slow step towards the door. Joon rested his head against it, hand still around the knob. Exhaling he responded, “Please.”

Your hand froze over the lock, pinching it between your two digits. You gathered yourself together, mustered up the courage to twist the metal piece. Right away Namjoon turned the knob and pushed the door in, forcing you to take a few steps back into your room.

Holding your arms to yourself your head fell, looking at the ground. Namjoon walked up, closing the space between the two of you and wrapped his arms around your body, tight. Taking you in his embrace. Your arms remained crossed, trying to wiggle around in his arms to break free.

“Stop, Y/n.” Namjoon grabbed your head and shoved it against his chest. His hold too sturdy to break away from. He noted that your breathing was erratic, unstable. He was bothered, the conversation struck a nerve but also disturbed you.

Your tears flowed, dripping down your cheeks. “You’re mad at me,” you muffled into his chest. Namjoon swayed back and forth with you in his hold, trying to calm you down. Shushing you and rubbing his large hands on your back. Putting your face into your hands, you cried realizing that what you said, what you were accusing under hidden messages, was a mistake.

“I’m not mad, Y/n. I’m concerned.”

“What are you talking about? You are mad!” You prosecuted Namjoon, hysterical. “You were shouting! You hit the door!” You screamed out, sniffling into your hands.

Joon shuffled the both of you back to the bed, helping you sit down on the edge and he took his place besides you. He stared at your beating red face as he took his thumb and wiped away the stained trails that seeped from the brims of your eyes. “Breathe for a second.”

You leaned your head back and avoided eye contact. Your breathing did calm down after giving yourself time, feeling the warmth of Namjoon’s palm that rested on your cheek. His eyes darted back and forth with yours, pleading to be looked at and trying to read your thoughts from the mannerisms that played across your face.

“I’m just jealous.” Your hands found their way back across your body, acting as a shield, protecting yourself from anymore harm. But the harm you were receiving was from deep within your body. An overbearing ache in your chest.

Namjoon tilted his head after your statement, as if he didn’t understand. He weaved his eyebrows together, frustrated at the thoughts he drew up in his mind. “What? Jealous of what?”

“You go around everywhere. You get to meet and partake in actions with a lot of people… girls… very pretty girls. All these women saying they’re going out with you, or you have models cooing over you.” You continued to rant on. All those rumors and gossip getting to you. Even though Namjoon gave you continuous attention regardless of where he was in the world, you somehow manage to believe in the filthy tabloids.

Joon closed his eyes at your nonsense and shook his head. “Shut up!” He covered your mouth with a quick kiss. A comforting warm kiss, one you craved for after a long day with your nose in the books, hours spent at the part-time job. A greeting kiss, but it was more than just a greeting to you. It welcomed you to another side of Joon. A sensitive side that you only get to see because… well, you’re his girlfriend. You’re special to him.

He slowly pulled away and caught your gaze, “I’m just an ordinary guy, Y/n, nothing is going to change that. Nobody is going to make me different from who I already am. I love you. I don’t love them.” His hand held your chin up to make sure you stayed in view. “I have you and I’m happy with that. Why can’t you see that?”

Doubts portrayed in your thoughts for a few moments. Thinking that he’s just saying these things to make you feel better. Your mind was so clouded with these dirty lies, that you felt self-conscious about yourself. Were you even good enough for Kim Namjoon?

“I-I’m sorry” snuck out of your mouth.

“No. I’m sorry.”

You gave Joon a puzzled look, why is he saying he’s sorry? He wasn’t in the wrong.

“If I was giving you the proper treatment of what a boyfriend should do, you wouldn’t feel this way. Right here, right now.” He leaned in once again and kissed you softly. Hands outlining your face. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him across you and onto the bed. The kiss deepened and his tongue glazed over your slightly parted lips.

“You shouldn’t be sorry at all.” You whispered against his lips, heated breath fanning across his flesh. “You do plenty for me, you’re really generous to me Namjoon. And… I’m so sorry for doubting you for a second.”

Of course, you had an idea of what it’d be like to date someone famous. He’d be much busier than a typical boyfriend, he’d travel further, and gone for periods of time. You were well aware of this, and for a good amount of time it really didn’t bother you. Namjoon always felt like he was holding you back, but he loves you too much to let you go. Far too many conversations like this have come up in the past between the two of you. Between the ‘talking’ stages to the ‘dating’ stages, and now officially together, you two have chatted about the toll of a full on relationship may cost.

But this didn’t stop either of you. Even when you tried taking things slow, seeing how things felt and figuring out if you were suited for this sort of lifestyle, you two gradually connected back to another. Namjoon couldn’t stay away from you for too long, and you were always welcoming him back with open arms. He was loyal to you. You understood him the most and when there were times he couldn’t express himself properly, you were there to help.

Laying down, Joon rested his head on your shoulder and wrapped an arm around your stomach lazily. One of your hands mindlessly toyed around with the strands of his hair as the other found place over his forearm.

“I understand why you felt the way you did; I really do.” He spoke in a sotto voce. “Y/n, I get curious too.”

Joon was referencing that he, himself, thinks about the possibilities of you being influenced by other men. Especially if he’s away, he puts all trust into you, but it doesn’t stop his overthinking mind to wonder. Maybe he wasn’t good enough for you, maybe he was holding you back. He was afraid of tying you down if you weren’t happy with the situation you were in. Namjoon always swallowed his negative thoughts, dismissing them because he rather focus on the future and being happy.

Your grip tightened around him, not knowing what to really say back to him. Feeling guilty in more than one way now. “Joon –“

“I love you, Y/n.”

He remained resting his head on your shoulder with his eyes closed. He casted a soothing and calm aura with how relaxed he became. He doesn’t like a hostile environment and the tiniest of squabbles are typically unnecessary and overreacted. He preferred to just talk it out, communicate with another to know what is really going on.

You kissed the top of his head, sniffing his hair and intaking a fresh vanilla scent. The wisps of hair folding under your fingers as you slightly groomed him. “I love you too, Joon. I really am sorry.”

Joon was happy having you, honestly. You gave him energy, satisfaction and your undivided attention. He never expected you to be as good to him that you already were. He couldn’t ask for more from you, he’s already taking up so much of your commitments and he tries hard to always make it up. Dinners, dates, cute surprise visits, facetime and random texts in the middle of the day when he’s thinking about you. He knew effort and communication were strong keys to hold the two of you together and he always tried his hardest to maintain these.

Again, you had a strong idea on how your relationship with Joon would be like. And you accepted it. You want it because you want him, and that was enough for you to say yes to him after the seventh date together at the aquarium two summers ago. His hands were in the touch tanks, searching around for cute little critters and lightly petting against their various skins. Spotting some fascinating crabs and he described to you how you reminded him of them.

It was playful, he was joking around trying to get you to smile even more that day. But the best thing about that day was when he turned to you, with salted wet hands from the tank he grabbed yours in return and stared deeply into your eyes. Asking if you’d like to take the relationship in seriousness, wanting to be official. At that moment you could care less that your hand was drenched with cold water, you only cared about the tall, handsome man that was holding that hand.

You were content, laying with Joon on your shared bed. Feeling enveloped with love and adoration. Suddenly he leaned up, hobbling himself over you and pecked your nose. He had a spark in his eye, something he tucked away in his mind but now lit up momentarily. He smiled down at you, listening to you giggle, “What?” you questioned.

“Hold on, I have to grab something. Wait right here.” He pointed at you with a finger, warning you to stay put. His grin had a hint of mischievous humor behind it as he got up off the bed, walking out the room and down the stairs towards the kitchen area. You can hear Namjoon rummaging through bags, drawers, you name it. You thought to yourself, what is he even doing out there?

“Joonie?” Your voice rang out loud enough to stretch the area of the house. You sat up, looking around the room but your hearing zoned in on the muffled sounds that were coming from downstairs.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he vocalized with a honeyed tone.

You can hear the patter of his feet, trailing up the steps and patting back into the bedroom. He smiled fondly at you as he entered, walking back over and sitting besides you. He claimed that he was grabbing something, but you didn’t recognize anything being carried in when he returned. You were perplexed to say the least as your eyes searched around.

Namjoon noticed your gaze that scanned in all directions, amusing him on how easily curious you were. His dimple shining bright he raised an eyebrow, “Lookin’ for something?”

Slightly offended, because that question had an obvious answer to it, and you didn’t understand what was going on. You cocked your head to the side, quirking a frown, “Well yeah, you said you were grabbing something?”

He smirked, holding your hand in his as his other hand shoved into his pocket to pull out a Prussian blue box, handing it over to you. He nodded, edging you to open the top.

You swore right then and there your heart stopped beating. You thought your holy spirit drained your body and elevated up to the heavens at the sight of this small thinned cardboard box. Completely unaware of what the contents that lay within it, but your mind went racing straight to one thing. Holy shit, holy shit. This can’t be happening? Like this? It’s so sudden and random? This didn’t feel right.

Your eyebrows raised practically to your hairline, eyes wide and mouth frozen. You hesitantly held the box between your digits, glancing up at Namjoon with a tiny bit of unsettlement in your eyes. You felt your heart in your throat, pounding loudly over the nerves that coursed in your skin.

“Open it.”

The saliva that accumulated in your mouth was swallowed thickly with a gulp, flipping over the lid to the box and seeing a shiny silver object inside. It took you seconds to register the thingamajig, observing that it was some sort of flat, circled charm that had your name, address, and number engraved onto it. You were processing the information in your mind, a small sigh of relief exhaled through your nostrils that it wasn’t something extreme like a ring or anything.

“A… tag?”

“Mhm! I was going to give it to you after dinner, but we never finished our meal.” He chimed in with a playful banter.

“Why a tag?” The gift was random and completely out of the blue. But the gift itself was even more unusual than expected. Not once in your life has someone gifted you a tag with your contact information on it, were you supposed to wear this around a necklace, a keychain perhaps?

Joon takes the charm with the pads of two of his fingers, flipping it over to the other side. “So you can fill out this side with its name!”

Then… it clicked. Oh my. A tag. A dog tag. You two were getting a dog?! You gasped; emotions ran ecstatic through you as you jumped up with joy. “A dog?!”

Delighted that he brought jubilation to you, he stood up holding your arms to help you stop springing off the floor. He chuckled, “Yes! I figured you needed someone to keep you company during the times that I’m not here for you. I know how much you love animals too, so I wanted to ask if you’d like to get one.”

You locked lips with Joon. Throwing your arms around his neck, dropping the box in the process, and pulled him closer to your body. Eagerness racing through your muscles as you leaped yourself off the floor and linking your legs around his waist. He caught you under your thighs, laughing into the kiss as he brought you back to the bed.

He cradled your body, supporting himself on top of you has you leaned back down on the fabric below. Running your hands up and down his arms, he deepened the kiss. Both of you captivated with another and riveting another’s attention to a now quickly heated session.

You tugged on his bottom lip that was more dominate than the top, grazing your teeth on the tinted pink flesh. He inhaled sharply, feeling his heartbeat fasten as his body anticipates upcoming actions. And yours did the same. Namjoon was tender handling you, a more amorous side taking over his persona.

His smooth chap-stick covered lips butterflied across your dried-up cheeks. Stamping warm kisses to your flesh as he trailed down to your jaw and peppering along the column of your neck. This wasn’t some sort of hot n’ heavy, steamy romantic session. He was gentle, he took his time, he was intimate with you. You can feel it in the air, in your bones and most importantly you felt it in your swelling heart.

It was sweet, the warmhearted feeling that took over your body because of Namjoon. Hushed giggles and bashful laughter crowded the room. A fun-loving atmosphere. And you were completely smitten by it all.

“May I take this off?” Hands curled around the material of your shirt slightly lifting it up to the underside of your breasts. Rubbing his thumbs along the bare skin below your bra.

Biting down on your bottom lip, you flashed an excited smile in reply, “As long as I can take yours off.”

Joon looked smug, lifting your shirt up and off your torso. He went to lean down to connect his lips back onto your skin, but you caught him before he could fully commit. Yanking his shirt high up his chest until you couldn’t hoist it any further since his arms where in the way. He laughed at your antic, how cute it was and enthusiastic you were. But he obliged and lifted his arms up for you.

There was no time to waste, Joon sloped back down on you. Pecking his plump lips on your collarbone and down towards the valley between your boobs. Feeling how soft your skin was, lightly nibbling at it. You hummed through your nose, arching your back into Joon’s face, urging him to continue.

One of his manly hands cuffed your left breast as his mouth connected to your right, open mouth kisses and softly sucking at it. You released a tiny moan, enjoying the sensation that was being stimulated on your breasts.

And boy, you were so sensitive on your boobs. Especially when he toyed with your nipples, moistening them up with his mouth and rolling the buds between his fingers. It wired you, Namjoon played with you like an etch-a-sketch. It feels fantastic. Waves of goosebumps cycling across your skin as he continued running his tongue across your aroused nipples, making sure to give the other boob the same attention. You mewed for him; the blush drawn on your upper cheeks as your body grew hotter under his touches.

He reached behind you with a hand, unclasping the hook of the bra and allowing the fabric to relieve your delicate girls. Turning you on was Joon’s pleasure, he cared about pleasing you more than being pleased. He could spend all day groping your tits if that means you’ll be satisfied.

You were easily wet; the games Joon played with your boobs sparking your nerves and arousal. Prepping your body for more, aching for more of his gentle touch.

Daringly you reached your hand between the two of you, palming at whatever you made contact with until you found a stiffening bulged that stuck out with the fabric of his pants. You can feel the warmth radiating through his region, heated up and you knew very well he wants to reintroduce his member to you.

“Joon – take off your pants.” You ordered in a hushed tone. Squeezing at his dick. “My body really wants you right now.”

As your sweet voice compelled his ears, he listened. Shuffling his pants off with a smirk and a light shake of his head. “I wanted to touch you a bit more.” Giving you a small pout.

“Aww.” You smiled, seeing the little kid of him. “You can touch me with this big boy instead.” You tried sounding a bit sexy, almost kitten-like as you eyed his member.

Willingly you unbuttoned your own jeans, tugging them down your thighs and letting Joon help you with the rest. His fingers ran up to your undies that remained on your frame, seeing the cute little ocean doodled pattern on them with a dampened and darker spot that was clung to the outline of your lady-lips. He was turned on and completely in awe of how cute you are.

“Why do you do this to me?” he laughed, feeling happy with you and hooking his fingers around the thin waistband of your undies. Towing them down your legs with a fit of giggles.

You blushed; a bit embarrassed at your attire but not even self-conscious being completely nude in front of him. “I don’t know – I just thought they were cute!” You retorted back fast.

“They are cute. You’re even cuter for wearing them.” He chirped.

Namjoon swooped back down, placing his hand over your mound and letting a finger dip in between your folds. Sliding your natural lubrication all over he glided it over your clit, making you moan in the process. Your hands found their way into his hair, fluffing it up even more while Joon teased at your entrance.

“Your body really does want me, huh? I don’t think I even need to use my fingers.”

Nodding, you bucked your hips up chasing his floating fingers. Wishing he’d do something more with them than just shifting between all your lady bits. “Let me get a condom.”

You reached over to the bedside table, pulling out a drawer to frantically search for the magical package that contained the secure rubber. Swiftly you ripped it open, offering to help apply it along his length. You pinched the tip of the latex, rolling the rest down his long shaft and giving his dick a few teasing tugs.

Joon groaned at your touch, flexing his dick in the process of your pumps. He was more than ready to take you in, ready to share the closeness with you once again.

With that, Joon pushed you back down on the bed. Lifting one of your legs over his hip as he centered himself at your core. Your slick allowing him to slide between your folds effortlessly as he prodded his tip in your hole.

You held your breath, anticipating Joon to fill you up all the way to the hilt. You want to feel him inside you, widening your walls and your body vibrating around him. He locked eyes with you, smiling as he leaned down to plant another kiss on your lips. In sync he inched himself further into you, a grunt escaping his chest as you disconnected yourself from the kiss to breathe. You tossed your head to the side, latched your hands around his shoulders as Joon set a pace with his thrusts.

