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disappearingground · 7 months

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Jenny Lewis: soundtrack of my life

The Guardian September 14, 2014

The singer-songwriter on her mum’s amazing vinyl collection, her days as an LA raver, and why jazz helps clear her palate

By Laura Barnett

Born in Las Vegas in 1978 and raised in California’s San Fernando Valley, Lewis started out as a child actress. She sidestepped into music in the late 90s, co-founding the LA indie four-piece Rilo Kiley. She has gone on to perform with her boyfriend, fellow musician Johnathan Rice, as one half of the duo Jenny and Johnny, and released three solo albums. Her latest, The Voyager, is out now on Warner Music.

THE FIRST RECORD I EVER BOUGHT Pass the Dutchie by Musical Youth (1982)

I must have been seven or eight when I bought this novelty reggae song on seven-inch. I was a working actor at the time – I’d been in 100 commercials, and guested on various TV shows – so I had a few dollars in my pocket. As I recall, this cost me $3.50. I took it home and couldn’t stop playing it: I was just obsessed with the upbeat rhythm. I had no idea what reggae music was, but it spoke to me. The fact it was being performed by children – Musical Youth were all kids – made me start to think that music might be something I could do, too. Of course I didn’t know what a dutchie was back then, though. I do now.

THE RECORD THAT INTRODUCED ME TO FEMALE SINGER-SONGWRITERS Gonna Take a Miracle by Laura Nyro (1971)

My mother had a great vinyl collection, and she was constantly playing female singer-songwriters. I first learned about classic song structures by listening to them, and Laura Nyro particularly stood out. Her voice was outside what you’d usually hear on the radio; that really appealed to me. I grew up singing with my mom and sister, so I loved its strong gospel feeling, with Labelle [a vocal group of the 60s and 70s, with Patti LaBelle as lead vocalist] backing Nyro. It seemed to fit in with the way we all related to each other as a family: whenever things were weird around the house, we’d sing a song.

THE ALBUM THAT SUMS UP MY YEARS AS A TEENAGE RAVER 3 Feet High and Rising by De La Soul (1989)

My mother’s records were formative for me, but when I became a teenager, I wanted to find songs that she wasn’t hip to. She was so hip, though, that I had to go outside rock’n’roll – so for about 10 years, I only listened to hip-hop, house and techno. My friends and I were all ravers – we went to those first underground raves in LA in the 90s, which were really wild. We were kids – 15 and 16 years old – driving around with strangers; we’d go to a shop at midnight on Melrose, and they’d have a little print-out with directions to the club. It could be out in Palm Springs, or downtown LA, or Orange Country; we’d get there at 2am and rave until 10. I can’t believe our parents let us stay out that late – I did sneak out my window a few times. But my mom was still down with hip-hop. She’d answer the phone to me, like, “Yo yo yo, what’s up?”

THE RECORD THAT REMINDS ME OF TRAVELLING Exile in Guyville by Liz Phair (1993)

When I was 18, I took a trip to Thailand with a friend. We stayed for a month. Bangkok was very raw, for a teenager: there were no cellphones, no internet, and the only music I had with me was this cassette by Liz Phair. I was writing a lot of poetry, and she embodied a talky style of songwriting that I found very accessible. I listened to the album over and over again on my Walkman. I remember vividly taking a tiny ferryboat from Bangkok to a little island, listening to this and thinking, “Holy shit, I hope one day I can make music like this.”

THE ALBUM I WISH I’D MADE MYSELF Wit’s End by Cass McCombs (2011)

This is the perfect folk record. The songs are so classic, and I really love his direct way of songwriting. I’ve met Cass a couple of times out at this surf shop in Venice Beach called Mollusk. It’s a tiny little place where all these LA musicians get together; you can drink beer, sit on the floor, and watch these great improvisers riffing off one another. I saw Cass play there, and he was amazing. It all comes back to the songs: they are of such quality that I always want to hear what he has to say.

THE RECORD THAT MOST INSPIRES ME AS A SONGWRITER Dead Dog’s Eyeball by Kathy McCarty (2005)

McCarty is a former waitress from Austin, Texas. She befriended the great Daniel Johnston, and decided to make this record of his songs. It’s one of the best, most story-driven collection of songs I know. They’re both simple and profound; each line punches you in the gut. There’s a really beautiful song called Hey Joe; it’s about depression and mental illness, but you’d never know that unless you knew a little bit about Daniel Johnston’s backstory [Johnston has been diagnosed with an extreme form of bipolar disorder]. With a female vocalist interpreting these songs, they seem so much more polished.

THE ONE THAT CLEARS MY HEAD Reunion with Chet Baker by the Gerry Mulligan Quartet (1957)

When you’re talking about your own music every day, listening to bands, going to festivals, you can kind of lose sight of your initial connection with music. Instrumental music – especially jazz – helps me refocus. Jazz was, again, something my mum always played around the house – but this record is particularly special. There’s something about its west-coast sound – two horns, trumpet, baritone sax; it’s just beautiful, otherworldly. I have it on vinyl and on a CD I bought so long ago that it’s covered in scratches. The album acts like a reset button for me: whenever I put it on, it clears the decks.

THE RECORD THAT KEEPS ME IN TOUCH WITH HOME The Very Best of Ethiopiques (2007)

My boyfriend Johnathan and I listen to a lot of world music together, and we particularly love this beautiful compilation. When I’m not with him, out on the road, I put on this record, and it’s like I’m home again. Modern technology makes being apart much more manageable – I can just Skype him when I’m in hotel rooms doing my nails, or something – but this record makes me feel like he’s here with me. It’s so soothing; it’s like liquid morphine.

#publication: the guardian #album: the voyager #year: 2014 #mention: mother #mention: childhood #mention: sister #person: johnathan rice #mention: traveling #mention: music taste

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parkerbombshell · 2 years

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#rules

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asherlockstudy · 3 years

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How to do perfect staging: a lesson from Italy

I mentioned at some point I might actually make a post drooling over Italy's Måneskin performance and staging. I was kinda bored to be honest and decided against it but then all those trashy rumours that try to bring the winners down seemed so disgraceful and embarrassing to me that I decided again to do it. Now, the truth is that their performance was a little better in the semi-final introduction act. Perhaps this was due to the anxiety of the Grand Final. This is why I am going to use photos and gifs from that act and perhaps this will show to some that the perfect package might need a little bit of everything, and not just slap your language on the audience's ears with the expectation that this alone is always enough. *Did I make this too personal?*

Anyway, I digress. And I don’t mean that the Grand Final performance wasn’t still the best of the night, I just mean it wasn’t at the same God Tier level as the semifinal one.

Here's why the Italians took advantage of the Dutch stage until its very last millimeter and way more cleverly than any other country.

This is the only act that starts from the back of the stage, where the singer Damiano David waits for us alone.

Even with the rest of the 25 competing countries, this intro makes you forget that you are watching a contest with 26 countries as guests. Unlike anyone else, Italy looks like the host, like this place belongs to them and the frontman waits for you to show you around and possibly drag you to the world of Måneskin. In fact, you almost forget it’s Eurovision - this now looks like a Måneskin concert or, even better, a more private space of theirs with an ominous industrial feel. One of the most impactful things now is the lighting. Take a look at it. Almost all contestants throw all the lights on themselves or on some important prop they have prepared. The Italians are the only ones who chose to just light the stage itself. The simple white lights on the black stage give the impression of depth and it is the only act which shows emphatically the size of the stage. Why this? Well, we already established that in the first seconds the viewers feel they are in a new space belonging exclusively to Måneskin - the lights make us feel that their area is vast and dark and we are about to be drawn to its depths.

Damiano indeed guides us to the front as he sings, where the rest of the band are on the top of a platform. The other members won’t come down and join Damiano until he sings the appropriate verse “Buona sera, signore e signori” (=Good evening, ladies and gentlemen) and accompany it with a theatrical flamboyant bow (that feels very Italian). That’s when, technically introduced to the audience after the official greeting, bassist Victoria de Angelis and guitarist Thomas Raggi come off the platform and join Damiano.

There’s nothing excessive about the visual effects. Only the use of white lights that give the perception of depth and in the background the big shadows of the group’s silhouettes. They are in the front and they cast their shadows in the back; they create to you a feeling of being trapped by them but do you really want to escape?

When the second verse starts, Victoria and Thomas take the paths left and right of the stage and leave Damiano alone. They take even more advantage of the stage and in a typical classic rock band way. These two play with the side cameras but the focus is more on Damiano, whose verse sounds more like a tongue-twister. Since the cameras are rightfully on Damiano, I must now address the elephant in the room. Damiano is particularly attractive. In fact, the whole band is almost mind-bogglingly attractive and they clearly take a lot of care about how exactly they are going to look but Damiano, as the frontman, does especially so. So let’s talk about the outfit. They all have essentially the same outfit, however it is cut differently for each based on the person’s looks and personality. Isn’t it fantastic?

Damiano, who oozes confidence and sex appeal, has accordingly the most “provocative” outfit of the four. His chest and arms are bare so that his many tattoos can be seen. I’ll talk about the other outfits later as they all have their place in the... uh... white lights.

During the second chorus Victoria and Thomas return at the center and after the chorus it is time for the first solo; Victoria’s. The cameras are now on her but the lighting remains modest to accentuate the dark beat of her bass.

Victoria is the only girl of the group and the most dressed of them all - how refreshing! Her outfit is more similar to Thomas but she is buttoned up in the front. How does she wish to underscore her uniqueness as the woman of the band? But of course, with long flamboyant girly sleeves that come to delicious contrast with her aggressive stomping and her wide strides. Both her hairstyle and her outfit is inspired or basically just outright 70′s classic rock look.

It’s time for the bridge of the song right after her solo and Damiano has his attention on her and also draws the viewer’s attention to her some more. This part of the song is lower and softer - in relative terms - that’s why Damiano “chooses” her to sing it to. The lights now turn red, the intensity rises but there’s light flirtatiousness between them, with many smiles to each other and the camera that turns around them as they launch at each other playfully.

Then the song gets darker, more intense, the guitar stronger than the bass and Damiano’s voice turns to a scream. For this part, he turns to his bro, guitarist Thomas and he now draws the attention to him.

He grabs Thomas by the neck in an intense, intimate way (that doesn’t mean sexual, just intimate. His interaction with Victoria wasn’t sexual either). It is clear that through different ways Måneskin want to stress how good and close their relations are and that their singer, who is apparently a show stealer by birth, wants to ensure that they all get equal amount of attention from their audience. I love this.

True enough, nobody is left behind! The last chorus starts with a drums solo and Damiano goes up to the platform to now meet and introduce to us Ethan Torchio. Ethan stands up and his giant shadow is on the now blue background: this is the moment for the - so I hear - somewhat shy drummer to shine in his own aesthetic. The Italians leave none of their assets to fall down and Ethan’s impressive hair rightfully steals the show.

Just like Victoria and Thomas look alike, so do Ethan and Damiano, that’s why their costumes are the most similar. Ethan has a vest that covers him more than Damiano but leaves his arms bare. Because whose else the arms do you need to see if not the drummer’s?

This song has something peculiar because it was not a song originally written for Eurovision; it slows down in the end and does not end on some impressive note from the singer as usual but with the last solo we expect, that of the guitarist, because everything is fair in Måneskin! The focus has to leave Damiano, so now it’s the time for the visual effects to finally catch fire, literally, because nobody is allowed to take their eyes off them! Måneskin use a huge amount of pyro that however feels appropriate for the intense chorus and the ending guitar solo.

Thomas steps up for his solo and I forget we are in 2021. This is the most 70s thing I would ever hope to see.

In a hell of pyro, Thomas looks like he was tranferred right from a 70s rock ‘n roll concert. His outfit would be gladly taken by Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones. The unbuttoned jacket with this boho tie, such a classic 70s fashion touch. His haircut and even his FACE are the epitome of the 70s - what an ending sequence!

But hey we reached the end and this is Eurovision, the song slows down dangerously. Like I said, the Italians forbid us to get distracted. The attention must return to Damiano ASAP. Damiano says one last line and takes the audience with him to the very end with a death drop.

There you have it. Måneskin had me holding my breath for the full three minutes and I did not want to take my eyes off my TV. There are countless shows that are awesome - in this very Eurovision as well - but I was impressed by how they seemed to have found the perfect balance for everything in every single moment. They found the perfect stage concept for the song, they relied on visual effects only when they needed them and they stressed every twist and turn of their sound with a perfectly fitting move or interaction. They also all effortlessly could hold your attention and they made sure that they all would, with members often helping bring out other members. This performance was beautiful and, above all, clever which is why it was undoubtedly the worthiest of the win.

#eurovision #eurovision 2021 #esc 2021 #eurovision song contest #italy #italy 2021 #maneskin #damiano david #victoria de angelis #ethan torchio #thomas raggi #music #songs #zitti e buoni #flashing tw #more

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wh0re-4-techno · 3 years

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6. PARTY ((PROFESSOR TECHNO))

Description: Going to a party that Tommy told you about. Hopefully this will distract you from that kiss.

Warning(s): Drinking, that's about it. (Remember this is an AU where everyone is aged up so they're legally allowed to drink, don't be underage and drink!)

Words: 4396

Last part :: Next part

It's been a day, a single damn day since you've seen your Professor. A day since you've kissed him. How could you just walk into class on Thursday and act like nothing happened on between both of you.

But to no avail, there was no time to think about him, scrolling through your closet you couldn't find an outfit to wear.

"Hey, do you have anything I can wear?" You shout to Minx, still looking through your closet. It was becoming more frustrating to try to find something. "Maybe, just look through my closet." She tells you while putting on her eyeliner. "You should hurry up, I don't wanna be late for this party." You scroff at her while going to her closet.

Minx wore a black slip dress that flattered her body perfectly, you where slightly jealous of her and her looks. Wishing you could pull that dress off like she could.

Opening her closet doors, as soon as you rack through her clothes your eyes get fixated on a certain dress she had in the back, it was quite lovie.

As you pull it out, it was short. It had a 70's floral design, the sleeve flare out, and it was a low cut. This dress and some white heels would be gorgeous. But knowing this was a collage party, you shouldn't wear hears or white.

Minx looks over at you as she puts her mascara on, seeing as you picked that dress. "Oh that would look so cute on you, wear that." She throws her hands, basically tell you to put it on. You turn towards your side on the room and change into it. It fit like a damn glove. It was smooth and airy. And wasn't short enough that your ass was hanging out, it was perfect.

You quickly pull out your makeup and swiftly take your eyeliner out. Doing a rushed long wing look with red lipstick that matched the flowers on your dress. "Who was it that told you about this party?" Minx is putting on her shoes while asking you. "Um Tommy." You can't really focus on what she was asking as you're putting on false lashes. "Is that the brown haired one?" She questions while standing up.

Shoving back your makeup in it's container you tell her, "No its the blonde one." You go to your closet to get your party shoes, they were basically shoes that where messy with drink stains and you didn't mind to get them dirty.

Taking them out with a pair of socks, you put them on. Minx is already grabbing the keys and her phone. Ready to go.

You rush yourself up with your keys and phone. Both of you out of the door and running down the stairs. "Tommy texted me the address, so I'll drive." You tell Minx while opening the main doors to your dorm. "Then just tell me the directions to the house." She walks beside you, "No it's my car we're talkin. I'm fucken driving." You bite down on your teeth, giving Minx a glare. She knew how protective you were over your car. She didn't exactly know why, but she didn't want to continue the small argument. "Fine." Heading to the parking lot to your car.

The both of you hustle in your car, she goes to the passenger seat while you turn on the car.

"Okay tell me where to go." You hand her your phone, the address was on google maps. "What time is it?" You ask while pulling out of the school lot and making it on the main road. "It's already past 10." She says while looking down at the directions. "Fuck were already late." She tells you to take a left. "Everyone shows up late and think it's going to be fun."

-----

You slowly pull up to a frat house that was 7 block away from the campus. You could've walked if you wanted, but it already being dark it wasn't safe for you and Minx to be stumbling in the streets.

Looking for somewhere to park your car, you search and see that a house down you could park.

Both of you step out of the car, you turn it off with a beep. You pull out your phone as you meet Minx on the side walk, the two of you walk towards the frat house. Music blasting, even from outside you could hear them.

Y/n to Tommy:

Hey I just got here. Where u at?

Stepping through the lawn you already see a bunch of people hang outside with the classic red solo cups as they wandered around. Looking back down at your phone as Tommy messaged you back,

Tommy to Y/n:

I'm inside the kitchen with Toby

You turn off your phone as you make it to the door, Minx opens it for you.

As soon as the door opens you could smell the alcohol, almost taste. You hold onto Minx's arm as you two navigate through the party. "Tommy's in the kitchen." You have to speak loudly to Minx so she could hear you over the music and the other people taking. The house was packed to the brim.

Walking through, the floor was sticky from the drinks that spilled before hand. Passing through you watch as multiple people making out. Seeing that just made you think of Techno, you shouldn't be thinking of your teacher at a damn house party. You should be getting drunk and make out with a random person.

Making your way into the kitchen you see Tommy and Toby. Toby cheering on Tommy as he has a beer, presuming that he and this other fellow are shot gunning beers.

Tommy slams down the beer can, while yelling out victoriously. Toby pats Tommy on the back as he jumps up and down with excitement and probably being tipsy. But once he spots you he shouts, "Y/n com' here! Did you see that!" He yells in your face, which you have to cringe at how loud he was. He reaches out his arms for a hug which you happily took and hugged him back. You do the same with Toby. "So, how's the party going?" You ask Toby, who seems more sober then Tommy at the moment. "Really good! More people showed up the expected!" He smiles at you, "Do you want a drink?" He offers you, seeing as you didn't have a cup in your or Minx's hand.

Minx in the meantime is saying greetings Tommy, she laughs at what he's saying. Which is probably drunken rambling.

"Yeah. Whatcha got?" You look around the kitchen countertops. Seeing vodka to hard lemonade. Toby waves his arm across the countertop, "Literally anything you want we have." You think for a bit as you scan through the vast majority of drinks. "You know, I'll start off with a shot." You lean into Toby as it was becoming harder to hear as Tommy is shouting again about something, you weren't paying to much attention on him.

You feel someone slam the back of your back, not hard but it made you turn towards who was doing it. "That's what I'm talking about!" It was Wilbur, arm flung over your shoulder and in his other hand was a beer. "How long you've been here?" He asks, Toby is pouring multiple shots in colorful plastic. "Just arrived!" Minx answers for the both of you, she is now besides you, seeing that shots were being pour she asks if she could have one. Which Toby happily agrees with.

"You want one Wilbur?" Toby asks, handing out the shots to you and Minx. Wilbur shakes his head, saying no to them. Toby shrugs while taking one for himself. Wilbur removes his arm from your shoulder. "Ready! One, two, three-" Wilbur counts down for us.

Once he reaches three you put the plastic shot glass to your lips and swallowing the liquor. It burned down your throat, letting out a curse.

