#it was fun rooting for the lads while it lasted

[hwsing]

I’m very curious about any NSFW Headcanons/takes you have for Canada. 👀

sex, eh?

notes: 18+, reader is gender neutral and i don’t think reader’s genitals are mentioned. includes: canada (matthew williams). as always, reblogs are appreciated!

cw: this is more babbling than anything else; verse! matthew, outdoors sex, hair pulling, dick description. wc: about 580. not proof read. not much comes to mind for this lad but please feel free to request anything about him!

it’s so interesting to me that so many people want this man because he is so unfuckable to me its hilarious. i have to really put on my thinking cap here, but, i do think matthew is genuinely quite a giving partner. i also get the impression of him that he does like to dom (soft dom lets be clear). its a bit of a stereotype these days i think, but he seems like the type to enjoy that sort of dynamic since he can often feel overlooked in his day to day life.

despite that, i feel like he has iffy feelings on brats. he’s not the most kinky guy out there to begin with, so declining/training/ god forbid punishing is a ways outside his comfort zone. he’d much prefer to just make you feel good. now, if you reallllllly want to experiment in the more brat side of things, he’ll try a bit, but again, don’t expect anything particularly hardcore. at best, he’ll be manhandling you. when it comes to how he touches you, though, he’d rather give you sweet, open mouthed kisses down your chest to stomach!

really really really likes when his hair is tugged on. whether it it’s when you’re kissing or he’s giving you head, he just loves the little tugs to his roots. it’s a bit grounding, really; the blond is prone to overthinking and getting lost in his own thoughts. in a way, you’re yanking him back down, forcing him to focus more on the here and now.

public sex is a no go, but… outdoors sex?? this is by no means a habit of his, but if you two are camping……….. he prefers to camp by your own means rather than just. use an overcrowded campsite, so it’s not like anyone is really going to be around. with the thick forest as your walls of protection, why not get up to a bit of fun? he honestly really likes it, even if you’re only willing to do it inside the tent. although, if you’re willing to fuck against a tree, he’s more than happy to oblige!

he’s got pretty good stamina. he’s worked in the outdoors most of his life — he’s very fit. not particularly bulking, but muscular and somewhat lean. eats a good diet too. he lasts quite a while to begin with, but can go a few rounds as well! usually caps off at max two though, unless you specifically ask for more. he has a hard time saying no to you in most contexts,, he can’t help it, he thinks you’re so cute :(

still a verse at the end of the day, and if you try to take the reigns, he’s not going to put up much of a fight. again, he has a hard time denying you; quite literally putty in your hands if you decide to dom.

i dont imagine him very noisy in the bedroom. mostly soft and small moans and groans, some whimpering when he’s close. he’s not silent but not talkative either. he’s inclined to sing your praises and all that, but quietly, only for you to hear. that, and he can get a bit embarrassed by speaking so intimately, so it’s just easier for him to say it softly lolol.

this feels kinda bland so here’s a small treat: i’d guess he’s about 6.8”, trims quite close and very hygienic. slightly thick but not so much so that it’s pose a problem. very sensitive.

[cerisesakurainspring]

KITA SHINSUKE × READER

~~A compassionate love you will never trade for any riches.

"Anata?" You call for your husband.

You had just put your twins to sleep not long ago and were about to retire for the night when you saw Kita wasn't on the bed in your room. You like to think you knew him like the back of your hand, so with your confident knowledge of his routine, you decided to go to a place he frequents.

You ascended the attic with a lamp in your hand, then climbed through the mini-steps that led through the rooftop. Against the window frame was your husband leaning his shoulder on it. You smile at his serene expression and how it softened further when he saw you.

"How's our two little rascals doing?" He held his hand for you to take, and you took it gratefully.

"Finally fast asleep." You wrapped your arms around his waist and snuggled closely, craving his warmth in the chilly night. The silver-haired lad indulged you by wrapping his well-built arms around you and giving you a peck on the temple. The view in front of you was one of serene ambience and you could not help but feel relaxed in the calmness of the night.

Kita has always loved connecting with nature. He much preferred the clean air and peace of the countryside to the hustle and bustle of the towering main cities. This was one of the reasons why he chose to start a farming business instead of taking on a salaryman job. Quite a stretch away from the standard practices of men his age.

You nestled closer into his embrace and sighed contently, the memories of yesterday pulling you back to when your life started turning for the better. Five years ago, you gave birth to twins and Kita was slightly anxious about the fact for he had experience dealing with twins. He was nonetheless the happiest man on earth when he held them both in his arms as tears of joy cascaded down his alluring features.

