Hi! Can i request MC with older brothers (i have four older brothers 😂) who are very protective of their little sister, and reaction of demon brothers, when MC wants to introduce them to her siblings?

hiya! ofc u can, im so sorry this is so late i saw it in my askbox like a week a week ago then forgot about it 😭😭 and then went away for easter and forgot abt it again😭😭

grma for the ask <3 fic dividers by @cafekitsune

MC With Older Brothers-Obey Me Brothers x Reader

When you had first been transferred to the Devildom, the inital shock of the new environment, the fact that demons and angels were actually real, the fact the fact that magic was actually real had made you forget about the reactions of your family back home upon realising yoou had just disappeared without a trace. It took you around a month to even remember, after the shock had worn off, and you had stopped living in survival mode. You hastily travelled to the Demon Lord´s Castle, and requested a formal visit to your family.

They were livid. Relieved but livid. Your parents, who were workaholics hadn´t noticed until around halfway through the second week. Your older brothers however, noticed the first day. And oh boy, did they want answers.

Going through Barbatos' portal was never a truly pleasant experience, although it wasn't unpleasant either. It was like that feeling in the pit of your abdomen when you're pushed too high on a swingset, but to a lesser extent. It almost looked like stars as the insides of the vortex falshed before your eyes before fading to reveal the park that you grew up near.

The reds and oranges of the leaves shone sparkling against the reddening sky with the morning dew. The early birds chirped, diving for worms, leaves fell gently down to the ground. You made your way home.

The familiar white door stood out like the gates of the Celestial Realm, your own personal paradise, everything you knew before the rug was pulled under you. You tried the doorhandle. Locked. Sighing, you looked under the entrance mat for the spare key and unlocked the door, walking into the hall. You had entered the kitchen and saw Evan, your second eldest brother making a sandwhich.

"Hiya!" You greet him. "Whatcha makin', Evs?"

Evan, who had just picked up his plate turned around and dropped it, his jaw slacked open, eyes wide. He stared at you, not even caring that his sandwich had fallen. "Y-you…where the fuck have you been?!"

"Uh...I-"

"Y'know what? Don't answer that yet." He steps away from you, moving out of the kitchen to the base of the stairs. "Sammie! Ben!" Evan shouts a few times, before hearing a pair of 'what?!'s back. "Get your asses down here now!"

Soon enough, reluctant thuds sound from the top of the stairs, getting louder as two of your brothers thunder down the stairs, you gulp. Lord Diavolo, you were in for it now.

Samuel appears downstairs first, the baggy MCR shirt he always wears to lounge around half hidden by his stained jacket. Ben follows soon after, phone in hand, no doubt open on the game he had been testing out. They both stall when they see you, Ben trips, and starts to fall, taking Samuel down with him.

“I-…MC..” Samuel swallows thickly. “W-where have you been…”

Ben parrots this.

You gulp. Adam—your oldest brother—would no doubt be the worst. And he wasn’t even home yet!

When Adam, your oldest brother did return from his date with his girlfriend (as you found out), he had demanded answers, and a hug. You try to explain it away, saying you found a scholarship at a college in another country, you must've just forgot to mention it! Silly you! Atleast that's what you were telling your older brothers, they didn't need to know you were taken to hell and the scholarship wasn't too far from the truth!

"Why didn't you visit? Or call? Or anything?" Was a question you heard parroted back to you multiple times.

"I...uh...it was just the craziness of it all....I forgot to call..." You rub the back of your neck. "I had to get a new phone anyway..." You say, giving them your number. It was a reasonable excuse. They couldn't exactly argue with it.

Samuel grabs your hand, the rough callouses of his fingers comforting. Permanent dents from his mastery of the guitar, he swings your arm back and forth, reminding himself that you're not in a ditch somewhere. "As long as you're safe...."

Evan huffs, Adam stares at you, eyes following your every move, he grumbles, "You're coming home every holiday you can. And calling us regularly. No more dropping off the face of the earth."

"Haha alright!" You laugh nervously, he didn't need to know that you technically did fall off the face of the earth.

"And I want to visit this College." Adam adds, Evan nods in agreement, as do the two younger of the brothers.

Shit.

Ben stretches, before sitting forward. "So tell us all about your dorm. Got any roommates?"

And boy, did that cause a few heated discussions. Though in the end you got away pretty much scott free. Though you had to visit bi-monthly, and call atleast bi-weekly.

On one of these bi-monthly visits, you'd decided to bring one of your 'roommates' along with you....

Just how would that go?....

LUCIFER

"Oh?~ Care to repeat that, MC?"

It had been a busy day in the Devildom for the Avatar of Pride. He was finishing up on paperwork when you came into his office asking him to come to the next visit to your brothers with you.

He acts a bit cocky over it, with his signature smirk and all, but agrees almost instantly.

Despite the fact that you asked HIM to meet your family, and that he was feeling quite flustered, he still somehow managed to make your cheeks burn and make you feel much more flustered about the situation.

"Hi everyone, this is Lucif-Lucius...! He's one of my roommates!"

"Lucius?"

"...My parents were Greek."

"Yeah, Ben, his parents were Greek don't be racist."

Lucifer relates to Adam on the sole basis that they're both the eldest, though he does feel second hand embarrassment anytime said brother would do anything a little too like him.

Overall its a pleasant time, your brothers were quite charmed by the Avatar of Pride, and it makes your pact mark buzz.

Lucifer fights the urge to place his palms over his face and re-contemplate his entire life and every single action he'd ever taken as he watches Adam, your eldest brother, lecture Samuel, the youngest of your elder brothers. The older man is glaring exasperatedly, Samuel hides his hands in his pocket, clearly uninterested. You watch on and feel a sort of deja vu, so does Lucifer. Does he seriously look like that when he gives out lectures? No wonder his brothers are so unruly! You pat his back from where you both sit on the sofa, he glares at you, though there's no bite to it. The second hand embarrassment is very strong.

MAMMON

"WHA- ehem...I-i mean of course ye'd want te intreduce yer b-brothers to the great M-mammon...!"

If Mams has a tail it'd be wagging like a helicopter propeller thingy.

You want HIM to visit your family?!

He's super tempted to go back and buy the engagement ring he'd saw in a jewellery shop window when shopping now!

He had been too nervous at the time....was he moving too fast...?

He's a nervous wreck, all the way there he's muttering things you can't understand in irish (gaeilgeoir mams agenda)

You can pick up the word 'focáil' (fuck) being thrown about a lot.

What de ye mean MC? He IS calm! Calmer than the sea on a stormy day...but thats still sort of calm!

The name Mammon isn't really known to anyone outside of the occult, so he doesn't change it.

"Mammon?" Evan says raising a brow, "What kind of a name is that?"

"He's Irish Evs don't be racist."

"Oh."

The dinner is quite awkward, but in the end, he somehow manages to win over your brothers.

and hey, if Ben gets more donations from people when he streams, Adam gets more costumers for his personal training, and Samuel and Evan get promotions at their jobs, well he didn't mean to! Honest!

Mammon sits at the dinner table with about as much nervousness as a schoolboy waiting outside the principal's office, he answers every question with a stutter, and tries his best to remember his table manners, your brothers are eyeing him suspiciously, until a clang sounds through the small kitchen, you had dropped your fork. Mammon perks up, happy to be 'useful' to you, "I'll get it!" and he practically dives down to get the utensil before washing it off and giving it to you. Your brothers relax slightly, deeming him too whipped for you to truly be a scumbag.

LEVIATHAN

"You want ME to WHAT?!"

bros panicking more than mammon☠️

Are you sure you want a stinky smelly otaku like me to-😰😰😰😰😰

It takes ages to calm him down enough, then he just feels flustered.

This reminds him of an anime with an insanely long name!

When you arrive at your house, he's so fidgety and nervous someone give this man a hug (dont he'll scream)

You introduce him as Levi, no one bats an eye to that one, hooray!

the atmosphere is very awkward until he notices the sticker on Ben's phonecase.

He finds out that your brother is a streamer, MC how could you never tell him?!

its a lot less awkward a lot more nerdy now.

"O-oh well I see where you're coming from, the mechanics and graphics on the game were great, but the lore needed work!" Levi says, stuttering far less than you'd expect him to. Ben nods, "I mean, I just kind of stayed for the boss fights, but yeah the lore was a bit..." He makes a face. Leviathan leans over, eyes sparkling, you admire them freely, normally he'd notice by now and be too flustered to continue talking. "Yeah! It had so much potential! But it just seemed so rushed!" You look around the room, Adam and Evan are conversing amongst eachother quietly, whilst Sam is trying his best to follow the conversation that Levi and Ben are having.

SATAN

"Oh? I'd be honoured..."

He's giddy, you wanted him of all of his brothers to come with you? Take that Lucifer!

This reminds him of when the love interest brings the protagonist to meet their family!

He reads up on the scenes as a sort of revision, though his natural charm is going to win them over anyway...or maybe not...

"Hello my name's Satan." He reaches out to shake Adam's hand.

Adam swallows, "Satan?"

Satan chuckles, having made a rookie mistake in his nervousness, "My parents were...devout satanists...I've had a hard life..."

Samuel pats his shoulders, "Oh you poor thing..."

He's honestly quite the gentleman, your brothers quite like him, despite his 'unfortunate' name.

"So S-satan..." Adam begins, "What was it like growing up with Satanist parents?" Satan sets his for down, "Oh, not as bad as one would think..." he quickly bullshits, "I did grow up in a very gothic style house though.." Your brothers nod, Evan intterupts, "So did you ever sacrifice any cats?" Satan grips his knife tightly, you feel rage bubble up in his pact mark. "No, satanists--atleast sane satanists--don't do that..." "Oh right..." Evan raises his hands in defense, "Just curious." "Oh no you're fine..." He says smoothly.

ASMODEUS

"Oh my Devil!~ I'd love to!"

Posts about it to his devilgram.

He's geniunely honoured, and sososososo excited.

"Hey guys, this is Asmodeus!"

"..Asmodeus?"

"...His parents are french..."

"Poor thing..."

ofc he wins them over, who do you think he is?

Adam loves him now, and Asmo is his goto for relationship advice.

Adam growns, looking at his phone, you give him a knowing look, "Trouble in Paradise?" "I forgot about our anniversary coming up! It's tomorrow!" He looks geniunely stressed. "There's no way I can get a restaurant reservation in time!" He says, stressing about his upcoming anniversary, it was his turn to do something. He didn't want to disappoint his girlfriend. Asmo shrugs, "So don't." Adam looks at him incredulously. "Excuse me?" "Don't go to a restaurant...the weather forecast says it'll be nice tomorrow, do a picnic or something." Adam gapes his mouth, breathlessly replying, "Yeah that could work...that could work..." A day later, Adam rings you, the picnic was a success! He demands Asmo's number.

BEELZEBUB

"Oh? Yeah MC I'd love to." :D

He's a little bit nervous, but happy that you asked him to go

Plus there's food involved.

Things that are important to you + you + food? He's in heaven (figuratively, last time he was in heaven he got thrown out, literally thrown)

Overall he's really sweet, has to eat a lot before he gets there so he doesn't accidentally eat one of your brothers.

"Hi I'm Beel."

"Beel?"

"He's Russian Evan, don't be racist." You bullshit, Beel looks at you, then smiles because he's looking at you :D

Your brothers love him, he's such a gentle giant.

Beel smiled happily, "This food is amazing." He says, closed eyed smile. "Thanks!" Evan grinned, "Cooked it myself!" Samuel scoffs, "No you didn't you microwaved it." Evan hits him over the head, "Shut up." He grumbles. Beel smiles again, they remind him so much of his own brothers.

BELPHEGOR

"No."

"What do you mean no?" :(

"I'm not going."

"Please."

"No."

"Pleaseee."

"Still no." He groans, putting his pillow over his face.

"I'll just have to ask Lucifer then..."

He jumps up. "Like fuck you will...c'mon, we have a family dinner to attend."

As per usual he is a bastard.

The waling talking definition of a bastard.

