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imaginesforjohnnydepp · 3 years

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Violette Pt. 4

@kittenlittle24 @evelynrosestuff

Johnny was glad that he took up Violette on her offer because he had to get out of Los Angeles; Violette was a gracious host and they fell back in sync with each other. While she was at work, he took the opportunity to explore the area to find souvenirs for his kids and check up on them, other times he’d go through Violette’s books and movies and photo albums, which were his favorite things to do. The albums were completely filled up with pictures. There were pictures of her at weddings, work related parties, vacation pictures (lots of them), newspaper clippings of her accomplishments. It made him happy knowing that Violette became so successful and is well respected, because she deserves it.

When he heard the keys at the door, he quickly closed the book and turned up the volume on an episode of Chopped just as Violette walked in, shaking water off her umbrella and putting it in the stand. “Sorry I’m late! I was held up with paperwork then there was a wreck, but on the plus side I got Italian!” It was nearly eight thirty when they sat down to eat, the both of them digging into their shrimp pasta as they filled each other in on their day. Since it was Friday and Violet didn’t have to be at work the next day, they watched TV together after dinner, the living room dark except for a lamp on a low setting. It was halfway through a second episode of Fraser, the one where Fraser accidentally tells Daphne about Niles’ feelings for her before the wedding when Johnny noticed Violette had fallen asleep.

Her head was tipped back and her chest was gently rising and falling; she looked so comfortable and peaceful he felt bad for waking her. Johnny shook her gently. “Hey Vi? It’s time to wake up, you’re gonna hurt your neck like that.” Slowly, Violette came to, lifting her head from the back of the couch, her eyes slowly opening. “Huh? What time is it?”

Her voice was heavy with sleep and she stretched, arms above her head. “Bout time for you to go to bed. You fell asleep halfway through Fraser.” Violette knew he was right; she had a long day at work and now all she wanted was to apply a serum or two and get into bed. “You’re right, it’s been a long day. Do you want the bathroom first?” He shook his head no, and she smiled before heading to her room.

“Good night Johnny.” They both headed their separate ways, and as he changed into his pajamas, Johnny could hear Violette doing her night time routine, the faucet running every few minutes as she rinsed her face. He checked his phone for messages, emails from his lawyer and Amber’s, two missed phone calls from his family about funeral arrangements, all things that can wait until tomorrow; he hooked it up to the charger and placed it face down. After a few more minutes, the faucet turned up for the last time, and Violette knocked twice before opening the door. “Bathroom’s all yours now.”

He tried not to notice how long her legs looked in her pajama pants or how ample her chest looked, even in an oversized shirt. Frankly, ever since he got here, Johnny’s been trying to ignore how gorgeous Violette is; she looked good in just about everything she wore: her work clothes where the slacks she wore clung to her legs like a second skin, the leggings and tank tops he saw her in, drenched in sweat when she came back after a morning run. It was like acting in front of a green screen and trying to ignore how ridiculous Bill Nighy looks with black dots on his face as he wears a gray leotard. Johnny couldn’t ignore the fact that Violette has an ass and breasts, and he felt guilty checking her out when her back was turned, but what could he do? He certainly wasn’t going to tell a grown woman to cover up in her own home; with a sigh, he shuffled into the bathroom to do his business.

Meanwhile, Violette was in bed, simultaneously reading and going through her text messages; due to the torrential rain that would be coming this weekend, book club was cancelled (which she was grateful for because she’s kind of behind the rest of the group). Violette was just about to call it a night when a new message appeared, from Angela. I know you took my floral dress the other day. Mikayla said she saw you leave with it. Yes, she did take the dress but that’s only because Angela took her favorite Dooney and Bourke handbag (something that happened months ago and Violette has yet to see it back in her closet) but unlike her sister, she plans on actually returning it. And what about it? she typed back. You can pick it up from the dry cleaner on Basin Street tomorrow, and you’re one to talk considering I haven’t seen my Dooney and Bourke purse since New Years.