Minx shoots her eyes open, "Another?" She asks you and Toby. Toby seems on board, but you decline. You wanted to experience this party before becoming shit faced. "I'll grab a beer." You reach for a Bud Light. "Weak." Tommy snaps, he's behind you and throws his arm over to you.

Turning towards the tall drunken blonde. He rests his arm on your shoulder, just like Wilbur was doing moments ago. "I have some friends you should meet!" He yells while laughing, "Yeah?" He drinks from another beer can, of this poor boy going to have a terrible headache tomorrow morning.

"Totally!" His hand drops goes down your arm and takes a hold of your hand. He walks to you thorough the crowd of people whom all had a drink and dancing. You weren't quite sure if he was taking you out to dance or bring you to someone. Or if he even knew where to take you in the first place.

The music that was playing was some Michael Jackson you could get your groove on, you just wanted to dance with the crowed. But Tommy kept pulling you through the dance floor, so you where sure he was going to bring you to someone to meet.

You reach the stairs that lead up the the second story, and that was by tht front door. But seeing as there was a group of people blocking it, believing that the person he was bringing you too was upstairs, but Tommy stops. "This is my friend Alex!" He sloppily says while getting a man's attention, who must be Alex. He has black hair that was tucked into a beanie, strange to have a beanie inside but you didn't question him upon it. "Alex this is Y/n!" Alex sticks his free hand for you the shake, which you do as Tommy takes a sip of his drink.

"I should bring Minx to meet you! She's gorgeous!" He tells Alex who nods his head to Tommy. Which he lets go of your hand and is running back to the kitchen to grab Minx.

"Sorry for my him. He gets really fucked at party's." Alex apologizes for Tommy's sake. "No it's fine, he's like this in class too." You chuckle at your own comment. "That's true. What class do you have together?" He asks while drinking from his drink, which was also a Bud Light. "History class. That boy can not shut up!" Both of you laugh.

He leans back to someone, "This is my friend Floris." He leans back to you, introducing you to another guy. He was tall with light brown hair, he also sticked out his arm to shake a welcome. You step up the stairs. "You can call me Fundy, everyone does." You mentally make a note of what he said.

You look up to see someone come down the stairs, his hair was a brown and he wore a multicolored sweater. He also had a goofy smile with his cheeks flushed with pink. Damn was he cute.

Alex taked notice that you were staring at something or even someone so he glances back. And beholds that it was one of his closest friends. "Y/n this is Karl!" He says with excitement, as Karl makes his way down Alex throws his arm around his shoulder. "Hi, my name is Karl- but he just told you that! Its nice to meet you Y/n." He chuckles at his little mix up, which you giggle at as well. You hold out your hand to shake his, he slight squeezed your hand once meeting.

"So, how long have you guys known Tommy?" You ask them while retracting you hand. Taking you swing of your beer. The music starts to muffle as it changes to the next song, which was softer. "I meet him through Wilbur." Fundy says, "He's in one of my classes too, English." Alex adds, the four of you turn back of the sound of Tommy's laugh, and before Karl could tell you how he knew the blonde boy.

Watching as he stumbles up at you with Minx in his hand, she gives you a small wave with her solo cup hand. The other still connected with Tommy's hand. "This is Minx everyone!" He shouts at us. "Hi I'm Alex." Alex greets her and so does Fundy, telling her the same thing he told you. Karl does a wave to greet her, as he was to up on the stair to shake her hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all." She flashes a smile to the three guys. "Y/n wanna dance?" She asks after smiling to the boys, but before you could answer Alex takes this opportunity into his own hands. "I would love to dance with you!" He makes his move, rushes past you. Minx just looks over Alex, conflicted as she asked you to dance but not some boy she didn't even know. But thinks for a few seconds as he quietly stands there waiting for her response. Praying that she would say yes. "Okay." He makes a fist, quietly say "Yes!" As he was proud of himself.

Before they head to the dance floor she turns to you, "I told you this was going to be fun!" You nod her off as she starts dancing to the music with Alex.

Going back to Tommy, Fundy, and Karl as they talk, Tommy is rather talking really loud as he couldn't hear himself. Fundy seems fine with him, patiently waiting for Tommy to complete his sentence. Karl has a questionable face as he's trying to figure out what he saying. "Y/n I have more people for you to meet!" Tommy looks over to you. You look at Fundy and Karl who gives off a sympathetic smile to you. Knowing that Tommy would be dragging you around this whole house. Surprisingly he knew a lot of people here. "See you later Fundy and Karl!" You say your good byes rather quickly.

He takes your hand again, you take another sip of your beer. This was going to be a long night if you don't get drunk quickly.

He's walking through the place, randomly pointing to people and telling you their name. Most of them you wouldn't remember tomorrow. But he spots someone important, "Meet my other friends, that's Clay!" He points to the guy who on the couch who wore a green hoodie, "And that's George." He slowly says, the other guy who was wearing a blue Tee-shirt whom started kissing Clay. "They seem nice." You simply say, turn back to Tommy who is giggling. "They are, you should talk to them after their lil situation" You nod to him. "Anyone else you want me to meet while where at it?" You ask him, he thinks for a moment.

"Yes! I have a friend named Nick. He's kind of mean, but very nice. Well next to you.." He loosely hangs onto you, his complement made him serious. It was really fun to see him like this. "Um- Let's find him!" He pulls you back.

Both of you walking for what seems like ages, you beer was coming to a close end. Tommy leads you to the kitchen once again, where he shouts out, "NICK!" He throws his hands up. The guy turned towards who said his name. Nick wore a grey sweatshirt. He was also next to Wilbur, they seemed to be having a conversation before Tommy abruptly ended it. "You HAVE to meet my good friend Y/n!" He emphasizes "have" which makes you giggle.

You walk towards Nick and greet him. His hands where in his pocket, he seemed a little shy. But Wilbur was there to refer to you, "She's cool." He says confidently, it does help Nick. "It's nice to meet you." You lean back into the kitchen island.

Tommy's cheeks were becoming pinker by the minute, the alcohol really getting to him.

"Did you meet Alex yet? Because he's dancing with Minx." Wilbur asks, pointing to them with his drink in hand. It was sweet that he was slightly concerned if you knew him yet, but as you look to the dance floor, aka the living room. Minx and Alex where jamming out together. "Yeah I just met him, he seem cool." You shrug off, "What're drinking?" You ask him. He gestures with his cup, "Oh some vodka with cranberry juice!"

You stare up at him, "Where the hell did you get cranberry juice?" You chuckle at him, which he joins in. "In the fridge of course. Do you want some?" You shake your head as a yes.

Looking back to Nick as Wilbur goes off to make you your drink. "How do you know Wilbur and Tommy?" He takes a sip of the beer he had in his hand. "In class. Tommy's in my English and Wilbur's in my technology class." He explains to you. His voice was very calm compared to the loudness of the party. "How do you know them?" He asks drinking out of his cup, Wilbur hands you your drink. He made that rather quickly. "Well Tommy, Wilbur, and Toby are in my History class. You know Toby right?" You have to tell to Nick as the music starts to get louder. But he nods a he's to your question.

The iconic song "September" by Earth, Wind & Fire starts play and the crowds starts going wild, singing the lyrics to the song.

Seeing as everyone was headed to the dance floor you ask, "Wanna go dancing?" The two men, who look at each other, then back at you with a smiles. Wilbur starts dancing his way to the living room and Nick soon follows you.

While in the living room you start mumbling out the lyrics as everyone one else does the same. Making your way to Minx who's more of the center of it all. She seems to be having a great time with Alex as they dance together and laughing as Alex holds his beer bottle as a microphone. Singing from his heart. But as she sees you she lets out a little yelp of excitement.

Soon all of you are singing to the song and having a blast. Normally you wouldn't have the energy to go out there dance, but as the alcohol takes over your nerves and that there were a lot of people there. It didn't seem to bother you. No one was watching you dance.

Looking out you see Tommy and Toby dancing together and singing their hearts out. It was a sight to be seen. Then watching Wilbur with a girl, who must of been his girlfriend he showed you last week. Karl and Alex are jamming out together as well.

They all had huge grin on their face, "DANCING IN SEPTEMBER!" The sea of drunken college students shout out into the crowd with little to no care, minx and you start jumping to the beat. Singing to each other. Our singing, along with everyone's is poor, but that didn't matter at the moment or to anyone.

But as the song comes to an end less people are singing it and starts to die down. The new song playing had a quick beat. Making people move their feet with the same fastness. You mouth out the words as you get closer with Minx, who is doing the same towards you.

Both of you bob your head to the music that was playing right in your ears.

As you dance your eyes keep looking over to Karl, who was dancing with Alex. They did seem like really good friends. But as you stare at them, Alex, of course looks over for second and seeing that you couldn't look away from Karl he made a plan. Getting closer to Karl to whisper something, you turn away quickly.

"I think Alex and Karl are coming over here!" You whispered yell at Minx, she turns to where the two guy used to be, but seeing them dance their way over to you.

"Evening ladies." Alex trys his hardest to say smoothly, which didn't really work for you, but Minx seems entertained. It might been the liquor, but she was digging this Alex dude.

For you Karl gestures for you to follow him, you walk with his hesitant at first but you two head to the couches.

You actually needed some time to relax after Tommy made to go through the whole damn frat house. "I know Tommy through Alex." Slightly confused at first, but realizing he was picking up the conversation you had at the stairs. "You and Alex are close?" It was a dumb question to ask, but seeing as his face light up was really cute. Definitely the alcohol speaking now, it was getting harder to focus too. "Yes! We've know eachother for years, he's like my best friend." Both of you watch as Alex and Minx dance together, it was a little funny watching them, they were probably hitting close to being drunken at that point.

"You're a good dance by the way!" He adds leaning back into the couch. You thank him for his complement. Both of you sit in silence, just staring off that the crowd.

He suddenly stands from the couch, "I'm getting a new drink. Anything I could get you?" He ask, slowly taking steps to the kitchen. "Another vodka cranberry please!" You shout to him.

While waiting for Karl to come back another man sits down next to you, he seems out of it. But as you look over to him you ask, "You're Clay right?" The man in the green sweatshirt looks at you confused for a couple of seconds before you clarify. "Tommy pointed you out." He has an 'oh' realization. "We didn't want to interrupt you and your boyfriend." Your drunken mind speaks before thinking. He has a second 'oh' reaction.

He runs his hand over hIs face sloppily, "Wait how do you know Tommy?" He lazily throws his head back. "He's in a class with me." It was becoming more annoying to tell everyone the same thing over and over again. And it was werid that they all knew who Tommy was.

More time passed as another song played, still waiting on Karl to get back - and speaking of the devil he appears from the crowd with two drinks in hand. But spotting Clay half passes out where he sat before him, it wasn't the best situation. He hand you your drink before saying, "Clay's already out? Fundy owes me 20 buck." He chuckles while whipping out his phone from his back pocket. "How the hell does everyone know each other?" You take a large gulp of your drink. The vodka going right through you body, making you relax.

"I don't really know?" He shrugs off with a giggle.

This couch becoming incredibly more comfortable. Starting to close your eyes as the music roared over.

-----

You abruptly wake up, quickly looking around to see where you were. This wasn't your bed, but this wasn't even a bedroom.

This was your car.

"Holy fuck..." You breath out, glad you woke up in your car and not some random persons bed. And lucky as you look back to see if anyone else was in your card you see Minx. She had a coat over her that she wasn't wearing before walking in the party.

Turning back to the front, your eyes landing on what time it was. "11:26 a.m." Good that it wasn't past noon, but still surprised that no one ever tried to wake you up.

You look for you keys, which sat on your glove box. You turn in your car.

It was time to get back to the dorms and sleep this hangover in a comfortable bed, well how comfortable a dorm bed could be.

Your mind was foggy when I came to remembering what the hell happened last night, all you remember was talking to Karl before passing out on the couch. He must of moved you to the car at some point. Then you hear your phone ringing, why was it so damn loud? Squeezing your temple with your index and middle finger as your head rang from your phone.

Your hands search for the phone and grab it. It read out "Karl". You got his number last night? When?

You pick it up, "Good morning, did you wake up in your car?" He ask, well that kinda explains your situation. "Yeah, why?" You still ask to confirm your suspicions that he put you in your car. "Well last night you couldn't even walk straight and you never told me what dorm you lived in so that was my next best option. And I didn't want you to wake up in my bed and think that we did anything-" He rambles on, "Thank you." You stop him. "That was really kind of you." Driving out on the road, waking up Minx. Hearing her groan in confusion as to where she was. But as soon as she sees you she leans back down. "Why are we in your car?" She ask in a low tone, clearly still tired. You pull away from your phone. "I don't remember, but I'm glad none of us went drunk driving." She nods back as you continue to drive back to campus.

Putting your phone back to your ear, "Sorry Minx just woke up." You could hear him "oh" in the background. "Um who's coat is with her? Because she didn't have one when we came to the party." You turn in your parking lot. Your head pounding. "That's Alex's. I'll send you his number for her to return it." He quickly says. "Thanks again Karl. But I just got to my dorm so I'm going to pass out for the next few hours." You simple say while turning off your car.

"Good night Y/n." He says with a chuckle, which made you giggle a little. "Night." Ending the call you look back at Minx, who had a stupid grin plastered on her face. You question her on why, "Oh nothing..." She opens the door to get out. That cheek son of a bitch.

"And who was that?" You step out of your car. "No one." You could deal with Minx's little teasing about you and this guy. "Sure." She emphasizes the word.

Tag List:

@alexandrium @aplaintart @sadassflatass

#mcyt #mcyt fic #myct fanfiction #technoblade #technoblade x reader #professor technoblade x reader #techno #techno x reader #professor #x reader

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kingstylesdaily · 3 years

Text

Playtime With Harry Styles

via vogue.com

THE MEN’S BATHING POND in London’s Hampstead Heath at daybreak on a gloomy September morning seemed such an unlikely locale for my first meeting with Harry Styles, music’s legendarily charm-heavy style czar, that I wondered perhaps if something had been lost in translation.

But then there is Styles, cheerily gung ho, hidden behind a festive yellow bandana mask and a sweatshirt of his own design, surprisingly printed with three portraits of his intellectual pinup, the author Alain de Botton. “I love his writing,” says Styles. “I just think he’s brilliant. I saw him give a talk about the keys to happiness, and how one of the keys is living among friends, and how real friendship stems from being vulnerable with someone.”

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and��well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

That sweatshirt and the Columbia Records tracksuit bottoms are removed in the quaint wooden open-air changing room, with its Swallows and Amazons vibe. A handful of intrepid fellow patrons in various states of undress are blissfully unaware of the 26-year-old supernova in their midst, although I must admit I’m finding it rather difficult to take my eyes off him, try as I might. Styles has been on a six-day juice cleanse in readiness for Vogue’s photographer Tyler Mitchell. He practices Pilates (“I’ve got very tight hamstrings—trying to get those open”) and meditates twice a day. “It has changed my life,” he avers, “but it’s so subtle. It’s helped me just be more present. I feel like I’m able to enjoy the things that are happening right in front of me, even if it’s food or it’s coffee or it’s being with a friend—or a swim in a really cold pond!” Styles also feels that his meditation practices have helped him through the tumult of 2020: “Meditation just brings a stillness that has been really beneficial, I think, for my mental health.”

Styles has been a pescatarian for three years, inspired by the vegan food that several members of his current band prepared on tour. “My body definitely feels better for it,” he says. His shapely torso is prettily inscribed with the tattoos of a Victorian sailor—a rose, a galleon, a mermaid, an anchor, and a palm tree among them, and, straddling his clavicle, the dates 1967 and 1957 (the respective birth years of his mother and father). Frankly, I rather wish I’d packed a beach muumuu.

We take the piratical gangplank that juts into the water and dive in. Let me tell you, this is not the Aegean. The glacial water is a cloudy phlegm green beneath the surface, and clammy reeds slap one’s ankles. Styles, who admits he will try any fad, has recently had a couple of cryotherapy sessions and is evidently less susceptible to the cold. By the time we have swum a full circuit, however, body temperatures have adjusted, and the ice, you might say, has been broken. Duly invigorated, we are ready to face the day. Styles has thoughtfully brought a canister of coffee and some bottles of water in his backpack, and we sit at either end of a park bench for a socially distanced chat.

It seems that he has had a productive year. At the onset of lockdown, Styles found himself in his second home, in the canyons of Los Angeles. After a few days on his own, however, he moved in with a pod of three friends (and subsequently with two band members, Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones). They “would put names in a hat and plan the week out,” Styles explains. “If you were Monday, you would choose the movie, dinner, and the activity for that day. I like to make soups, and there was a big array of movies; we went all over the board,” from Goodfellas to Clueless. The experience, says Styles, “has been a really good lesson in what makes me happy now. It’s such a good example of living in the moment. I honestly just like being around my friends,” he adds. “That’s been my biggest takeaway. Just being on my own the whole time, I would have been miserable.”

Styles is big on friendship groups and considers his former and legendarily hysteria-inducing boy band, One Direction, to have been one of them. “I think the typical thing is to come out of a band like that and almost feel like you have to apologize for being in it,” says Styles. “But I loved my time in it. It was all new to me, and I was trying to learn as much as I could. I wanted to soak it in…. I think that’s probably why I like traveling now—soaking stuff up.” In a post-COVID future, he is contemplating a temporary move to Tokyo, explaining that “there’s a respect and a stillness, a quietness that I really loved every time I’ve been there.”

In 1D, Styles was making music whenever he could. “After a show you’d go in a hotel room and put down some vocals,” he recalls. As a result, his first solo album, 2017’s Harry Styles, “was when I really fell in love with being in the studio,” he says. “I loved it as much as touring.” Today he favors isolating with his core group of collaborators, “our little bubble”—Rowland, Kid Harpoon (né Tom Hull), and Tyler Johnson. “A safe space,” as he describes it.

In the music he has been working on in 2020, Styles wants to capture the experimental spirit that informed his second album, last year’s Fine Line. With his debut album, “I was very much finding out what my sound was as a solo artist,” he says. “I can see all the places where it almost felt like I was bowling with the bumpers up. I think with the second album I let go of the fear of getting it wrong and…it was really joyous and really free. I think with music it’s so important to evolve—and that extends to clothes and videos and all that stuff. That’s why you look back at David Bowie with Ziggy Stardust or the Beatles and their different eras—that fearlessness is super inspiring.”

The seismic changes of 2020—including the Black Lives Matter uprising around racial justice—has also provided Styles with an opportunity for personal growth. “I think it’s a time for opening up and learning and listening,” he says. “I’ve been trying to read and educate myself so that in 20 years I’m still doing the right things and taking the right steps. I believe in karma, and I think it’s just a time right now where we could use a little more kindness and empathy and patience with people, be a little more prepared to listen and grow.”