Occasionally, his former volleyball teammates would visit and play with your adorable children. To no one's surprise, they bonded with the Miya twins the most. Two twin flames merging and creating an inferno, for every time they visited, trouble was always guaranteed.

You remember seeing an angry Kita for the first time when Atsumu taught your kids how to prank his brother. Osamu was to pick up sets of rice sacks for his onigiri shop then, and when he lifted the last sack, the grain came bursting from the hole the three monsters had created. Two mini monsters incited by a supposed mature adult. The full-grown monster Atsumu.

To escape the wrath of the silver-haired Miya, Atsumu carried both your twins on his shoulder and ran across the rice field. The two 4-year-olds giggled as they bounced on the pro player's shoulder while he skipped through the run-off platform. This was a bad move on his part for it had just rained the day before, so the soil was still moist. To his bad luck, he slipped and the three ended up falling into the rice paddies.

What would have been a fun play of tag ended severely for all of them.

The older of your twins cried his lungs out when he fell, and Kita came running from the rice mill. The fear on your husband's face was still vivid in your memory, and he was pretty livid when he found out Atsumu was the one liable.

The fury in his demeanour was enough to root all five of you in place that even the crying twins hushed down. Kita stared down at his kouhai with anger no one expected him to have.

You remember him pointing at the parked car with gritted teeth and only saying, 'Leave.' and all the Miya twins could do was bow their heads in apology and rush out.

Poor blonde Miya was almost banned from visiting your twins.

The memory made you giggle, and your husband turned his head to look at you, curiosity dancing in his breathtaking eyes.

"I guess twins are naturally born to be troublemakers," you proposed.

Kita chuckled at your remark and then kissed your temple once more. "You're doing a marvellous job keeping them on their toes."

You melt in your husband's embrace and let the gentle breeze caress your skin as it carries the scent of earth with it. The rice field before you swayed softly against the whispers of the wind, and it seemed to be in tandem with the crickets singing. 

It was like watching a concierto of nature made for just the two of you.

You stare at the stars above as it continued to twinkle in the velvety sky. The moon towering over the nocturnal landscape seemingly made the moment feel like a dream of wonder. Time seemed to crawl at that moment, and the sense of harmony and tranquility permeated your very core.

A content sigh escaped your lips as you realized nothing could make the moment more perfect.

You were grateful for the man beside you and the two little munchkins you were gifted with. Even though you were a full-time mother, you were very appreciative of the affluent yet simple lifestyle Kita has provided for the family.

It was like your own little paradise. Full of warmth and laughter.

Your husband's brown eyes look over the field stretching out far with a happy smile on his lips. For him, there was no greater joy than living a farming life with you and the twins. He was content to live out his days, experiencing the simple pleasures of what life offered him.

He did not need anything more.

To Kita, the three of you were his ikigai, and that was more than enough.

This is part of a one-shot series called Haikyuū Lovers. It was previously called Haikyuū Husbandos, but I had to rename it because it started to sound cringy, lol.

It is also up for reading on AO3 and Wattpad with the same title and pen name.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Doctor Who, but Chronologically 29ish

Fun fact! When we started this project, some Whittaker episodes did not exist, and we’ve skipped one! So Let’s hastily go back in time to 1807. We’ve just seen Tennant make eyes at Madame de Pompadour, we’re about to see Capaldi finally be a good guy and take Bill to the last London Ice Fair. Where are we this episode?

China! 1807 China, a little fishing village that gets annihilated by Sea Devils.

I was rooting for this episode, you know. It sounded great. The guest cast is smoking hot – when Crystal Yu turned up as Mistress Ching the Pirate Queen, I said “Oh no” aloud. When Arthur Lee turned up as Legendary Pirate Ji-hun, Steff said “Oh no” aloud. We are bisexual and week. Also, return of Sea Devils! And a Chinese episode! The TARDIS team is Whittaker, Yaz and Dan! Sounds great!

It’s crap. It’s just crap.

Good points: the banter between the characters is lovely, and I laughed many times. I suspect this is an actor-director. The start makes clear something I already suspected from the Flux stuff we’ve seen – that Dan is actually Yaz’s companion, not the Doctor’s. There’s a very fun scene where they all step out of the TARDIS, and Dan is dressed like a pirate. “What are you wearing?” the Doctor asks, incredulous. “Yaz told me to!” protests Dan. “Yaz!” says the Doctor. “Did you dress Dan in that?” Love it.

The sci-fi plot is okay. The Sea Devils have Team Aqua’s plan to flood the world and make more habitat for Pokemon Sea Devils, which they aim to achieve by swapping the magnetic polarity of the Earth’s poles. “I see!” exclaims a character. “That’s why all the constellations physically changed in the sky!”, a sentence that gave me 50 points of psychic damage and necessitated a quiet lie down.

