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wolven91 · 13 days

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Unafraid

The belligerent ursidain growled at the vulptanis behind the suddenly thin feeling screen.

The smaller administrator was merely doing their job correctly, asking for ID, confirming there were no outstanding warrants, all standard procedure. Yet there were those that no matter how many times they had to do this when changing station, they hated the process and wished to take their anger out on someone. The ursidain was one of those.

"I've done what you want! Stop wasting my time!" Bellowed the giant, spittle running down the transparent screen, the only thing separating the giant from the nervous agent. It suddenly felt as if the illusion of protection had been shattered. Good. The more the ursidain made the agent feel uncomfortable, the more likely he'd get through quicker.

"Sir, I-I..."

"Oi!" Barked a sharp voice from the side. "Step away from the screen and manage yourself." Ordered the canid in the resplendent attire of station security. The ursidain's giant head swung around to lock on to the speaker, and the new target of their aggression. It was important to keep the outrage going, to not be distracted, otherwise they'd force him through the whole slow process. The ursidain turned their body with plodding steps before swinging their arms out wide.

"I ain't done anything! And this one is wasting my time!" The ursidain gestured at the visibly relieved vulptanis behind the screen with a jerk of his head.

"Processing takes time. Step away from the screen and manage yourself. Lower your voice, now." The canid ordered, arms hung low, no weapon in sight.

"Or what? I aint afraid of you." Growled the giant.

"Or we'll interpret your actions as 'hostile' and defend the station." Replied the canid without a hint of emotion colouring his words. A bluff. Had to be.

The ursidain glanced around and saw the rest of the pack already appearing from different directions. The ursidain had dealt with canids before, they were all bluster. He was an ursidain! Largest of the bipeds! He could take anything they dished out, but that wasn't even a worry. He couldn't be intimidated. He'd done this dance countless times before. The GC was the same everywhere, they wouldn't harm a single strand of fur on his body.

"Step away from the screen and manage yourself or you will be managed. Last warning."

Unbeknownst to the ursidain, the crowd waiting for processing had already taken several steps away, but decided to take a few more, just to be safe. The ursidain was confident, no one liked having bad press and usually making a scene was enough to get ushered through, just to get the one causing an issue out of the way. This was unusual, but despite all the fearmongering of canids being the big bad of the GC, the ursidain had yet to actually see a canid in action. They wouldn't do anything to him, he was a citizen, this was just an attempt at intimidation.

"I want through! Do you know how I am?! I'm-" The ursidain, as he was talking shoved the canid in front of him against the shoulder. The immediate slash across the back of the ursidain's legs sent burning pain through him, but it wasn't enough to topple him.

He swung an arm around behind him, turning as he did, but hit nothing but air. The canid that had slashed him was scampering away, his knife-like claws bloodied.

The ursidain screwed up his face in indignant rage! How dare they even touch him! He was bleeding! He'd have their hides!

Having no intention of backing down now, the ursidain breathed in to bellow, only to feel teeth, clamp around his throat, and a weight pulling him forwards and twisting his neck at an odd angle. To the crowd, the canid that had been issuing the warnings had leapt forward the moment the giant had stopped paying attention to him and had used his own teeth to pull the giant to the ground, bracing his legs and body against the creature's wide chest before pulling and twisting. The ursidain had to follow the pull and twist or risk causing more damage to himself. He toppled forwards and was thrown to the ground with an echoing 'thud'.

The jaws that had clamped around his neck released and the ursidain was looking up at the lead canid, glaring down at him. A large paw reached up and touched against his neck and winced. Pulling the paw away, it was splattered with blood, his own.

"You are bound by station law and are to come with us. Will you comply?" Growled the canid, vicious in tone.

"I-" But the guard cut him off.

"Understand, if you are not completely cooperative, I have the authority to remove any and all threats to the station with lethal force." The canid crouched and grinned, his teeth pink with the mixture of his own saliva and the ursidain's blood.

"Please resist, I haven't killed anyone in three days, I need this." The canid bluffed loud enough for everyone to hear.

To the shocked and nervous crowd, the ursidain nodded his head and was swiftly bound and led away into a side door. A door that was not used by anyone but the security team. There was a quiet, nervous energy as the lead canid glanced back at the crowd, looking for anything or rather anyone who might also cause an issue.