Meanwhile, Styles’s euphoric single “Watermelon Sugar” became something of an escapist anthem for this dystopian summer of 2020. The video, featuring Styles (dressed in ’70s-flavored Gucci and Bode) cavorting with a pack of beach-babe girls and boys, was shot in January, before lockdown rules came into play. By the time it was ready to be released in May, a poignant epigraph had been added: “This video is dedicated to touching.”

Styles is looking forward to touring again, when “it’s safe for everyone,” because, as he notes, “being up against people is part of the whole thing. You can’t really re-create it in any way.” But it hasn’t always been so. Early in his career, Styles was so stricken with stage fright that he regularly threw up preperformance. “I just always thought I was going to mess up or something,” he remembers. “But I’ve felt really lucky to have a group of incredibly generous fans. They’re generous emotionally—and when they come to the show, they give so much that it creates this atmosphere that I’ve always found so loving and accepting.”

THIS SUMMER, when it was safe enough to travel, Styles returned to his London home, which is where he suggests we head now, setting off in his modish Primrose Yellow ’73 Jaguar that smells of gasoline and leatherette. “Me and my dad have always bonded over cars,” Styles explains. “I never thought I’d be someone who just went out for a leisurely drive, purely for enjoyment.” On sleepless jet-lagged nights he’ll drive through London’s quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way. “I find it quite relaxing,” he says.

Over the summer Styles took a road trip with his artist friend Tomo Campbell through France and Italy, setting off at four in the morning and spending the night in Geneva, where they jumped in the lake “to wake ourselves up.” (I see a pattern emerging.) At the end of the trip Styles drove home alone, accompanied by an upbeat playlist that included “Aretha Franklin, Parliament, and a lot of Stevie Wonder. It was really fun for me,” he says. “I don’t travel like that a lot. I’m usually in such a rush, but there was a stillness to it. I love the feeling of nobody knowing where I am, that kind of escape...and freedom.”

GROWING UP in a village in the North of England, Styles thought of London as a world apart: “It truly felt like a different country.” At a wide-eyed 16, he came down to the teeming metropolis after his mother entered him on the U.K. talent-search show The X Factor. “I went to the audition to find out if I could sing,” Styles recalls, “or if my mum was just being nice to me.” Styles was eliminated but subsequently brought back with other contestants—Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik—to form a boy band that was named (on Styles’s suggestion) One Direction. The wily X Factor creator and judge, Simon Cowell, soon signed them to his label Syco Records, and the rest is history: 1D’s first four albums, supported by four world tours from 2011 to 2015, debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboard charts, and the band has sold 70 million records to date. At 18, Styles bought the London house he now calls home. “I was going to do two weeks’ work to it,” he remembers, “but when I came back there was no second floor,” so he moved in with adult friends who lived nearby till the renovation was complete. “Eighteen months,” he deadpans. “I’ve always seen that period as pretty pivotal for me, as there’s that moment at the party where it’s getting late, and half of the people would go upstairs to do drugs, and the other people go home. I was like, ‘I don’t really know this friend’s wife, so I’m not going to get all messy and then go home.’ I had to behave a bit, at a time where everything else about my life felt I didn’t have to behave really. I’ve been lucky to always feel I have this family unit somewhere.”

When Styles’s London renovation was finally done, “I went in for the first time and I cried,” he recalls. “Because I just felt like I had somewhere. L.A. feels like holiday, but this feels like home.”

Behind its pink door, Styles’s house has all the trappings of rock stardom—there’s a man cave filled with guitars, a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster (a moving-in gift from his decorator), a Stevie Nicks album cover. Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was one of the first songs he knew the words to—“My parents were big fans”—and he and Nicks have formed something of a mutual-admiration society. At the beginning of lockdown, Nicks tweeted to her fans that she was taking inspiration from Fine Line: “Way to go, H,” she wrote. “It is your Rumours.” “She’s always there for you,” said Styles when he inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2019. “She knows what you need—advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl; she’s got you covered.”

Styles makes us some tea in the light-filled kitchen and then wanders into the convivial living room, where he strikes an insouciant pose on the chesterfield sofa, upholstered in a turquoise velvet that perhaps not entirely coincidentally sets off his eyes. Styles admits that his lockdown lewk was “sweatpants, constantly,” and he is relishing the opportunity to dress up again. He doesn’t have to wait long: The following day, under the eaves of a Victorian mansion in Notting Hill, I arrive in the middle of fittings for Vogue’s shoot and discover Styles in his Y-fronts, patiently waiting to try on looks for fashion editor Camilla Nickerson and photographer Tyler Mitchell. Styles’s personal stylist, Harry Lambert, wearing a pearl necklace and his nails colored in various shades of green varnish, à la Sally Bowles, is providing helpful backup (Britain’s Rule of Six hasn’t yet been imposed).

Styles, who has thoughtfully brought me a copy of de Botton’s 2006 book The Architecture of Happiness, is instinctively and almost quaintly polite, in an old-fashioned, holding-open-doors and not-mentioning-lovers-by-name sort of way. He is astounded to discover that the Atlanta-born Mitchell has yet to experience a traditional British Sunday roast dinner. Assuring him that “it’s basically like Thanksgiving every Sunday,” Styles gives Mitchell the details of his favorite London restaurants in which to enjoy one. “It’s a good thing to be nice,” Mitchell tells me after a morning in Styles’s company.

MITCHELL has Lionel Wendt’s languorously homoerotic 1930s portraits of young Sri Lankan men on his mood board. Nickerson is thinking of Irving Penn’s legendary fall 1950 Paris haute couture collections sitting, where he photographed midcentury supermodels, including his wife, Lisa Fonssagrives, in high-style Dior and Balenciaga creations. Styles is up for all of it, and so, it would seem, is the menswear landscape of 2020: Jonathan Anderson has produced a trapeze coat anchored with a chunky gold martingale; John Galliano at Maison Margiela has fashioned a khaki trench with a portrait neckline in layers of colored tulle; and Harris Reed—a Saint Martins fashion student sleuthed by Lambert who ended up making some looks for Styles’s last tour—has spent a week making a broad-shouldered Smoking jacket with high-waisted, wide-leg pants that have become a Styles signature since he posed for Tim Walker for the cover of Fine Line wearing a Gucci pair—a silhouette that was repeated in the tour wardrobe. (“I liked the idea of having that uniform,” says Styles.) Reed’s version is worn with a hoopskirt draped in festoons of hot-pink satin that somehow suggests Deborah Kerr asking Yul Brynner’s King of Siam, “Shall we dance?”

Styles introduces me to the writer and eyewear designer Gemma Styles, “my sister from the same womb,” he says. She is also here for the fitting: The siblings plan to surprise their mother with the double portrait on these pages.

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

“My mum loved to dress us up,” she remembers. “I always hated it, and Harry was always quite into it. She did some really elaborate papier-mâché outfits: She made a giant mug and then painted an atlas on it, and that was Harry being ‘The World Cup.’ Harry also had a little dalmatian-dog outfit,” she adds, “a hand-me-down from our closest family friends. He would just spend an inordinate amount of time wearing that outfit. But then Mum dressed me up as Cruella de Vil. She was always looking for any opportunity!”

“As a kid I definitely liked fancy dress,” Styles says. There were school plays, the first of which cast him as Barney, a church mouse. “I was really young, and I wore tights for that,” he recalls. “I remember it was crazy to me that I was wearing a pair of tights. And that was maybe where it all kicked off!”

Acting has also remained a fundamental form of expression for Styles. His sister recalls that even on the eve of his life-changing X Factor audition, Styles could sing in public only in an assumed voice. “He used to do quite a good sort of Elvis warble,” she remembers. During the rehearsals in the family home, “he would sing in the bathroom because if it was him singing as himself, he just couldn’t have anyone looking at him! I love his voice now,” she adds. “I’m so glad that he makes music that I actually enjoy listening to.”

Styles’s role-playing continued soon after 1D went on permanent hiatus in 2016, and he was cast in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, beating out dozens of professional actors for the role. “The good part was my character was a young soldier who didn’t really know what he was doing,” says Styles modestly. “The scale of the movie was so big that I was a tiny piece of the puzzle. It was definitely humbling. I just loved being outside of my comfort zone.”

His performance caught the eye of Olivia Wilde, who remembers that it “blew me away—the openness and commitment.” In turn, Styles loved Wilde’s directorial debut, Booksmart, and is “very honored” that she cast him in a leading role for her second feature, a thriller titled Don’t Worry Darling, which went into production this fall. Styles will play the husband to Florence Pugh in what Styles describes as “a 1950s utopia in the California desert.”

Wilde’s movie is costumed by Academy Award nominee Arianne Phillips. “She and I did a little victory dance when we heard that we officially had Harry in the film,” notes Wilde, “because we knew that he has a real appreciation for fashion and style. And this movie is incredibly stylistic. It’s very heightened and opulent, and I’m really grateful that he is so enthusiastic about that element of the process—some actors just don’t care.”

“I like playing dress-up in general,” Styles concurs, in a masterpiece of understatement: This is the man, after all, who cohosted the Met’s 2019 “Notes on Camp” gala attired in a nipple-freeing black organza blouse with a lace jabot, and pants so high-waisted that they cupped his pectorals. The ensemble, accessorized with the pearl-drop earring of a dandified Elizabethan courtier, was created for Styles by Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, whom he befriended in 2014. Styles, who has subsequently personified the brand as the face of the Gucci fragrance, finds Michele “fearless with his work and his imagination. It’s really inspiring to be around someone who works like that.”

The two first met in London over a cappuccino. “It was just a kind of PR appointment,” says Michele, “but something magical happened, and Harry is now a friend. He has the aura of an English rock-and-roll star—like a young Greek god with the attitude of James Dean and a little bit of Mick Jagger—but no one is sweeter. He is the image of a new era, of the way that a man can look.”

Styles credits his style transformation—from Jack Wills tracksuit-clad boy-band heartthrob to nonpareil fashionisto—to his meeting the droll young stylist Harry Lambert seven years ago. They hit it off at once and have conspired ever since, enjoying a playfully campy rapport and calling each other Sue and Susan as they parse the niceties of the scarlet lace Gucci man-bra that Michele has made for Vogue’s shoot, for instance, or a pair of Bode pants hand-painted with biographical images (Styles sent Emily Adams Bode images of his family, and a photograph he had found of David Hockney and Joni Mitchell. “The idea of those two being friends, to me, was really beautiful,” Styles explains).

“He just has fun with clothing, and that’s kind of where I’ve got it from,” says Styles of Lambert. “He doesn’t take it too seriously, which means I don’t take it too seriously.” The process has been evolutionary. At his first meeting with Lambert, the stylist proposed “a pair of flares, and I was like, ‘Flares? That’s fucking crazy,’ ” Styles remembers. Now he declares that “you can never be overdressed. There’s no such thing. The people that I looked up to in music—Prince and David Bowie and Elvis and Freddie Mercury and Elton John—they’re such showmen. As a kid it was completely mind-blowing. Now I’ll put on something that feels really flamboyant, and I don’t feel crazy wearing it. I think if you get something that you feel amazing in, it’s like a superhero outfit. Clothes are there to have fun with and experiment with and play with. What’s really exciting is that all of these lines are just kind of crumbling away. When you take away ‘There’s clothes for men and there’s clothes for women,’ once you remove any barriers, obviously you open up the arena in which you can play. I’ll go in shops sometimes, and I just find myself looking at the women’s clothes thinking they’re amazing. It’s like anything—anytime you’re putting barriers up in your own life, you’re just limiting yourself. There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never really thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something.”

“He’s up for it,” confirms Lambert, who earlier this year, for instance, found a JW Anderson cardigan with the look of a Rubik’s Cube (“on sale at matches.com!”). Styles wore it, accessorized with his own pearl necklace, for a Today rehearsal in February and it went viral: His fans were soon knitting their own versions and posting the results on TikTok. Jonathan Anderson declared himself “so impressed and incredibly humbled by this trend” that he nimbly made the pattern available (complete with a YouTube tutorial) so that Styles’s fans could copy it for free. Meanwhile, London’s storied Victoria & Albert Museum has requested Styles’s original: an emblematic document of how people got creative during the COVID era. “It’s going to be in their permanent collection,” says Lambert exultantly. “Is that not sick? Is that not the most epic thing?”

“To me, he’s very modern,” says Wilde of Styles, “and I hope that this brand of confidence as a male that Harry has—truly devoid of any traces of toxic masculinity—is indicative of his generation and therefore the future of the world. I think he is in many ways championing that, spearheading that. It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence.”

“He’s really in touch with his feminine side because it’s something natural,” notes Michele. “And he’s a big inspiration to a younger generation—about how you can be in a totally free playground when you feel comfortable. I think that he’s a revolutionary.”

STYLES’S confidence is on full display the day after the fitting, which finds us all on the beautiful Sussex dales. Over the summit of the hill, with its trees blown horizontal by the fierce winds, lies the English Channel. Even though it’s a two-hour drive from London, the fresh-faced Styles, who went to bed at 9 p.m., has arrived on set early: He is famously early for everything. The team is installed in a traditional flint-stone barn. The giant doors have been replaced by glass and frame a bucolic view of distant grazing sheep. “Look at that field!” says Styles. “How lucky are we? This is our office! Smell the roses!” Lambert starts to sing “Kumbaya, my Lord.”

Hairdresser Malcolm Edwards is setting Styles’s hair in a Victory roll with silver clips, and until it is combed out he resembles Kathryn Grayson with stubble. His fingers are freighted with rings, and “he has a new army of mini purses,” says Lambert, gesturing to an accessory table heaving with examples including a mini sky-blue Gucci Diana bag discreetly monogrammed HS. Michele has also made Styles a dress for the shoot that Tissot might have liked to paint—acres of ice-blue ruffles, black Valenciennes lace, and suivez-moi, jeune homme ribbons. Erelong, Styles is gamely racing up a hill in it, dodging sheep scat, thistles, and shards of chalk, and striking a pose for Mitchell that manages to make ruffles a compelling new masculine proposition, just as Mr. Fish’s frothy white cotton dress—equal parts Romantic poet and Greek presidential guard—did for Mick Jagger when he wore it for The Rolling Stones’ free performance in Hyde Park in 1969, or as the suburban-mom floral housedress did for Kurt Cobain as he defined the iconoclastic grunge aesthetic. Styles is mischievously singing ABBA’s “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” to himself when Mitchell calls him outside to jump up and down on a trampoline in a Comme des Garçons buttoned wool kilt. “How did it look?” asks his sister when he comes in from the cold. “Divine,” says her brother in playful Lambert-speak.

As the wide sky is washed in pink, orange, and gray, like a Turner sunset, and Mitchell calls it a successful day, Styles is playing “Cherry” from Fine Line on his Fender acoustic on the hilltop. “He does his own stunts,” says his sister, laughing. The impromptu set is greeted with applause. “Thank you, Antwerp!” says Styles playfully, bowing to the crowd. “Thank you, fashion!”

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

Text

Three Asks

It’s been a while since we answered some asks so today and maybe tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, we’ll collect some and answer them since we’ve gotten while a few in the last two or three weeks.

In today’s post I picked out the three most recent asks we’ve received, two of which are ones I’d usually just delete because answering is pointless but one of them showcased a popular pattern so we decided to reply just this once. So this time around the questions are about Namjoon and Seokjin, next time we’ll do ones about Tae and Jimin (and vmin), and so on.

Ask 1 - Did Namjoon have to bring up the criticism he received in 2015/16 in the Juju Chang interview?

Ask 2 and 3 - questions from either diet solos (someone who isn’t quite a solo stan just yet but exhibits the same thought patterns as solos do) or full on solo stans.

From anon: So you must have seen their interview alongside the President right on a news show? Most of it was fine and I liked how involved they were especially JK, but a point Namjoon made is what I'm kinda dicey about. He addressed that they were called out for WoH lyrics but the thing is I'm not sure if it needed to be brought up. Especially in American media and the way they contextualize things..

Obviously he meant that they grew from it but not sure if that was the way to put it I guess?

I will admit, there aren’t many times when asks that get sent to us annoy me, but this one in conjunction with the absolute nonsense that took place about this on twt just made my blood boil. Let’s look at the question and answer so we have full context when it comes to the interview and then, after that, we’ll look at the greater context of why Namjoon saying what he did is significant and a big deal.

Juju Chang: You guys are an all male band and, let’s face it, Korea, historically, has been a very male dominated culture and yet here at the UN one of the core values in Sustainable Development is educating women and having gender equality. You have a lot of female fans. What would you say to them about gender equality and working towards that?

Namjoon: Personally, I received a lot fo criticism regarding misogyny in 2015 and 2016, which led me to get my lyrics reviewed by a women’s studies professor. That experience, in turn, was an opportunity for me to self-reflect and question whether I’d been insensitive toward gender equality. I want to do the best I can to take interest in the topic, learn and make improvements. That’s my perspective now.

Namjoon used a personal story as framework to showcase that even someone like him, a man in a position of power/influence from a country which, as the interviewer explained, is very male dominated can learn, grow and, in the long run, contribute to change. It takes tremendous bravery to do something like this, to not only admit that you made such a mistake, but also to take it and grow from it, take the time to reflect and strive to better yourself to never repeat it again. And also talk about doing so not only during an international broadcast but also while your own president sits right there next to you.

Perhaps there are a relatively big number of countries in the west where equality is much closer to being a reality, where it is a core value to respect woman, one that you are raised with, but here the context was specifically BTS and their background, their country and their culture. From K-ARMY we know that things have taken a turn for the worse in Korea when it comes to women’s rights and the behavior of men toward them, how feminism is treated essentially as a dirty word and you will get hunted down for using it or for behaving in a feminist manner. Namjoon himself was placed on some list made by misogynists labeling him as a dirty, dirty feminist. The same men who even went after the military to get them to stop using a hand gesture which could, if you really want to, be used to make fun of a man for a small d*ck. In polls men in their 20s and 30s have voted being against feminism and I don’t mean just like 10 or 20% of voters, but rather 50-70%, even some presidential candidates have apparently been revealed as anti-feminists.

Circling back to Namjoon, having this context, do you now get why it was a big thing for him to say this, why it makes him a role model and why it was important to do so? Besides this isn’t just about the WoH lyrics which, to be frank, were never an actual issue but instead were made into one (the line I know that usually get’s brought up most is “The girls are equations, and us guys are solutions” which, if you think about it, actually means that boys and girls are equal since 2+5=7, the equation and the solution are the same, and also the song is satire about hormonal boys and their behavior which people have decided to ignore for the sake of sitting on their high horses instead). Namjoon wasn’t even the only member credited for the lyrics yet he took the blame upon himself, used this to better himself even though we know 2015 was an extremely dark time for him. But he is the leader, he took responsibility and he grew from it. He stands as example of how change is possible even in a country that is male dominated and misogynistic.

From anon: Reading your post about My universe I can’t but be heavy hearted.

It’s such a beautiful song but Jin not having almost any lines ruined the experience for me. He deserves so much more than being a mere backup vocal. Same goes to Jimin but I’m not as effected as Jin, since we’ve all seen a pattern there.