The absolute worst part is that, continuing a grand tradition of Doctor Who writers trying to use Sea Devils, Silurians or Ice Warriors, these writers didn’t understand the story they were telling. We therefore ONCE AGAIN have an allegory of native people trying to commit genocide to reclaim their stolen lands and needing to be stopped. I am 100% certain that was not intentional, but fucking hell, lads.

But the second worst part is that this episode is absolutely atrociously badly shot. It is appalling. I spent half the episode trying to fucking see, because even in static scenes of two people talking to each other and not moving, the camera would just… slide off the characters, even while they are talking. And this is our second swashbuckling pirate episode featuring swordfights where they didn’t bother getting a choreographer, apparently, and thought they could make up for it by putting the camera in a bag and swinging it about in a windmill to cover the gaps.

At two separate points, two separate scenes, the Doctor offers a hand to Yaz to pull her somewhere. In both, the hand is partially-to-entirely out of shot, making the action unclear. And that is a problem, because THIS IS A DOCTOR/YAZ SHIPPING EPISODE HOLY SHIT????

It turns out Yaz has talked to Dan about this, and he has possibly talked to the Doctor, because there’s a lovely bit where Yaz fully embraces the Useless Lesbian Trope and begs him for details (“What did you say to her?? What did she say to you??? Omg tell me her exact words –“). Towards the end, while the Doctor saves the day and Yaz as ever fails the Sexy Lamp Test, the Doctor gives her a heartfelt confession.

“I can’t do relationships,” she says. “There’s no time. But if I ever did, it would be you. I’ve never felt like this, not since my wife, and I was a different man then.”

PLOT TWIST!!!!! Whomst is her wife??? How exciting. What mysteries are arising this episode.

Interesting, though, because so far, as nice as Yaz is, she’s super bland. Just nothing to her. Even episodes where she’s appeared hyper competent, she’s actually just been doing pointless busy work; she routinely fails the Sexy Lamp Test as standard. I wonder why her? Intriguing. Perhaps she will improve.

Anyway, at the end of the episode they agree to just stay friends and mutually Yearn for each other, and then the Doctor skims a stone INCREDIBLY badly (no srsly tho Jodie does Huddersfield not have a river or something you have to get LOW)

So! Let’s update!

“She” (an unknown person) is returning (perhaps River returned as Missy. Maybe Me? Maybe Clara???!)

There is something on Donna’s back

An entire planet, Pyrovilia, just… disappeared, somehow. (Maybe because the TARDIS is exploding??? Saturnine was also lost, and that WAS because of the TARDIS exploding. The lion man’s planet was also lost but he was a bit of a knob about it if I’m honest.)

Amy is maybe dead (she’s not)

The Doctor has been cubed (he’s out, but how?)

River is possibly blown up  (unless she’s Missy)

The TARDIS has blown up  (It’s fine now. Except it’s sort of melting now because it’s corrupted, but it’s fine again)

The universe appears to have ended  (the universe is back again)

The Doctor has employed(?) Nardole

(And Nardole was “reassembled???” Nardole had glass nipples and invisible hair?? WHAT THE FUCK IS HE)

There’s a vault in the TARDIS and it contains Missy but we don’t know why (sometimes she knocks for the bants)

What has happened to all these companions and where are the new ones coming from?

There’s an immortal Viking girl now. Her name is Me and she’s now looking after the people the Doctor abandons

What’s With The Silence?

Why was Rory entirely unconcerned by the entire world suddenly going silent when that is Not Normal and should have been, at the very least, extremely disconcerting?

What did the Doctor do to Queen Lizzie One?

Who is Captain Jack Harkness? (Is he the one who gave the companions a warning about the lone cyberman?)

Why is Amy seeing a one-eyed woman in a vanishing window?

What’s with the Doctor’s future involving getting shot by an astronaut?

Is Amy pregnant and why is it inconclusive?

Who is Sarah-Jane Smith?

How is the Doctor Bill’s teacher and why/where does he have an office?

What is going on with the Cyber War and the Cyberium???

Who did the Doctor lose to Cyber Conversion?

What happened with the Other Cyber War?

What happened with the Third War that deleted the void?

Why does Rose seem particularly important?

What’s with the Weeping Angel statues, and why can’t you blink at them?

What order do these Doctors go in? (Eccleston, Tennant, uncertain, Smith, Capaldi, Whittaker)

Which companion just… forgot the Doctor, and how?

Yaz and Vinder are about to die as Mori/Mwri/Muuri

There is a Lupari shield around Earth.

What’s a Time War?

What’s the Rift?

What’s Bad Wolf?

What happened with Amy’s pregnancy?

