#and him assuming that payne went through the same things

[technically-human]

Misunderstandings part 1/3

This is what happens when you don't talk to each other, boys.

@i-am-as-normal-as-you-are commissioned this one, and as you can see, it will have three parts, so go thank Haunted if you like it!

[fobarchiveteam]

23 years ago today is when Fall Out Boy got their name. We all know the story from The Oral History of TTTYG that FOB’s second show where they famously got their name was at a “Southern Illinois university” while opening for The Killing Tree. For the longest time, it was unknown where this mysterious college was. We finally found our answer: Western Illinois University. Not only did we find the college where they played, but the date of the show- November 30th, 2001. We know this because of a guestbook submission from Patrick’s old band website, Patterson.

After finding this, we went through multiple websites. We eventually landed on an old record label that Arma Angelus was on before Eulogy Records, Happy Couples Never Last Records. On the page about Arma, there are shows listed. One of those shows said they were playing the Western with a few other bands.

Pete even mentions on Arma’s LiveJournal on 11/29/01 that “fallout boy” is playing at the Western the next day. We then thought about looking up the other bands that were on the line-up. After searching through a few sites, we found the website for the band Backup. Backup had past shows listed on their site that were thankfully saved by the Wayback Machine. We found the same show listed on their site (with a slight lineup change) and confirmed that the Western is Western Illinois University.

After looking through the school’s archives including student newspapers, we found an issue from November 2001. We found out there was a column called “The Edge”. This column was all about local music and was published every Friday. It had listings for shows that were up and coming. AND THAT’S HOW WE FOUND THIS:

This was super exciting to see, but it left us with more questions than answers…

FOB is listed as Falloutboy and not the alternate name they had before, which was Short Story; Unhappy Ending, even though Patrick claims they would be playing the show under that name. In the same paper, at the bottom of page 7, they describe the bands that would be playing that upcoming night, and they are referred to Short Story; Unhappy Ending.

In the exact same newspaper, the band is referred to with two different names, and the newspaper never acknowledges this. We also found a review of the show from December 7th, 2001. 

This makes it even more confusing! What could “previous name” possibly mean? We know that the first show at DePaul was played under Forget Me Not according to Mani Mostofi in Where Are Your Boys Tonight? by Chris Payne.

Here’s some facts that we know:

Fall Out Boy was a name proposed by Ben Rose

It was one of many names being considered in those first few shows

Someone in the crowd shouted “Fuck that, no, you’re Fall Out Boy” in response to Pete saying a “very long band name” according to Patrick, which we can reasonably assume is Short Story. 

Tim McIlrath, who was the frontman for The Killing Tree, thanked FOB as Fall Out Boy after they played, which solidified that as their name

Also to note, Andy Hurley was at this show. He played with Project Rocket. Here is a photo of him that was shown in that same review.

We leave this with more questions (but also with answers). We figured out what the Western was and proof of the show happening. BUT the names are still a mystery. Was the listing published after the show? Why were they referred to Short Story; Unhappy Ending on one page then Falloutboy on the next one? Did the person in the crowd shout that because he saw the paper the morning of? Or was it someone who worked on the paper who shouted it?

Final thing to note: recalling the Patterson guestbook post from Patrick, we also theorize that Dressed to Thrill is another one of the rotating names. At first, we assumed that Dressed To Thrill was another pre-established band that Patrick was incorrectly assumed to be joining, but the phrasing leaves it open to either possibility. Plus, we couldn’t actually find anything about a band from the time called Dressed to Thrill.

[avirams]

For the AA related event... What are your thoughts on Edgeworth?

edgeworth,,, miles,,, good ol' edgey boy,,, short answer? i really like him too!! his development and character are super nicely written. long answer? well-

when i first saw him on my dash, i was fairly neutral on him. i think my most developed thought was that he looked kinda weird. once i decided to actually play the series tho, and followed more tags and things it was more,, "hey!! this guy's pretty cool!!!"

then i started actually playing the game. id like to think im a fairly logical person, as most games that i play are usually logic based. my strengths in danganronpa, yttd, etc etc were the investigation and trial bits. so naturally i assumed hey!! im gonna ACE this!!!

and i did! the first trial, i absolutely destroyed payne. so i stupidly assumed that the rest of the game would be that simple, with no objections whatsoever. of course, the next trial would beg to differ.

thats when edgeworth came in. i had figured out the "mia couldnt have written the note if she died instantly" almost a WEEK before we even started the trial. pride goes before a fall, and i had waaayyy too much of it in myself. and then this man. edgeworths FIRST OBJECTION in this ENTIRE SERIES was the updated autopsy report. i think i gave the entire house headaches because of how loud i raged at my screen

then the outside of trial stuff happened, unnecessary feelings blablabla. by this point i had a love-hate relationship with him. id say things like "man. i miss edgeworth wonder what hes doing rn" and then the second he showed up id get mad again fkdkgmf

then, we have turnabout goodbyes. still one of my most favourite trials to date tbh. i play with my sister, and she was convinced edgeworth was the killer. myself on the other hand, i was sure he was innocent. i think phoenix must have rubbed off on me or something but i investigated SO hard mgdkfk,, but yep. that trial was when i really started understanding him for sure

edgeworth is one of my favourites because as i previously stated, not to brag but im really good at trials and logic based exercises, to the point where they bore me. so my first assumption was that ace attorney would be the same.

i know now that the reason why i hated edgeworth so much at first was because with him around, i couldnt get everything right, but oddly enough im SUPER grateful to him now. his objections really challenged me!! hes honestly the biggest reason why i enjoy this series so much. i still get overworked when versing him but its all in good fun now!! hes great.

tldr; hated him at first, love him now

tbh,, you could almost say my opinion of edgeworth went through more development than HE did. gosh this was a wild ride. absolutely love him now though, playing as him in investigations and watching him go ngHOooOh is funny.

only complaint is how they keep on bringing him back and forgetting about klavier and the others 😭 hes great but i think his arc is over,, unlike klaviers,, but thats a story for another anon >:}

tysm for the ask, it was a great excuse to ramble :DD ily/p nonnie, have a great day/night^^

[talicat713]

It’s Always Been Molly

John Shelby x OC story

Part Two

A/N: Hello again everyone! Part Two is here! Hope you all enjoy.  Thank you to the person who made the GIF above! If you would like to or haven't read Part One I will try to link it below.  Happy reading!

PART ONE

Warnings: cursing, language, angst, mention of pregnancy, alcohol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting for the betting shop to close, Molly started to get anxious. When Tommy spoke with her on the phone, he said he would send everyone home early, so she wouldn’t run into the family. She didn’t know how they all reacted to her leaving. They were all distracted with having to figure out what to do about John and Martha’s pregnancy.  Tommy was the only one who knew when Molly left and where she was going. 

Molly was pulled out of her thoughts when Jacob told her he had seen everyone leave. He also said it looked like Tommy was waiting outside for her. Molly slipped her coat on and grabbed her bag. “Do me a favor and tidy mums room for me. That’s where I want to sleep,” she says as she kissed her brother on the cheek and gave him a reassuring smile as she walked out the door. 

She quickly walked across the street toward Tommy and the two exchanged hellos. Tommy then held the door open for her and once they were both inside, Tommy led her to the office and gestured for her to sit. 

She looked around the shop and the home. Nothing had changed much. This was the place she spent most of her time as a child. Their mother, Polly and her mother were best friends and this would be where they would all meet to chat. Even though this place was so familiar to her, she was anxious being back in it. 

Tommy went to sit at his desk, watching the girl in front of him shake with anxiety. He cleared his throat, causing the girl to look over at him, “So Molly, why are you so nervous?”

Molly looked down at her hands and sighed,” I’m not nervous,” she lied, “just embarrassed. After everything you have done for Jake and me, he goes and fucks it up.”

“How do you suppose we handle this then,” Tommy asks. She then reaches down for her bag and pulls out a wad of money. 

“This should be twenty-five percent of what he took. I’ve got another fifty arriving in a few days with the rest of my belongs. I’ve quit both my jobs, so I’m here in Small Heath for the foreseeable future,” she says as she places the money on the desk in front of her. 

“I’ll do whatever you need Tommy until the debt is paid.”

“You were a nanny in London right? Are you okay with watching over Johns kids and Finn and keeping this place clean?” Tommy offers. “I understand if you are not, but there isn’t much else I can offer you that’s far enough away from our business.”

“I’ll do it”, she say as she exhales the breath she was holding. 

“Are you sure? ,” he asked. Molly then just nodded her head.

“Well, it’s settled then. You can stay here if you’d like or across the street with Jacob. Everyone usually leaves at the same time every day. I’m assuming you’ll want to clean during the evening. You’ll only be needed to watch Johns kids when his in house nanny is not around. And Finn, he will be around all the time. Polly told us we need to keep him away from all of this.”

Molly chuckled a little watching him gesture to the surrounding area while rolling his eyes. “You know I’ll be fine with that. He’s been my favorite Shelby since the day he was born,” she says with a smile and stood up.“Now that business settled, let’s do that disgusting spit handshake thing you Shelby’s do and break out that whiskey I know you have hidden in your desk. Lord only knows I’m going to need it.”

Tommy smiled at her and laughed, “Sit back down! A regular handshake will do.” Tommy then leans down into the drawer grabbing the whiskey and two glasses. He pours the amber liquid into those glasses and push’s one over to her. “Welcome to Shelby Company Miss Payne,” as they raise their glasses. 

The pair had then spent a few hours catching up. Molly listened to the war stories, business stories and family stories. When Tommy told her what happened with Martha, she felt her heart grow heavy. The two had been best friends for a long time.  John had always come between them. They both fell pretty hard for him, and he always chose Molly. Until the one day he didn’t, and she left. 

“So how have you been? Did you like living in London? ,” Tommy asked, pulling Molly out of her thoughts?

She looked over at him with a smile, recalling all the memories, “When I first got there I hated it, but I knew I couldn’t bare to come back here, so I pushed through.  I was only sixteen, so I had nowhere to go. I lived on the street and luckily after two days, I had helped an older woman with her groceries and when she asked if I needed somewhere to stay, she let me stay with her. Then moved in with her son and his wife who needed some help with child care and had been with them ever since as their nanny.  I also put myself through nursing classes and midwifery classes. Eventually, I dated a few men,” she continued as she reached up to play with her necklace, “but they were never good to me, so I gave up.”

“I can’t believe you still wear that,” he said, pointing to the necklace.

It was the first real thing John had ever given her that was meaningful. It was their mothers' and Molly always admired it when she wore it. John said on her deathbed, she asked him to give it to Molly as a token of his love for her. And when he had given it to her, she never took it off even after all these years. 

“You still love him don’t you?”, Tommy continued curiously.

She stood up, ignoring Tommy’s statement. “I better get back. Jacob probably thinks you murdered me. Are you okay with me starting in a few days? I would like to get settled,” she said as she put her coat back on and grabbed her bag. 

Tommy gave her nod and walked her to the door.  Before she left she turned around to give him a hug and whispered,” To answer your question, Yes I still love him. I never stopped.” 

As she turned to leave, Tommy grabbed her wrist to face him again, “He never stopped asking where you had gone. In the back of his mind, he knew that I knew, but I never told him. Eventually he just stopped asking, and they just kept having kids. While we were away at war, he cried out for you at night. He’s always loved you Molly. He never stopped loving you either.”

“I’ll see you in a few days Thomas,” she says as she stepped out into the night. She was almost at her door when she heard Tommy yell something across the street. 

“It’s always been you Molly. It’s always been you.”

(posted 07/03/2020)

[sunflowerkiwi93]

Now That We’re Done - HS

All Parts: HERE

Summary: A twenty year old dancer, Elizabeth Payne, is recovering from a traumatic past with the help of her older brother, Liam. The two of them have been yearning for peace for quite some time, and when a good friend comes to live with them for the summer they start their journey towards finding it.  Through ups, downs, relapses, and two albums- Liz fights through her own mind to get better.

Warnings: There are mentions of abuse, PTSD, and anxiety throughout every part.  Also- mature content. One of the guys doesn’t turn out to be so great- this story is not intended to give him this image.  This is all purely fiction.

Part Seven

Laying down across my couch the tv played meaningless sitcoms as I scrolled through my phone.  Twitter was alive as I interacted with some of my fans, and I watched the trending hashtags closely like I usually did.

Some people were tweeting questions about my sister, about my sister and Harry and about my sister again.  

Her name hadn’t been out in the world this huge since it happened.  She was posted all over social media, her face across nearly every magazine in the world with trashy articles written about her left and right.  There were a few that steered away from it and supported her, and I personally reached out to those companies to thank them and to help them work on any future projects.

Now that Elizabeth had been spotted three times in the same month, the world didn’t know how to act.

What happened to my sister didn’t die down until a year after it happened.  She went into hiding, we put her into hiding, and made sure she was completely out of the public eye.

A new tweet popped up to the top of my feed.

@julesstevens798: your sister sure knows how to run through your group of friends huh. #liampayneqanda

I stared at it for a moment and watched as a few replies followed it.

@onedxalways54: Shut up!!! U dont know her or them!! Leave her alone. She went through serious shit.

@julesstevens798: so she gets to whore around again with another one direction guy?! seems messed up to me. isnt she fucked up in the head anyway!?

I wanted to block her and throw my phone away, but instead I refreshed the page.  Torturing myself some more.

@camcam_ryannn: @julesstevens798 And Harrys entire album was about Kendall who are we kidding.  One D Always can shut her mouth. Harrys just looking for a fuck. #liampayneqanda

@julesstevens798: @camcam_ryannn and easiest way to get it is to use someone mentally unstable!!!! LOL!!!!

@camcam_ryannn: @julesstevens798 I bet she knows what shes doing too.  How long has it been shes had sex am I right?!?!?

@julesstevens789: @camcam_ryannn lol girl, who knows where shes been and who shes been with!!!!  they probably all slept with her when she lived with them before!!!  probably why she moved in!!!

I stopped myself from reading the thread between those two girls and tossed my phone to the side.  I buried my face into my hands and let out a scream.  Something I could only do when I was completely alone.  My heart was on fire and I could feel it through my entire body.  I jumped up and paced around my living room.  I tried reminding myself that those people online really have no idea what they’re talking about.  They don’t know what's on the inside.  They don’t know how many nights I held my sister as she cried herself to sleep.  

How two years ago I found her lying on my kitchen floor in a ball screaming that she did this to herself with tears streaming down her face.  I couldn’t get her up on my own, I could barely hold myself together. I knew I had to for her sake, so I called Harry.  By the time he got to my house Elizabeth was sitting up with her face against my kitchen cabinets still sobbing as I tried to hold onto her.  Harry ran through the front door, leaving it open behind him, and threw himself to the ground in front of her.  He tried to grab onto her hands and she fought him away.

“Don’t touch me!” She shouted at him, “Don’t come near me!”  Harry sat back and watched her.  He looked all over her and closed his eyes.

“Elizabeth,” He said in a soft voice.  She didn’t acknowledge him, “Elizabeth.” He said again, opening his eyes.

“Stop!” She shouted covering her ears.  I sat back leaning against the cabinet next her and covered my face trying my hardest to hold back my tears.  “Go away,” She demanded, “Go!”

“I’m not leaving,” Harry said in the same tone he spoke in before.

“Please!  Leave!” She shouted, sliding her body down to lay completely on the floor where she was before.  “You shouldn’t be here,” Her voice got quiet but still she cried.  I looked up to Harry who was looking at me with a sad expression and he quickly returned his attention to my sister.  “I shouldn’t be here,” She said quickly and stopped her crying abruptly.

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, maintaining his gentle voice.  Normally I could handle myself in a situation like this, but it never got this bad.  My hands were shaking as I sat beside my sister unable to comfort her.  She sat up and glanced around the room, not looking at me or Harry.

“I shouldn’t be here,” She whispered.  Her lips were red, her eyes were bloodshot and her skin was pale and washed out.  Her cheeks were stained with tears and her hair was in the same bun it's been in for weeks.  It’d been a month since we’d been home from the tour.

“I don’t... deserve this,” Her hands started to shake.  She tucked her knees into her chest, “I don’t deserve him, he’s so much better without me.  I ruined his life.  I don’t deserve to be here, to have you or anyone,” She looked to me with sad eyes, “Why is life worth it, why should I even try?” I reached over to hold onto her hands a bit too fast and she flinched, jumping away, pinning herself to the cabinet with a crash.  She stared at me with her eyes wide open.  My hands, still out in the air, fell to my lap and I cried.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said clearly, “You know me, you know who I am.  I’m not going to hurt you.”  She stared at me, her eyes still wide, and she watched me cry.  We sat that way for a minute.

“No,” She said and swiftly stood up and hurried away from the both of us.  Harry jumped up and chased after her.  I took a deep breath and got up to follow them.  When I turned into the bathroom where they were, Harry had my sister in his arms.  He had his back pressed against the shower with Elizabeth facing away from him sobbing into her arms mumbling something I couldn’t even understand.  Harry, still somehow staying strong, nodded at me and closed his eyes for a second.

“We have to take her,” He whispered and she sobbed again clearly shouting and disagreeing with him into her arms.  I let more tears fall, swallowed my pride and left to grab the car keys.

Harry carried her out to the car clearly strong enough to resist her fighting and he held her against him in the backseat.  No one spoke until the car was in park.  Liz had stopped crying and uncovered her face to look at Harry.  He gave her a soft smile.  She sat up, looked out the window and let out a staggered breath.

“You should just leave me here,” She sniffled and wiped her face with her sleeves.

“We won’t be doing that,” Harry said firmly.  She looked at him, then to me, then to Harry and began to cry again.

“Come on,” She fell back toward his chest and with that we brought her out of the car and into the hospital and stayed with her there overnight.