Your brothers hate him at first, but as the night goes on, they find out he's actually kind of funny.

"This is Belphie!"

"Belphie?"

"He's Russian don't be racist." You lie.

"Poor thing."

Belphie glares at you.

Belphie groans into his pillow, finally home, he drags you and pulls you onto the bed. Holding you in a vice like grip. "I'm never doing that again." He says tiredly, using you as a teddy bear to go to sleep. Bastard.

im experimenting with post designs :D

'gaeilgeoir' means irish speaker, i've seen it spelt other ways tho

@aph-usa-is-my-dad​ Thank you, thank you! 🙇🏽‍♀️

Alright lads, looks like it’s time for hot takes part III!

Here’s Part 1//Here‘s Part 2

Apollo won’t get Zeus position. Why is everyone wishing for that? And why should he? All of you really want to romanticize/project yourself onto him, huh?

Casual Reyna >>> praetor Reyna

Grover has the fattest ass in the Riordanverse, I don’t make the rules

People lack of basic reading skills part III

The fact that adults in New Rome let kids rule the fucking place is still mindblowing

Rick apologists are lame. People calling out shit isn’t an attack on you. Stop defending a product‘s/public figure‘s honor. Defending Rick Riordan is the equivalent of you defending the honor of a snickers bar. Dude doesn’t know you and dude doesn’t give a fuck about you. You are a walking dollar bill at best

Romans are still fucking wacky and despite Camp Jupiter being superior allegedly it’s a whole damn chaotic mess. Where are the supposed civilized Romans because I don’t see them?

Camp Half-Blood >>>> Camp Jupiter, especially when Percy trains in his summer vacations and beats praetor Jason’s goddamn ass who’s been training for 12 years

Why did Riordan even try to make Jason appear to come close to Percy’s level? The imbalance of power is so abundantly clear and makes Jason seem even smaller in that regard. Riordan is truly Percy’s biggest hater

The fact that CHB also glamorizes child soldiers in a more fun and relaxed way. Yikes

Nico is a white™ (again, he is European)

Rachel was annoying but didn’t deserve the blatant hate.

Annabeth should’ve had another possible love interest to spark some pissed Percy. Luke doesn’t count. Percy’s jealously revolves around (the possibility of) her not being around him (e.g. the hunters), not him ”losing“ her to someone else romantically speaking

Silena is the OG Aphrodite kid, fuck the rest

Amazons >> hunters by a slight margin. They’re also an awful bunch

The execution of the hunters is so bad omg, just let me revamp them, Ricardo

If a different take on a headcanon/characters really offends you/paint that much of a different picture of op, then I’m not sorry (only exception if the headcanon is based on discriminatory means. Someone saying they don’t like A and someone using slurs and being a douche are two different things)

The entire Aphrodite cabin is pan FYI

Team demigods who receive periods would probably be extra fucked when it comes to monsters and stuff. Let’s address this

Why exactly couldn’t the gods handle their own shit? Hunting monsters in your area makes sense as a demigod job. But stuff like retrieving Hermes‘ staff (especially when the dude is the speedy traveler guy) makes no goddamn sense

Let’s face it: Annabeth is the only good female character that Riordan pulled off. Also wasn’t she based off his wife? If so, that’s why.

The lack of irl examples for his POC and other women is abundantly clear as he can’t lure everyone from his environment into the stories especially because he has no irl connection to minorities. So he fabricated stuff/did his 5 mins of wiki and got it severely wrong. Clock that tea!

Camp Half-Blood t-shirts belong to the trash. Orange is Yellow‘s cousin and both are ugly to the max. Let’s just switch colors of both camps. Let the Romans deal with the hideous shit

Chiron and Paul are Riordan‘s self-inserts

Tbh giving Hazel super mist powers and tying Frank to Poseidon was stupid

Skater!Percy is pretty much canon but I just can’t envision it? The thought of it is cute and so 2000s but my brain goes fjfldlsöwlwbvd (and tbh gymnast!/dancer!/Parcours!Percy >>>>> skater!basketball!Percy)

People are forgetting that Percy is the unpopular kid both in the mortal realm and at camp and partially chose to be so? Let me remind you of the truth real quick

Beckendorf and Silena are the horny bastards of the Camp Half-Blood. Issa fact

The gods not really immortalizing Chiron and simply saying that he’ll live as long as he’s needed turned him into the cryptic fuck we all know. That’s why he barely helps out (On that note a tiny Chiron essay)

A headcanon, regardless of how popular it is, isn’t factual/reality. So fighting over different takes of the exact same issue is rather pointless but you do you. Some popular blog having an opinion with a large following doesn’t automatically negate your sentiment

Piper being ”unconventional“ as in hating make-up and being dressed up is in itself more than fine but the execution was lacking and her coming off as pretentious and annoying was the result

Piper also has no taste in men if she thinks that amnesia brick boy Grace > Percy. Just no. Lesbians claim haaa

If I see another Amandla or Zendaya or another biracial/lightskinned face claim for Hazel I will lose it

Everyone and their mother having a crush on Percy fuels them Gary Stu feelings, just saying

The fact that Riordan casually drops the abuse that Percy has suffered from like some fucking tic tacs just to never be spoken about should be a reason enough to whoop his ass

Not maturing and darkening HOO (there were good thoughts but also many whacky executions) was the biggest mistake Riordan had made. He should’ve went the Rowling route and transitioned from kids books to YA

The whole fire stick thing that Riordan ripped off from Meleager and slapped onto Frank was terribly executed

A lot of you people should open up more to jokes and not take everything all too seriously

The fact that people seriously ship/ped Reyna x Apollo is proof enough that this fandom should burn

Why do Luke discussions at this point still exist? You’re essentially glossing over the same four things

Hyping up fanfics to the max is a terrible idea. Also don’t shy away from giving writers constructive criticism

Stoner headcanons are here to stay and slay!

On one hand seeing discussions from the science side of PJO talking about the biology, physics etc. is super interesting but on the other hand getting heated over the illogical basis of ”magic“ is pretty much a waste of time

Riordan‘s world building is truly awful

Frazel is a crime against humanity

If you don’t get someone‘s post actually look op up and read the tags? No need to spam the exact question to everything

Fat Frank stays. I get it, Greek gods are hot, they are conceited and choose to fuck people that they perceive as attractive, so their offspring also has some higher levels in the beauty realm. But why not explore the opposite? Why does every character need a makeover or a blessing that gives them enhanced looks?

Clarisse‘s thigh can break ya neck

Also Riordan is Annabeth’s biggest hater. Let’s throw all of her most important possessions away to proof that the smart one can survive without any of it. Sure, but the emotional attachment to the stuff still remains especially when everyone else is walking out of Annabeth’s life

Making Leo another horny bastard was an accurate portrayal of your casual 16 year old boy. Annoying, but realistic

hey hello hi SO here's the deal I legit adore all your bird facts and your tag rambles n whenever I see them I'm like "!!!!!!" so I wanted to ask you a Bird Question so I get to hear more rambles but I don't know enough about birds to ask anything that sounds smart SO if this is not a weird request maybe could I please have some words about... 1) a Weird Bird, 2) a Cool Bird and 3) a bird you would most like to be bros with. sorry if this is a super weird ask ahaha ok cya later have a good day

HI HELLO you actually read those??? omg that very much makes me v happy to hear I just like to throw up knowledge into the tags and then assume no-one is gonna ever observe it. 

Wowza. Secret fan right here :D

Okay okay birds. Biiiirds. I gotchya man. Lots of my college project has been looking into birds. I know birds. 

However, I do live in England where there aren’t many weird birds. Our birds are kinda tame. I guess the tiny birds are kinda weird. I’ll give you some tiny bird facts. 

European robins are very shy little birds, very wary and cautious around people in most of Europe. Here is one of them;

Little fat lad. In most of Europe, v shy. However! In England, they are super bold. Very daring. Very commonly seen in gardens and allotments, waiting for gardeners to finish digging at a patch to go rummaging for bugs and other things they can eat. This is because in England, it’s considered bad luck to kill robins (don’t ask why I couldn’t find out) so they’re v safe here. 

They were called Robin Red Breast for a while, due to... red. Postmen in Victorian England also wore red around winter time, as part of their uniform, so a popular nickname for postmen in winter was Robin Red Breast. It became a sign of Christmas coming, hence why robins are so strongly associated with Christmas despite being year-round visitors. The last bit of their name was dropped but the sentiment remains. 

Other small bird facts; Goldfinches! V pretty birds. Here’s a picture

Wow look at that bird, so pretty! So, the deal with goldfinches was that they have super sweet song. I can hear one outside right now, actually, v tuneful, v recognisable songbirds. As a result, for a lot of history, goldfinches have been caught to keep as cage birds, to sing away and make rich lords and ladies houses sound nice. Rude practise. 

People think their population has been declining and blame the magpie. You’re Australian so maybe you’re like ‘reeee magpie’ (although my brain is telling me you don’t hate them and think they’re bros correct me if I’m wrong) but here magpies are mostly disliked because of their habit of taking from nests - a behaviour common to many corvids (more on that later). However! There have been lots of studies into this, and it was found that areas with higher magpie populations had no correlation to the number of songbird deaths in the area. Almost like... industrialisation and farming are driving them out of their area. 

These are long rambles. There are two info-splurges on tiny birds. Let’s move on to a cool bird, the swift! The common swift. Just to be clear.

I fucking adore swifts. Every year I wait eagerly for May to roll around so they return to England again. They are delightful birds, even if their screams are a bit unnerving. In Medieval times, people used to think their screams were the screams of damned souls in hell, and that when swifts vanished during the winter, they were buried in the mud to sleep, a belief held due to their nest-building habits of dried mud being the main item used to build nests.

Swifts barely ever land!! The only exception to this is to feed their chicks. When they’re little chicks, they do press-ups with their wings to build up wing muscles, Once they leave the nest, they keep flying for most of their life, only stopping when THEY have chicks!!! They eat, sleep and mate on the wing!!! Wild man!! 

As said before in the tags that I think you read, they rarely fly in the rain when in England/Europe - they fly to eat the bugs, and the bugs hide when it rains, so they just.... fly around the storm. They’re the only bird to actually do this. Unrelated but also neat, they’re one of the oldest species of birds, and whilst they look like swallows and house martins, they’re most closesly related to the hummingbird!!!

Swifts have the fastest level flying speed of 69mph. This means that it has the fastest speed it achieves by itself - the fastest bird of all is the peregrine falcon with its dive breaking speeds of 240mph!! That’s wild. They also keep flying for the longest, as said, and fly the furthest, from Africa to Europe and back again every year. One swift was recorded flying 4 million miles in its life - the same as travelling to the moon and back 8 times!!! Crazy. Insane. I love swifts. 

Bird I would most like to be bros with is the crow 100% because. Hello. Have we met. I love crows. Carrion crows, because they’re the crow we have here the most. 

There they are!!! V pretty. I love them. So much. 

So! Carrion crows often get a bad wrap for a variety of reasons, mostly history based, which is what I was actually exploring in the funky crow comic I’ve been doing for college work. I will say I blame Christianity and Alfred Fucking Hitchcock for their demonisation the most. They’re actually bros, being able to recognise human faces, reward those who are nice to it and punish those who are cruel. They can also tell other crows which humans are good and bad.

As said previously, a lot of corvids attack nests and eat eggs or young of other birds. I can’t defend this much - it’s what corvids do. Hell, the local crow in our area recently attacked the jackdaw nest across the road. It happens. C’est la vie. They do this because they’re scavengers, opportunistic, eating anything and everything they can, which is most likely how they’ve adapted so well to the huge industrial boom and in so many different places around the world!

In Japan, the Kanji for ‘crow’ is the same as the Kanji for ‘bird’, except the bit that symbolises the eye is removed. This is because crows, being all black with beady black eyes, look like they don’t have eyes from a distance. I learnt that from Persona 5. 