Your body missed Joon so much, you didn’t even have control over how your cunt clenched tightly around his dick. Your walls compressed in a series of movements; your cunt thirsty for him. Breathy gasps leaving your mouth once Namjoon whispers to the skin between your neck, “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful like this. Ah – Y/n, you’re so wet.”

Earlier you felt a deep ache within your chest from the persistent pain of worry and hurt. But now, all of that washed over. You feel something deep, but not from pain. Not from the obvious penetration from Joon’s lengthy cock kissing the doorway of your cervix. You feel deep feelings, words and actions not able to compare to the affection and fondness between the two of you.

You felt warm, completely at ease even though you’re sweating, catching your breath, sensitive nerves awakening to the sexual stimulation between your legs. A heavy body on top of you, pounding his dick into your sweet succulent juices. His hips banging into you, his head stuck in the crane of your neck.

This warm feeling overruled all physical activities and all auditable sounds. But what it couldn’t stop was the twisting of your lower abdomen muscles, the stiffening of your walls and tense grip over Joon’s shoulders. Your body reacting on its own agenda. Your throat feeling dry from the open mouth breathing, you tried speaking but only moans were formed.

Namjoon can read you like a book, knew exactly what to do when to do it. He fully enjoyed the way your body reacted to him, how simple of a task for him to pleasure you in this way. Your cries from pleasure giving him excitement that he was treating you the way you deserve.

“Joon I’m – I’m close!” you panted, feeling that orgasm rolling closer and closer to a release.

As much as both Joon and you wanted you to spasm all around him, he stalled it. Delaying you from the contractions of your pelvic muscles that would send electrifying waves all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. He stopped all actions, halting himself deep inside you and slowly rocked his hips to continue a small force of friction between the two of you.

Your body was frustrated, your cunt was soaked, and you were vexed. “Joonie?” you whined out, bucking your hips up into him. Feeling that build up in the pit of your stomach slowly fade away.

Joon leaned up, kissing your cheek. He hummed to himself, satisfied with the state the both of you were in. “I would love to stay like this forever. Do you feel this?”

Do you feel this, Y/n? The sensation filling the room, the air, your heart. The thrill that frenzied in your veins and muscles. Flushed, excited, ecstatic, blissed out of your mind. The feeling Joon raptures you with, sending your body to a state of euphoria. It was wild. You didn’t feel normal, but it was the best feeling you could ever experience with another. And this is what Namjoon wanted to continuously feel.

Without notice, tears fell from your eyes as you nodded to his statement. You weren’t sad or upset, but in complete awe over Joon. How could someone be this perfectly imperfect? How could someone be so sweet for you. And you still question yourself if you were even good enough for Kim Namjoon.

He whipped away the tears that shed onto your skin, hushing you. “You don’t need to cry, Y/n. Believe me, I already know the way you feel.” Because… he feels it too.

With the little room you were given, you wrapped your arms around Joon as much as possible. He smiled down at you, returning the hug and rolling the two of you over with him still pivoted inside. You now lay above him, peering down into his eyes you went to speak. The movement of your body caused your pelvis to rub against his, squishing your swollen clit against him and bursting a shriek out of your mouth when you snapped back into reality.

The heightened arousal between your legs was still on edge and ready to burst. Joon bit down on his bottom lip once he felt your pussy clench around him. The experience between the both of you was riveting but was soon going to vanish because of the greediness your bodies had. Your mouth dropped open, “I love you” spilled out without wavering.

Namjoon’s hands rested on your sides, holding your waist as you slowly grinded yourself against him. Allowing his dick to swirl inside of you while your sensitive bud rubbed against his pelvic bone. You couldn’t help yourself; your body had a mind of its own when it rushed itself back up the stairs to orgasm. And you got there, fast.

Your body jerked; your hands planted on Joon’s chest to hold yourself upright as you released yourself all over him. Unfolding all the pent-up energy and feelings. Your hair cascaded over your face with labored breathing, groans ascending out of your mouth. “Joon, I – I, I going to – Joon – Ahh!” you squeaked out once the second wave coursed through your cunt, expanding a pulsating vibration through your body.

“So beautiful. Fuck – Y/n, you’re so damn beautiful!” Joon watched every second of you coming undone on him, seeing how you squirmed around him, using his body for your own pleasure, moaning his name. In a selfish way, Namjoon felt fulfillment seeing you like this – all displayed for him to treasure and praise. It turned him on, hearing your voice singing into his ears as he jutted himself up further into your moisten cunt. Over stimulating your nether region, he was determined to make you go one last time before he spills into the condom.

You’re barely holding yourself up straight, hunched over with your palms placed on his torso. Sweat formed along your hairline and between the contact of your skin with his. The mixture of your sweet n’ salty juices shining along your lady-lips and Joon’s cock. Before you could call out his name in another breathless voice, he has your mounds in each of his hands, squeezing them tight and pinching at your perked nipples.

You gripped at his wrists, letting out a shocked plea for him to stop because the sensation was so good that you couldn’t handle it. “Joon!”, you choked out, gasping for air as you tried to lift your body off his. He refused.

He flipped you back over, Joon locking your hands above your head with one hand around your wrists. He didn’t care for the mess on the bed, the tossed pillows and taunted comforter beneath the two of you. Your attempt of wiggling out of his grasp was a failure after he pinned you down with his body. Dick hovering over your delicate pussy.

“One more time, for me.” His voice was stern and serious while he murmured into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“I – I can’t!” Your chest heaved erratically, feeling your legs already shake and stomach contracting from the multiple orgasms you’ve already encountered. You felt weak.

“You will, love.”

Your request was again, hushed. Namjoon tilting his hips for his dick to dip back into your entrance, he placed kisses on the crook of your neck. Your breath hitched, throwing your head back into the bed, feeling Joon slam himself deep inside you, causing your nerves to shudder.

You struggled for air, body completely trembling uncontrollably as you cried out for Namjoon. You swore your vision went blurry while you received this mind-blowing orgasm. Joon held onto you tight, allowing you to ride out your high. Slowly pulling himself out of you once he knew you were finished.

Namjoon and you laid close to another, exhausted from the physical activity and especially from the toll your body took. Your eyes shut, not able to lift your body off the bed. Joon smirked, giving you another peck on the cheek before leaning up to discard the used condom, knotting it and tossing it in the trash bin. “You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”

You laughed, shaking your head to yourself. “I heard you the first time, Joon.”

“I know.” He chuckled, laying back down and wrapping his arm back around you. “I mean it every time.”

You hummed in response. Tracing sluggish patterns on his forearm with your index finger. You slowly drifted further into your tiredness. “We’re still getting a dog, right?” You drowsily asked.

You felt a soft pair of warm lips contact your forehead; the sensation was comforting. “Of course, babe.”

About a week later you were staring out the window, watching the scenic views pass by. Acres of landscape in the countryside took up the area. The environment felt fresh and calm. Much different from the inner-city area with nonstop traffic and busy streets. You turned your gaze at Namjoon who was driving the car, his eyes remained on the dirt road ahead, but he could sense your stare.

As if he knew what you were thinking, he spoke up “Almost Y/n, the farm is about 2 miles up.”

You smirked to yourself, looking down at the palm of your hand that held the shiny silver dog tag. You fiddled with the metal, twisting the item back and forth between your digits. Anticipating the new addition to the house, a furry companion, hopefully the cutest puppy in the world.

The two of you slowly pulled up an extended driveway, parking in front of an old tiny brown snug farmhouse. A large red barn hidden behind the home, attached was a large fence that enclosed a few goats and pigs. A pack of stray chickens roaming around the grounds. Shutting the car doors, the smell of the plantation entered your nostrils, “Definitely a farm.”

You were greeted by an elder couple, warm smiles dressing their wrinkly faces. They were dressed as if they were in the middle of housework, tall muk boots, overalls and plaid shirts. “Hello there! You’re here for one of the pups?”

Joon reached out to lace his hand with yours, walking over towards the sweet couple. Charming and innocent eyes beamed back at you two. “Hey there! I’m Namjoon, and this is Y/n! We spoke over the phone!” Joon perked up, pulling you along with his strides.

The older couple waved Joon and you on, walking the both of you towards the barn in the back. Having small talk in between the short distance, hearing cute comments about the various animals you passed on the way.

“That’s Molly over there, Mama of the litter.” The older man pointed out a dog laying down in the pasture, her coat was a dark golden tone and it shined in the sunlight. She was watching over at your area, observing the new persons that entered her home. She sniffed the air as the breeze picked up, letting her head lay back down on the ground, but her eyes never left yours.

A loud creaking sound snapped your head towards the barn, watching the woman open up the doors wide for you to enter. Joon and you followed in after the couple, stopping short at a stall on the left. You heard little yips and yaps from the other side of the wall that fenced in the young pups.

You peaked over the edge, instantly widening your eyes when you see six little furry golden retriever puppies playing around with another. All varying in different shades of gold and creams. Your excitement caused you to clutch Joon’s hand tight.

“Oh my god! They’re so cute!”

“You want to go inside? Sometimes it’s easier for you to choose once you spend some time with them.” The older gentleman gestured, unlocking the latch to the wooden door and popping it slightly open, making sure he doesn’t allow any of the pups escape the corridor.

You glanced at Joon quickly, getting reassurance from him before eagerly nodding your head and walking into the pit. Immediately you fell to your knees, allowing any of the puppies to come running on over and jumping up on you. Their fur was so soft, angel-like and had that sweet puppy smell to them. You giggled with the six rambunctious babies. Grabbing a few chew toys and loose rope to play around with. You were happy, completely lucky to be blessed with these cute little ones in front of you.

You took your time with each of the pups, feeling out which one would be yours. Of course, you were tickled pink with glee, and wanted each of them. You joked with Joon briefly, giving him puppy-dog eyes and asked him if you could adopt them all. But unfortunately, you could only choose one. You were so indulged with playing with the puppies you didn’t realize how much time you spent with them. It’s been over twenty minutes before you heard a voice directed towards you.

“Did you find a new friend?” Joon spoke softly towards you. He leaned over the gate, smiling down at how cute you looked with a pile of puppies flooding your space. But he noticed that there was one puppy curled up in your lap, tuckered out and resting itself.

You looked up at Joon, trying to hold back your smile. “I think one found me!”

Then it was decided. The small, dark golden fur ball that laid across your thighs was going to be the newest addition to your world. You exited the stall, carefully holding the puppy in your arms. Joon giving it a small pet on its head before turning back to the cute elders.

“Thank you so much, you were so kind to us. Thank you for allowing us to adopt.” He flashed a smile to them. You thanked them as well, nodding your appreciation while trying not to disturb the sleeping pup.

Joon handed you the keys to head back to the car as he fished through his back pocket for his wallet to pay the man. You walked through the frame of the barn, turning your head back to the older dog named Molly. There was a slight ache in your heart, feeling bad that you were taking away one of her babies. Your smiled towards the animal, thinking that it would settle the upsetting feeling inside your chest.

“Excuse me, Miss?” A deep modulated voice, coming from what seemed to be the elder man, rang through your ears.

Questionably, you turned on your heels, facing back towards the inside of the barn. But you were caught completely off guard when there was a body before you. Down on one knee, with a box raised up between his hand, Namjoon smiled up at you. The black velvet box cracked open, flashing a sparkly stone.

“Y/n.”

You froze, feelings swelling your heart up. You felt your heartbeat in your throat when your jaw dropped. If it wasn’t for the exhausted puppy in your arms you’d probably fall straight down to the floor. This is happening. Holy shit.

Namjoon cleared his throat, realizing he has your full attention. “Y/n… words, actions, even music, cannot express the feelings I have for you. The amount of love I have towards you is unexplainable. I want you to know that I appreciate every waking moment with you, from the very first day you entered my life. Thank you for always being there, for always making me happier, for supporting everything. You are the greatest woman I know, and selfishly I wish to ask you for your hand in marriage because I want you all to myself for the rest of my life.” He spoke confidently, glistening in his eyes he smiled with each word that he admitted.

“Y/n, will you marry me?”

Tears fell down your cheeks, your eyes flickering back and forth between Joon and the ring that was bestowed in front of you. Your hand came up to your mouth as your sobbed out loud, shaking your head in reply.

“Yes! – Yes, oh my god yes I will!” You choked on your words, but they were clear enough for Joon to hear.

You rushed yourself towards Joon, wanting to hold him. Joon catches you by your arms, not allowing you to crash yourself into him because of the puppy that you were holding. He held you around your back, pecking your cheek as he held your hand still as he linked the jewelry to your ring-finger. He snuggled against your head while he back hugged you tightly. The puppy, now fully awake from all the commotion, was wiggling around and licking at your crying face.

You heard camera clicks, the sound alerting you to look up at the older couple who each were recording and snapping photos of the scene in front of them. You smiled, half embarrassed but also filled with joy.

Sniffling, your eyes met Joon’s, “You paid them for this?”

“I had offered, but they said that a time like this is priceless.”

One last picture was taken of a smiling newly engaged couple with a brand-new puppy in their arms.

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dailytomlinson · 4 years ago

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In the spring of 2012, I spent a few entertaining days hanging out with the five young members of a British boy band who were just breaking big in the United States. The guys from One Direction were unjaded, unguarded, totally charming, and a puppy pile of optimism and energy. On April 8th, in a New York City hotel room, Harry Styles and Niall Horan, both 18, sat down with me for a joint interview, published here for the first time. (The reporting was intended for a Rolling Stone cover story that never ran.)

What did you do at the gym last night? Harry: One of our security guys, his friend’s over, he’s a personal trainer, so I was working with him, and he ripped me to shreds.

Have you seen whole episodes of it?

Harry: I’ve watched a lot of clips on YouTube. They don’t show it in the U.K.

Growing up, when did you realize you could sing or that you wanted to sing?Harry: I sang in primary school, like the school productions, plays and stuff.

What was your first one? Harry: The first one was … I was five, and there was a story about a mouse who lived in a church, and I was Barney, the mouse. I had to wear my sister’s tights, and a headband with ears on it, and I had to sing a song all by myself. I remember it was just like, whatever.… In the second, I was Buzz Lightyear in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. So you know when they run and hide in the toy shop? Buzz Lightyear was in the toy shop, so they just created my character. The last one, I was in … you know Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat? I was the pharaoh, but I was an Elvis pharaoh.

Did you have a sense that this is what you wanted to do in your life? Harry: I think in school I was OK, I wasn’t a bad student. I think I just knew I wanted to entertain people and stuff. I was a bit of an attention-seeker at school.

Niall: Me, too. I just talked too much, sang too much.

What did you sing? Harry: We sang “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” by Jet, and “Summer of ’69.” We did it more towards the Bowling For Soup version.

Harry: [helpfully translating] Soccer.

Who told you? Niall: My French teacher. We used to do talent shows and stuff at school, she was like, “You should do it,” so I did it.

Harry: I had to wait a little bit, I think.

Harry: They film it.

Niall: In England, it’s the biggest thing ever. It took a while to build.

Harry: The two or three years were steady, and third or fourth, it just blew up.

Niall: It works that one in three people in the UK watch it. There’s 60 million people in the UK, and 21 million people watched the final the year we were in it.

Harry, your band also played at least one wedding right? Harry: Yeah. We actually said that we’d do the wedding gig, and…

Niall: You get paid for it?

Niall: Can you imagine you’re at a wedding and you have 16-year-old kids up on the stage?

Maybe you were really good! Harry: Yeah, the drummer is one of my best friends from school, he’s a sick drummer, he’s so good.

What do your parents do? Harry: My mum is a PA. My dad is a financial adviser.

How about you? Niall: My dad works at a supermarket, he’s the head manager, general manager of an area, not just one, and my mum is unemployed now, so I try to help them out whenever I can.

You probably can. That must be nice. Niall: Yeah, it’s nice, it’s good.