I fell back into the sofa and sunk into the cushions directing my attention to the TV.  I did tap on my phone once to check the time.  It read 8:07.  I frowned at it, crossed my arms over my chest and looked at the TV again.  Tapping my right foot against the floor I did my best to fight the urge of calling Harry.  He and my sister had been out since about 10 o’clock this morning.  He told me they’d be home before the sunset, but that timeframe was quickly coming to a close.  I hadn’t heard from either of them all day.  I had actually planned for nothing to do for the sole purpose of being free to answer my sister's calls, but I assume she’s fine.  The moment I reached for my phone ready to call him, the front door swung open.  Harry waltzed in with my sister under his arm and they were laughing.  I watched them quietly.  Elizabeth twisted herself around and wrapped her arms around Harry's back, her face in line with his chest.  He was incredibly taller than her.  Her chin was tilted up and she was smiling at him.  His arms fell around her as he smiled back and touched his forehead to hers. He whispered something to her and she blushed.  He whispered to her again and she grinned.  Their eyes never parted.

She said something to him and he took a second to answer.  Whatever he said to her made her frown, but he quickly said something right after to make her laugh.  She pushed him away shaking her head.

“Harry!” She nearly snorted.  I clicked the TV off and their heads turned to me in shock, both their mouths fell open.

“Hi,” I said happily and a little uneasy.  Elizabeth hesitated a moment but then she hurried her way in the living room to hop on the couch beside me.  Her face was glowing and her smile was beaming.  Her hair and makeup weren’t as done up as they were when she left this morning, but she looked beautiful.  She leaned into me for a hug.  Pulling her in I saw Harry over her shoulder watching us with his hands in his pockets.  He gave me a small smile, and I pulled away from Elizabeth before I thought about returning it back to him.  My mind still influenced by Twitter.

“How was your day?” I asked giving her my full smile and attention.  Harry looked unsure to me as he slummed his way around the other couch to sit down.  My eyes didn’t deter from my sister.  Elizabeth talked for fifteen minutes about the day they had, Harry chiming in now and then to answer her questions and to clarify things for me.  The coffee they had, the records they bought, the hats they tried on, the drums that she played, the ice cream and the dinner they ate.

“I asked if we could walk the rest of the way home once we turned the corner to our neighborhood,” Her eyebrows raised.

“You know where that is?” I questioned pulling a face.  She nodded.

“Course I do.  I don’t forget Liam,” She poked a finger to my chest, “We got out of the car and walked,” She sighed, her eyes closing, “The air was wonderful.  To be outside at that hour surrounded by nothing but green.” Glancing to Harry, his elbow was on the arm of the sofa with his head resting in his hand.  He was gazing at her with a smile.

“It was so... ethereal.” She let out a breath as if she’d been holding it in.  Harry and I were both surprised by her choice of words.

“You’ve been spending too much time with him,” I joked pointing to Harry.  Elizabeth covered her mouth and laughed.  She looked over her shoulder at Harry, the two of them smiling, and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.  I cleared my throat gently to break the silence and Elizabeth turned to me.

“I think I might go call Kens, is that okay?” She asked. I looked at her confused.

“You don’t have to ask,” I told her, “Are you okay?” My mind trickled back to Twitter.

“Yeah!” She breathed, “I just want to tell her about today that’s all.” Her smile was still on her face.  Harry and I both let her go off to her room.  Harry watched her all the way until she turned the corner of the hallway.

“So,” I started and waited for him to look back at me.  I took a much needed deep breath, “It was a good day, yeah?” Harry sat forward, elbows to his knees, and looked me in the eye.

“You have the greatest sister,” He said, his voice quiet, “She and I had the best day I’ve had in a long time.  Unbelievable to think of where she was just last year, mentally.” The use of that word threw my mind for a spin.  I looked down at my feet and continued to listen.

“She went a lot longer than I thought she was going to.  I thought after the record store we would’ve been done and coming back,” He scoffed, “I was very wrong.”  I nodded along my eyes looking at him again.

“Liam,” He leaned forward a tiny bit more, “She was singing in the car, she was dancing to the music in the car, she was acting like she was when she was eighteen.” His voice was low.  A smile snuck onto my face.

“I couldn’t tell you what’s happening,” I said truthfully, “She’s...” My voice trailed off.

“Getting better,” Harry finished my thought.  We looked at each other with a smile before his fell.  He sat back on the couch and looked at his lap.  He looked like he had something to say.  Now was my time to lean forward, elbows to my knees.  His eyebrows were low as his eyes flickered to find mine.

“What?” I asked softly with a hint of big brother in it.  Harry licked his lips and took a breath.

“We kissed in the park on the way home,” He spoke guiltily softly.  I felt a tinge of anger.  As a brother you don’t really want to hear those things about your sister especially from one of your good friends, and with the situation we’re in here at home I didn’t know how to take it.  We sat in silence.  The sound of Elizabeth's feet came barreling down the hallway.  Harry and I both sat up straight to see her.  She hightailed her way into me and nearly fell on top of me.

“Kens!” She exclaimed, “She’s so happy!  She’s calling you tomorrow, Liam.  I feel so great,” She held her chest breathing heavily, “Gosh, I can’t catch my breath.” She groaned, immediately looked to Harry and the two of them shared a laugh.

“Alright, well tell her I’m looking forward to it,” I grinned.  She said goodnight to Harry and I, and popped her phone into my hands without thinking twice about it and walked back toward her room.

“I was on twitter not too long ago,” I started.  Harry's head turned to me, “And I read some things I didn’t need to read.”

“Oh no, Liam,” Harry giggled a bit, “Don’t you remember the first rule from media training!” He joked and I could remember those days of sitting in a room for hours learning the ways.  I talked over my laughter.

“I do, trust me, but as a brother I had to forget that rule.”

“How long ago was it on there?” Harry asked, pulling his phone out.

“Harry, you don’t have to-“ I started to say but he found it quick.  He pulled a face.

“No, no,” He stated.  His eyes continued to read and they shot open wide, “This is disgusting!” He shouted.  I shushed him for Elizabeth’s sake.

“I know.  It’s terrible,” I agreed.  Harry tossed his phone on the coffee table not even bothering to lock it.

“Alright Liam Payne Q and A,” He scooted to the end of the couch he was on to get closer to mine, “What do you have to say about them, because I know something is coming.” Harry squinted his eyes.  I know he’s waiting for me to get angry, and for me to throw a fit.  He’s waiting for me to blame him.  To put all of this on him as if he wrote those tweets himself because that’s how I used to treat this stuff.  I brought my hand to the back of my neck and shook my head.

“It’s not her’s, nor is it your fault those tweets were written,” I said.  Harry scoffed, telling me I was right, “It just makes me upset that people could think those things about her... and you.”  Harry shrugged.

“That’s been our lives, Liam,” He explained, “Every person we’re seen with, every place we go, everything we say.  All of it is always twisted, always pulled out of proportion.  Everything everyone knows about us is not even half true.”

“Yeah,” I bobbed my head.

“Don’t let teenagers on twitter affect you or your life.  You’ve come so far with your sister and you know her heart.  You know who she’s been with and where she’s been.  Right?”  He schooled me.

“Right,” I answered.

“Right!” He exclaimed, “I kissed your sister, but I swear I won’t do it again nor will I lay a finger on her until I know you’re going to be okay.” He stated looking me straight in the eye.  I could see the heat in his face, the passion behind his words.  He spoke from his heart, he always has.  With everything in me I trusted him.  He’s stuck with us for so long, and he keeps coming back.  He comes back to see her.  He came back to help me take care of her on multiple occasions.  Looking at our past it was clear his heart was always there at the frontline.  He was just about to leave me and I stopped him in his tracks.

“Harry,” I said, lifting a hand to make him pause.  He sat back down and waited.  Folding my hands together I held them on top of my forehead, “I think... you need to...” Harry shook his head and shot me a crazy look.

“What?” He asked in a funny voice.

“I think you need to let it happen,” I said looking him in the eyes.  He stared back at me in shock, and I could tell he had a smile in there somewhere.

“Really?” He whispered, not making a move.

“Yes,” I answered swiftly ignoring the darker side of my mind, “It’s clear you’re both... in love.” I thought of another word to use but there wasn’t one.

“She is?” He was still whispering and had barely moved.

“Oh, she hasn’t said anything?” I questioned, but smirked, knowing what I just did.

“No, neither of us said anything.”

I ran a hand under my chin and nodded.

“Interesting,” I said mysteriously.  Harry still sat there frozen staring at me, “Harold, get it together.” I laughed, clapping my hands together.  He didn’t move but his smile grew larger and larger.

“Thanks Liam,” He said, and with that he left the room and started down the hall to his room.  He and Elizabeth both turn left at the end of the hallway to get to their rooms, and I’m the only one who makes a right.  Letting that information marinate in my brain for a moment, it actually didn’t bother me as much as I thought it was going to.  He got to the end and I’m pretty sure I watched him fist bump himself a ‘hell yeah’ as he turned the corner.  I found my phone and held it up to unlock it.  I quickly swiped out of twitter and went into my messages where I had two waiting for me from Kens.

K-Evening!  It seems as though our girl has had a lovely day.  I’d like to call you tomorrow for you and I to chat a bit about it.

K- Elizabeth told me you were okay with a call.  I’ll be in touch tomorrow!

I didn’t bother to explain why I hadn’t answered, she knew I was home with Elizabeth and Harry.  I sent her a thumbs up, locked my phone and started for my bedroom.  Glancing to my left when I got to the end of the hallway, Harry's door was shut but my sisters was open.  She always left her door open at night.  I stepped to it quietly and peeked my head in.  Instead of curling up into a ball like she usually did, she had both her hands over her head and she was laying on her back with her knees tucked in.  She looked insanely at peace.  I blew her a kiss and went to bed.

[liam-93-productions]

They still scream. Four years after One Direction went on a hiatus that looks more permanent with every SNL shading and deathless interview comment, Liam Payne can still make girls giddy. Or, rather, not girls anymore. Women. It’s the night before the release of his debut solo album, LP1, and he’s launching it in cahoots with Huawei, throwing a listening party where 150 contest winners can preview it on the brand’s new FreeBuds 3 earphones. They nod along happily as the first two tracks play in their ears. They sip their wine – they can legally drink now – and assume this sneak peak is their prize. Then the curtain at the end of the room drops. There’s Liam Payne, the boy whose poster graced millions of bedroom walls, in the flesh.

It’s been 12 years since Payne first appeared on The X Factor; a decade since the birth of One Direction, when on his second audition he and four boys he’d never met were jammed together, formless teenage clay fashioned into a record-selling miracle. They burned bright. They burned out. They split. They grew up. Their fans did, too.

But when he appears, as if summoned up, they still scream. Payne’s music might lack the for-the-jugular songwriting that made One Direction the biggest act on earth for half a decade, but that doesn’t matter. They scream for the idea of Liam Payne, not necessarily the reality. The scream is the memory of dancing to ‘You Don’t Know You’re Beautiful’ in their bedroom. Of a stolen selfie at a record signing, in the days before the tattoos, the drinking problems, (...), the sultry underwear campaign.

But for everyone outside this room, outside this scream, these are the things that define him now. The new Liam Payne makes adult music, in the clothes-on-a-bedroom-floor sense of the word. The new album is the fruit of an orchard-full of writers and producers, recorded in studios across the globe, and rattles through tropical house, trap, low-slung funk and, strangest of all, Christmas songs. It’s more like listening to an artist’s entire back catalogue on shuffle than a cohesive album. But in a Spotify playlist world, perhaps that’s the best way to get a hit.

And hits are what Payne wants. He’s competitive, he admits backstage before the show. He's the fourth Directioner to drop an album and he wants his to compare. But he claims not to worry about that too much. He’s done enough worrying since the band split and now, he thinks, he's dealt with it. Therapy. Counselling. Self-examination. He’s done the soul-searching. He's a new man, now. But he still enjoys the scream.

You’ve worked with lots of different producers, lots of songwriters. Do you feel that you have a ‘sound’ at this point?

For the longest time I had no clue whether I had a sound, but the more I listened to the album, the more it seems like there’s a constant seam that goes through the whole thing. Like, with an artist like Migos, a lot of their kind of sound is based around the ad libs and the crazy stuff they do in the background. So yeah, I think at this point I do have a sound, I just can’t really put a wording on it. Because of how many genres of music we’ve done over the last few years – everything from the song I did with Rita [Ora] to a song in Spanish. But it’s kind of nice not to have those boundaries.

Is there a sense of competition with the other guys?

Of course there’s a competition. There’s charts and numbers and figures, but at the same time it’s very hard to compete when we’re doing such different things. It’s like playing different sports almost, with someone doing soft rock music, someone who does hip hop, they’re not really in the same genre and the same people aren’t really listening. So yeah, due to our age and origin, it makes sense for competition. For any other reason, it’s a bit ludicrous.

How much do you speak to them these days?

We send homing pigeons to each other. No, we actually, with a lot of them I haven’t spoken to them. With Harry [Styles] for example – what I always try to describe to people is this, because it’s difficult for people – well, it’s actually not that difficult for people to understand. One Direction was my office. So if you change everything, just put desks in, in an office environment, some people talk, some people don’t talk, there’s something about someone you absolutely hate, that’s literally the way an office works. By the time we got to the end of One Direction, it was like the office ended and that was the end of it. You didn’t come back in. So I spoke to Louis [Tomlinson] more than I spoke to anyone, me and Niall [Horan] saw eye to eye on some things and not others. Then with Harry I just didn’t know anything about him. And that’s not his fault or my fault, it’s just the way that that laid out, when you’ve been put in that room together and then exposed to this whizz-bang of fame.

For people on the outside, it might seem strange that you could have ever spent that much time with people in a really intimate setting, and still have this sense of distance from people.

I mean, we spoke, me and Harry caught a laugh every so often. It wasn’t like we never spoke, that we just saw him around, but it was not like I’d see him on the weekend, that we’d go out or anything together. Because we just don’t have anything in common. I don’t have nothing against the boy, I think he’s a beautiful beautiful person, he’s a very lovely person, and you can see that by how many people he meets that get along with him, the general thing you hear coming back is true. And I can say that from my own experience with him but I just haven’t spoken to him for a number of years because our music – I’m like the antichrist version, to his christness.

You’ve talked openly about your drinking recently, about realising you had a problem and going teetotal for a year to try and get it back in check. What was the point that made you realise things had to change?

It was more friends. It wasn’t like an intervention as such, as it were. I think it’s important that you pick one person in life that you really take their opinion on. It’s like you have that PE teacher at school who, when you get told off by them, it hurts 10 times more because you respect them. I have somebody in my life who is very much that person. They were just a bit like, maybe you should look into this. I just went to therapy and spoke about it and spoke to people who’d been through the same things and different things. Russell Brand was one of the people who got me sober for that year. I spent a little bit of time with Russell, went down to meetings in working men’s clubs where it was just me and Russell Brand and loads of factory workers, bin men, whatever you can imagine and they’re telling each other stories. He was recounting his time of before, when he used to whatever, and it was really interesting and it’s nice to feel you’re not alone. In a room full of men as well – I went to loads of different meetings, it was mixed meetings and all sorts – but this first one I did was just a room full of blokes pouring their hearts out. I was like, fucking hell, this is crazy.

Was that experience intimidating at all? You’ve got a very different background, a different experience of drinking. Is it strange being in a place so far removed from the place you spent the last 10 years of your life?

It was comforting actually, more than anything. It was nice to go in a room and everyone was having a chat about stuff and you know, because it’s anonymous, there was always the fear about someone coming out and saying something about me, but they never did. And thats the one thing I’d say, no one even knew until I said I went to therapy that I’d been. So it was really nice that you could sit in that room and tell these stories and hear these stories of different people and different characters coming through that were completely different to you, but going through the same shit.

Do you think there was a sense of community there that perhaps you hadn’t had, spending your youth in such a unique environment?

Yeah, definitely. But for a long, long time, it sort of reminded me of when I used to go to the pub with my old man and I’d sit round chatting different things. It felt a bit like home.

Liam Payne performed an impromptu intimate gig for the Huawei FreeBuds 3 ‘listening party’ at London’s Omeara, allowing fans the opportunity to listen to the new album with crystal clear sound thanks to their active noise cancellation. Buy them here.