We know the boys decide collectively decide LD and how it fits their personalities and voices but I can’t but feel icky about Dynamite, not today, BS&T and now MY.

I truly hope this doesn’t continue and BH decides to respect Jin more as an artist. He’s one of the biggest reasons the group is where it is now.

Though I can’t say with 100% certainty that this comes from someone that has consumed too much solo stan “content”, it does very much feel like it and the only reason why I’m even answering this is that I’d like to highlight something, a pattern we've seen a million times over for years now in regard to line distribution but that is even more glaring and flawed in this case, after we’ve seen how My Universe was recorded:

“We know the boys collectively decide” and yet “and BH decides to respect Jin more”, with this you’re basically saying that you know all the members, including Seokjin, are involved BUT since giving him and the others slack for it would make you look bad, you instead throw blame at BH, which in this case had no say in the line distribution. That choice was Christ Martin’s to make. If you already complain about line distribution, at least have the guts to direct your hate at the people you just said yourself make the choice--the members. Solos already belittle Seokjin’s efforts as it is, and constantly demand an acting debut of him which basically, to me, just comes across as them wanting him to act because they don’t value his singing and music, so would it be really that farfetched for them to also hate on him for, what, not speaking up and demanding more to satisfy you?

Seokjin was so happy and excited while recording My Universe, while meeting Chris Martin, someone he’s admired and been a fan of for so long. He gave his best while recording and sounded absolutely marvelously, and yet instead of celebrating him, his voice, and what we do hear of him, you just focus on the negatives.

BH isn’t perfect by any means, don’t even try to come into our asks calling me a company stan or whatever because I’m far from it, but in this case they had nothing to do with it. Coldplay and Chris Martin did. We saw all the members record the chorus, and we heard it, we saw and heard Seokjin sing absolutely beautifully and get praise for it, and we saw how happy this collab has made him. Why can’t you just let this be a happy time, why must you immediately search for things to be negative about?

Would I have liked so hear more of his voice on My Universe? Obviously, I even said as much in my post about the song. I love Seokjin and his voice a lot, he is my bias wrecker for a reason. But the song has already happened, been recorded, mastered, and released. What will a negativity parade change? What? Absolutely nothing except for make him feel bad because you can’t just say “Seokjin did amazingly, I love his voice”, no, you have to go around yelling “OMG he is being cut from the song because BH hates him”. What does that do for him? Like really, tell me, because I don’t get it.

And if my opinion isn’t valid enough for you, it is, after all, just an opinion, take Seokjin’s opinion about the collab instead:

Or asks such as this one:

From anon: I honestly can’t wait for Seokjin to go solo one day. Go where he’s appreciated for his talents and musicality, not cuz he’s just a “hyung” or “comic relief” or “WWH”.

Where, tell me, has he ever expressed an interest in going solo? No, I’m serious, where, because all I know is that he is happy with his members, with what he does, that he enjoys making music and getting more involved than he used to. Just the other day during the interview with Juju Chang he spoke about how he misses the old times where he could go for soju and food with Yoongi to spend some time together.

And just a few years before that Yoongi said that Seokjin has been good from the beginning, and there are tons of other examples of the members praising Seokjin in terms of his voice and musicality. When he was going through burnout last year, Bang PD encouraged him to channel his thoughts and feelings into music, recommended him a producer he thought work well with him, and Seokjin said it really did help him. And we got Abyss as result from it all, a gorgeous and raw song.

Yes, he gets praise for being a good hyung, because guess what, he is a good hyung. Maybe for you that’s not good enough, but he’s proud of it, has always taken the fact that he’s the eldest seriously even when goofing around with his members. How is that a bad thing?

Seokjin loves his members and they love him. Seokjin loves ARMY and we love him back tenfold. Just because solos hate the members and aren’t satisfied with Seokjin, how is that my issue or even his? If you’re a genuine fan of his, support his hard work, support all his contributions to BTS’ music, their performances, their dancing, and everything else. Because he is part of BTS regardless if you like it or not, and as far as we are aware, he doesn’t plan on changing that any time soon, or at all.

#answered ask #namjoon #seokjin

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squeeneyart · 3 years

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 25

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger

Nothing to do but talk.

Martin and Jon settle in for a movie night.

The documentary, if it could be called that, was absolute bunk.

Littered throughout were vague interviews and wild assumptions on the part of the very on-screen director, all tied together with a final push for people to purchase a very specific brand of smoke detector. And the low quality of the video couldn’t be blamed solely on Martin’s internet.

They watched the thing from start to finish, though, and by the end of its 70-minute runtime (“I should’ve guessed by how short it was,” Jon had grumbled partway through) their viewing had turned primarily to Jon taking the piss out of it. Academically, of course.

On Martin’s end the film itself was bad in an enjoyable way, and while he didn’t have the context for all of Jon’s complaints it was easy for him to listen. He’d even made some jokes that got Jon to snort.

He did have to sit uncomfortably straight to keep from leaning against each other. Jon had turned it a bit so they could both see, but when viewed from too hard an angle the picture looked even worse. So, Martin did his best to give Jon space and not let the effort distract him from the screen.

All of this being true, Martin was grateful for the horrible film. Nothing filled silence better than movies and television, so the nights following they settled into a routine. Someone would make dinner (with no further… outbursts) and then they would find something to watch. Afterwards they would say goodnight and Martin would escape upstairs to decompress with his little notebook.

Jon’s original idea had been to find something related to their goals. However, after another let down on night two involving a very old retrospective on the mid-century fishing industry (“Wrong century,” Martin had said about five minutes in), Jon dropped the idea, thus opening up a whole new world of cable television and old vhs tapes on night three.

“You bought yourself a laptop but never had a dvd player?” Jon yawned, getting comfortable on his side of the couch.

“We sort of… skipped it?” Martin dug through a box of tapes for something worth watching, sifting through sappier options and 80s action flicks alike. “Dunno how, but we never got one. The laptop ended up being the first thing I ever had to play dvds, but the telly is too old to be hooked up to it. S’fine, though. I like tapes.”

“And you never get bored of it? Flipping between tapes and whatever’s on at a given time?”

Martin rolled his eyes. “I have a phone for other stuff, obviously. To be honest I don’t watch a lot to begin with, nothing new anyway.”

“Hmph. Same for me,” Jon conceded, sinking further into the couch. “Feels like there are other things I could be doing.”

“Except for now?”

A wry smile. “Special case.”

Martin’s stomach did a flip. He didn’t feel guilty, per se, but he wished he had something for Jon to work on to stave off the boredom. Everything had been so quiet with Peter gone and Simon’s waiting that no new leads had popped up. It wasn’t fair that Jon had to sit around doing nothing after wandering about in the sea for weeks. The least he could do was provide some entertainment.

“Hm. Right, how about this one?” Martin looked back and waved a vhs set. It was some old fantasy series with a group of children on the cover standing in a hallway. “Haven’t watched it since I was a kid, but I remember liking it.”

“Two tapes’ worth?” Jon glanced up at the ceiling. “It’s in episodes, right?”

“Yeah, though if you’d rather find something else…?”

Jon waved his hand. "No, I can’t spend the whole evening making up my mind. If we don’t like it, then we can find something else.”

With that settled Martin popped the tape in and took up his seat. On the other end, Jon sat with the blanket pulled to his chest. He wore a new set of pyjamas Martin had picked up at the shop along with a few other things to save Jon from having to wear the same clothes day and night.

The show was a simple series meant for children, easy enough to follow in plot that some side chatter didn’t interrupt things too much. Honestly, Martin was glad they weren’t paying a whole lot of attention. He hadn’t watched it in years and wasn’t looking to be embarrassed.

A few minutes in, the children from the cover were running up the stairs to explore a large house. “Safe to assume you don’t have siblings?” Jon asked.

“Hm? Oh, no, it’s just me. You?”

He snorted. “Even if my grandmother wanted another child running around, I was enough to deal with.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “What, were you a terror?”

“I’d use the word ‘adventurous’, but she would’ve agreed with that description. If we’d been in that house,” Jon gestured toward the screen, “she would’ve been in trouble. Until it ate me or something.”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes?”

Jon frowned. “That’s- No, I mean if it were real it would probably mean harm. Supernatural houses aren’t trustworthy entities outside of fiction. In fiction they’re mischievous at the least.”

“Can’t imagine that, a building that likes to mess with you,” Martin said, grimacing. He really didn’t remember much about this story. Maybe that was how it went? “I’m sure they’ll be fine. I wasn’t into spooky things back then.”

“I’ll take your word for it, but I’m not letting my guard down,” Jon said. He watched as the children walked up a spiral staircase. “Would you have wanted siblings?”

Martin considered this. “I can’t imagine having them? But an older sibling would’ve been nice. Someone to know better and help me with things.”

“I think any other child would’ve found me irritating, older or younger. Best to keep to myself,” Jon said dryly. “Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes, you can imagine the additional worry of raising a child who could explore the ocean like it was the woods. It’s not like she could follow me in.”

“I bet… She wasn’t like you, then?”

Turning back to the television, Jon said, “No. She was from my father’s side.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t tell if the question was wrong to ask, so looked back to the show. It was luck of the draw, then, whether someone was born with a selkie skin. Perhaps there was nothing to do with genetics in circumstances like this.

Back on the screen, one of the children had chosen to wander outside into the beginnings of a snowstorm with no thought to the cold. Outside the real world window it had begun to hail, and Martin realized how frigid it had become both outdoors and in.

“Well, at least this story is right for the season,” Martin said, standing up. “I’m gonna grab another blanket.”

With a start, Jon looked at him and held up the one he was under. “Do you want this one? I don’t-”

“N-no, that’s fine!” He walked briskly out of the room, feeling rude and stupid. All Jon had offered was for him to use the damned thing, not share it. And it wouldn’t have fit both of them even if he had meant it that way!

Opening the hall closet, he tried to calm down. He peered at the pile of folded sheets and blankets, lifting each layer to search for one he liked. There was a flannel one somewhere, deceptively warm for how thin it was-

Oh.

Tucked far down into the pile, far back enough so it was hidden if the one above wasn’t lifted, Martin saw something dappled and grey and out of place amongst the linen. Jon had left it to dry completely beforehand, so the surrounding fabric was unwrinkled. Considerate. And in a decent hiding place all things considered. It was a shame Martin had gone and ruined it.

He sighed, grabbing one of the blankets at the top that he’d initially passed on. Once he reached the doorway to the living room, he stopped and stared at Jon who was doing his best to seem unperturbed.

“So, I saw it,” he started, squeezing the blanket in his arms into his chest. “I use that closet a lot, if you want to put it somewhere else.”

Jon winced and stood. As Martin let him pass, he mumbled, “Right. I’ll just-”

And then Martin was left to sit back on the couch and wait, pausing the tape out of courtesy.

When the skin had disappeared from the shower that first morning he hadn’t considered anything but Jon hiding it, and there was an awful satisfaction in knowing he was right. He rubbed his arm and stared at the blanket in his lap, still neat and folded.

After a couple of minutes, Jon returned empty handed and resumed his seat. Pulling his blanket back up, he said, “It’s nothing… personal.”

“I know.” He took a deep breath and pressed play on the old remote, letting the child continue their new solo adventure. “I figured you hid it.”

“I appreciate that you told me.” His voice was stilted and unsure. “That you found it.”

“Sure, whatever helps.” Unfolding the blanket, he pulled it up to his shoulders and leaned on the arm rest. He could feel Jon fidgeting in place, turning the blanket so it faced the right way and making it tuck under him in the right places. Martin kept his eyes ahead.

Finally giving up on any further adjustments, Jon slouched into place. “It does help. I know my caution can come off as distrust, but genuinely I just… I need to keep it hidden. I need to know where it is and to be the only one who does. For now.”

“You… don’t need to justify anything.” Martin sighed and had to fight back a yawn. “It’s your coat.”

A grunt of frustration. “No, you don’t- It’s not a rational thing. I trusted you enough to tell you the truth, and yet I was barely into my first night here before I panicked and stowed it away.” He sat upright and let the blanket fall to his lap, quiet distress written across the lines of his forehead.

Grasping for words, Martin said, “You still haven’t known me that long. It’s not wrong to be careful.”

“That’s not the point,” Jon replied quietly, resting elbows on knees. “It hasn’t been all that long in the grand scheme of things, but a lot has happened. I consider you a friend. And yet I can’t stop feeling like everything is about to go wrong if I’m not careful.”

The hail continued to slam against the window, almost overpowering the sound of the television and the faun describing the witch’s plans. On the far side of the couch, Jon remained hunched over his own knees with his face bent in irritation.

A wave of shame broke against him, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it. Carefully, Martin scooted over just enough to reach out a hand. His trembling fingers hovered just an inch away, brushing against the fabric of Jon’s shirt before coming to rest on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Jon whispered, massaging around his eyes with his fingers. He reached his free hand up to tentatively cover Martin’s, giving it a tiny squeeze. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Do you… want to keep watching?”

Jon nodded, shaking himself out a little. Martin released the gentle grip on his shoulder, though he didn’t move away. They both settled into the back of the couch and watched.

The child had gone back inside with the shivers, but no one was to be found. Around the halls she wandered, calling her siblings’ names with indignation that slowly turned to concern and then to fear. Eventually she was running, and it wasn’t until she was on the upper floor that one of her brothers popped out to scare the living daylights out of her.

Deep down he remembered this part making him cry. Perhaps siblings weren’t worth it with how cruel children could be.

Martin coughed. “You explored the sea as a kid, then?”

Jumping slightly, Jon said, “O-only a couple of times. And not far from the land. And it’s not as fun when you can only grab one thing at a time, with your mouth. I sorely missed my pockets and picking up sticks.” As he spoke, he resumed the more casual tone from before with modest success.

“You thought checking out the sea with no real limits was too much of a hassle?”

With a roll of his eyes, Jon said, “It wasn’t entirely that. Eventually my grandmother warned me away from it. Told me about dangerous animals that absolutely weren’t native to the coast where we lived.”

“Great white sharks?”

“Surrounding our seaside village on every watery side, ready to eat hapless little seal boys who didn’t listen to their nans.”

Martin chuckled, relaxing further into his seat and listening to Jon go on about all the ways his grandmother had tried and failed to reign him in. He could see it, a younger, scrappier version of the man next to him stomping around the woods and climbing fences.

The instinct wasn’t all that relatable to someone like Martin who’d kept to the front porch on nice days, but it sounded like an adventure. Maybe it meant he was less likely to get eaten by an evil wardrobe out of the two of them. In his position he could only hope that was the case.

They called it for the night when, out of nowhere, a man suddenly appeared at half opacity screen and let out a screeching noise to close out an episode, making Jon laugh in a way that only could’ve been from exhaustion.

Martin lingered downstairs for a while after they shut the television off. It was Friday, after all. For many reasons they couldn’t go out to a pub, but without the need to get up early he could afford to stay up a little longer and listen to a sleepy Jon talk over the tapping on the window panes.

Tim: not next weekend, but the one after i think. finally time to call it on preparation and get down to business, if this is something we can be prepared for

Martin: encouraging

Tim: look its been rough over here, alright?

Martin: i know, sorry. itll be easier to talk once we’re all in one place

Tim: yeah

Tim: things are ok over there, then? youre sounding better

Martin: ?

Tim: it was starting to get scary if im honest, how quiet you were

Martin: oh, sorry. things are fine, just didnt have a lot to say

Tim: yeah, i get it. its hard to fill the space. dont be a stranger though. in a few weeks we’ll be there to get you out of this mess

Martin: looking forward to it

Sighing, Martin looked from the private chat to Jon, who was ignoring his breakfast to type away at the laptop. “Sounds like the others are making plans to get here.”

Jon looked up briefly. “Good. It will be… nice to see them.”

“And show them you’re not dead?”

Ignoring this, Jon said, “How is Tim doing?”

He glanced back at his phone. “Worried. About a lot of things, I think.”

“Thinking of how he’s going to break my disappearance to you, no doubt,” he said, taking a sip of his tea. He avoided Martin’s eyes. “That’ll be resolved soon enough.”

Martin poked at the eggs on his plate. “He… lost someone, didn’t he?”

It was only for a moment, but Jon froze in the middle of setting his mug down. He seemed to struggle with an answer.

“It’s fine if you can’t say, but he implied as much,” Martin said gently.

With a frown, Jon shut the laptop. “Sasha knows more than I do, but yes. His brother, a few years ago.”

“Oh. That’s… really sad.” He leaned back in his chair. “He seems like he’d be a good brother.”

“I’m sure he was. He certainly looks out for us.” Jon took a bite of his toast.

“As best as he can,” Martin added sheepishly.

“Once this is all finished he’s earned a vacation.”

Yes, they’d all given poor Tim their share of heart attacks. Martin had managed to several times in the last month. But at least when the time came Tim would see that both of them were alive and themselves and able to apologize for making his and Sasha’s lives just a bit harder than they needed to be.

Once it was all finished.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #selkie au

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gravegroves · 3 years

Note

Can I ask about 2 and 8 for the wip tag game?

I've already talked about 8 (search #tag game in my tags and you'll find it).

But omg thank you for asking about 2!!

2. Like a Bat Out of Hell, Indiana

Oh man, oh man. This. This right here? This is my baby. My precious. The one I wrote so self indulgently that even if no one else likes it, I LIKE IT. And I'm completely okay with that.

El and Hopper fail at closing the gate at the end of s2, Billy appears at the Byers' house just in time and so begins a mad dash across the country, trying to outrun the end of the fucking world.

Tw: death (no one we care about though)

Excerpt:

The sound of a car roaring into the driveway has Steve's heart crashing up into his throat and they all turn to watch as headlights dance across the living room walls, sharp and blinding, like a goddamn beacon of hope.

And Steve doesn't have time to think about why the deep rumbling of the engine sounds so familiar.

He moves the kids now or they die.

"Get to the car, now!" Steve screams, just as the window at the end of the hall explodes inward.

Max gets to the door first and tears out of the house, sprinting toward the high beam lights with the boys hot on her heels.

"Billy!" She screams and goddamnit she can't mean--

She reaches the car, yanks the passenger side door open and pushes the front seat forward, shoving Dustin, Mike and Lucas into the back before diving in herself, righting the front seat in a practised move just in time for Steve to jump in after her.

And yep. There he is.

Hargrove's expression would be hilarious if they weren't seconds away from being overrun by a horde of carnivorous monster dogs.

"What the fuck do you losers think you're doing?!" Billy roars, eyes bugging slightly when he recognises Steve.

"Harrington?!"

Steve grabs him by the collar and screams into his face: "Just fucking drive!"

A loud crash has them both snapping their heads to the side just in time to watch as a hundred Demodogs or more come rushing out from behind the Byers' house, heading straight for them.

Without another word, Billy yanks the car into reverse and accelerates before hitting the breaks. Steve's stomach swoops as their momentum lets the wheels slide over the gravel to land perfectly on the road.

He grabs Billy's arm, yanks on it like it might shake some urgency into him.

"Hargrove, go!"