Once the message was sent, she went back to her book, which had five chapters left; Violette reached for the notebook and pen and started scribbling notes about the chapter when her phone buzzed again. Thank you. And as for your purse, I think Miki has it. It’s hanging on the doorknob of her closet. Probably thought it was mine. But how’s it going with Johnny? Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, and she didn’t know what to say. How is it going with Johnny? Violette wanted to tell her sister that things are great, like nothing’s changed between them, about her growing feelings for her ex husband, but all she texted back was that things are fine.

Really, only fine? Leave it to Angela to be overly observant, might as well come clean now. It feels like nothing’s changed between us even though a LOT has. We’re cracking jokes, eating together, going out. It feels like old times. Violette knew what Angela was going to say next: that they need to slow down, how Johnny probably isn’t ready for another relationship when he already has so much going on. She hastily texted: And I know what you’re going to say next, but I can’t help it. He’s still Johnny. I gotta go, it’s late.

She put her phone on the charger and placed it face down on the nightstand. Violette hoped that all her feelings toward Johnny could just be chalked up to not getting enough sex or boredom or loneliness, because really, what would a relationship with Johnny look like today? Probably a long distance relationship and media interference, and she’d had enough of that from last time to last a lifetime. Besides, Violette never dates men with children, and in her age group, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack to find a single male in their late forties/early fifties who doesn't have children. Shaking her head at the thought, she pulled the covers up over her head and waited for the air conditioner to kick on to lull her to sleep.

So this was how the rest of their week went, both of them pining over the other without the other’s knowledge: Johnny pretended not to notice her figure and his growing attraction and Violette pretended that she didn’t harbor romantic feelings for him, until one day Johnny couldn’t take it any longer. He brought up the question while they sat in Violette’s car at a snowball stand, the a/c blasting and the radio on a low volume. “Why are we doing this, Vi?” The question was so out of left field that she almost choked on a bubblegum flavored hunk of ice. “What do you mean?” she asked, sucking the bubblegum syrup from the ice.

“I mean, why are we ignoring… whatever this is? We’re adults, Violette, we should be able to communicate with each other.” She was sure she was doing a good job at masking her feelings, but apparently she was wrong. “Because Johnny, it wouldn’t matter. Your life is in LA, with your children and work and my life is here. What could we actually do about it? You’re only here for another week.” Violette was actually glad that he brought it up now, because there was no way they would be able to do anything about it, since Johnny would be here for another week before going home. Leaving Violette alone with her unresolved feelings.

“And you already have so much going on. Are you sure this is what you want? If you’re ready for this?” Violette put another spoonful of her snowball in her mouth, sucking off the syrup until the ice was hard packed on her tongue. “Is that what you’re scared of? That I might leave again?” Johnny asked. “Not might, but will. As you can see, I don’t have a normal work schedule and I’m not a fan of long distance relationships.” And because I’m scared you could hurt me again,” she added in her head.

“Johnny, we’re not in the ‘80s anymore. We’re so different now, we always have been.” Johnny sighed before putting his cup in a cup holder. “We’re not that different, you’re still you and I’m still me. We’re older now, have more life experience. Violette, we were so young when we got married. And I moved on from her long before I thought about filing for divorce.” She took his words into consideration, really thinking about it. Was the reason why she never remarried is because that deep in her subconscious, Violette knew she and Johnny would make their way back to each other?

“Just one chance is all I’m asking. Please.” He looked so sincere, and the offer was so tempting. How many times had Violette had this dream of Johnny coming back to her and begging her to take him back? Too many times in the early days of their breakup, and Johnny was right, they’re older now, old enough to know what they want in their partners. “What do you say? Can you give me another chance? We can take it slow, whatever you want.”

Violette put the last spoonful of her snowball in her mouth, savoring the last bite as she thought it over. While she was a little apprehensive about the whole thing, she’d be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t at least a little curious as to how a relationship with Johnny would be like today. A lot of traveling back and forth, probably meeting his kids at some point. And what about long term? Would they live together?