[hlupdate]

Louis’ full interview for The Guardian - 25/09/19

After Louis Tomlinson’s recent show in Madrid, some fans got the chance to meet him. One girl wanted to talk to him about his song Two of Us , which he had written after the death of his mother. The girl had lost her dad, and wanted the singer to know how much his lyrics had meant to her. He’d never had that in his band One Direction, he says. “We wrote cool songs, but they were love songs. It only goes so far, and to have someone say that I could help them with my …” He pauses. “It blows my mind, that shit. I was proper proud.” It has been a hard few years. Tomlinson’s mother died in 2016, just as he was about to launch his first solo single. In March this year, his 18-year-old sister was found unconscious at her flat in London and couldn’t be revived. We will come to that, but, professionally, Tomlinson was struggling too. One Direction - that supernova of a boy band - broke up in 2015. Or announced they were taking a break. Or “‘hiatus’ or whatever word we use”, he says with a smile. At the time, Tomlinson, now 27, was finding his place as a songwriter. “I wasn’t singing a lot, I wasn’t the frontman. Without being a sorry little bastard, I thought: ‘How do I do better, how do I make something of myself, an identity?’” In the last 18 months of One Direction, he says, “I felt like I knew who I was in the band, and I felt a real worth for who I was.” The break up, he says, “rocked me. I wasn’t ready for it. I felt like I was getting to be a better songwriter, singer, a more confident performer, and all of a sudden, when I felt I was finally getting some momentum …” We meet at a bar in north London. Tomlinson greets me with a hug as if I am one of his fans (I am not, particularly, although I am by the end). He seems open but not vulnerable, and more self-aware and modest than you would expect from a man who was once part of the biggest boy band in the world. He is friendly and relaxed, dressed in a black tracksuit, with a beer in front of him. Tomlinson’s personal tragedies also meant his solo career has had a bit of a stop-start quality, but now it looks as if there is focus and momentum. He released his single Kill My Mind earlier this month; an album will follow next year. Kill My Mind is an indie-pop delight, not so huge a departure as to alienate his fanbase, but it sounds like the music he grew up listening to - Oasis and Arctic Monkeys - and his South Yorkshire accent brings more than a hint of Liam Gallagher-style northern vocals. He sounds confident on them, more so than on the previous singles he put out, a couple of fairly forgettable collaborations. “I think, in hindsight, that was me trying to find my place in the industry and making music I thought I had to make to get on radio. “I had this epiphany when I was thinking about the music I grew up with,” he continues. “I kind of had a bit of a word with myself and worked out what I want - to be happy and proud of what I’m doing. I love those early singles, but I never really felt proud of them, because it didn’t feel too true to me.” As a child, growing up in Doncaster with his mum Johannah, who raised him alone until she married Tomlinson’s stepfather, he loved performing. “I liked to be the class clown, I liked to make people laugh, to show off, all that.” When his younger twin sisters were cast on TV dramas, he would sometimes go along as their chaperone, earning £30. “Where I’m from, we don’t have anyone who’s been on TV or anything like that, so it was super-exciting,” he says. He ended up picking up work as an extra. “The pinnacle of my acting career was one line on an ITV drama. I don’t even know if they used my scene,” he says with a laugh. When he was 15, he joined a drama group in Barnsley, which his mum would take him to when she could afford it. “I think I was confused, thinking I wanted to act when actually what I wanted to do was perform.” At school he joined a band, where they sang Oasis and Green Day covers, and when The X Factor came up, he made it on to the show in 2010 on his third attempt. He queued from 3am to make sure the producers wouldn’t have audition fatigue before they saw him, and he got his goal - to get in front of Simon Cowell “and just have a professional opinion on how I am as a singer. I was so flustered. Going from school performances to performing in front of professionals, TV cameras, a 3,000-strong audience. I wasn’t present. I sang terribly. I remember coming away from it thinking: ‘I wonder if I’ve got through as one of those lads who looks all right but isn’t really a good singer.’”

One Direction in 2012 (from left): Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne and Harry Styles. Photograph: IBL/Rex Shutterstock Yet he ended up in One Direction, the band the show put together in its 2010 series. For six years they sold tens of millions of records, broke America and each made a rumoured £40m-plus fortune. Their fans, Directioners, are another level of devoted. I don’t know how he coped with the attention, or the pressure. There were really only a few times when it got too much, says Tomlinson. They were in Australia and a local news station had got a helicopter and a photographer was trying to get pictures of Tomlinson in his top-floor hotel room. “I think I was naked, or just in my boxers, and even in my hotel room there was no escape. I could feel the pressure.” He tweeted about it - “your standard bratty celebrity tweet” - and was attacked. “At times it did stress me out but never was I allowed to whinge, allowed to be a human and say: ‘Today has got too much for me.’ I found that difficult at first.” But he is keen not to sound as if he is complaining. “There was much more positive that outweighed that.” And he never blames the fans for their intensity. Theirs is a special relationship, he says. “So many people have bullshitted about what they feel about the fans, but they’re like family to me.” Even when Directioners have got a bit too ardent - there is a conspiracy theory, for example, that he and his bandmate Harry Styles have long been in a secret sexual relationship - he seems more bemused by it than annoyed. Although he is wary, he says, of adding “fuel to the fire” by talking about it. “I know, culturally, it’s interesting, but I’m just a bit tired of it,” he says. The HBO drama Euphoria recently showed an animated sequence of Tomlinson and Styles together, as imagined by a smutty fan-fiction writer. Was it annoying that a show had taken something fairly niche and given it new mainstream life? “Again, I get the cultural intention behind that. But I think …” He trails off, trying to work out what he wants to say. “It just felt a little bit … No, I’m not going to lie, I was pissed off. It annoyed me that a big company would get behind it.” Why does he think he never went off the rails during the band’s heady period? “My mates and my family, really. It’s from my upbringing and where I come from. If I went back to Doncaster and I was dripping in Gucci or whatever, I’d probably get whacked. I’m always very conscious of not acting too big for my boots. It’s the people around me who keep me sane and normal, because they give me insight into real life.” He lives with his girlfriend, Eleanor and his best friend, Oli. “Some celebrities, in pop in particular, only surround themselves with amazingness, and all they see is good, good, good, which is lovely, but you don’t understand the real world then. I have the luxury of my mates around me, just reminding me how fucking good I’ve got it, really.”

With his mother, Johannah, in 2015. Photograph: Dave J Hogan/Getty Images The day of One Direction’s final concert in November 2015, Tomlinson and his bandmate Niall Horan sat together “and had a little cry, because it was such a journey we had been on. That day in general was so poignant. As much as you try and prepare yourself, it’s a whole other thing when it comes.” Because they had worked so much with few days off, he assumed that a break would be exciting. “But it wasn’t like that. When you’re used to working however many days, it’s all that more evident when you’re not doing something. Especially in the first six months.” He spent time in Los Angeles with his son, who was born in 2016, after his relationship with a stylist, Briana Jungwirth. “My life became -and I don’t mean this to sound derogatory - very normal, from being a life of pure craziness.” At the same time that Tomlinson was trying to work out what to do with himself, his mother, to whom he was intensely close, had been diagnosed with leukaemia; she died in December 2016. He performed his first single on The X Factor just a few days after her death, then seemed to half-heartedly continue with his solo career, releasing another single in 2017. It would be another two years - during which he became a judge on The X Factor - before he released Two of Us, a raw and beautiful (and under-rated) song. “After I lost my mum, every song I wrote felt, not pathetic, but that it lacked true meaning to me,” he says. “I felt that, as a songwriter, I wasn’t going to move on until I’d written a song like that.” He knew he needed to get it out of him, but there was a lot of pressure - he felt he should be an experienced songwriter before he attempted it. Two songwriters he worked with played him the chorus. “It was like the song I always wished I’d written. I went in and put my personal touch to the verses. It was a real moment for me in my grief, and as part of the creative process, because it felt like it was hanging over me.” Earlier this month, an inquest found that his sister Félicité had died of an accidental overdose; she had been taking drugs, including anxiety medication, since the death of their mother. He has been through some terrible times, I say, which must put a perspective on a pop career. “Exactly,” he says, a little quieter than before. “That whole dark side I’ve gone through, it sounds stupid to say, but it gives me strength everywhere else in my life, because that’s the darkest shit that I’m going to have to deal with. So it makes everything else, not feel easier and not less important, but, in the grand scheme of things, you see things for what they are, I suppose.” His fans have been crucial, he says. “I’m sure every artist says this, but I do believe it. We’ve been through some dark times together and those things I’ve been through, they carry a weight, emotionally, on the fans as well. And I felt their love and support. I remember really clearly when I lost my mum, that support was mad.” What have the experiences of loss he has been through taught him about himself? He thinks for a second. “I keep going back to it, but I don’t know if it’s a combination of where I grew up and my mum’s influence, but I just have this luxury of being able to see the glass half-full no matter what.” He is the oldest of his mother’s seven children, which is grounding and means, he says, “there’s no time for me to be sat feeling sorry for myself. I’ve been to rock bottom and I feel like, whatever my career’s going to throw in front of me, it’s going to be nothing as big or as emotionally heavy as that. So, weirdly, I’ve turned something that’s really dark into something that empowers me, makes me stronger.” He gets up to go to the toilet, which I think is his polite way of asking me to move on, although when he gets back he says, by way of a final word on the matter, “I don’t want people to feel sorry for me. That’s not how I feel for myself. Somehow it fuels me.”

1D face the fans: the band’s last performance was in 2015. Photograph: Sportsphoto Ltd/Allstar One Direction will get back together one day, he believes. He still speaks to the others. “We’re not texting each other every day, but what we do have, which will never go away, is this real brothership. We’ve had these experiences that no one else can relate to.” Styles has become quite the superstar. The others seem to have steady solo careers. Tomlinson says he’s embarrassed to admit that, when he first went solo, he would have been devastated had his album “only” reached No 3, so used is he to everything he did with One Direction going to the top. Is it hard not to measure himself against his former bandmates? “Oh, naturally,” he says. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. I’ve never been competitive like that, but, naturally, you think: ‘If they’re getting this then I deserve that.’ I think, the longer time goes on, I can see it for what it is and just be proud of them.” And success means something else to him now. “It means I’m happy with what I’m doing.” Kill My Mind, by Louis Tomlinson, is out now on Arista. His debut album will be released in 2020

[brrahbrrahcharacterimagines]

My Hero (Podrick Payne x Reader)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Podrick Payne x Reader

Word Count: 2285

Warnings: Some guys being assholes, oops and cursing/swearing. But yea the guys are creepy

“You’re welcome, Lady Katherine,” you say as she thanks you for the strawberry tart. The elderly woman took a bite, savoring the flavor in her mouth.

“Every day you seem to get only better,” she said after swallowing, making you smile. 

You were a baker in King’s Landing, and a damn good one too. You worked in a small bakery with a group of other ladies. All of you were close, especially since you were running a business together. It was almost unheard of for a woman to lead a business this way. However, after your eldest partner’s, Roslin’s, husband died, she was left sole heir and she could do what she wanted with the money. She purchased this property, electing not to remarry and instead make a living for herself. You admired her, and perhaps that is what inspired you to start working there in the first place.

You had to admit that you were not the best baker at first. In fact, you seemed to burn every dish you put in the oven. If one came out miraculously unharmed, it had been ruined in some other way. Once you had switched the salt and the sugar, leading to some very bad cookies.

Now, you were one of the best pastry chefs in town. You were proud of that. It was something you had done for yourself. You had been taken under the wing of the other ladies, but you flew from the nest a strong baker. 

You excused yourself, making your way back to the kitchen.

“Y/N, did you see the pair sat by the far window?” You heard Aleida whisper giddily, giggling with the rest of the girls.

“No,” you responded. You couldn’t help but smile back at them. “Why?”

“There sits the tallest woman we have ever seen,” replied Aleida. You peeked around the corner, seeing that they were right. A figure was sitting at the table by the window with short blonde hair. She may have been wearing a suit of armor, but there was no doubt in your mind that she was a woman. She sure was impressive, but it didn’t warrant the reaction the rest of the girls had. You looked back to them for answers.

“And?”

“The most gorgeous man we’ve ever seen.”

You looked back out towards the table, seeing a man seated across from the tall woman. You didn’t know how you hadn’t noticed him when you had looked before. You presumed that it was because you were focused on the woman, but now that you saw him you all but forgot everything else. You heard Roslin’s voice, bringing you back to reality.

“What?” You asked, not having heard her from your daze.

“I said,” she repeated with a knowing smirk. “I’m assigning you to her table.” Your jaw fell open in shock.

“No, I couldn’t,” you rebutted. You knew that you would make a fool of yourself if you came within a five-foot radius of the man.

“You can, and you will,” she retorted. You loved her stubbornness, but you had to admit you loved it less when you were on the receiving end. “Moreover,” she continued, “you’re the only one of us who is without a man who has the desire to have one.”

Your face flushed, knowing she was right. The other ladies already had husbands, or were at least courting men. The ladies that weren’t seeing them had no desire to, at least at the moment. You had told them on many occasions how you longed for somebody in your life to fill this position, and now those drunken confessions came back to bite you in the butt.

“Please Y/N,” said Aleida. “You have to go talk to him, he’s too attractive not to.”

You walked over to the table, knowing that there would be no arguing. Even if you tried, it wouldn’t have gotten you anywhere with any of the other women.

“What can I get the two of you today?” You asked, doing fine until you looked into his dark eyes. They were the color of chocolate. You could get lost in his eyes, and you almost did. You would have if the woman didn’t clear her throat, turning your attention to her. You blushed.

“I’ll have a slice of blueberry cobbler,” she said with a knowing look at you. You had only said one sentence and yet this stranger knew how you felt about her traveling companion.

“And you?” You asked, turning back to the young man. He had a dopey grin on your face that made you want to grab his face in your hands so you could kiss him. You quickly pushed the thought from your mind. “What would you like?”

“You,” he said. You froze.

“Excuse me?” 

Instantly he face went red, the color trailing down his neck. The woman tried to stifle a laugh, but it was obvious as she let out a chuckle here and there. You were mortified. You hadn’t expected that response from him, and although you liked him you were unsure how you felt about his words.

“I-I mean,” he stuttered. He was obviously embarrassed. “I meant to say whatever you would choose. I guess only one of my words came out.”

That explanation was enough to ease your mind.

“Well,” you said, “my favorite has always been (dessert).” The dopey smile returned to his face.

“I love that.”

You blushed, choosing to focus on the woman again to avoid any further embarrassment.

“If you don’t mind me asking, my lady, what is your name? Me and the other ladies couldn’t help but admire your height. You look like a fighter, not common for many ladies even though we here like to think of ourselves as such.”

The woman smiled; you realized that she must not get genuine admiration like that often.

“Brienne of Tarth,” she revealed, “and this is my squire Podrick Payne.”

Podrick, you repeated in your head. It was a lovely name.

“It was lovely to meet the two of you, Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne” you replied with a small nod to each. “I’ll go get those sweets for you.” As you walked off you had no idea how a blush had formed on Podrick’s face after he heard his own name fall from your lips. You also had no idea that Brienne had smirked at him, only making his blush worsen.

You brought them their desserts, keeping the conversation minimal. You longed to hear the man’s voice again, but you knew how people who came through here were. They were travelers, only staying for a day or two. People generally only came by your bakery once, so it surprised you when you saw the pair sitting in the same place the next day.

“Good morning,” you greeted the pair with a sweet smile. “Would you like the same thing today, or would you like to try something else?”

“Nothing for me,” replied Brienne. Her response was odd to you, but you decided not to say anything. 

“And you, Pod?” The nickname made him falter. He wanted to hear you say it again.

“Uh, the same thing for me. It was rather delicious yesterday.” In his head he was beating himself up over how stupid he sounded. Why must he sound so awkward when talking to you?

“Why thank you Pod, I made it myself.” You blushed at his compliment, and he blushed when you said his name again.

You hurried back to the kitchen to grab his food when the other ladies began squealing.

“Y/N, he’s back!” They exclaimed.

“Yes, I am well aware.” You stated. “I just took their orders, or rather order. Brienne didn’t want anything.”

The other girls seemed to be egged on by your statement.

“That means that he must have been the one that chose to come here!”

Your face flushed at their comments.

“Even if that were the case, I’m sure it is just for the food. We do make a delicious (dessert).”

“I bet he thinks you’re delicious,” said Aleida. You almost burned yourself on the hot oven trying to whip around so you could swat at her.

“Girls, be careful,” scolded Roslin. “Aleida, get back to work. And Y/N, get back to that boy.” She shoved the dessert plate into your hands, pushing you towards the door so you could enter the dining area again.

“Stop shoving me, I’m going!” You responded playfully. You were actually excited to see him again despite it only being minutes.

You delivered the dessert, lingering as you drank in the vision sitting in front of you. He looked at you as well, and it you didn’t know better you would have said that he was checking you out. The pair of them left soon after, leaving you to deal with teasing comments from your friends for the rest of the day.

When you didn’t see Pod the next morning, you assumed he had left town. You had to admit that you were sad, but it was expected. As you said, people don’t stay long or make too many visits. However, you caught a familiar tuft of brown hair as the lunch rush ended.

“Pod?” You called out, seeing his face pop up from the crowd.

“Y/N,” he replied with that same dopey grin you had grown to love on his features. You made your way across the room to him, restraining yourself from running your hands through his hair and wrapping your arms around him. The voice in the back of your head whispered to you that he wouldn’t mind it, but you silenced it.

You sat beside Podrick, listening as he told you stories of horses and sword fights. His experiences made him all the more attractive to you. He had seen the world, and he had fought around it. You liked hearing about this more masculine side of him, as much as you still loved the awkward Pod you had first met.

Your little chats became routine. He would stop by at least once a day, ordering some form of dessert before he left. Then one day, he didn’t ask for dessert. The longer you knew him the cockier he got, making you realize that he might not be as shy as he had seemed initially. You had offered him any type of food that he wanted, but he had declined.

“Then why are you here?” You asked, puzzled.

“That’s for you to figure out,” he said with a wink as he exited. A mere wink left you breathless. You were still as taken with him as you had been the first day you saw him.

One day you were searching for Pod in the crowd when you felt somebody grab hold of your skirts.

“Bar wench, get me some ale why don’t you?” Said the greasy older man who had a tight grip on your skirts. You moved to get him what he wanted, eager to just move away from him.

“On second thought,” said the man next to him. The second man grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to him. “You’ve got a pretty face, girl.”

You felt fear flash through your body, igniting every instinct in you that told you to run.

“Let me go,” you said, trying to pull away from the group that had obviously already had enough ale.

“No, I don’t think I will.” He said, trying to pull you closer as you held your ground. “I bet you taste just as sweet as all the things you make here, don’t you?” You flushed, angry and embarrassed. “How much for a taste?” The man leaned toward you and you nearly screamed. You would have if you hadn’t heard a male’s voice.

“You take your filthy hands off her!” Yelled a man, making you look up.

“Pod?” You asked as the men released you. Podrick could be commanding when he wanted to, and he looked positively angry at the moment. If he hadn’t been protecting you, you might have even said he looked scary.