Plus, now you can tell them what to do. Harry: [laughs] “Now you go to bed.”

Niall: I never went through that.

Harry: Not stupid heavy, but a bit… just because I thought it was cool.

Like what? Harry: Like Nirvana T-shirts, wore black all the time, pretty much.

Did you both grow up in your moms’ houses? Harry: Yeah.

People say you come off as more mature than your age, you come off wiser. Did hanging around all those people as a kid help you mature?

So you grew up on Elvis and the Stones? Harry: Yeah, pretty much. My dad was a massive Stones fan, so it was pretty much Beatles and Stones in terms of what my dad played.

People say you kind of look like Mick.

Niall: He gets that a lot.

Harry: I get it more here, probably, than I do at home. It’s because of the British thing.

Harry: We’re living on our own now.

Niall: We just started living on our own in the last six months, really.

Harry: I’m moving when I get back.

Do you want to act? It feels like you could have your own TV show. Harry: I think it would be more of a documentary, because obviously, we’re not actors.

People must want you to try. Niall: Watch tonight, tell us what you think. Watch SNL.

Will you all make solo albums? Is that inevitable? Harry: No, I don’t think so.

Niall: Let’s do a swing album!

Niall: If there was eight days, we’d fit it in.

Harry: It’s not as completely glamorous all the time, of course it’s not, it would be stupid to think that it would be, but it’s hard work.

In any case, it’s probably better than the bakery. Harry: Yeah. But I don’t get a nice bun on my break anymore, that’s the thing.

Did you wear an apron? Harry: Oh yeah, I wore a white polo shirt and a maroon apron with white stripes. “What would you like? 78 pence, thank you very much.”

Were you behind the counter? Harry: Yeah, I was behind the counter. It was good. It was Saturday morning, I started at five and finished at four in the afternoon and got like 30 quid, it was a joke.

Niall, did you have a job? Niall: No, never.

So this is your first job. Niall: Yeah, not bad at all. I was chilling, I was being a kid.

Harry: I had a paper route before that. It gave me a bad back, bad posture. It was a heavy bag.

Ringo would say, “It’s just me face.” Niall: “Who’s that little old man?” [quoting Hard Day’s Night]

Harry: “That’s Paul’s grandfather. He’s very clean.”

Sometimes you can drift off, that’s just your thing. Harry: [laughs] I’m just soulful, man, I try.

Harry, do you mind when you’re singled out for attention? Harry: I don’t know. I don’t really…I don’t know. We’re a band. Everything we do is together. I don’t take much notice of it.

So you’re not the Justin. Harry: No.

Niall: J.C. was popular, too, wasn’t he?

It’s not like that for you guys. Harry: Not at all.

There was an imbalance in that group. Harry: I think we find it important that people get to know all of our individual personalities, because…

Harry: We all know that we all have our roles, and we all know that without one of us, it wouldn’t work.

#brian hiatt #rolling stone #harry styles #niall horan #press #230720 #10years1d

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serpentes-lupus · 5 years ago

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OC Interview: Tarra Lyall

Repost, don’t reblog

Tagged - By no one

Before Year 6, Chapter 18

name ➔ Tarra let out a long yawn before rubbing her eyes. “Can I go back to bed? It’s too earlier.” She grumbled before sighing. “Fine. My name is Tarra Lyall.”

are you single ➔ At the question, the young girl blushed a bit and averted her gaze. “I...think so? Like Talbott and I have been on two dates now and he did kiss me on the cheek. He does know how I feel and I guess he has admitted the way he feels for me in his own manner. But we haven’t gone on any other dates nor made it official. Well, with the Cursed Vaults going on and Talbott preferring his privacy, I think it would be best to keep our relationship on the down-low for now.”

are you happy ➔ Tarra looked a bit confused before taking a few seconds to think about her response. “Yeah. I mean, I found my brother and he’s alive. I have friends who care for me and my parents are still around. Like, things could be better but I can’t complain.”

are you angry ➔ Again, Tarra became confused and even more off-guard. “Yes. I am angry. I’m angry that Jacob just up and left without making an attempt to stick around. I’m angry about what Rakepick did to him and us. I’m angry that...that I’m not strong enough.”

are your parents still married ➔ “They sure are. Happy at that too. Especially after they got over Jacob’s disappearance.” She said before realizing how she said then frantically waved her hands. “Nononononono! I didn’t mean that they were happy to get rid of him! Like, it broke their hearts and they were...rather apathetic with each other. But after accepting what happened and that Jacob was, probably, never coming back, they moved on.”

NINE FACTS

birthplace ➔ “I was born in Cuenca, Spain. I currently live in Dumfries, Scotland. I moved when I was a baby but I would visit Cuenca during the holidays.”

hair color ➔ “Obviously, it’s dark brown,” she grinned as she twirled one of her curls with one finger.

eye color ➔ “Hazel brown. Although, I’ve been told by various family members that they look bronze.” Tarra hummed before lightly shrugging. “Must have gotten it from my father’s side of the family because none of the Lyalls has my eye color.”

birthday ➔ “March 10th.”

mood ➔ “Eh? Like what I’m feeling right now? Tired. You did wake me up for this bloody interview...”

gender ➔ “I identify as androgynous. I have both masculine and feminine traits, and my style says so as well.”

summer or winter ➔ “Summer!” She exclaimed excitedly. “I visit my family in Spain during the summer, and I spend time at my uncle’s ranch and play soccer with my cousins! Celebrate birthday parties and go to festivals! Travel around Scotland, visit the grandparents and explore the old Lyall manor. I’ll probably get some souvenirs for the gang this upcoming summer. They’ve given me gifts before and I have returned few but I always enjoy sharing my cultures.”

morning or afternoon ➔ Tarra laughs before answering her question. “Strangely enough, I prefer the morning. I don’t know why but I like the stillness of dawn. Where it’s quiet and you have that momentarily peace to yourself. Now I can understand why Talbott prefers his privacy.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ Tarra become so flustered that her glasses fogged up. “I eh..ah..um..” she struggled to say before shaking her head. “Yes!” She exclaimed in embarrassment.

do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “To a certain degree. You might have an attraction to someone but it might not be love. Perhaps it’s until you start to learn more about them, befriend and such that your feelings might develope to love.”

who ended your last relationship ➔ “I didn’t have a previous relationship.”

have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ Tarra looked down in shame. “Yes. It was Barnaby’s. It was when my love note was read by Professor Snape and Barnaby confronted me about it. He thought I had a crush on him because I went to the Ball with him. I thought I fancied him but it was not romantic love. I should have been honest after that. I know that he didn’t take the rejection well. His cries still haunt me.”

are you afraid of commitments ➔ “Who isn’t? But if you truly love that person, then you have to conquer your fear!”

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔

have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “If I did, I guess that it was Barnaby. Especially after he talked to me after the love note was read out loud.”

have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “Yes.”

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ “What kind of bloody question is that? Love, of course!” Tarra exclaimed, a deep blush on her cheeks.

lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Lemonade! I like that sweet taste with that pinch of citrus. Tea is just bland and bitter. Blah!”

cats or dogs ➔ “I like both of them! They can be equally as goofy and playful. And each serves different purposes in different circumstances. You get to see a lot of their personality while they live on a ranch.”

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “To be honest, I prefer a few best friends. Too many regular friends might just cause trouble. Like, I’m glad that I have friends in my life right now, but I believe a few of them I would consider my best friends.” Tarra said before scratching the back of her neck. “I don’t like the idea of choosing one over the other though.”

wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “Depends on who I’m going with. A wild night out would be with my friends. A romantic night in would be someone that I fancy, like Talbott. And if it’s a wild night out, then I have to be careful about which friends I go out with.”

day or night ➔ “Day. Despite me saying that I enjoy the stillness of the morning, I do like the activities and hustle of the day. The night doesn’t offer much for a teenager.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ “Yup. By Professor Snape, no less. He destroyed Andre’s broom! I still owe him one but I saw that he got another one. Still, best to have a second broom in handy just in case!”

fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “Like I’m gonna tell you.” Tarra huffed.

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “Maybe a toy when I was a kid? But I can’t really recall.”

wanted to disappear ➔ “Who doesn’t? There have been times that I just want to be left alone, especially with all of the recent events.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ Tarra softly blushed. “Oh, we’re getting personal again. I guess a smile would be my preference.”

shorter or taller ➔ “That’s a tough one. Either height is okay with me. But if you want me to be specific, I guess if I’m dating a boy, then I would prefer them being taller. And if I’m dating a girl, I guess either height is no issue for me.”

intelligence or attraction ➔ “I guess intelligence? Super attractive people make me intimidated. Intelligent people might be playing a gamble though since they can be self-centered with their smarts. Or they can just be humble about it.” Tarra grumbled in frustration. “I don’t know!”

hook-up or relationship ➔ “Relationships, of course! Hook-ups may be fun for others, but not for me.”

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ Tarra softly sighed, becoming quiet before answering. “Well, depending on the family members. I get along just fine with my parents if that’s what you were wondering. My relationship with my mother’s parents is good too. They’re a bit uptight but know when to ease up. The same goes with my cousins on my mother’s side. As for my father’s parents....that’s a different story. I get along with my uncle, my father’s younger brother, and his kids but that’s it. I know that I have more relatives on that side of the family but I never met them.”

would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “Not really? I mean, all is good back at home but after Jacob’s disappearance, things became rocky and lots of wizards and witches gave me and my family a hard time. Then again, muggles still too due to being mixed blood. Then there’s Rakepick and the “R” organization. But I wouldn’t consider that a “messed up life”. In fact, I really have myself to blame since I decided to seek out Jacob by unraveling the Cursed Vaults.”

have you ever ran away from home ➔ “I have no reason to.”

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “No. Wait...I faintly remembered being with my parents. We were visiting someone but I can’t recall who it was. I might have been too little. But I remember shouting and screaming, and then, we were all ushered out. I guess we were kicked out. Does that count?”

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “How could you ask such a question?! I don’t hate any of my friends!”

do you consider all of your friends' good friends ➔ “I think so. Many of my friends are good people with good intentions. Although, it is true that I do talk to some more than others. But overall, they haven’t done anything to wrong me.”

who is your best friend ➔ “My best friend? That would be Rowan. She was the first friend that I ever made coming to Hogwarts. She was the first to give me a chance when everyone else was quick to judge me because of the lies that the Daily Prophet had said about Jacob and my family. Honestly, if it wasn’t for her, I might not have had any friends today.”

who knows everything about you ➔ “That might be Penny. I wouldn’t be surprised since she’s a popular kid in Hogwarts. It’s her job to know everything and everybody. It feels weird knowing that she might know about you before ever meeting her. It seems like an invasion of privacy. Aside from her, then the next person would be Rowan.”

#tarra lyall #oc interview #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm oc #harry potter oc #jacob's sibling #main character #original character

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fluffyunicornofdanger · 6 years ago

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Her Royal Highness: Part Two

A/N: I’m so sorry that this has taken me this long. I’ve been so busy with school, trying to finish everything up before finals, that I just didn’t have time. But I’m back and I’m gonna try and post a lot more next week. I’m gonna try and get the next couple of parts out for Live a Little and Rhinestone. Once I’m done with those series, I will be doing more one-shots and would love to do requests, so don’t be afraid to send them in. And if you have any questions or anything to say, I would love to hear it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist

Part One

70s! Brian May x Reader

Summary: What’s the difference between lying and keeping things to yourself? A question that Y/n has to ask herself when the truth of about her family comes to light. And the answer may not be one that Brian wants to hear.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: None????

(Disclaimer: Andorra is a real country in Europe, landlocked between France and Spain. It may be real, but it does not have an existing monarchy. So, please remember that this is a work of fiction. And I would appreciate it if you guys didn’t go around telling people that Andorra has a monarchy, it wouldn’t make you sound very smart.)

Muffled sobs echoed through the room, leaking out into the hall. Everyone that passed by, as much as they were concerned, knew better than to question it. They simply frowned before walking past, going about their day.

Y/n knew that it was no use crying over it. It wasn’t like an outside force had caused her any pain. She did it to herself. Yet, the tears fell no matter who’s fault it was. It seemed like she had been crying for days, spilling enough tears to create a lake, maybe an ocean. But she couldn’t help herself. Every time she was finally stable, every time that she finally felt happy, it came back to her.

She knew that walking out of that restaurant wasn’t the smartest decision that she had made. What was even worse was the fact that she didn’t make it clear which home she was going back to. Going straight to her house had crossed her mind, that was where Brian would go looking for her. At least, that’s what she thought. But against her better judgment, she decided to go back to Andorra. Maybe then she wouldn’t have to face the end of her relationship no matter how much it weighed on her.

A knock came from the door, slowly opening with a creak. “Y/n, do you want to come eat?” her mother asked, walking in and take a seat next to her on the bed.

Y/n let out a sigh from her place underneath a mountain of blankets. “Why can’t someone just bring me food?” she whined, her voice cracking in the process.

Her mother ran her hand over the back of her head, trying to comfort her in some way. Life was hard, every mother knew that, and her mother knew that it was ten times harder for her children. The life of royalty looks glamours from afar, but it’s far from it. There may be fancy balls and enough jewels to buy a country, but it’s much more than clothing and gold and whatever else money can buy. Her mother knew it would be hard for her children to live as close as they could get to a normal life and it broke her heart to see her daughter’s fall apart. Being in the public eye was hard no matter how much people played it off as nothing.

“You’ve been up here for a while, darling,” she cooed. “How about you get dressed and come down for brunch and then maybe we can go for a stroll around the garden? How does that sound?”

Y/n rolled around, turning to look up at the woman next to her. She was starting to get hungry but she wasn’t sure she was up to seeing the world. “I guess,” she mumbled, knowing that her mother wouldn’t leave until she agreed to get out of bed.

“Excellent,” the woman clapped her hands together and Y/n pushed herself up into a sitting position. “I’ll be waiting for you downstairs,” she kissed the top of her head before exiting the room.

Forcing herself off the bed, Y/n trudged to her closet, carelessly opening the doors. If it were up to her, she would stay in bed ‘til the world ended. But the world hadn’t come to an end, the sun was still shining and people were still going about their day. Pulling out a sundress, Y/n slipped it on before heading to the bathroom to wash up.

Her hands rested on the cold counter as she looked at herself in the mirror. Dark circles could clearly be seen under her eyes from the many nights that sleep evaded her and her cheeks and eyes were puffy and swollen from all the tears she had shed. Before her eyes could find anything else, she turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face.

Maybe she needed to get out of her room. Maybe it would make her heart ache just a little less.

*~~~~*

The pair were quiet as they walked in between the roses of flowers, the weather outside was much more pleasant then it had been when Y/n had left London. There was no harsh breeze to steal all the flowers away, instead the wind gently danced around, circulating the warm air.

“Are you ever going to talk to him again?” her mother asked from beside her.

Y/n shrugged, bending down to smell a yellow tulip that popped out among all the red.

Of course, she wanted to talk to him, she wanted to tell him that she had never meant to hurt him and that her life was just complicated. But at the same time, she didn’t want to. She knew that upon seeing him again, she would fall apart. He was clearly hurt by her actions when she fled and seeing that in his eyes was not something she was up for. And who said that he was even willing to see her, talk to her again.

“I don’t know, mare. It’s not that simple,” she tried to explain but her mother only rolled her eyes.

“It is simple, amor. Did I say that you had to talk to him about all of this?” she gestured to the castle behind them. “You can simply talk about the weather or-” The woman motion for her daughter to walk beside her as she strolled past a bed of roses. “- the french revolution or whatever you want. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

Y/n sighed. “But what if all I want to talk about is this… this problem,” she looked at her mother with pleading eyes. “What if it’s all I want to talk about but I can’t seem to find the words to say it. What then?”