It didn't matter who had an ego in that crowd, the canid would not hesitate to force them into compliance.

It was well known that the canids were the weapon held in the Galactic Community's arm. The GC's own personal cudgel. Parents told children horror stories of the canids to get them to behave and the canids did nothing to dismiss or debate these claims. Some of them were true.

It took public moments like this to remind the trillions of citizens around the galaxy that just because the day to day lives of the average citizen was without worry or blood, did not mean that the canids could not step in if they got cocky.

There was good reason the canids were interacted with at arm's length by the average person. Canids were one step away from being outright feral. Knives for fingers and an appetite for violence. The boogiemen of the GC.

== 0 ==

Melrash the canid sighed as he threw the tool belt down on the side as his home's front door slid closed and locked. It was the end of the day and it had been a long one. Three chintian smugglers, two felinoids after a decency complaint, two taurians in a bar fight and an ursidain in processing. That was the final tally of occupants of the station that Melrash had, had to physically detain. Over half had to see their own blood before reality set in.

Oddly, it was the smugglers who were the ones that had come quietly without issue. Melrash growled as he didn't trust that. He'd missed something, they'd got him away from there too quickly, he'd not sniffed around or questioned it. Tomorrow he'd-

"Mel?" Came a voice from within, perking the canid's ears up.

"I'm home." The canid called back, still not used to having someone waiting for him at home. As a canid, he had his pack, and he spent a large chunk of his time with them. Whether at work or blowing off steam. But even the pack needed time away from one another at the end of the day. This 'guest' in his home was still a new feature, but one he'd learnt to enjoy.

The tiny frail furless creature came pottering around the door frame with the gait that looked like it was about to fall over at any time. It had taken effort on Melrash's part to stop following the thing round with his paws out, ready to catch the human.

The fleshy creature wiped his hands of moisture on an oversized, to him at least, towel before putting it over the back of the sofa. The canid said nothing, then the human bee lined for Melrash.

The canid stood there, perfectly still and weathered the 'attack'.

The human looped his arms around the canid's middle and pressed himself into the canid's fur. It was so dense and the human so small that the creature partially disappeared. The canid very carefully draped his own arms and paws over the human's shoulders and gently pressed the human into himself.

He'd barely used any of his strength, but he both felt and heard the human's spine crunch and click before Melrash's eyes shot wide and he crouched down, shocking the human with the speed while he checked the frail creature for harm.

"I'm fine! Honestly, I needed to click my back, I feel looser." The human argued, batting the canid's worried hands away.

Melrash growled and glanced to the scarred flesh on the human's arms. A perfect quartet of lines, that if anyone looked too closely at, would perfectly match to the spacing of Melrash's fingers. Carelessness and hard lessons.

"I still don't understand how you aren't scared of me. Everyone else is..." Grumbled Melrash, not upset that he was feared by the masses, but almost frustrated that he hadn't been able to get the same response from Yanis. Still... as the human looped their arms around the canid's neck and pushed his face into the canid's messy mane, Melrash had to admit he enjoyed this.

"Because I know you're a friend. Always did, as soon as I met you. Maybe more than that now...?" The humans hands came up to the opposite ear and began to scratch the shorter fur there, Melrash 'hunnn'ing in response.

The human breathed the canid's scent in despite the canid knowing that Yanis was scent blind. Melrash smiled and tilted his head, sandwiching the human into his shoulder as the canid used one arm to hold the human in place and stand back up. Yanis squawked in surprise, but the canid ignored him and his wiggling in a vague notion of trying to escape.

The canid carried him without effort back into the kitchen, but not before plucking the wet towel off the back of the sofa.

"You keep telling me off for doing that." The canid growled, his whole body rumbling the human as Yanis merely guiltily laughed. The canid grinned, not the worst defence for someone's actions he'd heard today.

Melrash, along with his pack, secretly liked how the humans didn't fear the canids... it was a pleasant change...

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #werewolf bf

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chanshoesunite · 1 year

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Imagine playing the Pepero game with Chan

“You know what we should definitely play tonight? The Pepero game”, Chan announces to the room, his eyes slyly drifting to YN. Everyone groans good-naturedly.