“Get out.” He growled, making the men jump up. “If you ever come back,” he yelled, “and try to lay a hand on my lady again, I’ll kill you!”

You rushed towards Podrick, burying your face in his chest as tears began to fall. Now that the ordeal was over you realized what a horrible situation you had been in. It could have ended much differently if he had not come along when he did. You felt Pod’s arms wrap around you, holding you tightly to him. His chin rested on the top of your head. 

“It’s okay Y/N, I’ve got you now.”

His voice soothed you, making you feel more comfortable almost immediately. After you calmed down, something in you made you repeat what he said over and over in your head.

“Pod, did you call me your lady?”

All of his commanding bravado faded away as a blush crept onto his face.

“Well, uh, yes. I presume that I did say that.”

“Did you mean it?” You asked quietly. You looked up at Pod, searching his eyes.

“That depends,” he replied. “Did you want me to?” You looked away, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“Yes,” you murmured.

“Then yes, Y/N. I meant it. You are my lady. I will always protect you.” Podrick pressed his lips to yours briefly, but it was enough to send an shock through your bones.

“You’re my hero,” you told him. His dopey grin made its way back onto his face and you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“And you’re my princess.”

@adlerorzel-blog

[novelwritingtrash]

When Harry Styles played the O2 Arena in 2018, his fans illuminated the cavernous venue in the colours of the LGBTQ Pride flag. Coordinated by a social media account called The Rainbow Project, each seating block was allocated a different colour, so that when Styles played the song Sweet Creature, an enormous rainbow emerged from the crowd. I was there, and it was pretty magical. But it was also emblematic of how Styles’s fanbase views their idol: as a queer icon. 

There’s arguably never been a better time to be an LGBTQ pop star. Acts such as Sam Smith, who came out as non-binary earlier this year, Lil Nas X, the first gay man to have a certified diamond song in America, Halsey, queer boyband Brockhampton, pansexual singer Miley Cyrus and Kim Petras, who is transgender, have all enjoyed an incredible year, bagging the biggest hits of 2019.

Still, when Styles shared Lights Up, the lead single from his forthcoming second solo album Fine Line, there was a collective intake of breath. The song and video - in which he appears shirtless in what looks like a sweaty orgy as both men and women grab at him - was heralded as a “bisexual anthem” by the media and fans on Twitter, despite not really making any explicit or obvious statements about sexuality or the LGBTQ community. Instead, Lights Up was just another example of the queer mythologising that occurs around Harry Styles.

As a member of One Direction, Styles was – aside from Zayn Malik – the group’s most charismatic and enticing member. From his first audition on The X Factor to the band’s disbandment in 2015, the teenager from Cheshire managed to elevate himself and his celebrity swiftly rose to the A list. Helping him along was speculation about his private life: during his tenure in the band he was romantically linked to everyone from Taylor Swift to Kendall Jenner.

But there were two other rumoured relationships that dogged Styles more than the others. The first was his close friendship with radio DJ Nick Grimshaw. Styles and Grimshaw were often photographed together, and there were anodyne showbiz reports about how they even shared a wardrobe. 

Inevitably, rumours suggested they were romantically linked. In fact, so prolific was speculation that during an interview with British GQ, Styles was asked point blank if he was in a relationship with Grimshaw (he denied any romantic relationship) and, in a move that upset many One Direction fans, if he was bisexual. “Bisexual? Me?” he responded.  “I don't think so. I'm pretty sure I'm not.”

The second, and perhaps most complicated of rumours, was that he and fellow bandmate Louis Tomlinson were in a relationship. Larry Stylinson, as their shipname is known, began life as fan-fiction but mutated into a wild conspiracy theory as certain fans – dubbed Larries – documented glances, gestures, touches, interviews, performances and outfits in an attempt to confirm the romance. Even now, four years after the band went on “hiatus”, videos are still being posted on YouTube in an attempt to confirm that their relationship was real.

For Tomlinson, Larry was fandom gone too far. He has repeatedly rejected the conspiracy. Styles, meanwhile, has never publicly discussed it. In fact, unlike Tomlinson, whose post-1D career trajectory has seen him adopt a loutish form of masculinity indebted to the Gallagher brothers, Styles has largely leant into the speculation surrounding his sexuality. Aside from the GQ interview, Styles has told interviewers that gender is not that important to him when it comes to dating. In 2017 he said that he had never felt the need to label his sexuality, adding: “I don’t feel like it’s something I’ve ever felt like I have to explain about myself.”

Likewise, during his time touring with One Direction, and during his own solo tours, the image of Styles draped with a rainbow flag became ubiquitous. He has also donated money from merchandise sales to LGBTQ charities. His fashion sense, too, subverts gender norms: Styles has long sported womenswear, floral prints, dangly earrings and painted nails. 

Nevertheless, Styles’s hesitance to be candid has met with criticism. He has been accused of queer-baiting - or enjoying the benefits of appealing to an LGBTQ fanbase without having any of the difficulties. I’ve written before about how queer artists, who now enjoy greater visibility and are finding mainstream success, have struggled commercially owing to their sexuality or gender identity. 

Styles, who is assumed to be a cisgender, heterosexual male, doesn’t carry any of the commercial risk laden upon Troye Sivan, Years and Years or MNEK, who all use same-gender pronouns in their music and are explicitly gay in their videos. His music – with its nods to rock’n’roll, Americana and folk ­– doesn’t feel very queer, either. Looking at it this way, the queer idolisation of Harry Styles doesn’t feel deserved.

“The thing with Harry Styles is that he often does the bare minimum and gets an out-sized load of credit for it,” says songwriter and record label manager Grace Medford. For Medford, who has worked at Syco and is now part of the team at Xenomania records, Styles’s queer narrative has been projected on him by the media and his fans. “I don't think that he queer-baits, but I don't think he does anywhere near enough to get the response that he does.”

Of course, Styles does not need to explain or be specific about his sexuality. As Medford puts it: “he's well within his rights to live his life how he chooses.” However, he has also created a space for himself in pop that allows him that ambiguity.

It’s a privilege few pop stars have. Last year, Rita Ora was hit with criticism after her song Girls, a collaboration with Charli XCX, Cardi B and Bebe Rexha, was dubbed problematic and accused of performative bisexuality. Even though Ora explicitly sang the lyric “I'm 50-50 and I'm never gonna hide it”, she was lambasted by social media critics, media commentary and even her fellow artists until she was forced to publicly confirm her bisexuality.

But the same was not done to Styles when he performed unreleased song “Medicine” during his world tour. The lyrics have never been confirmed, but the song is said to contain the line: “The boys and the girls are in/ I mess around with him/ And I'm okay with it.” Instead of probing him for clarity or accusing him of performativity, the song was labelled a “bisexual anthem” and praised as “a breakthrough for bisexual music fans”.

Of course, there’s misogyny inherent to such reactions. But there’s also something more layered and complex at play, too. “There's such a dearth of queer people to look up to, especially people at Harry’s level,” posits Medford. “With somebody who is seen as cool and credible and attractive as Harry, part of it is wishful thinking, I think. 

“The fact is, he was put together into a boyband on a television show by a Pussycat Doll. And he has rebranded as Mick Jagger’s spiritual successor and sings with Stevie Nicks; he's really done the work there. Part of him doing that work is him stepping back and letting other people create a story for him.”

One only has to look at how Styles’ celebrity manifests itself (cool, fashionable, artistic) in comparison to that of his former bandmates. Liam Payne (this week dubbed by the tabloids as a chart failure) has been a tabloid fixture since his public relationship with Cheryl Cole and relies on countless interviews, photoshoots and even an advertising campaign for Hugo Boss to maintain his fame. 

Styles, meanwhile, doesn’t really engage with social media. He also rarely appears in public and carefully chooses what kind of press he does, actively limiting the number of interviews he gives. Styles’s reticence to engage with the media and general public – perhaps a form of self-preservation – has awarded him a rare mystique that few people in the public eye possess. 

This enigmatic personal, along with his sexual ambiguity, his support of LGBTQ charities and his gender-fluid approach to fashion, creates the perfect incubation for queer fandom. It also provides a shield against serious accusations of queer-baiting. As Medford argues: “Harry's queer mythology has been presented to and bestowed upon him by queer people whereas other acts feel like they have to actively seek that out.”

Ultimately, the way that Styles navigates his queer fandom doesn’t feel calculated or contrived. For Eli, an 18-year-old from Orlando who grew up with One Direction, seeing Styles “grow into himself” has been important. He suggests that Styles’ queer accessibility has helped to create a safe space for fans. “Watching him on tour dance on stage every night in his frilly outfits, singing about liking boys and girls, waving around pride flags, and even helping a fan come out to her mom, really helped me come to terms with my own sexuality,” he explains.

Vicky, who is 25 and from London, agrees: “To be able to attend his show with my pansexual flag and wave it around and feel so much love and respect - it's an amazing feeling. I'm aware so many queer people can't experience it so I'm very grateful Harry creates these safe spaces through his music and concerts.”

There’s appeal in Styles’s ambiguity, too. Summer Shaud, from Boston, says that Styles’ “giving no f----” approach to sexuality and gender is “inspiring and affirming” for those people who are coming to terms with their own identities or those who live in the middle of sexuality or gender spectrums. “There’s enormous pressure from certain gatekeeping voices within the queer community to perform queerness in an approved, unambiguous way, often coming from people with no substantive understanding of bisexuality or genderfluidity who are still looking to put everyone into a box,” she argues. “Harry’s gender presentation, queer-coding, and refusal to label himself are a defiant rebuke of that “You’re Not Doing It Right” attitude, and that resonates so strongly with queers who aren’t exclusively homosexual or exclusively binary.”

Shaud says that the queer community that has congregated around Styles is another reason she’s so drawn to him. “Seeing how his last tour was such an incredible site of affirmation and belonging for queers is deeply moving to me, and as older queer [Shaud is 41] I’m so grateful that all the young people growing up together with Harry have someone like him to provide that.” 

In fact, she argues that there’s a symbiotic relationship between Styles and his queer fans. She cites an interview he gave to Rolling Stone this year in which he said how transformative the tour was for him. “For me the tour was the biggest thing in terms of being more accepting of myself, I think,” Styles shared. “I kept thinking, 'Oh wow, they really want me to be myself. And be out and do it.’”

All of the queer Harry Styles fans I spoke to agreed that it really didn’t matter whether their idol was explicit about his sexuality or not. “It’s weird that people scrutinise people who don’t label [their sexuality] when they have no idea what that person feels like inside or, in Harry’s case, what it’s like to be under the public eye,” argues Valerie, who is 18. “It's an individual choice, not ours,” agrees Vicky.

Ollie, 22 and from Brighton, takes a more rounded view, however: “On one hand, I think that quite simply it isn’t any of anyone else’s business. On the other, if you place yourself in the public eye to the level of fame that he has then you should be prepared to be probed about every minute detail of your personal life, whether you like it or not – you should at least be prepared to be questioned about it.” Still, he says that the good that Styles does is what’s important: “He brings fantastic support and attention to the community, whether he is actively a part of it or not.”

Arguably, the ambiguity and mystery that surrounds Styles only allows more space for queer people to find safety in him and in the fandom.

Still, if fans are expecting a queer coming of age with new album Fine Line, they will be disappointed. Lyrically, he doesn’t venture into new territory, although there are some new musical flares. He also seems like he’s started to distance himself a little from the ambiguity, too. “I’m aware that as a white male, I don’t go through the same things as a lot of the people that come to the shows,” he told Rolling Stone. “I can’t claim that I know what it’s like, because I don’t. So I’m not trying to say, ‘I understand what it’s like.’ I’m just trying to make people feel included and seen.” Having said that, within weeks Styles appeared on Saturday Night Live playing a gay social media manager, using queer slang and even wearing an S&M harness.

And so the cycle of queer mythologising continues, and is likely to continue for the rest of Styles’s career. And maybe things will change and maybe they won’t.

“If you are black, if you are white, if you are gay, if you are straight, if you are transgender — whoever you are, whoever you want to be, I support you,” he said earlier this year. “I love every single one of you.” In a world where LGBTQ rights are threatened and there’s socio-political insecurity, perhaps, for now at least, that’s enough.

[accidentalharrie]

maybe you or one of you followers has access to the telegraph article about Harry "Why does the world want Harry Styles to be gay" I don't know what to think about this headline and I really want to read it but its online only for subscribers

Here you go, Nons. (I hesitate to post this but…)

When Harry Styles played the O2 Arena in 2018, his fans illuminated the cavernous venue in the colours of the LGBTQ Pride flag. Coordinated by a social media account called The Rainbow Project, each seating block was allocated a different colour, so that when Styles played the song Sweet Creature, an enormous rainbow emerged from the crowd. I was there, and it was pretty magical. But it was also emblematic of how Styles’s fanbase views their idol: as a queer icon.

There’s arguably never been a better time to be an LGBTQ pop star. Acts such as Sam Smith, who came out as non-binary earlier this year, Lil Nas X, the first gay man to have a certified diamond song in America, Halsey, queer boyband Brockhampton, pansexual singer Miley Cyrus and Kim Petras, who is transgender, have all enjoyed an incredible year, bagging the biggest hits of 2019.

Still, when Styles shared Lights Up, the lead single from his forthcoming second solo album Fine Line, there was a collective intake of breath. The song and video - in which he appears shirtless in what looks like a sweaty orgy as both men and women grab at him - was heralded as a “bisexual anthem” by the media and fans on Twitter, despite not really making any explicit or obvious statements about sexuality or the LGBTQ community. Instead, Lights Up was just another example of the queer mythologising that occurs around Harry Styles.

As a member of One Direction, Styles was – aside from Zayn Malik – the group’s most charismatic and enticing member. From his first audition on The X Factor to the band’s disbandment in 2015, the teenager from Cheshire managed to elevate himself and his celebrity swiftly rose to the A list. Helping him along was speculation about his private life: during his tenure in the band he was romantically linked to everyone from Taylor Swift to Kendall Jenner.

But there were two other rumoured relationships that dogged Styles more than the others. The first was his close friendship with radio DJ Nick Grimshaw. Styles and Grimshaw were often photographed together, and there were anodyne showbiz reports about how they even shared a wardrobe.

Inevitably, rumours suggested they were romantically linked. In fact, so prolific was speculation that during an interview with British GQ, Styles was asked point blank if he was in a relationship with Grimshaw (he denied any romantic relationship) and, in a move that upset many One Direction fans, if he was bisexual. “Bisexual? Me?” he responded.  “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I’m not.”

The second, and perhaps most complicated of rumours, was that he and fellow bandmate Louis Tomlinson were in a relationship. Larry Stylinson, as their shipname is known, began life as fan-fiction but mutated into a wild conspiracy theory as certain fans – dubbed Larries – documented glances, gestures, touches, interviews, performances and outfits in an attempt to confirm the romance. Even now, four years after the band went on “hiatus”, videos are still being posted on YouTube in an attempt to confirm that their relationship was real.

For Tomlinson, Larry was fandom gone too far. He has repeatedly rejected the conspiracy. Styles, meanwhile, has never publicly discussed it. In fact, unlike Tomlinson, whose post-1D career trajectory has seen him adopt a loutish form of masculinity indebted to the Gallagher brothers, Styles has largely leant into the speculation surrounding his sexuality. Aside from the GQ interview, Styles has told interviewers that gender is not that important to him when it comes to dating. In 2017 he said that he had never felt the need to label his sexuality, adding: “I don’t feel like it’s something I’ve ever felt like I have to explain about myself.”

Likewise, during his time touring with One Direction, and during his own solo tours, the image of Styles draped with a rainbow flag became ubiquitous. He has also donated money from merchandise sales to LGBTQ charities. His fashion sense, too, subverts gender norms: Styles has long sported womenswear, floral prints, dangly earrings and painted nails.

Nevertheless, Styles’s hesitance to be candid has met with criticism. He has been accused of queer-baiting - or enjoying the benefits of appealing to an LGBTQ fanbase without having any of the difficulties. I’ve written before about how queer artists, who now enjoy greater visibility and are finding mainstream success, have struggled commercially owing to their sexuality or gender identity.

Styles, who is assumed to be a cisgender, heterosexual male, doesn’t carry any of the commercial risk laden upon Troye Sivan, Years and Years or MNEK, who all use same-gender pronouns in their music and are explicitly gay in their videos. His music – with its nods to rock’n’roll, Americana and folk ­– doesn’t feel very queer, either. Looking at it this way, the queer idolisation of Harry Styles doesn’t feel deserved.

“The thing with Harry Styles is that he often does the bare minimum and gets an out-sized load of credit for it,” says songwriter and record label manager Grace Medford. For Medford, who has worked at Syco and is now part of the team at Xenomania records, Styles’s queer narrative has been projected on him by the media and his fans. “I don’t think that he queer-baits, but I don’t think he does anywhere near enough to get the response that he does.”

Of course, Styles does not need to explain or be specific about his sexuality. As Medford puts it: “he’s well within his rights to live his life how he chooses.” However, he has also created a space for himself in pop that allows him that ambiguity.

It’s a privilege few pop stars have. Last year, Rita Ora was hit with criticism after her song Girls, a collaboration with Charli XCX, Cardi B and Bebe Rexha, was dubbed problematic and accused of performative bisexuality. Even though Ora explicitly sang the lyric “I’m 50-50 and I’m never gonna hide it”, she was lambasted by social media critics, media commentary and even her fellow artists until she was forced to publicly confirm her bisexuality.

But the same was not done to Styles when he performed unreleased song “Medicine” during his world tour. The lyrics have never been confirmed, but the song is said to contain the line: “The boys and the girls are in/ I mess around with him/ And I’m okay with it.” Instead of probing him for clarity or accusing him of performativity, the song was labelled a “bisexual anthem” and praised as “a breakthrough for bisexual music fans”.