Their brains are huge!! Smart boyos!!! Hell, in terms of brain to body mass, their brains are bigger than apes!!! They’re insanely good at problem solving, with wild crows who were kept in captivity for short periods for testing being able to solve multi-step problems (some problems being 8 steps long!) for food!!! They’ve also been seen playing around with each other and the environment, something that had only been seen in apes and other high-intelligence and social creatures. They recognise their reflection. They have been observed making tools in the wild. They are very smart. 

Crows have really interesting routines and behaviours they follow regarding death - when finding a dead crow, they sound the alarm, and all swarm around the body, working together to try and figure out how it died and if it’s a threat to all of them. Sometimes they lay things on the dead crow, which some believe is similar to burying. If you’re interested in this, Kaeli Swift is a good name to look into - she specialises in corvid behaviour. 

My head is now going blank with crow facts but I think there are more. Support your local corvid nerd. Support your local bird nerd! Didn’t know I had so many facts rattling in my head. 

This uhhhh got long. If you got to the end, thumbs up 10/10 appreciate. Hope you have a top tier day :D

This Is for Liverpool by Andy Robertson 

I need to start with a confession. Not many things bug me, but if there’s one thing that does, it’s the idea that my story is a football fairy tale.

I know when people say I’m some sort of Cinderella Man that it’s meant as a compliment. I appreciate that, but to be totally honest, it doesn’t feel like one, because it isn’t true.

No magic wands have been waved in my direction, I didn’t win some kind of lottery to land a spot on one of the biggest clubs in the world. The reason why I’m a Liverpool player is the same reason why I’m captain of my country: I’ve worked my bollocks off to get where I am, and by doing that, I’ve been able to make the most of whatever talent I have.

Why does this matter? In truth, it doesn’t matter to me as an individual. It probably doesn’t matter to my family, either. It only matters because there are God knows how many little Andy Robertsons out there. Kids who are struggling to convince people that their talent deserves an opportunity. Kids who just need a break to get to wherever they deserve to be.

Kids who might give up if they start believing that only a fairy tale can save them.

I’ve never wanted to be a poster boy, but if I’m going to be a poster boy for anything, it should be this ― if you don’t give up, and if you carry on believing in yourself when others are doubting you, you canmake it. You can show that you are good enough.

Now I’ve got two kids of my own, that message is more important than ever. I don’t want them to think that their dad got a lucky break. I need them to understand that whatever potential they have can only be fulfilled if they put their minds to it. Fairy tales? That’s bedtime stuff.

One of the best things about football is that there are loads of people like me. Most players get to the top because they are so driven. The Liverpool team that I’m a part of has no shortage of players like that.

Take Virgil van Dijk, for example, the best centre back in the world. How many coaches and scouts looked at him and thought he wasn’t destined for the top? He’ll tell you himself that there were plenty

.Mo Salah, one of the best finishers in the game today, was once discarded as not being good enough for a top Premier League side.

Jordan Henderson must have lost count of the times he has had his ability questioned – although never by anyone who has been fortunate enough to work with him – and here he is on the brink of captaining Liverpool in a second successive Champions League final.

I could go on and on, I really could. If these were all fairy tales, we’d have more than Hans Christian Andersen. They’re not, though. They are all examples of hard work and commitment making the difference.

The same applies to us as a team and to Liverpool as a club. We are where we are because of our work ethic and our belief that pretty much anything is possible. That’s the reason we were able to come back from 3–0 down against a great Barcelona team. We didn’t wait for fate to play its hand and hope that it would go in our favour, we forced fate to go our way and not even Lionel Messi, the best player I have ever set eyes on, could stop that.

Maybe there were those outside Liverpool who didn’t believe we would make it to the final. To be fair to them, they had more than enough reasons, especially after we had our arses kicked in the Nou Camp. There was something about that first leg, though, that gave us belief. We had seen enough to know that we could compete against Barcelona. The problem was that all of the decisive moments had gone against us, and we knew that with Anfield behind us, that momentum could be reversed.

If I was a sympathetic type, I’d probably feel sorry for opposition players coming to Anfield on European nights. What they’re up against is almost unfair. That intoxicating mix of history, passion and unshakable belief is a hell of an advantage to have, and that’s why Liverpool have beaten the odds on many occasions, and that’s why our supporters turn up convinced that the seemingly impossible is possible. They’ve seen it before, so why shouldn’t they expect it?

We knew that we had a chance when we were in the dressing room waiting to run out. We knew that the manager believed in us because he had told us. We knew that the supporters believed in us because we could hear them. My God, we could hear them. And, probably most important of all, we knew that we believed in ourselves and in each other.

That’s why when Divock scored in the seventh minute, I didn’t just believe. I knew. I knew what was coming — what Anfield was going to create. I hope that doesn’t sound disrespectful in any way, because I couldn’t have more respect for Barcelona, but on that night it wasn’t about them. It was about us. We were fired up by the fans and our hunger was on another level.

It hadn’t been easy to feel like that in the minutes after Messi had worked his magic in the first leg. At that stage, we felt flat, which was probably unavoidable. Although we were in Barcelona, Madrid couldn’t have felt further away. Then the manager came into the dressing room, bouncing and wearing his trademark massive smile.

“Boys, boys, boys!” he says, “We are not the best team in the world. Now you know that. Maybe they are! Who cares? Who cares! We can still beat the best team in the world. Let’s go again.”

It might have taken me a second, or maybe the entire flight back to Liverpool to believe him, but in hindsight that was the moment that changed everything for us. In football, everyone always talks about belief. Every team says they had it after a comeback. But that’s not the case at every club. It’s just not. The manager, he starts it all. He lights the touch paper and then Anfield does what it does.

I remember in the warmup, the place was jumping. It felt like everyone was on top of us, so God knows what it was like for the Barcelona lads. When Div scored so early, you could just see it in their eyes. The fans went insane. I couldn’t hear a thing. I just remember looking at Hendo, Milly and Virgil — those boys barely cracked a smile.

They just waved their arms at the crowd, as if to say, “We’re gonna go again.”

I suppose that night will go down in history. Anybody who loves this club will remember where they were, and who they were watching with. For me personally, what made it even more special was where I had come from to get there. I knew how hard it had been and I knew how, if I had listened to others, I wouldn’t have made it anywhere near Anfield that night — except maybe as a fan who wanted to understand what all the fuss was about.

I had grown up going to Celtic Park with Mum, Dad and my brother. We had four season tickets. My brother and I had Henrik Larsson posters everywhere. Legend. Absolute legend. I even had green wallpaper. Celtic was a part of our family. That’s just the way it was and the way it still is. I joined the youth team as a wee lad, just bombing around the pitch pretending I was at Celtic Park.

At the start, I actually played up top for a bit. Dad even paid me two quid a goal. I think I made £75 one season — unlike now, when I’d probably end up owing him money, seeing as I’m not exactly Salah in the scoring stakes. Over time, I found my way into midfield, and in my last season with Celtic I bounced between the middle and left side quite a bit. They’d brought in a new technical director that year and apparently I just wasn’t in the plans for whatever reason.

At my end-of-year interview, the coaches let me know they wouldn’t be bringing me back. I was 15. One year away from getting a pro contract. One year from being a proper Celtic player. But it was over, just like that, and it hurt like hell.

Mum hated to see us cry. Still does. But she saw me shed more than a few tears that day. I remember she grabbed me a takeout curry from my favourite place to try to cheer me up. It was midweek, too. I almost never got midweek curry. I couldn’t even eat much of that. That’s how she knew how bad I was hurting.

It was just gutting, but thankfully my family really had my back. They let me keep chasing my dream, even when it might have felt unrealistic to keep going. We decided to give it another go at Queens Park in 2010. Bit of a smaller club in Glasgow, to say the least. Life was different there. I was making six quid a night. It was a working-class type of club, and most players were coming from jobs they worked during the day. It was no different for me.

I did all sorts of jobs to scrape by. I got set up with landscaping gigs, I cleaned up after the first team, and I even worked down at Hampden Park during Scotland matches. My parents told me if I didn’t start to find my game that year, it’d probably be best to start looking at Uni options. So I just put everything I had into getting better every day. That was real work, real pressure.

People always ask me about the pressure of playing for Liverpool. And it’s there, trust me, I feel it. But there’s that pressure, and then there’s the pressure of playing for your life — knowing that if you can’t figure it out, you have to give up on everything you love. That’s the harshest pressure I’ve ever felt. And in that situation, I began to truly believe in myself — maybe for the first time in my life. I didn’t really have another choice.

Dundee United approached me a few years later, and that allowed me to train every day while making enough money that I didn’t need the side gigs. But I think in the end it was good for me to see what people deal with day to day, outside of the bubble of football. When I got the chance to play in the Premier League with Hull City in 2014, I had lived a lot of real life. My ambitions were always to be a solid SPL player. When I was landscaping and emptying the bins, I didn’t think I’d ever be playing Champions League football, especially for Liverpool.

It’s funny, actually … a few clubs called when I was in preseason with Hull in 2017, but I wasn’t really that interested. My missus was pregnant, and we were in the process of getting everything ready for our big arrival — that was our top priority, like any expectant parents.

Then I heard Liverpool wanted me.

Liverpool.

When you hear Liverpool want you, you call your agent back in about five seconds. I couldn’t sign the contract fast enough, to be honest.

I got a dose of reality pretty quickly, though. The medical took two days, and it was brutal. My diet was weird because the medical staff had to do so many tests to make sure I was fit and was going to stay fit. After I passed those tests, I had to go to Melwood to do a lactate test. I was running it with Danny Ings, and after a few laps around the pitch, I felt something going on with my stomach. I knew things were going to get bad, but what can you do? I just kept running. A few minutes later, I’m on my knees, puking my guts out on the Melwood pitch.

This hallowed ground. This place where all these legends have trained. King Kenny. Rushie. Stevie Gerrard. And here I am, some wee lad from Glasgow, spewing up in front of the Liverpool medical staff.

If first appearances count, God knows what they thought about me.

The next day, I met the manager and I heard his laugh from a mile away. He’d obviously heard about my test. I turn around and he’s walking toward me, rubbing his belly and pointing at me. The staff behind him are having a laugh, too.

Then he gave me a big hug. After that, I relaxed a bit.

The whole squad made me feel welcome that week, but honestly, it took a really long time for it to sink in that I was a Liverpool player. I wore the red shirt. I wore the club tracksuit everywhere we went. I was wearing it around the house. But I still didn’t feel like a Liverpool player.

I was in and out of the lineup for quite a few months. And the system we play is so complex, I was working so hard in training to learn it all, to understand what the manager wanted from his fullbacks. When I wouldn’t see my name on the teamsheet, my belief in myself started to dip. It did. But all my experiences in life, and the tough times I went through at Celtic and Queens Park, it taught me to be patient.

So I would just come back to training every day and try to catch the manager’s eye by working harder than everyone else. Eventually, he noticed. I think he was just waiting for me to get it — to feel like a Liverpool player and have that confidence. And when I slotted into the lineup, I was ready.

Our supporters have been incredible to me since I got here. And last year they really carried us all the way to the final whistle and beyond in Kiev. That night was hard, and I don’t think you ever really get over a match like that. You just live with it. That night, I remember the silence in our dressing room, I remember the painful flight home. And I remember hearing “You’ll Never Walk Alone” after the final whistle.

The supporters still sang their hearts out, and that sticks with you.

We got back to Melwood at four in the morning, and the manager gave us all a hug and told us how proud he was of our team. And he also told us that we’d be back. Somehow, after a very long road … after being down 0–3 to bloody Barcelona … he was right.

We are back.

It’s not lost on any of us what this opportunity means. This has been an incredible season, full of so many ups and downs and emotional moments. But for me, it’s also been a chance to take a step back and see the full picture. From being released by Celtic and sobbing over my curry, to making six quid a night grinding away in Scotland, to signing for Liverpool and putting on that red tracksuit, barely believing it.

It feels good to have another crack at this final. Nobody deserves it more than our supporters, who have backed us through the good times and the heartbreak. But like us, they will know that we are up against a top side in Spurs. Mauricio Pochettino and his players will be just as determined as we are to do something special in a final like this.