“Oh, come on, boys, we haven’t played it in forever! Are you scared I will beat you all again with my epic skills?”, Chan boasts, pokes Jisung in the chest and takes Changbin in a headlock. “You tell ‘em, love”, YN encourages her boyfriend indulgently. “You are so transparent, hyung”, Jeongin smirks, “we all know you just want to make out with YN!” ”Whaaaat”, Chan’s voice pitches up with incredulity, draping his arms around YN, “I could just do that whenever I want!”

“Yeah, but you are sadist that wants to make us all suffer through your PDA”, Minho deadpans. YN laughs, and Chan darts his looks from Minho to her: “I resent that accusation. Why are you laughing, baby!” “It’s funny cus it’s true”, she says wisely, stroking down Chan’s arms in a calming gesture.

Chan’s face scrunches up adorably. He taps YN on the nose: “No, it must be because Minho is jealous”, he slowly untangles himself from her and takes an innocent step towards his friend, “if you are jealous, you could just ask for your own kisses – but you barely allow me my hugs!”

That last bit he shouts while chasing Minho around the table. “Just let me love you!”, Chan coos. Minho swears, the others laugh and YN grins at these dorks. After two rounds of running, Minho stops and puts his hands out, bracing against the onslaught of brawn and affection.

“Stop! Fine! We shall play the Pepero game! Just get away from me.” Chan immediately stops making grabby hands at Minho. “I knew you’d come around!” “What’s the prize for the winners?”, interjects Felix. “How about the losers have to buy them dinner?”, says Changbin.

“Great plan, Chan and YN always find the best restaurants anyway”, quips Han. “Hey, hey, what? Why should the losers automatically be me and YN?” “Oh yeah, hyung, sure you will focus on winning, suuuure you will!” “You just watch us!” “I’d really rather stare at my washing machine for an hour than watch you two smooch.”

“Alright, alright, focus”, Seungmin says before Chan can start whining more. YN squeezes him tightly and Chan dutifully snaps his mouth shut. “I’m getting the Pepero and I’ll watch the time. You decide on teams.”

Seungmin leaves the room, and the others start playing gawi-bawi-bo to figure out the pairs. Chan stands aside, his hand on YN’s hip, grinning like the cat who got the cream. He gently strokes her as she leans into him. They watch the boys shouting at each other. Then Seungmin brings back a pack of Pepero. Shaking it, he says: “Teams are decided? Ah”, he looks at the pair of Changbin and Hyunjin, “Well, I know who I am putting my money on. OK, get on with it, sit opposite each other.”

YN is sitting in front of Chan, a Pepero between her teeth. Her eyes glitter with amusement as Chan gets ready, holding her lightly by her shoulders. His warm hands feel good on her. The boys around her are shouting rambunctiously, deciding on strategies, but she concentrates on Chan’s mischievous face.

“OK, ready? 3 – 2 – 1 – start!”

More shouting goes up around them, but YN is entirely focused on the gentle way Chan tilts her head to get the best access to her Pepero. He keeps biting off pieces, far too slow to win, but the excitement she senses is worth it. His eyes are half-closed and his enjoyment is crystal-clear. YN is captivated by the sight, content in the grasp he has on her.

When she can tell his lips are nearly touching hers, she flips the Pepero into her mouth and leans into him. Their lips touch in a sweet kiss and she can feel Chan’s chuckle vibrating through his strong chest. He pulls YN closer, one hand splayed along her neck, his thumb stroking her jaw. With a soft sigh, she opens her lips, allowing their tongues to dance.

“Oh my god, I told you he would do this! Awful!” “Hyung setting a new record in holding his breath.” “Hajimaaa, you guys!”, Jisung has dropped to the floor, dramatically pounding on the ground.

Ignoring the teasing voices of the boys, Chan lifts YN into his lap, giving her one last, delicious kiss. YN’s hands are on his shoulder and neck, enjoying the solidity of his muscles. Chan squeezes her bum tightly, their upper bodies flush against each other. She tilts her head back, her face an invitation for one last caress that he cannot resist. He leans in again, giving her a few pecks down her throat. Finally, he relents to the screaming around him.

“Did we lose?”, he asks innocently. “Duh, obviously, you fools!” “You don’t even have a Pepero to show for all the time you wasted!”

With a cheeky smile, YN says: “I think I can safely say, no matter what happened, we are the real winners here.”