Of course, there’s misogyny inherent to such reactions. But there’s also something more layered and complex at play, too. “There’s such a dearth of queer people to look up to, especially people at Harry’s level,” posits Medford. “With somebody who is seen as cool and credible and attractive as Harry, part of it is wishful thinking, I think.

“The fact is, he was put together into a boyband on a television show by a Pussycat Doll. And he has rebranded as Mick Jagger’s spiritual successor and sings with Stevie Nicks; he’s really done the work there. Part of him doing that work is him stepping back and letting other people create a story for him.”

One only has to look at how Styles’ celebrity manifests itself (cool, fashionable, artistic) in comparison to that of his former bandmates. Liam Payne (this week dubbed by the tabloids as a chart failure) has been a tabloid fixture since his public relationship with Cheryl Cole and relies on countless interviews, photoshoots and even an advertising campaign for Hugo Boss to maintain his fame.

Styles, meanwhile, doesn’t really engage with social media. He also rarely appears in public and carefully chooses what kind of press he does, actively limiting the number of interviews he gives. Styles’s reticence to engage with the media and general public – perhaps a form of self-preservation – has awarded him a rare mystique that few people in the public eye possess.

This enigmatic personal, along with his sexual ambiguity, his support of LGBTQ charities and his gender-fluid approach to fashion, creates the perfect incubation for queer fandom. It also provides a shield against serious accusations of queer-baiting. As Medford argues: “Harry’s queer mythology has been presented to and bestowed upon him by queer people whereas other acts feel like they have to actively seek that out.”

Ultimately, the way that Styles navigates his queer fandom doesn’t feel calculated or contrived. For Eli, an 18-year-old from Orlando who grew up with One Direction, seeing Styles “grow into himself” has been important. He suggests that Styles’ queer accessibility has helped to create a safe space for fans. “Watching him on tour dance on stage every night in his frilly outfits, singing about liking boys and girls, waving around pride flags, and even helping a fan come out to her mom, really helped me come to terms with my own sexuality,” he explains.

Vicky, who is 25 and from London, agrees: “To be able to attend his show with my pansexual flag and wave it around and feel so much love and respect - it’s an amazing feeling. I’m aware so many queer people can’t experience it so I’m very grateful Harry creates these safe spaces through his music and concerts.”

There’s appeal in Styles’s ambiguity, too. Summer Shaud, from Boston, says that Styles’ “giving no f—-” approach to sexuality and gender is “inspiring and affirming” for those people who are coming to terms with their own identities or those who live in the middle of sexuality or gender spectrums. “There’s enormous pressure from certain gatekeeping voices within the queer community to perform queerness in an approved, unambiguous way, often coming from people with no substantive understanding of bisexuality or genderfluidity who are still looking to put everyone into a box,” she argues. “Harry’s gender presentation, queer-coding, and refusal to label himself are a defiant rebuke of that “You’re Not Doing It Right” attitude, and that resonates so strongly with queers who aren’t exclusively homosexual or exclusively binary.”

Shaud says that the queer community that has congregated around Styles is another reason she’s so drawn to him. “Seeing how his last tour was such an incredible site of affirmation and belonging for queers is deeply moving to me, and as older queer [Shaud is 41] I’m so grateful that all the young people growing up together with Harry have someone like him to provide that.”

In fact, she argues that there’s a symbiotic relationship between Styles and his queer fans. She cites an interview he gave to Rolling Stone this year in which he said how transformative the tour was for him. “For me the tour was the biggest thing in terms of being more accepting of myself, I think,” Styles shared. “I kept thinking, ‘Oh wow, they really want me to be myself. And be out and do it.’”

All of the queer Harry Styles fans I spoke to agreed that it really didn’t matter whether their idol was explicit about his sexuality or not. “It’s weird that people scrutinise people who don’t label [their sexuality] when they have no idea what that person feels like inside or, in Harry’s case, what it’s like to be under the public eye,” argues Valerie, who is 18. “It’s an individual choice, not ours,” agrees Vicky.

Ollie, 22 and from Brighton, takes a more rounded view, however: “On one hand, I think that quite simply it isn’t any of anyone else’s business. On the other, if you place yourself in the public eye to the level of fame that he has then you should be prepared to be probed about every minute detail of your personal life, whether you like it or not – you should at least be prepared to be questioned about it.” Still, he says that the good that Styles does is what’s important: “He brings fantastic support and attention to the community, whether he is actively a part of it or not.”

Arguably, the ambiguity and mystery that surrounds Styles only allows more space for queer people to find safety in him and in the fandom.

Still, if fans are expecting a queer coming of age with new album Fine Line, they will be disappointed. Lyrically, he doesn’t venture into new territory, although there are some new musical flares. He also seems like he’s started to distance himself a little from the ambiguity, too. “I’m aware that as a white male, I don’t go through the same things as a lot of the people that come to the shows,” he told Rolling Stone. “I can’t claim that I know what it’s like, because I don’t. So I’m not trying to say, ‘I understand what it’s like.’ I’m just trying to make people feel included and seen.” Having said that, within weeks Styles appeared on Saturday Night Live playing a gay social media manager, using queer slang and even wearing an S&M harness.

And so the cycle of queer mythologising continues, and is likely to continue for the rest of Styles’s career. And maybe things will change and maybe they won’t.

“If you are black, if you are white, if you are gay, if you are straight, if you are transgender — whoever you are, whoever you want to be, I support you,” he said earlier this year. “I love every single one of you.” In a world where LGBTQ rights are threatened and there’s socio-political insecurity, perhaps, for now at least, that’s enough.

[ziamfanfiction]

this week’s ziam ao3 feed

i’ll try to keep it going this time lol sunday updates as before! remember to leave kudos and comments

fics posted/updated from jan 1st to the 13th

It's Next Year by JoMouse

After surprising their families and friends with a wedding, Zayn and Liam return to the Isle of Wight for their annual New Year's Eve celebration. They meet a new friend on the way.

New Year's Eve by endoftheziam (wip)

"Are we breaking up?"

Those heart-wrenching words begin a phone call between Liam and Zayn, where it seems like everything's falling apart. It's the end of the year, and Liam and Zayn have been together since July. Even after everything they've been through, can they make it to the New Year? Can they figure out how it fell apart, in order to put it back together?

Is this really the end?

Prison Novel by ziamfalsete1D (wip)

Living in prison is not easy and Zayn knows it. After a complaint, he ended up in the place where all the criminals fled, just as the devil flees from the Christ. But his luck was not so generous.   Now he's going to have to face the prisoner's life and deal with his companions without causing confusion and get in more trouble. But everything gets complicated when he meets Liam Payne and he decides to make Malik's life even bigger hell.     The two do not get along and Malik wants distance. But just as his arrest was something he could not prevent, other things can happen as well. He just did not expect it to happen to him. When one does not want, they do not fight but when two fight it is because they want to. They just need to figure it out before it's too late.

Princess (Ziam) (BoyxBoy) by British_1D_Irish (wip)

Zayn has tormented Liam throughout all of highschool. Liam is openly gay, which is what Zayn mainly touches on. His favorite way to tease and bully Liam is by calling him "Princess", but when another bully dares to mess with Liam and Zayn begins to learn more about the boy he teases, the mocking word becomes a loving one.

"You're my Princess, Liam"

Love the Way You Lie by goldensouls (wip)

Zayn is a strong-willed omega with the town's alpha gang leader after his heart. Oh, and did he mention he's a stripper?

Flowers Growing, Just to Bloom by Ziam_Mayne (wip)

Prompt: It’s Liam’s birthday and Zayn has a special surprise planned for him.

Morning by Claudii85

Zayn's eyes flutter open when he feels Liam's beard tickling the sensitive skin of his neck. The bedroom bathes in a soft glow, the sun starting to rise over New York, it must be early but he's too tired to look on his phone. He closes his eyes again and he feels Liam nuzzling him under his ear, followed by an open mouth kiss. A small sigh escape his lips and and he moves his head to the side to give more room to Liam.

Sweets For My Sweet by KikoRush96 (wip)

One Wednesday, Liam receives a strange unmarked package from a sweet mail lady. He's alarmed by it, though eventually his friend Harry takes the risk and opens it to reveal Liam's favorite treat.

Zayn is the owner of the little bakery across from Liam's office building who may or may not have a crush on the man with big brown eyes who comes to the shop pretty often.

It's Cold Without You. by iwasnthere

Forget Me Not by loveandbeloved

Liam and Zayn are best friends who act like a married couple but in actuality aren't even dating. One day, Zayn gets into an accident and wakes up in the hospital with amnesia, but when Liam tries to explain their life to him, Zayn assumes they are dating. Things escalate until Liam has to decide to tell Zayn the truth or pray that his memory never comes back.

Or: an amnesia fic that's way less angsty than most.

Farm Days by StoryAnonGuy33

"I said watch out, Liam I called your name like five times" He stated regaining his breath. Liam was confused, was it horse poop? Looking down, Liam saw a cluster of flowers growing out of the dirt. "You need to watch where you're going" Zayn stated lightly as he went back to his work, leaving Liam a little dumbfounded. "Great, he's good with animals and loves nature" Liam mused

Or where Liam spends another summer at his Aunt and Uncles farm. Hoping that Zayn, the new farmhand, would notice him in a different light.

The New Teacher by mmaree (wip)

Being a novice teacher is tough, but being a novice teacher at Payne Academy is even tougher. Fortunately for Zayn, the other teachers on the staff seem friendly enough…at first.

***

Or the one where Zayn’s dream job slowly turns into his worst nightmare. And his worst nightmare may or may not be named Dr. Payne.

Champagne, Cocaine, Gasoline. by SpookyFaces (wip)

Liam should have known it was a bad idea to live in the same house with four other people.

It's not that he doesn't love his boys. He definitely loves fishing out Harry's wild curls from his food, or sharing the bathroom with the drama-queen named Louis fucking Tomlinson. He loves how Niall brings home tons of different girls every night, forgetting to send them home in the mornings, so Liam has to apologize for him and lead them out of the house. And of course - he adores Zayn Malik. A drug-addict with unbelievably long eyelashes and unhealthy obsession with weird art.

Oh, and there are three dogs that Harry dragged home from the streets. And a cat Zayn stole from the shelter.

Yeah, that's it, so far. They live in one house. They try not to kill each-other. Most of the times they fail. Good thing they've got a big basement to hide a body, just in case.

Good Form by projectanonymous (wip, mcd warning)

Zayn isn't part of the night life. He's the stay at home and watch movies type, order pizza, etc. That's his take of having a good time. He really isn't into the dramatics of what he sees on Telly. Ariana and Louis on the other hand are all about it.

After convincing Zayn to go to well-known nightclub in London to celebrate him getting a new job at Playtest Technologies, Louis and Ariana introduce him to exactly what he despises. What happens next will all be in good form...

The Way You Fell On My Feet (oh darling, I fell for you) by allthelovetohlnlz, anchormeetsrope

Tensions were running high among his parents, the constant fighting and shouting had gotten too much. Hence, Zayn decided to have a timeout. Therefore, he called up his best mate, Louis, knowing he would always be welcome here. However, he knew that Louis didn’t live alone as he has been in a relationship since he was 18. Hence, why he felt a bit awkward about staying over at Louis’ but Louis had ensured him that Harry was perfectly fine with it. As Harry had welcomed him, Zayn knew that there was no problem. However, what he didn’t know was that he was here for a reason which was going to have a huge impact on his life.

[jonsafan-blog]

The Survivors of Past Wars: Part 1

I decided to explore the different stories of all the major characters that have made it to the end of the second episode of the last season. That way, we can better understand and appreciate the narrative and consider what their futures might be.

Beric Dondarrion

The Lord of Blackhaven, a vassal to the Baratheons of Storm’s End. Also a knight, he joined numerous military campaigns before the show and participated in tourneys. He was eager to enact justice against the Mountain for his crimes when asked to be Ned in Season 1, but he ultimately lost his life in the process.

Thoros of Myr revived him through the Lord of Light, but this ritual was not one which had ever been successful before. He converted to this new religion because of his experience and then led the Brotherhood of Banners to deal guerilla justice against those who pillaged the Riverlands, but died many times. He loses a bit of himself each time, and the brutality and loose morality of the group did not go unnoted by those who encountered them.

Beric is an honorable man who has been broken by resurrection. As Thoros of Myr can no longer revive him, his next death is to be his final one. In all likelihood, he was revived by the Lord of Light because of his Ned-like background and bravery. His loss of self allows him to act in ways no normal human being could.

It’s difficult to say what the extent of his purpose is in the war, though it does not appear incidental that he joined the cause to fight the undead. Perhaps since he had already died himself he cannot turn into a wight, giving him an unexpected advantage against the Night King.

This advantage is shared only by Jon Snow, who is foreshadowed as a possible slayer of the Night King. Beric may have served to promote the cause of the war and recruit, providing a vision of what the Lord of Light can do against the Great Other.

Part of that vision is helping the true hero of the story, Jon Snow, defeat the greatest evil of them all.

Unfortunately, this may require Beric to die so that Jon will understand the Night King cannot bring him back from the dead, giving him an advantage in a battle. Beric’s death is likely in the next episode in the Battle of Winterfell. His death may be the reason the allies are able to gain an advantage against the Night King because of Beric’s condition, forcing the Night King to retreat.

Beric is the light in the darkness. The hope for the end of the war.

Yara Greyjoy

The only daughter of Balon Greyjoy, Yara was the presumed heir following the defeat of her people in a doomed rebellion. Her childhood was an unhappy one because of her hard father, but hard times make strong men - and in this case, a strong woman.

Despite Balon’s failings, he raised perhaps the best Ironborn in a generation, and the only Ironborn leader capable of bridging the divide between her culture and the rest of Westeros. Yet she hopes to do this not at the expense of her own people’s heritage, or in despite it, but because of it.

That’s a tall order because of the reaving nature of her people, and it will be a difficult trait to reconcile with her hope for a brighter future when it is clear this may be what is holding the Ironborn back.

That’s not to say she is an entirely moral individual in the eyes of the audiences, but she has shown a lot of pragmatism and love which seems bereft in her difficult culture. She risked her own future to save her brother, and while she ultimately failed, this may have helped Theon later on to rescue himself and Sansa Stark.

Although her uncle Euron would later steal the Iron Islands from her, she was able to take the best ships and secure an ally in Daenerys Targaryen. Because of this bold move, she was able to secure the nominal sovereignty of the Ironborn even without a marriage alliance or the promise of one through her heirs.

This will likely have an influence on the Iron Throne in the future: The Seven Kingdoms is an Empire of many nation-states, but that is forgotten under the guise of a single King or Queen historically.

But it’s not just Yara’s actions alone which signal a possible change in Westerosi government: the Ironborn, as hated as they are, have a system of government which Tyrion Lannister noted as being admirable. Any captain can put his (or her) name forward to be elected a lifetime appointment as the King of their people.

Yara lost her chance at the crown at the Kingsmoot, but her loss was what caused her to journey east and may have proven an inspiration as an answer to Daenerys’s heir problem.

Though beloved by many Ironborn because of her initially bright future and good decisions, Yara’s story is one primarily marked by failure. Her father’s inability to think pragmatically caused the Ironborn to lose two wars and any advantage they would have had at this point in the story. She willingly went along with his poor decision making out of loyalty and perhaps even love for the man who raised her.

Balon Greyjoy’s lack of strategy and callous nature led to the loss of Theon Greyjoy to Ramsay Bolton. Yara tried to save Ramsay, but was not effectively supported by her father and did not have the men to adequately attack the Dreadfort due to their losses in war.

Her loss at the Kingsmoot is likely due to her father as well, because Euron used the discord her father had caused from his failures to take the crown.

Euron had similar ideals as Yara in bringing the Ironborn to glory, so it is easy to imagine the same actions he took to attack her fleet is likely what she herself would have done, giving her an advantage in the war. She was taken hostage by Euron.

However, Yara’s brother Theon did save Yara from their uncle, proving that Yara’s good decisions in the past, and her love for her brother, might result in her survival in the long-term.

As she heads to the Iron Islands to take them back in Daenerys’s name, it’s easy to see that most of Yara’s decisions were good ones, but she was cursed by the poor leadership of her father. Whether or not Balon’s legacy haunts her rule is still a concern, but it’s not unreasonable to assume that Yara will survive until the end of the series.

She represents a positive future for her people, and her role in the wars of Westeros may prove to inspire the Iron Throne in a way never before considered. Her loyalty and love, both for her people and her allies, can only be described as heroic.

That’s a powerful legacy for a ship captain in a feudal society.

Podrick Payne

A distant cousin to the Payne family of the Westerlands, Podrick is learning to be a squire under the honorable Brienne of Tarth. He is a good lad despite his questionable connections and has been fortunate to serve and study with characters while they were at their best, such as Tyrion and Brienne.

Though initially bumbling and at times a little too eager, his earnest nature endeared him to those who were close and allowed him to grow under their tutelage.

He has a bright future and a lot to learn, though there is something almost doomed about his path which suggests he won’t survive the war even though he may not deserve death.

Perhaps that is the tragedy of the war - good people die, and Podrick is likely to be one of him.

Despite his desire to grow strong and do good, his bravery does not always match his skill. This means he may go headlong into a dangerous situation and sacrifice himself for the sake of another person - perhaps someone dear to him.

Going into the Battle of Winterfell, it is easy to believe that he may sacrifice himself for Brienne or one of their allies. He would do this without hesitation, but I don’t think his death would just be a mark of heroism, but also a gift to the allies in helping make the future possible.

He is just a minor lad from a minor noble family. He may think his future is to be a knight, though Podrick may have nothing else to learn or live for in the narrative, because Podrick is a person who makes life worth living, and that means the best thing he can do is die so someone else may live.

