#the best version is the Coming Out Of Their Shells music tour | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thedisguisedaltruism · 3 years

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fond stares, vast place, loud heartbeats

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, concert au

pairing: wonwoo/gn reader

summary: wonwoo hates the crowds, but he has to save up all his energy since you’re taking him as your concert buddy for taylor swift’s 1989 tour. little did he know, he will soon realize that he was actually in love with you, thanks to taylor and her wicked songwriting.

word count: 2,192

a/n: dumping this shit because too much feels for you are in love live :((

2015

“Wons, turn it up, turn it up!”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but snort from your excitement to see your longtime idol live. You worked hard to save enough so you could see Taylor Swift since then, and now you’re about to witness your turning point in life.

...together with your best friend, not to mention how he loathes crowds.

I Know Places is currently playing on the car stereo and you're warming up as you hit the high note in the chorus, dramatically pressing your chest with eyes shut. Wonwoo takes his final turn as you finally arrive at the stadium.

"Missed the note there, my friend." He teases. You could care less from his assed remarks because your mind's been in euphoria since you woke up from a power nap a few hours ago.

Outside the venue has already gathered a big crowd, and you patiently wait for your best friend who's double-checking the doors if they're surely closed.

Wonwoo has been your best friend for five years, and being grateful to have him is an understatement as he has witnessed your ups and downs in college. He knows that apart from your family and him, Taylor and her music has already played such a great role from adolescence until adulthood.

As a sucker for books, Wonwoo was undoubtedly impressed by Taylor's songwriting prowess since he listens to your discussions during the free time about the lyric analyses that you read across the internet, and you usually play her live performances whenever you pull off all-nighters that's why he agreed to be your concert buddy because he wants to see the person who could give rainbows to the person he likes.

Yes. The person he likes.

Wonwoo thought being in a Taylor Swift concert is not bad at all. It's like having a big crowd of best friends gathering in one huge place to have fun with their most talented best friend. Everyone's perfectly singing along to every lyric, breathing to each punctuation, and screaming at the top of their lungs.

Honestly speaking, he was having fun, and boy, he could sing along to a few songs while waving with his light-up bracelet.

Aside from being fascinated by the live performances, he would sometimes steal glances at you, making him amused by your kaleidoscope of emotions you've shown from the past eight performances. Sometimes you'd turn to him just to sing while holding your chest, and go back to screaming how much you love Taylor Swift.

After the succeeding crowd-jumping performances, Taylor comes out with her black Gibson acoustic guitar to perform an acoustic version of her song just like the old days. The crowd has once again roared, and you scoot close to Wonwoo to whisper that Taylor's going to sing your favorite song from 1989.

He knows the story behind it. You told him on your graduating year at the rooftop of your college building while chugging an energy drink just to keep yourself awake from pulling off an all-nighter for your thesis, it was about Taylor’s known actress friend falling in love with her producer on this album—someone with the name Jack—if he could still guess correctly.

Taylor has already ascended for a clearer sight of crowds from the top seats, instructing everyone to sing back the specific words. Wonwoo watches you hugging yourself while craning your neck so you could see Taylor from above.

One look, dark room

Meant just for you

Time moved too fast

You play it back

Buttons on a coat

Light-hearted joke

No proof, not much

But you saw enough

You and Wonwoo first met at the same elective during college freshman year. You were sitting near the door, sparing the next seat with your bag since someone from your class politely asked you to but unfortunately, she never came back and it was perfectly timed that Wonwoo immediately spotted the vacant seat beside you, exhausted from running before he gets late (yes, in a goddamn first day of class).

He learned that you’re taking up creative writing that’s why said elective was important for your course. He told you that he was taking up computer science, but he still needs to take the elective.

...and then, your friendship started.

You have friends, but they’re few for your liking because socializing is exhausting. Wonwoo, on the other hand, despised being exhausted around people and that’s the reason why both of you became friends quickly. Reading was Wonwoo’s stress escape and yours was binge-watching k-dramas and reality shows.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

You are in love

Since both of you chose to live in dormitories at college, sometimes you’d walk together around the university park late at night and talk about stuff happening in your life outside academics. One time, you told him how you’re pissed at your family’s insights about coming out since they happened to share once about how your cousin came out at a family gathering and the next moment, he was already in the hot seat. You told Wonwoo that you wished you were there to end all of your religious hypocrite relatives.

Wonwoo, within the years of friendship, was never the type to initiate a conversation, but he’s an excellent listener. He could watch you talk about Taylor Swift, the perennial hate for your Major professor who’s academia-obsessed since she sets a standard too high for her liking while her class is on the brink of dropping out, and how you were fascinated about him staying up all night for computer games and still ace programming exams.

Suddenly, the crowd started to roar out of the blue, making him shake his head from spacing out. Still standing, much to his surprise since he hates getting tired, he realized that he’s just watching you being helplessly in awe at Taylor Swift no matter how neck-stiffening it is, how your eyes sparkled with bliss just like the days when you talk with him about the things you love.

And then he felt the pace of his heartbeat quickened.

The crowd was already singing along with excitement—he has no idea what kind of reason it is—but he remains watching you like you were excruciatingly hard to reach, despite how you could hear his loud heartbeat if this was an empty place.

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says “You're my best friend”

And you knew what it was

He is in love

You screamed you’re my best friend at the top of your lungs together with other sixty thousand people at Taylor despite how your best friend, who’s silently watching beside you, couldn’t calm himself down unnoticed.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

Suddenly, you turn to Wonwoo as Taylor does her guitar break before singing the bridge, and you were surprised to see him just staring at you instead of watching Taylor from up above and tell you how skilled she was at playing guitar. The way he’s looking at you wasn’t even judging, teasing, or the usual antics that he does.

He’s just looking at you fondly and you thought maybe, he’s extremely happy that you get to see your longtime idol live after all these years and you deserved it so much.

...except that your tentative guess is incorrect.

“She’s really good, isn’t she?” you yelled at him proudly while pointing at Taylor with emphasis.

Your best friend could only nod and gesture at you to look back on your idol.

And so it goes

You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round

And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words

That made Wonwoo look up to Taylor Swift in an instant and judged her as he could so. As Taylor stopped, the crowd screamed once again, but nothing is deafening as his heartbeat while watching you cheer in chorus.

He didn’t know if he should feel betrayed, because you were his partner during graduation ball and you were just having the best time of your lives because fuck it, despite being anxious about what’s to come after the graduation, both of you were so happy to have been able to survive despite the shit hole life your university has given.

He also happened to frame a picture of you in his office peacefully sitting beside the stacks of scratch papers for software development. He secretly requested for its original copy at the official student publication of your university during that one major event as he saw it on Facebook.

He realized that he’s in love with you after all this time.

Much to his misfortune, you suddenly looked at him again and your eyes met that he couldn’t look away, but this time it was replaced with worry. You caught him twice, and knowing Wonwoo, he’s not usually vocal when it comes to express his discomfort.

You gently hold Wonwoo’s hand. “Are you having a bad feeling? We could go out if you want to,” you whispered just audible enough for him to hear.

And that’s how he lost it.

It took him another deep breath to sink in that you chose his well-being over your once-in-a-lifetime moment with your idol.

Like… holy shit, he was so lucky to have you in his life and he thought this time, he wants to step out of his shell and gather the courage to tell you how much you mean to his life. He’s had enough secretly pining over you for years.

But first, he wants you to be happy and enjoy your time with Taylor. He shakes his head no and holds your shoulders to turn to Taylor who’s now descending for the next performance.

“I can’t believe she’s real, what the hell, she was fucking real, Wonwoo.” you sighed. “Oh my god.”

You couldn’t stop wiping your face after spacing out which made Wonwoo chuckle. After the concert and almost a painful hour of waiting to get out of the stadium, you mutually agreed to stop by the nearest convenience store.

Although you only bought a coffee and went back inside Wonwoo’s car.

“Me too.” Wonwoo whispers. That made you remember what happened during You Are In Love performance. You looked at him and tapped his shoulder.

“You looked unwell this evening. Were you honestly okay, Wons?” you ask.

He only blinked in response.

It took Wonwoo a few seconds to gather up his courage. Now that it’s only the two of you alone, he thought he must let it out.

“Yeah, I was just overwhelmed. You don’t have to worry.” he jokes, his attention remained at the store. He could see from his peripherals how your eyebrows furrowed, obviously not convinced enough by his excuse.

“What you told me about Taylor the first time you introduced her to me was...true,” he sighed deeply. “She sings what we couldn’t put into words.”

For someone like Wonwoo whose eloquence is something to look up to, you were confused by what he meant.

Wonwoo turns to face you and takes your icy palms to wrap them with his large, slender, and warm ones.

“I love you.” He says, straightly looking into your eyes.

Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Please don’t joke around!” You hit his shoulder, but all he does is let out a burst of breathy laughter.

But honestly, your heart skipped a beat after hearing his sudden confession.

Tracing circles on your hand, Wonwoo smiles at your bewildered expression. “You were wondering if I was having a bad time? No, it’s all Taylor’s fault for making me confess to you tonight. That took me a long time I guess.”

“Wait, what?”

“I love you and Taylor made me realize that I should confess before it gets too late.”

You looked up at Wonwoo while pulling your hand from his gentle hold and laughed. It was unbelievable how both of you have been painfully oblivious despite being helplessly pining towards each other.

It was your best friend’s turn to get puzzled so you took the time advantage to confess.

“Idiot, I liked you too, ever since we first met.” sounding bashful, you looked away hoping that you didn’t sound like an idiot. So much irony for making fun of your best friend a few moments ago. “I have no idea that you felt deeper than I thought I have.”

Even if you already knew how Wonwoo’s mind works for five years, he is always full of surprises.

Or maybe he was so happy tonight that he kissed your hand and never let go of it as he started driving you home.

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #svt fluff #svt scenarios #svt au #DOOD MY FUCKEN HEART I CANT #stream ready to love everyone #lf: heaven's cloud stans #kpop fiction #kiwistories

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thewordworrier · 3 years

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Born Bob Dylan - Part One

Story Main Page - see this for warnings, etc.

Word Count: 2,190 words. Notes: I... Have been nervous about sharing this one - the whole fic. Very nervous. But I’ve worked pretty hard on it, and I’m actually really pleased with it. I think I’m almost proud.

- - - - - - - - - - Gerard side-eyed his manager. They looked far too pleased with themselves and he didn’t know why. They were on their way to meet the person who would be acting as his tour manager for his new music; so his main manager could stay “in the office” for their other acts as well. After a few minutes, they reached a smaller meeting room and his manager gestured for him to go on inside. “I’ve just got to go and make a quick phone call - I’ll join you in a minute.” “Alright then.” Gerard watched them pull their phone out of their pocket and duck around the corner before he turned to the slightly open door. He found himself smoothing out his clothes and attempting to make sure he looked relatively decent, even though he knew it was a really informal meeting, before he knocked on the door gently. “Come in?” He frowned, the sound of the voice starting to make parts of his brain twitch for some reason that he couldn’t figure out. But he opened the door and stepped inside anyway. Seeing the person on the other side of the door made his brain stutter and the twitching suddenly made sense. “Shelly?” The woman sitting at the table looked up from writing notes and gazed at him with wide, bright blue eyes that he could (and would) recognise anywhere. “Oh my god. Gerard?” He barely had time to nod before he had an armful of the shorter blonde. He hugged her tightly to him and squeezed her. She still fitted against him the same way she used to and she still felt the same; soft and warm and comforting. He had thought about what would happen if they ever met up again but he’d never imagined (although he had let himself hope) that she’d be this happy. “I can’t believe it’s you - they wouldn’t tell me, just that I’d be a good match and - ” she paused to take a breath as she stepped back from hugging him. “I’m so glad it’s you.” “They didn’t tell me anything either,” he noticed that she hadn’t stepped back far enough so he couldn’t reach her any longer, enough so that he had to stop touching her and really? He was glad for that. If he stopped touching her, then it would turn out that she wasn’t real. “I’m so glad it’s you too. I know I’m going to be in the best hands.” She smiled. “I hope so! I mean, I hope I haven’t lost my touch. I’ve been out of this kinda scene for awhile.” Gerard was about to reply, to reassure her that he doubted that she could ever lose her touch, when the manager returned, still looking way too pleased with themselves. “So,” they said. “I’ll assume that it’s a yes from both of you?” “Yes, of course,” Gerard said, watching the blonde nod. “Good to know,” his manager smiled. “I’ll just go and retrieve the paperwork.” Shelly frowned as the manager left the room. “They didn’t bring the paperwork with them?” “I guess not…” “Huh,” she nibbled her bottom lip for a moment before looking him over. “Hey, you look good.” He smiled a little bit. “Thanks, Shell. You’re looking pretty good yourself.” “Thank you,” she went a little pink. “Your hair is very… Danger Days,” she smiled a little and it almost seemed sad for a moment. “But not quite. I like it though. It looks good on you.” Gerard watched her move back over to where her bag was before she sat down. “You’ve said that about every colour I’ve tried though; that I’ve suited it.” “But that’s because you have always suited the colours you’ve been,” she said with a chuckle as she put her things away. “Even the teal roots?” He raised an eyebrow at her. She just giggled. “I mean! I preferred the red roots, but the teal wasn’t too awful. Teal might’ve looked good on the Danger Days pixie cut you had,” she paused. “Well, the shorter version? I’m not sure if it qualifies as a pixie cut or not.” “I think it was referred to as one once or twice.” “Mm, probably,” she hummed for a moment, getting distracted by thoughts of the Danger Days era. She sighed a little and shook her head. “Anyway. I don’t think there’s a colour you couldn’t pull off.” Gerard smiled slightly. “Even church mouse brown?” Shelly’s brow creased as she mouthed the words to herself. “Are we talking like, um, Professional Griefers?” “I suppose so. Maybe just a little less… Highlighted?” “I didn’t think you had that many highlights there. Besides, I liked Professional Griefers. I used to run to it. It’s on my treadmill playlist.” Gerard tried not to think about this; about her working out, covered in sweat, in those stupidly tiny and tight work-out clothes that women liked to wear, while listening to his music. He cleared his throat and was about to speak again when something caught his eye. He moved a little closer to her to get a better look. “Is that… The same organiser you had when you were working for us?” “Of course it is,” she flipped it shut and fastened the closure, stroking her fingertips over the old, worn leather for a moment. “It’s not broken, why get a new one? It’s served me well.” “It works hard to keep up with you I think?” He leant against the table near her and watched her for a few moments. “Have… Have you heard the new music?” She blinked rapidly and looked up at him. “No, I haven’t. I would’ve known it was you otherwise. I could pick your voice out from anywhere. You could sing the phonebook and I would still know it was you.” Gerard smiled brightly at her and her heart hiccuped. Apparently he could still do that to her all these years later. She wasn’t sure how that made her feel. She may have grown a little older, become a little physically softer in the few years they’d been apart but apparently he could still make her feel the exact same way as she used to feel back then. And it didn’t look like he’d aged a day; if anything it looked like he was getting younger. That bastard. “You’re still the sweetest thing ever I see,” he said. “It’s the truth though,” Shelly said, leaning on the table in front of her. “The ‘being able to pick your voice out’ thing, not the ‘me being sweet’ thing, I mean.” She leant her cheek on her hand and from his position perched on the edge of the table Gerard could see that she had way more buttons on her blouse done up than he remembered being used to seeing. Well, it made sense, they were a bit older now. But on the other hand… She was still as beautiful as he remembered. She didn’t need to flash the flesh to prove that. She’d never had to do that, really. “Well,” he said eventually. “You’ve always been sweet. Even when you were being tougher on us, it always came from a place of sweetness and care.” “Because I did care,” she said quietly, looking at her hands and taking a moment. “And I - ” Gerard’s manager returned, interrupting whatever it was she was going to say, and truthfully Shelly was a little bit relieved. - - - - - - - - - - “I know it’s been a while now but, I’m sorry about the divorce,” Shelly said softly and sweetly, as they sat in the cafeteria of the building they’d reunited in. “I really am.” She honestly sounded like she meant it, and truthfully, she did. All she’d ever wanted for him; for all of them, was for them to be happy. But by god had it hurt when he’d told them that he was getting engaged. She guessed she’d been in a hardcore, epic level state of denial because she stuck her head in the sand. Then everything fell apart for her when he actually got married. Gerard sighed deeply, looking into his coffee cup. “Yeah, thanks Shell. It kinda sucks but at least we never had any kids to drag them through it.” She hummed in sympathy. “For what it’s worth? I don’t think you ever would’ve let it affect the hypothetical children too badly. I think you would’ve handled it fairly and they would’ve been alright.” “It’s a bit easier when you have some kind of privilege I suppose,” he said with a shrug. “Like money in this instance.” “Mmhm, perhaps. But my point still stands…” He looked up from his coffee at her, studying her face. She was nibbling her bottom lip and fiddling with a napkin - he knew she was a little uncomfortable; the constant fiddling was an old tell of hers. At least some things never changed. Although he couldn’t pinpoint what it was that was making her feel that way. “That means a lot to me,” he said after a minute. “That you think that.” She smiled a little at him and he cleared his throat softly. “So, what about you? What’ve you been up to?” “Oh, um… I went home. England. Took some time away from this general scene. Sort of? I’m less of a glorified babysitter - ” Gerard laughed. “Oh, we weren’t that bad in the end we’re we?” “Not once you got yourself better, it was much easier then.” “You helped massively with that and you know you did,” he reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Don’t sell yourself short.” The blonde smiled a little and continued. “I’m less of a glorified babysitter now and more of a real one. I help a few friends here and there. I really enjoy it. I didn’t think I’d like looking after real kids that much.” Gerard watched her smile a little as she spoke. “Yeah? I’m glad. I mean, I’m sure you’re great with them - you were always good with us.” “Thanks Gerard,” she said quietly. She did notice, however, that he hadn’t moved his hand from on top of hers. They fell quiet for a little while and he wasn’t sure if he could or would consider it a comfortable silence or not. There were still a few questions that he wanted to ask but he… He wasn't sure how. “I know that look,” she said softly. “That’s your ‘I have more to say’ look.” He chuckled. “You can still read me then?” “Apparently so.” She hesitated a little before nudging his thumb with her own, considering the fact that he still had his hand resting on top of hers. “So, what is it you wanted to say?” “I don’t want to offend you, or anything?” Her gentle, affectionate action made him jump, just a little, but he didn’t move his hand. “Or pry? I mean, it’s really none of my business, to be honest - ” “Gerard,” she cut him off gently. “Just ask. You’ve never offended me, I don’t think that you know how.” “Okay… Um, well, what about you? Family wise I mean. Do you…” He paused, not sure exactly how to ask. “No,” Shelly replied gently, saving him the effort. “I’m not married, I don’t have kids. There’s no one special at home currently.” She removed her hand from underneath his and drew away from him, leaning back in her chair. She paused for a moment, slipping her hands around the mug she had her drink in; it was still warm and it was something to do with her hands. “I did get engaged for a while though.” Of all the things that he’d been prepared to hear, that was not one of them. “E-engaged?” He hastily took a sip of his coffee. “You’re not now?” She shook her head. “It was a little while ago.” “I… I’m sorry?” He wasn’t sure how to handle or react to this news. “It’s fine,” Shelly waved it off. “I broke it off with her. Something wasn’t right and I - ” “Did she hurt you?” Gerard asked quietly. “What? No, nothing bad like that,” Shelly watched as his expression changed from almost angry to very relieved and she smiled, touched by his… Protectiveness? “No, we just…” She swallowed and avoided his eyes. “Something changed and we grew apart. I didn’t want to stay with her if I wasn’t totally and utterly, like one hundred percent in love with her.” “But you did love her?” His voice was quiet. Shelly nodded, the volume of her voice matching his. “I did. Just apparently not enough.” “I’m sorry,” he whispered, taking her hand again. And he did mean it. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s fine. Really,” she looked at him then and couldn’t read the expression on his face. “I mean it Gerard. I’m okay, it’s okay. It was ages ago.” She paused for a moment and when she continued, she sounded different; like she was trying to convince herself more than anything. “We’ve all moved on.” Gerard wasn’t entirely sure, but that last sentence sounded very… Loaded. And he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

#my writing #BBD fic #fanfic #She Speaks #She Writes #July 2021 #<- written

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beautifulletdownfics · 4 years

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Twenty Good Reasons :: Part Eleven

Read Earlier Chapters Here

++ Part Eleven, Change Of Plans

I'd never been in a waiting room like this one before with Harry.

The chairs were upholstered and comfortable, the magazines were pristine and free from children's fingerprints, and the receptionist was dressed causally and in a room away from us. Harry sat next to me quietly, his hand resting comfortably with mine on my lap. I was nervous, and we'd spoken briefly in the car about Harry feeling apprehensive. He wasn't sure why that's just the label he put on how he was feeling. When we first sat down, I pulled my phone out and sent a text to my bother, but after the three little dots didn't appear on his message straight away, I locked the screen and put it away for later.