The two walked up to a fountain, in the center was a woman made out of stone, a pot in her hand with water flowing out of it. Y/n’s mother took a seat on the rim of the fountain, running her fingers through the water before patting the seat beside her. Y/n sat down as the silence continued. They sat there for a while, taking in the nature around them, taking in each others presence. Y/n hadn’t been home for a long time and she knew that all her mother wanted was to spend time with her, it weighed on her that all the time she had spent with her mother thus far she had spent crying. Though it was a mother’s job to wipe the tears away, she didn’t want that to be all her mother did during her stay.

“It’s perfectly normal to not know what to say. Sometimes you never know the right words until the moment they must be said,” her mother stated, watching a pair of birds that were sitting on a shrub. “And other times, words don’t need to be exchanged for people to know what others mean.”

Y/n nodded, turning the words over in her head. “Is this your way of telling me I need to fix this?”

Her mother shrugged, turning to her daughter. “No. This is my way of saying that not everyone knows what to say. What he said about the situation may not have right and what you said may not have either. That’s okay.” She grasped her daughter’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “But now you’ve had time to think about your words, you’ve had time to sit and think about what you want. And if you think that you need to fix it, then fix it.”

*~~~*

Y/n sighed, shaking her hands in an attempt to keep them still, trying to shake her nerves away. She had thought she was ready, prepared to face her fears, but she was wrong. It was so weird for her nerves to take over like that, she had never had a problem doing royal engagements or interviews with the press. But this wasn’t that. This wasn’t something that she had been prepped since birth to do.

She grasped the doorknob in front of her and pushed the door open. She walked into the room to see recording equipment on one side and a sofa on the other with scraps of paper littering the floor. Fully walking into the room and shutting the door behind her, she finally noticed a pair of eyes watching her.

“You have a lot of nerve coming here,” Roger remarked, turning to her from his position in front of the window looking into the recording booth.

Y/n took a step forward, twisting her fingers together to keep them from shaking. “Do you think he’d be willing to talk to me?”

The blonde shrugged, swiveling in his chair to look at the man in question in the recording booth. “Probably, but I’m not sure that you should. We’re trying to get the album finished in a timely fashion. You would be interrupting that.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his statement. Of course, Roger would be the one to hold this all against her. She didn’t blame him, it wasn’t Brian’s fault that she had left things out. And it was only normal for him to act in such a manner. She had hurt his best friend, if she was in his position she would be behaving the same.

“I just want to-”

Before she could finish, the recording booth door opened with Freddie and John walking into the room, discussing what needed to be changed with the new song, Brian right behind them. John and Freddie stopped, both catching sight of the young woman. Brian was oblivious to her presence, knocking into his two friends at their abrupt stop.

Brushing his curls out of his eyes, he looked between his friends to see a face that he hadn’t seen in almost two weeks. “Y/n.”

Freddie and John exchanged looks, without speaking they both came to the conclusion that it would be better if they left the room. Y/n waited to respond as John tugged at Roger’s shirt, forcing him out of the room.

“What are you doing here?” Brian asked, not moving an inch.

Y/n gave a weak smile, still unsure of what to say. And her mother thought she would know, what bullshit. The only thing she knew was that she didn’t know what to say. “I… um, wanted to talk to you. But only if you want to.”

“I tried to go and see you, to talk.” He folded his arms crossed his chest. “And you weren’t there, yet you said that you were going home. And I assumed that meant that you wanted to carry on the conversation there. But I guess I assumed wrong.” He threw his arms up in defeat.

What her mother seemed to leave out of her pep talk was that communication needed to be clear for it to make any sense.

“Yeah, I take fault for that, I really do. I went home, Brian. I went to Andorra.”

His features changed as he nodded.

“I-I know that leaving wasn’t the brightest thing I’ve done, but I needed breathing space,” she told him. “I needed time to think, time to process everything.”

“You needed time to process this?” he shrieked.

Y/n closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, tears collecting in the corner of her eyes. “I-I never meant to hurt you, okay?” she sobbed. “I’m sorry for hurting you, really, but you don’t understand. I have always been used for my money, my title. No one has ever liked me, let alone love me for me! I panicked,” she confessed, trying to wipe the tears, that rolled down her cheeks, away.

Brian’s face softened as small sobs echoed through the small room. For a man with his level of intelligence, it hadn’t once crossed his mind that she had been trying to protect herself. He thought that maybe she was just having a little fun before she had to return to her royal duties. Oh, how wrong he was.

Crossing the room, he gently wrapped his arms around her shaking form, rubbing circles on her back in an attempt to soothe her. “I’m sorry that people have made you feel that way. You are so much more than your title and money.”

She sniffled, peering up at him, “You’re just saying that,” she croaked, “to get me to stop crying.”

He shook his head, his long curls bouncing around. “Now, that’s not true. I didn’t fall in love with Princess Y/n of Andorra, I fell in love with Y/n L/n. The woman I fell in love with is smart and kind and confident and bold. But she is also human and has a heart and feelings, which I can’t stand to see break.”

Y/n smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder, “I’m sorry. I should have told you long ago.”

“It’s alright,” he assured her. “I know now and that’s better than never finding out at all.”

There was long, comfortable silence following his response. In that moment, Y/n understood what her mother meant when she said that sometimes words didn’t need to be exchanged. She could feel the love, the comfort, that filled the room.

“Do you think your parents would like me?”

Y/n couldn’t help but snicker. Breaking their embrace, she looked up at Brian. “They will love you.”

“Really?” he questioned.

“Oh, trust me,” she smiled. “They can barely stand the posh members of their court that they are expected to socialize with. They would much rather talk to someone who has done more than garden, once, only once in their life.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Let me know if you want to be added to the permanent taglist.)

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dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram · 5 years ago

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1- Hi Ralph I’m sorry but I need to rant because I’m fucking pissed. I just saw Harry’s pictures and omg... What are they even thinking? I can’t believe that he’s preaching that people should stay at home while he’s probably in a mansion in LA and then decides that doing a pap walk the next day is a good idea?? Spare me the bullshit of “oh my it’s so hard to stay at home and be alone and not be able to be with the people you love...”

2- and then go out the same day on a stupid pap walk with Kendall Jenner as if hundreds of people if not thousands are not dying? I’m writing from Spain, where we are going to start our fourth week of quarantine, our president said that it would go until the 26th of April and we can’t go out once a day. If we could it would be walking around your neighbourhood for 30 mins max. And not taking your motorbike and going for a ride and hanging out with friends on a car to get papped.

3- Because I don’t believe that a pap just stood there and suddenly Kendall Jenner’s car and Harry happened to hang out right in front of them. And what pisses me off even more is the moral superiority with which celebrities act.. like donating to a food bank or to however many charities you want to makes up for being an asshole during a time like this. He makes vague statements about causes and never sticks to one.. like find one and stand behind your words don’t make empty statements.

4- And don’t get me started with TPWK... Just yesterday he said in an interview that for him kindness means being considerate okay so is he being considerate getting papped out with essential workers? immunocompromised people? with people with pre-existing conditions? with old people? with nurses, doctors... Basically the people who are ensuring that you can stay AT HOME? If you love the NHS so bad listen to what they say, show it and don’t put anyone at risk..

5- Also, I think people should hold him accountable of what he's doing and not just blame Jeff. He’s got such a big platform to promote change but is instead being selfish and not “kind” at all. Well I hate kindness and the rich... Right now specially the rich who try to shove kindness down our throats and then display their privilege for everyone to see. Sorry this got too long haha. Just annoyed and wondering why I follow this band.

**********

I’m so sorry for everything you are dealing with anon. It must be so hard to be going into your fourth week of lockdown - let alone everything else. Love and solidarity.

The stuff with Harry is very weird, particularly the Daily Mail not labelling him and therefore presumably the multiple photographers who were there not knowing what they had. I think the most plausible theory is that Kendall was doing a prearranged pap shoot (which it has to be because of the two different angles). And Harry ran into her after going on a motorbike to pick up his one loaf of bread. That is quite a hilarious thing to have happened - so I like it as a theory. But it’s still pretty implausible - particularly that he ran into her exactly where the paps were - and the second picture with them both there. We’ll put it down as one of those mysteries.

If you’re feeling angry at Harry then I say rage away! What are celebrities for if not outlets for feelings at these times. I also don’t think it’s a bad thing if people are less ‘we stan a rich king’ and more ‘you know what’s great? Redistribution of wealth.’

I just have a couple more things to say. The first is I totally agree that blaming Jeff for any of this is absurd. Jeff doesn’t have powers to make Harry ride a motorbike, with his loaf of bread. But as I’ve said lots of times I don’t think you can hold Harry accountable, and it’s not appropriate to try. You can dislike what Harry does, you can express your opinion, both about him and to him and you can leave, but there is no mechanism of accountability for total strangers. Even in a pandemic I’m going to resist the idea that celebrities can or should be accountable to their fans.

Finally, I feel like I’m not helping anyone else or myself by posting 1D related Coronavirus content. It ends up being a weird, indirect way of processing my rage at the world (and at the moment Keir Starmer, which has upped my general rage levels a lot). I’ve really appreciated hearing people experiences and feelings and views, but I’ll probably publish way less from now on (although I can still answer if people send me off anon). From now on I’m going to only post Coronavirus 1D related content on two conditions: I like what they’re doing or it’s really funny. So yes for tweets about warehouses and probably all pap pics, but particularly those involving loafs of bread, as well as quarantining headcanons (particularly if they involve rather obscure side characters - I will always be here for Oli theories), and no to anything where they tell people in general what to do.

#Oh and I'm here for all the business and financial stuff #will always find that fascinating #and would welcome any links #I've got a lot of interesting asks that I"m not going to publish #but I do appreciate them #Anonymous

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somekeepsakes · 6 years ago

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German interview with Peter (May 20, 2019) on drugs, love and new beginnings

I noticed that another version of the interview with Peter which @koidivisions translated some weeks back has emerged. The newer, longer, and presumably full(?) version can be found here. I’m only adding the translation for the bits that were missing in the earlier version. Since there are quite a few of them, maybe some of you are interested in reading the entire thing.

cut cut cut and off you go

Why did Hamburg change you so much? I felt privileged that Johann Scheerer opened his door for me. He trusted me.

He said: "You may live in the apartment and use the studio." He gave me his house key at a time when not even my own family would have trusted me with a key. Yes, it was a wonderful time in Hamburg! It was a shame that there was such resentment between my management at that time and the people from Clouds Hill as, much to the dismay of my management, there was someone who trusted me; that I stayed in Germany, recorded music, and took more control.

Did you feel something close to freedom? Yes, I believe so, there were no paparazzi lurking around every corner. And doing spontaneous gigs in the Golem, this wickedly expensive place, was great. I loved it there.

For some people, you’re a gifted song poet, whereas others tend to associate you with your drug antics. Yes, they believe me to be a caricature. There are even people who are disappointed when they meet me and I’m not all fucked up. This is really sad. But, then, it used to be like that for a long time. There used to be all these negative stories about me that had a nasty pic of me attached to them all the time.

And on the few days where I was alright, they manipulated the picture, or took one of me sneezing. This really killed me. It inwardly killed me.

And everything went hand in hand… The police were obsessed with getting hold of me. They arrested me repeatedly. That made me feel as if I was a dangerous person or a threat to society. That was sheer insanity.

But you’re out of the woods now? That’d be wonderful. But addiction is an illness – a mental illness. It’s self-destructive…

How safe are you feeling right now? Difficult to say. I’m feeling safe. But if I think about it, I don’t actually know what feeling safe means. At least I don’t want to go back to where I was.

[Regarding Margate] But why did you buy a hotel there? Because it was so cheap, so incredibly cheap!

It was said to be the most rundown hotel in Kent or even in England. That’s not entirely fair. The Nigerian woman who ran it had a bad reputation because she used to kick people out of the hotel whenever they complained. But saying that it was the worst hotel… No, I went to one in Aberdeen once which was worse!

And you invested money in yours? Sure, the whole thing was Carl’s idea. He decided that The Libertines needed headquarters. He then found this old five-storey townhouse. He didn’t pay me for five festival gigs for he knows I’m prone to wasting money. The others saved their share. And now I’m one of six investors.

Our studio has already been finished, and the hotel is supposed to come about bit by bit. The liquor licence is also there already so that Carl is able to open a bar beneath the hotel. The bar is going to be called "Wasteland" like the book by T.S. Eliot who lived four doors away. His father owned a bed and breakfast in Margate 100 years ago.

It’s supposed to become something similar to Andy Warhol’s "Factory". The Margate version of it. Carl wants to gradually set it up in a way so that different artists will be able to live and work under the same roof.

You’re said to have started a company for that business. I’ve read that article, too. What a load of bollocks! It said that I was worth 5.3 million pounds – crazy! Carl was really angry when he read that since he’s the businessman among the two of us. I would be completely unfit for a thing like that.

[Regarding the cat incident] There’ve been worse stories about you. And still, you were angry about it? Sure, because it was this incident that brought paparazzi to my doorstep again. That was the first time in two years, prior to that, everything was peaceful. There were no negative stories about me. And even on this day, I was kind towards the photographers. But they didn’t like that.

They claimed that I stood there in the doorway laughing. It broke my heart cause I love animals. And I love cats.

Does the sea inspire you? Tremendously! Every morning when I step outside. The light is unbelievable and the dark, wild sea – it’s calling for me. Sometimes, that’s dangerous. I’d like to run naked into the sea.

But so far you haven’t answered the call? I will do so in summer. Due to their arctic background, my dogs are used to freezing temperatures. They can step into the water when it’s cold, and they love it. But it’s not as nice as it may sound for humans in Margate.

In what way? We get these weird weather fronts. Every ten years, über-storms are causing serious damage. Just last week, the roof of the huge Tesco market got blown away, just like that. The buildings can take a lot but there are also lots of tunnels beneath the bases of the houses which were constructed in old smuggler times. That’s why the whole thing is unstable and causes buildings to collapse. It really is a weird place, Margate.

[Regarding the Puta Madres album] It probably won’t make you rich. That’s the reason why Drew isn’t part of the band. He preferred to make money while touring with Liam Gallagher. But it’s not always about money even if I’m not less greedy than others.

But I also know what damage money can cause. I need to take care of myself so that I’m not going to suffer from tunnel vision and therefore miss the genuine things that inspired me at a time when I didn’t have any money. If we make any money with that, which would be great for us, we’re going to build our own studio.

You’ve recorded the album overlooking a fishing village in the municipality of Étretat in the Normandy. Why not in Margate? Because Carl insisted that the new studio would be Libertines only. So we went to France where the family of our keyboarder Katia lives. That was great because we were able to record the album within a few days. Just like the Beatles did with their first album: one microphone in the room, press record, play the songs, and go back home.

[Regarding Someone Else To Be] Why do you quote Oasis in this particular song? "Please don’t put your life in the hands of a rock’n’roll band" has always been one of my favourite lines from a song. The warning it includes is probably justified.

[Regarding his stance on relationships] As complicated as Brexit? That is indeed complicated for the Puta Madres as so many nationalities come together in this band! We need to move freely, otherwise the knell will sound for us. But we’ll somehow find our way to France, Spain and Germany.

Where does the funny "Puta Madres" band name which literally translates as "goddamn mothers" come from by the way ? "Ah, it’s the puta madre!" – our drummer Rafa used to say that very often in the beginning when he referred to something positive as well as to something negative or something inbetween.

I didn’t really know what it meant but thought we might use that as our band name. Everyone says that in Spain and South America and it means "fucking hell".

It’s a casual curse word like "motherfuckers". It means everything and nothing. Technically speaking, it refers to the mother of a prostitute.

Do you speak Spanish? Sí. There’s a bit of German, a bit of Spanish, and a bit of French on the album.

How are your German skills? (in German) Not that good.

Do you have a favourite German word? Radiergummi! And I also like Creutzfeldt-Jakob and Methadon.

You presumably were given the latter as a substitute during rehab? Yeah, sure, horrible stuff. Sickly sweet. I call it the bad absinth.