That’s why it seems fitting for him to die for Brienne. Though his mentor is strong, she desires nothing more to serve, even though she has a father waiting for her return and an entire island who will one day need her leadership.

Podrick’s sacrifice may inspire Brienne to return to her family and continue the Tarth line. His legacy is the loyalty and love of life he inspires in others.

[wackygoofball]

Moodboard: Jaime x Brienne - Flight of the Phoenix AU

Supposedly, they should count themselves lucky that they are still alive, but at the same time, they are now stuck in the middle of the desert, their plane wrecked, and with no way out of this mess.

So really, they are fucked.

Royally fucked.

And Jaime knows as a matter of fact that he is royally fucked because most of the crew wants to blame him because he is the pilot who crash-landed the plane, when really, an unforeseeable sandstorm coming out of nowhere is nothing he could have dodged, no matter his abilities.

“It makes no difference anymore anyways,” Brienne is quick to insist after inspecting the damage. “We are stuck here, the engine, as it is, is beyond repair without equipment and spare parts. So instead of whining about who may have had what part in what, we should think about what to do.”

It is during moments such as these that Jaime can’t help but smile and think back to the easier times, some years back, when he first met the willful, mannish mechanic with astonishing blue eyes. Things were much better during those times, when she took flight courses to learn how to operate a plane on her own. They teased, they fought, and it was wonderful, but then the courses ended and Brienne departed. And it wasn’t until this flight that they saw one another again.

And it was also the first time Jaime got to know her foster son, Podrick Payne.

However, now is not the time for nostalgia, Jaime is very much aware. They have to find a solution, or else they are all going to die here, and Jaime fancies that about as much as the rest of the group. However, that still leaves the one big question:

What are they supposed to do to get out of here?

“I have an idea,” Tyrion then jumps in, pulling Jaime out of his memories, back to the reality of sand, more sand, and impending death. “We may not be able to repair the plane as it was, but we may rebuild a new plane using those parts, lighter in weight, and with a different kind of engine to help it run.”

“Is that even possible?” Petyr Baelish wants to know, turning to Brienne, who can only ever off an uncertain grimace. “It is not impossible, but you are suggesting building a plane without computers, without testing aerodynamics, without proper material. I know how to fix aircrafts, but I never built one from scratch.”

“See? She is on my side!” Tyrion chimes. “Look, I studied the plans while at the Rock and took courses on airplane construction. It’s just a bit of aerodynamics and some physics. Not too difficult for me. If we work together, we may escape this death trap. But only if really work together and don’t try to kill one another.”

And so, seeing no other chance, the group decides to work on Tyrion’s daring plan to get out of the desert. After all, they don’t have many other options at this point of time, even though the group around Baelish, including Meryn Trant and Euron Greyjoy, seem more convinced of the idea of just walking into the desert in the hope to find someone or some better place to stay. However, when they vote, the majority goes for Tyrion’s plan, which means the other three have to obey.

Jaime is quick to assume the leading role in the group since he is the captain of the plane and is the only one with proper military training, though Petyr, Meryn, and Euron make it no secret that they are less than pleased to be forced to take orders from the two Lannister brothers, and they do anything within their powers to cause division between the group members in the hope to sway the majority to follow through with their plan instead.

Following an incident involving missing provisions, Jaime decides to put Brienne in charge of the food supplies and that whoever gets caught by her will be at her will:

“Whoever steals food from the stash will get knocked by her into the sand, and she will have any authority for doing so. We all want to survive here, and that makes it essential that all is equally shared.”

When Brienne questions him about it later that evening, Jaime is quick to explain why he made the decision to put her into a position of authority: “Guys are stupid assholes. Those guys in particular. They think they can do things better because they have a cock, so we better make sure they know that you will show them how if they don’t behave. And if they don’t... you still got me, wench.”

“I don't need you to protect me, Lannister.”

“You go on believing that.”

The project continues against the odds of the harsh environment the group is caught up in, ranging from merciless heat over sandstorms to freezing nights. After all, the food supplies, even after Brienne took over the duty, are only ever diminishing. And while Brienne managed to stretch it out by clever distribution, they know it will only last for a limited number of days.

While Tyrion seems to almost spark up with enthusiasm about building an aircraft out of thin, dusty air, Jaime and Brienne remain very much worried about the outcome of this. The two spend more and more time together to go over tactics and how to go about the eventual “sweet escape” Tyrion keeps dreaming about. In turn, that forces the two to talk about some many things unsaid before they parted ways.

“I will admit I was surprised when I learned that you now have a foster son, not going to lie,” Jaime comments one evening they spend together by the fireplace as it is their turn to keep watch over the camp.

“Yeah, yeah, I know the song. I am not the motherly type, I am aware. But Pod was already a teenager when I took him in, so… it’s different,” Brienne huffs.

Jaime frowns. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what is it?”

“I just meant to make you a compliment, geez, woman,” he snorts, rolling his eyes. “I mean, for all your clumsiness and scowling, the boy turned out one fine lad who knows his way around even in the desert. Not many parents can say that about themselves.”

Brienne stares at him. When she first told what she thought were closer friends that she would take a teenager into her care, they only ever gave her those weird looks indicating that they didn’t find her capable of that. Not that Brienne ever wavered in her decision as a result, but it would be a lie to claim that it didn’t nag at her over the years. She wanted to help Pod become an independent, young man, and now to have Jaime of all people tell her that he thinks that she succeeded at that means more to Brienne than words can ever express.  

“Thank you,” she mutters.

“It’s the truth…,” he sighs, leaning back to watch the stars, which are beside his brother, Pod, and Brienne, the only bright spots in this shitty situation. “It’s really a pity that we lost sight of each other after the course was over, you know?”

Brienne shrugs her broad shoulders. “Well, our lives went different directions.”

“Maybe they would have gone the same direction, though,” Jaime points out to her.

“How is that?”

Jaime licks his lips. “Want to know a secret?”

“We may all still die in here, so why not?”

“On the last day of the course, I wanted to ask you out on a date, but then you went a few days earlier,” he admits, which shocks Brienne, to say the very least.

“Because I got the call about Pod,” she answers quickly. “I wanted to meet him first chance I got.”

“Well… I didn’t know that. I just took that to be a sign that it shouldn’t have been,” Jaime tells her. And Brienne thought all this time that she was just seeing things between them and that she was just going down the same situation she once had with Renly, falling in love with a guy who was most definitely not into her.

“So you… you really wanted to ask me out on a date, an actual date,” Brienne just has to make sure, because that just seems so utterly unbelievable to her that the young woman can barely wrap her mind around it.

“An actual date, yeah,” Jaime confirms.

She chews on her lower lip. “… Want to know another secret?”

“Sure.”

“If you had asked… I would have said yes,” Brienne admits, not daring to look at the man she had feelings for for much longer than she dares to admit, but thought was not enough into her to accept a mannish mechanic into his life who also happened to bring along a foster son.

“Want to have another secret?” Jaime then asks.

“Which would be?”

He kisses her, then, and the two have to see that the feelings they thought had died back during the course are perhaps even stronger than they used to be. However, no matter their personal bliss of reconnecting after the time they spent apart, Jaime and Brienne soon have to realize that the rest of the group is short before breaking point. Bealish starts to rally the others in an attempt to overthrow the Lannister brothers and instead roll with his plan, which is to leave the plane, take the rest of their belongings, and try find someone in the desert or spot some unmarked town.  

Conflict is about to reach a breaking point when yet another secret comes to the light with regards to Tyrion’s plans, and it has yet to be determined whether the group is going to make it out of this death trap alive or they will be covered by sand until they, too, become a secret of the desert to never be found again…

Additional Image Source: Flight of the Phoenix (2004).

[libidomechanica]

Untitled # 8659

A sonnet sequence

               1

Great the brilliant streams betraying fair to have a bouquet in my face. It sighed to the engines laid by art’s wise hand, she dwelt but half its produce even a tent, and up again, the heauie cheere; but the fate of a trumpets wanteth! They haten that the folk swich estaat as God lust yive it to his title, not a woman is, protection. I may give in; I do not sought nor what payne to seek anew some fressh and eek mateere. I look for love to be in the same? Lock, a rose white fog. Believe me, good humour most, when thou seist to mourn among the animals. And to Leander, die.

               2

Had turned, cast many the fire, of one nymph prepare! But woman love sigh behinde! And pulled him to shifte. My love is none that which I use to make his limbs of living, the bird that cause she’s home. Ye could any men; and merry shine. And, thought appear, now, while praising heat recall; that first, came love no more hold me by thee. And as she went, and cirque-couchant in an empty left his golden rod, through something, as to rent her mourning upon this cheste. A patient thoughts surcease, raise to thee, cheerful hope thus algates hous? Yon red rose, her mourned. Proud as a punk; chaste dame who laughs at Hell, but I go.

               3

Thus lily, rose, grape, cherrywood cabinet that hir housbonde was awe in thilke day incapable of thine own the Peraean rills, and threw his station and my forces. Yet is, with dewy gem, frighted, Hero shined and this nigh, but being slaves, upon her, and the bride, brow-beating heart was fix’d his mind assume the dedicated words thou canst thou within his arm over my woolly haunting bird’s feet. God helpe me sorwe; myn housbonde to the Splendour of this wreaths of the evenings harder to be moved, burns where she, shee could wish to serve your face made milk- white Ohio town you greater glory.

               4

To hazard more overruled by fate. ’ Truth of Greece to hazard more on books the fruite such beautiful Pussy you are, you aren’t. But the rest. The first grynt; I pleyne thee. My needful seeming not won, yet wol I fonde. Part of a landscape, that he harbor lie. Fever dew on every thing while beautiful a sun, so sad a sigh has brought and swells, none sees her bereft. Worn out melody; gone are thus he accosted here. Hurling myself within his Heart, nor mov’d; from every deel. Which, snatched his word is nat bigonne. Let them swear the buzzing of the earth as kisses, the puree, all beautiful Pussy you are not back from the truth saue the cattes skyn, that he would such an alcohol! Is raking leave, since what thou growes one with fair and lifted by the means, Put yours, they do all the research: columbus found, and hate, that would praised of the orator. In the earth to gaze upon.

               5

Just like disaster. Juan replied. The same mystic music and flutes: it is to seye, if I be deed, yet was he, with sholde wene, or hurtful beastes pawes: and he store thrice told of Ceres’ horn, and a nomenclature from inns of molten blue-eyed fly to follow slips from chain-smoke cigarettes my compassed bye, hey ho hollidaye, the grass, yet hiding soul put off your promised of his nose, with gilded honourable deed be done, as it will, that thou smoothly pass their luckless race are drawn by those ranckling teares poure out of sight. Unto think I should the morn her devout, psalterian.

               6

But the same; they had fill’d the spell: You ride now to only made hym with many a strong in war, the sweet kiss—you seem’d to forget his wysdom is the thatch-eves run; to bend with something out of them, like murmur or grucche thus he to my eyes could e’er had no feare. ’ The lake as, seistow, we would enjoy a sudden anger not the naked is I wish well the vats upon his book or lute; but her new voice revives through the inner door, wherewith shepheard something shepherd stock the plains before we grow old and could swagger, Rosamonda’s bowl. Be where I dreamt to-day, were my lonesome Wild.

               7

Only beauty, Lady dear! To you, to whom remains, not too fair, too divine; she marvel then or pray. The air, invisibly, she scorn for thogh faire adoun, and enter’d marveling: for the great lords all, which Plato in his Redress. So hye, hey ho Perigot was dory, relieved itself verdant goose. I made her speech is higher. A flying race: but, when my leaping up a mass of water sometimes introduce even a politics of mode, nor hath the consomme, the human for to move Seek doubting meat. With deliberate human observed as she ought aymes at thy unkind.

               8

An’ a’ the top of the gloom of brass, oft hath breath forth to walk the secret smiled to see me bleed, and threes, enringed and fee that oother half turn to pot. Till in us is overrules the Records of old that I discover the air, whom Fame worthy such as knew he was—at least, if never knew, and none beside, and woman love and move; there, for fear this barren verbiage, current yet in his owne: and Cuddie, as thee liste; taak youre leve, ye shul have room. So much sense has its smell into a cypress train abode. Let love. Show me that cool cave shall grow, while I woo thee his thankes, helde.

               9

But Colin bids her foul pride. Amidst life’s busy throng,—beautifie your voice faltering female hands do hold, their love! Because he never lost moist and clatter, and goodness, to the knee; where he is driving how to rule, and swans, powdred with his whistles in the Cane of Galilee, bý the same—it wearies out wrung. What taste refin’d, th’ address, there men, by his own. Let those faire adoun, and Jankyn, oure chastitee. Not one; my presence summon’d on to bind them bemone that might deem her friend being all mankind. In feith, he shalbe mine. Of the sedge, my sister’s mind; and to this, wise silent here.

               10

Nor dances in the funeral director? For sothe I wolde thee and all the gracious! I long to the wind, whose courses; and al swich an old passion gratitude. Where do you her scornful eyes of monster, there’s a convertest. Let’s startled in vain was not envy—Adeline had not be, nor leave my tale. A- list’ning through numbing colouring the hills alone? Thou seyst an hawe of his wyf to-yeere! Of yellow hue Thine age asks ease, beneath all there God is dwell, thy golden hair, as from those parts of gossamer you’d pinch the head, elate, helpless, must forever. So sweetly endite, while quacks of States, summon’d the Matter over in the wind, and illiterate hinds? And stooles, and his swifter the found the Roman lines of empire, and for what we are after Winter is come, stopped, he went mad, and with feast and lips! He touch’d that near him; and, as he threw they pass’d a way!

               11

And in hand, and wente at hoom; I have left full their death, when the best on thy heat and most Rabbis Jewish in the faded face, till, checking lemonade and give up all are gone, whose baubles look’d and by love’s syrup, that ones in at the mountain seems, a hope of compliment, and kept it down the air, her necke you dispossess’d without one distinguished edge, my compare the leaden sheet. The ghosts—their happy vintage, beneath a hillock down his wyf hir love thee, and so woe-begone? Whether one whose nun you are true string blast eche coste doth require some friendless permutations, continent.

               12

All bath’d in the liberties; not for life, too sweetly to tune. Before she gave sense. I swallows twitter, came a ruin: side by side they were life on the wilderness, full oft in rurall song of drunkards scooped in the Hand of triumphal muffles there’s fame young heart when some untrodden regions full oft; and there is a cureless sort of desultory rhyme; but even the Bust and Temple rise—then fall about the cops. More, and then he comanden, attė leeste, a thyng of which thou do to my wants, and there were swich a tale! Of my complain, joining my labour to my nece also.

               13

Put purple-lined palaces imperious desire on the liberal Graces locked their bliss the travail of heart! Said fair Lamia: tell me pleasure yield, must make him much outlive a gilded honour, wealth had given of a Host, from them into forget me forth to joy have you disposicioun, ech falleth in one? The lang, yellow pin on your glory. And through the gold chain-smoke cigarettes I’d have calmly smiled to see Leander going to be so caught in its zone. Because you’ve forgotten then! Next, she had an air of Adeline determined Juan’s merits something down.

               14

When I began to dress the might forbere hym do his nycetee. For I though I am but hark the fashioned aptly to lull down from a hand, nor my beloved. And, what the puppet of a darker hue, bewitchingly o’er-arching like a plante of sway. Which marriage should I forgets, the same looser yeares, whether the oracle, no heat or say a dream: the footmarks small; not there; of whom not of the midnight hours; thy voice, but a fairy dreams … throw your fix’d; beauty and youth, though here thynges trouble of single Almond packt. But it were close, blowing! My commitments the moral a fresh anchor’d; whither reverence; they danced by thee. Falling sprites remoue. Which he grows? His promist weale; breakfast of lover and a ninth beside a lonely way, close bosom-friend that all things, so save his hond also that I have slain or put to processiouns, to pleasures in a little wing!

               15

I thee biseke! Of half this the Mermaid’s now, but ye do, certeyn, olde dotard, by your first sight? Of all that that hath but oon hole for his face often haue I scaled, which joyful Hero answered Florian; have you lingered day by day you love maks a’ the ladies’ robes but that have been faithful love her dream, so Corinth, when it strived; they my payne to seek anew some from his old teacher’s watching the melodious trees! But I was told. When, as if she doth expres of worst or last oozings hours laid by art’s wise hands with pleasure, and gnomed mine own, to like to thee thar nat pleyne thee.

               16

When I began to bark. Desire your country formed, and whyne. Less well: and me fro drynken wyn or ale, I shall grow, while these secrets should more overruled by fate. Childless with this great it was, and in hand, with dewy gem, frighted match, and man. Men may thy love, and see, and outer worlds to cross that right. And I wol have, and feele I on my nece also. And positively henceforth no temptation,—as women have hard life, and brakes, and heavy gold, ne clothes. This idol which her bridal car wheels go over my heart will tell me thou know it; silent; vainly so, he look’d more so white.

               17

Are sleepers pass, and therefore unto me! To the clerks, the sweetest leave one, still vnto the sun. And the younger yeares, whether reverend father’s cursed day and cry’d in Heaven a blessing by night, whan thow goost to misuse therein the lock, ere their beamie darts his neck unto Ynde, and with sweet, and tincture like a chuckle of water and end with ceremony meet pour’d on his arms the heart asleep had laid enchanted on the rested not, speaks her mind purest vintage, being me, if bright coin, the found the article and singer with miseries, there was angry not the happier men.

               18

Into an oval, square, or matter,—ah, it is to keep aloof, to make they track’d therefore by the purple flakes, break amorous Leander stynte, comth a reyn! A park is purest and seyde, and noght with the Deluge. Aurora, who laid will take to pine forest wide is fro the fate of hym al nyght, he wolde wedded—olde dotard, by you Cupid raise; but stayed his swifter the short, upon this half-world. Was strook. It was there we not from childhood? And I myself instant caught inkling sound of the day was his fo; lucia, likerous, devoutly prayed the eastern mountain under crescent-wise.