"Seatbelts! Get the seatbelts" Max yells at the others.

That's what she's worried about? Steve thinks, even as he reaches over his shoulder to strap himself in.

Then Billy puts the car into gear and guns it forward and they go from 0 to 70 mph in ten seconds flat, zooming down old, twisting back roads and Steve honestly can't believe that Hargrove's insane, wannabe NASCAR driving is gonna be what saves their asses tonight.

"What the hell are you doing all the way out here with my sister, huh?" Billy yells, taking his eyes off the road to look over at him and Steve might seriously have a fucking heart attack.

"Eyes on the road!" He exclaims, foot searching the footwell for a break pedal that isn't there, "For real, man? You want to do this now?!"

"Or you can get out and fucking walk, amigo," Billy snarls, swerving around another Demodog leaping for the hood of his car, "What the hell is up with these dogs?"

"Billy, stop it! Can you jus-- look out!" Max shrieks, her arm shooting between them to point straight ahead and the kids all begin yelling as the flower-in-bloom-faced ugly fuck grows larger in the windscreen at an alarming speed.

Smooth as butter, Billy avoids the gaping creature in their path, not taking his foot off the accelerator for even a second. Steve's heart beats a drum solo against his adam's apple. His fingers feel fused to the edges of the seat, holding on for dear life.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck was that?" Billy turns to look behind him and Steve clenches his teeth so hard his jaw hurts, barely restraining himself from yanking Billy around to face forward again.

"Hargrove, I swear to God--"

"Oh god, look."

Steve turns his head the slightest amount to see Lucas pointing out of the window at the treeline to their right.

Demodogs.

Lots of them.

So many slimy, greyish bodies that the forest floor has all but disappeared and transformed into a churning sea of dark, slick oil.

More worryingly, they're all running in the same direction as the Camaro.

Fuck.

"What the…" Billy falters when he looks out of the window at the treeline, then seems to shake it off, placing his undivided attention back on the road for once.

He speeds up to pass a whole group of the beasts trying to cross to the other side, narrowly misses being cut off entirely by the mass of Demodog bodies. Steve releases a hand from the seat only to clutch at the grab handle on the door. He closes his eyes, swears he can feel his stomach fall out of his ass when the wheels on his side of the car lift into the air for half a beat.

"Shit, we're gonna die!" Dustin wails, voice wobbly as Billy jerks the wheel again to avoid a creature charging straight for them. If the kids weren't already packed in like sardines they'd be sliding around back there, seatbelt or no. "We're definitely gonna die! This psycho is gonna kill us before the monsters do!"

Billy scowls into the rear-view mirror and grits out "Hey kid, you're welcome to get out and walk."

"You literally tried to run us off the road a week ago--"

"Not the time, Dustin!" Max snaps and shushes him.

"We need to get to the gate!" Mike blurts out, leaning forward to speak directly at Steve. Demanding. "We need to help El!"

Steve doesn't even have the faintest idea of how to begin doing any of that.

"Dude, we can't just go back there, are you crazy--" Lucas pulls him back and they continue to argue in harsh whispers.

"If you losers don't shut the fuck up, I'll crash this goddamn car just so I can take you all with me." Billy barks, knuckles white on the wheel.

"Oh my god, see! What did I tell you?" Dustin exclaims, "He's dangerous, Steve!"

Yeah, well, he's all that we've got, Steve doesn’t say. "Shut up, Dustin."

They turn into the first proper residential street and Billy misses a tree by an inch as he tries to avoid colliding with five demodogs hunched over something on the road.

Oh god, was that a body?

"Harrington, where the fuck am I going?"

Steve closes his eyes, overwhelmed and completely out of his depth. They might have been the B team, but there hadn't actually been a plan B--

"Fuck, fuck! I don't know--"

"Billy," Max pleads, voice shaky with terror, silencing them all, "My mom…"

Billy sighs explosively before turning down a side street, barely slowing down.

"Shit."

*****

It's not just Max's mom, but Dustin's mom, too. Lucas's family. Mike's family.

They reach Old Cherry Road first and Billy barely allows the car to come to a full stop, Demodogs further down the street are taking notice of them already, stalking forward, mouths blooming excitedly. Steve eyes them warily until a garbled oh fuck from the back seat draws his attention to the other side of the street and--

It's bad.

The porch light sets the stage for a grizzly scene at the Hargrove residence. A woman lies directly beneath it, like the opening shot to a fucked up play, her head of red hair spilling over the top step.

She's very obviously dead. Steve can see where she must have tripped on the welcome rug -- awkwardly stiff and upturned between her feet -- and he can only hope she got knocked out in the fall and didn't feel a thing that came after. There isn't much left between her head and her knees except for a dark patch of gøre.

The headless body of a man lies slumped against a truck parked in the driveway, one arm stuck through the open car door, half torn off within his jacket. Blood still running down the concrete incline, pooling in the roadside gutter.

"Oh, you Bastard," Billy spits, barely a whisper.

The longer Steve stares, the more horrifying the scene becomes.

He doesn't want Max to see this. Or Billy.

Max doesn't make a sound.

Billy slams his fist against the steering wheel a couple of times, then peels away from the curb before the Demodogs can get too close.

*****

Dustin's house is dark. There's no car in the driveway.

"I told her Mews had been seen in Loch Nora. She must still be out looking..." Dustin trails off quietly. Shellshocked.

It's almost midnight. Steve doubts she's still out looking for a cat. And if she is...

"I wanted to keep her out of the way."

No one says anything.

They drive.

*****

The Sinclair house is dark, too, no lights on except for the motion sensor activated ones over the empty carport.

Billy doesn't bother slowing down. The area is absolutely swarming with creatures already.

"It's so late. Where..." Lucas falters, scanning the houses they pass, like he made a mistake and his home will appear any minute now. "Where did they go?"

"I'm sure they're okay, man," Steve tries, but it feels flat, false, "If they're in a car they could make it out. Your mom too, Dustin."

Billy grimaces, but says nothing.

"What?" Steve demands.

"I was just here looking for Max. They were home."

He keeps a laser focus on the road now, on avoiding the monsters spilling out onto their path, growling when he's forced to change down a gear before aggressively working his way up in speed once more, jaw clenched tight.

"You probably caught them on their way out." Steve insists.

Billy looks doubtful, but he nods anyway. Neither of them enough of an asshole to take a kid's hopes away like that.

They move on.

*****

"Let me out," Mike says, quietly. Trembling. Hands pushing against the back of Steve's seat like he'll be able to bend it out of the way through sheer force of will.

No one moves.

The front door to the Wheeler home is open, door splintered where the deadbolt held, but the wood didn't. The car is parked in the carport. All the lights are on.

Karen Wheeler's corpse lies forgotten and half devoured on the front lawn.

In the driveway, a tiny yellow sock lies next to bloody drag marks disappearing into the grass--

Oh god...

"Let me out."

Steve's lips move, but he can't seem to draw breath enough to produce sound..

Billy seems to shake himself out of a daze, takes a deep breath beside him. "Nah, kid."

And Mike just snaps.

"Fuck you! Fuck you!" He screams, punching and kicking the seat in front of him.

Steve leans forward out of the seat and puts his head in his hands.

"Let me out! LET ME OUT!" Mike shrieks, begs.

"No." Billy says again, evenly.

Mike's voice breaks on a wordless scream.

Steve wants to do his own bit of kicking and screaming, but someone needs to keep their fucking head in the game or they're all going to end up dead.

By some twisted turn of fate that someone is turning out to be Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hysterically, he remembers hearing about Billy abandoning Carla Green to walk home alone from the quarry after she'd scratched the Camaro's dashboard with her fake nails by accident.

Mike kicks the back of the seat again. Billy says nothing.

All the kids are crying, now.

Mike's screams eventually taper off into babbling sobs and Dustin does his best to comfort him through his own half-choked cries. Lucas is whispering to a sobbing Max, his own breaths hitching and heaving uncontrollably, on the edge of breaking.

Steve's eyes sting, hidden behind his hands.

He lifts his head up and glances over at Billy, still tracking the side of the road, the edge of the trees. He looks so normal that it almost throws Steve for a loop. He wants to grab Billy by the collar again. Shake him. Scream: what part of this aren't you getting?

"The fuck is going on?" Billy hisses, almost to himself and oh, right.

"Later," Steve promises, hoarsely, digs the heels of his hands into his eyes hard enough to see stars.

"You know what they are?"

"Yeah." Steve says after a great deal of swallowing past the lump in his throat.

If Hargrove's voice betrays even a hint of emotion Steve knows he's gonna fucking lose it. Luckily, the guy keeps his shit together so Steve can keep a lid on his.

"You know what kills them?" Billy continues.

"Heat," Dustin says, voice thick, "And, like, bullets."

Billy nods, "Alright, how warm are we talking?"

"They don't like warm weather or daylight, but I don't think it kills them. Weakens them, maybe. Sends them underground."

"Fire will." Steve says, pulling at his hair until it hurts, dragging himself out of foggy despair and into the present where he's needed. He accidentally runs his gaze past Karen's body and tries not to dry-heave.

Mike is still crying behind him and god fuck, they should get out of here. The kid shouldn't be seeing this.

"Where do we go?" Max whispers, like she read his mind. She sounds as lost as Steve feels.

Billy revs the engine and turns to Steve, "Any requests?"

Steve thinks about the huge empty house waiting for him, a gaping nightmare at the edge of the woods. He balks at the thought.

Where the fuck do we go?

"Just get us out of Hawkins."

#anon ask #tag game #my precious #gravegroves writes #harringrove

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iridescentspacewhale · 2 years

Note

if you could give the guys in ooo solos what concepts do you think would suit each member

this got very long but I'm also very bad with concepts and it's 3am so I hope some of this makes sense 😭 but writing this did entertain me fnfnf

also included some pics

Nine: I'd definitely continue the floral theme that he started with his song Daisy. It's perfect for ooo but also great for him and I think they could find a way to incorporate Wookjin's love for perfume in there.

It would be bright and colorful and fun but also sexy because man does he like showing skin lol

I think they could honestly offically release Daisy as a title track for his solo and build off of that because it's so perfect and omg the physical album could look so pretty covered in daisies

edit: oh also the lyrics of all the songs would probably be gender neutral, a small thing but it's a thing nine has done

Kyubin: I'm not very sure for Kyubin but I could totally see him doing something similar to Wonho. The music would be different because Wonho's style isn't really similar to Kyubin's writing but I can see him on stage flauting his abs and shit.

I could also see him sticking with chill r&b type stuff since that's what he has the most experience with and is incredible with.

I do know for sure the wardrobe would be incredible since this is Mr I Have to Dress like I'm on the Runway Everyday

Mill: oh beloved yongsoo in not very sure....

I honestly wouldn't have him rap, like at all. I don't mind his rapping but by god his singing is amazing LET THE MAN SING

I could see him pulling off a kind of cute preppy concept actually REALLY well but idk if that's what I would want for him...

OH FOR SURE BRING BACK THE DYED HAIR

I could also see him having a song with a really gay music video and lyrics. I say this based off of how his character in libido might have been "the boy" discovering his sexuality but we never really got a resolution because of all the bs that's happened the past like 9 months and even though it wouldn't be the same it could be cool so see that character revisited in another setting and maybe he actually gets the guy this time 😭

Love: Definitely incredible vocals on this, I'd love to see him in the fur coat again and expand off of that vibe for a solo

not very sure for the rest though....

Rie: I think for sungho I would want him to do something more ballad or musical theatre esc oriented. His voice is perfect for that and during lives we have seen he has learned a lot of songs like that on his own

though he's an incredible dancer so it feels shameful to not have him dance....could just be very powerful vocals with great dance for title idk...

Definitely a very sexy concept for him...

Yoojung: For sure would be something very etherial/fantasy esc. Lean into his whole "I'm not a human im a fairy" bit. He would kill a concept similar to INVU

and or stuff that is usually considered to be for female artists since that's his specialty. Really fun dance, could see him doing a collab with a female artist (Yves I'm looking at you) too

semi related but I do hope we see a hanlim f5 collaboration....like that would be so cool to actually see them all work on a song together

(it's yoojung, woodz, kino pentagon, yugyeom got7, and jeon woong ab6ix)

Junji: I'm not sure honestly....he would definitely go crazy with the singing...idk what style, like most of the group he can do anything but I know how badly he wants to be main vocalist. It would also be dance heavy, maybe having the song he would promote having a dance break where he improvises, since that's his specialty

though maybe a rock vibe could work really well for him? Bring back edgy Junji or Junji in the 70s rockstar jacket and leather skirt? His voice could work really well with alt stuff.

(don't bring back the bangs though 😭)

okay....well there's that this was very fun and maybe I'll do a better version in the future

#asks #ooo #i actually had so many pics for each but post limit 😔

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blazedgraysons · 3 years

Text

You're No Good - Ch. 2

C.J. Bennett is an overly ambitious student who dreams of shadowing her favorite author, Eli Jennings. The only thing standing in her way: Grayson Dolan.

warnings: this is a rough draft of a series i never finished. i'm posting the finished chapters before leaving this account. 🤍

part 1

If American Lit 1102 was C.J.’s personal hell, her job could at least be considered her own reprieve.

Sunnyside Vintage is an old shop off of Sunset, having been open for the last 30 years. It wasn’t the nicest of thrift stores — the clothes always have a weird mothball smell and everything is old - and not in the trendy way. C.J. loves it. The windows are huge, letting California sunlight wash the stucco walls gold, and the mannequins are always dressed straight out of the 70’s. The pay isn’t always great, but C.J. is allowed to take whatever she wants more than makes up for it in her eyes.

“I just don’t understand. I mean, Stevens has praised me this entire semester. She even told me personally he’s never had a student write as well as me nor pick up on the work as fast as I have. Wouldn’t that be qualities you’d want in an intern, Bea? Even Grayson Dolan would’ve been a better pick.” C.J. turns to her boss, angrily folding flared jeans.

Another reason C.J. loves Sunnyside — her boss, Beatrice “Bea” Walker. Once a glitzy soap star of the ’50’s, she retired with her husband and opened Sunnyside in the late 80’s. Despite being in her late-70s, she still holds on to the same glamour and charm that made her a household name a century prior.

“Maybe there was another reason. It could be something other then your application.” She croaks, lifting a pumpkin to place next to a costumed mannequin. As halloween rapidly approaches, the store was starting to transform to fit the fall season — hoping to draw in customers to purchase unique costumes for the holiday.

Before she can move to help Bea, the doors chime, signaling an entrance. Walking through with seemingly-glowing skin and a symphonic smile was Alexi, C.J.’s best friend and roommate. It’s hard to miss Alexi whenever she walks into a room — from her bleached-blue hair to eclectic style, she’s never been afraid to follow her own path, something C.J. has always admired. She walks straight to C.J., wrapping her in a loving embrace

“Are you okay? James told me what happened.” Alexi leaves an arm around her, and while C.J. knows it’s supposed to be comforting; all she can think about is how much she wants Alexi to leave. It’s one thing to rant to her elderly boss, someone who would love her in spite of her shortcomings and faults. But to know her own friend group has already heard about her misfortune, sending over someone to comfort and soothe, it was all just a little too pitiful for her to handle.

“Theta’s are throwing a party tonight. It’ll be the perfect pick-me-up, and you can forget all about Evans Jensen-“

“Eli Jennings” C.J. corrects.

“Whoever” Alexi rolls her eyes at the interruption, “is missing out on your incredible talent because of an idiotic professor’s incompetence. Everyone’s going and it won’t be the same without you, C.”

“As much as I would love that, Lex, I really just want to be alone tonight. Shitty beer, cheap Indian food, a sad movie so I don’t have to think about how these past four years have been a waste.”

“Not a waste, first of all. Look, I know that you’ve had this whole plan for your life since you popped out the womb, but shit happens, things change. This isn’t a failure, just think of it as a temporary setback. Plus, when life gives you lemons, you…” She trails off, waiting for C.J. to finish.

“Make lemonade?” She sighs.

“Use it to chase tequila.” Alexi giggles.

“I would go, but I have to close. Right, Bea?"

"Don't use me as an excuse. You should go, maybe find a boy to take home." Alexi makes a face at Beatrice's statement and C.J.'s face heats up.

“You’re going - no more buts. Wear something cute. Something that maybe doesn’t make if look like you were alive for Vietnam.” Alexi’s already leaving, kissing Beatrice lightly on the cheek on her way out.

This was how C.J. found herself standing outside the Theta Lambda frat house, October air chilling her through her jacket. She shifts her weight between her feet, surveying the small group around her. Alexi talks animatedly on the phone, asking for whoever to meet them out front.

A random person bumps into her, forcing her to spill the contents of her purse onto the dewey grass. C.J. groans, bending down to pick everything up while mentally thinking to herself all of the other things she could be doing right now.

A pair of dirty air forces steps in front of C.J. and she slowly looks up at the girl standing in front of her. She’s pretty, stunning actually. C.J. recognizes her immediately. Channing Williams - social chair of Rho Xi sorority and the key to all the best parties on campus. Dressed in a black romper and red velvet jacket, she’s everything C.J. isn’t and a quiet twinge of jealousy plucks her heart. ‘I bet she’s never lost out on an internship.’ she thinks bitterly.

“Sorry, do you know anyone?” Channing asks, voice soft and sweet with a clipboard in hand. C.J. looks at Alexi, waiting to hear her answer.

“Not really? I mean we know people, but we aren’t going to be on your clipboard or anything so if you could just let us slide through, I’m sure there’s someone here who could like vouch for us or something?” C.J. wants to slap her — not only did she drag her out in below-freezing weather, but she couldn’t even guarantee them a way inside.

“Well this is a greek-only party so unless you know anyone….” Channing trails off, not openly wanting to kick them out in front of so many people.

“That means no GDI’s.” C.J. didn’t even notice the miniature-sized freshman standing besides Channing. She clearly looks annoyed at the intrusion, keeping her from inside where everyone else is to deal with their little group. C.J. briefly wonders if the upturned stare is a requirement for Rho Xi or if that’s was just especially reserved for her.

“Geed’s?” Alexi repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Goddamn independents. Y’know, not greek-affiliated.” At this point, C.J. is ready to call the whole night and retire in her bed when she see’s someone appear in between Channing.

“They’re cool, Chan. They’re with me.” Micayla Zhao enters, covered in glitter, sweat and what C.J. is almost sure to be a line of salt from a body shot. C.J. has always considered Micayla the only cool Rho Xi, having had multiple classes with her over the years. Micayla fit right in with their group: smart, beautiful and a wicked sense of humor.

Channing nods, seeming bored and just wanting to get back inside with everyone else. She does a quick finger tap with Micayla (sacred Rho Xi bullshit is what Alexi always calls it) and moving along the line.

“Are your sisters always that charming?” Micayla rolls her eyes, grabbing C.J. to move them through the house to the backyard. A huge bonfire is set up in the middle with a canopy near by for the designated drinking spot. She watches as Micayla confidently moves through the crowd, stopping from time to time to say hey to friends and classmates on the way.