The thing that matters most is that our fate is in our hands. We know that. And if there’s one thing I can guarantee about this team, about this group of players, it’s that we will stop at nothing to try to make our supporters’ dream come true.

If that does happen, it won’t be a fairy tale.

It’ll be because we deserve it.

Silly Pleasures-Chapter 4

“Hey! I thought we agreed, switch off each song? You’re taking advantage of the aux,” Dallas grumbled down by my side.

“Just one more, I need to hear High Horse again to lift my spirits,” I responded, snarling at the dull pain on my hip. I heard Dallas’s mumbled complaints, but he allowed me to play the Kacey Musgraves song to completion. When he heard the beginnings of a Jimi Hendrix guitar riff, I could practically feel his shoulders relax. “You’re so annoying,” I griped. 

“If you’re not careful this tiger will end up looking like the outline of Brazil.” I rolled my eyes and gritted my teeth at his words. Though the pain was subtler than the burning I felt when getting my foot tattooed, the tiger (Cecelia) that was getting inked on my skin was quadruple its size. I could only take the constant pain for so long before I started getting snippy. 

“The outline is done, so I’ll head out for a smoke, and then we’ll finish this baby,” Dallas told me fifteen minutes later, finishing the last few lines as he spoke. To signal break time, he slapped me hard on my thigh, near my burning hip.

“I fucking hate you,” I shuddered, looking straight into his eyes. Dallas laughed and made his way around the bed to his cigarettes resting on the counter.

“You still not smoking?” he asked, his Texan drawl coming through.

“Nope, not letting these Europeans have their way with me yet.”

“Be back here in fifteen,” he replied, ignoring my last statement to walk out the back door of the tattoo parlor. I shimmied off the bed, moving slow, making sure not aggravate my hip. The t-shirt dress I was wearing was long enough to leave the shop in and not look like I was only half dressed. I slipped on my yellow checkered vans, looking suspiciously like a girl from a Metro Station music video, and hobbled my way out the front of the shop. Union Jack was a small parlor, nestled between a barber shop and a conveyor belt sushi restaurant in the middle of Shoreditch. Beyond the incredible curry found in the area, the neighborhood also had my favorite assortment of sex shops whenever I needed to pick up some new accessories for work. 

I made my way inside the little sushi house, ordered my simple spicy tuna roll, devoured it in minutes, and trekked a whole 10 meters to get back inside Union Jack. It was a new personal record. Despite how short the journey was to me, it seemed that, in my absence, the entire atmosphere of the shop had changed. Dallas’s co-worker, Angie, was speaking excitedly to two young men facing away from me as I walked in. I identified one of them instantly. 

The shorter of the duo turned around to see who entered, giving me a polite smile before turning around to Angie again. While I attempted to maneuver around to Dallas’s alcove without alerting Harry, the back door slammed forcefully. The slam was followed by a typical Dallas yell. “Jeanne baby get your ass back in here, let’s demolish this tiger!” 

I felt my neck heat up and chest flush red. As soon as Dallas rounded the corner to the main room, he paused, looking both alarmed and confused. “Oh, hey,” he started. “Mates,” I closed my eyes in irritation. “Sorry about the noise,” he chuckled awkwardly, considerably quieter than moments before. To make things even worse, he attempted to motion to me, covertly, to return to his side. Being subtle, however, was never Dallas’s strong suit. 

“No worries, good to know the place is so lively,” Harry’s friend spoke, looking strangely like the lovechild of Ed Sheeran and Chris from series three of Love Island. It was at this point that Harry decided to turn around to look and see who Dallas was motioning to. He found me. I could see the usual, polite smile start to form on his face and then the shift happened. Once he grasped who he was looking at, his smile went from that of a man sitting in a press conference to a straight line-not from anger, but from confusion. And then again, another second passed and it changed, his eyebrows rose and a genuine smile appeared on his face. I scurried towards Dallas before I could see anymore. 

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed, halting me right before I could fully get to Dallas’s room. I did not mean to be rude, but considering my overly flirtatious last meeting with him, I felt incredibly awkward.

“Hi,” I turned around, pretending that I did not notice it was him before I tried to run away. “It’s nice to see you again,” I said, clenching my teeth tightly to form an uncomfortable smile. I silently cursed myself at my assumption, as well, not sure if he wanted to pretend like we had not met previously. 

“Fantastic to see you,” he smiled. I just stood in front of Dallas as silence started to creep over the room. “Are you getting a tattoo?” Harry asked to break the stillness, though I got the feeling that I was the only one who found the silence difficult.

“In the process, would you like to see the style?” Dallas quickly asked, taking over the conversation. He turned me to the side and lifted the bottom of my shirt to reveal the giant tiger on the side of my left hip. Basically, my butt. Out. In front of Harry Styles.

A startled yelp left my throat along with a, “What the fuck,” I whisper sharply to Dallas. I hesitated, deciding not to shove down my shirt again in case that made the entire situation even more uncomfortable.

“You see, I usually do traditional style, but she’s one of my favorite clients to test out new stuff on so I went a bit into east Asia for line inspiration,” Dallas spouted out. I could see instantly what he was doing, using this time to try to sell his tattoo skills to Harry. Hoping, no doubt, for a famous client to bring in more money and visitors. 

“Amazing,” Harry responded, not really looking at my tattoo and instead attempting to make eye contact with me. My brown eyes were looking in every direction except his. “So, how are you? I haven’t seen you around much.” I wanted to respond sarcastically, asking in what universe would he just ‘casually’ see me around, but I held it in. Dallas also took this time to let go of my shirt, catching on that Harry was not really interested in his technical skills.

“Well, London is a big town.”

“Really? I find it rather small,” Harry retorted sweetly. I gave him a tight-lipped smile, not really sure what else to do. It had been two weeks since the incident at Paradise and with the aid of my friends, I was unable to shake the embarrassment. Though, I still could not figure out if I was more mortified at my drunken behavior or upset that I did not end up hanging around him for longer. That could have been my chance to hook up with a pop star. In my current state, I’m sure he found that possibility quite far-fetched. 

“I’m Eliot,” Harry’s friend spoke after another moment of silence.

“Oh ha, sorry, I’m Jeanne. Nice to meet you.” My words were rushed and I decided to put my right hand forward to shake his. Eliot gave me an odd look before agreeing to the gesture. To ensure my follow through, I then decided to shake Harry’s hand. I saw his amused expression behind the words, “Hello Jeanne.” A strange feeling coursed through me when he spoke my name for the first time, his lips forming around the word delicately. It was only after I pulled away from his grasp that I realized how wet and sweaty my hands felt. I discretely whipped my hand on my shirt and I cleared my throat, finally saying, “Well lads, lovely to make your acquaintance, but we must return to the work at hand.” I gave a mini salute before I turned towards Dallas and pushed him into the room, crawling back on the bed and lifting my shirt.

After a few moments of silence as Dallas set up his equipment, he asked, “Did you realize that you just put on an English accent for those departing, lovely words?” He giggled like a prepubescent boy. Embarrassment washed over me yet again.

“Oh, fuck me dude!” I exclaimed and slapped my hand to my forehead. 

“I’m sure he thought that was super cool. You’re not like other girls, ya know?” Dallas responded sarcastically. I rolled my eyes and instead of responding, I reached for my phone and put on Kacey Musgraves once more. “Okay, not cool,” Dallas complained, starting up the needle and continuing my ink.

*

An hour and fifteen plays of High Horse later, my tiger was complete. I was always drawn to aggression in art and that displayed perfectly on my hip. A Bengal tiger prowled down my side as if it were a large branch in the jungle. 

“Thanks man,” I breathed out, glad for the constant burn to be absent. 

“I always take care of my girl,” Dallas smiled, showing off his big gap between his two front teeth. I ruffled his blond, shaggy hair and moved to stand up to be wrapped. “You know the aftercare drill obviously, but I do want to remind you that this is not the time to try out a new whip on your thigh for your daddies.”

“Um okay, you are never calling them that in front of me ever again,” I recoiled. He finished the wrapping and headed towards the main room so he could process my credit card.

“Whatever, you know what I mean,” he said, now behind the main counter, “Leave the whips and chains alone for a bit.”

“Whips and chains?” I heard an amused voice ask from across the room. I felt like I was going into cardiac arrest. For some reason, I assumed that whatever brought Harry and Eliot into the shop would have ended long before I left, leaving me free to exit without their presence. I was wrong.

“She works with horses,” Dallas told him quickly. I shot him an angry look.

“Oh really, that’s exciting. Do you play polo or…?” I was shocked again that Harry attempted to make actual conversation with me, especially after my accent blunder earlier.

“Oh, no I don’t work with horses, he’s just being an asshole.” Harry looked confused so I felt compelled to answer him myself. “I’m a…model…of the sort.”

Harry looked attempted to look impressed, but I could really see that my answer only muddled him further. Though I didn’t know his entire life story, I knew enough about Harry to know that his previous girlfriends were almost all thin models above 5’9. My short stature and thick thighs did not really fit into that stereotype. 

As I gave my card to Dallas, Harry stood by silently, almost begging through his body language for me to initiate conversation. I conceded. “So, come here often?” Not the smoothest, but it was passable. 

“No actually, my mate is getting his sleeve worked on. I usually go to a spot up in North London.” I just nodded, examining the smattering of tattoos visible on his arms.

“Cool mermaid,” gesturing to the ink on near his elbow, “I thought about getting one, but was not really sure if I wanted her to be coy or murderous so I gave up.” I wasn’t really thinking as I spoke. I found it easier to have my routine, weird conversations when I was not looking directly into his eyes. I chose, instead, to focus extensively on the topless sea creature on his arm. 

“Huh, interesting. I think this one does both. She kills with her beauty,” he replied, looking down at his tattoo. I nodded silently, not realizing until it was too late that I was tracing the line work with my black fingernail. Harry didn’t seem to mind that I was touching him relatively intimately, but I decided to pull away anyways. I turned back to Dallas who had a puzzled expression on his face, looking at me like I was an alien from another galaxy. He slowly handed me my card back as I widened my eyes at him in an effort to stop his behavior. 

“Thanks Dally boy,” I said sharply to him, roughly placing my tip for him in his hands before turning back to Harry again. I was not too sure how to end the conversation and leave unscathed. “Well, nice seeing you again.”

“Yea! How’s the tat?” Of course, he wanted to continue on. 

“Oh, Cecelia is doing swell.”

“Who?” 

“My tiger.”

I heard Dallas snort behind the counter. I struggled, forcing myself to not glare at him, before continuing. “I named her,” I said finally.

He smiled back. “Sick. I hope I can see Cecelia some time.” My eyebrows immediately rose at the statement, shock overtaking my entire being. “Oh no, no, not like that. Ha, I don’t know what I meant really, ignore that!” Harry followed up quickly, turning beet red. It was slightly comical to listen to his thick accent stutter over his words.

In an effort to make him feel less uncomfortable and dig myself into a deeper hole, I replied to his statement with, “That’ll be 50 pounds!”

For a moment, I thought it was funny. 

It slipped out so fast, I did not even comprehend that I not only passed myself off as a prostitute, but that I priced myself way to cheaply. I shook my hair into my face, to hide my mortified expression. Of course, my statement definitely made him feel better about his own declaration, his quiet laughter coming through. “I’ll be going now. Bye Harry,” I rushed out, speaking mostly to the floor as I turned to leave, jacket in hand. 

“Wait!” Harry followed quickly behind me. I turned to see his excited face and phone in hand. Large hands. I gulped. “Could I get your number? Maybe we could get a drink or something, you were a good laugh a few weeks ago.” I wanted to remind him that we met for a total of five minutes two weeks ago, but I was in too much shock to respond. Instead, and shockingly I might add, I grabbed his phone and entered my number, leaving a tiger emoji next to my name. When I looked up again, he was smiling brightly, putting his big dimple on display. It was truly hard not to smile back. 