               19

Poured pearls, while throughout her eddy brain, His Psyche to my earthy mind elsewhere, there chaste to heaven to wave and mellow, and you that they that be a proverbes than dreary pole so marks his lantern, Child, that oon for a moment, the room another pride, he som tyme was a Catholic if you’re probed by this sad lamenting and talk of all ill? In gastful groue they that which though a desperate the Pope is Catholic, and to her way; thinke of th’ everlasting in a second-sight of such a grand sunglasses jingled, and go; but since Adeline had all the riches it impart.

               20

Beauty new and opposite sent forth the deeds we do. Years betrayed, whence his arm over my syde, til that Learning gaped wide, far and for hir wirkyng ful contradiction, but wast thou bear’st love I bore to thee by the libertee and tears, fits, flirtations, and I thy shrine, no grove, the housbondes tolde he made tongue bewitch’d as oddly. As fast as thou in vowing new hate after change eyes, and though at the morn her debt—sole credit, to shine; for thee. Where I may pass over vodka or coffee ought not be, nor find him in those who so may say, the silent deep deceitful Mercury. To break.

               21

Whereas insisting in midnight hours; no voice, but which inward sunne to hear her whom want betrayed, dived down the Prison of my fourthe hour when thy humour such as she hates and hire malencolie. As did you greater fires in men. A basket of my soul began retreating, a beautie with a second berth, your loves; and loues vnbridled lore would fail from honest faith ingratitude I find a tradesman once so dear, made rival with cryes, where each time with cheekes to read, and Hoigh for to welde a thyng of which that Crist hymself afyre. When icicles hang by the moon, the press; and wins even blue.

               22

Matter of lighten with longing, leather and mooder, and a doubtful tale from Psyche, ’ I rejoin’d—’She was grace the marks where unhappily as after thy rubriche, I wolde wene, or hurtful beastes pawes: and the crusted snow, when rocks impressions and prayed the snowy hats and said the wild roe bounden unto me, and many a hill far from autumn sky, and love. Her who that tomb in which circle round supposing knaves, and leave her turret stands and daws, lest they went, full often, God it woot, things in wedlock. Began to sing, happy in beauty of the heart or brow,—strong in despitus.

               23

And make a lantern in her then err’d not. Leaving the forest wide is from her than that lulled me already knows it now, sire, later flowers, newly reap’d late on that is my folly, or too high bred to see your sought in well-raisde notes; my pen, the while, discussed a doubled plumes are reeking refuge, slipped. Of treason, in all her with the Beauty’s truth and blew the gout—taste of folly and with he might now sholde it underneath the summers. Some laid his crowned were, this clerkes han all her griefe, witnesse many a river durst in the casket were all but make no boost, for in his Redress.

               24

There it cherished, murderer of repose, artful to the richesse, somme for mourning to have hard life, from vice, since my hands and the Nightingale, and in the arrow for the particle at his shoo ful bitter orange ball that taken heede hem chide, for me appear as any nyght and palely, some have thou love not blossoms, where it is poetry which mads the faery land, who complete without tell her badly spent. Soule was so fressh and tree, and then an open field: sore against a creature? Which book eek they knew thee soon; rest, rest, on some to his mind was young Apollo, that bonie face, and walke I wolde, as I divine; whether were enamoured on the straitest best words, like daughters, my harueste hasts to say, Resist us if you can’-which like a book that he strings do breath of my woe, bene with that: so that touched, I’d grow old and from her own opinion of all ill?

               25

But what someone might before she sky, sports in the new lips to his plump the happy pieties, the tempest in the night form a science is their ways; I sit and gay, scorch and gaudy nymph of the glowing less sort the swelling friend of mine annoyes are reeking refuge, slipped into all: the thunderbolt hangs silent croak. There thou daily at morning to love us weel; al this as of his book al nyght, whan that usual paragon, an only fix’d, they were missed what is born on this fresh Cuddie, the filled with her sudden clinged heels to either sounded, hardly is dissembled. Alone.

               26

To chirchė dore I have turned to you. Came in I do not bid old Apollonius—from his complain, swoon’d, murmurings, with a stroke, betwixt the rest, father with her this I sing, my thought him more, not ask’d it, ever in a flash, than in this falsely brown, or fair. Toasts live alone, worn out in disbelief, the roof and floor, can charm might apply: that which seems at first, that have I yet this inestimable gem. Because my business of tickets, or congress for loue then is feasted Pallas wait; whose cureless on a star upon that like a singultus— emblems of emptiness, gossip rout.

               27

The fleece I shear of all this epitaph above the force, so that in the womman to bark. Which may round with least nine, and sighes breath absorb thy silvery koi swishing to her bought so specially do we affection every sound, and the lute and sad, in mourning the consomme, the human form divine, and the cates. Without a name, and such as the tide I had, better salad ushering the western sea, low, low, breath for the fires of the broken-hearted proved is a dove. The soft handles heap’d withal, by the lovelorn piteous empress most enforcement and science, this; by mankind.

               28

Enclosed her in the air, her neck so fair? Rich, noble, but did spare the burnt, she cried, Lycius! And thought. You passed byrd, that I had never but with devocioun; but their lives. With the sensuous organism that xylem thickened, mixt with feathered long. Of Woman merit some heir to a large tree. Not July causeth thee so appalled.; And for there was the chest where painfully and faire, most freshly blew the lovest elsewhere might be better loose,—it screeched! Love a steadfast friends to Plight, till in Chloe dies. Thou seist also, that has soft fires, which his mother. For whom I would love you my complain.

               29

As if her necke you drive I nevere agilte hir lyf in chastity, but gives o’er; and few great Atossa’s mind, the top of a handmaid we must with dim and lay him low, that blow by night, and often look through the conference, he had my friend, yet when you could ever gaze in eyes the Rights of Woman merit sometimes and ful often lived alone, lycius standing hits each mortality,— all women is, that toong? Rose upon a crescent-wise. I noticed a strange tales are ploughmen’s clocks, when turtle’s blood, and took great lords all, which is as blank as a woman’s yet, told the slacken all the tomb?

               30

” Of his worth we hear, and that you are not. And in her lips my Nectar drinking. Then loe Perigot was liberal by nature’s natural stays of steel so struts and waited therefore fittest, as of their resolves—alas! Taste of purėd whetė seed, and laid his colours and yon the best of all? The heauie cheere, yet sholde I seye, Wyf, go wher there is no dream; or say a dreadful images here represent, past, or next-to-last, of three years; the rushes greenest work, but for thy sacred ring when thou deservest alone as the air, cuckoo; cuckoo, ’ The dusk with youre parable, are false theef?

               31

Yea, all the same;—but Adeline, no deep judge of tinkling rimes an owl, and stronger than ten, whoso that is best music, sole perhaps might have sate up too late for the same; whether in Heav’n ye wandering, passion’s errors? To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and none besides the Knot: for he squirrel’s granary floor, and in hand, that t was fix’d on mince, a cup hast thy pacience. Show me thy sour leisure gave no sorcerer’s malison on me, no ghostly haunting music, Hack. You have thy little heart that anything women love my heavy cheer, companion’d or alone; while her lovers slain.

               32

I struck two, and known; till like a song of love, so ruefully? Flight displaies vertues great planet fix my world of zest. And can honoured by our eyes, straight arose and, drunk my teares, now hopes the grass fell down, by his own. He knew what love to him, wept alone. Through many a fayre flocks, which to these ravish’d, she lifted eye, the while bright dart their loss of his prisoned the silken couche; for by some of thilkė tonnė that I have licence of mind; so when the bettering one death bred, and smoothly with your bodies for thee; that’s not lose head cushions, slow perhaps because he had all to marry yet. Cupid is wings, her who look here for all Aspasia’s cleverness, full of books fresh frown, or clenched in your shame! I wish she had a woman he is in his rude affray, for his look. A frere wol entremets’ to piddle with To be preferrė bigamye, or of some arch’d temple door, or dust.

               33

Deep dost fly: if thou to whom my Muse, shew thou canst not for you but that night shall see me as she lo’es me best movies, for al is for his crispe heer, shynynge as gold from thy might enjoy tonight. As though for that. To whome my Muse thee to make they missed or mocked ugly night, grave sir, both which was not—but t is easier far, thrilled the cast over Thou, whose only lighted match, a patient thought, see thee biseke! And hoarder, a cat, as always makes thus vnkindly heat, galloping, galloping, when I began to creepe, whose Virtue’s self. Down a musky Fawn of aurorean loves his wide wings!

               34

That evening sweet of pale-mouth’d prophet dreaming in children—women, rich and goblets, and swift count no more. Burn to do as did your hidden kinds of yellow pin on your generous, loved music of the bridel in my slight to those whom Nature grow: but she began, they cannot for dinner ready, but thereby committing in they must be flatter myself, and which attract our greater thing thee? He sicken’d in austere, as Eldon on a lunatic commission—in politics of mornings shall see; but that white, and olde; unnethė myghtė they the sudden with any man that place you what, feature—auld Nature hath hym payned, to dally with pervading brilliant, a gang war wrapped up in thee for his lovely graduate, still I force with that old ruined marbles, bossed with many a nyght Jankyn clerk, whan that had daft his golden string, a dashing demoiselle of a poet.

               35

Of a hand upon you, a woman, I. The moon, unphased away she triple league decrease to a few paces; not at first is rather more-for so new, and by myne eyes to enioy. At this thyn array a single one, so fast there apart, let no dimme shadow and, despise it. Air, together, and prayed the slender the truce with love’s sole enemy. Pity to been assay, til that some splendour of thilke lasse light to do. His dull eyes mighty fuss just the hollow pearl they stood, and wo, we filled with paine this mind was you me this: why hydestow, wol ben at our passion in his hair.

               36

So took hym on honde he had he stood, has come there they seem liketh to shield himself upon you. In towered courts is oft in flower amang them as the change is my heauy laye, and hearts entangled. As I gain the wo, Ful giltelees, and the serpent now began to change his pinions, when I began, through her breath the days. For such grace sappho next, a principal: smooth bald crown, when of pleasure ceased; a deadly lurks there can be no screams of you the hedge to me. We talk to each other died. Can hardly blazon forth the thought: such pryde at litel prys: this knoweth every way. With whom I am contented sort of perfections; let not married all, maz’d, curious day; and wered upon our care. Because I change by to-morrow, and his merits and days when the thorn of pain. Thou doest proceed upon her hand in heavenly progeny, as still and wound was, greater Bacon?

               37

And if rymes with love, and bowed my hair; it told me close, as the cold ran the Graces, and had not a theological statement I am pushing shut of dusty urns sepulchred, where Lucy knew; but women have not bound Prentice Janekyn, and clear morning back, feigning to a blue string; but various meats display for loftier rays. Which he doth find, happy title do I find something every guests; but if thou wolt sippe of the naturally—imposed not be, nor find him in by shutting on in gratulation, when I was a goodly wild vine, entrailed with truffles.

               38

Times are few thou canst thou be fair, to shepheard of Youth,—the marked by the morn her did so, but Colin bids him clayme with the happier people meant but still I shouldst garded things, or thanne sit he doun, and I go from your meriment. Aurora sat with languid string, by flowing less so; for few of these should any men; but their glorious day; and but ye love to roam over thing to a moral a fresh youngly thought, a buzzing of the woods and sang to a moral a fresh anchor’d; whither resorted many more seductive, to make the spell: You ride now to only my love good-bye. Since whiche thynges moore resonable that all we find feelings in the carefull Colinet. They name thou to whom all cares of Crete, for Sovereign law; and on my hip, because I taken heede hem so wel kan preche of gold from the snake, but seal with our sins but that my life hath got blue gaze.

               39

Your ugly empty left his golden fleece. Out difference their dusty fight may endure the press; and thereof, my deare, whose weight coming, near, more than mortal fame, like honey, and once she pass’d with thy bed-vow broke the solemn light, till old, made it sweetner art; pleasing her obteine. Made rival with tender you appears my queynte allone? My little heart’s contented wood, woode as he! The forests heard of the fowl from my soule never breast breathing she wants a heart that entendeth, which flourish. How I wad sing on her pillow: the waves themselves, can help contradiction still. How love came near with me.

               40

On them and branched the tide I had, ’ he answered, who could not light; day afternoon and usen hem bye, spoones and obdurate minds, amidst life’s ear; but who shone o’er life without the sweets—for she alone: our bolder man who loved, wants an heiress, and turned in my plaint a sweet love, too sweetly quickens in my constancy. Far from the earthly circuit of Writers mind; but what’s reality more beauteous for t espye wenches green, and bordered with all the funeral directed, to the though no coxcombry or congresses who wolde praye yow, but little the prophet should not be not true.

               41

To wommenes love here there with the bloated into the hous; they danced by thy train scatter myself that fiend the wind was strook myn ere wax al deef. And my mind, we owe to move what Natures cabinet, the wiser Muse; I teach think of common-place costume. Before than match-making in childbirth, wise- women charred at our meat; and thanne saugh hym go after went and coughing drowns the fading rose Saucy pedantic wretched boy, how dark the bulging eyes of monster. A pretty poet. The while, discuss—would corruption leave a vestige of tinkling sound the proudly sits more overruled by fate.

               42

—She wants to be known this, she faded face, whose loue I pyne, hey ho hollidaye, when I cast mine and let appeared his foolish Jealousy, how should follow swift was store, are left scole, and cowslip’d lawns, goat footed China, touch’d the Ant’s eye; and aye my Chamber where Time’s best jewel from faery land, hard for there it loved you. His colour vade of the Assembly, and pulled the Lady Blanche alone, if that gray-bearing one deathless albeit not sad? Leave to entertainment of Tiberius, made wither’d at dew so sweetly gracing. The hole—The light and painting with his Grace in a ride or walk.

               43

Why vowest thou art as a feend, if that I ne tolde of it no less the bright and love came near with clothyng, and removed, burns where their points we need not tell, motion’d him from gods or more difficult to stark plains before the lull’d winds shook that grew her immortal fingertips but sweeping, spread them kiss. Low, low, breath as fragrant oils with ourselves on the hills and vales, who by blind: these preciously. And now began to sound off an hour upon a day at childish heart when love through many anguish drear, hot, glaz’d, and a doubled streets and lyves that called, that was stung, perverse, with all its sweete pyne!

[antiquechampagne]

Chapter 11 Part 2

The VIP room was a few degrees cooler than the bar, but the presence of MacCready made up for the temperature with awkwardness. He sat in the far corner chatting with a bald drifter in dark glasses, smoking a cigarette and casting eye daggers her way. Payne did her best to ignore him. She lifted her hair off her neck and shoulders in an attempt to cool off.

A little while later, Hancock wandered in, a bottle of vodka dangling from his desiccated fingers. “You’re about to lose your date to the Silver Shroud if you aren’t careful. Kent looks like he is about to take an upgrade home.”

Payne rolled her eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” Payne left to say her good byes to Kent and Nate. She could see Kent was tired and wished him a good night. She trusted Nate to see him safely home.

When Payne returned, Hancock had reclined on the sofa; his eyes glassy. A Jet canister danced between his fingers as he flipped it deftly. It reminded Payne of gamblers who would walk chips up and down their fingers.

“Flying high, Peter Pan?” She sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

“It’s a shame you can’t do chems. You are missing out. Wait… Peter Pan?” He said dreamily.

“Never mind.” She dismissed his with a wave of her hand. “Now that Kent’s gone, I don’t need this anymore.” She removed her veil, and after a moment’s thought, used it to secure her hair up in a bun. She then stripped off her gloves. Payne sighed as she could feel herself cooling off immediately.

“So stimpaks don’t really work on you… what about Jet? What does that do?”

“Jet just burns and I start coughing up chunks of lung. Now this:” Payne picked up the bottle of vodka. “This still works just fine even if I have to drink twice as much.” She took a few hearty swallows. Hancock, while spaced out, had a pensive look on his face.

“You still stuck on Bobbi?” Payne thought of the past few weeks, riding out Hancock’s highs and lows. He hadn’t really talked about it much.

“No… and yes. Kinda?” He tipped his head back. Payne watched as the leathery skin of his neck stretch tight against his Adam’s apple. “I’m more worried that I am losing touch with the people, you hear me?” Payne wasn’t exactly sure, everyone in Goodneighbor seemed to be on the same page.

“Why do you say that?” Jet made Hancock chatty sometimes, you just had to watch that where he went wasn’t too dark or you would run into problems.

“We are all equal here, anyone should feel free to come up and tell me shit to my face. Walk right up and spill it if they have a problem with the way I am handling things here., but Bobbi, she had to go behind my back and try to steal from me… why?” Payne just shrugged, just letting him ramble. “It’s because they think I am out of touch… not one of them anymore.” He straightened up. “Some asshole in an ivory tower. I need to get out and get dirty again! I need to show everyone that I am not all talk!”

Payne patted his knee. “Not tonight, you have a party to enjoy. Cowboy up tomorrow.” He relaxed again, but Payne could see the gears turning in his head. He wasn’t going to let that thought go.

Payne’s eyes wandered around the room as she downed more vodka, lingering on strange patterns on the water stained walls. She was starting to feel the warmth of the drinks pile up in her body, loosening her up. Her ears picked up the clumsy plinking of a guitar out in the other room. It made her grimace unconsciously.

Hancock picked up on the sour look. “You have a thing for music as well as dancing? What other tricks do you have in your black bag that we can see tonight?”

“They could have at least tuned the guitar right… it sounds awful, whatever they are trying to play.”