Get married (or in their case remarried)? “We’ll take it slow?” Violette asked, just to make sure. “As slow as you want,” he answered. Violette smiled and grabbed Johnny’s hand. “Okay.”

#johnny depp imagines #johnny depp imagine

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hyper-fixate · 4 years

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A death that does not keep

Well, it’s me again, back on my ridiculously self indulgent AUs. I’ve finally posted the prologue to my Old Guard Fantasy AU to AO3.

Sorry it’s so short today. Chapter 1 is written, but still being beta’d. But today is little Squish’s birthday, so I’m sharing this with you as a gift!

Based on this post by @tovezza. Sorry it’s not much more than the Wednseday Wip, @ejunkiet, but next chapter will be up by Sunday! Promise!

Prologue - Only fools want to be great

The sharp pain radiates across Nile’s wrist and abdomen. She falls to the hard packed earth and forces down deep, shuddering breaths. Her lungs seem to have forgotten how to function.

‘You’re going to need to be quicker than that squire.’ Nile looks up into the gleaming eyes of her best friend, Dizzy. Well, Delilah, but if she hears Nile call her that, she would just knock her back into the dirt. Possibly sit on her for good measure. Nile groans and rolls to her side. She breathes through her nose slowly and wills herself not to be sick.

‘Lay off, Dizzy.’ Nile manages to lift her head up just enough to see Jay standing at the edge of the practice ring, leaning over the fence with a wide smile. Oh great, Nile thinks, an audience.

‘You caught me by surprise, is all.’ Nile manages to wheeze out. She pushes herself up and Dizzy threads her arm under hers to help her stand. ‘That was a hell of a move.’ Nile tightens her arms around Dizzy, a light squeeze to show she is fine to walk on her own. Dizzy releases her and bends to pick up Nile’s sword instead.

‘I learned it from one of the visiting knights, the ones from the desert.’ Dizzy pointedly ignores Jay’s gasp of faux judgment. She swings both Nile’s and her own sword over her shoulder. ‘Luckily I thought to try it out with a practice sword or the King’s army would be down one squire.’

‘The King’s army will be down three squires if we don’t hurry.’ Jay says, pushing herself off from the fence and placing her hands on her hips. Dizzy and Nile share a look and nearly dissolve into giggles. Jay is barely the eldest by eight months, but insists on acting as the mother of the trio. She tuts at them, but her lip twitches slightly upward.

‘Yes, of course mother.’ Dizzy sketches a rough curtsey, nearly falling over under the unsettling weight of the two wood swords on one side. Jay rolls her eyes at the antics and Nile stiffles another laugh as she reaches up to resettle her escaped braids in a low bun. Jay reaches out to touch Nile’s arm as they turn away from the practice yard back to the mess hall. It’s a silent question and Nile smiles at her in reassurance.

Nile can normally have Dizzy disarmed and on her back without working up a sweat. Nile has been helping her mother on the family’s farm as long as she could walk. Long hours of heavy manual labour has honed her body into a well muscled tool. And she had been training herself on a sword since she was old enough to grasp the hilt properly. Nile always knew that she would be the one to follow her father into the King’s Army some day. When the news reached her family that her father had been killed in battle, Nile had cried so much she had been sick. Then the next day she got up before the sun, took his battered sword from the bundle of his belongings and trained twice as hard.

The move from the visiting knights had surprised her, that was true. Their technique was about getting your opponent off balance. Their swords were often lighter and curved. They had a wider range of motions that could inflict damage, rather than needing to use the physical weight behind a thrust or swing as with the short, straight swords the army used. However, Dizzy was attempting the technique with a blunt, wooden practice sword and it should have been easy enough for Nile to evade. No, it isn’t the move that allowed Dizzy to best her. Nile is distracted, had been for days.