#bang chan x reader #bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff #author tortoise #tortoise here: i just thought this would be a cute story!?! do you like the photoedit? i made it myself too nd i am actually proud of it tb #bangchan pepero #kissing bangchan #bangchan drabble #bang chan drabble

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misfit-mccoward · 3 months

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i am once again offering u minakushi smut

this takes place in a plot-free AU where kushina is some sort of forest goddess/spirit and minato is her human boytoy she sends on murdery quests. this is ONLY the sexy bit; that background is just to explain the language lmao. features ummm infidelity as a kink because i was talking to someone about minato as a ~home wrecker~ and i think kushina would find that funny/hot

Kushina sat on the edge of her bed, beckoning for him to approach her. She wore nothing but a thin nightgown, white and nearly transparent.

“And what of the people you met?” Kushina asked, eyes bright and mischievous and hungry.

“The lord I stayed with had a young new wife,” Minato said, running a hand through Kushina’s hair. “Pretty, though not the prettiest I’ve seen.”

Kushina’s lips parted in a smile, bearing her pointed teeth. Minato’s heart pounded in his chest.

“And did she love her husband?” Kushina asked, her hand covering his.

“I imagine so,” Minato said. “He loved her quite a bit. Doted on her.”

“Oh ho,” Kushina said. “And what did you do?”

Minato’s own lips parted in a toothy grin.

“Nothing at all,” he said, “except smile at her at mealtimes.”

Kushina pulled his hand from her face, guiding it down her chest and over her breast. “And then?” she prompted.

“She came into my chamber one night,” Minato said. Kushina’s eyes were bright with excitement. She guided his hand up down her body and then up her skirt, pulling at the fabric with her other hand, clumsy as she kept her eyes on him.

“And then?”

She was already wet in anticipation. Minato moved even closer to her, running his finger carefully over her.

“She begged me,” he said, sliding a finger into Kushina. She moaned, letting her eyes close. “She wanted me desperately. She told me she needed me.”

Kushina laid back on the bed as he fingered her, making several delicious sounds of pleasure as she went. Her hair sprawled around her, dramatic red swirls on the white sheets.

“It only took her three days of my company to ask,” he told Kushina, two fingers now inside her, sliding in and out, his thumb over her clitoris. He leaned over her, gently brushing aside hair to brace his other hand on the bed. “And then she came to my chambers every. Single. Night.”

“And her husband?” Kushina managed to breathe out.

“She felt guilty,” Minato said. “She cried on the third night, and yet she was back in my bed on the fourth.”

Kushina’s hand balled in the sheets, a long, loud moan escaping her lips. Minato leaned closer to her.

“Would you like me to show you what I did to her?” he teased.

“Always,” Kushina replied.

He withdrew his hand to undress himself, and Kushin rolled onto her side on the bed, pouting at his absence.

“The lord of course noticed his wife’s absence,” Minato said as he shed his clothes. “But he did not dare to say a word while I was there.”

He climbed onto her. Kushina eagerly cupped his face in both hands and pulled him down into a kiss, her tongue pressing at his lips as soon as they met. Her legs wrapped around his hips, rolling against him.

“A-ah,” Minato said when Kushina let go of his face. “She was not quite this forward…”

Kushina giggled and rolled again, making Minato’s breath catch. The skirt of her gown was bunched up around her hips, and several top buttons had come undone. She smirked teasingly up at him as she undid the rest, fully exposing her breasts.

“And what did you do to this poor unforward girl?” Kushina asked. “Or will you have to stop speaking if you demonstrate?”

“No, I looked into her eyes the whole time,” Minato said, “so she would believe I loved her.”

Kushina laughed, her own blue eyes alight with mirth. Minato stared into them, lost in affection for her devious little smile.

“And did you love her?” Kushina asked, despite knowing the answer, laughter on her tongue.

“I only love you,” Minato replied.

Kushina laughed again, and then laughed louder and dug her nails into his back as he entered her.

“So cruel,” Kushina crooned. And then, when he began to thrust against her, “Oh! No wonder she loved you!”

Minato took a while to watch Kushina’s reactions to his touch. He watched the way her head tilted back on her pillow, her perfect pink lips parting as she breathed out his name. He enjoyed the feel of her nails against his ribs, powerful enough to shred him to pieces if she so chose.