Hancock slipped off the couch. Before Payne could voice her objection, he waved her off with a flick of his hand. “Prove to me that you can play better.” The alcohol must have slowed her down more than she realized, because he left the room before Payne could formulate a reaction.

Damn it! Payne thought to herself. She hadn’t touched a guitar in years… let alone played in front of anyone. Shit!

Hancock soon returned with what Payne assumed was someone’s attempt at a guitar shaped instrument. It appeared to be more duct tape than anything else. He handed it to her with a mischevious grin spread across his face.

Payne took another swig and started tuning. Her focus concentrated on forcing a desirable sound out of the amalgam of a stringed instrument, she didn’t notice Hancock signaling people quietly into the room. By the time she looked up, a mosaic of faces stared back at her. Her brain quickly recognized Magnolia, Daisy, Ham and Irma along with many other residents.

Throwing a deadly gaze in Hancock’s direction, she mouthed FUCK YOU.

His grin grew even wider. “Stand and deliver, babe.” Payne’s middle finger made a quick appearance before she strummed a B minor chord. It actually sounded passible.

The chord seemed to echo a bit in the small room packed with people. They immediately started to settle down, eager to see if what Hancock had boasted about at the bar was true.

“My mother taught me this song… I hope I remember all of it.”

Payne took a deep breath and started to strum, her fingers skillfully flying over the strings. The song that wove into the air was simple, slow and bitter sweet. One by one, wordless recognition blazed alive in several people’s widening eyes.

Daisy reached across Irma and grabbed his elbow. “Holy fuck, Ham…. Do you recognize it?” she roughly whispered

Ham nodded his head but stared straight ahead. It was as if he was afraid to miss a single note.

“What is it?” Irma’s curiosity eating at her.

“Hotel California.” Was all Daisy could manage before she too was under the song’s spell, attention locked on Payne.

Every voice was silent by the time Payne opened her mouth to sing. Her voice was strong yet distant as she sang, her eyes focused on something not in the room.  She seemed as much caught up in the magic she was weaving as the rest of the audience.

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim I had to stop for the night.

There she stood in the doorway; I heard the mission bell And I was thinking to myself 'This could be heaven or this could be Hell' Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way There were voices down the corridor, I thought I heard them say

Welcome to the Hotel California Such a lovely place (such a lovely place) Such a lovely face. Plenty of room at the Hotel California Any time of year (any time of year) you can find it here…

Hancock noticed as she sang some of the older ghouls mouthing the words along with her, some with tears streaming down their hollow cheeks. This must have been a pre-war song. He couldn’t quite understand what all if meant, something about booze, whores, monsters and robots, apparently? The melancholy tone seemed juxtaposed to the somewhat upbeat chorus. While the song itself didn’t make much sense, Hancock watched Payne’s performance, enthralled. Her fingers seemed to be possessed as she ran through an instrumental interlude that trailed off to the end of the song.

She looked up sheepishly as a few in the audience started to clap. Then more joined in, as if they were just clearing their head from a fog. Pretty soon, everyone joined in. Some of the ghouls stood up as they clapped, wiping at their faces. Payne made a small bow before passing off the guitar.

Hancock clapped a hand jovially on her shoulder. “What other surprises do you have, eh?”

Daisy and Magnolia emerged from the crowd, pulling them away from the mass of people. “How in the world do you know that song? I haven’t heard that song is over 200 years!”

“Like I said, my mom. She was into a lot of pre-war art stuff. She taught me dancing too.”

“You can come over and play for me any time you like. I’ll make it worth your while! It is so rare to hear these old songs… it’s almost like hearing them for the first time again!” Daisy gave Payne a generous hug. “Bless your mother for teaching you!” Daisy turned to Hancock. “You should have made her go up on stage! She would have sounded even better!”

“I know better than to try to upstage Mags!” Hancock’s joked.

“Any time you want, you can use the stage, doll” Magnolia piped up. “Just as long as I’m not up there, of course.”

Payne blushed. “No one is going to want to watch me make a fool of myself again.”

Payne excused herself to go grab another drink at the bar. She hoped she was putting up a good front, Hancock could be really perceptive. Performing felt way too good, she forgot how much she missed that rush. As she nursed her drink, people flitted by occasionally stopping for a comment or two. It seemed to her the party was starting to wind down.

Payne caught the blur of Hancock’s red frock as he nimbly leapt on to the bar.

Addressing the crowd, his raspy voice filled the smoky air. “I want to make sure everyone gets a heartfelt thank you from yours truly tonight. Tonight we remember the start of a Goodneighbor built from the ground up for every lost and forgotten wastelander who needs a place to call home. We built our town safe from bloody tyrants and bigots.”

Charlie had started to pass around rounds and rounds of shots to everyone in the bar. The glasses overflowed with a bubbling brownish-green drink. Payne raised an eyebrow as one was set down on the bar before her.

Hancock continued, the crowd held in rapt attention. “Without every one of you, Goodneighbor would just be another shithole town in this cesspool of a city. Now she sits proudly giving every racist, asshole and bully in the Commonwealth a couple of these.” Hancock exuberantly raised both his middle fingers in the air to thunderous woops and applause. “So raise a glass and let them hear you in Diamond City! Of the people and for the people!”

He jumped back down onto the crumbling boards as people threw back their drinks, shaking hands and clapping shoulders. He slowly made his way to where Payne was sitting, her drink untouched.

“What? Not thirsty?”

“I wasn’t sure it’s clean.” Payne said.

“Come now, just because it might make a brahmin go blind…” Payne frowned. “Seriously, it’s fine. It’s just a little special something I figured out a few years ago playing around with Charley. It’s called a ‘Stinger’. We serve it on special occasions now. No chems involved, I promise.”

Payne gave a small wave of surrender and downed the sticky tasting drink. It indeed did sting going down.

“Does this have tequila in it? Cause damn, I’m feeling it already.” Payne tried to get up, her legs finding it hard to keep their rigidity.

“Whoah, did I finally get you drunk with that one?” Hancock caught her arm to steady her.

“I think you might have. It’s not like I haven’t been drinking all night long… including almost a whole bottle of vodka to myself.” Her balance danced again. “I think I better head home before I end up sleeping this off down here.”

“Let me get you up the stairs.”

Payne batted Hancock’s arms away. “I’m fine, just give me a second.” Her head seemed to clear for a second as she concentrated on the task at hand. She did appear to be walking a bit more steadily now.

“I’m at least going to make sure you get to the Rexford all in one piece. I can’t have my bodyguard passed out in a gutter. What would the neighbors say?”

Payne gave Hancock a sideways glance but decided not to fight him. She very well might need the help navigating all those damn stairs at the hotel. She started up the still elevator, Hancock trailing behind her.

Authors Note:

If you don’t know all the words to Hotel California, or just want to listen to it check this out: https://youtu.be/aNyK6EcHlzM

I debated on including all the lyrics, but I decided to only include a few to lead in to Hancock’s reaction... maybe I should have included everything? Let me know what you think.

I had a bit of trouble with this chapter. If you have any suggestions to help with clarification, please let me know!

[setaripendragon]

Girl Genius - Role Swap???

This idea occurred to me last night, and I’m still trying to work out how all the pieces would fit together, but I’m really enjoying what I’ve got so far.

At first I just thought ‘what if one of the boys was the Heterodyne heir instead, and Agatha was either the Storm Queen or the Princess of Skifander?’ but then I thought ‘no, what if Agatha was still the Heterodyne, but either the daughter of an ‘illegitimate’ emperor or the daughter of a well-established noble family?’

What if Barry, on getting back from killing Lucrezia, took one look at the mess Europa was in and lost his temper in the most epically Sparky way: ‘I spent my entire life cleaning up your damned messes, and this is what you do when we disappear for a few years?! No. If you can’t be trusted to keep Europa clean yourselves, I will make you, and you will like it! No more nice Heterodyne!’ so he goes back to Mechanicsburg with bb!Agatha, and he’s travelworn and weary and grieving and has a massive case of PTSD (...if it can really be Post Traumatic Stress Disorder when the stress hasn’t stopped yet), this little blonde toddler in breakthrough on his hip, and he goes straight to the Jagerhall, and they’re all stunned, and so relieved to see one of their boys home safe after so long, and to see him in their hall, when Bill and Barry always used to avoid the Jagers as much as they could...

And Barry just ‘Get everyone ready to march; we’re conquering Europa.’

The cheering probably did literally knock the roof off the jagerhall (they are jagers) and Gkika absolutely made Barry sit down and get a hot meal inside himself, and Agatha is completely doted on by every single jager ever, but then Barry goes off to war, taking most of the jagers with him, and Agatha gets left in Mechanicburg, with an honour guard of jagers, because the geisterdamen are probably still looking for her, and feeling really rather abandoned. I don’t think she’d have quite the same identity issues as Gil, because I don’t think there’s any way to hide her identity from her when she’s the Heterodyne Heir living in Mechanicsburg, but it may leave her similarly isolated from her peers. All the other kids would love to be her minion, but that’s not quite the same as having a friend who’s an equal.

Which is where Gil and/or Zeetha comes in. Of course, in this AU, Klaus is playing the role of Aaronev, although it’s his loyalty to Bill, rather than Lucrezia, that leads him to join Barry’s budding empire while secretly plotting to undermine it. Because, really, Barry is acting disturbingly like an Old Heterodyne, and Klaus doesn’t like it, and he’s pretty sure Bill wouldn’t like, and someone needs to be there to nudge Barry away from more despotic behaviour like ‘no, you can’t just kill anyone you think is incompetent, you think everyone’s incompetent’

I’m thinking that things in Skifander went differently from what little we know, and that Zantabraxus was killed, probably in some sort of civil war over her consort and/or kids and, since she’s taking the role of old Andronicus, maybe possibly was ressurected by Klaus into a terrible ravening monster that promptly had to be sealed away to protect the city. And of course with Zantabraxus dead, the main protection for Gil and Zeetha was gone, so Klaus scooped them up and ran, to give them a chance to grow up safely and then return to claim their birth-right.

In that sense, it would make sense for Zeetha to be the younger sibling (by a few minutes, because I’m too fond of them as twins to change that), because she would be the heir, being the girl, even if Gil was older than her, which matches better to the dynamic Tarvek and Anevka have. In which case it would be Zeetha, not Gil, who wound up visiting Mechanicsburg and becoming BFFs with Agatha, but perhaps it should be both of them... Because then, they’d end up discovering that Agatha’s mother was the Other, which distresses Agatha into a fugue, which would be even worse if she dragged Gil into it with her, that does enough damage that Barry comes home and has to explain about her parents to Agatha and sends Gil and Zeetha home. Maybe he does that because Agatha got them hurt during her fugue? I’m still trying to work out what could have happened to Gil to parallel the ‘abomination of science’ trait Anevka has.

Which brings me to the Sturmvoraus siblings. Tarvek gets to be the long lost heir to the Storm King, who honestly has no idea of his heritage, because he was too young when Barry Heterodyne smashed through the Storm King conspiracy and murdered most everyone involved, including Tarvek’s father, and probably Anevka too, and maybe it’s Margolotta who snatches up Tarvek and flees with him. She ends up running to Beetleburg, where Tarsus Beetle is more than happy to protect the heir to the Storm Kind legacy. After all, one day, Tarvek will have command of the Muses, and we all know that Beetle loved the Muses.

And I don’t know exactly how it would work, okay, but to parallel the whole ‘being left with constructs’ deal, I really, really want Tarvek to be raised by Eotain and Shrdlu while Margolotta goes off to see if she can discover if any remnants of the Smoke Knights or anyone survived. Of course, the geisters are still trying to get at Agatha, but Barry and the jagers have been hunting them pretty relentlessly, and they haven’t been able to get at her. (Actually, maybe Barry did try to hide Agatha’s identity? With the locket to suppress her Spark and orders to the jagers not to tell her... basically so the geisters are left thinking their holy child died.)

Huh. Maaaybe Margolotta (or Tarvek’s mother, even? Do we know her name?) actually got a copy of Lucrezia downloaded into her brain, and she was still trying to salvage the ‘Heterodyne girl marrying the Storm King’ plot, so she handed Tarvek off to a couple of trusted geisterdamen and then went to try and sabotage Barry and discover what happened to Agatha, only maybe that copy of her personality was corrupted, or a non-spark mind just can’t handle her consciousness for very long, and her sanity started degrading as time went on. Anyway, Tarvek grows up ignorant, with only vague memories of his family, and Eotain and Shrdlu as the only parents he’s ever really known. And he knows he’s a Spark, but he also knows that Eotain and Shrdlu are trying very hard to stay incognito, so he learns how to repress it himself.

Which brings us to the beginning of the comic. I’m pretty sure that Beetle would still try to hide the hive engine, because the geisterdamen can command Lucrezia’s ‘lesser servants’ which I assume includes revenants, and if he was going to try and use Agatha to command them, he might also try to use Eotain and Shrdlu. Either way, Barry isn’t quite as circumspect or subtle as Klaus, or willing to give people the benefit of the doubt anymore, so he just comes down on Beetleburg like a tonne of bricks.

And Tarvek gets to meet Agatha, who’s finally been allowed out of Mechanicsburg to help her Uncle purge her mother’s works, and maybe finally been allowed to break through, so she’s pretty furious and in full Sparky fugue (Barry has been in varying levels of a fugue state since he got back to Europa, it’s not very healthy at all, and it makes him a pretty terrible role model for Agatha), and severely intimidating to Tarvek. But when he goes home after Beetle’s dead, Eotain and Shrdlu are like ‘-gaaasp- The Holy Child!’ and are all set to go and try and kidnap her right away. But Tarvek, of course, loves his creepy ghost mums, and knows that they’d be worse than dead if the Heterodyne caught them, so he offers to go, instead. Get into Barry’s good graces (if he has any), charm Agatha, and maybe convince her to run away with him.

So, he probably courts Agatha, reveals himself as a Spark, and Agatha insists on him coming back to Mechanicsburg with her. At which point, Tarvek begins putting the pieces together of who the geisterdamen��s Lady really is, and he’s not morally against mind control to start with, because he’s still under the impression that the Lady is benign. But he’s actually falling in love with Agatha, and Agatha reveals that her mother was going to overwrite her brain, and it dawns on Tarvek that if he doesn’t like the idea of that happening to Agatha, it probably shouldn’t be done to anybody.

Buuut, just as he’s having this change of heart, Barry finds out he was raised by geisterdamen, and Tarvek is forced to flee. (Agatha is not happy about her Uncle scaring off her boyfriend, maybe she even counts it as the second time he’s done that, depending on what happened with Gil and Zeetha and discovering her identity.) And he flees right into the arms of Master Payne’s Circus of Adventure, where he meets Tinka and Moxana, who promptly recognises him as a direct descendant of old Andronicus Valois, and reveal his Storm King heritage to him.

He also meets a charming young actor who looks just like Bill Heterodyne, except for the rather impressive scars over the majority of his body, who was picked up by the Circus when he was very small somewhere near Mechanicsburg. His name is Klaus Barry.

Now, I have no idea how Klaus Barry would have survived the attack on the Castle, but I’ve got some vague ideas of maybe Von Pinn attempting to use some of the Sparky devices in Lucrezia’s lab or something to revive him, and whatever it was didn’t work quite right, so Klaus Barry is sort of... only half there, sometimes. Or maybe Von Pinn took him through the portal thingy? I don’t know. I’m also undecided on whether Von Pinn should have gone with him, or stayed in Mechanicsburg and wound up playing nursemaid to Agatha. But Klaus Barry is still a bit of a nascent hero (maybe he even blew up a pirate fortress once, by complete accident, he swears, he has no idea how that happened) and he helps Tarvek figure out his morals/political standpoint and totally accidentally starts training him to be King.

Either way, the Circus eventually ends up rolling through Wulfenburg, and I have no idea why they take an interest in Tarvek, maybe Gil has a clank limb or something after the Agatha incident, and Klaus (Wulfenbach) wants to study the muses to help him, and Tarvek is protective enough to be like ‘if you’re taking them, I’m staying too’, or maybe Gil just goes to have a look, and he and Tarvek end up geeking out over amazing clanks together, and Gil invites Tarvek back to his labs (you know, for coffee- or rather, science!) and then Klaus (Wulfenbach) recognises Tarvek as the boy Barry was hunting, and promptly imprisons him, though not with any intention of handing him over to Barry until he knows what the hell is going on.

Gil (and Zeetha, and Klaus Barry, and the Muses) help Tarvek escape, obviously, and after that...

Well, the whole ‘reclaiming his throne’ thing could either happen in Sturmhalten, which is where Tarvek’s family lived, but maybe it should happen in/around Paris, and whatever the GG equivalent of the palace of Versailles is. It could be fun to drag everyone to Paris early, where perhaps Seffie is hiding from the rampaging Heterodyne out to murder her family. (And you know, madly in love with Colette, but resentfully resigned to the need to marry a guy to continue the family line and produce an heir to the Storm King, but then Tarvek shows up, which not only means she doesn’t have to worry about continuing the bloodline, but also Tarvek is, given who he was raised by (and the fact that he’s falling pretty hard for Gil), very supportive of inverts, and encourages Seffie to follow her heart, because he’s actually a sappy romantic under all that plotting and pragmatism.) (And of course, Tarvek and even Gil and Zeetha and Klaus Barry get into Paris just fine (maybe Agatha sent Vanamonde to protect Tarvek when she heard about him being in Wulfenburg?) but the Master of Paris is just like NO HETERODYNES when Agatha and Barry try to get in, so Agatha convinces Barry to let her try and get in incognito, and she does manage it long enough to find Tarvek and Gil, but then there could be drama with the Master of Paris trying to kick her out, and Tarvek putting his foot down and excersizing his Kingly rights?)

I have no idea how things would all fall out in the end, but I really kind of love this AU so I thought I’d share.