“See you later Harry,” I breathed out. As I turned to head out of the door, pulling on my black jacket, I realized that my statement invited him to reach out to me. I wasn’t mad about it. I was terrified though.  

A little rant about witchcraft, Sabrina and Christmas

Some of you may have noticed that I recently took a liking to the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. I only watched the show, but I still plan to read the comic.

And I keep stumbling upon posts made by “modern witches” and “real witches” that claim that Sabrina’s depiction of witchcraft is just pure bullshit and lies. They say that the real witches don’t worship the Devil, that they are a polytheistic religion bowing to no man, that they use their magic for good and not for harm, and that witchcraft is all about women getting together to be strong and not bitching on each other, etc...

Now, I see their point of view and I would agree with them. If only the show was about “modern witchcraft” or people who identify themselves as witches through movements like Wicca or Neo-Paganism. But what people don’t understand, and not only for the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, but also for many other works, is that IT IS NOT ABOUT MODERN WITCHRAFT. It is not about you, modern witches. It is not about neo-paganism. It’s about the old fashioned witchcraft, it’s about the whole European folklore of witches and devil worshiping. 

But what infuriates me a lot, and really a lot, is that these people say “The witches worshipping devil or being evil is a lie invented a long time ago, it is worth nothing and shouldn’t be used ever again. It has no right to be used in a work about witchcraft or witches.”. And that truly pisses me off. 

Of course part of it were lies invented by men and the Church and the powerful people, and to justify witch hunts. Of course it’s something bad, and the source of a big part of hate and persecution. BUT you have to see wider than that. You have to realize that these believes are deeply linked with the European folklore, and were around for several centuries. It has gotten out of the religious domain, to reach the world of fairy tales, of legends, of local folklore. And saying that these centuries of tales, superstitions and folklore doesn’t deserve to exist or to be talked about in works of fiction is a very, very stupid claim. 

To make a comparison, let’s take Christmas (since it’s coming soon). 

Let’s take these people who want to come back to the original, more European,ancient Christmas. These people who bring back the Krampus, the Yule Goat and the Yule Lads. Let’s imagine that these people start saying “The modern Santa Claus is a lie, it was invented by Coca-Cola and other commercial companies, it shouldn’t even exist in the first place, people should stop representing Santa Claus and his little elfes in the North Pole, it’s an insult to the real Christmas.”

You have the right to not like the “modern” Christmas and the “modern” Santa Claus. You have the right to link it to advertisement, to the consumer society, to the over-consumption, to a commercial holiday only made to make people buy toys. 

But are you going to decide to erase more than a century of tales, folklores, movies, cartoons and cultural representations? Are you going to say that nobody has the right to believe in, interpret as or picture Father Christmas as Santa Claus with his little elves and his flying reindeers? Shouldn’t we make movies or books or pictures about Santa Claus living in the North Pole and eating the milk and cookies the children leave for him near the chimney?

It’s the same thing with devil worshipping witches and the new, “modern” ones.

Anyway, sorry again for this rant, but I had to get it out of my system. 

No Control | Chapter Fourteen

Summary: 

Micky Bennett: college student, loyal friend, aspiring nurse, One Direction fan, Harry Styles enthusiast. Her best friend, Trevor, wins tickets to a show in New Jersey with meet and greet passes. Micky expects a quick photo op with the boys and a great night at the concert with her best friend. What she gets a whole lot more than she bargained for.

To read previous chapters, you can go here.

*Please feel free to reblog and send feedback. It’s much appreciated :)*

*Gif is not mine.*

FOURTEEN

After Harry and I’ve showered and redressed, we go back downstairs and cuddle up under the blanket on the couch. I find a film playing on the telly, one that Harry proclaims as one of his favourites, and we settle in, Harry behind me and me between his legs, spread out along the length of the sofa. He’s got his arms wrapped around me and my hands in his, his long fingers playing with my much smaller ones. His thumb absentmindedly twirls the ring he gave me around the base of my own while he watches the screen.

Clouds have completely covered any remnants of the sun, so it’s pretty dark in the room, making it feel a lot later than it is. I stop glancing at the clock sometime around five, content in knowing that my parents will be home soon. I’m nearly falling asleep against Harry, exhausted from earlier and really comfortable to have him wrapped around me. 

The film ends and Harry stirs behind me, jolting me out of my half-asleep haze. His fingers tap at my hands to get my attention.

“Can you get up, love? Just need to run to the loo.”

I shuffle myself away from him so he can stand. “There’s one by the back door, just through the kitchen.” He nods and drops down to press a kiss to my forehead before disappearing into the other part of the house.

I sigh and rub my hands over my face to try to wake myself up. I can’t be taking a nap at half past five; I’ll never sleep tonight if that happens. I force myself off the couch so that I can’t possibly fall asleep and busy myself with tidying up our mugs from earlier. When I’m going back into the living room from the kitchen, I hear the front door open up. My mum walks through, a confused look on her face, head tilting back over her shoulder before she shuts the door.

“Mick?” she calls out, not having seen me. 

“Yeah, Mum?” I ask, watching her toe her shoes off and drop her purse on the coatrack by the door.

She looks up, a little surprised to see me so close, and shrugs out of her jumper. “Have you seen this black Range Rover parked out front? How long has it been there? Are one of your friends over? Where has Georgie gone?”

My mother has always done this thing where she rapid-fire asks several questions, not giving you a chance to answer a single one of them, and then looks at you, exasperated, for not having answered them quickly enough. It used to be extremely annoying to me when I was younger, but I soon got used to it, and started just trying to catalog each question she asked so I could get to it when she finally eased up.

Before I can answer though, I hear Harry come up behind me through the kitchen walkway.

“Sorry, Cindy, that’s mine. Been here a few hours,” he says, being completely nonchalant about the fact that he’s in my house

My mother’s eyes widen and her mouth drops open just a little as she takes in his presence. I wasn’t joking when I said my mother was a big fan. I can see the wheels turning in her head and deciding how to handle this situation: Either become a teenage girl for a few seconds and squeal over having Harry Styles in her house, or be the mature, confident adult that she is and greet him graciously and welcome him to her home.

Thankfully, she chooses the latter, closing her mouth and turning it into a warm smile. “Harry, good to see you, sweetheart.” She sounds like she’s greeting any of my friends, and I can feel Harry soaking it up next to me. She rounds the couch and comes over to pull him into a hug, which he accepts heartily, smiling at me over her head. He mouths to me, ‘Your mum’s fit,’ and I roll my eyes at him. His grin just widens.

“Micky didn’t tell us you were in the UK,” she says once they’ve broken apart. She flits into the kitchen to start dinner, and Harry and I follow her.

“I didn’t know until this afternoon,” I tell her. Mum had plans to make a pasta dish, so I help her get ingredients out of the cupboard and fridge. 

“Are you staying tonight, love?” Mum asks, looking over at Harry where he’s sat at the bar.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Of course, Harry. We love the company. It’s usually just me and Vinny now. Nice to have a full house again. You like pasta?”

“Love it,” he agrees.

“Is Tommy coming over tonight?” I ask, sincerely hoping he’s got to be in at the club early.

It appears I’m out of luck, though. “Yeah, he’s got the night off. Tuesday’s are slow, unless there’s a show at the O2.”

“No show tonight?” I ask, hoping maybe he’ll be called in to help out. Its not that I don’t love my brother, I just know how he is whenever I’ve brought guys round the house. Harry and I aren’t dating; I don’t need Tommy getting the wrong idea and going full Spanish Inquisition on the poor lad.

“No, they’re doing some sort of work on it. Getting ready for the end of summer shows, I s’pose.”

“Our dates are the firsts ones back after the fixes,” Harry helpfully adds. “Do you need help with dinner?”

“That’d be lovely,” Mum agrees. “Mick’s shit at cooking.”

“Hey!” I yelp, and both Harry and my mum laugh. “Not nice.”

“It’s the truth, Mick.”

“Truth hurts,” Harry nods.

“Oh, shut it.”

Harry and my mother flit around the kitchen, putting together the different elements of tonight’s dinner, working pretty seamlessly together in our kitchen. I sit on the stools and chat with them while they work, apparently banned from offering any help. When I initially pout, Harry chuckles and comes over to press a lingering kiss to my shoulder and then my cheek. I almost miss the sly little grin on my mum’s face, since I was admiring the way Harry pulls his hair up into a bun, before she turns around to face the stove.

They talk about how Harry’s tour’s going and their excitement for the European leg of the tour that goes on until nearly Christmas. Harry tells her about their impending new album that’s not to be set to release until November, but they’re planning promo for it already. Mum tells him about her time growing up in the seventies and how music has changed since then. She regales him with tales about the shit her and my dad got into back in the day, including the raunchy stuff I didn’t really learn about until I was well into secondary. Harry laughs hard when she tells him about getting chased down by security outside a Fleetwood Mac concert for stealing a groupie’s blow and then getting high with my dad and one of they friends, which resulted in an apparently legendary threesome (ew).

Sometime around six, the front door opens again, and my dad’s heavy footfalls echo through the house.

“Mick? Cindy? Who’s car is that out front? Because I don’t remember getting Mick a new car. And I haven’t been high enough in the last ten years to warrant that type of blackout.”

I shake my head as Harry laughs. 

“That’s Harry’s car, dear,” my mum calls back. I can hear my dad dropping his keys into the little bowl by the front door and his jacket being shrugged off.

“Harry who? Do we have new neighbors?”

Mum chuckles. “No, darling. Just come into the kitchen.”

“Smells good, sweetheart.” Dad enters the kitchen and greets my mum with a kiss on the head and a sweet look. I used to hate seeing them affectionate as a kid, but as an adult I can appreciate the love they have for each other and how they still flirt after nearly thirty years of marriage. 

Dad looks up and sees Harry, who’s stirring the pasta sauce at the stove while it simmers. He looks up at my father, who’s squinting like he’s trying to put together where he recognizes him from. Dad has an awful memory when it comes to names (I reckon it’s from all the blow he did back in the day), and I know he recognizes Harry’s face—it was only plastered all over my walls for a few years, there.

“You’re that Styles lad, right?” he finally asks. Harry nods. My dad grins, happy to have remembered a name to put to his face. He extends his hand and Harry accepts it. “Good to meet you, mate.”

“You, too, sir.”

My dad grimaces, and my mum and I laugh. My dad hates being called sir by anyone other than his employees. Says it makes him feel old. “Please don’t call me ‘sir.’ I will answer to anything other than ‘sir.’ Call me ‘dickhead’ for all I care. Just not ‘sir.’”

Harry does that laugh he does when he’s taken off guard, eyes widening and grin a half-grimace. “Yeah, alright. Sorry, mate.”

Dad nods once. “Better. So, what brings you to our neck of the woods?” He gives mum another kiss to the head before coming over to press one to mine in greeting.

“I actually live in Holmes Chapel,” Harry says, going back to stirring. “Well, my family does. I’ve got a house in London, but I haven’t seen my mum in a while, so I came this way first.”

“Grew up in Cheshire?” 

“Yeah. Moved around a bit, but we mostly stayed in Holmes Chapel.”

Dad and Harry go on talking about where he’s from and how he still prefers to be in Cheshire when he can as opposed to staying by himself in London. I can’t help but smile seeing my family taking so well to Harry and him seeming like he’s incredibly comfortable being here. I always knew Harry was a good guy and my parents liked him from a musical standpoint, but it’s nice seeing them interact with him on a personal level, a level I’ve gotten to experience and get to love rather quickly. It’s quite easy to separate Harry Styles from what I’ve dubbed as Harry Edward, and I find myself incredibly lucky to be able to learn this part of him.

While Mum and Dad are trying to decide what wine would pair best with tonight’s dinner, Harry’s got me in his lap in one of the barstools, playing with my hair and holding me around the waist as I tell him about my parents’ extensive wine collection. I’m perched quite comfortably, and he smells amazing despite his cologne having washed off during our shower. His hair smells like my shampoo, but he still smells like him underneath. It’s sort of warm and clean and I swear that the mint from the gum he’s constantly chewing has just embedded itself in his being. 