He loved being inside her, perfectly warm and slick and tight around him.

“She was a dull lay,” Minato told Kushina eventually, and Kushina rolled her chin forward to meet his eyes again, her own glassy with pleasure and alight with mirth. “But she came quite easily.”

“And will you make me come as easily?” Kushina purred out. A challenge.

“I think I will try,” Minato told her, and then wrapped his calloused hands around her hips. He lifted her slightly, shifted the angle of himself inside her.

“Oh!” Kushina cried, dropping her hands to ball in her sheets again.

“When I returned, months later,” Minato continued, thrusting as hard as he dared now. He had to speak louder to be heard over the sounds Kushin was now making. “The lady was heavy with child, and yet she returned to me at night, begging through her tears.”

“A-ah!” Kushina moaned.

“I expect the child will be blonde, and then everyone will know.”

Kushina let out a wordless cry of pleasure, tensing around him as she came. He could feel it in the way her walls closed around him and the flex of her thighs and hips muscles, a terrifying power which she used only to hold him. Minato did his best to continue to fuck her through it, but he came undone himself seconds later.

Then there was a stillness, both of them panting into the night. He slid out of her, and Kushina hummed in satisfaction.

Kushina curled onto her side, her lips turned up cheekily at him.

“You have ruined an entire home,” she said, teasing. “You are quite a horrible man.”

He laid next to her.

“I am,” he said.

“I think as guardian of this land,” Kushina said, reaching forward to cup his chin in her hand, “that I must punish you, mustn’t I?”

“If that’s what you wish,” Minato replied. His eyelids slipped lazily.

“Lay on your back,” Kushina commanded, and he did so.

Kushina then braced herself against the headboard of the bed. Minato heard the shift and thump of fabric as she discarded her night gown, but his vision was obscured by her hovering over him. He obediently raised his hands to hold her thighs in place. She was still dripping, both with her fluids and his.

“I think you can do this again, can’t you?” Kushina said.

Minato could not speak as his tongue dipped into her. He was sure his actions answered her.

#minakushi

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zot3-flopped · 24 days

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The fascinating emptiness of one Mr. Louis Tomlinson

Simone De Aurevoir

Feb 20, 2024

Four months ago I went to a concert. The exact city, venue and date doesn’t matter, and you will understand why it doesn’t matter in just a moment. The concert in question was given by Louis Tomlinson, a former member of One Direction, and what I experienced that night was so odd, so puzzling, so fascinating, that I couldn’t help but write it down. Allow me to explain.

The concert took place on a Tuesday evening. It is part of his Faith in the Future tour, and I was accompanying a close friend who is a huge “Louie”, as his fans are called. (Despite the difference in spelling, the man’s name and his fandom are actually pronounced the same way.) I joined her mostly out of solidarity and a little bit out of morbid curiosity. She had previously given me only small glimpses into the Louis Tomlinson fandom, and as a pop culture enthusiast, naturally I was intrigued by this window into an obscure cultural bubble. I remember thinking, “It might be interesting to see what she’s so obsessed with”.

Her first act of initiation had been to take me to see All of Those Voices, the documentary movie about Louis Tomlinson‘s life after One Direction, which depicted his chain smoking Northern English charm, his image of the humble underdog, and the unexpected upwards trajectory of his career over the last five years. It had also instilled in me a vague sense of fear of the fandom. Then again, the intensity of the Gospel is always off putting to atheists, so I thought nothing more of it.

Knowing that football/soccer games dictate which colors to wear and which to avoid, I had half-jokingly asked my friend about taboo colors the day before, not really expecting an answer. Immediately, she texts back — “Don’t wear green, and avoid any obvious combinations of blue and green.” If you’re feeling a sense of foreboding right now, that’s the right instinct.

On the night of the concert, we arrive at the 15,000 seat arena in the brisk evening air. To my surprise, the concrete vestibule is almost empty, save for the small crowd clustering around a merch stand. “They’re all already inside”, my friend explains confidently. We enter through the main entrance into the stuffy warmth of the lobby, through security, past another overcrowded merch stand, and through the soundproofed swinging doors into the main concert hall.