Do you still think about Amy Winehouse? Yes, often. Constantly, actually. I met a girl called Jade Goldsworthy, an incredible singer. She reminds me so much of Amy. She hasn’t recorded anything yet, we’ve only met. But I’m planning to release something with her. We’re working on it. Amy would’ve loved her. I’m sure of that.

And The Libertines will continue as well? Of course, forever! Carl and I are stronger than ever.

Are you working on the new Libertines record at the moment? Yeah, but it was all a bit tragic. Ollie, The Prodigy’s guitarist, came round and wanted to help Carl and me with writing and producing. The next day, the news of Keith’s death – who was also a friend of Carl’s – broke. He committed suicide. The last thing Ollie texted Keith was a picture of my dogs as Keith was a fellow husky lover. And Keith replied saying how beautiful they were. And the next day, he hanged himself. We haven’t seen Ollie since.

How did you react to Flint’s death? I listened to all the old Prodigy records. There’s unbelievably good stuff among them, sometimes scaringly sinister.

Given the many deaths surrounding you, do you ask yourself why you’re still alive? No, I don’t think about that.

There are lots of discussions going on at the moment about whether it’s appropriate for radio stations to still play Michael Jackson songs or not. How do you see it: Should we separate an artist’s work from the artist? Wow – that’s a damn good question! His songs are being played every few seconds somewhere in the world. It’s amazing music, some of the best songs ever written. It’d be a fucked-up situation if he’s guilty… A part of me would die – a major part of my childhood. I loved his music.

Did you see the documentary? No, the film might have a significant impact on me – I can’t bring myself to watch it at the moment. I need to be careful with it, it’s too important. Michael Jackson used to be such an important factor in my life. It’s similar to Woody Allen: He’s a great filmmaker, he’s got a good sense of humour. It would annihilate so much culture if we didn’t separate an artist’s work from the private individual. But it’s tricky.

#Pete Doherty #The Libertines

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harumaki03 · 6 years ago

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—Break—

Summary: It really had been a feat for their schedules to coincide, moreover, to make her have that little space to be together.

Notes: English is not my first language. Please forgive any gramatical mistakes. Constructive feedbacks are always welcomed :D.

-/-/-

It really had been a feat for their schedules to coincide, moreover, to make her have that little space to be together.

After the long journey from Tokyo to Motobu, Okinawa, arriving at the hotel, unpacking, both feeling that they would die of fatigue, now looking at the beach a few steps from them, they felt that all the stress of the previous days and the preparations seemed like something distant.

“It was worth it, right?” Sōma murmured softly, inhaling the smell of sea mixed with the essence of the shampoo from the blond hair of the woman lying next to him, whose head rested on his chest.

"Hmm”, was her response, both were lying on a hammock that the redhead was moving gently with his leg that hung outside of it.

Sōma shook his head a bit to try to see the female face since her response had been more a drowsy murmur than anything else.

It pleased and it filled him with tenderness to see that, in fact, the always worthy Tongue of God, Nakiri Erina, had fallen asleep to the rhythm of the soft swing of the hammock that both shared.

Her face that had previously been laden with fatigue and stress, now looked calm and relaxed, her brows were no longer puckered and she seemed to feel at peace.

With all honesty, it had been very strenuous days.

While he had been traveling from Paris to Sydney, making sure his restaurants were in order, Erina had done the same but traveling to Spain and New York, added to her tastings, the articles she had to write for the culinary magazine in which she was a food critic and meetings with the board of directors of Tōtsuki Resorts, it surprised him that she could stand up all that time without any rest.

-/-/-

“We should take a break,” Sōma said, about three weeks ago on video call while watching her pull her hair in a low tail, preparing herself to sleep.

“Maybe you can, but I don't have any free space for the next three months,” she replied, looking at him through the small screen with evident fatigue. “Besides, the world will not stop because you and I are cuddled in a corner,” Erina added.

He could not help but burst out laughing. She would never change.

“You need to rest more than me,” He pointed out.

“Stop saying nonsense, it's not me who has been doing services at Shino's while juggling to be at my other restaurants and make completely new menus for both of them” Erina snapped, knowing he must be as tired as she was.

Although she had taken occasional flights to check out her restaurants, it usually only lasted two days at most and she returned to Japan. He had been away from home for almost four months already.

“Let's take a few days for us.” Erina rolled her eyes at his subtle insistence, and snorted under her breath.

“Yukihira, I remember that your itinerary is not free in the coming months too, and I barely have time to catch my breath, as for-”

“Let's do that space, then,” he interrupted, Erina saw him ran a hand through his red and short hair, in a clear sign of weariness. “We both need it and I'm sure Arato is on the verge of collapsing knowing that you do not have time for yourself.” Erina narrowed her eyes, knowing he was right about Hisako.

He really was right about everything, but that was something she wasn't going to tell him.

“Besides” Sōma added, “I can barely remember what it feels like to kiss you.” Erina's cheeks heated up and Soma's mischievous smile told her that he had fulfilled his purpose with those words.

“You're an idiot,” Erina whispered. “If you almost don't remember, then I do not remember it at all” she countered, which caused the redhead to let out a low whistle.

“If I were so easy to forget, I don't think you were still with me,” Sōma replied mockingly. “But I'll take this as another challenge.” Erina saw him scratch his chest absentmindedly. “I'll refresh your memory when we meet face to face again.”

“I-I'd like to see you try,” Erina huffed, lying on her side on the huge king-size bed.

Sōma placed himself on his side equally on the bed, bending an arm under his head; his eyes shining with a mixture of affection and slight concern.

“Let's go on vacation somewhere, just a few days,” Sōma said quietly and Erina sighed.

It wasn't that she didn't wanted take a break or see him, she really wanted to, —although it was something she would not say out loud—, the problem is that for their schedules to coincide and rest, they had to advance a lot of work and that was a titanic task.

“We'll see,” was her brief response that was like the loudest affirmation for him.

The next day Sōma called Hisako to explain the situation and see how she could help move things here and there concerning Erina's schedule.

In short: it had been hell. Advance tastings, conclude reviews, interviews and others. Sōma almost did not succeed, having been invited with much anticipation to the festival of culture and gastronomy of Tiradentes in the city of Minas Gerais, Brazil, the same with a duration of ten days and, as a guest chef in the final days, Sōma had to be there.

He left for the airport in Rio de Janeiro as soon as his shift ended and 21 hours later, he arrived in Japan with just enough time to board the flight from Narita airport to Okinawa.

Due to the fair time he would arrive, he and Erina had agreed to meet at the airport to depart together to Okinawa.

As soon he entered the terminal, he pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his jacket, seeing the list of notifications of messages on his lock screen, he slid them to remove them and among many, he saw that she had sent him a message almost one hour ago that simply read "IASS Executive Lounge".

And yes, in that VIP room located on the fifth floor of the airport, he found her.

Due to the time and type of flight, there were barely three other people apart from her sitting scattered throughout the room, which made it even easier to locate her figure sitting in a corner, while typing at full speed on her mobile.

“Please, tell me you're not working anymore,” Was his greeting, she stopped short and looked up in his direction quickly.

“Yukihira,” Erina muttered, surprised to see him in front of her in flesh after all this time. Sōma did not waited much longer and leaned down to give her a quick kiss on the lips.

Erina blinked, surprised at the chasteness of the kiss and began to feel her cheeks a little bit warmer than before, while looking around to see if someone had seen them.

“This is a public place!” She scolded him in a low, hurried voice.

“Because it's a public place has been so fast,” Sōma answered, placing that smile full of self-confidence. “But don't worry Nakiri, later there will be no one to look at us.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb before resting his forehead on hers and breathing her.

“Hentai,” Erina whispered, noticing even more closely how tired the redhead looked, just as herself.

“We should be get going to the boarding gate.” He felt her nod against him. “I missed you,” he whispered softly, but with enough strength for her to listen.

Erina's heart gave two acrobatic jumps worthy of an Olympic gold medal.

“Me too,” was all she could say, allowing herself to be honest in that brief moment of weakness, stroking one of his cheeks with the tips of her fingers.

After the regulations and boarding the plane, although he didn't wanted to, as soon as they were in the air, Sōma fell asleep, exhausted, during almost the whole flight, awakening from time to time to make sure that she was still at his side and to slightly squeeze her hand between his.

During the same, Erina barely slept but she was comforted by the warmth and security offered by those long, bronzed fingers trapping hers.

-/-/-

Sōma caressed Erina's hair in a distracted way, occasionally massaging her scalp, exerting little pressure

He moved his right leg subtly, causing the hammock to continue moving smoothly. If they could stay like this for a while longer than those few days…

Their lives after Tōtsuki had been a coming and going, opening restaurants, recognitions, always focused on the next culinary goal. It surprised him that despite all the time that had passed, they were still in that relationship where they could barely see each other.

He knew that at some point they must slow down, specially him. He only hoped that when the time came, she would be willing to slow down her pace of life along with him.

Meanwhile —he left a kiss on the top of her head— they could enjoy these little moments that they tried to steal from time.

He felt her move close to him and turned his gaze down, seeing her frown a little, as she always did before she awoke.

“Shh, sleep a little longer, Erina,” He said in a whisper; his fingers continued to caress Erina’s hair gently as she rubbed her face against the redhead's chest.

He sensed how she breathed deeply and then settled back against him, while her hand lazily drew nonsense patterns on his abdomen, causing him a slight tingling.

Sōma continued to move the hammock gently, while his hand had moved to her arm, stroking it with the tips of his fingers.

At some point Sōma was dragged into the dream world along with her and therefore the hammock stopped its gentle swing but even that did not cause either of them to wake up.

The feeling of comfort and security that they felt next to each other was enough to keep them asleep a little bit more.

—End—

The idea came up because of a prompt that was about A falling asleep on B's chest as he rocked the hammock where they were lying.

Well, it will not be the masterpiece but it is better than nothing, hahaha (ahem), I hope that you all can enjoy this small story and thank you for reading, until the next time :D

¡Ja ne!

#shokugeki no soma #nakiri erina #yukihira soma #soueri #sorina #fanfiction #shokugeki no soma fanfiction #sns fanfic #i'm tired of waiting for tumblr fix things #the lines just keep disappearing from the mobile version #ugh!#i hope that anyone who reads this can enjoy it even with this problems

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canaryatlaw · 6 years ago

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Alright, I’m on the plane and writing but I’m way tired so I may be somewhat brief about things. Today was awesome. My alarm went off a 8:30, and I got up and took a shower, then did my make up, got dressed, and ready to go. While I was in the process of doing this I got a phone call, said it was from Chicago so I picked up, and it was one of the guys I interviewed with Friday, the one who had called me previously, and basically offering me the job which is pretty wild?? Like I feel like there were probably law students who clerked at PI firms during law school that would’ve been more experienced but I guess I convinced them I knew enough from working on my dads cases. They want me to come in tomorrow at 9 to sign some stuff and get going, so that’s gonna be a short turn around time. But yeah, we headed out and over to a Starbucks to get breakfast then went over to the con center, which was massive. We found our way through and went to Brandon’s line right away, where we gave him the atom shirt we had found at WW Chicago for him. After that we wandered around the show floor for a bit before waiting for their panel. The panel going on before theirs happened to be the Smallville one with Tom Welling and Michael Rosenbaum which I wasn’t gonna go to because I just saw them but we ended up sitting in on a bit of it and it was great. The legends panel was great too, a lot of good questions prompting some good answers, so that was enjoyable. After that we killed a bit more time on the show floor before heading into autographs. The schedule was the dual op for Tom Welling and Brandon which I was doing , then the Brandon and Caity duo which Jess was doing, and then the Caity single ones which I was also doing, so basically it was all crunched together. The supermen one went pretty well, I didn’t quite get the facial expression I was hoping for but it was still a solid picture. I told Tom I hadn’t cut my hair in the two weeks since I’ve seen him because he said I should grow it out 😂 he laughed at that. So that was done pretty quickly, and pretty soon after I was in line for the Caity op. I was doing my 3x10 Sara Lance cosplay and I hadn’t gotten to say hi to Caity yet, so she saw it for the first time in the photo op and was like wow I love it!! Which made me happy of course, and we took the photo like we were ready to fight which turned out good, and then she was like oh it’s good to see you again I’m glad you could come and I’m like !!! She recognized me with a blonde wig on and no prompting from me whatsoever?? Like usually my distinctive feature is my short red hair or white canary cosplay and we had neither of those and she still recognized me, so that made me happy. When I got out I ran to her line where Jess had been waiting where we got our ops signed and took some selfies. I had requests from friends to ask about upcoming cons she might be doing, sadly she said she didn’t think she had anything planned (but apparently yesterday said she would be going to Clexacon so that’s still a possibility) and that she was definitely not doing HVFF San Jose or love fest in Spain next year, as she was trying to travel less, which I can’t blame her for. But yeah, it’s always great to see her. We hopped right over to Brandon’s line after and showed him our ops which he signed and just generally had fun and nice conversation with him, which is always good. Once we said our goodbyes we decided to head out, it was around 3:30 at this point and we needed food, so we ended up going to a Denny’s nearby which is always a good option.

After that we killed a bit of time walking by the river which was very pretty before getting an Uber to take us back to our Airbnb go grab our bags and then on to the airport. Got through everything okay, then we just had to wait since it was still pretty early. So I went on the chromebook I brought with me (instead of my usual MacBook) and basically goofed off for a while and laughed, it was fun. And yeah, then we boarded the plane and now we’re here and god I’m fucking exhausted so I’m gonna leave this here. Goodnight friends. Hope you had an awesome weekend too.

Update: off the plane, it’s 6:22 am and I have to be at my new job at 9 with a solid hour commute to this office (hopefully not the one I’ll stay at). Got about 3 hours of sleep. It’s gonna be a rough day.

#daily journal #September 2018 #rachel’s cosplay adventures #Jess tag

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apricotstone47 · 7 years ago

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Wontorra Interview with Erik Durm complete

W: Welcome to the Unitymedia digitaltalk. Today with BVB-star Erik Durm. We are very happy that he is here with us today, [turns to Erik] because you were inured for a long time and you had your comeback to the squad this weekend. First question: How are you feeling and what was it like to be back in the squad ?

E:I'm feeling fine and of course I was very happy to be back in the squad. Sadly this was my third long-term injury ,so its even nicer to be finally back again. This counts for me but as well for my family and friends they are all happy that I'm back again. (unimportant stuff) W: As I said, 140 days are a very long time. How did you deal with that, not able to do anything. How did you tackle this challenge and how did you distract yourself or maybe even work off ? E: Well it is more work off than distract myself. But as I said this was my third time and I wanted to be out of Dortmund, so I went to Munich for my reha and that was really good for me. Both physically and mentally. My family and friends often visited me and I was in regular exchange with our other injured players. It was helpful for everyone of us to share their “Misery” with the others. So it was good. W: Now that you are back: What are your personal targets for 2018 ? E: I think I’m saying this ,every year but I want to stay healthy and without any injuries... with everything else I will see what comes. And it would be of course cool if we would reach the Euroleague final. But, and that is something I’ve learned in the past three years: the health is the most important thing. W: Sunday Dortmund played 0-0 against Wolfsburg. It was your first game on the bench. How would you evaluate this match ? E: Yeah... both teams had their problem entering the match. But nethertheless we played forward and we had two to three very good chances. We can live with that point, especially because the other teams played a little bit for us as well. Now it is our turn to beat Berlin on friday and take the three points hime, and then we are good in the table.