Nile catches her lower lip between her teeth and worries it. Her friends’ easy bantering fades into the background. A quick glance at the sun, hanging low on the horizon showed that the sixth bell must have rang while Dizzy and her were sparring, but not too long past. There would still be time to pull them to the side before they got to the mess hall, answer some of the questions they hadn’t spoken but Nile could hear in their sidelong glances and gentle touches this past week.

Nile has nearly convinced herself she would do it, when three things seemed to happen at once. First, at the moment girls reach the bottom of the hill, a large horse comes barrelling down the path. Seeming to not see them, or not care if he did, the rider does not break his frantic pace.

Second, Dizzy and Jay leap back, with a myriad of impressive curses. Luckily, Jay has flung her arm out on instinct, which stops Nile from continuing her distracted path forward.

Third, and quite possibly most important, the low buzzing noise that has settled at the back of Nile’s mind for nearly a week suddenly swells. She can think of nothing else. It is no longer a hum, but a scream. Every word she tries to catch slips through her fingers like water through a sieve. It grows and grows, seeming to fill every spare inch of her brain. She feels as if she is drowning.

Through the haze, Nile dimly hears shouts and feels the slick sensation of blood on her lips. The world goes black. She doesn’t feel herself fall.

#the old guard #the old guard fantasy au #I didn't intend to just write AUs #but that just how it be sometimes #nile freeman #andromache the scythian #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #sebastien le livre #my fanfic #beans writes fanfic

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weirdlyokaywithit · 5 years

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Soldier? Part 1

I watched him on the monitor, he was quick and methodical. Never thinking twice and acting on pure raw instinct, he killed mercilessly.

“Well, what’s your assessment?”

I scoffed and turned to look at Steve, he was watching me intently.

“That’s a joke, right?”

Steve shook his head and I turned back to the monitor.

“He’s a killing machine. Strong, calculated, smart. If you can find a way to keep his madness at bay, he’d be an asset,” I spoke, my eyes never leaving the soldier.

Steve moved beside me and clicked a button on the dashboard, the monitor changed and showed the subject locked in a containment cell.

“He’s here?” My eyes searching Steve’s.

He gave a curt nod, and I turned my eyes back to the screen. The subject was sitting on the bed, his eyes never leaving the door. His body was taut and he was tense, probably assessing the situation for a way out.

“Why am I here, Steve?” I tore my eyes away from the monitor to search his face.

“Fury recommended you for this. He said your background in this type of situation would come in handy,” he couldn’t meet my eyes when he said it.

My background meaning that when Fury found me, I was a brainwashed psychopath who tried to kill anything that moved. I wasn’t fortunate enough to have been brainwashed by Hydra, my organization didn’t have the sense to give me a handler who could neutralize me. Fury and Banner worked with me to cage my demons so that I could function as a normal person, well as normal as you can be when you’re genetically enhanced. It took five years.

“Steve, this could take a long time,” I said, my voice small.

“It’s a good thing I’ve got time then.”

“It took me five years to get functional.”

When Steve’s eyes met mine I could see the pain in them, he knew this man. Or at least who he used to be.

“Might as well start now then,” I sighed.

Steve looked alarmed, “You’re ready for that?”

I chuckled.

“Steve, I’m still enhanced. He can try to kill me but it won’t work.”

Steve nodded looking relieved, “Containment room C.”

I turned on my heel and left the screening room, when the door shut behind me I exhaled softly. My boots clicked on the tile floor as I made my way to see him.

I stretched my arms and rolled my shoulders, stopping in front of the guarded wing. The two guards nodded and pressed a few buttons to let me through. A loud buzzer sounded and the wing door slid open, I stepped through into the white hallway.

I inhaled deeply in front of containment room C, the door was no joke, it looked to be two foot thick. I hit the red button next to the door and leaned over to scan my iris. The door clicked and I slid it open enough to let myself through and the shut it behind me.