We’re all so preoccupied that we completely miss the opening of the front door, and the next thing I hear is a very annoyed, “Oi, what the fuck?”

All of our heads snap up to the entryway, where an angry-looking Tommy is stood. His normally (I begrudgingly admit) handsome face is puckered in a mix of confusion and anger as his eyes travel between Harry and me, taking in how Harry’s hand has slipped under the hem of the jumper I changed into earlier and where my hands are under the sleeves of his shirt, flitting my fingers along the smooth skin of his shoulders. 

Instead of answering to Tommy’s outburst, I say, “Harry, this is my brother, Tommy. Tom, this is Harry St—”

“I know who the fuck he is, Mick. His face is plastered on every fucking telly station and gossip rag around here. Not to mention you’ve been obsessed with him since you were fifteen.” I’ve actually never seen Tommy this upset, and it’s a little bit unnerving. My natural reaction normally would be to shirk away from his raised voice, but I’m pissed at him for being such a dick for no reason, so I lash back instead.

“Tommy,” my father begins in a warning tone that I’ve only ever heard a handful of times in my whole life. He only uses it when he’s serious and we’ve completely stepped out of line, which is a testament to how big of a twat my brother is being at the moment.

“Asshole, how ‘bout you shut the fuck up, hm? You’re being a dickhead for no fucking reason,” I tell him, getting myself up from Harry’s lap. I feel him reach out and hook a finger through the back belt loop, probably as a precaution so I don’t get into a physical altercation with my brother, which is a total possibility between the two of us. “If you’re that upset about me sitting with him, a simple, ‘Hey, mate, mind letting go of my sister?’ would have sufficed. No need to come out shouting like a fucking cunt, you twat.”

“Ohh-kay,” I hear Harry mumble behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me back to him. His presence is comforting and helps dim down my anger a little bit, but I’m still glaring at Tommy, who looks a little ashamed now.  

“Enough, the both of yeh,” my dad insists, giving us a hard look. “Tommy, apologize to your sister for being a twat. And Mick, apologize to Tom for calling him so many names.”

I hold back my snicker at my father’s agreement about Tommy’s behavior, not wanting the situation to elevate again, but I feel Harry’s chest rumble against my back slightly, and his face is in my hair, probably hiding a smirk. 

Tommy takes a deep breath and lets it out in whoosh, his shoulders obviously relaxing after his exhale. “Sorry, Mick. I’ve just been in a shit mood. Didn’t mean to take it out on you and your boy toy.”

I glare at him and my dad clears his throat pointedly.

“Didn’t mean to take it out on you and Harry,” he amends, grudgingly.

“And I’m sorry I called you so many names,” I apologize. “Except for cunt. I think you deserved that one, coming in here guns blazing.”

Tommy cracks a smirk. “Fair.”

“Alright, now that’s settled, Tom, help me set the table,” Mum directs. Tommy sighs but moves to gather bowls from her hands to take to the dining table in the other room.

“I’m sorry about that,” I say, turning in Harry’s arms. “Love him to bits, but Tommy can be the biggest arse when he’s in a mood.”

“That’s alright, love,” Harry smiles. “He’s your brother; I get it. I’ve got a sister of my own, you know.” He leans down and presses a chaste kiss to my lips, only lingering long enough to make a slight smacking sound. “Now, c’mon. Let’s help.”

As we’re all carrying stuff from the kitchen to the dining room to set the table, the front door opens once more, and I know exactly who it is this time.

“Hello, Bennetts,” Georgie greets exaggeratedly, flinging off her jacket onto the back of a couch. Our dining room flows right into the living room, so we all watch her walk in and join us. “And Styles,” she adds with a little nod when she sees Harry pulling out my chair for me.

“Georgie, good to see you, sweetheart,” my mum greets, placing a kiss on my friend’s cheek and directing her to a free seat. 

“You too, Cindy. What’re we having tonight?”

“Don’t your parents ever want you home for dinner? I feel like we’ve been feeding you for the last ten years,” Tommy teases. He very quickly fell into the older brother role for Georgie when I first brought her home, and they banter back and forth just as much as he and I do.

“It’s been eleven—get your maths sorted, mate—and no, they don’t. They’re not even home tonight. Haven’t been home all day. Been sat alone in my house for hours, watching way too much Netflix.” Georgie takes her seat next to Tommy, right across from me. My parents sit at each end of the table, my mum closest to me, and my dad sat by Harry.

“Why didn’t you just stay here, love?” Mum asks. “Mick and Harry have been here.”

“Needed to take a mo’ and come to grips with actually being in his presence. Lucky I didn’t scream when I met him earlier. And I figured I’d give the two some time alone. Didn’t exactly want to be here when they started shagging, yeah?”

The nonchalance with which Georgie mentions Harry and I having sex in front of my family should be alarming, but it’s pretty typical dinner talk around here. I just give her a pointed look while Harry chokes on the sip of wine he barely got past his lips, nearly spitting it back into the glass. He eventually gets it choked down while being stared at pretty hard by Tommy and silently laughed at by my parents. I rub his back in what I hope is comforting movements.

“Jesus,” he huffs, voice hoarse from his coughing fit.

“If you haven’t noticed by now, we’re pretty open in this house,” my dad points out, reaching to serve himself.

“Well, Mum opened up with the story of a threesome you had after a Fleetwood Mac concert, so I think he knows,” I offer.

Dad smiles and nods as he remembers the events. “That was a good night. I fucking loved the seventies.”

“We’re not afraid of the topics of sex and drugs ‘round here,” Tommy offers, taking the bowl from Dad.

“Just didn’t think we’d ever be discussing my sex life,” Harry shrugs, dabbing at his lips with a napkin. 

Tommy mutters something under his breath that I don’t catch but Georgie apparently does, given the way she chortles behind her wine glass. I know it’s got something to do with Harry, so I hope everyone will ignore it and just let it pass, but my mum wasn’t paying attention, and asks, “What was that, Tommy?”

“Don’t you dare. He’s a guest,” I warn. “Please be an adult for, like, two hours, Tom. You’re only a few years shy of thirty; please, for the love of God, act it for once.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing against him,” he promises in a smarmy tone. “Definitely embarrassing for you, though.”

“And everyone wonders why I don’t bring guys around.”

We get through dinner without anymore conversation about Harry’s sex life, which I think he’s thankful for. During dinner, though, Georgie texts me and tells me what it was that Tommy said under his breath earlier.

��Don’t worry, we’ve been discussing your sex life since 2011 around here.”

Georgie catches my eye roll from across the table and subtly shrugs as if to say, ‘he’s not wrong.’ Which is true, to be fair, but Harry doesn't need to know about that.

When we’ve finished, Georgie and I clean dishes and my dad and Tommy dry and put them away, while my Mum sorts out left overs. Harry gets a call at some point while we’re all in the kitchen and disappears outside to take it. 

“He’s really lovely, Mick,” Mum says, giving me a smile as she bumps her hip against mine. “He’s a keeper, for sure.”

“We’re not together, Mum,” I tell her quickly. 

She quirks an eyebrow at me, disbelieving. “So what are you, then?”

“We’ve known each other less than a week. We’re getting to know each other. We enjoy each other’s company.”

“I know I come from the generation of casual sex, but fuck buddies don’t usually meet each other’s families, right? Or did I miss something?”

“Mum, it’s not a big deal. It’s not abnormal for friends to hook up.”

“True,” Georgie adds in, nodding. “Been sleeping with my psychology study buddy. It’s all really laid back now.”

Mum high fives Georgie but turns back to me with pursed lips. “All I’m saying, Mick, is that that boy looks at you like rainbows come out of your arse. The heart eyes he’s got when he’s around you don’t scream ‘casual sex’ to me.”

“What would you like me to do about it? The man is on tour. He’s one-fourth of the biggest boy band in the world. None of that seems very practical for the start of a relationship other than friendship.”

She shrugs and pets my hair back from my face in a move of sympathy. “I don’t know, darling. But you should probably discuss that with him, yeah?”

Harry’s still outside on the phone when we’re done cleaning up from dinner, so I head out there to see what’s going on. The temperature has dropped significantly, and I can feel goosebumps rise on my legs as soon as I step past the threshold. My jumper is large on me, so I tuck my hands into the sleeves to preserve some of my warmth. 

Harry is leaning against one of the pillars that holds up the front of my house, just in his t-shirt still, his free hand stuck in the front pocket of his jeans. I trail my hand up his arm to let him know I’m there, and I can feel his own flesh raised in bumps from the chill. He smiles down at me as I saddle up beside him, dropping a kiss to the top of my head as he listens to whoever’s on the other end. I wait patiently with my head tilted against his bicep as I listen to him hum and give short answers.

After a few moments, it seems the conversation is finally winding down, and he actually says his goodbyes. We stand quietly beside each other, looking up at the stars shining in the dark sky. Harry wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me to cuddle into his side.

“Mum’s insisting you stay tonight. Doesn’t want you driving back after the glasses of wine.”

Harry nods but doesn’t offer any other sort of answer, just stays silently looking up at the sky, eyes darting around every so often. We’re so quiet for so long that I’m a little startled when he finally speaks.

“Mum won’t be home till tomorrow evening, so we can spend the day together, if you want.”

“Of course,” I agree. “I’d love to. Weather’s supposed to be nice again.”

“Then come to Holmes Chapel with me Thursday morning?” There’s a vulnerability to his voice that I haven’t heard. He’s still looking up at the sky, almost refusing to meet my gaze. “Mum wants to meet you. And I like having you around.”

I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, threatening to split my face in two. “How long will we be staying?” I ask by way of answer.

Harry finally looks at me, face still a bit apprehensive, but I can see the beginnings of a smile. “Just the day. But then I was thinking we could go to London for a few days. Want to see some mates.”

“Just tell me what I need to pack.”

His smile widens, his teeth showing and his dimples sinking into his cheeks. “We’ll go over it tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Harry leans down and kisses me, long and sweet with emotions I don’t even want to try to decode. And it’s in that moment that I realize I’d follow this man anywhere.

FIFTEEN

Swiss Time - Chapter One

**Hey guys - here’s the next tale.  It’s going to be a long one … slow and steady.  I hope you like it. :-)  Another thank you to @ladygrange for getting me past a roadblock and providing the perfect title!!  What would I do without you? <3**

March 1, 1970

Montreux, Switzerland

She was nearly asleep, seduced by the steady hum of wheels on tracks racing to meet their schedule.  On time.  Always on time.  Trains never failed to make her feel that way.  Comfortable and drowsy.  Her aunt’s voice filled the compartment.

“So, what do you think?”  

Natalie’s eyes blinked open, taking in a blur of alpine white through the sheet of glass in front of her.

“Well?”

The word had garnered a bit of an edge.  She can tell I’ve been daydreaming. “I’m not sure, Aunt Sue.”

“What do you mean, you’re not sure.  This is costing us a lot of money.”

Nat’s gaze flickered back to the whirling landscape.  Us?  She means Christian.  There was no way she was going to say it out loud, though; that would only serve to pique Susan’s anger.  “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.  I just need a little time to process everything.”  There was a skeptical hum in the back of her aunt’s throat as her mouth twisted, but she appeared to give up, at least for the moment, reclining into the leather bench seat.

Truth be told, Natalie didn’t need a little time to process everything.  It was all perfectly clear.  She’d been sent off.  Admittedly, there were worse places than a boarding school outside of Montreux, but the fact was, they’d given up on her.  At the ripe old age of fifteen.  Almost fifteen.  She couldn’t really blame them.  They weren’t prepared to be parents.  And she wasn’t prepared to be a kid.  It was an old joke in the family that she’d been born at the age of thirty, and she was beginning to believe they were right.  She made things difficult, and that wouldn’t do.  You’re lucky, and you know it.  Embrace the change.  Hell, you might even like it.  No longer content with the silence, her aunt began to shift in her seat, tapping a magazine against her leg as she reached for her cigarettes.  

“Christian’s got some guests coming tomorrow.”