W: During your injurytime a lot of things have changed here in Dortmund. Peter Stöger, thats how the new coach is called. Now that you have trained under him and collected first impressions... what is your feeling about him ? E: He is a very pleasant, good coach. He have a lot of fun in the training right now, and I think that is good for all of us. But I want to say that Peter Bosz was also a very nice guy and a very good coach. But sadly it didn’t worked out very well at the end, for whatever reason. - Therefore we are happy that we have Peter Stöger now. By now I can’t tell much about him, for obvious reasons, but I know that it makes a lot of fun to train on the pitch with him. W: The next tasks for the team are Berlin away and then Freiburg at home. What are the targets the team set themselves for this matches ? E: Of course we want to win both of the games to get 6 points, so we can take back the second position behind Bayern again. Thats our big goal and I believe that we have the squad to make this. Especially because more and more injured players are coming back. I’m positiv that we can make this. W: Dortmund’s new player, Manuel Akanji, what is he like ? Did you meet yet ? E: He is a very calm guy, like everybody from Switzerland I think. He is nice, a good boy and the two trainings we had together, he trained well. He seems to be down to earth. That is all I can tell by now. W: During our talks the first questions arrived from the fans. Lets talk a bit about you. What do you like to do here in Dortmund ? E: Oh.. privat... ehm... the obvious stuff... doing much with friends, like playing a small billiard-tournament, I like to stay at home, to relax and to watch a bit netflix. Nothing spectacular. W: Its a big discussion topic, that former football players had a bit more freedom. Because todays players are under more pressure, people expect more from them, in sport way. What are you thinking of this ? E: I believe so. Football got even more professional in recent years, and I am saying this with the hope that i wont hurt anybody. [Nobby Dickel enters the conversation and says to Erik: “ Well now i listen very carefully Erik”] - Yes Nobby, well I think we today are a bit more professional than you back then. [Nobby: I dont believe so] And thats why I think, an I#m speaking for me and my team, we don't really need this going out and drinking and partying. [Nobby: But It ca help sometimes ? To get your head free or to calm down when you are a bit angry?] Yes maybe but for me.... I have to be honest I dont like it.. and I am happy about this. [Nobby: Maybe we two should go out some day ?] W: So if you cant tell us something about the clubs and pubs here in Dortmund, because your are not familiar with then, you can tell us something about the atmosphere in this stadium. We all now, the atmosphere here is unique. The fans want to know how you experience this on the pitch. E:Of course we can hear the fans when we are playing. I mean you are sometimes in like a tunnel, when you have the ball on your foot or when you into the game but i hear them when I run to the side line for a throw in. Or I hear them when the match is paused for a bit. I still get goosebumps, especially when I look at the Südtribüne. It was also a good feeling being back on the bench, and experience this again. - I think for a football player there is nothing more beautiful then coming in our stadium, going onto this pitch. And of course it is even more beautiful if you are able to play for this team. And get the support. W: What were your three Top-Moments here in the Signal Iduna Park ? E: (thinks for a longtime) For me, of course the match were I scored my first Bundesliga goal against Hertha BSC Berlin. To be honest i was a bit shocked that I’ve scored that goal, I wasn't prepared for this and strangely enough I ran away from the Süd.. I ran towards Schmelle because I didn't know where to go and what to do..... And the other two ....Derby wins.Because of the atmosphere....Any my first championsleague home match against Marseille. W: This are really special moment. Now we have the first fan question. Who is your [football] idol ? [laughs] And there is Nobby Dickel waving. But you can be honest Erik. E: After Nobby... my first idol was Luis Figo when I was a little boy... W: [interrupts] Excuse me but I have to tell a personal story here. I met him once in a holiday. He was in the same hotel and I was so excited that i went to him like a groupie and asked for a picture with him.He is really such a big player.... E: I would have done it like this too..... I think. But like I said as a kid i idolized him because he was so good at Real Madrid and I think that was my first jersey wich my dad has bought me. A Real Madrid Figo jersey. Furthermore I was a big FC Kaiserslautern fan back then and of course Miro Klose was a hero for me.. that why it was so special for me to play the world cup with him. Those two..... and Nobby... those three are my big idols W: You brought up the World Cup, maybe you could look back and tell us how you experienced this summer ? E: I still didn't processed all the experiences I`ve made, there was no time for this. It was such an extreme year. I was retrained from striker to right back and right wing, had my first championsleague game, like I told earlier, a year later I was able to go to Brazil and we won there and became World Champions. For me, my family and for my friends it was something like the highlight of a carrier. Many things changed after that. I was world cup winner and everybody knew it, so they measured me on this. It wasn’t easy for me. Also because this year Dortmund didn't play well. I think we were on place 18 back then... again an extreme. It wasn't easy to deal with this positiv and negativ extremes. W: Now in 2018 we have a World cup again. What do you think ? How possible is it for the german national team to become world champion again ?

E: I think we are one of the top-favorites. We have really good players and I believe it will become hard for Löw to pick the right players for Russia. Germany is a tournament team and thats why I think that we are top favorites alongside France and Spain. W: What would be your dream final ?

E: Difficult.... Germany against France with a happy end for us.

W: Who is the best player you’ve ever played with ?

E: First of all I play with so many really really good players together. Though I have to say that Ousmane Dembélé was really special with his technique, speed and his understanding of the game. So I think he is the best Player I’ve ever played with. He made things in training, where I felt.. yeah.. a bit stupid to be honest when I was his opponent. Because he is so good... W: A really nice story. Why BVB and not FSV ?

E: I assume with FSV they mean Mainz. Mainz was my youth club. I was in the A-youth.. and the Coach and the Vice Coach from Wolfsburg, which we played on the weekend, were my first coaches in Mainz. Mainz wanted to keep me back then, but they had a few problems with the headquarters and we couldn't reach the same level, and then Dortmund contacted me. As Kloppo went trough the door, shook my hand and told me that there is also a chance for me playing Bundesliga in Dortmund, I knew that I wanted to play for Dortmund. W: You said you shot your first Bundesliga goal agains Berlin. Maybe you can score your next goal against Hertha next weekend ? Would be a good time. E: Yes the time would be good, but first I have to get in the squad. This is the most important thing for me. The coach has good options and we have a lot of fit players. I will be happy If I’m in the squad and its important for us to take the three points back home. W:And to stay healthy. Thank you very much Erik for this open talk

#Borussia Dortmund #erik durm

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fuckyeslilkim · 7 years ago

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Throwback Interview: The Mask Of Lil’ Kim

In a nondescript warehouse in Manhattan's Chelsea district, the rapper Lil' Kim is being primed for yet another fashion shoot. The theme of the day is baby-doll innocence, and the 4-foot-11 celebrity is appropriately undressed in a sheer blue and pink negligee and high-heeled sandals. With the final touches of turquoise eye shadow, pink lips and, of course, her trademark blond wig and blue contact lenses in place, the picture is complete. Sex symbol. Feminist icon. Freak mama.

Change the circumstances only slightly and you could imagine a porn shoot happening in this warehouse. The final products--the photographs that will sell Kim's raunchy lyrics and persona to the world--often come close to that. A full-page advertisement for her new album, "The Notorious K.I.M.," shows the star in the back seat of a limousine, naked except for black spike-heel boots and a safari-style hat. It's like the kind of pinup men find useful in prison cells and toilets.

But nobody seems bothered by the actual work of this shoot--least of all Kim, who patiently strips down. Quite the contrary: She considers herself a good role model--an empowered, independent woman in the highly misogynistic world of rap. Her fans include many young women who find in her an enviable example of personal strength.

To cash in on the marketing moment, corporate America has come running, showering her with endorsement offers--from Candie's shoes to Viva Glam lipstick. She earns cover treatments from mainstream and edgy magazines alike: The Source, XXXL, Vibe, Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, Jet, Interview (on which she appeared wearing nothing but head-to-toe Louis Vuitton body tattoos). And now, Atlantic Records has provided the 25-year-old with her own label, Queen Bee.

From the moment she was discovered by rapper Christopher Wallace (a k a Notorious B.I.G., a k a Biggie Smalls) as a round-the-way girl roaming the streets of Brooklyn's Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood, Kimberly Jones has set new standards for female rappers. Her 1996 solo debut, "Hardcore," made the highest-ever debut on the Billboard charts for a female rap artist. An unparalleled fusion of hip-hop and pornography, the album opens with a scene in which we hear a fan buy a ticket to a triple-X flick, and then loudly pleasure himself while watching Kim onscreen.

At last year's MTV Music Awards, her outfit spawned a media frenzy fueled by the shocked response of presenter Diana Ross, who reached out and jiggled Kim's exposed breast on national television. (Ross later offered a public apology, noting that she thought Kim "was beautiful and . . . didn't need to dress in that manner.") The incident solidified Kim's image of sexual fearlessness--and her career as a fashion trendsetter.

We've seen so much of her, and yet nothing at all. Who is Lil' Kim, really?

Talking to her, you're taken by any number of contradictions. She considers herself a devoted child of God, for example. "I'm not perfect," she explains. "I mess up. I'm not Miss Sanctified, but I believe in my Father. We have a really good relationship."

She has allowed powerful men to shape and exploit her sexpot image, but touts her own brand of feminism. "If you look at me, no man has really given me anything," she contends. "I got my own money."

She raps about the joys of fellatio, but likens herself to Queen Elizabeth, the so-called Virgin Queen of England. ("I watch that movie over and over again," she says.) Like Elizabeth, she has had an unhappy love life. "I had a lot of guys betray me," Kim says, "and she reminds me of myself because, toward the end, she really wanted a man. She was lonely. She didn't wanna be this strong woman that everybody portrayed her to be, but she had to be."

On one point the star is adamant: Lil' Kim is not Kimberly Jones.

Except: "Most of the things that I talk about [in my lyrics], yeah, they're true." In the song "Hold On," for example, "I talk about the pain of being pregnant and having an abortion."

"I talk about the things that women have gone through that they don't think I've gone through," she says. "Like fightin' with your man or losin' a man to death. Being alone. I talk about just bein' in the streets having no money and having to do illegal things to get the money."

All of which happened, too.

So, after one spends many hours with both Lil' Kim the rapper and Kimberly Jones the woman, the similarities between the two become as apparent as the differences. "We wear the mask that grins and lies," wrote Paul Laurence Dunbar, "with torn and bleeding hearts we smile."

It is not easy to remove the mask of Lil' Kim, which she wears as a brilliant defense against full disclosure. She doesn't want to show us all of the damage that lies underneath. Like many other black women, she has become so good at conjuring the mask--signifying at a moment's notice, for hire--that we no longer know where it ends. Or where Kimberly Jones begins.

In the June issue of Vibe magazine, there is a photograph of young Kim dressed in a neat school uniform: plaid dress, white blouse, knee socks. She is brown-skinned, with brown eyes and nappy hair, neatly pulled into a bun. She sits like a proper schoolgirl with her hands folded in her lap and legs crossed at the ankles, smiling and polite.

But inside, she feels ugly. She thinks of herself as too dark and too short. She has just moved to an all-white neighborhood in suburban New Rochelle, N.Y., where little blond girls tease her and confirm her monstrosity.

Her mother, Ruby Mae Jones, brought her to live there, at age 8, fleeing the ruins of a marriage. But Kim wants to go back to Brooklyn. She wants to go home, to her old neighborhood where little girls look like her. Even if it means going back to the home of her father, Linwood Jones, a former military man who enforced a brutal discipline on wife and children.

"There was a great deal of verbal abuse," she recalls. "And there was times . . . when my mother had black eyes. My father told people she had fallen."

Linwood Jones could not be reached for comment, and there is no record of his having spoken publicly about his daughter's career or her allegations of physical abuse. According to Kim, he did comment privately on her overtly sexual image, asking that she "tone it down."

After her parents' separation in 1983, Kim's life became increasingly unstable. At first she and older brother Christopher stayed with their mother, who relied on the kindness of friends for shelter--including the time spent in New Rochelle. But when options ran out, Ruby Mae Jones granted custody of her children to her husband.

"I was basically living out of the trunk of my car," Kim's mother explains over a posh dinner in a New York restaurant--a contrast made all the more striking by her fur coat and her gold-and-diamond-spangled hands. "And I didn't feel it was appropriate for [the children]. So I let Kim go to live with her father."

When he was away--sometimes for weeks, for reserve duty--the children were deposited with an aunt who was raising several sons of her own. "I grew up around . . . maybe eight guys in my family," says Kim. "I stayed with my cousins when my father went away. They lived in the projects."

"Kim had no sisters," adds Ruby Mae Jones. "She was surrounded by boys all the time. But she had such a strong personality, I never had to worry about her taking care of herself. I knew that she would be able to do that. From when she was like 2."

Despite the frequent absences, father and daughter remained on good terms during Kim's prepubescent years.

"We were very close," she recalls, "until I was about 13." Which is when Kim committed an egregious offense in her father's eyes: She liked a boy and agreed to be his girlfriend. Although the circumstances seemed innocent enough by Kim's account--the boy was 15, a schoolmate--Linwood Jones was outraged. Kim says he called her a bitch and a whore, "just like your mother."

The words had a devastating effect. "If he hadn't said what he said to me," speculates Kim, allowing the idea to play in her head for a moment, "I probably would have stayed a virgin until I was 21. But after that I rebelled."

Fights between father and daughter became more frequent--and violent, she says. On at least one occasion, Kim remembers, her morning wake-up call was a fist crashing into her face. At the age of 14, she packed a bag and hit the streets, wandering in and out of neighbors' homes. Lil' Kim has often described her life during those years as a procession of doing "whatever I had to do to survive."

She peddled drugs for boyfriends. Worked odd jobs in department stores. And had sex with the men who housed and fed her. By the time she met up-and-coming rapper Biggie Smalls at the age of 17, Kim was, by her own admission, desperately in need of protection.

Biggie, who at age 19 was a 6-foot-3, 300-pound drug dealer who had already done nine months in jail, signed on for the job--bringing Kim into the fold of what everyone called the "B.I.G. family." There was Sean "Puffy" Combs, who had been working day and night to launch Biggie on his emerging label, Bad Boy Entertainment; Mary J. Blige, whose success as an R&B artist had also been strongly influenced by Puffy's hand; Damion "D-Roc" Butler, Biggie's friend and security guard; and "the boys"--James "Lil' Caesar" Lloyd, Antoine "Banga" Spain, and Money-L, who would later become members of Junior M.A.F.I.A. (Masters at Finding Intelligent Attitudes), a rap group Biggie hoped to launch on the momentum of his own success.

"She came from the streets," says 22-year-old Spain, who lives today, along with several of the other "boys," in Kim's New Jersey mansion. "I could relate to her 'cause my mom sent me to the city when I was, like, 13."

It was at Wallace's behest that Kimberly Jones assumed the role of Lil' Kim--a vulgar-mouthed emblem of what had been dubbed "porno rap." Following Biggie's lead, the young protege exploded onto the hip-hop scene as the lone female member of Junior M.A.F.I.A. at the age of 20.

Almost immediately, Kim became the showcase of the act. They were like "peanut butter and jelly," says Voletta Wallace, Biggie's mother. "Kim and Christopher were the same voice."

And that voice was determined to push the limits of gangsta rap, a genre whose biggest selling points were unabashed violence and uncensored sex.

By the mid-1990s Biggie Smalls and his crew were at the top of their game. Biggie's second album, "Life After Death," would eventually sell eight times platinum, and with the release of her 1995 solo debut, "Hardcore," Kim arrived in her own right. But the good times were not to last. Kim loved Biggie and hoped to be his wife, but he married and then quickly separated from R&B artist Faith Evans (who would also become the mother of his son, Christopher). There were rumors that Evans had been having an affair with rapper and longtime Biggie rival Tupac Shakur. One Biggie music video co-starred Kim as the defiant and loyal mistress.

Amid the lovers' quarrels and sexual betrayals, tragedy struck in the early hours of March 9, 1997. Following a Soul Train Music Awards party in Los Angeles, a still-unknown killer approached the passenger side of Biggie's GMC Suburban and unloaded seven rounds into the rapper's head and body at close range. Both Lil' Caesar and Damion Butler were unharmed as they ducked down in the back seat. Puffy, who was driving his own Suburban in front of the target vehicle, rushed to Biggie's side reciting psalms. But Christopher Wallace was dead at age 24.