In which war did the Doctor become a war criminal, and how?

Who is the Master?

Why has Amy forgotten Rory?

Is Rory plastic or not?

Why is the Doctor sulking on a cloud?

How exactly does the Doctor have a cloud?

What exactly happened with Strax to, uh, tame him?

Which friend killed Strax?

Which friend brought Strax back?

Where did this lesbian lizard and human couple come from?

What happened with Clara as Souffle Girl and the Daleks?

How does Clara actually join?

Why so many Claras?

Why is Missy apparently in robo-heaven?

Why is probably!Missy pushing Clara and the Doctor together?

What is Trensilor and what happened there?

Who is Handles?

The Doctor is about to be dissolved by a beautiful geode man

The universe is being crushed by the Flux

Will the Doctor open the fobwatch?

Sontarans are invading Earth again

Who is Kate?

Who is Osgood? Another name of Clara’s again?

The fuck is the deal with the Grand Serpent

Does Martha get to go to an ice cream planet with 12-fingered massage aliens?

How did the Doctor forget Clara?

Who is Bill’s puddle girlfriend Heather?

How did Nardole die?

When does Bill get Cyberman-ed and die?

When does the Doctor shrink and enter a Dalek called Rusty?

Whittaker is falling to her death rn

Was that ring relevant?

Does anyone know the Doctor’s name?

When did Yaz talk to Dan about fancying the Doctor?

When did Dan talk to the Doctor about fancying Yaz?

Who was the Doctor’s wife?

[tsuki-sennin]

Jya-Jya-Jyamato Grand Prix!

They're mean and green! And they are mad!

Spoilers, I guess...

-Lots of Jyamato Folk.

-Game Master Beroba!

-"She's like... super dangerous, man."

-She cray-cray.

-Now I don't mean to insult all the teenage girls out there with world-conquering desires, but Beroba is like

-The objectively funniest Rider villain we've had in a while.

-I believe the youngest female Rider, and she gets not only a CGI monstrosity form, but also an entire army of demons.

-"You were the finest of your age, my children!"

-Phantoms, Gurongi, and Invess, all in one.

-Kamen Rider Buffa was created by the vile Desire Grand Prix in order to exterminate the Jyamato. To this end, he stands as a champion of the Jyamato.

-I hope you realize I live for this theming.

-Jesus Christ, she's making him play dress up.

-"Where ya goin, Michinaga?"

-Ohhhhhhhhhhh, that's a nasty trick

-"Good luck... Jyamato Rider Buffa."

-Gonna be honest, if the Jyamato weren't killing random humans for Beroba's amusement, I'd almost be rooting for them to take down Niram.

-"It'll be like Tohru-kun never died~!"

-Michinaga, you're in real nasty shit.

-"Not playing?"

-"Nah. Not a Jyamato, sadly. Honestly, it's kinda discriminatory of them. I wanna kill those DGP fuckers as much as they do!"

-"Human or Plant Zombie. Rider-kind's extermination is my only wish. ...that might include you, just a warning."

-Festival~!

-This looks awful fun.

-Ahhh, a little lad! Ready to have fun at the festival soon~!

-Awwww.

-"...those aren't oni."

-Lighting strikes the town~!

-Matsuri, matsuri DEATH!

-Hot damn, Keiwa! Letting them know straight up.

-"This is real!"

-"Ultimate Despair strikes this poor festival town. Yet here come the Riders!"

-Ah yep, there he is. Buffa Deez Nuts.

-Well, this is a fine mess we find ourselves in.

-Ya girl Neon!

-Ohhhh, Zombie Beat

-...does that technically make her Lord Raptor?

-Round 1 is over, bitches!

-It's the DGP's fault the Jyamato even want to kill humans so I don't blame Michinaga at all for wanting to can it, but like...

-Man, revenge is a hell of a drug.

-"...do you want us to help? :)"

-Designed?

-Ohhhhhh, I see... completely predetermined in the future, huh?

-"The hell's a festival, boy?"

-Oh... that's... kinda depressing, Kekera-san.

-And there he is, Kyuun the creepshow.

-"WORMY!?"

-Takahashi, I swear, if this dude's Neon's Prince Charming, I'm gonna shit.

-Hey, we're all in the 10%~! We got in early!

-Ah, Papa Kurama.

-No amount of money in the world's gonna be enough to keep us quiet.

-OHHHHHHH SNAP

-Niram-P!

-OHHHHHHH HE GOT NEON FROM THE GODDESS

-...unless, he's speaking metaphorically?

-Hey little dude. You seem awfully unreceptive to Ace motherfucking Ukiyo, biggest movie star in the world. That whole thing about your mom must really be eatin' you up inside.