It was the end of Harry's first week home, and we had seen four properties, listed the Hampstead Heath house and were tentatively looking into removal companies. I think part of us both knew we were jumping the gun on the last thing, but we were hopeful, and one of the houses we saw we both really liked.

It was a Tuesday morning, and we'd been out for brunch with Georgie who was off work for her birthday, and now we were sitting in the waiting room for our first couples' counselling session. I was ashamed to admit I wasn't confident we'd ever actually get here, but after a few days of researching and calling around we settled on a name and Harry called from tour weeks ago to make an appointment for us. This date had been a mark on my mind for the last month at least as I tried to imagine how it would go, and now it was finally here. I'd taken ibuprofen in the car, and my headache was subsiding, and the coffee and plain waffles I'd eaten at breakfast didn't seem to have upset my stomach yet.

The sound of the door in front of us starting to open triggered Harry squeezing my hand. The man we agreed looked kind on the practice website appeared in the doorway with a calm, friendly smile on his face.

"Nina and Harry," He said, stepping forward to shake both our hands as we got to our feet, "It's lovely to meet you both, I'm Dr Hal Mayfair, but please call me Hal."

"Hello," Harry greeted him pleasantly, all the confidence that came from his job now coming to the forefront.

I hung back slightly but offered a smile, "Hi, I'm Nina," I said, feeling myself go bright red at having introduced myself to somebody who already greeted me by name.

Harry placed a hand on my lower back wordlessly as Hal opened the gestured for us to follow him through the door. This, it would seem, was his office, and we were told to sit wherever we were comfortable. There were a couple of armchairs and a small sofa which was where Harry went to, and I followed him, taking the spot next to him on the burgundy velvet.

"Would either of you like a tea or a coffee?" Hal asked.

"I'm okay, thanks," Harry moved into a more comfortable position beside me.

"Me too," I parroted.

Hal smiled at us both, "I understand this might be new to you both, and you'll likely feel a little uneasy at least for the first couple of times we meet. Today will be easy, I'm just going to ask you pretty basic things about yourselves and your relationship, towards the end we might touch on why you're here. Unless either of you has something you'd rather focus on?"

Harry cleared his throat, "That sounds good."

I nodded my agreement.

"You're alright with that, Nina?" Hal asked me specifically, a patient look on his face.

"Yes," I nodded, "Sorry."

"No need to apologise," He told me, his eyes briefly dropping to where Harry reached out for my hand and brought it across to his lap, "I just like to make sure we're all comfortable speaking."

"I'm just nervous," I gushed quickly.

"I'll start with an easy question for you then," Hal began with a kind smile, "How did you and Harry meet?"

I felt my shoulders drop slightly and I turned to Harry to catch his eye, he was already looking at me with a warm glint, "We met through my flatmates. Through friends, I guess. My flatmate worked with Harry, and over time we became friends, and then we started dating."

"I met my wife through my flatmate," Hal said smoothly, "Rather old fashioned for your generation, though."

"I couldn't really do the online dating thing," Harry joked, referring to his fame.

Hal nodded in understanding but didn't elaborate on it, "How long ago was that?"

"Five years," I replied, thinking it felt like no time at all while also feeling like a lifetime ago that we met.

"And when did you get engaged?"

I looked to the ring on my left hand, the one Hal must have noticed, "The beginning of this year. End of January."

"When you met Harry, did you think you'd marry him one day?"

"No," I let out a slow laugh and looked at Harry, who was chuckling to himself. "I don't think I even thought Harry and I would be friends."

"We knew each other for nearly six months before Nina agreed to go on a date with me," Harry provided happily, "I'd never met someone so shy in my life."

"What first attracted you to her?" Hal asked Harry.

"Well," Harry started carefully, "I thought she was beautiful … But I was completely done for when I realised how talented she was—is," he corrected quickly as I looked at my lap. "I was completely humbled by her and … It was incredibly attractive to me."

Interest spread across Hal's face, "Which talent was that?"

Harry squeezed our hands together again and looked at me when he spoke, "Nina's got one of the most spectacular musical minds of a generation. She's a classical virtuoso and composer. When we met, I'd never met anyone with an inch of her talent before."

"You have music in common then," Hal observed, "Has it ever been a pressure point in your relationship?"

I looked at Harry and slowly shook my head, "No, not the music … We might sometimes disagree on something we're working on together, but I don't think it causes issues in the relationship, do you?" I asked Harry.

"We don't ever fight about music, no," Harry agreed.

"There's no competitiveness or jealousy there? My understanding it can be a very competitive industry."

"It is," Harry spoke up, "But our jobs are so different, we're in such different worlds within music, and I think … Nina and I do it for different reasons, we don't get the same thing out of it. It's also impossible to compete with talent like Nina's."

"You sound a little jealous," Hal challenged Harry through a knowing smile.

Harry nodded and didn't hesitate before answering at all, "I'm incredibly envious of Nina's talent, it's seriously impressive. But … It's not like, something negative in our relationship."

"I know what you mean," Hal assured him, "If we can go back to talking about your relationship in general … What do you think has been the best part of your relationship?"

I heard Harry take in a breath next to me and I felt my own mind almost short circuit at the question, unsure of what my answer was. It was a big question, and it felt like one I could give a hundred small answers to but to put it down to just one was hard.

"Nina?"

"Confidence," I frowned as I spoke, "I think for me it's probably been the confidence. In a lot of ways, Harry's really brought me out of my shell, and I like feeling settled in always having Harry. Even if I'm not sure of anything else, knowing I'll have Harry on my team … I think that's the best bit for me."

"What about a joint best part?" Hal asked me.

I looked at Harry, thinking about my answer. Harry spoke over my thoughts, "We could say confidence for us both," He said, "Nina's given me confidence as well. Maybe a different kind of confidence, but I'm a much more settled and self-assured version of myself. Before I met her, I didn't know how I'd ever feel happy or settled in a relationship, my job made relationships hard. Nina gave me hope I'd have something normal and balanced."

"It's sounding to me that you're both quite secure in the relationship, has this always been the case?"

My heart dropped. Neither Harry or I spoke.

Hal looked between the two of us carefully, "Can you explain why you've both gone quiet, Harry?"

"We broke up for a little bit," Harry said softly, his voice strained, "That was nearly two years ago now."

"Okay," Hal nodded, "I'm sure we'll talk about that in more depth, but what was the reason for that break? Can you tell me the short version?"

"It was me," I said before Harry could answer, I avoided looking at him and instead focused on the leg of Hal's chair, "I have anxiety and depression and—

—Nina had PTSD," Harry interrupted firmly, "It wasn't her fault."

Hal was quiet for a moment, likely taking in the exchange. I could feel Harry looking at me and eventually relented, turning my head his way and taking in the pleading look behind his eyes.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Harry told me.

"You were diagnosed with PTSD, Nina?" Hal asked.

"Yes," I said quietly.

"And anxiety and depression?"

"Generalised anxiety disorder, panic disorder and cyclothymic depression," I listed off, "But I had those when I met Harry. I see a psychologist and psychiatrist on my own."

Hal's voice was even when he asked the next question, "What was the PTSD in response to?"

It struck me that it was two years on and still, Harry and I were dealing with this. We were in the middle of moving house to try to settle it between us. We were back together—for two years now—but what was broken that night, Harry and I were still trying to repair.

"Our home was broken into," Harry answered for me, "Nina was there when it happened."

I watched as Hal nodded in some kind of understanding at what Harry said, he looked at me though, "That must have been incredibly scary, Nina. Was there a physical element to the crime? Were you assaulted?"

"No," I let out a shaky breath, "I hurt myself trying to hide and had a panic episode when police arrived."

"You were home alone?"

"I was on tour," Harry swallowed deeply, answering the question Hal directed my way, "I was in America."

"That must have been traumatic for you both," Hal observed, "How long after it happened did you break up?"

I could feel myself starting to get emotional, "Straight after, a week," I said.

"Lots of couples have the same thing happen after a traumatic event," Hal explains, "Everybody processes things differently. Do you still find yourself affected by the PTSD every day, Nina?"

"No," I crossed one leg over the other and shook my head, "No, I wouldn't say I have any symptoms anymore."

"That's great. Did either of you find coming back together difficult?"

"No," Harry replied.

"It was a relief," I added.

"That's also great," Hal said, "Brings us nicely to why we're here, what triggered you deciding you wanted to have counselling?"

Before I could form a sentence Harry spoke up, raising his free hand slightly in the air, "I've had a rough year," he began, "Didn't really realise it at the time but … I guess I've felt overwhelmed and I shut Nina out. Funnily enough, it sort of started with another break-in, we were in Canada with our families, and our house in London was broken into again," Harry ran his hand over his head roughly.

"I wouldn't say that's a 'funnily enough' situation," Hal responded.

"No," Harry agreed automatically, "It's not. I've been talking to someone, a therapist … I usually do during a tour, it helps with managing everything but … Anyway, I suppose this break-in triggered, in me at least, a fear that I'd lose Nina again."

"Harry," I mumbled, shocked and not having heard him articulate that before. I hadn't wanted to appear nosy in what he was talking with his therapist about.

"I really love her," Harry's eyes were directed at Hal, "And I hate that because of my job Nina's not safe in our home. I can't fix it, and it messes with me. I got furious at everything, I guess. Angry at anything I couldn't control and I shut Nina out, which makes no sense really, my being a jackass only made her feel insecure and like I didn't care about her."

"Fear has us behaving in strange ways, Harry," Hal said evenly. "Was coming to see me your idea?"

"No," Harry shook his head, "I got angry when Nina suggested it, I hated the thought we were failing. Didn't want to need to."

Hal nodded in understanding, "That's a common reaction. Nina, what was your reason for suggesting to Harry you come here?"

"Harry wasn't telling me how he was feeling," I told him, "The idea came from my mum actually because we're planning on getting married this year. Like pre-marriage counselling, I guess. I think she thought it might be beneficial for us to get used to dealing with our little problems before they become bigger ones down the track."

"That's wise," Hal provided, "Pre-marriage counselling could be a great way of approaching our time together. I can see you have a lot of love for each other, and there are certainly a fair few nuances in your relationship … I think if you're ready to be honest and open about where you can improve then this could be really beneficial to you both. We're out of time for today, but do either of you have any questions?"

I could see Harry shaking his head out the corner of my eye.

"No," I said.

"Okay, let's talk about future appointments then," Hal turned and pulled an iPad onto his lap from the desk behind him.

"I need a nap after that," I swayed Harry, and I's joint hands between us as we came out of a cafe holding take away coffees.

"Yeah," Harry took a sip of his, "It was good though, kind of hard to judge for the first time but I think he'll be okay to talk to, don't you think?"

I nodded, "I think so. It's sort of weird being so open about our relationship with a stranger though, isn't it? I'm so used to keeping things private. We don't talk about when we first met very often."

"We don't, do we?" Harry mused, "Most of the time when I get asked about you it's in an interview, and I'm very careful about how I answer."

"I actively try to avoid you coming up in conversation with a lot of my new friends," I admit, "I'm always so worried people will dig for information on us. Our relationship isn't fucking gossip."

He pressed a kiss to my temple, "I love you being protective of us."

I frowned as I said the next thing that came to mind, "I hadn't made the connection between what happened when we were in Canada and you being worried about me. Well, not properly, and not about it being a trigger for you."

Harry stayed quiet for a moment as we approached where the car was parked, "I didn't either. It's come out in my therapy the last few weeks."

"I love you," I told him.

"I love you, too," Harry returned, momentarily distracted by his text tone sounding from his pocket.

"Are you still going to help Gem with the new sofa?"

"No," Harry shook his head, turning the screen my way so I could see he happened to be reading a text from his sister right as I mentioned her, "The delivery driver helped get it up. I need to get some writing done today, or at least try to."

I made a mental note to try to get Laykn in Cambodia on FaceTime later on. My brother had always been lousy on text, it was probably unreasonable for me to think him being overseas would make him any better at it.

"I bagsy the piano," I said as we got into the car and Harry started the engine. "And you're not allowed to distract me with houses or Youtube videos or holiday destinations."

"I would never," Harry had the audacity to lie, which earned him an eye roll from me. His expression shifted back away from playful, his focus divided between me and the road, "If we want to make an offer on that East Finchley house we need to talk about that today as well."

I gave him an uneasy look, "It's got more bedrooms than we agreed to."

We were stationary, sitting in traffic and Harry's hand laced through mine on my lap, "Neens, I thought you'd liked it!"

"I do a lot. But … Isn't it unwise to buy the first one we see and like?"

"It was the third place we saw," Harry reasoned, "And there really aren't any rules, we can buy whichever house we like."

"It's a lot of money, Harry," I added quietly, "I've not bought a house before … It makes me feel sick if I think about it too much."

"I love you for that," Harry told me, "I really do, but we have to live somewhere. And we both like that house. It's secure, it's got a pretty garden, and we can fit out the extra rooms to work as studio space for us. It's a normal family home … I think it's a great option."

"Shouldn't we feel like the house is speaking to us though," I waved my hands around in the air between us to demonstrate my point, "I don't feel very … My spidey senses aren't going off."

"Your spidey senses." He repeated carefully.

"Yes."

Harry let out a sigh in a far more patient manner than I deserved, "We've been together five years, and this is the first I'm hearing about your spidey senses, Nina."

I crossed my arms over my chest, "I want to love where we live, Harry."

His hand came out to cover my thigh, "I know, babe, me too. We can look at a couple of other places, but it wouldn't hurt to put an offer in, would it?"

"I suppose not," I sighed just as Harry turned into our street.

I was going to miss Chelsea. I hadn't been expecting to fall in love with this area, but I had. It was so beautiful and quintessentially London. It was nice getting to know another area and being close to the city. There were so many charming cafes and restaurants nearby, and when Harry was away, I found myself comforted by the bustle of there being so many people around all the time. I could tell it made Harry nervous parking on the street though, and the lingering glances we got walking from the car to the apartment complex door. It was only a matter of time before paparazzi got wind of us staying here and started appearing.

Harry kicked off his boots and went straight into the kitchen to put on the kettle. I followed behind him, struggling to unzip my jacket.

"Can you help with this?" I asked without looking up at him. I stopped in the middle of the room, trying to dislodge a loose piece of yarn that was stuck in the zipper of my coat, "This fucking zip—

"Alright, alright," Harry tutted me and appeared in front of me, his socked toes touching mine on the hardwood floor, "Don't rip it … God, you've got absolutely no patience for this sort of thing, do you? Get your fingers out," He brushed my hands away, "You're gonna tear it."

I let out a long sigh and dropped my shoulders dramatically, "Prodigy's don't have time for nonsense like this."

"Thank heavens I'm an Average Joe with nothing but time for nonsense like this," Harry murmured his joke, brows pulled down in concentration as he manoeuvred the zip. "Excuse fingers," He said quietly before bending down slightly and burrowing one hand up under the bottom of my jumper so he could hold the fabric from the inside. The cold backs of his hands ghosted my skin and made me jump close to him, "Sorry," Harry smiled to himself, still watching what his hands were doing, "How on earth do you manage tangles like this, honestly."

"Are you making a move on me, Harry Styles?"

Harry made a satisfying little 'oh' as he pulled the fabric free and unzipped my jacket, and then looked up to meet my eyes, "A move? On you? Nah."

I barked out a laugh, "Thank God."

I peeled off my jacket and hung it over the back of a chair at the table, moving around to find a snack. I jumped in surprised when Harry appeared behind me, his hands slipping around my waist and settling on my hip bones. I leaned back into him out of instinct, the smell of his cologne hitting my nose and making my whole body react to the feel of his pressed against me.

"If I was going to make a move on you, it would be something more like this," He said lowly, pressing his lips to the base of my neck and slowly running his prickly jaw around my sensitive skin. The hairs on my upper arms raised, and when Harry's hands locked together just above the button of my jeans, I had to bite my lip to hold in the sudden moan in my throat. My body was racing ahead to how it would feel to have his hands there without the layers of clothing in-between.

"I thought you had work to do this afternoon?" I croaked out.

"I suddenly remembered that I don't," Harry said, his mouth resting on my shoulder where he had pulled back my jumper. His fingers curled around the bottom of the garment and attached to my sides, slowly dragging up to my breasts and toying with the lace of my bra, "Also we haven't had sex in twelve hours, and I want to be inside you."

I hummed and turned around in his arms, "Just come right out and say it then."

"Yep," He grinned at me, ducking down to steal a searing, wet kiss, "Know you like it when I tell you what I'm going to do to you."

"And what are you going to do to me?" I asked breathlessly, watching his eyes take in the swell of my breasts before he met my eyes again.

He took a step closer, pushing his hardening length against my stomach with a glint in his eye, "I'm going to make you cum with my fingers and then I'm going to fuck you right here in the kitchen, sound good?"

"Sounds great," I told him.

"Take your jeans off, Nina," Harry said softly, his breath briefly hitching when I went to palm his cock. He stepped back away from me, "Don't think I said anything about your hands on me, did I?"

"Bossy, bossy," I rolled my eyes as I undid my jeans and tugged them down my thighs in an entirely unsexy manner. Skinny jeans weren't made for slinking off for your fiancé.

"I like these," Harry's index finger slipped underneath the band of my knickers and pulled the grey strap away from my skin, "Take them off, though."

Walking out of the bathroom later that afternoon, Harry was face down on the bed in just a pair of shorts on his phone while I sorted through a draw looking for something comfortable to wear. Our nap was interrupted by Harry getting a phone call, and I took it as an opportunity to shower without his wandering hands.

"What are we going to make for dinner?" I asked him, slipping on a pair of leggings and a crop top.

Harry's eyes left his screen, and when he looked at me, he grinned, "We or me?"

"I said 'we'!" I returned quickly, desperately trying to hide my smile.

Just as Harry was about to reply, my phone started ringing from the bedside table. He reached over and gave it to me, pressing a kiss to my head and then retreating to the bathroom himself as I answered it.

"Nina Lawrence?"

"Yes, that's me," I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder while tying a wrap shirt around myself.

"This is Doctor Farr … I'm calling regarding your blood test we did earlier this week, is now a good time?"

I stopped what I was doing and caught my reflection in the mirror, my heart started racing, "It's good, yes. Is there something wrong?"

"I'm going to ask you to set up another appointment as soon as is convenient," She told me slowly, "But there's nothing wrong, no."

"Okay," I said slowly, moving to sit on the end of the bed as Harry poked his head out of the ensuite and gave me a curious look. I frowned slightly.

Dr Farr kept talking in my ear, "I do need to tell you that the testing we've done has shown a positive result for pregnancy."

There was a long silence, and I was acutely aware of Harry stepping out of the bathroom and back towards the bed.

"Nina?" She said.

I rested my elbows on my knees and leant forward, "But … What?"

"The good news is that pregnancy explains most, if not all, of your symptoms, Nina."

I was shaking my head, "I was negative at home …"

Harry crouched in front of me, his brow furrowed as he pieced together my end of the conversation.

"I understand that you took a home pregnancy test, Nina," Doctor Farr continued slowly, "Our testing has shown that you got a false negative on your at-home test, which happens as often as forty per cent of the time."

"Forty per cent?"

"At-home tests are also less accurate if you're quite early into a pregnancy, which going off your other readings, I would say you are."

I ran my hand over my head and thought quickly about what she'd said, "What about blood tests, how accurate are they?"

"Ninety-nine per cent, Nina." She paused for a moment, "This is not a result medical professionals are in the business of handing out lightly. I understand that this has come as a bit of a shock to you … I'm going to put you back through to reception, please set up an appointment with me as soon as suits, and we can talk through this together more, okay?"

"Alright," I said quietly, her words not sticking in my head. Harry was observing me as the phone clicked over to the receptionist. She needed to repeat herself a few times before I agreed to an appointment the following afternoon. When she hung up, I left the phone up to my ear for a few moments, eyes on Harry.

"Neens," Harry whispered, slowly reaching up for my phone and taking it from my hand.

"That was …" I started speaking but barely recognised my own voice, "Harry, that was … I've got to—I'm pregnant."

His expression didn't change an inch, but Harry drew in a silent breath at my words, "Pregnant?"

"Our home test was wrong," I said quickly, my heart beating wildly in my chest, "It was wrong and she—fuck I can't be pregnant. I … I can't. This doesn't make any sense."

"Woah," Harry's hands covered my thighs gently, "Breathe, baby."

"Baby!" My eyes bulged out at the word, "That's fucking right! A bloody baby, Harry," I pulled my hair back off my face and leant away from him, "I never miss a pill. This makes no sense. I can't be pregnant," I rambled off to myself, "I never miss a pill," I repeated to Harry, "Even when I travel I set alarms. I'm so careful. So careful, Harry."