Since the loss of her mentor, Kim's allegiance has remained eerily well preserved. In the immediate aftermath, she and the Junior M.A.F.I.A. boys stayed in Big's New Jersey condominium--where, according to Kim, she shared her slain lover's bedroom with her would-be mother-in-law, Voletta Wallace, and T'yanna, Biggie's daughter from a previous relationship.

In an article for People magazine, a mourning Kim posed for the camera draped in Biggie's shirt, coat and hat. Even today, more than three years after his death, she often refers to her "big poppa" in conversation and lyrics, and even credits the rapper as a posthumous producer on her new album. The bond seems unhealthy, as even Kim's friend Blige noted in an interview: a "kind of co-dependency with someone who just isn't here anymore."

It took Kim four years to release her second album, which had been held up due to conflicts with her label, the theft of material by bootleggers and her own creative process. Meanwhile, Kim's marketing machine hummed along, patiently building her image despite a lack of new releases.

"She's brilliant," says Michael Elliot, president of Source Entertainment. "I mean, here's a woman who [hadn't] had an album out in years and she's a presenter at award shows, and a successful model. She's found a way to market herself and, at the end of the day, she's a businesswoman."

"I think she's a feminist in a funny sort of way," says John Dempsey, president of MAC cosmetics, one of many packagers that hold up the Kim image as a bold new form of sexual expression. "She speaks like a man would speak."

Her fans agree. "She doesn't care what anybody has to say," says 19-year-old Teena Marie Schexnayder, a Los Angeles psychology student and aspiring singer. "She's a bad girl . . . doing whatever she has to do to survive. She's deep. I love the stuff she talks about."

While '80s female rappers like Queen Latifah and MC Lyte embraced "womanist" images, combining ancestral and gender consciousness, Kim provides a very different social commentary for young black women and men. The message behind Lil' Kim is, in fact, heartbreakingly feeble.

Sex, she believes, is a commodity. It is a way for a woman to earn money--and, in her view, respect. She learned that lesson on the streets. As for the women selling their bodies, "I don't see anything wrong with that."

"Money is power," says Kim, and "a lot of women out there are just givin' it away." Kim aims to change that. As she raps in her new single "Diamonds" (sung to the tune of Diana Ross's "I Want Muscle"):

"She says she wants a man / To buy her a Lexus Land/ Well that's all right for her / Still it ain't enough for me / I don't care if he's young or old / Just make him very rich / I want diamonds / This p---- ain't for free."

Is this really feminism?

"I'm a feminist because I love women," she ventures, graciously asking her interviewer to correct her if she misunderstands the term. "And I feel like, in this rapping game, men have been bashing women for years. But some women overemphasize that feminism word. And some of them are very male-bashing. I'm not a male basher."

In her collection of images titled "Women," photographer Annie Leibovitz captures something of the inner sorrow of Kimberly Jones, a black girl who covets blue eyes and blond hair. Juxtaposed with the image of a gloriously dreadlocked Toni Morrison, who is seen looking into a wide expanse of clouds and possibility, Kim appears small and helpless against a wall of color that threatens to engulf her--her nipples visible beneath a trashy net T-shirt. In this image, we see more of Kimberly Jones than Lil' Kim: the real woman who has masked private suffering as public defiance.

"She's just like every little abused girl that I knew growing up," asserts Asha Bandele, a poet, author and critic who is attuned to hip-hop culture. "I do not believe that Kim is in control of her image because there's nothing powerful about it, nothing rounded, nothing human. It's a caricature. Just like when you see a male presenting himself as only a gangsta. . . . We're so much more complicated than that."

But if it is icon status we're shooting for, Kimberly Jones is the real deal. Closer in spirit to Monroe than Madonna, she is a genuine enigma, which is precisely why she intrigues us. The same little girl who remembers jumping into the middle of a fight between her father and older brother (taking a chair across her stomach in the process) became the grown-up Lil' Kim, who prefers "big poppa" lovers because daddies "don't let nothin' happen to their baby girl."

"Kim needs to ask herself what she's selling," says Voletta Wallace in her Jamaican-accented, no-nonsense way. "When my son was here, that's all you would hear: Kim and Christopher [saying], 'Sex sells, sex sells.'

"But . . . when you look at Kim, the strength is there. The beauty is there. The talent is there. And she needs to let [the world] know . . . they need to see a human being. She needs to find her inner self and see what she has to offer."

At the Gazelle Beauty Center and Day Spa in Manhattan, I have requested a private room in which to interview Kim. I am trying to get closer to the real woman, to get behind the mask. But it is a busy day and there are constant interruptions from other clients (who include guests on "The Montel Williams Show"). Nevertheless, Kim and I enjoy a lunch of Caesar salads, as well as joint manicures, pedicures, massages and facials.

We are two sisters drinking herbal tea now, and Kim is relaxed, makeup-less and wearing a cozy white robe and paper slippers.

Unanswered questions have been nagging at me. Kim is like so many other women, it seems to me, who have grown up with trauma. And yet there is no talk of the long-term effects. I decide to put the question of sexual abuse to her plainly. She tells me that yes, something did happen in the home of a relative when she was a girl, but she doesn't want to get into the details. She has never talked about this before. She doesn't want to dwell on the pain. I am saddened by her admission, and the fact that so many years later, she is still so clearly devastated.

And I am saddened that even here, in a place for relaxation and nurturing, she is unable to divest herself, even for a few hours, of the blue contact lenses and blond wig.

"Think about it," she confesses when I ask her to talk about her experience of skin color. "The girls that [men] dated when I was younger were light-skinned and tall. I'm short and brown-skinned. And I always wondered . . . how do I fit in?"

Did she ever overcome the feeling of being ugly?

"I really haven't," she admits. "Honestly, though, I think being Lil' Kim the rapper helped me deal with it better. Because I got to dress up in expensive clothes, and I got to look like a movie star or whatever. I think doing photo shoots and seeing all the people respond to me has helped. [But] I still don't see what they see."

can't help but think of Kim as standing on a precipice, making a great leap toward transformation. In recent years, she has expressed a desire to tone down the raunch and express more of "who I really am." There are rumors that she was wary about spreading her legs for the photo shoot for "Hardcore," and she herself has said she would have rather done four sexual songs instead of seven. "You get tired of certain images," she explains.

So what's stopping Lil' Kim from showing us more of Kimberly Jones? "It's hard," she says. "Because in our world, the rap world, you have this thing called selling out. You don't want people who liked you for doing a certain thing on your first album to not like you for not doing it on the second album. So I have to stay in that realm."

Yes, there are market forces pushing her to stay in the same place, but the market is also a fickle lover and people tire of what is too easy to predict. "Notorious K.I.M." started out at No. 4 on the Billboard album chart, but has slipped to No. 35.

"How much more of her body can she show?" asks Ramon Hervey, manager for R&B artist Kenny "Babyface" Edmonds. "From Madonna to Prince, everybody has to re-create themselves at some point."

"I see the strength in her," Mary J. Blige says of her friend. "All she's gotta do is let go of the fear."

Source: The Washington Post

#A must read #lil kim #lil' kim #rap #rapper #hiphop #hip hop #female rap #female rapper #washington post #queen bee #queen of rap #fashion #real life #interview

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katemarley · 7 years ago

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fanfiction: a chapter in their career

Fandom: Hetalia - Axis Powers Pairing: Austria/Spain Characters: Austria, Spain, Estonia, Netherlands Rating: T

Summary: As a race engineer, Roderich Edelstein is the right hand of Formula 1 driver Antonio Fernández Carriedo. Roderich works hard to ensure Antonio is able to make the most of his car at all times. With rivals who never rest and up-to-date technical gadgets that aren’t always reliable, theirs is a demanding job. Being hopelessly in love with each other doesn’t make things easier.

A belated birthday gift for @salytierra! I hope you’ll like this.

This story is also available on my AO3 and fanfiction net.

“I’m getting closer to Bonnefoy, but the motor sounds strange,” Roderich heard Antonio’s voice over the pit to car radio.

“Need to check, but you go on. It’s only three laps,” he told his driver, closing the voice channel in order to consult with the data engineers of their team. Roderich was moderately worried. Antonio and him both knew three laps could be a very long time if something serious was wrong with the car.

“The motor, right?” was the first thing Eduard von Bock, one of the data engineers, told him.

“I don’t like the sound of that.” The race engineer instinctively pulled a face, even if Eduard couldn’t see that.

“Yeah,” Eduard said. “About that. The bad news is I can’t tell you what exactly is wrong with the motor at this point. All I know is it’s got something to do with the ERS and it’s making the motor overheat rather quickly.” ERS was short for Energy Recovery System, a system whose purpose it was to retract energy from a car’s exhaust gas stream. “He should switch that one off.”

“Try switching the ERS off,” Roderich told Antonio as soon as he had him on the radio again. “The motor is overheating because of it, but we don’t know why.”

There was a short pause in the channel.

“Well, fuck.”

“You can’t switch it off?”

“I can’t do anything about the motor.”

Roderich swallowed a few swearwords of his own. They were so close to the finish, on position two with one car and on position five with the other, and now technical problems ensued.

“Okay, then focus on completing this race and don’t risk anything.” Unsatisfying as it was, it was the only thing he could tell his driver right now. Of course they would analyse the problem as soon as both Antonio’s and Jan’s car were back in the box. At least Jan, the second driver of their team, appeared to be doing all right. As long as a car was on the circuit, however, there wasn’t much they could do if the motor didn’t behave in the way it was supposed to.

The following minutes were among the longest in Roderich’s life, and he knew this was even truer for Antonio. Had he been a nail biter, that would have been the moment in which he’d have resorted to that bad habit. The way it was, he only grit his teeth and pressed his lips together, watching the video coverage of the race while listening to a multitude of pieces of information over the team radio and ever more worrying status reports on the motor.

It was almost anticlimactic when it happened. During a straight passage, Antonio’s motor simply stopped working, even allowing him to steer his car to the side before it came to a halt.

During the final lap. On position two.

Roderich could hear swearing from Antonio over the pit to car radio. His own feelings were crushing disappointment rather than anything else, but there was no way he could allow his emotions to rule him now. Antonio was a very good and reliable driver, but he had a hard time dealing with disappointments that weren’t his fault. And in many cases, a motor that didn’t survive a race was not the driver’s fault.

Knowing Antonio very well by this point, Roderich left the pit as soon as the race was over, not even waiting to congratulate Jan for his fourth place. A final glance at the live coverage told him that Antonio had left his car by now. He was leaning against the wall separating the start and finishing straight from the pit lane, helmet next to him in the grass, arms crossed over his knee. Roderich walked up to him, ignoring the people running to and fro and the reporters who tried to get an interview from a driver or a team leader.

“Go away, Rode,” Antonio mumbled as soon as Roderich was close.

“No.” He flopped down in the grass beside the disappointed driver.

“I don’t want to hear anything.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“But you will! How this is not my fault. How it wasn’t my fault I was kicked out of the race by that crash in Australia, and how my car getting hit by debris from that crash in Canada wasn’t my fault either.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It may not have been my fault, but in the end, it’s only the result that counts. And the result is that I didn’t complete three races this season so far, no matter the reasons.”

“There’s still half the season ahead of you,” Roderich pointed out. He attempted to speak soothingly. Sometimes it worked; other times, it only made Antonio more aggressive. “As time goes on, the others will have problems, too. Even Bonnefoy and Adnan. You can still win.” Francis Bonnefoy and Sadık Adnan were the drivers of their major competitor, with Bonnefoy currently on position 1 and Adnan on position 3 in this year’s driver’s championship.

This time, Roderich’s words seemed to have a calming effect. Antonio sighed.

“You know what I’d really like to do now?”

Roderich blinked, waiting for an answer. Antonio covered his mouth with an arm, taking precautions so no lip-reader could figure out what he was saying. There were cameras everywhere, and many things were treated as secrets by the teams.

This wasn’t one of them.

“I’d like to rest my head in your lap and have you pet my hair.”

There was a moment’s silence in which Roderich needed to recover from a sudden impulse to hug Antonio.

“We’ll get to that,” he replied. They would indeed. Roderich’s parents lived close to the circuit at Spielberg, Austria, and they didn’t ask questions when he invited a person over to stay whom the media had called “one of his closest friends” more than once.

Of course his parents knew what was up, but the good thing about Formula 1 was that it was pretty normal for a team to stick closely together for most of the year. No one batted an eyelash when a race engineer, as the person working closest with a driver, requested adjacent hotel rooms for last-minute discussions. No one was surprised when race engineers and drivers appeared at the factory together, even if it was a little unusual for a driver to focus this much on the manufacturing of his car. Then again, there were many drivers who were car enthusiasts in general, and Antonio was one of them. Hell, no one even became suspicious when a driver and a race engineer went on holiday together! Booking adjacent rooms, it went without saying.

Sometime towards the beginning of their relationship, they had considered coming out together, only to discard the idea quickly. Both Roderich and Antonio considered themselves bisexual, and the risk to their career, Antonio’s in particular, outweighed all advantages of being open about a potentially short relationship.

They were together for five years now, and Antonio continued to bring that topic up from time to time. It was Roderich’s part to dissuade him from the idea, taking care to act in a driver’s best intentions even when he wasn’t on duty.

Roderich remembered the beginnings of their relationship as if it had started only yesterday. They had been elevated from data to race engineer and from test to regular driver almost at the same time; two ambitious and enthusiastic young men whose aim it was to have the world of Formula 1 racing at their feet. Roderich was the reserved and level-headed part of their alliance and Antonio was the one who carried the audience and the reporters along with his impressive driving skills and warm-hearted personality.

Soon, Roderich caught himself developing a crush on Antonio. His first reaction was to put more distance between them, starting to keep their interactions to a purely professional level. He still came to the parties that were held on race weekends because it was expected, in a way, but he made sure to leave as early as possible. Antonio was kind enough to walk him out of the premises, expressing his regret at Roderich’s early leave. More than once, Roderich was tempted to confess to him why it was wiser that he didn’t stay around, but every time, he didn’t dare to change anything about the way Antonio perceived him. What if the knowledge his race engineer had feelings for him that exceeded any measure of propriety lead to a decrease in his performance on the circuit?

Winter came, and the racing season was over. Roderich hardly saw Antonio anymore; just for the driver’s occasional visit to the factory, getting informed about the development process of the car he would drive the following season. During lunch in the factory canteen, Antonio invited everybody at his table to his birthday party in February. There was hardly any option for Roderich to refuse; not with everybody else at the table accepting enthusiastically.

“I’m very glad you’re coming, too,” Antonio told him right before they said goodbye to each other, looking into his eyes with sincerity. Roderich did his best to ignore the warm and fuzzy feeling that spread through his body at hearing Antonio’s words; to no avail. That feeling carried him through the Christmas season and New Year, inducing him to spend way too much time on selecting an appropriate birthday gift. In the end, he settled on pumpkin oil and Traminer wine from his uncle’s vineyard in south-eastern Styria. During the racing season, he had learned Antonio enjoyed gastronomic specialties, even if he used to eat and drink moderately so as not to add too much to his car’s minimum weight.

The party took place in Madrid where Antonio lived. Like most of the guests, Roderich was staying at a hotel nearby, arriving at Antonio’s house barely later than the designated time. Antonio accepted his gift happily, guiding him to the guests who had already arrived.

The party proceeded quite nicely, with rock music blaring from a hi-fi system in the living room, an assortment of tapas the host had made all by himself, as he assured them proudly, and a variety of alcoholic beverages. Roderich drank a little more than usual because the quality of the wine was outstanding and because he was nervous, but it wasn’t nearly enough to get drunk. Nonetheless, the warm and fuzzy feeling while Antonio talked to him made him question his ability to estimate his limit.

Did he sense correctly that Antonio was spending far more time with him than with his other guests, chatting about his family and about how he had always liked cars, even as a little child? It had to be wishful thinking, Roderich decided. Antonio was just a thoughtful host, dividing his time equally between his guests so everyone received the impression they were important to him.