-"Yeah... I feel you..." :(

-Ah, so Tohru-san's got a past.

-Azuma's got no time for all this nonsense.

-Archimedel's ready to bring the thunder!

-Hit the beat! Keep the beat!

-"Ace and Azuma, together at last!"

-Ziin, I swear, your fanboying's the least help we've been getting from you.

-Secret Mission, Clear!

-Wow, that was pathetically easy. These achievements are really getting out of hand.

-OHHHHH FUCK HE'S GOT THE RAISE SWORD

-OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL

-MICHINAGA YOU MAD MAN

-"Well played, nerd."

-OH YOU BITCH

-BOOOST

-MARK II

-Hot damn, that bitch is orange.

[som3guy]

Tell me your interests *Blink blonk* :]

guuuuuhhhh at the moment I’ve been in interest purgatory (only having day long hyperfixations besides a few personal projects) but the little interests I’ve had (and some of the overarching ones) aaare:

-writing!!! I’ve loved writing ever since I was a little lad (and not very good at it) I’ve just got a lot of stories to tell and a lot of works I like to edit. I like to think I’m good at critique and storytelling maybe

-My Life the Musical by Maryrose Wood (it’s a book) THIS HAD SO MUCH POTENTIAL I THINK ABOUT IT EVERY DAY!!!!! Looping back to writing I’ve been working on rewriting this because it’s genuine insanity but it had so much potential to be great

-Bronies: the Musical (this time an actual musical) it’s all Instagram’s fault really if they didn’t put the song Sad Trombone up then I wouldn’t have started deep diving. It’s like a music lovechild of Rockabye and Be More Chill with the plot of that one Shrek the Musical song (which is to say, let your freak flag fly)

-Vast Error is kind of a reoccurring one that comes back to haunt me every so often (along with its predecessor…) because I like the art and the writing! It’s a bit of an exposition slog sometimes but overall the art is aesthetically pleasing and it’s always a fun reread

-object shows HEAR ME OUT sorry guys I’ve returned to my roots (middle school) because I’ll think for a second and then I’ll blank out and all of a sudden BFDI is playing and I’m drawing objects with limbs like I’m a seventh grader again. Yay!

-video essays, not really a standard interest but I just like watching and writing them what can I say

-theatre!!! Every time I find a new thing to perform in it’s always on my mind for the entire duration of it. (Instrumental music is in the same boat here)

-of Montreal (like the music artist) I have NOT been able to stop listening to their early albums I am SUCH a huge fan they are so whimsical I highly recommend Cherry Peel, The Gay Parade, and Coqueliot Asleep In The Poppies: A Variety of Whimsical Verse

-Gezebelle Gaburgably, also a music artist I couldn’t get them out of my head for WEEKS like I went on a spree and exclusively listened to Gezebelle for a while. Same thing happened with speedcore/gabber (SPECIFICALLY the “furry” speedcore/gabber (femtanyl, mailpup, etc) because DAMN they can make music) last week

-music in general actually I’m such a music fan I love songs and leitmotifs and all the silly things

-Celeste (game) I love a good platformer that I’m super bad at with an underlying transgender message. Hell yeah.

-horror as a genre it captivates me I strive to be a good horror writer one day even if I never publish anything

-news and journalism DESPITE how much I dunk on my journalism class (iykyk) I LOVE news and I love learning about current events and formulating opinions and politics and stuff

-any book I’ve read in the past month that I enjoyed. So like Perks of Being a Wallflower, Read Between the Lines, MLTM (to an extent), and maybe some others. Just NOT Romeo and Juliet I know it’s a play but I HATED it so much I had to read it for a class it made me want to rip my hair out

-obscure media. Don’t go around calling me a quirkster because I say I like obscure things, they just float to me. I’m like that meme of Marge Simpson holding a potato, I just think they’re neat. The way I worded it is also an oversimplification cuz I don’t like it for the obscurity this is just so it lumps everything together so you don’t have to read more because I am a gabber and will not shut up if given the opportunity

Guuuuhhhh sorry this was a lot of yammering on my end

[racingliners]

F1 Re-Watch 2022: Round 9 - Canada

Ah, the return to Circuit Gilles Villeneuve (beloved)!

I find it ironic that I’m calling this series/thing/me yelling into the abyss a re-watch when I did not watch that much of C4s Highlights shows last year, but anyway. So again, I don’t remember much from Montreal, mainly drama about Seb’s helmet, Merc porpoising and Alonso’s penalty debacle.

So, on we go!

Amazon was the race’s title sponsor? ew

I’ve been saying this a lot to pals, but when will Pirelli drop the C1, C2 nonsense and bring back the tyre rainbow???

ouch. Seb’s in P16. AMR22 WHY

Mick in P6 and Lewis in P4 though!!!!