Harry was kneeling exactly where he had been, his eyes following my face, and although he wasn't saying anything, I could see the cogs turning in his brain. I felt an overwhelming, surging need to explain it away. To tell him … I wasn't sure exactly, but I didn't think I'd ever felt panic like I was currently and usually Harry was the person I could count on to level me out.

This felt different.

This felt like some other kind of thing that Harry needed excuses for—reasons for—and I didn't' know that I had any. But I also knew that I needed to find some.

I stood up so quickly he had to catch his balance with a hand on the floor between his knees "I never miss a—"

"Nina," Harry interrupted my repeating the phrase again with a stern look, he was on his feet and in front of me, "I know. I know you don't."

I felt the heat rising to my eyes as I watched his face, "Harry."

He drew his arms around my shoulders and pulled me into his chest tightly, with my cheek pressed into his bare skin I could hear his heart pounding, but I didn't say anything. As soon as I was in his hold, my tears started falling. They were tears of disbelief and of fear and of shock. Harry's palms rubbed up and down my back, and he didn't let up his tight grip of me at all.

"What are we going to do?" I cried softly, holding my fingers over my face like it might halt the tears.

Harry's voice was slow, and even when he spoke, "We're going to take a moment, and then we'll talk about it."

I felt sick. But it was a different kind of sick to what I'd been feeling the last couple of weeks. This was deep in my gut and made my spine tingle with nerves and something close to dread. I didn't understand how five minutes ago Harry and I had been in bed together and in the time it took for me to shower and answer a phone call suddenly five minutes ago seemed like a different life.

After a few minutes of my crying in small bursts and waves, Harry pulled back and took my face in his hands, "Nina, tell me what the doctor said."

"That I'm pregnant, and home tests show false negatives up to forty per cent of the time!" I reeled off, feeling the sense of stillness that came over me in the last few moments unravel very quickly.

"Okay," Harry said, "And she wanted another appointment? Is that what the end was about?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," I bit my lip, "I've got to go back, said she wanted to talk through the blood test results, but pregnancy explained what was wrong with them."

Harry frowned, "There's something wrong?"

"Yes, I'm pregnant!" I cried out.

"Nina, did she say there was something else?" He urged.

I shook my head, "No."

Harry's arms dropped to my shoulders, and he rested his wrists against my neck, his fingers curling around the ends of my hair, "Okay. How do you feel right now?"

"Terrified," I replied quickly, "Guilty."

The frown returned to his face, "Guilty?"

"When I took the test, I was so cocky about knowing I wasn't," I sighed, "And this wasn't the fucking plan."

"You had no way of knowing you were," Harry told me.

"Really?" I asked, my voice rising slightly, "How could I not have though, Harry? I mean … How did it not cross my mind at all?"

"Nina, it didn't cross mine either," he said quietly, "You haven't done anything wrong."

"Where's my phone," I asked, looking around the room and trying to remember where it would have ended up. It was sitting on top of the duvet, I stepped away from Harry and picked it up. I plucked at my lip as I unlocked and navigated to my period tracker, needing to check for myself.

"What are you looking for?" Harry asked.

"In the car the other day, I checked and told you I'd had my period, that's why I wasn't worried …"

I heard Harry shuffle over to the bed, he sat down and tugged on my arm to get me to sit beside him, "Show me."

I held the phone so he could see, my thigh fitting snuggly next to his on the bed. All the data I saw from my last period was normal, but even normal was abnormal for me. My cycle was often all over the place, and I went through phases of light periods. Nothing flagged in my mind at the light, short period I had after Harry left Bath. The one that was quite different from the three or four before it.

"The morning before we went to Bath," I said, "I think … That'd have to be it. I wasn't sick before that."

"How long ago was that," Harry tilted his head to the side in thought, "Five weeks ago?"

I nodded and pulled up a calendar, "Almost six, the beginning of May. What are we going to do, Harry?"

"We don't have to figure that out straight away, wait until the appointment tomorrow and see what the doctor says."

"How are you so calm right now?"

Harry's expression shifted, his eyes widening as he explained, "I'm relieved it's not something sinister, Nina. I've been worried we were going to be getting bad news."

"Like what?"

"Like cancer!" He exclaimed, "Or something on your brain. Or something in your gut, or this was all manifestations of stress … I couldn't bear the thought of there being something seriously wrong with you."

I dropped my cheek onto his shoulder, "You didn't tell me you were that worried."

"Didn't want to freak you out," Harry mumbled.

"I'm freaking out anyway," I admitted. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

Harry didn't say anything, he was staring at his hands clasped in front of him.

"What are you thinking?" I asked him quietly, terrified of the answer.

He shook his head, "I dunno. I'm… It's a shock."

We'd spoken about kids. But it was always something far into our future. I was still in my twenties, I wasn't ready to be a mum yet. I'd imagined having children in my thirties. Tied to our discussions about kids was always my fear of post-natal depression and my higher likelihood of experiencing it. Harry was in the middle of writing an album and planning a tour next year, he wasn't ready for kids and all that yet.

A baby wasn't close to being on our short term plan.

I lay on my back in the dark, Harry asleep beside me.

We had a quiet dinner and sat through a documentary on Netflix, but I don't think either of us took a lot of it in. My head was swirling, and it felt like Harry was extra gentle with me. Every time I went to the bathroom, I told myself over and over not to touch my lower belly or think about that area of my body. I was glad Harry hadn't drawn any attention to it yet although I did maybe catch him looking at me with a softer look at one point. I let out a long sigh and rubbed at my eyes roughly, I didn't know what I should be thinking.

"Love," Harry said, his voice clear and unmarred by sleep.

"I thought you were asleep."

"No," He replied, "You alright?"

"I'm not sure," I told him honestly, rolling onto my side to face him when I heard Harry doing the same.

He pressed a warm kiss to my forehead and then settled against his pillow, "Neens, if you're not ready for this right now that's okay. I don't want you to feel as though you're trapped. You're not."

Trapped.

I knew what he was saying. And I knew that Harry was probably warring within himself to figure out a way to initiate that conversation. I'm sure it was on his mind most of the day. The problem was, I didn't feel trapped. I felt unsure, which was somehow worse. I didn't feel like there was an obvious answer, and that was much more frightening.

"Nina, if now's not the time for us to have a baby, then now's not the time."

"I just feel like an idiot right now," I told him honestly.

"Hey," he called gently, "You're not an idiot, I don't want you feeling like that. We're both here, Nina, this isn't on you, but you have to tell me if you don't think now's the time. As much as I'd like to say I'll be in this with you equally, to begin with, this effects you the most … You're so young, Nina. You've got so much to contribute and achieve in your career. I don't want you to miss out on or give anything up because we got pregnant and that's that. We've got all the time in the world for kids after."

His words were making my heart race, I was utterly overwhelmed by it, and my brain didn't know how to consider things logically or calmly as Harry seemed to be able to.

I asked my next question without thinking about it too much, "Do you think we could do it?"

"It's not about what I think right now," Harry replied quickly.

"Yes, it is," I urged him, "I don't want to feel like I'm making this decision on my own! I want to know what you think. I need to know what you think. You're allowed to not be ready for a baby too."

Harry's hand landed carefully on my cheek, "I think …" He thought for a moment, "I think you're the person I want to do this with … I know a baby wasn't what we had planned for right now but, it was on the list—not the next thing on the list—but on the list, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Harry cleared his throat slightly, "I meant what I said, Nina, about things being different when we have kids. If we have a baby, I'm going to be here. No albums, no big tours."

I smiled slightly, thinking of all the times Harry had spoken about how he wanted to be a stay at home dad. When he first mentioned it, years ago, I'd been quick to dismiss it. But Harry was adamant. He wanted to be a stay at home dad, there wasn't a hint of a caveat to it.

He took my silence to mean I needed more convincing, "I've done a lot in my career, Nina, and what's left can wait until after kids—it can wait until whenever. I'll be at home while you do whatever you need to do."

"If we don't—" I started slowly but wasn't quite able to finish the sentence, "If we … What happens if for some reason in five, six years we can't? What if this is our time?"

"I don't think you can make decisions off that way of thinking, Nina," Harry told me, "It's not fair, you can't possibly know what will happen in five years. In five years, you'll still be young."

"But shouldn't I be feeling some strong emotion?" I flipped back to my other train of thought, "I feel overwhelmed and worried, but not any other emotion convincingly. I should be feeling something? If I wanted this, wouldn't I be happy or excited?"

Harry stayed quiet for a moment, "No, I think … I think that it's terrifying whether you planned it or not, that's what everyone says, right? I think it's more likely you'd know if it wasn't the right thing for now. As for being happy or excited, Neens, this was a surprise. Maybe you go straight to those emotions if you've been trying? We're both in shock right now, it hasn't even been 24 hours."

I shuffled my cheek against my pillow, "My follow up appointment is at 3pm tomorrow, I don't know that I can go to a doctor and say I'm not sure."

"What are you on about?" Harry questioned, "Of course you can! Tomorrow we'll go, and we'll listen to what she has to say, and if we're still not sure what we're going to do, then we'll take a bit more time."

"You're coming?"

"Of course I'm coming, Nina."

I linked my fingers with Harry's, pulling his closer to press a kiss to his knuckles, "Good."

His index finger escaped from my hand, and he lightly touched my nose with it in the dark, "We need to sleep, one am isn't the time to be making decisions."

"You're right," I told him.

"I am," Harry agreed, "Roll over, you get to be little spoon tonight."

I did as he said and let Harry wind his arms around my middle to pull me back against his chest, the smell of his shampoo and cologne engulfed me and I shut my eyes slowly.

#1dff #fic: twenty good reasons #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles stories

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lonelypond · 4 years

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Tiger By The Tail, Chapter 5

NicoMaki, NozoEli, Love Live, 2K, 5/?

Maki and Honoka recover from filming, Eli and Nozomi go out to dinner, and Nico and Rin stay in.

Chapter 5

The video session had been manic. They always were. Honoka was now sprawled out on the music room couch, candy red uniform jacket open, tank top plastered to her torso with sweat, Maki was slumped against the wall, chugging water, jacket off, sleeves rolled up. Walnut parts were scattered everywhere, Honoka reached down, grabbed a handful, and tossed the shells in Maki’s direction.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” Maki raised her mug in salute.

“That was like 10 minutes.” Honoka groaned.

“You got walnut shells in my piano.”

Honoka sat up, her arms wide and pounding up and down, “That part in the middle, that was so cool, you were like” more gesturing, “And I was” Honoka made cracking nuts movements, “and they were flying everywhere, cracking in half right when you hit the keys…that was the Russian Dance, right? Eli’s gonna love it.”

“I don’t think so.” Maki closed her eyes, head back against the wall.

“Why not, it was great.” Honoka sounded peeved.

“Eli’s a trained classical ballerina, Honoka, cracking walnuts to Tchaikovsky’s masterpiece is probably not going to crack her top 10 versions.”

“You’re wrong.”

Maki sighed. “We have to clean up now.”

Honoka fake yawned and stretched her arms wide, “But I’m tired now, Maki. And I want to show Eli the video. Think she’s done with her date?”

Maki raised an eyebrow. She would not have expected Eli, who lived alone, to return here, after her date, to this house full of people who might get in the way of any after date activities. “Eli might want some privacy. I’m sure Kotori would love to see the video.”

“Oh yeah, we looked amazing.” Honoka jumped up and grabbed the phone off its stand, “I’ll send it to her.”

They had looked amazing, Maki’s snowy tuxedo and Honoka’s vivid splash of seasonal red, Honoka’s uniform trousers out of the same fabric as Maki’s. The faux bearskin hat was now ludicrously off balance on the edge of Maki’s piano. At some point, Honoka had taken it off and started tossing walnut meats in it, which is how they got into the piano.

Maki flexed her fingers. She’d spent most of the day practicing for both tonight and the more traditional program Eli had put together. Finger fatigue and no patience for picking walnut carcasses out of her piano so what she needed now was a snack. “Cookies. We need cookies.”

Honoka bounced to her feet, “We do.”

Maki grabbed the hat, shook out walnut parts, and put it on, tilting it back, decisively giddy as she remembered a plate of snickerdoodles. “We’ll clean up tomorrow.”

“YES!” Honoka fist pumped, “You’re the best, Maki. I’ll be down here right after breakfast with a broom.”

Maki tried frowning, but could barely dent the energy that made her want to tap dance across the floor, “You’d better. It’s bad enough that you invi…”

“Maki.” Honoka sounded serious.

“What?”

“You said you would stop blaming me.”

“No, I agreed to stop mentioning that I was blaming you.”

“Isn’t that the same?”

“No.” Maki tossed the hat on the couch, giddy bubble burst, “If Rin ate all the cookies, you’re making more.”

“There’s some in the freezer.”

“Good.”

###

Eli opened the door for Nozomi, who had a dark gray dress with a slightly darker pattern scattered over it. Eli had opted for a dark green turtleneck tucked into light gray trousers.

“This is a very cute little place.” Nozomi glanced around the small room, shifting her shawl.

Eli waved at the bartender, who smiled back. “Yeah, it’s very cozy. I recommend it to a lot of my clients.”

They slid into a circular back booth. “Do you bring them here yourself?”

Eli shook her head, “No. After a long day of hiking or skiing, they’re usually tired of my jokes. I only have 5.”

Nozomi brushed Eli’s arm as she took off her shawl, staying close, “I’m sure that’s not true. You seem charm.”

Eli laughed, “I am charmed. By you.”

Nozomi tilted her head and her next comment was in Japanese, “Perhaps I meant you are charming. Do verb tense hints come with dinner? And is there a quiz with a prize for excellence? I am only motivated by reward.”

Eli’s grin broadened and she continued the conversation at Nozomi’s speed, “My apologies, Nozomi-san. I could not resist the word play. And you can have any reward you want.”

Nozomi arched an eyebrow, smiling at the waitress but waving away the menu, “That is a very generous offer, Eli. Aren’t you worried about what I might demand?”

Eli shrugged, opening a menu and placing it between them, “No. I might be intrigued.”

“Possibly you should be worried.” Nozomi’s hand brushed Eli’s.

Nozomi sensed nervousness as the seemingly bold Eli concentrated on the menu, speaking without making eye contact, “You seem like a holiday gift in a lonely winter so I just intend to be grateful for the brightness.”

Nozomi smiled. “And what does the local tour guide recommend?”

“Seafood, always seafood.” Eli paused, “There are vegan and vegetarian options though…”

Nozomi glanced at the menu, then caught Eli’s eye. “Local specialties are fine. Everything I’ve seen looks tasty.”

A blush. Nozomi was starting to feel confident. Eli might be adpt at teaching skiing to groups, but perhaps Nozomi could provide private tutoring on other sports after dessert.

###

Nico was restless. Her siblings were sleeping in Japan so no video chatting with them. There was nothing in this rustic kitchen that Nico wanted to eat or cook. This was not Nico’s house so she was not going to clean. And she had already added Nico Ni songs to all of Maki’s playlists, for which she would obviously be thanked for once Maki realized how much they had been improved. So Nico was watching Terrace House because at least it felt a little like home.

Rin came bounding through the kitchen, talking as she chewed. “Hey, Nico, these cookies are great!”

Nico shook her head and pulled the blanket Maki had given her closer.

“What you watching?” Rin jumped over the back of the couch.

“Terrace House.”

“Nah, Nico. We’re in America. Watch American.” Rin grabbed the remote and slid next to Nico. “There’s some show with truckers or ice fishers or something.”

“Nico is getting tips from the models.” Nico reclaimed the remote.

“Hey, good idea. Is this an episode with photo shoots or something?”

Nico shrugged, “Nico doesn’t know.” Then Nico pointed the remote at Rin. “When are we starting the shoot tomorrow? No one told Nico the schedule.”

“We’re not!” Rin threw a pillow in the air, “It’s amazing. Umi actually said I can sleep in. She texted me.” Rin showed Nico her phone.

“Why do you have a picture with that fan person as your wallpaper?”

“Because Kayo-chin’s the cutest.” Rin threw herself back against the arm of the couch, hugging the pillow and grinning.

“Kayo-chin?”

Rin shrugged, “Cute nickname for the cutest girl.”

“Where is she?” Nico had spent all of dinner answering very detailed questions and then Rin had dragged the fan girl upstairs to show the girl the bunk bed she was going to get. Nozomi had decided to move into Umi’s room and Umi, ever gallant, had agreed not to strand a compatriot in a lonely hotel.

“Kayo-chin wanted to take a bath and a nap.” Rin yawned and leaned back against the pillow, “Ayase-san wore her out. They ice skated all afternoon. You’d be worn out too.”

“Nico is in excellent shape.”

“Cold makes it harder.” Rin considered tossing the pillow but Nico’s glare deflected the impulse.

Nico didn’t reply, her attention returning to the three women having a chat in the girls’ bedroom. One of the women was upset by how a male resident was treating her and getting support in her distress. Nico decided the two women would have been better off with each other, but nobody decided to be gay or bi. Some poor suckers actually seem to like being het. Nico snorted. Why in the world wouldn’t you want legs and curves and fire and someone who looked pretty and felt soft and sweet bright breathy whisperings ....Nico shook her head. She needed urban stimulation. Or a job to do. Too much quiet and daydreaming about improbable…A door slam and clamoring voices interrupted her thoughts.

“Hey, Maki, race you to the cookies.”

“Honoka, it is literally 5 feet away.”

“Ha! I won.” A pause and some opening and closing noises, then grief…”The cookies are gone.”

Rin leaned over the back of the couch and shouted, “I ate them.”

Another opening noise and then Honoka, sounding apologetic, “Sorry, Maki, there’s none in the freezer either. I can make some from scratch.”

“That’s all right,” Maki came into the room, jacket over her arm, shirt half unbuttoned and mostly untucked, chunky gray wool socks with a red toe cap looking silly with her creamy white tuxedo pants. Seeing Nico and Rin on the couch, she nodded a greeting and curled herself into an armchair by the fire, box of frosted wheat cereal in hand, “Cereal will do. What’re you watching?”

“Terrace House.” Rin grumped, “I told Nico we should watch American.”

Maki considered Nico, and then crunched a handful of cereal, “This is okay. The location is really pretty in this season. Makes me want to snowboard. And Tsubasa’s dad’s restaurant is great.”

Nico clucked her tongue and pulled her phone out, typing rapidly.

“Nico is always on social media.” Rin stated proudly, “Make sure you follow her. She can get you a lot of TWIG fans. Do you have an account for this place?”

“No.” Maki had one personal, very private TWIG account and it was locked.

Honoka bounced into the rocking chair with a bag of chips. “That’s a great idea. What’ll we call it? Cabin in The Woods?”

“That was a horror movie.” Maki crunched another handful of cereal.

Nico snorted, seemingly amused. Maki frowned.

Nico pointed at Maki, “Number.”

“What?”

“Your number.” Nico pointed to her phone.

“You are not posting my number on social media.”

Nico rolled her eyes, “No. Send list. Nico needs... “ Nico’s English ran dry and she waved in the direction of the kitchen, “Eats.”

“There’s ‘eats’.” Maki countered.

“I did a grocery store run yesterday. Everything’s stocked.” Honoka was rocking back and forth.

“No.” Nico was insistent.

Maki got up, leaned over Nico, who avoided staring down Maki’s cleavage by turning aside as the redhead reached for Nico’s phone, “Let me see….miso, bonito flakes, shoyu, sesame seeds, wakame…” Maki frowned.

“Proper breakfast.” Nico stated.

“I like cereal.” Maki insisted.

“Nico’s cooking is for...” a frown, Nico grabbed her phone back and typed quickly, then pronounced slowly, “appreciative tongue.”

“You mean palette.” Maki corrected automatically.

“Like painting?”

“No, Honoka.” Maki stared at the unyielding Nico for a minute, then slid back to her chair and cereal crunching, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Arigato.” Nico bowed her head.

“Why do they even bother with him?” Maki grumbled, as she watched the on screen shenanigans.

“Baka.” Nico decided.

“Truth.” Maki offered Rin the cereal box, Rin grabbed a handful, Nico looked horrified.

“Baka.”

“You already said that.” Maki pointed out.

“Nico meant you.”

“Huh?” Maki grunted.

“Use bowls.” Nico ordered.

“Why?” Rin and Maki echoed.

“Germs?”

“I washed my hands.” Rin defended.

“It’s my food.”

Nico shoved Rin. “You’re both worse than Cotaro.”

“Who’s Cotaro?” Maki asked.

“My little brother.”

Maki hugged the cereal box.

“He’s not here, taking your...feed.”

“Feed is for animals.” Maki stated.

“Nico knows.”

Maki snarled, grabbed another handful and crunched loudly. Nico shook her head and turned back to the screen leaving Maki to glare. Terrace House; they had a system. How did they get random housemates to get along? And sometimes even go out on cute dates. Winter was a great season for cute dates. The ice skating date this season had been super adorable. But what Maki got instead of cute dates was people harassing her food choices. She frowned at Nico, who caught the expression, smirked and stuck out her tongue. Terrace House wasn’t like this, Maki thought. Those people almost made sense. Nico made none.