Guests.  Natalie watched a ribbon of smoke trail through the air.  She’d been staying with Susan in a suite he’d procured for them in the hotel next to the casino.  It had only been a little over a week, but it was enough to catch on.  Guests almost always meant musicians.  Or people attached to them.  Christian had made quite a name for himself with the jazz festival he’d begun a few years before.  It had grown like wildfire, and he deserved the success.  He was a smart, kind man, endlessly fascinating to chat with and completely in love with her aunt.  For a brief moment, Natalie found herself wondering how many of the guests she’d slept with.  Maybe none.  Hopefully none.  Christian deserved better than that.

“Well, aren’t you going to ask who it is, Nat?”

Her tone was excited, expectant.  It’s a band. And she must know them.  Natalie stayed silent a beat longer and was rewarded with an impatient scowl.  I wasn’t born at thirty.  I was born at fifty.  Snickering to herself, she gave in.  “Who is it, Sue?  Wait, let me guess.  The Stones?”  Her aunt shook her head as the corner of her mouth curled up.  “Pink Floyd?”

“Keep going.”

She was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and Natalie held up her hands in defeat.  “I really don’t know … just tell me.”

“Well, the singer’s about the most gorgeous man on the planet.”

She still has it, Nat mused, taking in Susan’s glowing smile.  The years had been kind to her.  She still looked twenty years old.  Her mother had glossed over the wild tales about her much younger sister’s dalliances with certain music men, but when Susan got a buzz, she’d always regale her with the full details.  Somehow, Natalie never felt shocked and was pretty sure that annoyed her aunt, as the stories inevitably grew more and more salacious.  The woman was a legend among the groupie circuit, although she hated the term “groupie,” much preferring the term “friend.”  Oh, she was a friend alright, a friend with benefits.  When she’d met Christian, sheer happenstance on one of his visits to New York, she’d given it all up, delighted to be whisked away to Lake Geneva to hobnob with entertainment stars and other high profile people.  At the clearing of her throat, Natalie realized she was daydreaming again.

“So, aren’t you excited?  They’re about to be the biggest band in the world!”

“I’m sorry, who did you say?”

“Good lord, Nat, get out of your head.  It’s Led Zeppelin, for heaven’s sake.”

Natalie knew of them, even listened to a few of their songs, courtesy of her best guy friend in the neighborhood.  Old neighborhood, she reminded herself.  “I’ve heard them.”

“They’re good, aren’t they?”

Nat nodded. They were pretty good.  But a little weird, too.  Kind of mysterious.  What had Will said that night?  They were into some heavy, dark stuff, dangerous, even.  He’d been pretty stoned, though.  She put it out of her mind as the train began to slow.  Our stop.

“Tres agreable!” Bonzo bellowed, supremely amused by his prowess with the French language.  

Or lack, thereof, Robert decided as he shook his head, exchanging a look with Jimmy.  It was the only phrase the drummer knew, and he seemed compelled and certainly content to repeat it over and over.  “Right, Bonz, we get it, tres agreable.”  The singer couldn’t suppress his chuckle as his friend roared with laughter, calling out for another drink.

Montreux.  It was their first visit to the Alpine city, and Robert had to admit he’d been looking forward to it.  A week’s vacation skiing, sledding and perhaps some other activities sounded like the perfect respite before it was back to the States.  After a quick stop in Germany, anyway.  Ahmet had set up a meeting with the band and Christian Rohner, the renowned European promoter and founder of the famous jazz festival the city hosted.  It was only in its fourth year, but it was already blowing up.  As a lovely blonde entered the dining car, he drained his glass.  Yeah, Montreux will do very nicely.   

“Let’s go, lads.  Grab your things.  This is it.”    

At Peter’s directive, Robert snatched up his bag, grimacing at the blanket of icy air that enveloped him as he stepped off the train.  Shivering, he tightened his coat around his shoulders.  At least they were on time.  You could always count on the Swiss for that.  “Bloody hell, it’s cold, man.  I thought it was supposed to be warmer here.”

“Yeah, Cole, where’s the bloody car, mate?” Bonzo grumbled, the heat from his breath forming puffy clouds of steam.  “I’m freezin’ me fuckin’ …”

“Quit your whining and start walkin’!” G boomed, following Richard’s lead as they filed across the platform.  “Hotel’s right next door.”

Robert dutifully squelched his complaint, stopping to light a cigarette.  While unseasonably cool, it was pretty, and after all, he’d certainly been in worse conditions.  With a backward glance at the train as it pulled away, he strode toward the station’s entrance.

“Watch where you’re going!“

Small hands pressed against his chest, pushing him back, and he spun around, an apology on his lips.  “Christ, I’m sorry, I …” He trailed off as he took in the young girl he’d nearly trampled.  She was a slight thing with long, dark hair, and big, dark eyes that were studying him intently.  And disapprovingly, he determined, doing his best to quell his grin.  Even with a frown, she was cute, nearly pretty, but in a quiet, understated way.  Like a child.  Bloody hell, she probably is.  Her eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second, and he was sure he’d met her before.  Or someone like her.  She speaks English … probably American.  He opened his mouth to begin where he’d left off, but she darted away, wrangling open the heavy glass doors and scurrying into the station.  He stood mute, watching her coast nimbly through the crowd.  She was calling out to someone, but it was lost in the throng.

“Robert, come on!”

Jimmy’s admonishment cut through the din, and the singer nodded, jogging to catch up with the rest of them.  He scanned the cavernous room for the girl one last time, but she was gone.

Grateful for the cozy warmth of the suite, Natalie slipped off her coat, hanging it neatly in the closet by the front door.  She shook her head, sending icy droplets across her shoulders.  Vowing to wear a hat next time, she padded to the window, mesmerized by the view.  The snow was thick and heavy, an unusual occurrence for the town, according to Christian.  She watched it take possession of the network of sidewalks around the hotel while she peeled off her boots.  The whole scene seemed enchanted, from the pristine swaths of white nestling into the ornate architecture of the buildings next door to the steely blue-green of now quiet Lake Geneva.  It was mystical, like nothing at home, and it dawned on her that she wasn’t sad anymore.  In fact, she felt kind of happy.  An alien emotion to be sure, but there it was.  Her smile was short-lived as she caught a glimpse of herself in the tall gilded mirror next to the fireplace.  God, I’m a mess.  Suddenly, she longed for nothing more than a cup of hot tea and a long bath.  She was about to announce her intentions when the phone began to ring.

“I’ll get it,” Susan called out from the bowels of her bedroom.

Natalie dropped onto the sofa, working the thin cotton socks from her frozen feet as she recalled the day.  Christian had offered to teach her how to ski, but duty had called in the form of a meeting with the headmaster of what would be her new school.  Maybe tomorrow.  She stretched her legs, wriggling her toes in hopes of feeling them again as her thoughts wandered back to the man at the train station.  Very tall, long hair … strange looking guy but kind of familiar in a weird way.  More soft spoken than I expected.  He’d sounded English, but who knew.  Everyone around her seemed to speak at least three languages.  She made a mental note to work on her French.

“Well, it looks like you’re my dinner date.”

There goes my long bath.  Natalie stifled her sigh.  “What happened to Christian?  Was that him on the phone?”

Susan nodded, perusing the array of wine in the fridge at the bar.  “Yes, says he has some last minute business to attend to.  That it can’t wait.”  She peeked her head over the top of the door.  “He told me to take you out for your birthday, and that he’ll try to meet us later.”  

“But it’s not for a few weeks.”  

She shrugged as she made her selection.  “Why not start celebrating early?  Have you ever had Champagne?”  

Not waiting for an answer, Susan peeled the foil from the cork, twisting the wire cage that surrounded it.  Nat jumped at the mighty pop, much to her aunt’s delight.  She plucked two stemmed flutes from the overhead rack and laid them on the coffee table.  Natalie watched transfixed as the shimmering liquid filled the crystal, nearly trickling over.  She had an expert hand, though, pouring just enough, then a bit more, until the bubbles were gently popping into the air above the rim.  

“I take it that’s a no?” Susan asked, her lips coiling mischievously.

“Yes, I mean, no, I mean, yes, you’re right.  I’ve never had it.”  Natalie had never had anything to drink, save for a very hot, very disgusting beer, once again, courtesy of her old friend Will.  Susan held up her flute, motioning for Nat to do the same, and she followed suit, clinking hers against her aunt’s a bit too loudly.  

“Careful, darling, these are expensive.”

“Sorry,” Natalie muttered, bringing the glass to her lips.  The fizz of the bubbles against her mouth sort of tickled.

“Well, cheers!  Bottoms up, doll,” Susan chirped, downing her champagne in one fell swoop.

Again, Natalie followed suit, erupting into a coughing fit as the bubbles turned traitor, burning all the way down her throat.  She finally caught her breath as her aunt’s laugh waned.

“Let’s try it one more time, shall we?”  Susan poured another round, this time sipping genteelly.  Nat did the same, feeling her head begin to spin.  It was pleasant, though, warm and fuzzy.  “Do you like it?” Sue asked, giving her a knowing smile.

“Yeah, I do,” Natalie whispered with a snicker.  At what, she had no idea.

“You’ve got a little buzz.”  Susan’s smile morphed into a grin.  “Come on, let’s get ready.”  

Nat attempted to stand but wobbled instead.  “Where are we going again?”

“To dinner, silly,“ Sue chided, pulling her up with a flourish.  “Have you ever thought about wearing makeup?”  

Natalie struggled to keep up as they made their way down the hall.  “Not really.”

Susan turned, giving her a wink.  “You will tonight.  Let’s have some fun.”

Loves Me Loves Me Not - The Halloween not-so-special

Onwards!

German Error Message - What Welcoming

https://soundcloud.com/germanerrormessage/what-welcoming/s-Ob13f

It’s like in your teens sneaking back home late at night after you’ve been out and up to no good. But your parents aren’t waiting with angry glances and harsh words, they put out milk and cookies for you, right next to your bed, so you can just tug in and dream of sweet nothing. If you’ve listened to some of the solo-stuff done by Angus Stone on his Dope Lemons records and you liked it, this will soothe your ears too.

Dilary Huff - Overused Sayings

https://soundcloud.com/deviltowntapes/dilary-huff-overused-sayings

What the fuck is going on in Australia these days? and why are none of all these bands touring Europe? Somethings wrong. Nothing’s wrong in this track though, Dilary and the gang are clearly too busy and preoccupied to mind about your emotions. Or maybe they’re singing about us Europeans, we’ve got enough in the lattes and sausages. I’m sorry gang of Huffs, we will put down the crepes. This reminds me of a newer version of Velvet Underground stuff, smothered in the 00s indie jangles. Vocals hint at Sonic Youth, especially towards the end - too many good references for you not to listen to this tune!

Yune - Ørkensangen

https://soundcloud.com/crunchy-frog/yune-orkensangen-radio-edit/s-nbYf5

Yune is a band that hasn’t put out anything in a long time, people were waiting, they been trippin’ in the desert, luckily what they came back with was this extremely pleasant hybrid of Khruangbin and Tame Impala. The fucking guitars sound amazing in this - if nothing at all, you need to listen to this tune solely for the guitars and I promise you’ll be satisfied. Solid work, solid delivery, thank you gents. Somewhere I bet this track is going to be the anthem for getting lost or sidetracked - for a while, if your walking the deserts or just camping.