ALONSO IN P2??????

????????

oh quali was wet, that makes a little more sense

[Formation Lap]: That was the slowest/worst FL I have ever seen, lads what were you doing sdohgeso

[Start/Lap 1]: oh my days Lewis and Kev racing at the start, spicy

Verstappen, Fernando and Sainz just driving off unbothered leaving everyone else to fight over crumbs

ayyy Seb up one place I’ll take it

[Lap 3]: Sainz thinking about racing Fernando. Spanish on Spanish violence. Will they stay on each other’s Christmas card list? More at 10.

oh Sainz got past with DRS. that wasn’t as violent as I was expecting.

[Lap 4]: How can Esteban see Kevin’s front wing damage from two cars back??? F1 drivers are something else man

[Lap 6]: Seb pitting already??? What did AM have for lunch???

I also completely glossed over Leclerc being at the back of the field, he’s up into P15 though!

[Lap 8]: oop Perez’s car went poof

aaaaand VSC

[Lap 11]: Sainz is leading???

[Lap 12]: oh no not Lewis on Esteban violence again

oh thank goodness it was a clean pass

[Lap 13]: Crofty rooting for Mick to (finally) get his first points 🥺. He has one right.

Leclerc into P13, man’s zooming.

[Lap 14]: Albon in P10??? Pet power!!

[Lap 15]: Four car battle for P10? Midfield spice I adore you

[Lap 17]: Man Albon’s defending is superb, Val is just not getting past him.

[Lap 18]: Aaaand he just got triple passed by Val and Leclerc. It was fun while it lasted.

“Don’t think this can be an easy win for the Red Bull driver” Crofty please stoop drinking the delusion juice.

[Lap 20]: Mick NOOOOOOOOO 😭

Seb stopped again????? AM besties what are we doing????

oh, Mick had a mechanical issue. I will be taking a sledgehammer to the VF-22 right after the W13

[Lap 21]: Lewis v Sainz you say? 👀

Every time they cut to the wall of champions camera I get v stressed

ugh you can really see the cars bouncing up and down on the straight. not fun.

Oh dear. McLaren pitstop clownery. Germany 2019 flashbacks.

OH Charles’ pass on Bottas though.

[Lap 23]: Oh thank goodness it was easy for Lewis to get past Fernando, my blood pressure would not have taken then racing each other well.

Helmet watch: Zhou back with the pretty porcelain pattern helmet 😍👌

[Lap 25]: aw Lance in the points at his home race!!!

Seb watch: He’s in P14. After all those pitstops I’m not surprised 😭

[Lap 27]: How does Fernando have any tyres left considering he hasn’t stopped yet???

v wild he’s still in P4

[Lap 29]: Oh finally he remembered where the pitlane is

Charles: I don’t have grip!! Ferrari: Read at 15:25

(truly thank goodness Rueda is no longer in charge of Ferrari’s strategy)

[Lap 30]: tbh I’d kind of forgotten Verstappen was still there

[Lap 33]: Meanwhile Lance still hasn’t pitted??? What was going on at the AM pitwall????

“I’ve got an idea for a book: Lando Norris and Alex Albon’s sad Canadian Grand Prix stories” and this is why I pick in the international feed on F1 TV ty Ted

[Lap 36]: Lance still heading the P9 train

“We are thinking Plan D” “Whatever” Big mood Charles. Colossal mood.

[Lap 39]: Am I being delusional or is Seb catching up to Dan??

Yeah the gap went from 1.9 to 1.3. Let’s get it!!!

It... being 12th place. I will take it.

[Lap 42]: Charles finally pits. And it’s a slow stop to boot. Clowneria Ferrari continues.

And he’s at the back of the Stroll train. I feel like this race almost sums up his 2022 season.

[Lap 44]: heh. Lewis got past Verstappen as he came out the pits. It’s not gonna last but I’ll take the lap count irony.

[Lap 47]: Finally a Seb sighting!!! Albeit v brief 

And Charles gets past Zhou

Finally, there’s my boy!!!! Chasing Tsunoda for P12

[Lap 48]: Lance FINALLY pits. As does Yuki, Seb into P11!!!

OH SHIT Yuki crashed coming out the pits

[Lap 49]: Safety Car time (AM SC my beloved!!)

Seb still has 20 laps to do on a set of Hards 😭

[Lap 50]: oh that was a nice double stop from Alpine

[Lap 52]: FINALLY a Seb and Chris team radio followed by Lewis and Bono thank you for the crumbs F1

And a Bono sighting. ty global feed 🤍.