A/N: I hope everyone is staying safe.

#NicoMaki #NozoEli #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #Tojo Nozomi #Ayase Eli #Hoshizora Rin #Kosaka Honoka #Tiger By The Tail #Holiday #fanfic #Love Live #Love Live School Idol Project

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daggerzine · 4 years

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You Gotta Lose? Hell, Some Of Us Ain’t Dead Yet by Mary Leary

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f0fz3FVBlOE

NRBQ has done so many amazing songs. I never thought much about “Roll Call,” from Tiddlywinks - for one thing, it has a lighter, almost Billy Joel sound that’s more about latter day Terry Adams style than what I think of as the classic Q. Yet just as Adams’ work has grown on me, this track has made its way into my consciousness. The lyrics speak to me more in 2020 than they did when Tiddlywinks was released in 1980, before the D.C.-area music scene had lost Robert Goldstein (Urban Verbs), Kevin MacDonald (brilliant visual artist and scene stalwart who helped me design and layout [The] Infiltrator), Danny Gatton disciple/guitar maverick Evan Johns, bassist Michael Maye from the original H-Bombs, Rick Dreyfuss (Half Japanese/Chumps/Shakemore), Libby Hatch and Michael Mariotte (Tru Fax and the Insaniacs), Sally Be/Berg - REM/Egoslavia/SHE/Robert Palmer), Nurses member Marc Halpern (heroin, 1982), Lorenzo (Pee- Wee) Jones (Tiny Desk Unit) and hybrid rocker Jim Altman (HIV, 1990s). Goldstein, Dreyfuss, Maye and MacDonald succumbed to cancer, while Evan Johns’ deterioration followed years of touring, hard drinking and pushing himself past the limit.

(Top to bottom: Tommy Keene, Kevin MacDonald, Susan Mumford)

Those named above have been joined by Tommy Keene (the Rage/the Razz/solo/Paul Westerberg/Matthew Sweet - cardiac arrest at the age of 59; 2017), TDU’s Susan Mumford (cancer, 2018), David Byers (Psychotics/H.R./Bad Brains), and Skip Groff (Yesterday and Today/ Limp Records/Dischord - seizure, 2019). This is just an imperfect/incomplete naming of D.C.-area losses - I’m sure journalists from other cities could make lists. A horde of New Wave and early alternative musicians have died within the past few years. Whether through the stress of hard living/poverty, substance abuse, cancer or Covid-19, we’re seeing artists pass much earlier than I, anyway, expected them to.

(Top to bottom: Fred "Freak” Smith, Michael Maye with Evan Johns, Tru Fax and the Insaniacs)

We’re already past the loss of all the original Ramones. All the Cramps less Poison Ivy. Joe Strummer. Robert Quine. Hilly Kristal. Lou Reed. As of July, 2020, since 2018 we’ve also lost Andy Gill, Ivan Kral, Genesis P-Orridge, Adam Schlesinger, Danny Mihm, Ric Ocasek, Daniel Johnston, Kim Shattuck, Lorna Doom, Mark Hollis, Keith Flint, Ranking Roger, Mark E. Smith, Glenn Branca, Randy Rampage, Hardy Fox, Pete Shelley, Matthew Seligman, Bill Rieflin, Dave Greenfield, Florian Schneider, Ian Dury, Benjamin Orr, Kirsty McColl and David Roback.

(Top to bottom: Sally Be/Berg, Ranking Roger, Danny Mihm)

Talking about the deaths of talented, gifted creatives is a helluva way to start a column. But here we are. Older performers don’t always get the attention afforded newer, so the rest of this piece shares and celebrates artists from the original New Wave/punk scenes who are still around and active. Many are from the D.C.-area cornucopia I know best, while others have just come to my attention, or seem especially noteworthy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MED9_XK_JVQ

The Zeros’ Javier Escovedo has been steadily emitting tasty Americana-ish rock while occasionally dropping some Zeros sturm-’n’-drang - most recently with Munster Records single “In The Spotlight” and a track on Burger Records’ Quarantunes compilation. Quarantunes is a seven-album affair featuring 140 alternative/punk performers old and new, all of whom wrote songs between March-April 2020. A cursory listen to Volume 2 reveals the recorded version of a good night at a very wild bar, with Zeros still handily kicking ass of all ages.

https://velvetmonkeys.bandcamp.com/album/legacy-of-success?fbclid=IwAR0lJyS0YDE4e3o7LJiITEtw1lhBWMkUX47Vuag1Lf9fs2QozJJKD1lwkes

Velvet Monkeys/B.A.L.L. player and Sonic Youth/Teenage Fanclub producer Don Fleming reports, “We’ve put out new tracks ‘Theories of Rummanetics’ and ‘Legacy of Success.’ Jay has written a few ‘modules’ and Malcolm and I are having fun doing the music,” adding, “I play some electric six string on the new Rob Moss album - it’s fun to be on, with lots of guitar slingers from the DC daze.”

Yup, Rob Moss of Skin-Tight Skin has solicited contributions from Fleming and from Marshall Keith (Slickee Boys), along with a pile of talent including Stuart Casson (Psychotics/Dove/Meatmen), Franz Stahl (Foo Fighters/Scream), Billy Loosigian (Nervous Eaters, the Boom-Boom Band), Nels Cline (Wilco) and Saul Koll (the guy who made guitars for Henry Kaiser and Lee Ranaldo). The set is called We’ve Come Back To Rock ‘n’ Roll.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XdIB8a_0Q4c

Chumps/Workdogs/Jam Messengers player Rob Kennedy apparently has too much energy to throw in the towel - he’s kept recording, performing and making various sorts of lo-fi, DIY mischief that never loses that fresh, ‘70s feeling. Jam Messengers released Night And Day on vinyl in 2017. One of my fave Kennedy tracks, “A Low Down Dirty Shame” speaks to this moment as well as any.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-CRBEGVLE4

Former Tiny Desk Unit/Fuji’s Navy/Rhoda & the Bad Seeds members Bob Boilen, Kevin Lay, Michael Barron and Bob Harvey have released a new Danger Painters joint, Thank Speak Love This Record. Lay joked, “I have a voice made for Morse Code” before revealing his recent work with Rhoda and the Bad Seeds material, released June 30 as Live at Nightclub 9:30. Boilen continues to introduce artists both vital and obscure via Tiny Desk Concerts and All Songs Considered/NPR.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ejQ1GajwfB0

I’ve seen David Arnson play recently and can attest to his proclivity for unfettered growth via Insect Surfers, the instrumental group that originally had some trouble establishing cred. with younger D.C. punks. The Surfers’ most recent release was Living Fossils (2019). Arnson celebrated the band’s 40 years of existence with a European tour in 2019.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5SkIuWIZVkM

Jad Fair says, “Half Japanese will have a new album released in November on Fire Records.” Jad’s art was recently featured at the Hiromart Gallery/Tokyo, while David has created a Facebook page where fans can pick up his colorful images for, well, mere bags o’ shells, as far as we can see - https://www.facebook.com/David-Fair-Painting-107055447700859/

Despite health issues for several members, Bad Brains has collaborated with Element to make BB themed skate wear https://www.elementbrand.com/mens-collection-bad-brains/ and added some killer live tracks to its YouTube channel.

Former WGTB programmers John Paige and Steve Lorber have been presenting Rock Continuum on WOWD-LP FM 94.3 since 2017.

Mike Stax continues to give excellent motivation for hunting down a pair of Beatle boots - Munster released the Loons’ 7” EP, A Dream In Jade Green, last year. The latest issue of Ugly Things, said by Stax to be heavily focused on the Pretty Things’ Phil May, was reported in early July to be nearing publication.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6jSc7gEAv0

Razz (the) Documentary will tell the story of how an uncommonly combustible rock band - especially with the Bill Craig/Abaad Behram line-up - helped spread the Flamin’ Groovies gospel while throwing down oddly compelling originals and taking the two-guitar thing up several notches - the producers are purportedly seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Whether anyone can ever recreate the experience of being in an altered state via obsessive, sometimes conversational repetition of certain chords, anchored by Ted Nicely rethinking just what can be done with a bass guitar, given girth by Doug Tull’s intuitive drumming; with Mike Reidy the heat-seeking missile somewhere near the center... well, I doubt it. ‘Cause at this point you’re feeling no pain and it’s not about drinking; there is no room for anything but water - the beer will be knocked over when you’re this busy matching David Arnson’s other-side-of-the-front-line’s leaps into joydum while PCP’d out yahoos from the sticks learn the hard way that hugging Marshall amps can lead to lifelong repercussions. There (in case nothing I want to say about [the] Razz makes it into the film) - I’ve said it.

Discussions among old friends have confirmed that I’m not alone in being happily surprised at this development - we never expected our actions - which led to the hardcore explosion that’s received a lot more attention... would ever make it into any history book. Yet coverage of many of the D.C.-area musicians featured in this piece also comes with Punk The Capitol, A History of D.C. Punk and Hardcore, 1976-1983. Spring 2021 is the projected date for streaming/DVD release.

Ivan Julian came back from a scary 2015 bout with cancer to do a show in New York in 2016. The cancer has returned. Friends have organized a GoFundMe to raise money for surgery and basic needs.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDB_3by-xkI

The Shakemore fest also refuses to fade, promising “eight hours of streaming steaming video” on August 1. Sounds will be provided by R. Stevie Moore, Velvet Monkeys, Tav Falco’s Panther Burns, Half Japanese, Johnny Spampinato, Weird Paul and the Chumps, among many, many others.

Despite having played at CBGB and other alternative venues in 1979, at the height of the New Wave, Gary Wilson’s work is so distinctive, he’s rarely been included with any musical genre other than the oft-vague “experimental” category. Folks were too unmoored by his visceral performances to get behind him. Wilson’s 14th album, Tormented, was released by Cleopatra in February.

Paul Collins recently published a book that he wrote with Chuck Nolan; I Don’t Fit In: My Wild Ride Through the Punk and Power Pop Trenches with the Nerves and the Beat (Hozac Books).

As “Heath,” Michael Layne Heath, a journalist who contributed to (the) Infiltrator and many other ‘zines, published My Week Beats Your Year: Encounters with Lou Reed in May (Hat & Beard Press).

In April, X released its first album in 35 years; Alphabetland.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pZ1I-laItPI

As exciting for me as any of the above is Richard Hell with the Heartbreakers’ 2019 release of Yonkers Demo 1976. Hell’s “You Gotta Lose” is one of my picks for best punk/new wave singles of all time. The Heartbreakers version is, predictably, messier than the Robert Quine guitar-spiked classic. Its more excessive charms are growing on me...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48QnsysCN_A

This piece could go on and on - compiling it has been exhausting. The best part has been the response to my social media call for any info I didn’t have re: the D.C.-centric scene I left for New York in 1983. Musicians anxious to keep their compadres’ names alive have hammered that post with 138 comments to date. Urban Verbs percussionist Danny Frankel, who’s played with a colorful spread of artists including Beck, Marianne Faithful, Lou Reed, John Cale and k.d. Lang, made a point of being sure I knew about the passing of Marc Halpern, a source of obvious pain. People were worried I wouldn’t mention John Stabb (Government Issue - 2016), rockabilly player Billy Hancock (2018), Fred “Freak” Smith (Strange Boutique/Beefeater - murdered in Los Angeles, 2017), John Hansen (Slickee Boys - 2010), record store owner/Wasp Records starter/music supporter Bill Asp, Jimmy Barnett of The Killer Bees, and David Byers.

One of the hardest for me to write about is Chris Morse, whose 1984 passing from a drug overdose wrenched so many - I managed to get an obituary into, I think, The New York Rocker (that physical trek was part of a long-ago blur; a very hot day of traipsing over steaming concrete in a narrow-skirted dress to deliver the copy). Chris popped up in my dreams for years - one “visitation” pushed me to write a poem about it in the ‘90s. Morse, who played in Rhoda & The Bad Seeds and worked as a doorman at The Pyramid after moving to NYC in the early ‘80s, was on one of the Urban Verbs’ early flyers. I’m on another.

(Top to bottom: Me in an early Verbs flyer/photo shot at the Atlantis; Chris Morse on another Verbs flyer)

I ended up getting so burnt out on the responsibility of populating this sad roll call, I’ve started a memorial page for them all on Facebook. The nature of truly alternative music is such that many of its lights still fail to fill the pages of major publications. Many of these lights gave a great deal of their lives, if not everything, for the art they believed in. It’s good to remember them, and those heady early days. It’s good to enjoy what we still can.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cA3IfK76mmI

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ahgaseda · 5 years

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jype did our boys dirty again hold me back sis im so mad rn 😠😡🤬🤬

I see some discussion about this on my dash and I’m gonna come at it from an analytical perspective because why not lol

First and foremost, JYPE is a business and their main goal, focus and priority in life is to make that money. Got7 is an international powerhouse, we all know this, which is why they get the bulk of their money from physical album sales and concert tours.

Notice how JYPE almost always sells repacks of albums. Usually with multiple versions and a shit ton of photocards. This is where Got7 excels - in physical album sales. International fans generally can’t stream on Korean music sites because they don’t have access. To pick up the slack, we buy albums to boost sales.

Got7 is not popular in Korea. That is why their digital sales are weak and they don’t chart well on Melon. Korea does not give two shits about Got7 and after five years I don’t think they ever will. So why would JYPE spend a ton of money to promote Got7 in Korea when Korea has not and will not support our boys?

This can be chalked up to profit margins. JYPE can literally do the bare minimum with making albums and doing concerts and they know the international fanbase will do the rest. It’s not in their best interest to shell out money in Korea when Korea is not going to maximize their profit. Korea has proven time and time again they are not going to support our boys.

I’m not saying Got7 doesn’t have fans in Korea because there definitely are plenty of K-ahgases, but the Korean population as a whole is just not interested in Got7 or their music. The boys have referenced this many times about being popular internationally and not domestically. It’s been 5 years. I think them being popular in Korea is a foregone conclusion.

It sucks. I hate it for them. Especially the Korean members. But it seems they’re coming to terms with it. International ahgases have had their backs every time. We put them on the map and bought JYPE a new fucking building complete with an organic cafeteria or some shit.

I haven’t said all this as a way of saying don’t be mad about it. Be mad. 7 for 7 is my favorite album and I’m still bitter as all hell for the disrespect it was given by JYP. They promoted it for a week and a half and didn’t even order enough albums. It was the first title song made by one of the members and JYPE should have done right by it.

I’m sure it’s been said so many times already but let’s try to focus on the music and show love to our boys whenever we can. I know it’s frustrating because we want to give them everything and we want them to succeed and they sure as hell deserve it. At the end of the day we’ve done the best we can and a lot of it is out of our hands.

I wholly believe the boys when they say they are staying together for a long time. I don’t think they just say it to appease us. We are lucky in that we as a fandom have such a lovely relationship with them. Think of all the songs they have written not only FOR us but TO us. It’s special and numbers on a chart can never take away from that.

This bitch baby rant is brought to you by coffee and the new album Spinning Top Between Security and Insecurity available now! 🙌🏻

#replies #anon #got7

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 5 years

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Part XIII - The Untimely Downfall of Strangers

Maybe the lyrics and the melodies would leave her feeling just as confused as I did in New York when she disappeared in the middle of the night.

Maybe the pictures I drew in the songs would leave her feeling as empty as I was that winter. I could only hope.

7.5k wc

read parts 1 - 12 here

AN: Thanks so much for reading!!!! So interested to hear your thoughts on what is going to transpire with Harry and Margot. If you like my work, please REBLOG because where I come from, sharing is caring.

THEN - Day 1534

I knew I needed to get out of my parent’s house. If it weren’t for the fact that I was 21 and my social life was minimal, I might not feel so strongly about it.

But seeing as Ben and Sara were home from college and meeting up with friends from high school--it got me thinking that maybe I didn’t have enough of a social circle.

Coming home from Tennessee made me realize that my social circle mostly existed of people who worked for me in one way or another--throw my boyfriend, his band, and the people who worked for them into the mix and I felt pretty fulfilled.

But suddenly, I was back in California for 12 months of minimal interaction with people outside of my immediate family and Sinead. I was lonely. I was bored. And I didn’t really know what to do about it.

Which is why, a whole year after I left Harry in New York, I somehow talked Maya into playing basketball with me in the driveway.

“Your free throw sucks,” she said--holding the basketball in the air before throwing it in my direction. Maya’s senior season was about to end--so she was open to embarrassing me for only our mom and Pete to see.

I shot the ball again and watched as it missed the hoop entirely--Maya didn’t even make an attempt to get my rebound. “Yeah, well--not all of us are high school basketball stars.”

She rolled her eyes--giving me a hard time in jest. “Not all of us left high school to go on tour.”

“Touché,” I said, dodging the ball that she passed back to me--this time with more force and speed. I reached a hand out to stop it, keeping my body a safe distance in case it developed a mind of its own.

“How do you feel today?”

Her words seemed nonchalant, but I knew her question was loaded. What she really meant was are you a mess inside on the one year anniversary of your life ceasing to exist? She walked towards the hoop in our driveway, reaching for her water bottle as I smoothed out the messy hair that came loose from my ponytail.

I shrugged my shoulders, wishing that the sunset didn’t remind me of him.

“Fine,” I said.

“Okay and now for your truthful answer,” Maya prompted, gaining a laugh from me as I walked to meet her by the grass.

I thought of Maya on the basketball court--her high school’s female version of Troy Bolton. I’d been dragged along to plenty of her basketball games and Ben’s soccer games--my mom seemed just as excited to watch Maya rule the court as she did to see me fill up the Rose Bowl.

“I just wonder what he’s doing.”

She took another swig of water and then handed it to me. “Would you ever reach out?”

I let out a sarcastic laugh after I sipped. “And say what? I miss you--I shouldn’t have left you--I suck?”

Maya kept her eyes on me--her silence was her answer: yes. I could say that if I wanted to.

I groaned and walked back to my place on the court, watching as she bounced the ball twice before passing it to me. “I’m sure he wonders what you’re doing, too. You pretty much fell off the face of the earth.”

I tried to shoot again, the sound of the ball on the rim echoed off of the trees that separated our house from the Toluca Lake neighborhood. “I didn’t fall off the face of the earth.”

“You literally finished tour, went to rehab, came home, and haven’t posted anything on social media. No music, no interviews. People at school used to ask if me you were dead.”

I rolled my eyes, watching as she shot the ball from the box, a gust of wind blew through our private yard.

When I didn’t respond, she laughed. “I’m just saying. He--of all people--is probably the most curious about what you’re up to.”

“I’m sure he thinks about it--,” I paused, “in between his fantasies of murdering me.”

“You’re dramatic,” she waved me off. “He probably wants to call you. I bet he’s a mess today.”

“You don’t know that. He was a shell of himself during your decline.”

My decline. I rolled my eyes.

That was the thing about Maya--she was thoughtful and introspective and observant, and most importantly, ridiculously mature for a 17 year-old. She knew Harry well--even if she met him for the first time when she was just thirteen.

She shot the ball and then did it again--a three pointer. She tossed it to me and I didn’t even catch it--reaching for it so hard that I nearly lost my footing. “What was your impression of that time?” I brought my hand up to shield my eyes from the setting sun--I’d never really asked her what it was like for her.

“Of your decline?”

“Yes,” I made a face. “My decline.”

She put a hand on her hip and let out a sigh. “You were a mess. It was obvious to everyone--Harry was, like, I don’t know--a chicken with his head cut off.”

I laughed at the last part a little--the image playing through my head as I went to retrieve the ball that had bounced past me.

“I don’t know why he didn’t just address it more directly,” she commented, her words almost more to herself than to me.

I felt the need to defend him for some reason. “I mean--he did address it,” I said. “I just lied to him a lot.”

“He gave up too easily, though. He knew you weren’t okay and he should have pressed you harder.”

“I didn’t see you pressing me harder.”

“I’m your little sister. I could tell you the house was on fire and you wouldn’t listen to me.”

Partially true. She held out her hands as if to summon the ball from me. I tossed it to her and watched as she dribbled it a few times and then shot it, the soft sound of the nylon net against the ball as she turned to look at me again. “I’m right.”

“He did give up too easily--I agree with that. But I think he did the best he could.”

It felt strange to say it--it felt weird to talk about him as if I weren’t mad and as if I wasn’t upset that he didn’t call. It’d been a whole year--and tonight, despite the fact that it was November, felt eerily similar to the driveway scene I’d replayed in my head a thousand times.

We’d sat on the grass only a few feet away, our hands brushing against each other when we stood to have dinner. He seemed to watch me with a smirk and something about him made me feel like I didn’t have to try so hard.

I didn’t have to be Margot Jones 24/7. I could just be.