“Most of the time. Look, they’re just possessive over tradition and the Rho-Theta party has always been major exclusive, Channing’s been fighting to make it open to outsiders.” Micayla yells over the thumping bass.

“Yeah, I’m sure they love all the GDI’s.” C.J. exaggerates her voice, pinching her nose to capture the nasally, valley accent Channing is almost famous for. Micayla stops, and had C.J. not been paying attention, she would’ve ran into her.

“Dude, you’re kind of being a bitch right now. Look, I get your bummed about your internship, but Channing wouldn't have let you in if she didn't want to. Would you rather be getting drunk, in your apartment alone?”

“Yeah, actually.” Micayla stares at C.J. for a second, looking like she’s about to bitch her out. As if Alexi can sense the fight forming, she grabs Micayla by the arm.

“Let’s go get a drink, you look like you need a drink in you.” They both walk towards the house, Alexi mouthing ‘Be Nice’ over her shoulder before disappearing completely. C.J. exhales, counting to 3 in her head before walking over to where drinks are set up.She fills up her solo cup, watching as the fizzy liquid moves closer and closer to the top. Before she can take a sip, someone bumps into her spilling half the drink over the side.

“Hey, watch it!” A thick Jersey accent exclaims, and C.J. groans, wondering if this night could get any worse.

“Bennett?”

Grayson appears in front of her, denim jacket over a black t-shirt and black jeans. She takes note of the dark spot growing on the front of his shirt, from where she spilt her drink.

“What’re you doing here?”

She simply shrugs, refilling the missing contents of her cup.“I didn’t know parties were your scene. I always imagined in your free time you’re in like a dark room, crying alone to Sylvia Plath novels.”

“Nice to know you think of me out of class, Grayson” C.J. takes a sip of her beer. She moves to walk away, hoping he would take it as an end of conversation.

"How'd you get in? Isn't this like Rho's only?" He asks, following her to the edge of the bonfire. She looks at him, watching as the light frames the features of his face.

"Couldn't I say the same about you? You're not a Theta." He just stares at her intensely until she relents, "Micayla Zhao got me in. Y'know her?"

"We had history together sophomore year. She helped me cheat on the midterms."

C.J. laughs shortly. "Sounds like her."

Grayson opens his mouth to speak again, but is cut off.

“As much as I’m enjoying this conversation, Grayson, don’t you have someone else to bother? Someone who, y’know, actually likes you?” If that comment bothered him, he didn’t show it, continuing talking to her as if they haven’t pissed each other off continuously for the past four years.

“What do you think about Michael Eichler getting the internship spot?” He asks. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she didn’t get the spot, now she has to sit and rub salt in the wound with her worst enemy.

“What’s there to think about? He got it, I didn’t. Fucking sucks.” He laughs, holding up his own drink.

“Cheers to that.” They both clink cups, and C.J. briefly wonders if the universe is still laughing at her.

"You know, that spot should've gone to one of us." He muses, watching the partygoers continue to stumble around them. He doesn't say anything after that, and she bites.

"Why should it have gone to one of us?"

"Well, think about it. We're both the top of our class, and I know for a fact Stevens has submitted your writing to collegiate magazines. There's no fucking way Michael fucking Eichler should've got that spot over one of us." C.J. pauses. She had known that Stevens appreciated her writing, but not enough to submit it anywhere. If what Grayson was saying was true, why hadn't she gotten the apprenticeship?

"Nothing I can really do about it now. He got the spot, I didn't. I guess I can become a second rate author now." She takes another sip, and Grayson snorts unattractively.

"I'm sure you'll be okay, Bennett. If Stevens like you, I'm sure there's another author dumb enough to want to publish your work too." She glares at him.

"And here I thought we were becoming friends."

"As if you actually would've wanted to become friends with me."

"Oh yeah, that's what I do in between my Sylvia Plath crying sessions. Desperately wish that Grayson Dolan would become my best friend." Sarcasm drips off every word and he looks at her before taking another long sip of his drink.

“You know you’re actually kinda cool, Bennett. When you’re not trying to bite my head off in the middle of lecture”

“Maybe if you didn’t have such shitty takes, I wouldn’t want too.” Whatever retort Grayson was planning falls from his lips when Channing appears by his side, tucking herself underneath his arm.

"Hey, Gray. I got you another drink." Two Coronas hang from her manicured hand, and he whispers inaudibly to her, giggling between the two of them. C.J. begins to feel awkward, and coughs uncomfortably.

“Oh, you’re the GDI from earlier,” Channing looks up at her half-lidded, dark eyelashes framing red-tinged brown eyes.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Channing shifts her weight, biting her lip and feeling like an intruder. "I didn't know you two knew each other?" C.J. supplies, feeling desperate for conversation

"Gray and I had math together freshman year, "They both stare at each other awkwardly, silent tension as they wait for the other to speak.

“So, I’m gonna go." She speaks.

“No, you don’t have to." Channing is already turned back to Grayson, looking like she wouldn't mind C.J.'s exit.

“No it’s fine” Neither Grayson nor Channing seem to protest anymore, and C.J. turns back to see her friends looking at her, both amused and curious at her interaction with the duo. She begins to walk towards them, feet and heart sinking with every step, not feeling any better about her current predicament.

“Hey Bennett,” She turns around to face Grayson. “Think about what I said. About the internship stuff” She just nods, and leaves the pair. The moment she reaches her initial group, Alexi pulls her towards them.

“You and Dolan were just talking and it didn't end in a screaming match. That’s new. What did he want?”

“Nothing. Just typical Grayson Dolan bullshit."Alexi looks like she doesn't believe her, and frankly C.J. doesn't believe herself. She thinks back to what Grayson said, about how they were the only real competition for the apprenticeship. Whatever he meant by that could be handled tomorrow.

"C’mon. Didn’t you say something earlier today about tequila shots?” She asks

“Atta, girl. That’s what I’m talking about.” She lets Alexi drag her away, sparing one last look at Grayson before entering the fraternity house.

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan series #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan x y/n #dolan twins #dolan twins series #dolan twins smut #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins fluff #dolan twins angst #dolan twins x reader #dolan twins x y/n

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bluesylveon2 · 3 years

Text

My My, I Could Never Let You Go

Summary: Sasha Zoe just wants her dad to walk her down the aisle. There is only one problem: she doesn’t know who her dad is! Sasha invites 3 men in hopes of finding out which one is her father. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairings: Levi x Hange, Sasha x Niccolo, and other background relationships

Disclaimer: This is a Levihan Mamma Mia au. This fanfic is inspired by Mamma Mia which is directed by Phyllida Loyd, written by Catherine Johnson, and uses music from the pop group ABBA. Attack on Titan is a manga/anime series written by Hajime Isayama and published by Kondasha

A/N: Sorry for the wait! Next chapter might take a while. I have finals starting next week and then I’ll be done soon! 😁 Now back to our regularly schedules programming...

***** - listen to Super Trooper here (go to 0;07) to get an idea of the scene.

Need to catch up? Catch up here!

Ch 9: Super Trooper

Sasha dances on top of the table to her heart's content. She dances along to the song Moblit plays while her friends, now in party clothes, were hyping her up below.

As the song ends (ironically, it was the same song the guys sang to her earlier. She is a big ABBA fan), Sasha lets herself go and falls back so her friends can catch her. She laughs with glee as her friends cheer for her performance.

Sasha's bachelorette party was held in the hotel's courtyard. There was some space for dancing and a bar to get drinks. Of course, no boys were allowed except for Moblit. Hange had approved for Moblit to be the DJ for the night. He only agreed to it just as long as Sasha's friends did not force him to become a male stripper.

Hange and her band were preparing behind the stained glasses French doors for their big performance. This performance was a callback to their old days when she and her girls used to perform together. They had even dressed the part!

Sasha's friends set her back down on the ground safely as Moblit taps his mic to get everyone's attention.

"Ladies and no gentlemen! Except for me, of course." Moblit gestures to himself before continuing.

"Presenting for one night and one night only-" he gestures to the French doors, so the girls can take their attention off of him.

"Because that's all we got breath for!" Nanaba yells from behind the door. Everyone laughs.

"The world's first girl power band," Rico yells out from behind the door with excitement to hype the crowd. Some smoke starts to appear behind the doors.

Sasha screams with excitement and shakes Mikasa, who was the closest to her.

"Hange and the Survey Corps!"

Moblit plays the piano as Hange, Rico, and Nanaba enter in their 70's-inspired outfits. It looks just like the ones they used to wear from the old pictures Sasha saw of her mom's room. Meanwhile, the bachelorette party squeal with excitement as Hange's band takes position. Hange was front and center, Nanaba was to her left, and Rico was to her right.

Hange taps the beat with one of her block-heeled boots on the stage. All three members of the Survey Corps raise their left arm to point up to the sky, look up at the night sky, and begin to sing the first line.

Super Trouper lights are gonna find me.

But I won't feel blue.

Sasha and her friends laugh at how ridiculous her mom and her aunts sounded without the accompaniment.

Like I always do

'Cause somewhere in the crowd, there's you

Hange looks away to glance at Sasha and gave her a quick wink.

Sasha looks at her mother expectantly and with amusement. There was an awkward silence as no music played, and Hange's band was still in position.

Hange, noticing the silence, looks away to look at Moblit. She motions for him to play the song.

Moblit, realizing his mistake, presses the button on the speaker to start the performance. The melody to Super Trooper begins to play. Sasha and her friend cheer as Hange get back to position, so the band can go to their signature pose.

*****

She raises her hand up and looks up at the sky. Rico turns around, so her back faced Hange. She leans back a bit and raises her microphone up to her lips to pretend she was singing. Nanaba copies Rico's position, except she faces the opposite direction; her back was facing Hange.

Hange brings her arm down as she sings. Rico and Nanaba face the crowd and move to stand next to Hange. All three of them begin to sway and move their arms to the beat.

Sasha and her friends laugh and clap along to the performance. Occasionally, Rico and Nanab would sing along to add harmony and more vocals.

The trio then raises their right arm to the sky and brings it back down to briefly touch their heads. Rico and Nanaba move to face Hange as they sing along. Hange would also turn to face her best friends one at a time to make it look as though she was singing to them. Eventually, the trio stands in front of one another, leans back slightly, and moves their left arm back while holding out the note before literally jumping into the refrain.

---

"Are you sure this is where Gelgar said Sasha's bachelorette party is going to be?" Erwin asks with a hint of uncertainty.

Mike laughs a bit, but it could have been drowned out by the music and the cheering nearby. Who knows if the guys would be able to hear each other the closer they got.

"Of course. Sasha is pretty famous on the island, so word gets around easily. Plus, she practically invited the whole island."

"Yeah. Sasha practically invited all the girls on the island." Levi adds with a hint of annoyance. He can hear the singing nearby and can recognize her voice anywhere. It reminded him of the times she used to sing to him. Hange's voice would help him fall asleep.

"Relax, Levi," Mike says reassuringly as they climb up the steps to the plaza. "Sasha would be happy to see her dads at her bachelorette party!"

They stop at the very top step and watch Hange's performance.

"Hey, look at them go! It seems her friends never lost their talent either, especially Nanaba!"

Levi looks at Mike and raises an eyebrow. "You know them?"

Mike laughs. "Of course I do. I met all three of them together," he says with amazement as he watches the performance.

"It seems as if Hange never lost her singing talent after all."

Levi glares at Erwin, who stood behind him. Erwin, noticing Levi's glare, chuckles now that his uncertainness is fading away. It was as if he could read Levi's mind.

It seems that Hange's singing has started to calm him down enough to laugh at how silly Levi looked.

"Sometimes Hange would sing while I played the guitar. This song is actually our song." Erwin says without breaking his gaze from Hange singing and smiles.

"It does bring me back." He adds with sincerity.

Levi's heart skips a beat as he heard Hange sing. It was a lot different from earlier when he heard it from a distance. It was in person this time. Levi can even see the big smile and the bright eyes Hange had as she sang. It reminded him of the times he would fall asleep on her lap as she sang to him and played with his hair.

Call him a lovestruck fool, but Levi always slept better every time Hange sang to him.

Heck, Levi could even say with 100% certainty that he was falling for her all over again.

---

Hange continues singing and dancing with her friends. She has not had this much fun in a long time, and she can tell from Sasha's face that she was enjoying it too. In fact, Hange was having too much fun to notice Levi, Erwin, and Mike approach the plaza.

She dances to the song's beat while adding some arm movements and stomped her boots to create an effect. Sasha and her friends cheer from below.

Like I always do.

Hange places her hand on her forehead and scans the crowd.

Cause somewhere in the crowd, there's you.

It was only for a brief second, but her light brown eyes met with Levi's steel gray ones.

Hange's eyes widen with shock and a little bit of hurt. He was not alone! Erwin and Mike were with him too!

Nevertheless, Hange steps forward to sing her solo while trying her best to look normal. She did not want to freak out on stage and have Sasha meet her dads. She glances over at Levi, praying it was a dream.

It was not. Levi was still there.

This time he was smiling.

Great. Just great.

Hange ends her solo with a silly dance to bring up her excitement and keep Sashas's attention solely on her. The crowd loved it! She steps back to join her band.

The Survey Corps sing the refrain while pointing towards the sky in front of them, bringing their arms down and repeating the process all over again. They stop in the middle of the refrain, and Hange glances over at Levi again.

They were still there!

She scoots close to Rico and subtle grabs her arm before doing the same with Nanaba and brought them close to her.

"Look, look, look, look," she says while pointing her head towards the men off to the side. She then spins around so Rico and Nanaba could see who she was looking at. The song continued to play in the background.

Oh no! Nanaba looks at the men in shock.

Why are they here at the party? Rico questions.

Rico briefly places her microphone away from her mouth. "Stay calm," she whispers loudly enough to get Hange to hear.

Nanaba imitates Rico after Rico goes back to performing. "Act normal," she whispers as well.

Both of them tried their best not to speak loud enough for both of their mics to pick up.

Meanwhile, Erwin was smiling at the performance, Mike was dancing a bit to the song, and Levi even was dancing a bit too. Just not as much as Mike.

Hange glances over at Moblit before getting back into position with the girls. Moblit, noticing the distressed look on Hange's face the entire time, turns to where she has been looking at this whole time. It did not take long for him to figure out who the three men dancing in the corner were. He had heard enough stories and helped comfort Hange when she was sobbing alone in her room to know who was who. It was a secret between the two, and Moblit was ready to take Hange's secret to his grave.

They stick their hand out to make a one and move their head in the 1 position on a clock before repeating the refrain. They move in a circle on the stage, stop to look at each other briefly, and place their hands in the center before moving it up together.

Hange made sure to step up in the front and give Sasha all of her attention as she sings the song's last note. Rico and Nanaba sang the rest in the background before giving their final pose.

Everyone in the audience cheers for the performance, even the guys who everyone could hear cheering loudly from the back.

"Excuse me!" Moblit's voice comes on from his spot next to the stage. Hange and her friends head back inside to get changed. "This is a bachelorette party except for me. Moblit. Thank you!" he finishes before changing the song.

"That's the asshole," Levi whispers to himself without thinking about it and glares at Moblit.

Erwin and Mike laugh at Levi. They can hear the jealousy in his voice. Levi wants what Moblit has: a life with Hange where he can watch Sasha grow up. No responsibilities or worries. Just peace.

Moblit, although he cannot hear him, feels a shiver go down his spine. He turns around to find a short, bored-looking guy glaring at him.

That must be Levi; he sweatdrops before returning to the music and praying that Levi stops glaring at him.

Levi tsks in annoyance and starts heading out. Mike and Erwin steer in a different direction towards the bar.

Sasha follows Levi out to wherever he went. Meanwhile, all the girls in Sasha's bridal party watch as Mike and Erwin head towards the bar area. They huddle up and put their heads together to create a plan.

"We need to do something before Mike and Erwin leave," Hanami panics.

"We need to think of something now," Mina adds.

Historia thinks long and hard for a solution. What is something crazy they could do without raising suspicion? Suddenly, an idea pops up in her head as she listens to the current song Moblit was playing. It was bound to work 100%.

She silently thanks Sasha's love of ABBA songs and for hosting many karaoke nights at the hotel. The girls could sing ABBA songs with their eyes closed.

She smirks and clears her voice. Everyone stops discussing to turn their full attention to Historia.

"Ladies. I have a perfect idea,"

---

"Why are they here?! Do they want to ruin Sasha's wedding?!" Hange yells out in frustration.

"I thought you were keen about this wedding," Nanaba asks in a calm tone.

Hange takes a deep breath to calm herself down. "I just don't want them to spoil it." she sighs.

"They have no right to show up like this. What have they done for Sasha? Huh?"

"Hange. They didn't know she existed." Nanaba reasons with her. They continue making their way back to Hange's room.

"Well, they didn't need to know. I did so well with Sasha all by myself, and I refuse to be muscled out by an ejaculation!"

---

Erwin and Mike were getting some drinks at the bar since Levi had mysteriously disappeared from them. They decided to stay for a bit until Levi comes back, but far away from the party. They could still hear the music, though.

Except the music was progressively getting louder, and it was not from the speakers. They can hear female voices heading in their direction.

Both men turn around to find all of Sasha's bridal party walking towards them while singing the song. The girls start running towards them the moment Erwin and Mike turn around. Different girls grab both men and start pulling them into the dance floor.

Mike was excited to be surrounded by so many girls. This was life for him. On the other hand, the feelings were not mutual for Erwin. He just wanted to get a drink! Now he is getting dragged onto the dancefloor! What a rollercoaster of a day.

Except the girls did not drag them onto the dancefloor. The girls push Erwin and Mike against a pole and surround them. They tie up the men's hands behind the pole and begin their second operation. The first operation was to locate the men and tie them up. They proceed with the second part, although Levi was absent. This part was a bit more intimate.

It was all a blur for Erein and Mike. They could not tell who exactly was feeling them up, running their hands across their chests, or even tell who was pushing up their clothes. Mike enjoyed all the attention he was receiving; Erwin was flustered and heating up.

This was definitely a strange day for everyone.

---

Sasha stops running when she finds Levi leaning against the wall, looking out at sea.

"Hi."

Levi notices Sasha's voice, leans back, and faces her. "Hey."

He clears his throat. "I think I should explain to Hange that I come in peace." he starts walking up to where Sahsa just entered from.

"Oh no." Sasha stops Levi by placing her hands out in front of him. "You should wait until she has a few drinks first, really."

Levi nods in agreement. "Good idea."

He looks around the place and thinks back on their interaction in the boat. The fact that he never came back or how Sasha was a prodigy with weapons. He chose to speak about the latter. The first topic can come up another time.

"That story about you being a natural at archery…." He trails off and looks at her dead in the eyes. Her eyes were obviously a different shade of brown, but it reminded him of Hange.

"Why don't you pursue it? You could even participate in events such as the Olympics?"

Sasha looks away nervously and raises her hands up before dropping down on her sides. She sighs.