[Lap 53]: Seb in P9 but on on 30ish lap old hard tyres. *distressed noises*

[Lap 55]: Not even a hint of spice at the SC restart. smh.

Seb still in P9 though 🤞

Seb v Zhou??? idk if I can take it.

[Lap 56]: 15 laps left arghhhhh idk if his tyres will hold.

[Lap 57]: And Zhou passes Seb, not that surprising given Seb’s tyres

oh shit Sainz on Verstappen violence??? Is it 2015 Toro Rosso again????

[Lap 58]: Seb down into P11. Damn you 38 lap old hards.

[Lap 59]: Lewis vibing while Sainz and Verstappen think about murdering each other, an unbothered King.

[Lap 60]: Potential engine problem for Fernando???

(unrelated but I paused to get some chocolates for the last 10 laps, please be spicy)

[Lap 63]: Lance got past Seb, I’ll be taking a sledgehammer to those tyres once I’m done with the Haas and W13 (not you Lance you’re great)

Not Seb and Lance being investigated after the race for a SC infringement 😭 boys WHY????

idiots (affectionate) both of you

[Lap 65]: Also this battle for the lead was not worth getting Ferrero Rocher out for smh.

[Lap 66]: If I was to rate the space level this is a solid chicken korma

oop. Fernando wanting to incite some Alpine violence. #JustFernandoThings

[Lap 67]: aevherufhe Ted saying Verstappen has to be careful at the last chicane bc he’s a world champion now WHEEZE

Potential 6th RBR race win in a row??? It’s only sexy when Seb does that.

[Lap 69]: Gap down to under a second though 👀

[Lap 70]: I kinda feel like this battle is done, Sainz just isn’t close enough.

[Finish]: Anyway Lewis in P3 wooo!!!!

whew Charles made it P5 in the end. Once again having Ferrari’s braincell.

Well, that was a race. Bit of a slow burn but didn’t quite deliver in the end, and we had some midfield spice, but not quite enough for me. It again felt more like a strategy race than a race race, especially with all the safety cars.

6 and a half front wings out of 10. Next race: Silverstone!!

[windviator]

4 formal bows + 1 cheeky one

[cazimagines]

Born to be wild - Chapter 1

Synopsis: Joining F1 as one of the first female drivers you knew was going to be a challenge but you weren't prepared to deal with one particular asshole on the tracks. With the urge to win so strong within each racer, will romance pave the way? Or will it destroy everything?

Word count: 2.6k

Author’s note: And away we go! First chapter lads. This is a long series so a lot of building up to do so stick around. Idk how frequent updates will be but I will try to make them quite frequent

Warnings: Reference to misogyny, swearing

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Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

You were here.

Finally, after years of preparation, years of people, men, telling you that you couldn’t do it. That racing was a man’s sport, that a woman could never have the same skills, drive and determination that men had when it came to racing. That you just couldn’t do it. Now you stood here, feet on the warm cement, eyes glimmering with excitement as you looked over the F1 banner, ready to enter the garage for the first time, ready for qualifying for tomorrows race.

The first female F1 driver.

Ever since you were a little girl you had the need for speed. You created your own go-carts out of spare bits and bobs your father had from his garage. You raced the other neighbour’s kids down the street to see who would win and be crowned the coolest kid around. The way the wind flew through your hair, the feeling of it rushing past your face, seeing everything move slowly and fastly at once, it was intoxicating for you. When you first found out about Formula 1, it was still in its early days and people often would take the mick out of it, your parents included but you badgered them constantly to take you to a race, and finally, after years of begging they gave in and took you to see it seeing how your heart was set upon it.

After watching the race you had instantly turned around to them and told them that was what you wanted to do. You wanted to be an F1 racer. They tried to persuade you to seek a different job, a respectable one for a lady such as a secretary. They even suggested that you could be a secretary for an F1 team, but that wasn’t what you wanted and you would never feel that satisfaction in life if you weren’t within that seat, if you hand wasn’t on that wheel, if you weren’t crossing that finishing line.

It had been a rough start. No one wanted to hier you as they thought you would be nowhere near as successful as a man could be. Time and time again you were trying to apply for test outs and met with rejections at every corner to the point where you even considered just throwing your hat in. Would you be spending your whole life just trying to get in but being denied all the time just because you were born a woman. But when you were at your lowest you were met with a shining light. One team wanted to try you out. They made no promises but they were willing to give you a try, and that was all it took.

Once you were out on the tracks you could show off your skill, your ability to make quick decisions, how you were able to work the car to how you wanted it and no one could deny after that, you were a dam fine driver. You were taken on and started racing in small F3 races, in the hopes that a bigger company might spot you and choose to get you into F1, and after a few years of waiting, it happened. You were signed on.