So maybe that’s why I defended him. Maybe it was because out of all the things that had happened between us--all the things we can’t ignore--making me fall in love was my favorite.

NOW - Day 1729

Sinead sat at the counter while I pushed around scrambled eggs in a frying pan that my mom bought for me when I moved in.

It was late morning--nearly 11am when Sinead showed up--but she said she had good news when I opened the door with narrowed eyes. She’d been showing up unannounced more and more often, and now that I wasn’t as miserable and grouchy as I’d once been, I think she enjoyed my company a little more.

“So--it just says they’d love to meet. They don’t even mention the old contract or anything like that. Just that they would talk about it.”

I let my shoulders slump as steam floated up above my head. “I dunno--that makes it all real.”

“You’re already recording it,” Sinead said simply, her tone more serious than I would have liked.

I turned around to face her, letting my hands rest on the granite behind me. “Sinead--it’s pretty laissez faire right now. We’ve done, like, three songs. I’d hardly call it an album. Who even knows if they’ll go together.”

“The songs?”

“Yeah,” I turned back around, unable to ignore the thoughts of Harry in my head. “They’re all old, so far. Half old, at least. I haven’t written a lot of new stuff. They’re all just things I was sitting on. And they’re really different from anything I’ve put out before. Less pop and more--indie, I guess.”

She looked up from her phone for the first time and seemed to soften her expression. “I just think that you’re most you when you’re creating. You’ve been bored lately.”

“I was locked up and went to therapy a shit ton,” I defended my empty schedule. “I needed a second.”

“I’m not saying it’s bad,” she stood from her stool and walked towards the Keurig. “I’m just saying that I think you’re ready. Even if you’re afraid.”

She didn’t press me any further. In fact, she was quiet until I sat beside her on the deck and forked a bite of food into my mouth.

“Does Harry know you’re recording?”

I nodded, my eyes hidden behind my sunglasses as I watched a few surfers try to catch a wave. “We haven’t spoken in more detail than that, though.”

“Well, should I tell John you’re down to meet or no? If it’s too soon it’s too soon, but I don’t think he’ll pressure you. He knows what happened.”

What happened. I rolled my eyes a bit--thankful she couldn’t see them beneath the shaded glass. What happened is I was burnt out. I was working more hours a week at 17 than most people do in mid-life. Being me was a constant job and I had a boyfriend who was regularly on the other side of the planet singing love songs to stadiums of girls who wished I didn’t exist.

I’d release an album and piss people off for being too honest. Tone it back and I was called too mysterious. I couldn’t please everyone, so I stopped trying. Forgive me for losing my shit.

“I’ll go,” I said with a lift of my shoulders to show my lack of emotional attachment--however fake it was. “But we can’t tell Harry.”

Sinead thought on that for a second--licked her lips--and then smiled. “Okay.”

THEN - Day 1308

There were nights when the thought of Margot didn’t seem to swirl in my head. Nights when the alcohol was plenty and the music was loud and laughter seemed to fill the air. Those nights were what I lived for--or, they were what I needed to live.

I wasn’t thrilled with the way everyone seemed to settle in on the couch when we returned from a restaurant downtown. Mitch’s eyes were looking more sleepy with every second and Jeffrey seemed glued to his phone.

“C’mon guys,” I said, clapping my hands together as I made a move towards the kitchen. “Who needs a drink?”

I scanned the room--none of them seemed to flinch at that. Out of the eight people in front of me, Mitch was the only one who even looked up at the sound of my voice.

“Mitchell? Fancy some rum?”

“Nah, man,” he shook his head, standing from the couch with an apologetic look on his face. “I’m tired. I’m just gonna head upstairs.”

I frowned at that--now letting my eyes sweep back to the rest of them. “What’s the deal? The night is young! Why are we all acting like old ladies?”

Jeffrey looked up at this, clearing his throat as he adjusted on the couch. “Harry, man, we’re tired. We’ve partied the last three nights after working all day. Let’s just have a quiet night in.”

My stomach seemed to sink at his words. A twinge of anger passed through my chest and I felt my eyebrows meet in the middle of my forehead. “We don’t need a quiet night, I don’t need a quiet night.”

Mitch seemed to slip up the staircase--a few of the others following behind without any words.

“I thought we came here to have fun,” I called after them, hearing my voice echoing off the walls of the stairs and the foyer, following them up the steps to the second floor. “Work hard, play hard, right?”

“Harry,” Jeffrey was now at the counter, standing in front of me with his mouth set in a thin line. “Are you alright, man? D’ya wanna talk?”

I let out an angry noise before dropping his eye contact, my hands coming to rest on the cool granite of the counter. “Talk about what, Jeffrey? Talk about the fact that I got fucking dumped and it’s been a few months and I’m not over it? Or about the fact that every fucking song we’ve written so far is about her and her emotional fucking baggage?”

He seemed to wince at my swearing--or maybe it was the fact that my eyes were now filled with tears.

“You want to talk about that?” I pressured, watching as he let out a sigh and shook his head.

“You’re writing songs about her because you’re feeling, man. You’re feeling a lot right now and you’re processing it. I promise it won’t feel this way forever.”

I appreciated his attempt at soothing me, but it felt like the only thing that would work was a shot glass filled with the rum that sat beside my hands on the counter. “Feels that way.”

He nodded. “I know. But--just rest and chill for a while. We can’t drink every night. We can’t party every single night. Go upstairs and sleep and channel this energy into making a good fucking album to show her what she’s missing.”

I laughed a bit at that--I wanted it to be true. I’d hoped from the second I signed the contract with the label to come down here and make it that she’d hear it one day and wonder what had happened. Maybe the lyrics and the melodies would leave her feeling just as confused as I did in New York when she disappeared in the middle of the night.

Maybe the pictures I drew in the songs would leave her feeling as empty as I was that winter.

I could only hope.

NOW - Day 1732

Margot didn’t know I was coming home to L.A., and I wanted to keep it that way. Out of my own selfish fear that she’d tell me not to or she’d worry about what people would think, I wanted the 5 hour plane ride from the East Coast to be relaxing. After all, promo tours were almost as tiresome as getting back together with your ex.

When I landed at the small regional airport in Burbank, I called her and listened to the voice message that had been updated since 2015. She sounded older, more mature, somewhat vague, and like she probably wouldn’t call you back as soon as she could.

I called Sinead next, hoping to find a location to head towards, seeing as I was already in a car heading West into town. Again, no answer. It was Nick who finally did.

“Hey--yeah, I’m pretty sure she’s with Nathan.”

“In the studio?” I clarified, tugging at my lower lip as I watched the California landscape take shape outside my window. A noise of confirmation from Nick. “For herself?”

“Uh,” he seemed to stall, likely wondering if he should backtrack or carefully considering how to proceed. “I don’t know--have you called her?”

“Yeah--no answer.”

Had I called her? It felt like a bit of an insult--almost as if he were implying that I should know more than I did, and the fact that I didn’t held significant meaning.

I was doing my best--which is something it felt like everyone ignored. I was trying with every bone in my body to glue the pieces back together to resemble what her and I had once had, minus the cracks and the flaws and the lack of communication about emotions.

With Nick off the phone and a better idea of where she was, I gave the address of Nathan’s studio to the driver, watching as the Hollywood streets turned to the hills of Sherman Oaks.

The small house on a residential street was just as quiet as I remembered--except only now the shutters were blue instead of black. I wondered if the inside would be the same--the same couch where I’d watched Margot record the first song we’d written together. The kitchen off the side that Nathan kept filled with her favorite snacks.

When I knocked on the door, there was silence for a moment, birds chirped in the yard--the soundproofed walls didn’t give me a taste of what was happening inside.

Nathan, with a bit of surprise but a smile nonetheless (thank God), opened the door and called Margot’s name. “Someone’s here to see you.”

He stepped aside to let me in, pausing awkwardly in the small back room until Margot appeared with furrowed brows.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, moving towards me to let her arms wrap around my middle. I pressed a kiss to her forehead, thankful for the fact that, while she did seem confused, she wasn’t angry or upset.

“Few days off. Figured I’d rather spend them here than New York.”

She smiled up at me (apparently that was the right answer), but took her arms away from my sides, crossing them over her chest as she eyed me up and down. “And you just knew I was here?”

“I talked to Nick--I think he didn’t want to tell me.”

She let out a laugh and shrugged a bit at that. Nick hadn’t ever hated me--I think my relationship with him was more affected by his fear of what would happen if things didn’t work. When we were young, he’d tell Margot that relationships are great but work was important. I think it stressed him out for her career to be so intertwined with mine--any slight movement on either side of the boat and the whole thing could capsize. He wasn’t wrong.

Margot moved aside to let me hug Nathan--I’d spent plenty of late nights with them in this house, bringing food from In n’ Out or coffee from Starbucks.

“Good to see you, man,” he said, clapping a hand on my back before pulling away.

“You too--how’re things? How’s Stacy?”

“She’s good, Lily’s almost three--it’s wild.” He pulled out a phone to show me a picture, both Margot and I smiled at the screen, though I figured she’d already seen it.

When they led me back towards the board I wanted to ask but I didn’t. I didn’t let the words trail out of my mouth to inquire about what was happening--was she recording? Was it hers? Would it be released?

Instead, she texted Sinead to make sure she’d bring my bags into the house and let her know that we’d both be home for dinner.

Eventually, she looked up at me from her seat on the couch. Nathan had disappeared on a phone call, giving us a few seconds alone.

“Aren’t you going to ask?”

“About what?” I feigned confusion, eliciting a giggle from her as she lifted her feet to rest on my lap. “This?” I motioned around the room--searching for clarification. “Your professional endeavors are none of my business.”

She rolled her eyes at my wording. “They are if you’re sleeping in my house.”

“Yeah about that,” I faked a frown. “Can I sleep over tonight? M’really not feeling the drive to Agoura Hills.”

She whacked me in the stomach playfully, another side eye as she leaned back to rest her head on a throw pillow behind her. She closed her eyes. “I’m recording my own stuff.”

There it was. I shifted a bit, letting the words settle in the air between us before clearing my throat. I nodded. I was supportive. I wanted her to do what she wanted. God knows everyone would be more than eager to listen to it--they were dying to hear from her and understand what had happened.

“New or old?”

“Both.”

Another nod. Apparently words were escaping me.

She opened one eye to peer over at me. “Do you care?”

“Care?” I asked, confused about her wording. “I want you to do what you think is best.” The words fell out of my mouth like hot lava. It was a phrase I’d said so many times.

Should I extend the tour and spend more time away from you? Whatever you think is best. Should I do more promo for the album and lose more sleep? Whatever you think is best.

Should I do this interview? Do this magazine cover? Where should we go on vacation?

She knew it just as well as I did--which, I’d assume, is why she rolled her eyes before sitting up and staring at me straight on. “That’s not much of an answer.”

It used to be plenty.

“I don’t know what you’re asking me,” I said honestly. “Do I care as in am I interested and supportive and all of that? Yes. Do I care as in am I worried that you’re going to--” I cut myself off.

I hadn’t thought through the words enough yet. I knew she was thinking about it. I knew she was with Nathan that time I’d called her after she spoke to Ryan Seacrest. I wasn’t completely in the dark--but I didn’t know enough to save me from the ruminating over worst case scenarios.

“Am I going to what?” She pushed. “Do the same thing you did to me?”

Ouch. I sighed, letting my head fall against the back of the couch in exasperation. “Yeah. That.”

She srunched her lips in thought, her eyes trailing over the room. Past the sound board, past Nathan’s chair, past the coffee table where I knew she did a lot of writing. And then they fell on me.

“You can’t blame me for wondering.”

“I don’t,” her shoulders moved with her words. “But you can’t expect me to not be honest.”

“I was honest too.”

“No--you made it sound like I left without a word and like you had no idea what was going on.”

“I didn’t!” I defended suddenly--the emotion just as raw inside of me as if it were November of 2015. “I felt like I had no answers and then suddenly you weren’t there. I never planned on not being with you. I always factored you into my life.”

The words looked like they stung, and I hadn’t meant for them to. Margot seemed to retract her feet and become smaller as she shook her head. “I didn’t plan on fucking you up, Harry. I made a decision based on what I thought was best.”

She threw my words back at me like poison. I broke eye contact. For a minute I wondered if we’d ever be able to move past it--the night in New York when she cut the cord.

She shook her head a little, staring at the hardwood floors beneath us. “I have to tell my story and say how I feel. If I don’t do that--I’m just doing the same thing as before.”

She could tell I didn’t understand when I narrowed my eyes.

“I have to be honest and write what I feel and tell my side because if I don’t I’ll resent it and I’m not going into this with any type of agreement to keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to be silenced by fear or anxiety or anything.”

I nodded--almost taken back by her honesty, a breath of air escaping my lips. “I want you to do what’s right for you. I just don’t want to look like an asshole.”

I smirked a little--knowing full well that I probably would. Maybe not in every song. But in some.

A door shut down the hall, letting us know that Nathan was off the phone. Margot laughed and rolled her eyes playfully at me. “That makes two of us.”

THEN - Day 652

“Get your feet off the table,” my mom’s voice sounded from behind me as I . scrolled mindlessly on my phone. She let a hand trail down my hair as she passed behind the leather couch in my green room.

I rolled my eyes and let out a scoff at her. “Mom--I can put my feet on my table if I want.”

“It’s called basic manners, honey, okay?” She sat in an armchair beside me--looking over her cell phone quickly before clicking it shut. She brought her eyes up to mine, then sighed. “I just met with Nick. They want to add another date in San Diego.”

“Okay,” I nodded, dropping my own phone to my side before crossing my arms, trying to pull the San Diego date into my head. August. Sometime in August. But I didn’t know when.

“Margot, you don’t have to say ‘yes’ to everything.”

“It’s my tour,” I reminded her, knowing full well that the decision ultimately came down to me. I hadn’t even spoken to Nick yet--and as I’d gotten older, my mom took on less and less of a managerial role. It felt better to have more separation between work and family, especially once I no longer needed her permission to lawfully engage in work.

“Margot Leanne,” my mother shook her head at me. “What has gotten into you?”

I rolled my eyes again and pulled my legs up in front of my chest. The last thing I needed with two hours before doors was my mom acting as if I needed to run everything by her.

In some ways, 2014 felt like the height of my career. I was on my 3rd headlining tour--my second sold out arena tour--I’d won four Grammys in February, and my time off was spent jetting between countries to visit my boyfriend on his sold out arena tour. I didn’t need my mother telling me to get my feet off of the coffee table.

“Nothing has gotten into me,” I said quietly, hoping she’d drop the issue and give me some space. She didn’t seem to understand how much I needed lately.

Days on tour were hot and busy and the nights were even more hectic. I spent most days doing radio interviews in cities we visited, meeting with VIPs--mainly the family or daughters of the arena executives who had been connected to a small meet and greet. Then there’d be wardrobe fittings, going over tricky dance moves, soundcheck, meet and greet with fans, and then I was lucky to get an hour or two of quiet before I had to start hair and make up.

Pair that with being on stage in front of 50,000+ people for two and a half hours and by the time I got into bed on the bus, my ears were ringing, my head was spinning, and my heart was asking me how long this would all last.

Would I make it another 10 years? Could I do another four arena tours--like my contract demanded? How many albums would the label want out of me? Was I writing this next one fast enough? Soon I’d have to start recording late at night on the bus once Nathan flew out. Write, sing, record, perform. Smile, be grateful, be cheery. Repeat.

It was hard to quiet my thoughts at night, but the hum of the highway beneath the wheels would usually lull me to sleep. And when it didn’t, I called Harry.

THEN - Day 1629

When Sinead showed up at my house a few days ago to tell me that Harry was releasing a single, I knew someone who’d be more shocked than I was.

“I can’t believe that asshole has the balls to write some song and release it,” Cara rolled her eyes and sipped at the iced coffee in front of her. I sat in the kitchen of her West Hollywood apartment, hoping the maintenance man would be over soon to fix her air conditioner.

The spring air was warm in Southern California, and Cara had nothing but shorts and a sports bra on when I showed up.

Cara and I met when we were 14--early in my music and acting career and early in her high school career. She lived down the street from me when we first moved to California, and for some reason, she was one of the only people I felt I could trust.

She wasn’t too shaken by the whole fame thing--in fact, she was more concerned with whether or not I could help her meet Channing Tatum than she was about the fact that I was signing record deals and had a popular sitcom.

“He’s not an asshole,” I said, wiping the condensation on my plastic Starbucks cup before a drip found the top of her counter. “He’s just--I don’t know. I have no clue if it’s about anything. Could be about a fucking staircase, for all I know.”

“Yeah, I just,” she shook her head, running a hand through her long hair. “I hope he doesn’t stir shit up.”

“Uh, it’s going to stir shit up. I’ve kept such a low profile no one even knows I’m here,” I motioned around her apartment--implying that there had once been a time where Cara had to come to me. I got sick of sneaking up the back stairs of her apartment complex and through the hoard of paparazzi that would follow behind my car.

“I could call him--you know, reach out and ask if it’s about you.” There was a knock on the door--hopefully the maintenance man.

“No,” I shook my head, watching as she rounded the counter to greet whoever was on the other side. “No one is reaching out to him.”

“We’ll call Niall! I’m sure Niall knows.”

“He doesn’t--I texted him the other night.”

Cara pulled the door open, revealing a man in a blue collared shirt. He looked more like a pool boy than a maintenance man--and he introduced himself as Pete.

Cara showed Pete where her central air ducts were--and soon he was headed out to the back of the building, hoping to find the problem. Cara relocated to her couch and I followed behind, bringing my iced coffee with me.

“Or Niall’s just not telling you,” she shrugged.

“He would tell me if he knew--or warn me, I guess.”

She gathered her blonde hair to one side and used the hair-tie around her wrist to hold it in place. “Y’think Harry’s pissed that Niall and you are still so close?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” I lied, letting my tongue find the green straw before sucking. “I lost compassion for him when I went to rehab and he didn’t call.”

Cara laughed, rolling her eyes and shaking her cup to make sure she’d gotten all of the coffee out--it was just ice now. “He wanted you to get help--so you do, and then he doesn’t call. Typical man.”

I was quiet at that. I didn’t know if I’d call Harry typical. So many things about him and about us felt anything but--but I knew what Cara meant. And she had a point. He wanted me to get help, to go somewhere and get better, but when I did, he disappeared.

So was that what he really wanted after all?

But I couldn’t let myself think that way--I couldn’t let the what ifs occupy my mind and I couldn’t sit around wondering how things would be different if I hadn’t left, hadn’t gone to Tennessee, if he had called.

I went. He didn’t call. I learned ways to handle the waves of panic that settled in my bones when I was left with the quiet of my bedroom and the uncertainty of a Sunday afternoon.

I wasn’t paralyzed anymore by the fear of the unknown.

“You okay?”

I let out a sigh but nodded--thankful to have someone like Cara who’d stuck around through it all. I couldn’t say the same for a lot of my friends. “I just can’t believe he’s not in my life, you know?”

She nodded, a thoughtful look on her face as she waited for me to say more. I think Cara was used to me being pretty tight lipped about things, so when she got something out of me, she wanted as much as she’d get,

Lucky for her, I was under-caffeinated, hot, and had nothing to do on a Friday morning.

“I didn’t think--I dunno,” I stopped myself.

“What?”

I looked around the room, feeling the emotion build in my chest as I spoke. “I really thought he would have called by now.”

NOW -- Day 1734

Margot peered over the counter--a wrinkle in her forehead as she read over the board one more time. It was early afternoon, so it’s not like there was a line behind us or anything, but her indecision felt eerily similar to how things had been.

“Just a chocolate milkshake,” she spoke finally, her eyes flickering up to smile at the girl who’d fill our order.

We’d dipped into a small ice cream shop on the Pacific Coast Highway--and after a few pictures with the two girls behind the counter, Margot took on the task of deciding what she wanted. Now, after ordering, she smiled up at me.

“We came here when were, like, 19--do you remember that?”

“S’why I suggested it,” I said, slipping my fingers between hers as I pulled her towards the register.

Things felt calm--or, more importantly, Margot felt calm. She didn’t seem to check over her shoulder every second for a camera or obsessively fix the sunglasses on her face to shield her eyes from whoever was watching.

She leaned against me as we waited for our order--my arms wrapped around her shoulders in an display of affection. I was surprised she was okay with it--she used to be more standoffish about that type of thing.

Once I finally got my sundae and she finally got her shake--which she beamed at with wide eyes--she sat across from me at a small table in the corner of the room.

“How are you feeling?” She asked me suddenly--her eyes on her hands as she fiddled with the straw wrapper in her fingers.

“How am I feeling?” I repeated her question, checking that I hadn’t misheard her. She nodded. “‘Bout what, lovie?”

“About all of this,” she shrugged a bit, taking a sip of her treat before bringing her eyes back up to mine.