The subject was now standing against the back wall of the room, blue eyes watching me with distrust. His long dark hair was hanging somewhat in his face, his arms were crossed against his chest. The metal of his arm glinting under the fluorescent lights, the dark scrubs they had him in didn’t hide his physique.

I pressed my back against the door, my hands hung by my sides palms facing outward. To show him that I had nothing to hurt him with.

“What do you want?” His voice was gruff and full of disgust.

“Me? I want nothing from you. They want me to see if I can clear the fog on your mind,” I spoke clearly.

His eyes narrowed and his face twisted.

“I don’t care what they want, so whatever you try it’s not going to work,” he spat.

I shrugged, “Then it won’t work.”

He seemed taken aback by this, and his eyes never left me as I pulled the metal chair from the desk and sat down.

We sat staring at each other for an hour, blinking and breathing but never backing down.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, finally breaking the silence.

His eyes narrowed, “I’m not an idiot, they put sedatives in my food.”

I briefly flinched, I knew how those felt in your system. No control, hazy, unable to move.

“No sedatives when you’re with me.” I spoke with so much graveness in my voice that he cocked his head at me.

I clicked the com button on my sleeve and spoke loud enough for him to hear.

“Bring me a meal. No sedatives or I’m kicking someone’s ass. I’m serious.”

He never moved from the wall until the food came and he pushed off of it and stood ready to hurt someone. The guard handed me the tray and swiftly closed the door behind him.

I looked down at the food they brought, spaghetti with green beans and bread. I grabbed the fork, stirred the spaghetti and took a huge bite. He watched intently as I did the same with the green beans and bread. I took a swig of the water and set it on the tray and then put the tray on the floor in the middle of the room.

He waited five minutes before making a move for the tray, watching me intently to see if there was anything laced into the food.

He sat on the floor against the wall and ate quickly, watching me all the same.

When he was done he pushed the tray to the middle and resumed his position against the wall.

“Did you kill them?” I asked quietly.

His eyes flashed with something before he spoke. “Who?”

“The ones who did this to you.”

He nodded firmly and then looked away from my eyes. Like he was ashamed.

“I did too,” I admitted quietly.

His head snapped up and curiosity was in those sapphire eyes.

“I was 12 when they found me. My parents had died in a fire, no other family. An orphan. No one to care if I went missing. They took me and experimented on me, brainwashed me, turned me into a soldier.”

I couldn’t read his expression but I could sense that he wanted me to go on.

“I was 15 when Fury found me, at that point I’d killed countless people. I was so mindless that I would attack anything that moved. I got locked in a room similar to this until they could undo what had been done to my brain. It took a year for me to stop attacking things that moved. Two more for me to assess and identify friendly forces. And another two for me to operate in the field without reverting.”

“I don’t want to operate in the field.” His voice was quiet.

My eyes found his and my heart squeezed at what they saw, a broken man who wanted to be left alone.

“I thought the same thing. But there is no getting out for people like us.”

He looked down at his arm and his face twisted. When he looked back up at me, his face was blank and his eyes were cold.

“I want out.”

Here we go, I thought to myself.

“I know,” I responded.

He stepped away from the wall and closer to me. I didn’t move from the chair, if he was going to hurt me I wasn’t going to provoke him into it.

He stalked closer to me, and leaned down into my face. His features were perfectly sculpted, he was handsome. No questioning it.

“Let. Me. Out.” His words were harsh and said through clenched teeth.

I didn’t flinch or react, I calmly shook my head and looked into his ocean eyes.

His metal arm glinted as he grabbed my shirt, he leaned in closer until we were scant centimeters apart.

“I’m. Not. Asking.” He bit out angrily.

I opened my mouth to respond and his eyes shot down to my lips. His pupils dilated and his brow furrowed.

“I can’t let you out, James.” I spoke softly.

He stared at my mouth, brow furrowed and fist still clenching my shirt. His eyes darting back and forth like he was trying to figure out something.