Nonetheless, Roderich stayed far longer this time than for any of the celebrations during the racing season. Talking to Antonio made him forget the time. There was also the wine and the warm feeling that had come to stay, and in the end, Roderich was the last guest to stay. It was five in the morning; he was pretty tired and a little drunk, and when Antonio put an arm around his shoulder, he allowed it to happen.

“Maybe you should go now,” Antonio said.

“Your body language says something else,” Roderich pointed out. He was too tired to be able to monitor his speech in the way he was used to.

“Maybe that’s because I don’t want you to go.”

There was a short silence. Roderich’s heart suddenly beat twice as fast. He started to hope.

“You don’t know what you’re implying,” he said nonetheless. Antonio wasn’t anybody, after all, and homosexuality in sports was still pretty much of a taboo.

“Yeah, yeah, think of your career and all that jazz,” Antonio said. “I know. Stop acting as the race engineer for a little while, will you?” He took Roderich’s chin in one hand. “It’s okay if I kiss you, right?”

Instead of an answer, Roderich leaned closer, bridging the gap between them.

Kissing Antonio was as pleasant as talking to him. Roderich was too tired to get more than mildly aroused, but these things could wait until later. Antonio holding him, kissing him, running his hands through his hair … Kissing back, tangling his hands in Antonio’s curls, nestling his body against Antonio’s on the couch … That was what mattered for the time being.

Roderich exhaled. Keeping a relationship in a workplace environment meant continuous maintenance work. Then again, that was basically his job description.

“Come along, Toni, you can’t stay here for forever,” he said, getting up from the grass. “You need to shower, and we need to see if the others already found out what was wrong with your motor.”

“Yes.” Antonio sighed. He pushed himself up, picking up his helmet as he did so. Roderich extended a hand to him because it looked a little inelegant. Toni accepted the hand, but only used it to keep his balance.

“Now, Toni, what is it that you’re actually worried about?” Roderich asked as soon as they were back in the pit, having replied to the questions of reporters who had stayed them with a few stock phrases—huge disappointment; need to wait for a thorough analysis—and, of course, after congratulating Jan for coming out fourth. There was a room reserved for the drivers where the two of them were able to talk without disturbance.

“I—,” Antonio started, but an opening door and Eduard’s voice spared him an answer.

“Guys,” he exclaimed. “We located the problem!” Antonio’s attention was easily diverted, not just because of his genuine interest to learn about the reasons for his car’s outage, as Roderich suspected.

“What was it?” Antonio asked, waiting eagerly for Eduard’s reply.

“Part of the insulation chipped, so particles of it got in the oil circuit, damaging the MGU-H, the turbo charger, and the fuel pump.” The MGU-H was an electrical machine connected to the exhaust turbine of the car’s pressure charging system.

“Good job,” Roderich said to Eduard. “Now that we know what the problem was, we can avoid it for the future.” He nudged Antonio in the side, attempting to raise his spirits. Eduard nodded, focusing on his work instead of on the compliment.

“Exchanging the pump won’t be a problem at all, but according to the regulations, we aren’t allowed to use more than five of the other two parts per season. That means we need to check those we have left in order to avoid anything like this from happening again in the remaining races.”

“Good luck! I’m sure you’re going to do a great job on this,” Roderich said.

Under ordinary circumstances, Antonio would have said the same, only more enthusiastically than Roderich. This time, however, he simply nodded with a smile that only seemed to be genuine. Roderich was worried.

“To reiterate my question,” he began as soon as Eduard had left. “What is it that you’re actually worried about?” Antonio took a deep breath, then exhaled.

“Us,” he said bluntly.

“Care to explain?” Roderich sat down on the only chair in the room. He had the impression he needed to sit for this kind of talk. If he was truthful, there had always been a sense of apprehension at the back of his mind; the feeling that this was too good to be true, that he did not deserve this man who was not only capable and passionate about car racing, but also gentle and beautiful and, last but not least, also rich and famous.

“Don’t give me this kind of look,” Antonio complained.

“I don’t even know what kind of look I give.” Roderich raised an eyebrow.

“That look as if you’re mentally preparing yourself for a breakup.” Antonio exhaled again, flopping to the ground next to Roderich’s chair. “I’d never want that to happen.” He leaned his head against Roderich’s thigh, avoiding looking at him while he talked.

“Then what is it that you’re so worried about?” Roderich barely resisted the temptation to act on his promise to pet Antonio’s hair then and there.

“I’m worried I might get kicked out of the team if I continue to underperform. I’m worried it won’t matter that none of my three outages were my own fault. And, most of all, I’m worried you will stay in this team while I leave, and … and …” Antonio breathed loudly, obviously trying to hold back tears. “We have so little spare time. How are we supposed to keep up our relationship if there’s no official reason for us to see each other anymore?”

“Oh Toni.” Roderich slid down from the chair and took Antonio in his arms. “My Toni. Listen. Will you listen to me?”

Antonio sniffled, nodding and clinging to Roderich for dear life.

“There has never been any talk of replacing either you or Jan. Both of you are wonderful drivers. If anything, you’ve become better over the years, and the nerves you show me now never got in the way when you needed to control your car.” He took Antonio’s head in both hands. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Antonio sniffled.

“To address your fear we might break up as soon as we’re not on the same team or the same car racing series anymore…” Roderich brushed a few stray locks behind Antonio’s ears, making sure Toni was looking at him. “Don’t worry. We wouldn’t be able to sleep in the same hotels anymore, yes, but we’d spend as much of our spare time with each other as we could. Everyone knows we’re friends by now anyway.”

“Friends.” Antonio spat the word out.

“I know, darling.” Roderich kissed him, just like that, in a room with an unlocked door. “I’m only doing this because I don’t want to be responsible for destroying your career. If I could singlehandedly make everyone interested in motorsports accepting of sportsmen who aren’t heterosexual, I would. I’d marry you in a heartbeat and wear our ring proudly on my finger.”

“You’d…” Antonio’s features softened. “Did you just … propose to me?”

“I guess so.” Roderich coughed nervously. “Though I suppose it would be better if we postponed … Whew!” Antonio hugged him firmly, knocking the wind out of him. “If we postponed this for as long as your career lasts. Uuh … That’s enough, I can’t breathe!”

“Until the end of my career?” Antonio loosened his grip on him instantly. “But … that might be a long time!”

“I sure hope it will be a long time,” Roderich said firmly. “And I hope you’ll be as eager to spend your life with me then as you are now. Because I will always love you.” He looked straight into Antonio’s eyes. “I will always, always love you. No matter what happens. Please remember this.”

“I will remember.” There it was at last, Antonio’s genuine smile. “And I will always love you, too.”

“Thank you.” Roderich returned his smile.

This time, Antonio didn’t need a helping hand to pull him off the ground. Instead, he helped Roderich back on his feet.

“Shall we?” Antonio placed his hand on the door handle, pushing it wide open. “I’m sure Eduard and the others are already waiting for us.”

Notes:

Yeah, I love SpAus and I enjoy watching F1. That’s how this fic came to be. Sorry it took so long, Rina!

Of course I did some research, but I’m not an expert on the technical side of F1 racing nonetheless. Please bear with me (and feel free to tell me) if you are and notice mistakes. In any case, Antonio’s outage is based on an actual outage of Lewis Hamilton’s Mercedes in 2016.

#spaus #spaaus #aph austria #aph spain #hetalia #aph fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction #my fanfiction #aph estonia #aph netherlands #aph #fanfiction

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toddbirchard-architect · 5 years ago

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Data Engineering, Big Data, and Other Vague Vocabulary https://ift.tt/2Kh85xj

I've spent the majority of my life dreading an eternal question that governs our lives. You know the one. It's the one that comes after our ritualistic handshakes and "nice to meet you"s. The one that summarizes our place in society, in 5 words or less: "what do you?"

Most managers never seem to have this problem. My previous peers in product or engineering management roles had little trouble letting others fill in the blanks for them, but I've never been one comfortable with accepting hyperbolic inferences. For non-producing members of skilled teams, I doubt the integrity of one who nods in response to "oh, so you're the boss?" I instead relived groundhog day eternally, watching the progression where an acquaintance's eagerness to care deteriorates into realizing they don't.

A lifetime later, I landed my first title as a data engineer, and boy did that feel great! After years of enduring the cocktail-party-existential-crises, I had a real title. Fine, "manager" is a title, but this title had tangible substance! The first chance I had to introduce myself as a Data Engineer happened to be in Ibiza, in all places. As it turns out, an American stranded in Spain making friends with somebody from Bosnia has its language barriers, so the phrase "data engineer" wasn't quite translating well. The best stand-in explanation I could find was "hacker."

Data Engineers Are Definitely Not Hackers

I had a lot of assumptions about what it meant to be a "data engineer" going into it, and none of them were particularly outrageous. I'd had my hand in software development for over ten years at the time. The boom of mainstream data science bit be like a bug, like the rest of us, and something about the problems we could solve seemed to make software fun again. We weren't building worthless landing pages, or tired login screens. Instead, we could write sports betting algorithms, or mine the world's unprotected data. I already loved engineering like I loved Oreos, and this particular flavor of engineering felt like taking two Oreos apart and stick them back together: less of the lame stuff, more of the awesome stuff.

Data Engineering isn't really Software Engineering

Obviously you need to be a software engineer to some capacity to be a data engineer. That said, the concerns of data engineers fall further away from the tree than I ever initially anticipated.

Most programming work I engaged in before data revolved heavily around algorithms, whether I realized it at the time or not. Building consumer and business-facing products entails more moving parts than any single human can account for. Software worth using is an effort between many people accountable for many services, which make up some abstract entity used by vast quantities of unreasonable people (I kid). The challenge of engineering something complex comes in the clever decisions we make to leverage simplicity. The first time I ever dissected a Walkman, or took the lid off a toilet, or taken apart a mechanical pen, the reaction is always the same: "that's it?" And yet, "that's quite genius."

A Day In The Life

The skills and duties of data engineering teams zero consistency between companies. Some shops integrate data engineers with data scientists and analysts to supplement those teams. Other companies have massively siloed "big data" teams, which are almost always made up of Java developers who have seemingly found a comfortable (and lucrative) niché, forever married to MapReduce without the burdens of cross-department communication. Unfortunately, this scenario is far more common.

Most of a data engineer’s responsibilities revolve around ETL: the art of moving data from over there to over here. Or, perhaps also there. And yet, likely here, there, and there (and oh yeah, it nothing is allowed to break, even though those things are different). The concept feels straightforward. It is. We're also dealing with incomprehensibly massive amounts of data, so it's also repetitively stressful. Straightforward and stressful aren't the sexiest adjectives to live by.

Tools Over Talent

Luckily for us, our company isn't the first company to work with data- that’s where our predetermined catalog of “big data” tools comes in. No matter how different data teams are between companies, the inescapable common ground is that data Engineering is largely about tools. We’re talking Apache Hadoop, Apache Spark, Apache Kafka, Apache Airflow, Apache 2: Electric Boogaloo, and so forth.

Working with each of these things is a proprietary skill of its own. PySpark is essentially its own language masquerading as Python. Hadoop's complexity serves little purpose other than to ensure old school data engineers have jobs. Each of these tools are behemoths, each of which was created to do a very specific thing in a very specific way. Becoming adept at Spark doesn’t make you a better engineer, or a problem solver: it just makes you good at using Spark. Airflow is a powerful tool for organizing and building data pipelines. With all it’s included bells and whistles, Airflow offers teams power and structure at no cost. It’s obvious that Airflow (and equivalent) are “the right tool” upon using it, but structure comes at a price to human beings. It’s only a matter of time before I’m aware I’m mindlessly executing things in the only possible fashion they might be executed. Unlike building complex systems, it feels like data engineering only has so much room for clever optimization.

This doesn’t seem so bad to a 9-5 worker looking to live their non-office lives: hoarding lucrative knowledge is an easy way to pay the bills. What bothers me is this mindset can only prevail if the person harnessing does not actually enjoy programming. In every software engineering interview I've ever had, there's inevitably been some sort of hour-long algorithm whiteboard session where you optimize your brute force O(n^2) algorithm to O(n). While those are stressful, people who enjoy programming usually walk out of those interviews feeling like they enjoyed it. I've never been asked an algorithm question in a data engineering interview. Those go more like this:

Have you ever had a situation where you had to configure a Kafkta instance using the 76C-X configuration variable on the 27 of May during a full moon?

I see you've worked with SQS, Kinesis, Kafka, Pub/Sub, and RabbitMQ, but have you ever worked with [obscure equivalent service this company uses, with the implication that it isn't exactly the same]

I know you're not too hot on Hadoop, but can you tell me about the inner workings of this specific feature before it was depreciated 3 years ago anyway?

I'm running a PC with 4 cores and 16 gigs of ram, looking to parse a 200,000-line JSON file while vacationing with my family in Aruba. Which Python library would you use to engage Python's secret Hyperthreaded Voltron I/O Super Saiyan skill, and what kind of load would my machine be under as a result?

I'm barely kidding about these... even the last one. If Silicon Valley's primary hiring philosophy prioritizes smart people who can learn, data engineering interviews measure whether your wealth of useless trivia is culturally acceptable by people who value that sort of thing.

We Need To Address "Big Data"

I've been making some vast generalizations so far. I don't truly believe all data engineers share the same personality traits. In fact, there are at least two kinds of data people in this world: people who say "big data" unironically, and those who don't. I'm the latter. The complaints I have about our profession are directed at the former.

There's a big difference between a startup looking to "revolutionize the world with AI," and startups looking to leverage machine learning to optimize a case where it makes sense. Given the cheapness and implied misunderstanding of the term, simply hearing the phrase "AI" in a conversation has me questioning credibility. Don't get me started on Blockchain.

Big data has no actual definition other than "a lot of data." Trying to track down the origins of the phrase results in endless pages of data companies spewing absurd jargon (and hilariously copy+pasted definitions from one another), proudly aligning themselves with the new world order of Big Data. One article titled "A Brief History of Big Data" starts at the year 18,000 BCE. Get over yourselves.

In reality, the phrase "Big Data" started to pick up pace around 2012:

trends.embed.renderExploreWidget("TIMESERIES", {"comparisonItem":[{"keyword":"big data","geo":"","time":"2004-01-01 2019-06-29"}],"category":0,"property":""}, {"exploreQuery":"date=all&q=big%20data","guestPath":"https://trends.google.com:443/trends/embed/"});

We have Doug Laney to blame for coining the phrase in 2001, but if I had to guess, the trend seems much more closely correlated with the rise of Hadoop.

Hadoop enabled companies to work with and process much larger data than before, thus "Big Data" was technically relatively accurate. Java was by far the most common programming language being learned by new developers, being the de facto choice for school curriculum and general programming. I imagine it was an easy choice for many to double down on the language they knew by leveraging their knowledge and being Hadoop subject-matter experts. That's twice the job security and twice the skills!

Most people I know who overly emphasize their "big data" expertise are in fact Java/Hadoop guys. They're quick to ask how many petabytes or exabytes of data your last pipeline ran, fiercely keeping the gate open for only the Biggest of Data. They don't want to learn new programming languages. They don't want to see which data warehouse best fits their needs by reading the whitepapers. They don't want to question if it's really necessary for a cluster of hundreds of nodes to run small nightly jobs. They want to cling to a time where they made two good consecutive life decisions and partied to the Big Data anthem.

Bigger Doesn't Mean Better

Some data engineers are exactly what their titles imply: engineers with a specialty in data. On the other side of this, there's a rampant culture of gatekeeping and self-preservation which is almost certainly destroying company budgets in ways which aren't visible.

Data engineering teams with headcounts in the double-digits clock 8 hours a day, over-implementing systems too obsolete to turn profits for Cloudera, Hortonworks, or MapR. If these teams had consisted of software engineers as opposed to big data engineers, we would have teams focused on creating the best solutions over the easiest ones.

July 31, 2019 at 12:24AM

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