I let out a breath of air through my nose--hoping to string together the right words so as to not alarm her. But then, when she shifted in her chair, I realized I was doing it.

I was dancing around her, fearful of saying the wrong thing, but even more fearful of her reaction. I cleared my throat--she stared at me with eyes that told me she knew I was thinking.

“I feel like I’m taking it day by day,” I said honestly, watching her closely for any sign of emotion. She nodded, a smile pulling at her lips. “What?”

She tilted her head to the side as if to shrink away from the question. I reached a hand forward to poke her arm--eliciting a giggle from her as she sipped at her shake again.

She sighed, rolling her eyes a little. “I think that’s the only way we can do this. One day at a time.”

I nodded--a sense of relief washing over me upon hearing we were on the same page. The relief, though, seemed to give me the necessary clearance to be more honest with her.

“S’hard, obviously, to be away and be working right now. But m’really happy that we’re giving this a shot.”

“Me too,” she nodded slightly, her eyes scanned over the empty room. At 1pm on Tuesday, we figured we were safe to dip inside here and make it out relatively unscathed. There was laughter from the two girls behind the counter--who seemed to sheepishly watch us enjoy the ice cream--but she didn’t seem to mind too much.

“How do you feel?” I turned the question around--always hoping for a better view of Margot’s mind. How did the wheels turn inside? How did she manage to handle all of the emotions I knew she felt without always giving it away that she was feeling them?

“I feel--” she hummed a little, thinking of the right word before picking up the straw wrapper again. “Nervous, I guess.”

“Nervous?”

She dropped the paper on the table and nodded--another sip before bringing her eyes back to me.

“About what?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged awkwardly--and I think we both knew she was lying. “I mean, people know, and they’re starting to really know,” she motioned with her chin to the girls behind the counter--who’d undoubtedly already posted their pictures to the internet. “And people haven’t always liked it.”

I hummed in agreement--there was no use in denying that people were talking and we were spending time together and there was now a mountain of evidence that we were, in fact, back together. Whether or not either of us had confirmed it publicly--what did it matter? Pictures of me leaving her house--pictures of us out to dinner, in the car, my arm around her shoulders walking into an office building in Encino where we saw Hillary--seemed to solidify the thought in everyone’s head.

The look on her face made me concerned, though. “Do you not want them to know?”

“No--I don’t care--it’s the truth, I just--” she paused again, scrunching her lips as she seemed to let her mouth catch up with her brain. “I’m trying really hard to talk more. And tell you how I feel and be honest and all of that. But it’s hard and scary--especially when you’re traveling so much for work and when the actual tour starts in the fall. S’bad timing.”

I laughed a little at that--nothing about our relationship seemed to have good timing. She kept her eyes on her hands--the wheels must have been turning, she started speaking again and the words seemed to come out a quicker pace. “And I’m afraid that everyone in your life--your friends and family and the fans--they’re probably not too happy with me.”

“It’s no one’s business,” I said simply. “My friends and family are fine--my life is my life and we all know that my mum and sister want nothing more than for us to just have a baby already.”

She laughed, somewhat reassured as she sipped at her milkshake. “And Niall practically cried tears of joy when we FaceTimed him together that night.”

I laughed, taking another bite of ice cream in front of me. She was quiet for a moment--the air around us settling before she spoke.

“I think it’s going to be an album.”

An album? I felt my eyebrows lift in surprise--the ice cream in front of me was sure to melt now. “The songs?”

She nodded. After our conversation at Nathan’s a few days ago, we hadn’t spoken of it much. I didn’t want to pry and she likely didn’t want to give away too much in the early stages.

“Oh.”

Another nod.

“How’s it going?” I asked slowly, the words came out of my mouth sounding manufactured and awkward.

“Good,” she said simply. “S’nice to be back in the studio and being creative and whatnot. I really like the way the songs are shaping out.”

“Do I get to hear them ever? Or I’ve got to wait like the rest of the world?”

She laughed at this, her lips pulling up into a smile that made my stomach warm with butterflies. “Who knows. I don’t even know if we’ll do a traditional release.”

“What do you mean?”

Her shoulders rose and fell, she picked up the milkshake and tilted it to sip the last of the ice cream inside. “We might not announce it until, like, it’s just released.”

“No promo?” My forehead wrinkled in confusion. It didn’t sound like something Nick would go for--or the label for that matter. But then again, when you’re Margot Jones, they let you make your own rules.

“Might just release it on apple music, spotify, other streaming platforms. This--to me--is less about money and awards and making waves.”

I nodded, urging her to continue. I spooned some ice cream into my mouth.

“It’s more about just putting it out there. I’ve been gone. You were gone from my life. A lot happened. Here’s how I felt.”

Her words, though they made sense, sent a bit of a chill down my spine. I guess I couldn’t blame her for wanting to tell her side of things. I mean--how could I? How could I be upset that Margot Jones--of all people--had a captive audience that was begging to hear her take on things?

I guess I couldn’t--even if I was nervous for what her side entailed. So instead of protesting, I swallowed my pride and reached across the table to hold her hand. “M’proud of you, lovie. I want you to tell your side.”

NOW -- Day 1735

Harry heading to the East Coast for more promo left a quiet wake in the living room of my house. Sinead, who had my laptop set up on the coffee table between us, leaned forward to press play once I settled into my spot on the cushion.

I’d known about the documentary--Harry had mentioned it in passing at Geoffrey’s the first time I saw him. For some reason, though, I pushed it out of my mind until he mentioned it again in front of Sinead. As soon as he left the room, she insisted--with wide eyes--that we watch it one night with a bottle of wine.

I wasn’t afraid, exactly. It’s not like I thought he was going to bad mouth me on camera or do anything purposeful to make me look bad--the songs did enough of that on their own. I think he knew that.

So when the music started to play and he appeared on the screen, Sinead looked over to me and offered a smile. I think she knew how sad I was.

It was strange to be watching something that offered a glimpse into his time without me. I mean--that’s what it was, right? Here’s a documentary of what I did to get over her.

It felt, even more now, like he was offering people a piece of our story and showing them how bad things were. He cut his hair, he stayed in a house on a hill where no one knew his name. I was left with a strange flavor of guilt in my mouth that only slightly disappeared with each sip of chianti.

He drank--like he’d mentioned--to forget about the reality of the world off of the island. And when that didn’t work, he drank more.

I tried to think of the time frame--where was I when he was there? What was I doing? The truth is that I was likely in my bedroom at my mom’s house--or Amanda’s office--hoping to avoid those exact circulating questions about where I was and what I was doing. I couldn’t even run from myself.

“I can’t believe he even wrote this song,” Sinead said quietly, her eyes drifting to mine as the sun set outside. “About sleeping with someone else in an attempt to move on.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” I shrugged--and I meant it. I could tell he wasn’t himself. I could tell he was sad and lonely and confused, slowing coming out of his funk as time wore on and the number days between now and New York climbed. But I still wished that instead of finding someone else to spend the night with, he just picked up the phone.

I don’t think I’d ever not wish for that.

NOW -- Day 1742

I don’t think Margot cared that she wasn’t here. She said she wasn’t ready to be more public and she said she’d rather support me from the sidelines--or, really, from a safe distance in L.A. I’d been briefed by my team on ways to respond. How to answer questions that felt manageable-- or how to avoid the ones that didn’t.

I knew the game and I knew how to keep a steady smile throughout all of it. I was hoping, maybe unrealistically, that no one would put me on the spot. I hoped that there were better things to talk about than whether or not my car in her driveway meant something. I was hoping, truthfully, for an easy night of work and drinks and watching the movie and just getting on with it.

But life was never that easy.

The first question wasn’t too loaded. “How’s Margot--you’ve been spending time with her?”

She’s good. She’s great. We’re enjoying each other’s company.

Fine enough. I could answer that. She knew I’d get asked and she knew I wasn’t going to go out of my way to deny anything. But I also promised I wouldn’t give too much away.

My real concern, I guess, was saying the right thing. After a few years in the business, I felt like I could talk my way out of just about anything, but having Margot involved felt different. I didn’t want to say anything she wouldn’t like--I didn’t want to say anything that made it sound like we weren’t together.

I guess, realistically, a part of me wanted to be honest. And not in the sense that I would tell an interviewer everything there was to know about our relationship, but more so that if someone called her my girlfriend, I didn’t have to backtrack and try to minimize our relationship.

I knew that Margot didn’t like the way the media portrayed me--I mean, I couldn’t say that I always loved it either. But it felt safer to just admit we were together and give Margot some sort of stability and reassurance that I wasn’t going anywhere.

She’d yet to bring up the girl from Jamaica again but I knew it was only a matter of time. I could see it in her eyes when she stared at me in bed--my head on the pillow beside hers only minutes before she’d turn the light out.

I knew she was holding it in and I knew that--finally--she was creating music to let some of that out. I only hoped that it did the trick to release some of the tension and pressure between us.

A woman with a big smile in a blue dress seemed to catch my gaze as I made my way down the line of media. She asked about the movie and moving on from the band, and just when I thought she was finished, she spoke again. “Margot Jones--are things back on? It’s pretty clear through your album that you had a lot to say to her, or about her, really,” her voice was inquisitive but pointed, almost as if she knew exactly how I’d answer.

“Uh, y’know, Margot is a great girl and she’s always been an important part of my life, so s’nice to get to hang out with her again. Thanks for coming,” I said to the woman, ready to move my feet to walk away, but she spoke so quickly I couldn’t help but hear her follow up.

“Did you hear that she had a lover in Tennessee? Is his story true?”

I tried to not let the confusion watch over my face in public--that was one of the first things I’d learned. Our publicist had told us early on that the worst thing you could do was let them know you were shocked. Something about fuel on the fire, making more news, the like.

I tried to blink a few times as the security guard behind me pushed me forward, clearly giving me an excuse to not answer and move on through the line of people who were dying to ask me stupid questions.

A lover in Tennessee? Is his story true?

I had to push it out of my mind to get through the rest of the small talk--the questions, the fans, the people who’d been invited to the premiere. A swirling in my head in the London heat made it hard to focus, but once I was able to dip inside the air conditioned loo in the theatre, I pulled out my phone.

A quick google search would likely put my heart to ease. Margot Jones Tennessee lover.

What a strange thing to type--I waited for the webpage to load.

I blinked twice again, trying to make sense of the pictures at the top of the page--pictures of Margot from various events or magazines--and beneath them, small black words seemed to elicit a thundering heartbeat that suddenly brought a pounding to my ears.

Tennessee rehab employee breaks silence: I dated Margot Jones!

#udos #Harry Styles #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fanfiction #Harry Styles fan fic #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #one direction fic #one direction fiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles story #harry styles hetfic #harry styles smut

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zachvillasource · 5 years

Link

By: Kelly Kearney

Q) Congrats on your newest single “Revolver.” Please talk a little bit about the theme of the single and what the lyrics mean to you.

A) “Revolver” is a very unique song for me in that the lyrics were written in a stream of consciousness. This isn’t atypical for me per se, but when it happens it is usually an indication of a very special song. I think it’s about a lot of things for me, as I don’t particularly like telling other people what a song is about for them. Whatever they hear or interpret is truthful for them and that’s important. I think there are darker themes that explore change in there, but honestly, it’s not for me to decide for the listener. That’s not my place.

More below the cut.

Q) Your music has evolved from an EMO/pop punk sound to “Revolver,” a sort of spoken word mixed with synth pop/EDM vibe. What inspired that change?

A) Oh, I still mess with pop punk. Don’t you worry. My band Sorry Kyle is very much alive and well. We are preparing a whole bunch of material that we hope to release soon and that genre is very close to my heart. I’m a greedy musical artist – I like to work on a bunch of different styles and projects at once and they all mash up against each other, influencing me and the sound. In my solo work I really try to not constrict myself to any sort of parameters so I can just create freely. Apparently, that’s what “Revolver” sounds like.

Q) You are a musician and vocalist and compose your own music. What is your composition process like? How do you construct a piece?

A) It’s different every time. The song usually tells me how it wants to be written. Often, I’ll have a melody and a lyrical line in my head and it will just marinate and repeat over and over. One line of a chorus that blossoms from there after a late night of working it through with a guitar in hand. It’s organic; sometimes it takes years and sometimes it takes two hours. “Revolver” was written with an 8-bar track my friend sent me that I looped and beat into submission. After a few minutes the track basically told me what to say and I wrote the lyrics and melody and arranged almost completely in the next couple hours during a layover at an airport. It’s different every time.

Q) How much of a hand do you have in the production of your music?

A) Quite a heavy hand. Many of the synth sounds start on my rig and then in production, I usually work with a producer to refine or modify the sounds to make it fit in the mix. As the vision of the song is framed in that process, I call upon my many talented musician friends to perform in the track. I try to reserve all the guitar work for myself, but honestly, whatever the song calls is what I do. Ben Soldate, who I co-produced “Revolver” with, is wildly creative and working with him gave it a certain edge and modern flushness that sounded satisfying and new to me. So, that was a real pleasure to start that new musical relationship with him. I often hear a level of detail that is infuriating to who I might be mixing with, so when the finish line is in sight I’m often the QC guy and I won’t let it go until I’ve explored every option (within reason) to make the track the best it can be.

Q) Which band or musician sparked your interest in music? Was there a certain musician that inspired you to dive into your own art?

A) Oh, the list is very long. But for this project in particular St. Vincent (a/k/a Annie Clark) has been a long-time inspiration for me. The way she produces guitar sounds and the overall aesthetic is something I find so evocative and challenging to listen to. I never am a passive listener when she is on the speakers. John Mayer is and continues to be a huge influence both as a guitarist, whose solos and notes are always chosen and tasteful, and as a songwriter that really knows how to straddle commercialism and craft. Blink 182, Jimmy Eat World and other bands of my youth continue to be highly influential as well. Oh, and jazz. Of course, Jazz.

Q) When can we expect more music from you in near future? Maybe a full length album and a tour?

A) More music is on the way. Any week now. Full lengths are rare these days, but I’m not scared. I’ll make one. Both my band Sorry Kyle and my solo work will be pumping out records now through 2020.

Q) What are you listening to now? What’s currently on your music playlist?

A) I always have John Mayer’s Heavier Things I’m heavy rotation. This vintage Miles Davis Live in Paris record is on my turntable. I use it to wind down at the end of a long day. Robbie Robertson, Phoebe Bridgers and Tigers Jaw is on Spotify. And my friend Kailynn West with Tiny Stills is just one of the most honest pop punk records I’ve heard in a very long while.

Q) Who in the music industry that would be a dream collaboration for you?

A) Jimmy Eat World. Let’s write a song. John, if you read this, I’d like to collaborate but let’s not cause I’d die on the spot.

Q) Let’s talk a little bit about “American Horror Story: 1984.” You’re playing real life serial killer Richard Ramirez, otherwise known as “The Night Stalker.” It must’ve been a dream, or should we say nightmare, come true to land this role. Had you been familiar with Ramirez prior to booking the role or did you delve into his darkness after you landed “AHS?”

A) After. I had never heard of him before. History has a way of marginalizing extreme violence. But we are human and humans are fascinated with darker themes within. Getting to explore that has been both challenging and enlightening.

Q) How much of your portrayal of Ramirez is your own take on him and how much did you pull from his very public interviews and trial?

A) I did quite a bit of research for the role. I let it marinate and then right before filming I re-analyzed everything that I had collected and worked from the outside to create the shell that Richard might inhabit. I had to leave room for the show to tell me, much like writing a song, what it would be and how it would affect this particular version of Richard.

Q) Working on a Ryan Murphy show is an actor’s dream. What has it been like working with him? Has there been anything you’ve taken from that experience that you will bring with you to other projects?

A) Tenacity. It’s clear that whether Ryan is present physically or not that he is making choices and using his gut instinct to make something he believes in. That sounds very similar to writing a song. It’s brave, it’s risky, and it’s violent.

Q) Are you currently working on any other projects the fans can keep an eye out for?

A) Like I said, the next record is imminent. I’m not good at being not busy.

Q) What would you like to say to everyone who is a fan and supporter of the work you do?

A) Thank you. Without you I wouldn’t be here. We’re building this thing together and I am so grateful to have company and support. Let’s rock.

#zach villa #ahs 1984 #ahs cast #american horror story #interview #article #richard ramirez #*

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grlnxtdr30 · 5 years

Text

Master Story List

13th

Every soul has thirteen chances to find it’s soulmate. Kurt and Blaine are on their 13th life.

A Bite of Klaine

Lifemate. The perfect person for you. Kurt thought he would have to wait a very long time to find his, until he went to Dalton to Spy. Glee/Argeneau crossover.

A Second Bite

How will New Directions and the Warblers react when they learn about Kurt and Blaine? And will Lucian let them remember?

The Final Bite

Now that New Directions know about Immortals, what will become of Kurt and Blaine? Will others find lifemates of their own?

A Kiss For Luck

Alternate Time Line. What if Sexy and Blame it on the Alcohol happened before Silly Love Songs? Warnings in the A/N

Bet On It

Mercedes overhears Blaine calling Kurt’s sexy faces gas pains and sets out to prove him wrong.

Coming To The Tree

Unbeknownst to Blaine, the Anderson men have been living under a curse for three hundred years. Can the McKinley spy break it?

Dalton Boys

Dalton Academy seems like the perfect place for Kurt after The Incident. But is it really perfect?

Dancing Through Life

While traveling with the touring company of Wicked, Kurt meets a curly haired street performer. Will an earthquake bring them together, or will it shake them apart?

First No L, or Whatever

Finn wants to find the perfect gift for his new stepbrother for their first Christmas as a family, but he has no clue what to get the Fashion conscious Diva. Can Kurt’s new gay friend, Blaine help?

He’s Evil, Blaine, E V I L

Something evil is stalking Blaine Anderson, something that wants his blood. Can Kurt protect him, or will the evil seduce the man he loves away from him?

In Dreams He Came

Kurt has just transferred to Dalton, where he meets Blaine Anderson. By day he is infatuated by the dapper Warbler, but by night a mysterious lover infiltrates his dreams. His phantom lover awakens his body with his hands, his mouth, his...Fangs?

Jar of Secrets

A friend of mine told me about an assignment she had her freshman year of college in her psychology class. She called it the Jar of Secrets. This is the Dalton version. Trigger warnings listed at the beginning of each chapter.

Kinky

Oh come on, get your minds out of the gutter! It’s not what you thi...Oh who am I kidding! Proceed!

Klaine, the Musical

The story of Klaine, told through music! You’ll need to use your imagination with this one!

Klaine, the Musical, Dalton Days

Prequel to Klaine, The Musical. Why has Kurt’s life suddenly turned into one musical number after another?

Live Passionately Tonight

Blaine has been hanging out with June Dolloway a lot, and now has missed Kurt’s twenty first birthday. Fed up, Kurt goes out and gets drunk. A chance encounter on the dance floor with a mysterious stranger has consequences Kurt could never have imagined.

Love Potion #9

When Genius teen Kurt Hummel accidently spills a love potion on himself, he finds himself cornered in the locker room by Dave Karofsky. Kurt Flees to Dalton Academy, reinventing himself along the way. Will Blaine Anderson fall for the new Kurt, or will chemistry win out?

Midnight

Werewolves, Zombies, Demons, Vampires. Just your typical Halloween party. Except not all the fiends are wearing costumes. Can Kurt save Lima from the evil that has been unleashed, and still look fabulous by Midnight?

Music and Lyrics

Former member of the boy band, The Warblers, Blaine Anderson’s career is at a stalemate. When Superstar Britt Britt asks him to write a duet for them to record her new album, he jumps at the chance. There’s just one problem. He needs a lyricist to write the words to accompany his music. Enter Kurt Hummel, the strange guy who has come to water his plants.

Operation, Mistletoe

All Kurt wants for Christmas is to kiss his boyfriend under the mistletoe, but someone is always interrupting them!

Reviews Always Welcome

Blaine is a little stressed out. Kurt helps him relax.

Scarves and Coffee

AU Where Kurt and Blaine Don’t meet until Valentines day. Blaine is sitting in the Lima Bean, brooding over the failed GAP attack, when a boy with the most beautiful blue eyes comes looking for his scarf.

Shell

Kurt Hummel’s worst day.

Simply Irresistible

After losing his inspiration, Chef Kurt Hummel is on the verge of losing his restaurant as well. Meanwhile Business mogul Blaine Anderson has something of a jaded view on love. With a little help from a mysterious creature and a sprinkle of magic, can they find what they need in each other?

Somewhere, Ohio

What do you do when all of your dreams come true? You look for a new one, and sometimes you find them in the most unexpected places. When Kurt Hummel left Lima, Ohio fifteen years ago, he never thought he'd ever move back. But when he gets some news from his dad, he realizes There's no place like home. My First Future Fiction!

Spell Check

Kurt doesn’t believe in magic. Rachel proves him wrong.

Take it Back

Kurt Hummel is Fed Up, and he is Not going to take it anymore!