I suddenly feel very small as I enter this gigantic darkened arena space, where the air is even warmer, and buzzing with excitement. Indeed, everybody else is already here. The show won’t actually start for an hour, but the arena is already fully packed. We squeeze past a long row of excited faces to get to our seats, where the local chapter of Louis’s fan club has deposited some items for audience interaction: a blank white sheet of paper and a little snippet of red transparent tracing paper, both with instructions for how and when to hold them up.

While we’re settling in, the second of the two opening bands is already playing — a forgettable mess of clichés from Northern England. “As a white indie boy, Louis tours exclusively with other white indie boys”, my friend remarks with cheeky self awareness. While the clichés are playing, we look around the sold out arena. The two of us are only a little bit younger than Louis himself, which makes us some of the oldest people in the venue (not counting the occasional parental custodians who accompany their teen children).

Fans camping out for a spot in the first row for Louis’s show in Glasgow, 2022. Photograph by Steve Welsh

To me, it looks like we’re just two old pieces of driftwood in a sea of teeth in braces, puffy cheeks and pigtail buns, but my friend explains to me what I’m really seeing. “See that guy over there? That shirt is a Doncaster Jersey with Louis’s team number.” Or: “This girl in front of us? That’s a handmade replica of a t-shirt Louis wore on tour in 2016.” Already, I am amazed at the depth of not just her knowledge, but everybody’s knowledge of the history of this Louis Tomlinson. And then, to my delight, we actually see the forbidden combo: a girl wearing two glow-in-the-dark bracelets next to each other; one blue, one green.

It’s at this point that I finally get an explanation of the meaning behind the colors: Back when the band was still active, all five members of One Direction had a color assigned to them, based on their mic colors at live shows. Harry Styles was green, Zayn Malik was yellow, Liam Payne was red, Louis Tomlinson was blue, and Niall Horan was white. Therefore, wearing blue would symbolize fandom of Louis; wearing, say, red would be an indicator of favoring Liam, and green would symbolize fandom of Harry Styles. And wearing blue and green together would… well, we’ll get to that in a moment.

Since this is Louis’s concert, you might think that the audience would be a sea of exclusively blue clothing, but there is actually a notable amount of rainbow accessories — capes, earrings, fans, etc. — that make for an overall colorful impression.

I wonder out loud how it is possible that somebody who was big with teenagers in the early 2010s has so many teenage fans in 2023. After all, when I was a teenager myself in the late 2000s, it would have seemed unspeakably ridiculous if I had stanned, let’s say, the Spice Girls. (I’m not even sure I was aware of the Spice Girls back then.)

My friend, ever helpful, explains to me that most younger fans came across the fandom in 2020, facilitated by YouTube, Twitter, Tumblr, and pandemic-induced boredom.

Tumblr especially is infamous for its ability to grow and nurture expansive fandoms of pop culture items for years on end, even if the source material is long past its relevance peak (see Supernatural), its quality peak (see Doctor Who) or both (see Sherlock).

The momentum of Louis’ fandom on social media even led to the unusual phenomenon of venues getting bigger every time his concerts were rescheduled due to the pandemic. And this is when it starts to dawn on me. I am not attending a concert; I am witnessing a Tumblr dashboard come to life.

I’m just about to share this thought with my friend when the background music cuts off mid-song, the lights drop, and the sudden darkness comes with a piercing collective shriek that makes the earplugs flutter in my ear canal.

The band comes in first, taking their places. After barely a beat of pause, Louis walks onstage, with messy hair, wearing a tank top and designer sweatpants, walking at a matter-of-fact pace. I assume the shrieking got even louder, but at this noise level it was hard to tell.

Louis takes his place behind the mic stand in the middle and immediately launches into the first song, The Greatest — a stadium anthem basically written explicitly for this spot on the setlist. Not wasting any time on greetings or announcements, he immediately follows up with the other big hit, Kill My Mind. From there, directly onto Bigger Than Me, another stadium-ready rock pop number.

I’m alarmed as I suddenly realize that the only catchy, recognizable songs have come and gone, ushering in the phase of uninterrupted filler songs. (I had dutifully listened to the tour setlist multiple times in preparation for the concert, but my brain just wouldn’t latch on to anything beyond the first three songs.)

At this point, I’m worried this will be a repeat of that time when I went to see P!nk live in concert and noticed too late that I knew none of her songs from after 2005. However, P!nk is a charismatic person and a great live singer who was doing somersaults on a bungee rope as 10 dancers were trampolining and performing aerial acrobatics around her.