"I have enough to do here."

"Is that really your dream? Running the villa with Hange?" Levi asks. He could recall when she first met Hange. She was a woman with huge dreams. All of it was driven by her curiosity and intelligence. Yet, it was not evident for Sasha's case.

Sasha shakes her hands out in front of her with frustration. Why wasn't Levi getting it? It was so obvious why she wanted to stay.

"She just can't do it by herself."

"But she has Moblit." Levi counters.

"She just can't. Please understand that."

Levi sighs. He was not getting through to her at all. Yet, Levi still thought back to Sasha's memory from earlier. He chuckles a bit.

"What's so funny?" Sasha asks with some curiosity. Ah, there it is. The Zoe curiosity lives on.

"You know, my uncle once taught me how to use a knife. Apparently, he worked in one of the intelligence agencies in Germany when he was young. He thought it was a necessary skill for me to have. Of course, I managed to excel in it, but my mom had a heart attack when she noticed me practicing it with my uncle. I always made sure to keep a pocket one if any situation goes south."

He walks to stand where he was initially. He turns around to face Sasha. "I even taught it to Hange before. I mean, she trusted a stranger pretty easily, but you never know if things ever go south. You have to be prepared."

He looks up at the sky and smiles at all the fond memories he had of Kalokairi.

"I always wanted to come back here…."

"What kept you from coming back?" Sasha interrupts him.

Levi looks at Sasha and gives her a sad smile. Her eyes soften up after seeing Levi becoming vulnerable in front of her.

"What has your mother said about me?"

"She never mentioned you," Sasha confesses. She watches for Levi's reaction but finds nothing.

Finally, he sighs. a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Sasha?"

"Why am I here?" He asks. He began to doubt his purpose here now that Hange wants nothing to do with him.

Sasha was ready to speak when the door from her mother's room opens suddenly, startling the two down below.

"I need some air!" they both hear Hange's voice cry out.

She immediately ran off and out of sight as if she was never there.

Levi looks up at Hange's room. His eyes linger at Hange's disappearing shadow. He felt a strange but somewhat familiar feeling in his chest.

He knew what he had to do, and he can't leave just yet.

---

Hange, Rico, and Nanaba all flop on Hange's bed in exhaustion. Nanaba was lying next to her, while Rico's boots were next to Hange's head.

"Somebody out there is out to get me. I bet it's my mother." Hange says while glaring at the roof as if it decided to bring Sasha's dads back into her life.

"Wasn't she a ray of sunshine?" Rico adds sarcastically.

Hange feels a sudden burst of determination. She needs to get them out now. She begins by attempting to untangle herself from her friends.

"Oh no, you don't!" Nanaba exclaims and pins Hange down.

"If you go in there guns loaded, there's gonna be questions," Rico says as she attempts to get up but fails. It's all because of the dang boots!

"Help me out of these boots!" she complains while lying on the bed. Hange and Nanaba make a move towards the end of the bed to help.

"All of your yoga made your feet bigger." Nanaba comments, and Rico groans in annoyance.

Suddenly, Nanaba gets serious and pulls on one of Rico's boots. "Listen up. The plan is to get all the guys drunk tonight-"

"Uh-huh," Hange says and pulls on the other boot with the same force as Nanaba.

"-and then tomorrow, Rico and I will keep them distracted."

Rico shoots up from the bed and raises her hand. "Dibs on Erwin!"

Nanaba rolls her eyes. "Of course, you would say that," she mumbles.

---

Erwin luckily manages to escape the crowd of girls by crawling under the table to escape. Sasha's bridal party had finally untied him and Mike from the poles and brought them somewhere else to dance. Erwin last saw Mike dancing on top of the table with some of the girls. He was having the time of his life.

Sasha ran back to the party just in time to see Erwin escaping from her friends.

"Hi," she sighs in relief.

"Hello," He greets back. He was still traumatized from earlier.

Sasha grabs Erwin's arm and seats Erwin at the barstool.

"You ok?" she asks as she sits down as well. Erwin's hair was a bit disheveled, his shirt was unbuttoned and untucked to reveal his chest, and he looked a bit flustered.

Erwin sighs instead. He reaches over to a nearby pitcher and pours himself a drink.

"I'm surprised Hange has a grown-up daughter." He confesses and briefly glances over at Sasha.

She leans one elbow against the bar and faces Erwin. "Do you have any children, Erwin?"

Erwin chuckles. "Well, I only have my dogs, Hiroshi and Romi. They are staying at a friend's house right now."

"I'd love to have a daughter. I'd spoil her rotten," he adds with a smile and takes a sip of his drink.

That caught Sasha off guard. She didn't expect Erwin to say that. She opens her mouth to speak but closes it instead. She imagined what life would be like if Erwin was her father. How he would spoil her, shower her with much love and attention.

Erwin notices Sasha's silence. He briefly turns around to look at the crowd before turning back to Sasha.

"Is your father here?"

"I don't know." She admits. Erwin looks at her with confusion. Surely her own father should be here for his own daughter's wedding, right?

"I don't know who my father is." she clarifies.

Erwin's eyes widen with shock. He opens his mouth to ask more questions, but one of Sasha's friends grabs her and brings her back to the dance floor. He could only watch as Sasha's figure disappears into the crowd.

---

Erwin sat with his hands covering his face. A few minutes had passed since Sasha left, and everything was beginning to come together. What if he was Sasha's father? He was too conflicted to notice the footsteps heading his way.

"Give me two tequila shots. One for me and one for this guy." he hears a female voice say. His head shoots up, ready to decline the offer but stops. Sitting down where Sasha last sat was a woman with long brown hair and blue eyes. Her hair was half up, half down, she wore a simple blouse and some shorts, and she also wore sandals on her feet.

She notices Erwin's stare and turns to him with a smile. Erwin looks away and blushes from embarrassment.

The woman laughs instead. She extends her hand out for him to shake.

"My name is Marie Fournier, and you are?"

Erwin extends his hand out to shake Marie's. "Erwin Smith."

The bartender comes back with the shots. Marie grabs her and holds it out in front of Erwin for a toast.

"Cheers." she smiles.

"Cheers," he says with a small smile. Erwin tries to hide his earlier conflict from Marie.

"So how do you know the Zoe's?" Erwin asks after the both of them drank the shot and set their glasses down on the bar."

"Well, we went to the same college and for the same major. I was more of an acquaintance with her, but we still kept in touch after I moved to Canada. I consider myself lucky that she invited me here since we weren't that close."

She looks at Erwin with a smile. Erwin was taken aback by it. There was a dormant but familiar feeling growing in his chest after seeing Marie smile at him.

"She is a nice person, though. I came here once before for vacation. She showed me around the island and even brought Sasha along too."

Erwin felt another feeling in his chest, and he slightly flinches in his seat. The shock and realization of what if Sasha was his daughter. It seems Marie does not notice any difference in Erwin.

"So how do you know Hange?"

Should he tell her the truth? Maybe a short and sweet version?

His eyes briefly glance over at the bartender walking by. He is going to need some more drinks first.

---

Hitch drags Sasha from the bar and pushes her to dance onto a table to dance with Mike.

"Hey!" Mike cheers once Sasha joins him on the fun. Both of them start dancing together.

"This is fantastic! How did your mom get money to buy this place?"

"She was left some money by an old lady she looked after before I was born," Sasha yells back with all the music and the dancing happening at the same time.

"Alexandra, that I'm named after."

He looks at her suspiciously. "My grandma Alexandra?"

"I guess?"

"I always heard she left her money to her family…" his voice trails off.

Suddenly, everything hit Mike like a tone of bricks. His grandmother, the hotel, Sasha…

He looks at Sasha, who was still dancing and smiling at him.

"How old are you?" he needed to know.

"I'm 20."

That was the final piece of the puzzle Mike was missing. He stops dancing and looks at her with shock and panic.

"Will you excuse me for a minute?" He looks around his surrounding with confusion, shock, and a bit of disappointment. It's not that he is disappointed at Sasha, but himself. What kind of dad (if he actually was) was he for missing out on 20 years of his daughter's life?

"I'm sorry," he says and leaves Sasha, who stands there with sadness flashing in her face. She was determined to get to Mike again. She runs off to chase after him.

---

"Mike!" Sasha calls after Mike, but he continues walking down the steps and towards the shore.

"Mike, wait! Why did your grandmother leave my mother money?" She asks as some tears began to fall down her face. Mike was running down the steps, and it was hard for Sasha to catch up.

"I don't know. What do you want from me?" He replies hastily without turning back and quickens his pace. Mike was too confused with everything that he decided to run away instead of confronting Sasha. Sasha can feel her heartbreaking even more now.

"Mike, please!" Mike stops moving. "All my life, there's been this huge unanswered question., and I don't want any more secrecy!" she cries out, and her voice begins to crack. She can feel tears now that began to blur her vision and some snot running down her nose.

Mike turns around to face Sasha ultimately after hearing her voice crack and the sadness in her voice. Although the only light source was moonlight, Mike could see the tears staining Sasha's face and her body shaking a bit. He felt guilty for making Sasha cry.

Sasha was ready to ask the age-old question. "Are you my father?"

"Yes. I think so." Mike says immediately. He has all the pieces to the puzzle, except he sounded unsure. He looks at Sasha's face. The same face that has Hange it in and him. He is not running away from his problems. He looks at her with determination and smiles.

"Yes," she says softly that it was almost hard to hear it.

Sasha smiles and laughs with pure joy. More tears were running down her face, but it was tears of joy and not sadness. She felt relief rush into her body because she has now found her father—the man standing in front of her, Mike Zacharias.

She smiles brightly at Mike. The smile Hange always had. "You know what comes next?"

"Oh, you're not telling me you have a twin sister, are you?" Mike asks lightheartedly.

Sasha shakes her head and laughs lightly. She steps closer to Mike.

"Will you give me away tomorrow?"

"Give you away?" Mike asks with a bit of perplex.

"No! Our secret until the wedding."

Mike laughs. He has been on many adventures all of his life, and now life presented him with a new one. He may have missed the first 20 years of Sasha's life, but he was not going to lose more. Especially with something as big as his daughter's own wedding.

Mike smiles and opens his arms out for a hug. Sasha immediately runs in and gives him the biggest hug she's ever given.

"Of course. I will do it for you." He whispers and plants a small kiss on the crown of her head. After all, giving Sasha away tomorrow is the least he could do for her.

Sasha smiles as she rests her head against Mike's chest (or more like her dad's chest). She felt a rush of emotions today from happiness, sadness, and fear. It did not matter to her now that Sasha found her dad and was not letting him go. She felt whole as the new father-daughter relationship began to form between the two. She finally has everything she could ever dream of.

Sasha was now experiencing another form of happiness. A form she was missing for 20 years.

Big father reveal!!!!! 🥳

Yeah I know Moblit is the only guy at the bacholrette party, but I needed him to do something lol

Marie is now here!

Erwin’s dogs names are the names of Levi and Hange’s Japanese VA’s

#levihan #levi x hange #levihan fanfiction #nicosasha #erwin x hange #mike x hange #mikenana #aruani #hitch x marlow #marco x mina #pokkopikku #snk #aot

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danielcooperrp · 3 years

Text

Shake the House Down

“It’s a party.”

“I know that.”

“Really? Because the way you’re pacing suggests you think you’re headed for a firing squad.”

Drew makes a face at his boyfriend, who is lounging languidly on Drew’s bed. Drew, as Xander astutely noted, is pacing a line from the door to the window, wringing his hands. “Is it a big party?”

Xander tosses a hockey puck up into the air and catches it with a nonchalance that only exacerbates Drew’s anxiety. “Delta Lambda Phi can usually pull a crowd. It’s the queer frat, so it’ll probably pull people from the other universities in town.”

There is some comfort in knowing that the party Xander wants them to go to is being thrown by a queer fraternity. When Drew thinks “frat bro,” he doesn’t exactly think of friends. And Drew grew up in queer spaces, raised by queer parents—a house full of people like him should be fine.

He stops his pacing to look at Xander. “Do you...never mind.” He starts pacing again.

“Ah ah ah.” Xander hauls himself off of the bed to stand in front of Drew. Drew is actually only an inch shorter than his boyfriend, but because Xander is so much larger, the height difference feels much more dramatic. “Talk to me, Cooper. What is your brain whizzing about?”

“Well...” Drew doesn’t meet his gaze. “Do you know a lot of people who are going to be there?”

“Uh, sure, I guess. Some people from Pride, this very funny lesbian from my microeconomics class, and a bunch of people from the frat...”

“No, I mean...you know. Exes.”

There’s a pause, and then Xander bursts out laughing. “Cooper...” Xander wraps his arms around Drew. Warmth floods Drew’s body, right down to his toes. “You are worrying for nothing. I’m excited for everyone to meet you, my very smart, very sexy, very silly boyfriend. Will some of my exes be there? Maybe. I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m there with you. If you’ll go with me.”

Drew nods into his chest. Then he looks up. “Just promise not to make out with some guy in the bathroom.”

“Mmm, no shot.” Drew’s eyebrows furrow. “I am definitely making out with at least one guy while I’m there.” Then he grins and presses his lips to Drew’s.

_____

The frat house looks like any other brownstone littering the streets of Boston, except for the ten-foot cardboard cut-out of a pop star that Drew is sure he’s supposed to know but can’t remember the name of. As they walk up, the music is pounding, and Drew instinctually wants to go apologize to the neighbors.

Xander convinced him to dress down for the evening—apparently sweaters and collared shirts are not the prescribed attire for such an affair—so Drew is in a plain white T-shirt that fits more snugly than he’s used to and a pair of dark skinny jeans. Xander’s even more relaxed in 70s-style basketball shorts and a mesh tank top. He had tried to coax Drew into something similar, but gave up when he saw the panic in Drew’s face at the sigh of hot pink boyshorts. Besides, Drew couldn’t help but notice the way Xander’s eyes and hands kept gravitating toward his butt in these jeans.

As soon as they’re inside, they’re swarmed with people, but in a rare occurrence for Drew, they’re not interested in him. Xander is being pulled in every direction by the most colorful group of drunk folks he’s ever seen.

“Is that Alexander?”

“We though you died, where have you been—”

“The boy catches a few touchdowns and it’s out with the queers—”

“—those shorts, now I know why they call you tight end—”

“—not that I’m trying to play into stereotypes, sweetie, but the sink has been dripping for days—”

Drew can barely hear the fawning over the music, so he looks around at the party. It’s wall-to-wall people with the most eclectic fashion senses ever gathered under one roof: evening gowns and body glitter and flannel and sleeve tattoos and undercuts and lots and lots of naked skin. Somehow, Xander extract himself from his welcoming committee and pulls Drew by the hand into a room with some IKEA couches and an enormous fish tank.

“Sorry about that,” he says, voice raised to compete with the music. “I have been around as much. I guess they noticed.”

“Why haven’t you been around?”

Xander fixes his gaze on Drew. “I met a guy.” Drew flushes. “Now come on, let me show you off.”

_____

Xander tours Drew around, introducing him to what feels like every queer person under 25 in Boston. He’s careful to use his first name only, for which Drew is grateful; the last thing he needs is someone making a family connection right now.

After a hour or so, they’re in the kitchen, each with a Solo cup in hand. Drew doesn’t exactly know what he’s drinking, but the taste isn’t objectionable, and he’s two cups in and feeling a little looser than usual. Xander squeezes his hand and says in his ear, “You mind if I leave you here for a minute? They really want me to take a look at their bathroom sink?”

Drew makes a face. “What did say about making out with guys in the bathroom?”

Xander grins. “Only you, Cooper.” He kisses Drew’s neck, which sends a thrill down his spine, and disappears into the crowd.

Drew drifts around the kitchen, peeking into cabinets, grabbing food off of plates that keep floating in and out of the room. He gets himself another cup of whatever alcoholic drink is in the bowl on the counter, and when he turns to walk away, someone is there, smiling at him.

“Hi.”

“Um, hi.” Drew is pretty sure that this guy, blonde with deeply tanned skin, is not one of the myriad people he’s already been introduced to. This guy is looking at Drew in a way that feels foreign.

“I’m Mark.”

“Drew.” He starts to edge away, but Mark deftly steps in front of him.

“Haven’t seen you around before.”

“Oh. I’m new. I mean, to the...fraternity...party...scene...” His ears redden in embarrassment.

“Well then, tonight’s your lucky night.” Marks takes a step forward and bends to whisper in Drew’s ear. “I’d love to show you a good time.”

Drew freezes, unsure what to do. He hates conflict with all of his being, but he doesn't know how to get out of this situation. There are people everywhere, but no one is paying attention to the quiet kid in the corner. As his eyes scan the room for a face he recognizes, he feels a hand on his butt, and his entire body jolts.

He remember something his father told him before he left for college. I want you to have fun, and I want you to discover all of the secrets of yourself. But please remember that some people are going to see how quiet you are, and they are going to think that you belong to them. I don’t care what you have to do or who you have to do it to—you have to let them know that you don’t.

The ground begins to shake beneath him, slow at first, and then more violently. His head is swimmy but he manages to shove Mark back.

“What the fuck?” Mark splutters.

The ground is shaking even more now; the bowl of whatever drink vibrates off of the counter and onto the floor. People start to scream and clamor for the exits, but no one notices Drew, hands balled into fists at his sides, staring down some douche in a tank top and jean cutoffs.

Someone barrels into the kitchen. “Cooper?” Xander pauses to take stock of the tableau before him. “Oh, fuck.” He checks marks out of the way to stand in front of Drew. “Cooper? Cooper, come on, it’s okay.” He catches Drew’s eyes. “Look at me, Hey. You gotta stop the shaking before someone gets hurt.”

Drew closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. After a minute, the earth settles into silence. Drew opens his eyes. “I’m so—”

“Hang on.” Xander whips around to glower at Mark, who shrinks back. “What the fuck are you doing here? I thought everyone made it clear that you weren’t gonna set foot in this building after what you did last spring.”

Mark feigns boldness with a scoff. “Whatever. Take your mutant boy, I don’t want any part of that shit.”

Xander takes a threatening step forward and Mark scurries off. Then he turns back to Drew. “What did he—”

“Nothing. That was stupid. I was stupid.” He feels like he could sleep for days.

“Mark is a creep who likes trolling parties for freshman boys. Delta Lambda Phi banned him a long time ago, but...Drew, I’m so sorry.”

Drew shakes his head. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Xander looks like he wants to argue, but he puts an arm around Drew’s shoulder and pulls him in close. “Come on, let’s get you home.” He steers him toward the back door, where he fewer people had run out.

“I’m sorry for ruining the party,” Drew mumbles, eyes sliding shut.

A pair of lips press into the crown of his head. “You could never ruin anything, Drew.”