El Lago - Pyramid

https://soundcloud.com/ellagoband/pyramid

I love the vocals on this track - it’s the nice parts of Björk but in a Mazzy Star world, how can that not be a solid winner? Band plays amazing, the right amount of sloppyness but not too much, just that proper laid back feel. And the vocals - don’t get me started on the vocals. I would stay in a bubble-bath even after the water got cold if I had this in my ears. The most lovely part for me personally is how they somehow cross it over to Sonic Youth landscape halfway through the song and ads another feel to the tune. Can’t wait to hear more from this bunch <3

Quality Living - Pretty Down

https://soundcloud.com/tryqualityliving/pretty-down-2

Don’t mind the dorky intro - it’s on purpose - you’re not at a bad blues-jam bar. I’m not entirely sure how to label this - I mean, it mostly reminds me of all those amazing theme songs that cam out between the 60s-00s. I fucking loved those tunes, you’d get hammered and put them on in a row creating a strange game of guessing which belonged to what show. One thing’s for certain - I would definitely want to check this show out. I’m thinking something with Buddhist Dolphins trying to change the world for the better - but they’re not turning the other cheek - they’re letting the fuckers have it! When’s the video coming guys? <3

Glitter Party - Moonrise

https://open.spotify.com/track/3eTBJrYEpmyz7wbF4A1h1a

This is truly something Kevin Parker would have been doing before the first Tame Impale album came out. You cannot do anything but love the fuzz on these guitars, amazingly soothing! It’s very diy in the mix, but it works and I’d be happy anticipating what could come out of these lads in the future.

Typsy Pantre - Bluebird Blues

https://soundcloud.com/user-411219329/02-bluebird-blues/s-8TpDM

Wonderful use of drony bass synths and monotone vocals - I don’t think I’ve heard it done so well in a long time. It has a dorky vibe, yet very dream-pop’ish, but never crossing over into shitty country, which is a relief - they’re keeping it pretty real. I could see this tune being in one of the early Quentin Tarantino movies. Check it out

Eyedress - I Don’t Wanna Be Your Friend

https://soundcloud.com/eyedress/i-dont-wanna-be-your-friend

I don’t think I’ve ever reviewed something out of the Philippines - I can happily say that this is now not the case anymore. I’m wondering what the scene is over there? This track reminds me mostly of something that has been made in the basement of a ravehouse of Berlin, the guys who fucking hate those all night dancers and just want to fucking make music and not sweet their ass of in glitter. In every sense this is the kind of magic you could only hope for can come out of a home-setup and someone just figuring out how the hell Garage Band works. It’s odd, in the right way. Thank you for that !

Mainland Break - Gun Without Hire

Diy road well driven once more - it’s the diy roadtrip you’ve been waiting for. The push of this reminds me of Pixies records, vocals are hinting at this as well - there’s gotta be some inspiration there? but I would venture to say I really do miss more bands with Pixies-like qualities - where are they all? Well atleast I’ve found one here - looking forward to what else might come from these gents!

Lucid World - Here

https://soundcloud.com/user-122842934/2-here/s-VpSF1

Lets end this on a different note today - we cover few electronic tracks, but as you know, every now and again there’s something you can’t let pass. Here by Lucid World is one of those tracks, its so damn simple and it makes it so so so soothing. I’m not in need of any other plans today but to just bring this to the nearest rooftop or hilltop, maybe bring a sixpack or bottle of rosé and just gaze, just fucking gaze. Maybe dress up as a Sheep Herder or something since it’s Halloween and I wouldn’t want to not fit in, right? ;)

Take care everyone, remember to be nice to your next

Janis & Jimmy

Janis: 😒 Janis: already sick of 'em and they ain't even here yet Jimmy: 🎻 Jimmy: Them or Gracie, like? Janis: 🔨📍on the head there Janis: being such a twat and dad's made enough tapas to sink several ships Janis: coming here to experience our culture, not their own imitated, ffs Jimmy: If I put on an accent can I grab some of that? Jimmy: Starving here Janis: as long as you lisp at grace that she looks fine Janis: about to facetime you Janis: so important, obviously Jimmy: Coming here to experience our culture, mate 👍 Janis: who's culture now? Jimmy: Grace's by the sounds Jimmy: You can leave her too it after a quick hola Jimmy: You should be #buzzing Janis: yeah, great as it is she's offering herself up for entertainment Janis: still gonna be a random twat in my gaff for however long it even is Janis: do the school do background checks? doubt it Janis: could be a murderer, or from a family of murderers and he's scoping us out for when we turn up with our spanglish Jimmy: It's alright, you can come and be the random twat in my gaff Jimmy: 😂 Jimmy: Can't handle it? 💪 Ultimate challenge to accept, that is Jimmy: 🥊💀 Janis: so sweet 💘 Janis: let's face it, better taking my chances with them than with your dad, ain't I Jimmy: Bring 'em round they'll soon wanna pack up and do one Jimmy: Can't get a warmer welcome Janis: At least we live in a fucking city Janis: googled where they're from earlier Janis: middle of fucking nowhere doesn't cover it Janis: been stitched up big time lads Jimmy: Unlucky Jimmy: You'd have been better off coming on a trip down memory lane to my old Northern haunts. Least we aren't pretending its nowt but shite Janis: Seriously Janis: do my report on all the weird shit you so Janis: more 🤔 than spanish tbh Jimmy: #realtalk Jimmy: When they showing themselves? Time wise, not for the twats they are, like, that'll be immediate Janis: Ha, we're picking 'em up tonight, let them have a day off tomorrow before they have to join us in hell, like Janis: Pablo reckons he's already scoped out the decents girls, if you would like that list forwarded to you, sure it can be arranged Jimmy: I was gonna ask if I could see you but there's a better offer if I ever heard one Jimmy: Tah mate Janis: he's just shouted his snapchat handle down the stairs Janis: such a delight Jimmy: Here's hoping he can get some lasses to agree or 💔🎻 Janis: love to reckon the spanish girls have got a bit more about 'em than the locals Janis: but i ain't the optimistic one Jimmy: Either way, unlucky for him or Grace Jimmy: Gonna be a laff finding out who'll come out the winner Janis: yeah, it's the little things, ain't it babe Janis: one of us needs to be not 😖🔫 about it Jimmy: aww mate Janis: I know Janis: tragic Janis: all I wanted was the easy pass and a ticket outta here Jimmy: Let's go then Jimmy: Can't get in the shit for not being a welcome wagon if they can't find you Janis: Ha, where? Janis: Nowhere in Dubo far away enough that I won't get dragged back in order to save my last shred of good manners Jimmy: Can just drive, can't we? Jimmy: See where the road takes us Janis: sounding so dad rock babe 😘 Janis: better not, gracie would fucking love that Jimmy: Piss off. Was gonna sing you a power ballad but now you can whistle Jimmy: Yeah, good reason as any then Janis: aww please 🙏 Jimmy: Come find me and I'll think about it Janis: Playing hide and seek now? Janis: honestly, the europeans are coming and you've gone all melodramatic and fruity Jimmy: 😂 Jimmy: Only in my second home, aren't I? Jimmy: Your true love makes better decisions than you, happy to run off with me she was Janis: Don't wanna do her down 'cos she's suddenly competition but she'd go with anyone with a pocketful of treats Janis: #jussayin #truthtea #scalding Jimmy: Don't need to be telling me, you're the one 😍💕 I've always seen her for the bitch she is Janis: Yeah well you're as bad as I am, according to general consensus here 🤷 Jimmy: You what? Jimmy: Who's chatting shit about me now Janis: 😂 Janis: no need to 🥊 up quite yet Janis: when ur biggest fan turns Janis: knew it couldn't last forever Jimmy: when she isn't excited about the Spanish lads, just how busy you'll be with 'em Jimmy: still trying to snatch me #long game Janis: oh mate Janis: ain't gonna deflate your massive head to bring you down, like Janis: sure that's the master plan Jimmy: 😎 Janis: come at me then fucking... Janis: rodrigo and Janis: juan Jimmy: I'm pissing myself Jimmy: Just shit up some random nan Jimmy: Hope she isn't a mate of yours Janis: The grey hair massive Janis: you'll find out soon enough 👊 Jimmy: 💪 ready as I'm gonna be Janis: don't tell her i've been training you Janis: the betrayal Jimmy: Strong, silent type, me Janis: 😏 code for moody twat if i've ever heard it Jimmy: Oi Janis: 💞 Jimmy: You better be walking to meet us Jimmy: Hanging round like a dickhead in case, like Janis: Yes, dear 🙄 Janis: dad needed more ingredients so easy out in the end Jimmy: He's done you one favor then Jimmy: And me, since I burned my bridges with that 👵 Janis: no GILFs tonight boy Jimmy: Good Janis: ah the romance Jimmy: You have that when you show up Jimmy: 💕 Janis: Yeah, Twix gives the best hellos 👅 Jimmy: Funny Janis: don't be jelly Janis: hot houseguest ain't even here yet Jimmy: Piss off Jimmy: Don't remind me Janis: as if he will be, gonna be some poor greasy spic Jimmy: Find out soon enough Janis: anyway, Gracie'd have my hand off if he was Janis: no chance 😂 Jimmy: 🎻 Jimmy: Gutted for you, mate Janis: Ikr Janis: Really feel it Jimmy: I do Jimmy: Get a move on, I wanna see you before it's dark Janis: tell you what, keep it coming with the lines tonight, babe Janis: never heard that before 😳 Jimmy: It's not Janis: yeah well Janis: you know Jimmy: Yeah Janis: she literally ran out of hairspray Janis: tells you how my day has been Janis: no point going home if i pick up the wrong one, like Jimmy: Don't then Jimmy: Snuck you in and outta here enough times to know what I'm doing Janis: Don't tempt me Jimmy: 😏 Janis: Yeah and I've got the rep Janis: s'all you Jimmy: Not sorry Janis: I know you ain't Janis: shameless Jimmy: I want you, no shame in it Janis: Yeah? Jimmy: Yeah Jimmy: My day's been about missing you, mate Janis: I missed you too Jimmy: We got a lot of time to make up but I'm up for that Jimmy: Been thinking about you a lot Janis: Really? You can tell me all about it when I get there then Jimmy: I will Janis: Gonna have to go back to yours, like Janis: park's seen enough action, and that's just from Twix 😶 Jimmy: Filthy bitch, she is Jimmy: It's alright, pops ain't there as per Janis: don't care if he is Jimmy: Big talk Janis: if you doubt i can back it up then Janis: ✌ Jimmy: Not saying that Jimmy: I like it Janis: good Jimmy: You're good Janis: Got more work to do if you think that Jimmy: Challenge accepted Janis: not how it works, accepting on my behalf but good to know you're a willing participant like Janis: awkward at this point to find out otherwise Jimmy: And there's gonna be enough #awks when the exchange kids roll up Janis: ugh Janis: don't remind me Jimmy: Sorry Jimmy: How long they gonna be about? Janis: 2 weeks then same over there Jimmy: 😒 Janis: I know Janis: 'cos odds are at least one or two of 'em will be unbearable Janis: likely more, we don't need to add any more twats to the pot Jimmy: I'm the foreign dickhead in these parts, lads Jimmy: No room for you Janis: n'awh no more new boy shine forreal Jimmy: 💔 Janis: end of an era, mate Jimmy: Fully gutted Janis: you'll always have tam Jimmy: Thank god 💍 Jimmy: Girl's committed Janis: Yeah, so ride or die Janis: one hoe that is loyal Jimmy: ride or die like she might kill me Janis: I mean Janis: you keep playing Janis: girl gon snap Jimmy: you gonna protect me or what? Janis: who am i to stand in the way of true love Janis: or that girl's reach Jimmy: 😂 Jimmy: It was quality when you smacked Mia though, not even mad you also decked me Jimmy: Good times Janis: years in the making that one Janis: when bae LOVES the pain 😏 Jimmy: Is she having a Spaniard because they better love it if it's a yeah Janis: Duh Janis: love the clout of being like here, have the west wing Janis: no idea what hers is like, poor fucker regardless Jimmy: She should've bowed out like I did Jimmy: Talk about doing a runner Janis: shoulda woulda coulda Janis: too late now Jimmy: Whoever she gets won't say no to me Jimmy: You had your chance, mate Janis: Shut up Jimmy: You getting jealous of a fictional foreign kid over there, like? Janis: You wish Jimmy: I do Jimmy: It's quality when you try and fake that you aren't Janis: 🖕 i hate u Jimmy: You don't Janis: okay, hate's a bit strong, like Jimmy: 💕 Jimmy: Cute Janis: give you cute in a minute Jimmy: I know Jimmy: Come here to me then