Their Love is Out of This World

Kurt Hummel always knew he was different. He just doesn’t learn how different until his sixteenth birthday. How will his world be turned upside down when he learns the truth?

Trick or Treat

Kurt Hummel HATES Halloween, for good reason. So why does he let Brittany talk him into going to a Halloween Party with New Directions and the Cheerios? After the jocks play a cruel trick, he drives off in tears, and nearly runs over a mysterious boy in the middle of the road.

Yee-Haw

After finding certain articles of clothing in his best friend’s closet, Blaine realizes that that day on the stairs was Not the first time he had seen Kurt Hummel.

Twas The Night Before Christmas

NOT MY STORIES! Check out this collaboration of my favorite authors on FF!

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disappearingground · 5 years

Text

The Jenny Lewis Experience

The New York Times July 24, 2014

A version of this article appears in print on July 27, 2014, Page 18 of the Sunday Magazine with the headline: The Jenny Lewis Experience.

By Jeff Himmelman

“They’d put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on,” Jenny Lewis said. We were sitting in a restaurant in Laurel Canyon, not far from her home, and she was describing her early childhood with parents who made their living performing as an itinerant Sonny-and-Cher-style lounge act called Love’s Way. “We lived in hotels,” she said. “My sister and I, they would just keep us in the hotel room, and they’d go down and play.” When Lewis was born in 1976, her parents were doing a stand at the Sands. They split up when she was 3, and her mother — herself the daughter of a dancer and a vaudeville performer — took Jenny and her sister to Van Nuys, in the San Fernando Valley, where she worked as a waitress and struggled to keep her family afloat. “We were on welfare,” Lewis said, before describing the day their fortunes changed, when an agent picked young Jenny out of a crowd at her preschool. “I think mostly because I was a redhead,” she said. “And I was a weird little kid, a weird little tomboy.”

She soon landed her first commercial, for Jell-O, and came under the wing of Iris Burton, an eminent children’s agent who represented River and Joaquin Phoenix and Fred Savage. Lewis started working steadily in commercials, television (“The Golden Girls,” “Growing Pains,” “Mr. Belvedere”) and film (“The Wizard,” “Troop Beverly Hills,” “Pleasantville”), living the surreal and somewhat communal life of a child star in the ‘80s. She spent her days being tutored on set and her evenings at places like Alphy’s Soda Pop Club in Hollywood, which catered exclusively to kids in the industry. At a party there when Lewis was 10, the actor Corey Haim handed her a cassette tape with Run-D.M.C. on one side and the Beastie Boys on the other. “There have been a couple of cassette tapes that have changed my life,” she said, “and that was the first one” — the tape that got her hooked on hip-hop, which eventually led her to songwriting.

I asked Lewis when she first fully realized the role she played in her family, the depth of their dependence on her. “Eight years old,” she said. “I remember the moment. That’s a pretty big thing for a kid to realize. And I remember the power in that.” By the time she was 14 or 15, with nobody to answer to, she could be as wild as she liked as long as she showed up to work and hit her marks. “I was up for it, honestly,” she said. “I loved the work and I loved the people, and it kind of prepped me for what I do now.”

What Lewis does now, the music she makes, is hard to characterize. She is often compared with Joni Mitchell and Emmylou Harris, and there is a kind of timelessness to the way she writes and sings. But the throwback stuff doesn’t quite capture her. Among some music fans — including many other well-known musicians — Lewis is considered a kind of indie goddess, a stylish performer who defies genre and salts her songs with a sly and off-kilter intelligence. Her first band, Rilo Kiley, signed a major-label deal with Warner Bros. Records in 2005; her first side project, the Postal Service, led by Ben Gibbard of Death Cab for Cutie, sold more than a million copies of its debut; and she has released two well-received solo records since then. Next week, she will release a third, “The Voyager,” her first solo effort in six years. It has been a battle to get it out. Among other things, she has dealt with the death of her father, writer’s block and bouts of insomnia so severe and debilitating that she said they left her almost unable to function for nearly two years.

You’d never guess that from meeting her, though. She talks like a true child of L.A. — the “bro"s and “dude"s flow freely, without affectation — and her go-to traveling costume is a vintage Adidas track suit, Adidas shell-top sneakers and, on the day I first met her, hot-pink lipstick and oversize sunglasses. She lives with her longtime boyfriend and collaborator, the musician Johnathan Rice, up a long canyon road in the hills that separate the San Fernando Valley from downtown Los Angeles. Her house (called “Mint Chip” for its brown-and-light-green exterior) is set into the hillside, looking out over a ravine. There is a rehearsal space with a drum kit, a P.A. and some vintage gear, an old piano in the living room and a vinyl edition of James Taylor’s “Sweet Baby James” propped up beside the fireplace. Beyond the small pool in the back yard there’s a windowed gazebo that Rice uses as his songwriting space. Whatever you are imagining of the California light and the laid-back lifestyle: yes.

Historically, nearby Laurel Canyon has been synonymous with a certain kind of lush ‘60s acoustic-and-multipart-harmony sound, but Lewis’s musical roots spring from the ‘90s and the smart indie rock of Elliott Smith and Pavement. When she was 20 or so, her acting career wasn’t where she wanted it to be, and she saw that she needed to make a change. “I was the best friend,” she said. “I was the friend, forever. I wanted the big, juicy roles, and they didn’t come to me.” (She read for the part of Bunny in the Coen brothers’ film “The Big Lebowski,” for one, but didn’t get it.) She had known Blake Sennett, another former child actor, since she was 17, and they began writing together and eventually formed Rilo Kiley.

She and Sennett dated and broke up and kept playing together. The relationship was always fraught (Gibbard remembers Lewis screaming at Sennett over the phone during the first Postal Service tour), but Lewis said it gave her the confidence she needed to become a real songwriter. “Through my partnership with Blake, I found a voice within myself that I didn’t know I had,” she said. “It sounds kind of cheesy, but I figured out who I was.” From the first lines of the first song on Rilo Kiley’s debut record, a track called “Go Ahead,” you can hear the DNA of the musician Lewis has become nearly 15 years later — a floating, distinct voice, an unpredictable melody, a wryly subverted rhyme.

The link between songwriting and autobiography is a tantalizing but tenuous one, and Lewis prefers to preserve as much mystery as she can. But she affirms that she has never written anything more personal than “Better Son/Daughter,” one of the strongest tracks off Rilo Kiley’s second record, “The Execution of All Things.” The song is about waking up in the morning and being unable to open your eyes or get out of bed: “And your mother’s still calling you, insane and high/Swearing it’s different this time.” Eventually it opens into an anthem of wounded fortitude, the kind you can imagine cars full of young women screaming along to. The actress Anne Hathaway, one of Lewis’s close friends, told me that she still turns to that song whenever she’s struggling. “It’s become almost like a prayer,” she said.

Outside whatever veiled references she makes in her music, Lewis doesn’t talk much about her mother. She acknowledged that it was a “difficult relationship” and that she didn’t have a “traditional upbringing,” but that was about it. At one point, I referred to a report in The Boston Globe in 1992, when Lewis was 16, noting that she owned a house in Sherman Oaks and a townhouse in North Hollywood. “We lost all of that,” she said, with a blankness I hadn’t seen from her before. I asked her why. “We just lost ‘em,” she said. “I achieved a lot as a child, I supported my family, but in the end we lost it all.”

In 2004, Rilo Kiley toured with Coldplay, but Lewis was still scraping by, living in a small apartment in Silver Lake with an Iranian rockabilly musician she found on Craigslist. In her bedroom, when she wasn’t on tour, she wrote the songs that would become “Rabbit Fur Coat,” her first solo record. The idea for it came from Conor Oberst, the songwriter (also known as the frontman of Bright Eyes) who helped form Saddle Creek Records, which had put out “The Execution of All Things.” “I encouraged her,” Oberst told me. “You know, why don’t you step away from this thing that is obviously causing you a lot of distress and make a record on your own?” Sennett had already made a solo record, which upset Lewis. “I was so jealous if someone else got Blake’s musical attention,” she told me. “I was shattered by it.” She made “Rabbit Fur Coat,” she said, in part to prove that “I can do it too on my own — I don’t need you.”

The songs on “Rabbit Fur Coat” are ethereal and haunted, rooted in deep Southern and gospel-inflected melodic traditions. On the record’s title track, Lewis’s lyrics again invite comparison with her family life:

Let’s move ahead 20 years, shall we? She was waitressing on welfare, we were living in the valley A lady says to my ma, “You treat your girl as your spouse You can live in a mansion house.”

And so we did, and I became a hundred-thousand-dollar kid . . . But I’m not bitter about it I’ve packed up my things and let them have at it And the fortune faded, as fortunes often do And so did that mansion house

Where my ma is now, I don’t know She was living in her car, I was living on the road And I hear she’s putting stuff up her nose . . .

After the record was done, Lewis went on tour with Rilo Kiley. When the band played the Showbox in Seattle in 2005, Gibbard picked her up after sound check. They’d become friends during the Postal Service tour a few years earlier. As they drove around in Gibbard’s car, Lewis played the new songs for him. “I just remember, all hyperbole aside, being completely blown away,” Gibbard said. “It was undoubtedly the best thing that she had done.” The press shared Gibbard’s reaction, and Lewis got more attention on her own than Rilo Kiley had ever gotten as a band. “Everything was so easy for the first time,” she said. “It just unfolded so naturally. And then going out on the road and touring was the most fun I’ve ever had on tour. There was no tension for the first time.” Rilo Kiley would put out one more record, but it soon became clear that it would be their last.

“I want to show you something,” Lewis said. We were talking in her kitchen about her second solo release, “Acid Tongue,” which she recorded over three weeks in 2008 at the legendary Sound City Studios in Van Nuys. The record had a bunch of special guests on it — Elvis Costello, Chris Robinson of the Black Crowes — but the most meaningful one was Lewis’s dad, who died in 2010. In the living room, she pointed out a glass vitrine on top of the piano that held one of her father’s chromatic bass harmonicas. Before the “Acid Tongue” sessions, she hadn’t spoken to her father in years, but she felt comfortable enough with the musical family she had created around her — Rilo Kiley’s drummer, Jason Boesel; Johnathan Rice; some other musicians from the Laurel Canyon set — that she thought she could handle having him around. He played on the track “Jack Killed Mom,” and the reunion helped Lewis forgive him for leaving the family all those years ago. “He was playing lounges in Alaska,” Lewis said of when she tracked him down and asked him to play on the album. “That’s why I never saw him. It was not a malicious thing. My dad was a savant. He never drove a car, he never had a bank account,” she said. “I don’t even know if he realized that he wasn’t around, you know? I think he was just playing his gigs, trying to make a living.”

“Acid Tongue” was also a step toward recording everything all at once, live, to an analog tape machine — instead of in pieces to a computer. It’s a process that Lewis has developed a devotion to, and one that the songwriter and producer Ryan Adams would push to an extreme on “The Voyager.” (After “Acid Tongue,” Lewis and Rice released “I’m Having Fun Now” in 2010, an underrated duo record that failed to get the kind of traction they hoped for.) For the last few years, Lewis had been sitting on many of the songs that would make up “The Voyager,” battling insomnia and struggling to get them down. She ran into Adams in Los Angeles and told him she had some songs she was working on, and he invited her to come by his studio, Pax-Am, on the Sunset Strip. She played a few of the tunes for him on her acoustic guitar.

‘My dad was a savant,’ Lewis said. ‘He never drove a car, he never had a bank account. I don’t even know if he realized that he wasn’t around, you know?’

“My initial impression was there were some really minimal but necessary things that had to happen,” Adams told me. “I could tell that she had sat with them a little too long.” (Lewis agrees: “I was like: ‘Dude, go for it. Help me.’ ”) On the first song that they worked on together, “She’s Not Me,” they changed the key to relax Lewis’s voice, and then Adams and his production partner, Mike Viola, strapped on electric guitars and rolled through the full song, three times, with Lewis playing and singing live with a backing band. Adams pronounced the track finished for the time being and said they would move on, without even listening back to what they’d done. “For Jenny, revisionism wouldn’t have worked,” Adams said. “The version she would play on the couch in the control room, we would just stand there, like, ‘Wow, this is classic songwriting.’ Every time. So that was sort of my mission. How do we get an ‘unmind’ vibe here and then go back later and look at these beautiful raw takes and just splash a little bit of watercolor on them.” Lewis ended up recording the bulk of the record with Adams over 10 days. (She worked on the single, “Just One of the Guys,” separately with Beck before she and Adams went into the studio together.)

“The Voyager” is an older and more direct record than her previous two. Her characters are still drinking and doing blow and cheating on each other, but there is a kind of weariness to it all. One line in particular has caught the early attention of some of her many female fans, during the bridge of “Just One of the Guys”: “There’s only one difference between you and me/When I look at myself all I can see/I’m just another lady without a baby.” She has been hesitant to acknowledge what that line specifically means to her. “I wanted to communicate some very basic things,” she told me, without saying what they were. She was already starting to regret having talked about some of her other struggles while making the record, including open discussion of the insomnia that plagued her. “Now everyone’s asking me about insomnia, which I’m terrified is going to happen to me again,” she said. “You can’t think about it too much, and everyone’s asking me about it, and I’m like, ‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’ But, [expletive], am I not going to get to sleep again?” You could hear the fear in her voice. “It’s my fault for putting it out there,” she said.

The video for “Just One of the Guys,” which got more than a million views in its first 24 hours online, was made with the actresses (and Lewis’s friends) Anne Hathaway, Brie Larson, Kristen Stewart and Tennessee Thomas. It’s an entertaining video, part Robert Palmer, part Beastie Boys, with the women spending half the time playing a sleek female backing band and then switching into male roles, clowning around in Lewis-inspired Adidas track suits and fake mustaches. Lewis, as herself, holds up a positive pregnancy test, to which Lewis-in-drag-and-fake-goatee responds, “It’s not [expletive] mine.” When she gets to the “just another lady without a baby” line, she smiles at the camera and then dances. It’s a house of mirrors, a romp through emotionally treacherous terrain.

When I visited Lewis in June, she and Rice (she calls him “Rico”) showed me an early cut of the video in the bedroom of their house, with Lewis calling out “bra shot” whenever we caught a glimpse of her cleavage. Driving down the hill toward dinner later, we got to talking, if somewhat obliquely, about the expectations of her female fans and the sexuality that is inseparable from who she is and the music she makes. She didn’t like to talk about feminism, she said, and in particular the trend of women criticizing one another for not being feminist enough: “What does it matter what I think of Lana Del Rey?” In the months before the release of “The Voyager,” Lewis has taken to wearing airbrushed suits for her live shows, rather than the sexier get-ups she used to wear onstage; she has said she feels “androgynous” these days and wants her costume to reflect that. But not always. As we made our way down the ravine, she told a story about the day President Obama came to visit a compound not far from Mint Chip. She wanted to go out for a run, but a Secret Service member stopped her and told her she needed an ID if she wanted to get back through the security cordon. “I was like, ‘Dude, I’m wearing short shorts,’ ” Lewis said. " ‘You’ll remember me.’ ”

After recording and touring mostly with men in the early days, Lewis now consistently seeks out women for her band and even tried to put together an all-female crew for the “Just One of the Guys” video, which she also directed. She said her desire to work largely with women was a response to the dissolution of her relationship with her mom. “The more I surround myself with women, the easier it is to reconcile my past in a way.” It seems to be serving a kind of psychic need, to replace the female relationship that once dominated her life with a kind of surrogate family of her choosing, a family that has stood behind her through the struggles of the last few years.

“I’m happy to see her making records,” Beck told me. “I just feel like music needs her. It needs someone doing what she’s doing. She’s got a special voice, as a writer, and then as a musician. She’s this great combination of so many things.” Conor Oberst shares that view, describing Lewis as one of the most important songwriters and performers in contemporary music. “Go see her play,” Oberst said. “Because we should all feel lucky to be around while she’s doing her magic.”

On a night in early June, at a sold-out show at the 9:30 Club in Washington, Lewis had her magic all lined up and ready to go. Backstage, she was relaxed, joking with her band and casually doing her makeup in the mirror on the wall. Just before show time, one band member disappeared, but Lewis was unperturbed. “It’s O.K.,” she said with a smile when he showed up, apologizing, just as they were about to go on. “You made it!” She took a sip of red wine out of a plastic cup and then walked up the steps to the stage.

‘I just feel like music needs her,’ Beck said. ‘It needs someone doing what she’s doing. She’s got a special voice, as a writer, and then as a musician.’

To watch Lewis perform live is to understand what Beck and Oberst and other musicians admire in her. “She turns into this other person on stage,” Gibbard said, “this unbelievably powerful performer” — and it’s true. Lewis is both a natural and a pro. Throughout the night, she had big middle-aged guys and teenage girls — “teeny little chickens,” as she called them later — singing along to every word. During the encore, Lewis sang the ballad “Acid Tongue” accompanied only by her acoustic guitar and the rest of her band grouped around a microphone behind her. “To be lonely is a habit,” Lewis sang, her voice ringing out in the near-silent room, “like smoking or taking drugs, and I’ve quit them both. . . . " The audience and her band belted along with her as she finished the line: “But man was it rough.”

It was one of those lovely moments you hope for in live music, when everything in the room connects. But it was also a kind of emblem of where Lewis has been and of where she is now. She has overcome all kinds of obstacles to get here, often with great style, but it hasn’t always been pretty. Whatever demons stole her sleep for these last few years, they’ve surely been with her forever, in one form or another. But they are also what gives such depth and soul to what she does. “I’m not looking for a cure,” Lewis sang, and as she stood in the spotlight at the 9:30 Club, nobody there would have thought she needed one.

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thekillerssluts · 5 years

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Arcade Fire | Win Butler’s Guide to New Orleans

Before Arcade Fire’s Win Butler and Régine Chassagne moved to New Orleans in 2014, the Canadian band were in the city during a tour, and the frontman found himself walking on Magazine Street. On his way to a pickup basketball game, Butler heard a brass band and discovered a group of kids no older than ten or 12 years old, practicing their instruments on a school’s front steps. He was amazed to see them rehearsing without any teacher supervision, and then rounded a corner to find a man in a onsie trick dribbling a basketball, before two people stopped the singer and offered him a ride to his destination.

“I was like ‘Shit this town is so fucking different than anywhere I’ve been in America,’” recalls Butler. “The only other place I’ve been on planet earth that shares that mystical energy is Haiti so I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

Wanting to go beyond the “Wikipedia entry version of the story” about New Orleans’ historical connections to the country where Chassagne’s parents grew up, they started Krewe Du Kanaval last year with Preservation Jazz Hall Band multi-instrumentalist Ben Jaffe. Kanaval is the Haitian Creole word for Carnival, and celebrations take place in the weeks leading up to Mardi Gras with masquerade balls and parades that take over the city streets. “It was the result of an ongoing conversation, what are the things in New Orleans that we are all moved by, these expressions of creativity, of music, art, dance,” says Jaffe, who is also the director of iconic music venue Preservation Hall. “There’s all these things even people who live in New Orleans don’t understand or are aware of.”

All proceeds from Krewe benefit the Preservation Hall Foundation for music education in New Orleans and Chassagne’s non-profit organization KANPE, which provides humanitarian aid in Haiti. Ahead of this year’s event, we spoke to Butler and Jaffe about the roots of Kanape and their favourite places to go in the city.

Catch a show at the legendary Preservation Hall

“The French Quarter is sort of this weird tourist invention that’s people stumbling out of these horrible bars, but Preservation Hall is pretty magical,” says Butler. “They haven’t painted anything or touched anything since the 40s. It’s this living museum of music.” The building was opened as a venue in 1961 by Jaffe’s parents, Allan and Sandra, who moved from Philadelphia and fell in love with the city and its jazz scene. “I don’t remember ever a day of my life when there wasn’t live music, and that wasn’t like extraordinary to me, that was just normal,” says the director of his upbringing. “It only became extraordinary when I started realizing that wasn’t the case for most people.” Despite a temporary closure following 2005’s devastating Hurricane Katrina, the Hall is going strong today, and celebrated their 50th anniversary in 2012 with a PHJB Carnegie Hall concert and expansive compilation.

Around the corner from the Preservation Hall is One Eyed Jacks, a former theatre and speakeasy where you can catch local and touring rock acts. “I still go down to Frenchman Street because that’s my neighborhood, within this five-block span there’s probably twenty-plus bands playing on any given night,” says Jaffe. Finally, no jazz afficionado’s trip to New Orleans is complete without a visit to Celebration Hall in the 7th Ward on a Wednesday night to see the TBC Brass Band play. “People just dance their asses off and the gig goes to like two in the morning,” says Butler.