“James...” He said quietly.

His head reared back slightly and I flinched, anticipating him to head butt me.

“I don’t-... I don’t like being called that...” He spoke like his words surprised him.

I hid my smile and said, “What do you like being called?”

His grip on my shirt tightened and his brow furrowed deeper. His mouth opened and his tongue ran along his bottom lip.

“Bucky?” He said tentatively. As if it was a question.

I nodded and spoke softly, “Okay, Bucky, I cant let you out of here.”

His eyes met mine but he wasn’t looking at me, he was lost in a world of his own. His hand released me shirt and he stepped back and sat on the bed.

I slowly rose from the chair and walked to stand in front of him.

“Do you remember anything?” I asked softly.

His looked up at me, and what I saw sent chills down my spine. A broken man forced to do things, confused and angry but not sure where to go. He was lost.

“I can’t remember who I am. But... I think I was good. There’s little ticks I still have... that I can’t place.” He spoke slowly.

I nodded, and slowly reached my hand out to touch his shoulder. Before it landed, his metal hand shot out and grabbed my wrist and shoved me backward. Hard. My back hit the desk and I hissed with the impact.

“I.. I don’t like to be touched.” He was half standing, like he was readying for an attack.

I straightened and rolled my shoulders and nodded.

“I’ll be back tomorrow... Bucky.” And then hit the red button by the door. The door clicked and I slid it open so I could slip out. Once I closed the door I collapsed against it.

I exhaled with a mixture of relief and satisfaction. So far he was doing a lot better than I had, that’s good news for Steve.

I shoved off the door and exited the wing and abruptly crashed into a wall of muscle. I looked up into blue eyes, I stepped back as Steve reached out to steady me.

“How did it go? Are you okay?” He asked eagerly.

“Well, he’s doing a lot better than I was when I started. He did shove me but it’s my own fault. I reached out to touch him, not a good call. I think I’ve established trust between him and I. Although it’s going to take several more sessions before he’s going to open up.” I divulged.

Steve was nodding intently and listening to my plan on how to get him to slowly want to interact.

“Also, no sedatives. Period. Ever. They should never have been given to someone like him who suffers with control.” I said the words very harshly.

Steve looked guilty but I wasn’t backing off, Bucky already had trust issues as long as the Nile River and sedatives made it worse.

“We didn’t know what to do, we couldn’t get him to calm down,” Steve’s voice was thick with guilt.

“Sedatives have been used on him for years, he’s coming out of a fog that’s lasted decades. We have to establish trust. No more. From now on, I will be in charge of what happens to him. For everything,” I said.

Steve nodded and his expression brightened slightly, “So you’re staying to help?”

“I’ll stay but I get whatever I want. And I want no one questioning my methods.”

“Done.”

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That’s all for this part!

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strangedaysindeed9 · 6 years

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Hey! Have you ever been to Glastonbury before? If so, do you think it’s possible for me to go by myself and enjoy? I’m thinking about going if the Monkeys headline next year but none of my friends would go with me... I’m used to go to shows by myself, it’s kinda my thing, but I’m a little afraid because Glasto is a whole other level and in a foreign country that I have never been to. Xxx

Hey! Yes, I’ve been to Glastonbury. Twice even. 2013 (Arctic Monkeys’ career-defining headline set /NME, The Rolling Stones’ iconic headline set with Mick Taylor, Miles Kane with special guest appearance by Alex Turner, plus Elvis Costello, Nick Cave, Liam Gallagher’s secret show at 11am, Chic/Nile Rodgers, Bobby Womack RIP, and so on…), and 2015 (Kanye West, The Who, Paul Weller, a secret show by The Libertines, one of the last performances by Motörhead, Burt Bacharach, Patti Smith, Mark Ronson bringing Boy George, George Clinton, Kevin Parker, Grandmaster Flash and Mary J Blige along, and so on…).