Louis is not on a bungee rope. There are no dancers, there is no set piece, there is no stage show, no performance, no outfit changes, no real interaction with the band, and no traditional crowd work. He simply stands behind the mic, singing his songs, the screens above him showing live closeups of his face in black and white, and I’m not sure he smiles even once. For a teen heartthrob, he’s… not very throbby.

(His outfit, by the way, will already have been documented and analyzed by a dedicated Instagram account, @fashionlouist, the owners of which can somehow identify the exact brand and name of each piece he’s wearing within the first 20 minutes of every show. His sweatpants today cost £380.)

Louis on the same tour, earlier in the year. Photograph by Amber Patrick

After the fourth song, Louis finally addresses the audience. “(City), make some noise!” He thanks the two opening acts, and points out that this is one of the loudest crowds he has ever had. That’s it. I’m amused at how his lines are almost comically generic, but my friend explains what I’m not getting: “He always thanks the band, and he always says this wouldn’t be possible without the fans. And he wouldn’t say that if he didn’t mean it. And he only says something about the venue when it’s a really special one.”

She doesn’t see his boilerplate statements as him being uninterested or uninteresting. She sees consistency and authenticity, and judging by the beaming smiles all around me, so does everybody else.

Similarly, his outfit may look to me like he tried to make the least amount of effort, but the fandom like that he is “finally getting more comfortable wearing what he wants”.

In case you’re wondering, Louis’s appeal doesn’t lie in his singing skills either — his pitch gets shaky when the melody dips below the falsetto range, but he is clearly making a great effort in this department. Live singing is hard, and for the most part he’s doing a good job at it.

The interchangeable songs go on for a while, and still the elated fans around me seem to know every syllable. It is very warm, very loud, and for an outsider like me, very boring.

I go outside multiple times to have water, to get another beer, to go to the bathroom. I can’t help but notice that I am the only one in my row leaving her seat during the show. Everybody smiles politely as they let me squeeze past, but every time I do it I’m keenly aware of how inappropriate my behavior is. No one else seems to need or want a break.

In the ghostly emptiness outside I overhear a member of the bar staff complaining about the awful evening. At first I don’t understand what they could possibly find offensive about this quintessentially inoffensive music, but it later dawns on me that they were probably referring to the complete lack of beer and concessions sales. Most attendees are either too young to drink legally or too young to want to spend 6,50€ on a beer. Most of them seem to be sharing one cup of water, and no one is leaving during the concert to go to the bar for a refill.

Down the hall, I hear yelling and commotion which turns out to be paramedics on their way outside, transporting a passed-out teenage fan on a stretcher, accompanied by their panicked friend.

When I return to my seat, everybody around me is still scream-singing along to every single word of every single song, including my friend. They are having a great time. It looks like I missed out on “She Is Beauty We Are World Class“, which, as I had learned earlier that evening, is the song his fans collectively take as an opportunity to show off their rainbow flags and create a queer-accepting atmosphere at the show. Though Louis is, by all accounts, a cishet man, the One Direction fandom has a very, let’s say, specific relationship to queerness and queer symbols. More on that in just a moment.

My ears perk up for a bit when Louis gets to Back to You, a label-mandated collab with Digital Farm Animals and Bebe Rexha from 2017. He plays an altered version of the song with more of a rock sound, but it still stands out to me simply for using different chord progressions than all his other songs.

Funnily enough, in the lyrics of another song (We Made It), he directly addresses this qualm of mine: “Singing something poppy on the same four chords, used to worry about it but I don‘t no more“. To his credit, he really doesn’t pretend to be more than he is — that’s all other people‘s doing. Let me explain.

Not counting parents or outsiders like myself, there are three groups of people in this room: former fans of One Direction, Underdog Cheerleaders, and Larry Stylinson conspiracy theorists.

The first group is easy to explain and even easier to relate to: they were big fans of One Direction (or “1D”), and since that band doesn’t exist anymore, the closest thing to it are the concerts by its former members, all of whom have embarked on solo careers. These fans are the ones who visibly come to life during the two 1D songs that Louis plays this evening; and the ones waving the huge rainbow flag with all five 1D members printed on it. (Again, more on that in a second.)