#v1 #drabble #drew #xander #this is all i do now #i just write drabbles of drew and xander

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monkberries · 3 years

Note

They dealt with all of the above. Ringo was treated as a joke for pretty much everything, especially since this was the era of prog rock. His personal life was also tabloid fodder. George was derided as being a dour spiritual nut who was out of touch. He along w/ Ringo didn't get the respect he deserved as a guitarist bc his style wasn't in at the time & people knew little about his role in The Beatles. All credit went to Lennon/McCartney. 1/2

John had the benefit of having the rebel genius image, but even he became a source of ridicule with all the stunts he pulled with Yoko and the way his career declined after Imagine. He wasn't deified to the degree he was in the 80s. I'm not trying to say Paul never had a hard time, but the way this fandom talks as if he is the only one who faced extreme criticism or disrespect just tells me they haven't looked much into the other Beatles' lives. The man is more admired than most musicians. 2/2

(IDK if this screenshotted anons were from the same person or not, but I’ll just answer them in this one since it’s all the same subject.)

Here’s what I think is valid, as I see it: Paul fans are upset by the way his music was treated by the music press, especially in the first few years of the 70s, while the music of the other three were generally given at least the benefit of the doubt. They’re not upset about the tabloid gossip, the purely personal stuff – they are upset, specifically and with good reason, at the way Paul’s music was treated and the way the music world’s personal dislike of him seeped into their music reviews. I’m gonna focus in on 1970 through the end of 1974, since this is where a lot of the complaints spawn from, and things start to shift in a big way in 74. You didn’t ask but contemporary writings about their early solo music is something I’m fascinated by anyway and you turned the wind-up toy key in my back, so. Off I go. This is gonna be so, so long.

At different points in the decade, all of them were subject to a sullying of their personal reputations. That is where I do agree with you: all of them were subjected to that by the press, to varying degrees, at varying times, and for various reasons for each of them. That is just what happens to public figures the longer they are public figures. Tabloids mess with everyone no matter how beloved they are.

However, that’s not what I generally see Paul fans getting upset about. What I see is that they’re upset at the way the much more legitimate and widely respected music press approached Paul’s music and talent in general. It is widely received knowledge now that the critics treated Paul’s music differently than they did John’s and George’s and even Ringo’s; the trashing was not “equal.” They came at John and George with the assumption that their talent was real and ongoing outside of the Beatles, their genius unquestionable, their motives pure and well-intentioned and honest. Paul was not afforded these assumptions. Some examples to show what I mean, most of them found through wikipedia, rocksbackpages, or rollingstone.com.

John

Plastic Ono Band was Robert Christgau’s number one album of 1970 in The Village Voice. from Creem’s review: “John's record, of course, has been righteously raved over ever since its release, justifiably. It's interesting and even enlightening to see a man working out his trauma on black plastic but more than that, it's totally enthralling to see that Lennon has once again unified, to some degree, his life and his music into a truly whole statement.” From High Fidelity’s review: "a tremendously exciting listening experience, perhaps the best any Beatle has ever offered." In their Imagine review, Rolling Stone called POB “perfect.” A couple reviews in the mainstream were more mixed, put off a little by the rawness of it, but overall the rock world quickly grew to see this album as a work of genius.

Imagine was even more widely well-reviewed, despite a mixed review from Rolling Stone (John fell out with Jann Wenner around this time, curiously). Here’s a passage from rateyourmusic.com: “Imagine was actually one of the most critically acclaimed albums of the year, aside from this tepid review in Rolling Stone. Indeed, much of the rock press seemed palpably relieved that the former Beatle hadn't gone completely off the deep end. ‘It's the best album of the year, and for me it's the best album he's done, with anything, or with anyone, at any time,’ Roy Hollingworth wrote in the 10/9/71 issue of Melody Maker. ‘The album is superb,’ Alan Smith agreed in the 9/11/71 issue of NME. ‘Beautiful. One step away from the chill of his recent total self-revelation, and yet a giant leap towards commerciality without compromise...I have no criticism at all.’”

Some Time in New York City was admittedly John’s nadir, and the press was vicious about it, both personally and musically, deeming the album egotistical, lacking in energy, and devoid of sincerity. However, many maintained a reverence for the genius that came before it and hopeful encouragement for the future. Rolling Stone said that “The Lennons should be commended for their daring;” Creem said it wasn’t half bad; and even though NME’s article was scathing, it ended with a plea for John to return to form, saying, “Don't rely on cant and rigidity. Don't alienate. Stimulate. You know, like you used to.”

Mind Games, though reviews were mixed, fared far better in comparison. Again, there is a hopeful tone to the reviews, a sureness that John can do better. From Rolling Stone talks about the music being a return to POB form, but the writing is his worst yet; however, Landau qualifies this by saying the lyrics aren’t “offensive, per se, just misguided... [John Lennon’s admirers] might even be able to withstand something more challenging” and then praises John’s voice, his production, and a few individual songs. In Melody Maker, Ray Coleman says, “if you warm to the rasping voice of Lennon and, like me, regard him as the true fulcrum of much of what came from his old group, then like any new Lennon album, it will be enjoyable and even important.” Christgau is more middling but also says, “Still, the single works, and let's hope he keeps right on stepping.”

Walls and Bridges seems confusing to reviewers in retrospect. They couldn’t seem to come to a consensus on it. The musicianship was widely praised, for the most part, though Rolling Stone criticized the first side on this front; reviewers alternately said it was “the latest chapter in John Lennon’s Identity Crisis” (Creem) and “truly a superb album by any standards” (Melody Maker). Throughout the Rolling Stone review, the author is able to thoroughly critique the songs, for better or worse, with a neutral affect and without resorting to insulting John personally. He ends the review on a positive note: “When one accepts one’s childhood, one’s parenthood and the impermanence which lies between, one can begin to slog along. When John slogs, he makes progress.” Again, even though the reviews aren’t all positive, we can see, especially and most importantly in the most influential rock magazine of the time, the acknowledgment of his talent, a sense of excitement for what John will do next, and a belief that his work is authentic and honest.

George

All Things Must Pass, I mean. Apart from a couple of outliers like Christgau in The Village Voice (he called it “overblown fatuity”), it was incredibly, almost universally beloved by the music press when it came out. There was quite a bit of surprise that such a talent had been under everyone’s noses all this time, but I don’t think anon is quite correct that all the credit for the Beatles went to Lennon/McCartney. For example, Ben Gerson in Rolling Stone recognized George’s talent within the Beatles like this: “Up until now, George has been perhaps the premier studio musician among rock band guitarists. From the electronic whine which began “I Feel Fine” to the break in “Hard Day’s Night” to the crazed, sitar-influenced burst on “Taxman,” George exhibited an avant-garde imagination and a technical flawlessness, as well as the ability to stay within the bounds of a song, which has remained unparalleled.” In Melody Maker, the feeling of journalists was summed up thusly: hearing the album was “the rock equivalent of the shock felt by pre-war moviegoers when Garbo first opened her mouth in a talkie: Garbo talks! – Harrison is free!" The personal nature and honesty of the lyrics were praised as well; Time described it as an “expressive, classically executed personal statement.” Ben Gerson did call his proselytizing offensive, but in the next sentence says that George redeems himself from that with the personal plea in Hear Me Lord.

Concert for Bangla Desh - again, some cynicism from Christgau in The Village Voice (must have woke up on the wrong side of the bed that day) and of course tax issues dogged it later, but overall, for the rock press at the time, this was a crowning achievement that George pulled off. He was praised all over the press, countercultural and mainstream, for his live musical talent, the group of musicians that joined him, the lack of political motivation, the sincerity and goodwill, and George’s ability to bring back "a brief incandescent revival of all that was best about the Sixties" (Rolling Stone). To this day he is credited with creating the model for future charity concerts.

Living in the Material World - Nothing could have topped the one-two punch of ATMP and the Concert for Bangla Desh, but honestly, LITMW came pretty close for some journalists. Rolling Stone again praised George’s honesty and authenticity: “ Despite the occasional use of “psychedelic puns,” Harrison’s lyrics are so guileless they convey an extraordinary sincerity that transcends questions of craftsmanship. Similarly, the devotions we are called upon to share with Harrison, though they communicate no specific, private torment, do have the authenticity of overheard prayers and are therefore sacred.” Melody Maker said, "Harrison has always struck me before as simply a writer of very classy pop songs; now he stands as something more than an entertainer. Now he's being honest." The pushback against his pious attitude and lyrics picked up some steam with this album, particularly with Christgau (again) and Tony Tyler of NME, who called it “so damn holy I could scream.” However, it was far from the consensus opinion at the time, and with the biggest rock magazine in the world at your back, you can withstand quite a bit.

Dark Horse, oof. That poor man. It did get some positivity in Billboard and Melody Maker, but my god, the reviews for this album and its subsequent tour were so cruel. I suspect when these anon(s) talk about the others being treated terribly by the press as well, this, along with John’s STINYC, is one of the examples they would give, and they’re not wrong about that. This was the point where George’s piety and what they perceived as a sanctimonious attitude finally started really getting to everyone, and the album plus the tour was the perfect opportunity to dogpile on him. I guess it was to be expected; no one can ride that high forever, and the press loves to knock people over and kick them while they’re down. Rolling Stone called it “disastrous,” “shoddy,” and called his guitar work “rudimentary,” eventually declaring that George had “never been a great artist.” This from the same magazine that was practically worshipping at his feet the year before. Yowch.

Ringo

Sentimental Journey - The less that’s said about this album, the better.

Beaucoups of Blues was actually quite well-received. No one called him a genius for it, and it wasn’t a serious personal record and therefore wasn’t treated that way, but journalists seemed uniquely able to let themselves enjoy this record despite the serious/political/personal tone of most musicians at the time. Melody Maker believed Ringo had "conviction and charm" and that because of that, the album stripped away the serious “hip posturing” and let you just enjoy the music on its own terms. The Village Voice said that Ringo was “good at making himself felt.” Although Rolling Stone’s tone was a bit more cruel than other magazines (there was a crack somewhere in there that Ringo wasn’t as smart as John), it also called him lovable and the record “a real winner” where the songs “sound terrific.”

Ringo was a total smash and I think people forget this. It’s remembered only because it’s an album that was worked on by all four Beatles, but actually, the critics fuckin loved it. Ringo was praised in Rolling Stone for his unpretentiousness, sensibility, and essentially collaborative nature: “Ringo was always the figure of conciliation within the Beatles, undoubtedly the most genial, conceivably the most sensible, and the one with the smallest musical axe to grind. His very lapses bespoke the esteem in which the others held him; had they not liked him so much, those perfectionists would never have allowed him to sing. Perhaps because as the drummer he stood outside the process of creation, he had the best perspective from which to see the Beatles as a unity. Ringo has never had any pretense of self-sufficiency. Once he had gotten his special projects out of the way (projects for which John, Paul and George's talents would have been unsuited anyway) Ringo was ready to call upon the three most obvious people to assist him with writing, singing and playing. As Starr's first "pop album," Ringo signifies a homecoming, not just of family, but in musical style as well.”

Goodnight Vienna was kind of a minor album for Ringo, but still, reviews were pretty good. Rolling Stone praised his “unalloyed sincerity which is his trademark and trump card.” Yet again, we see the theme of authenticity popping up in these reviews - if you are perceived as authentic, honest, and sincere, that takes you a long way with music reviewers in this time period, and Ringo was nothing if not wholly, completely himself.

Paul

McCartney - One of the main complaints of Paul fans is that Jann Wenner forced Langdon Winner, the author of the review for this album in Rolling Stone, to rewrite his article and put a more negative spin on it. The result is that Winner praised most of the music but totally undermined his own praise by questioning the authenticity of the tone and deriding the press release that came with the album as much as he praised the music. He ends the article like this: “I like McCartney very much. But I remember that the people of Troy also liked that wooden horse they wheeled through their gates until they discovered that it was hollow inside and full of hostile warriors.” This was a huge blow at a time when personal authenticity and substance were considered paramount. Melody Maker also questioned the legitimacy of his genius, saying “With this record, [McCartney's] debt to George Martin becomes increasingly clear.” Most other reviews weren’t any better.

Ram, I mean, Jesus Christ the reviews for this. It’s a widely respected album now, even made the RS top 500 albums of all time list last year, but at the time people were still so angry with Paul for supposedly breaking up the Beatles that they were still taking it out on his music a year later (imo). Landau in Rolling Stone called it “emotionally vacuous” and said it lacked conviction, saying also that it was “so incredibly inconsequential and so monumentally irrelevant you can’t even [hate it]; it is difficult to concentrate on, let alone dislike or even hate.” NME called it “the worst thing Paul McCartney has ever done.” Threaded through these reviews is a belief that the songs are devoid of meaning and that Paul’s happy domestic front is just a frustrating lie; Christgau in The Village Voice said he was “infuriated by the McCartneys' modern young-marrieds image” - infuriated because he clearly doesn’t believe it, rendering Paul dishonest and his music inauthentic. Once again journalists are unable to review Paul’s music without sniping about him as a person.

Wild Life - Though the situation remains largely the same - reviewers refuse to take him seriously, believe anything he says, or treat his musical talent as anything but vacuous fluff - the reviews aren’t quite as bad as they were for Ram and a bit of positivity begins to stir. It’s evident especially in the Rolling Stone review, where Mendelsohn wonders if Paul is making crappy fluff on purpose to piss John off because it will sell just as well anyway. It’s not much, and on top of the fairly strong criticism there is almost no hope for future Paul releases: “My own conviction is that we'd be foolish to expect anything much more earth-shaking than Wild Life out of McCartney for a good long while... In the meantime the reader is advised to either develop a fondness for vacuous but unpretentious pop music or look elsewhere for musical pleasure.” But it’s something.

Red Rose Speedway Paul continues to be lambasted by a lot of the press on this album for being lightweight and having no meaning behind his songs (at this point it’s just repetitive to quote the articles, just trust me that they say basically the same thing they were saying for the past three albums too), BUT I think a nuance that gets forgotten in all of this is that Rolling Stone gave it kind of a decent review. It seems like they finally quit gatekeeping and realized that songs don’t need to have some deep personal meaning to be good. Kaye is still not very nice about Paul’s lyrics but he recognizes that he doesn’t have to take Paul’s music on the same terms as he takes John and George. Paul’s music is less personal, but that doesn’t make it unworthy. He calls it “pleasant, accessible without concentration” and praises Paul’s voice and arranging skills. It feels like for this album, Rolling Stone took the stick out of its own ass when it came to Paul and finally relaxed enough to receive Paul’s music on his terms rather than theirs. Which, imo, primed the rock world for...

Band on the Run, Paul’s comeback. Even though Christgau in The Village Voice remained unconvinced (he called it “a pleasant piece of hackwork”), almost everyone else adored it. It seems weird to us now, but the general sentiment seemed to be that people were surprised by how good this album was. NME said, “The ex-Beatle least likely to re-establish his credibility and lead the field has pulled it off with a positive master-stroke”; and although Landau’s review in Rolling Stone overflowed with praise, he also said, “I'm surprised I like Band on the Run so much more than McCartney's other solo albums because, superficially, it doesn't seem so different from them.”

I hope I’ve been able to demonstrate a general trajectory with the musical reputation of each Beatle here. John starts off on two incredible high points, crashes and burns, and then works his way back up. He DEFINITELY missed with STINYC, but even when he followed it up with Mind Games, there was still a hopeful tone to the reviews, sort of like, “Ah, well, the last two weren’t great but we’re still looking forward to what John will give us next.” Until the Dark Horse tour/album, which did sour the press on poor George, the music press adored him. It was hit after hit with him. He could not miss. Three high points, one after the other, then a monumental crash. Ringo seems to stay fairly high, even if the records aren’t serious records. All three of them start out incredibly well, and the music press was able and willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Paul was given none of that. Perhaps because he was out of step with the attitudes about music at the time, perhaps because journalists hated him for breaking up the Beatles, perhaps because they believed John when he painted Paul as “establishment,” perhaps a combination - whatever their issue was, Paul was given no benefit of the doubt to start with, no faith in his genius, and no belief in his authenticity. He was just a hack to the music press for the first few years of the 70s; he started at the bottom and was forced to work his way up, unlike the other three. It started, imo, when Wenner forced the journalist who wrote the McCartney review in RS to rewrite the article, and it spiraled from there. He was seen as hollow and uncool, as one of the anons said, “straight” in the parlance of the time - straight meaning “establishment.” This is kind of where I do start to roll my eyes a little bit at stans, when they get upset at people calling him “establishment” and trying to prove that actually he was so anti-establishment that people couldn’t handle it or whatever, without trying to understand what the word “anti-establishment” meant at the time. But there are also really substantive arguments you can make that say Paul’s music was not taken seriously because of a personal grudge against him.

I’m not saying that all of them didn’t have run-ins with the music press. I’m saying there is nuance here that I don’t think these anons are allowing for in the first few years of that decade. They came at George and John and Ringo with a positive, or at least neutral, slant most of the time. They came at Paul with a negative one. Case in point are the reviews of Band on the Run that were surprised at how good it was. That stuff gets people’s hackles up. The others didn’t have positive reviews rewritten to be more negative. The others didn’t have albums savaged that are now on the Rolling Stone top 500 albums of all time list. I do agree that John, at least, and George post Dark Horse, had a harder time with the music press than people generally remember or care to think about – deification is retroactive, I guess, and as Paul fans we should definitely recognize that Paul wasn’t the only one who went through a rough time with the press. But I do think Paul’s situation was made uniquely and unjustifiably difficult for those first few years.

I mean, at the same time, I cannot stress enough how much this did not affect his bottom line. Despite the horrible reviews, Ram still made a ton of money, McCartney made a ton of money, Band on the Run and Wild Life and Red Rose Speedway all made a ton of money. He had a fanbase, a huge one, that followed him loyally and faithfully through the early 70s as he was getting savaged by the press, and through the middle and late 70s when he was touring. At some point, you have to step back and go, wait. Why does any of this matter? This was 50 years ago. He was a multi-millionaire then and is a billionaire now. And you are right; whenever people over-generalize and try to make the case that Paul was always badly reviewed and the others were press darlings, I tend to get annoyed because they’re totally missing the actually interesting nuances of the situation (that can be easily found online! I found most of the music reviews through snippets on Wikipedia!) In conclusion, I guess my point is that both “Paul was vilified while everyone else wasn’t” and “everyone was equally vilified” paint the events of the early 70s with brushes that are too broad and miss the nuance that was evident in the way the press interacted with their music.

#Anonymous #macca #johnny #geo #ritchie #fab four #sorry this isn't so much a response to anon's points as it is me going off on research tangents and accidentally writing a masters thesis #reading old rolling stone album reviews is such an unexpected pleasure i recommend it

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hldailyupdate · 3 years

Text

Playtime With Harry Styles

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and—well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

“There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something”

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

Styles cuts a cool figure in this black-white-and-red-all-over checked coat by JW Anderson.

“It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence,” says Olivia Wilde

There are references aplenty in this look by Harris Reed, which features a Victoriana crinoline, 1980s shoulders, and pants of zoot-suit proportions.

#harry styles #harry update #article #vogue #november 2020

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