It really depends on what kind of character you’ve got. Have you ever been to festivals alone at all? It all boils down to how quickly you will feel lonely, and how easy you are able to entertain yourself. You say you’re used to going to gigs alone, but I personally think a festival as Glastonbury will be overwhelming on your own, especially since you’re saying you’re never been to England before. It’s overwhelming as is! It’s absolutely massive. The second time I’ve discovered whole areas I didn’t even knew the existence of the first time. Areas the size of a normal sized festival. Let alone the whole organisation of the trip in England.

I would imagine it would be a bit lonely, the long trek there, setting up your tent, and then it’s only Wednesday late afternoon and everyone is partying in groups next to you and you’re on your own. If you are terrified by the idea of even sitting in a restaurant on your own, don’t do it. Realise it’s 5 days full on party. No privacy, not a lot of facilities. The large majority of people attending will have their own crew of people, and are having a ball at Wednesday and Thursday at the camp site or at some of the countless of stages, and are seeing shows from Friday on. That might give a bit of an excluded feeling.

I like to be alone, I like to go on my own to gigs, I like people watching, I like the freedom of walking somewhere and decide to walk back to the other side of the festival again, just because I can. I like to just sit down - with food, always with food though - and take the atmosphere in. I roamed around on my own at Glastonbury during many moments, and even during the Wednesday and Thursday nights in 2013, when all the big stages are still closed, and the fun is everywhere around you. But I was always happy to be back with my company later on.

If you don’t care about that, you will be fine. And if you do care about that, but if you’re socially strong, and you easily make friends, you will be fine as well. Sure, the long-time festival goers say the Glastonbury atmosphere has changed a lot. And I strongly believe that, having experienced festivals from the early 00’s on as a young pup, and having seen how much different the atmosphere at a festival is nowadays. Since, I’ve seen festivals all around the world and as recent as 2015 Glastonbury has still been unique and unsurpassed in every way. Because regardless of however it was “back in the days”, I also strongly believe the atmosphere at Glastonbury is unmatched, and I’m sure you will be able to have a lot of fun with new people you meet. There are even solo festival goers meet-ups, I saw forum threads on that at eFestivals for example.

I’m saying this as the first person who would like to rub in he has seen the Arctic Monkeys in their prime doing their most special set with moments they’ve never repeated ever again, and which won’t ever be repeated. But take it from me: you can see and hear the show better on TV. Even at the front, the stage is far, very far, there are flags blocking the view, and the sound isn’t as loud as you would hope or expect. So you gotta ask yourself if it’s worth that to you. This is probably an unexpected turn, and I wouldn’t trade in my Arctic Monkeys Glastonbury 2013 for anything, but while I’ve experienced the show atmosphere to the fullest, I didn’t see the actual show to the fullest until I’ve seen it back. (Actually, I don’t think I ever saw the show back at all, to be honest) You can see this at this brilliant iPhone 4S snapshot I uploaded here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LnsRvWpBffQ And I captured and edited the priceless pre-show happenings from the crowd, because this is history for us and otherwise no one else would do it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OKTrRnjn0YQ So that’s something which is unmissable.

Anyway, let me be clear, going by yourself won’t be “unsafe” or “weird” at all. In my experience Glastonbury is one big village with people looking out for each other. But as said, it’s also one big party zone you can’t escape from, your neighbours are still partying next to your tent when you want a 3 hour night of sleep. This might sound like I’m trying to put you off, but I’m just being realistic that you’re having to estimate whether that’s something which would hold you back.

If you still aren’t sure, you can always buy a ticket and then not pay for it in half a year, you will only lose the administration costs which I believe is about 20 quid. But it’s really hard to get a ticket, really, really, really hard. I never got locked out of any ticket to any event, no matter how small or exclusive. But Glastonbury is the only one I needed 10 back-ups for to succeed. Get an army of people on it, all they need is your registration code (and credit card).

I hope these angles help a bit! x

#Glastonbury

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