The second group, whom I call the Underdog Cheerleaders, are the group that my friend belongs to. These are the people who are convinced that there was a grand plan by 1D’s management to make Harry Styles the breakout star of the group, and to suppress the careers of all other members for that reason.

But because they, the true fans, appreciate Louis for exactly what he is, they will do anything they can to support this underdog millionaire, whether by making his songs chart by listening at the same time, buying tickets to his livestream performance during Covid, or writing to the BBC to beg them to stop blacklisting his music. (Whether that was ever actually the case is unconfirmed.)

For them, the appeal lies not in his singing, his performance, or songwriting skills. The qualities that are always repeated when people praise Louis Tomlinson are that he is humble and down to earth; a simple lad from a working class family in northern England.

This is pointed out in every single write up about this man. His humanity is further compounded by the untimely deaths of his mother and sister within a few years of each other while he was ascending to solo fame. For the Underdog Cheerleaders, it’s not about music so much as it is about identifying with, celebrating and uplifting the least memorable person in a lineup of five.

And the third group… they are the ones who would purposely pair blue with green. These are the so-called Larries, the people who ship Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson as a couple.

You can find a great deep dive on the topic here, but the long and short of it is this: While there were ships for almost all possible combinations between the five members of One Direction (resulting in droll ship names such as Nouis or Ziall), the Larry ship was by far the most popular.

The ideological overlap between the Underdog Cheerleaders and the Larries is not zero, but while the cheerleaders just want to see the nice guy win, the Larries also want the nice guy (and Harry Styles) to come out as gay.

They are willing to accept any explanation, however flawed or implausible, for why Louis and Harry have yet to come out as a couple even though they have definitely secretly been together for a decade now and their respective heterosexual partners are absolutely paid actors and they even totally have a secret baby together.

The lack of evidence, the repeated denials by the two men in question and their polite but increasingly desperate requests to stop the madness have only fueled the fire.

The one thing that all three groups share is that for all of them, Louis’s public perception is forever tied up with the existence of Harry Styles. Whether he wants to or not, Louis is forever defined against his more popular former band mate, whether as his colleague, competitor, villain, or lover.

It’s about an hour and a half into the show as I allow myself a peek at the set list on my phone. We’re finally nearing the end. Watching the unsmiling face of Louis Tomlinson, I’m wondering — is he enjoying himself? Who even is this person?

By seeing this image, you have experienced the complete stage show of the “Faith in the Future” tour. Photograph by Steve Jennings

The encore consists of three songs. When Louis gets to the last one, he descends into the pit. Still singing, he walks up to the first row who have been camping outside since the day before in order to get this spot. He touches a few of the outstretched hands, walks along the front row to the left, bends into the crowd for a few seconds, and when he reappears he no longer has his tank top on. His fans have ripped it off his body. He retreats back onto the stage, says a few polite words of thanks, and disappears.

And then, the magic is over as quickly as it began. The lights turn on, background music plays, and people immediately start filing out in an orderly manner. Some are clasping the red confetti bands that rained over the audience during the last song, and their faces look like they will treasure this souvenir forever. In the chilly darkness outside, a well-informed busker with a guitar sings songs by Louis and 1D, and a small crowd gathers around him to sing along while waiting for the shuttle bus back to the city.

At the end of the night, I’m left wondering what all these thousands of young fans really care about. Even though everybody knows all the music by heart, it doesn’t really seem to be about the music. And even though there’s a throng of fans crowded around the stage exit for a chance to wave at the tour bus with Louis in it, I don’t know whether this really has anything to do with him personally.

Because at its innermost core, this fandom is about itself. Not in the sense of its specific members — I didn’t see many fans interacting and making new friends — but rather, the fandom as an abstract entity.

It’s the joy of belonging to an in-group; of sending and receiving signals that only the initiated will understand. The firm belief that you’re backing the right horse, that you’re part of something “Bigger Than Me”, that there is a purpose to your music listening.

Who is Louis Tomlinson? I still have no idea, and neither does it really matter. Nobody else cares. They will make Louis Tomlinson into whatever they need him to be.

#louis tomlinson #harry styles #zayn #liam payne #larries #this is how people outside the fandom view Louis #1d reunion #brilliant analysis

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