Check out a second line parade on a Sunday

For a more authentic New Orleans experience, skip the bead-throwing Bourbon Street Mardi Gras parades and instead find a second line, which typically involves African-American brass bands leading dancers in coordinated attire through the streets. “There’s a tradition of funeral parades, which is part of the history of jazz music, but also Haitian music,” says Butler, who also organized a parade with the PHJB celebrating David Bowie after the musician died in 2016. This year’s Krewe Du Kanaval procession began at Congo Square, which is where slaves and free Blacks gathered throughout the 19th century for meetings, open markets, and African dance and drumming celebrations. “Saying it’s sacred ground probably doesn’t do it justice,” adds Jaffe. “It’s a place where many of the rhythmic and cultural traditions that became jazz were maintained and kept alive through these hundreds of years of servitude.”

There’s more to New Orleans cuisine than po-boys and gumbo...

“People don’t realize how international the food is in New Orleans,” says Jaffe. “Vietnamese food is one of our go-to staples when we’re touring. No diss to any other Vietnamese restaurant in the country, but we’ve yet to find anything close to the quality of Vietnamese food that you get in New Orleans.” He recommends Phò Tâù Bay, which was founded by an American GI named Karl Takacs, who stayed in Saigon afterwards and married into a family that owned a chain of restaurants. Due to political upheaval, they moved back to the United States and eventually settled in Louisiana, where they opened their first location in 1982.

... But if you’re looking for Louisiana classics, you’ve come to the right place

After a hometown show, the PHJB frequently find themselves back at their studio, where Jaffe will cook up a hearty pot of red beans and rice or other dishes. “I don’t eat heavy but I like the social aspect of eating,” he says. “You can go to Galatoire's with friends for lunch, have a three-hour meal, and feel like you were at the best party.” From Cajun and Creole cooking pioneers Paul Prudhomme’s K-Paul’s (where Emeril Laggase began his career as a chef) and Leah Chase’s Dooky Chase’s, to newer restaurants including Brigtsen’s, Paladar 511, and Pêcheoffering up contemporary takes on classics, there’s no shortage of options. “There’s a lot of restaurants that have been here over a hundred years, to me it’s really a thing of beauty,” adds Butler. “There’s an old-school place uptown called Clancy’sand they do a soft-shell crab, they smoke it and then they deep-fry it, and it’s mind-blowing.”

Dig for secondhand records at Peaches Records

When he’s not playing in Arcade Fire, Butler occasionally DJs under the alias DJ Windows 98, and one of his favourite places to go crate-digging is the family-run Peaches Records. Opened in 1975, founder and owner Shirani Rea is heavily involved in the city’s hip-hop scene, including being an early champion of Cash Money Records. “They always find these crazy attics full of hoarders’ records and have like ten copies of every Japanese Beatles pressing,” says Butler. On a rare day off, you might even find him playing a pickup basketball game on the court across the street from the store.

Take a walk through Audubon Park

If you want to get away from the crowds or simply stretch your legs, take a streetcar uptown to Audubon Park, which is named after artist and naturalist John James Audubon. There you’ll find ancient southern live oaks, a stone labrinyth laid to symbolize healing post-Katrina, and one of Louisiana’s largest rookeries. “Even though we’re on the Mississippi River, the river’s not readily accessible to people, it’s lined with commercial warehouses that you can’t get through,” explains Jaffer. “There’s only three points of access in the city where you can get to the river and Audobon Park is one of those places.”

Listen to WWOZ to find about concerts and cultural events

“I generally tell people to listen to WWOZ [90.7 FM], it’s one of our local public radio stations,” says Jaffe. “You can listen to it for a week and not hear the same song twice, and it’s all great music.” For more music and arts listings, there’s New Orleans alt-weekly Gambit and OffBeat Magazine, which you can pick up a copy of to find out what’s happening around the city.

#Arcade Fire #Win Butler

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crazylivingx · 5 years

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me expressing my love for love yourself: answer

it’s only been 3 days into 2019 and i’ve been emo about love yourself: answer because i recently bought the album in korea and their lyricism makes me want to cry pls ignore this if you don’t wanna read about my feelings towards the solo songs released throughout the love yourself era because the pure genius and passion put into this project is truly astounding yalls pls love yourselves this is also really personal you’ve been warned (also apologies if i’ve made any grammatical errors lmao)

*i’m going by the ly: answer sequence

(as im writing this in my language and literature class my lecturer goes “my daughter loves bts” and cue my friend and i shouting the member’s names to guess his daughter’s bias and its jhope like wow we stan a jhope stan he said she thinks he “has such a blinding smile’ and thats honestly the biggest mood)

euphoria

this song is innocent af when i first heard it i knew it was a bopping bop the synths in the chorus can kick me to switzerland i barely even remember what the video was about all i remember is jungkook and that yellow jacket lmao his vocal runs when he sings “won’t you please stay in dreams” is just heavenly it honestly feels like i’m floating through the clouds with this song this song can convert people who don’t like good songs with synths bet i can’t imagine anyone other than jungkook singing this song tbh if you get an s.o. i hope you experience this song

favourite line (i know it’s not a singular line pls bear with me):

You’re the sun that rose again in my life

A reincarnation of my childhood dreams

I don’t know what these emotions are

Am I still dreaming?

This dream is a blue mirage in the desert

A priori deep inside of me

I’m so happy, I can’t breathe

My surroundings are getting more and more transparent

I hear the far-away ocean

Across the dream, over the horizon

I’m going to the place that’s getting clearer

Take my hands now

You are the cause of my euphoria

trivia 起 just dance

this whole song shows how much jhope loves dancing and it’s so sweet??? wanting to dance with your partner under the moonlight and slowly falling in love???? the song just screams jhope especially with the chorus you can just imAGiNe him dancing like he has no bones because he DoeSn’T,,,, it has a synthetic feel but it also feels really passionate and human like jhope can #getit we stan a multitalented man the lyrics in this song is probably the lightest but it’s still fun and easy to understand and listen to

favourite line (yea i know it’s like an entire verse but i love their lyrics okay):

In my muddy life

You were like a single stem flower

Even this suffocating studio

If we’re together, turns into paradise

My dreams that once had no answer

Now becomes something we can relate to

Because our rhythm is matching

Because we have our dance, it’s a fate-like beat

serendipity

i remember covering my screams when the mv for this song came out before dna was released and my mom instantly knew what was up lmao this song was kind of my style of music with the #chillvibes it gave out but the chill-ness of the song didn’t make forgettable i’ve played this song in the car before and now my dad can recognize it lol even khalid liked it you go you funky little chimchim,,, i never really paid attention to the lyrics in this song but it sounds really innocent and possessive at the same time lmao i’ll give bts the benefit of the doubt (i also prefer the short version over the full length version don’t kill me)

favourite line (at least these are lines. i know i said line not lines let me live):

As much as my heart flutters, I’m worried

Destiny is jealous of us

Since the creation of the universe

Everything was destined

Just let me love you

trivia 承 love

this song man. namjoon. the piano chords in the beginning is what gives me life. the moment i heard them i instantly knew this was going to be a fave. i love the slight discordance no matter what i will instantly start bopping to it because it’s such a bop that you HAVE to bop along with it. rm loves wordplay in his lyrics, and when it crosses with his intellect something beautiful emerges. this song feels like a flower i love the melody of chords like the chords sold me immediately. and then after i was sold the lyrics stabbed me. there is no escape.

favourite line (god where do i begin):

I live so I love

I'm just a human, human, human (the ㅁ in 사람 saram which means human)

You erode all my corners

And make me into love, love, love (becomes ㅇin 사랑 sarang which means love)

We're humans, humans, humans

In that myriad of straight lines

My love, love, love

When you sit on top of it and you become my heart (if the ㅇ the word 사랑 is squished, it’ll look like a heart ♡)

You make I to an O

I to an O

Because of you

I know why human (saram) and love (sarang) sound similar

You make live to a love

Live to a love

Because of you

I know why a person should live by love

It's a long way from I to U

Fuck, JKLMNOPQRST

I crossed all the letters and I reached you

(i really suggest going to genius’s website to fully understand the song if you want to)

singularity

kim taehyung better square up because i would buy burger king and fight him in the parking lot because he stole my toenail,,,, bighit released this song while i was in hell aka university and bOY was i hshshshhshdhdh <— thats the best way i can describe my feelings,,, like he made my tears flow upwards or something the music video was aMAZING and i was shooketh ihatehimsmjkidontbutyouknowwhatimean back to the song - serendipity was also pretty chill but in a darker way and i love it as well. to me the lyrics mirror fake love because it portrays how walking on thin ice feels and how you’ll lose your own voice just to suffer to make sure the person you love will continue loving you (the lyrics are also really slow so it made it easy for me to read the lyrics in karaoke lmao) singularity was a goddamn package for me the mv, the performance and v himself just hshshshshs when i listen to this song i feel like i’m lying down on a giant leaf floating on a clear pond watching a dim but twinkling meteor shower with giant water flowers surrounding me and fireflies are swaying along with wisps of smoke and this is getting too long winded i’ll stop here as i’m writing this i just remembered namjoon wrote this song in one shot after having surgery what a mans

favourite line (its long but it doesn’t feel complete if i break it up):

A thick ice has formed

In the dream I shortly went into

My agonizing phantom pain is still the same

Have I lost myself

Or have I gained you

I suddenly run to the lake

There’s my face in it

Please don’t say anything

Reach my hand out to cover the mouth

But in the end, spring will come someday

The ice will melt and flow away

Tell me if my voice isn’t real

trivia 轉 seesaw

oh boy. suga. min yoongi. this has been said before but the use of seesaw as a metaphor for a dying/toxic relationship is truly artistic and clever. the way he describes it in his lyrics creates a really clear picture of what’s happening. how if one person gets off a seesaw the other will get hurt as they’ll start to fall to the ground, how neither wants to get off because they know they’ll hurt whoever’s on the other side, and how staying or leaving this “repeated seesaw game” will hurt the both of them no matter what choice they choose. i’ll let the lyrics speak for themselves. (suga singing and dancing was also a pleasant surprise i fell on the floor)

favourite line (get ready i’m about to put like 80% of the song in here the lyrics is a masterpiece):

Repeated seesaw game

I'm tired of this

Repeated seesaw game

We're getting tired of each other

Were the petty arguments the start?

The moment I became heavier than you

Because there's never been parallels in the first place

Maybe I became more greedy and tried to fit in with you

Is there really a need to keep repeating ourselves

Saying this was love and this is love?

They're tired of each other, they seem to hold the same hand

People can be so crafty

They know they’ll get hurt if one person is missing

Because we don't want to be the villains

In the midst of a series of vague responsibilities

And we get so tired or if that we finally became parallel

But we didn’t want this kind of parallel

At first, we showed off who was heavier

We'd brag and smile

Now we're trying to beat each other

We're in a competition

The fire of a quarrel

It’ll only end if someone gets off right here

We’re acting like we’re comforting each other

But it’s mixed with thorns

Can’t keep doing this, we need to make a decision

(Hol' up Hol' up) I walk on this seesaw without you

(Hol' up Hol' up) Just like the beginning when you weren't here

(Hol' up Hol' up) I walk on this seesaw without you

(Hol' up Hol' up) I'm getting off this seesaw without you

(like trivia 承 love, you can read more about the song on genius’s website)

epiphany

stream epiphany. our boy kim seokjin’s vocals have truly improved huh. this to me felt like a response to awake (you can fLY JIN) and i applaud bighit for giving him this song. he finally gets the recognition and lines he deserves smh. you really feel like a proud parent when you watch the fancams throughout the love yourself tour and hear how his voice improves after each performance. the song is also kind of the ‘final act’ to all the solos in ly: answer and they finally get to spread their message of “its hard to love yourself, but that’s why you should so you can love others as well”. after becoming the shell of what you once were, the only way you can fill it up again is to love yourself, and that’s my pov of the whole point of the song. i’m gonna be honest i wasn’t really into this song in the beginning but i started to fall in love with it after a few listens (i listened to it sm that when i was downloading the ly: answer album i forgot to add epiphany cause i was streaming it LMAO)

favourite line (i know they’re verses as well hshdhds):

I’m the one I should love in this world

Shining me, precious soul of mine

I finally realized so I love me

Not so perfect but so beautiful

I'm the one I should love

I may be a bit blunt, I may lack some things

I may not have that shy glow around me

But this is me

My arms, my legs, my heart, my soul

bonus song - answer: love myself

doing a pewdiepie and adding a bonus song lmao my first listen of this song was in my friend’s house and we had the lyrics on and let me tell you the moment we read the lyrics we wanted to hug bts because it was so soft and it was so uwu we were so ready to love ourselves lol yes it sounds like a church song but like epiphany i learned to love it too this was also my first song of 2019 so if you decide to, please listen to it with an open heart

favourite line (hey look actual lines this time yes lines not line):

Maybe I fell in order to take the place of those countless stars

The target of thousands of bright arrows is me alone

Why do you keep trying to hide under your mask?

Even all the scars from your mistakes make up your constellation

that’s all from me bye sorry for the long post

bighit pls hire me as an album promoter

#bts #love yourself answer #ly answer #love yourself #bangtan #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #beyond the scenes #as im typing the tags my lecturer is saying stop looking down on yourself its a sign guys #i feel really preachy rn but whatever #i should probably be listening to my lecture #but i kinda had fun writing this

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stevenuniversallyreviews · 6 years

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Episode 81: Same Old World

”I’ve got nowhere to go.”

It’s impossible to overstate how important Mirror Gem was in redirecting the entire series from the daily adventures of a magical kid to a long-term story about (among many other things) how sins of the past loom over the present. But I’ve certainly tried! I’ve gone on about the episode’s impact at length in multiple reviews, but it bears repeating again here, because Same Old World is where Lapis Lazuli finally starts to shift from Important Character to regular fixture.

For someone that leaves such a lasting impression, we don’t see much of Lapis until Season 3. After she flies away healed in Ocean Gem, we catch a glimpse of her in The Message, where she once again has a huge impact for her small amount of time on screen. This frantic, confused version of Lapis is what we’ll get in The Return and Jailbreak and Chille Tid, but we see her get angrier with each appearance as she’s forced to face trial after trial. Her suffering was supposed to be over, but it keeps happening, and by the time she’s finally free again it makes sense that her first instinct is to get the hell off this planet.

But the saddest thing about Lapis isn’t her horrible luck, even if her ordeals are arguably more intense than any other character’s. It’s that she’s had to face these ordeals alone. The Crystal Gems and the Off-Colors are ragtag teams of outcasts, but they still have each other. Homeworlders like the Diamonds and their underlings, even the wandering Jasper, fit in just fine with an established society. Peridot makes a relatively smooth transition from the latter to the former. But Lapis’s comfort zone only exists in a past that will never come back. Steven may be the only Gem with parents, but the tragedy of Lapis Lazuli is that she’s an orphan. Only in Spinel do we meet another Gem cursed with such abandonment.

Why does Lapis attach herself so strongly to Steven, to the point where she’s willing to risk everything to protect him from Homeworld? For the same reason she eventually latches onto Jasper despite knowing that it’s toxic: because she has nobody else. And that isolation, rather than the specific injustices she has faced, is the trauma she’s actually forced to overcome starting in Season 3, beginning with Peridot in our next episode. But for now, Same Old World does a brilliant job establishing who this character is (a lost, lonely soul) and what she needs (a home and a family) so that she can make a change. And it does this not by showing her wallowing, but rather, for the first time since Ocean Gem, by showing her happy.

It says everything about Lapis that she sincerely enjoys hanging out with Steven. Despite her antisocial tendencies, she doesn’t hate people, she just doesn’t trust them (and for good reason). By freeing her in Mirror Gem and healing her in Ocean Gem, and by bonding with her in both episodes through open-hearted conversation, Steven earned her friendship. And an arc where Lapis finds the strength to open up to others benefits from our knowledge that she’s already capable of doing so, so that’s what Same Old World does. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, and knowing this makes it even harder to watch when she stumbles, but all the more rewarding when she starts to come out of her shell around more people.

Lapis’s newfound exuberance is best conveyed by Aivi and Surasshu, who modify her theme (still my favorite) from its typically haunting or mystical tone to a breezy, adventurous anthem. Lapis began as a source of wonder for the audience, so it’s great to see her actually feel that wonder herself as she learns more about the planet that held her prisoner for so long.

Steven’s narration gets funnier and funnier as they travel from the woods to Empire City to Jersey; even a show this sweet can’t help but make fun of New Jersey. While Empire City is a clear blend of New York and Paris, with a little Vegas thrown in judging by the town motto, and this universe has locations like Delmarva and Keystone and Aqua Mexico, I love that Jersey is just...Jersey.

Further signs that this is a setup episode are found in the Empire City segment, and not just because we go back there in Mr. Greg. We’ve already seen Peridot living it up in the barn, and soon enough she and Lapis will be roommates in the way Steven foreshadows here. But more importantly, he’s using the language of television, which Lapis might not understand now, but very soon will.

Of course, an episode where Lapis is chipper throughout would be disingenuous, and boy does Same Old World deliver on the inevitable gut punch. We get one last moment of whimsy as the two head over the ocean, but the gleeful variant of her theme fades away as they encounter the Galaxy Warp.

Considering the way Pearl left Steven hanging in Rose’s Scabbard, there was a very real chance Lapis would drop him here as she has a minor panic attack, and the suspense allows us to feel all the weight of Lapis’s problems rushing back after a day of fun. It might not sound like a big deal, but this episode needs us to switch from happy and peaceful to antsy and pensive within seconds to keep the pacing solid, and it’s amazing that it does so without giving us even a hint of whiplash.

The return of Lapis’s hollow eyes is a nice touch, and leads us into a flashback that efficiently and stylishly shows us the depths of our hero’s misfortune. She wasn’t a Homeworld zealot but a noncombatant, and her cracking was a complete accident caused by a nameless, unidentifiable Gem. There’s no twist or big moment, simply a series of events outside of her control that built upon each other to ruin her life. This isn’t to say we don’t get lore—the Gem who poofed Lapis is our first glimpse at a bismuth, perhaps the Bismuth, and we see the Diamonds’ corruption attack with a quick taste of their theme—but the message here is that Lapis’s fate served no great purpose, and wasn’t even an intentional punishment. Sometimes life just kicks the shit out of you for no reason.

Lapis is clearly used to it at this point, shrugging off how horrible her life has been before she tries to leave at the beginning of the episode and rejecting Steven’s sweet offer to take a minute at the end of it. This isn’t to say she isn’t upset, but there’s a sense of acceptance that her life will continue to be miserable no matter what, which is why it’s so important that Steven doesn’t just tell her that she’s welcome on Earth, but that Earth is a place that allows change. He tells somebody who had no control for ages, then went on a power trip as soon as she had the opportunity to dominate somebody else, that she finally has the opportunity to make a healthy choice. And she takes it.

Peridot obviously becomes a bigger factor in our next episode, but she’s established quite well in the first act so that her “surprise” appearance at the end feels earned; why would she have gone away in the day or so that Steven and Lapis went exploring? Lapis’s petulant reaction to sharing her new home with Peridot gives us one last bit of foreshadowing for her arc: her adjustment to Earth transforms her into an angsty teen.

I can imagine this characterization disappointed some people; certain fans are bound to insert their own concepts into a character as mysterious as Lapis, which of course makes any divergence from this headcanon a disappointment. But the idea that Lapis’s Daria Phase comes out of nowhere is baffling to me. Really, what better way to portray someone whose life feels like one crisis after another inflicted by forces beyond their control than as a teenager?

Lapis Lazuli rarely displays overt happiness after Same Old World, and will quickly develop a sardonic sense of humor that genuine playfulness occasionally escapes from. But it nonetheless sets the stage for her potential before Barn Mates wisely reminds us that her journey towards trusting others won’t be a walk in the park.

(And then we get a walk in the ballpark. Season 3 picks up quick once it gets rolling.)

Future Vision!

I already mentioned Empire City, Bismuth, and the Diamond Corruption, but it’s also quietly sweet to rewatch this episode after we learn Lapis actually held onto Steven’s leaf in Beta.

I hinted at it a little, but there are definitely echoes of Lapis’s story in Spinel’s, with the major difference being Lapis’s series of misfortunes versus Spinel’s single act of betrayal. Both endured thousands of years of solitude, both attack others on instinct as a result, and both are moved by Steven preaching the power of change.

If every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have inconsistencies…

It’s weird that there’s never any follow-up on Lapis’s poofing, considering she starts hanging out with Bismuth after Change Your Mind. Even if it was a different bismuth, that’s still worth a joke or something.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

Such a great Lapis episode. If it had a song it might be even higher up, but it still holds its own through great characterization, great music, and awesome setup for her new arc.

Top Fifteen

Steven and the Stevens

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Winter Forecast

When It Rains

Catch and Release

Chille Tid

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

No Thanks!

5. Horror Club 4. Fusion Cuisine 3. House Guest 2. Sadie’s Song 1. Island Adventure

#same old world #steven universe #su #steven universally #review

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