A lot of other people from F3 were in an uproar about it, claiming you did all sorts of things to get in, claiming it was only for diversity but at this point, you didn’t care. Everything you had ever wanted was coming true. Your whole dream was becoming a reality and now there was only one last step for you. To win the championship.

You had been signed on to the F1 team, ‘Tyrrell-Ford’ and previously a week ago you had met your new teammate, Patrick Depailler. You had been worried about how his reaction might have been to you, fearing the man might have felt offended merely by your presence but he had been exceedingly nice to you and quickly your fears disappeared into excitement for getting to work with him.

You could see him now, coming out of your shared garage, holding up his hand in greeting and smiling politely at you. He wore a blue boiler suit, similar to yours, he had a white turtle neck under which just about poked out of his suit. His hair was cut short and stuck to his head in sweat from the warmth of the day but still, you could see the slight curls within the hair. He had a more prominent jawline than some men but his most distinctive feature upon his face was his large nose. You strolled over meeting him halfway and his grin grew as he placed a firm hand upon your shoulder, shaking you slightly.

“You’re first time on the grounds here in Brazill huh? How you feel?” he asked, his french accent heavily accentuated as his hand, tightly grasping your shoulder makes you walk beside him as he leads you to the main area.

“Amazing, I feel so excited being able to be here and I just can’t wait to get in the car and get out on the course!” you eagerly told him, bouncing on your heels, making him chuckle.

“I still feel the same way after all these years. I haven’t been able to stand still yet. But all in due time. I think it’s time you meet the rest of the racers”

Your fist naturally clenches as sudden nerves light up within you, but you swallow trying to push them down. You were used to meeting new people and you had every right as they had to be there. There is nothing to worry about.

“How do you think, they will… you know”

His face turns to yours again and offers a sympathetic smile, knowing the struggles you’ve likely gone through already to be there. “Most of them? Won’t give two shits. All they will care about is if you can drive well. They are men though, especially one of them I’d advise keeping an eye on. He’s gained quite the reputation around other women” he begins to explain but cuts himself off as he chuckles. “There is, of course, the rat, but he’s an asshole to everyone so you need not worry about him”

“I assume the first one you are talking about is James Hunt, and the rat would be Niki Lauda,” you say, thinking back to all the research you had been doing on the racers who you would be joining on the tracks.

“Ah so you’ve done you’re research, smart girl. Yes, you’d be right, but the news doesn’t truly show you what it’s like to know these men. They’re likely not what you expect”

He then pauses again and huffs in a burst of slight laughter, “Or maybe they are exactly what you expect”

You both turn a corner and instantly you felt eyes gaze upon you as you reach the section where all the drivers were preparing to start the qualifying. Patrick still kept a firm hand upon your shoulder as he guided you around, introducing you to all the other racers. Some of them like Patrick were nice and wished you well for tomorrow, some of them were standoffish, hardly saying any words to you as they looked at you in distain, and then Patrick leads you over to the man who currently had his legs spread out on his seat and was flashing you one of his well-known grins as his shaggy blonde hair falls down over his face. His jawline was incredible and made you feel like you could cut yourself on how sharp it was. He was seen as Britain’s heartthrob and everywhere he went he had women drooling over him, and looking at him in person for the first time you could understand why.

“James Hunt, he needs no introduction,” Patrick says, motioning his hand to James and instantly he was off his seat and extending his hand for you to shake.

“I’ve always said we need more girls around and in the cars, I’m glad they are starting to listen,” he says shaking your hand firmly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you” you reply back, still almost in a daze, you were standing before the James Hunt.

“The pleasure is all mine love. I’m looking forward to getting to know you on the track” and then he pauses, and winks at you, “And off the track. I assume you’ll be attending all the parties. They are the best aren’t they Patrick”

“They are known to become quite a ruckus”

“But that’s all the fun! You’ll love them, you look like the kind of girl that would enjoy a party like that, uh?”

You almost mentally slapped yourself in realising you hadn’t even told him your own name yet, “Y/n, y/n, l/n”

“And that, is a beautiful name, like one of those greek goddesses”

You scoff though your lips twitch up into a smile. You cross your arms as you slowly start to grow used to what James is like, “And how many times do you repeat that to all the women you try to woe?”

James’s eyebrows furrow and he puts on a fake frown at your words, “I have you know, I have never said that to another woman before”

“Do you even know the names of the Greek goddesses?” Partick asks and James was quick to reply with “That is beside the point”

It causes the three of you to laugh though. Like you had seen in all the newspapers James was a flirt, a playboy, but he seemed like someone you could get along with, share a few jokes with and that you were looking forward to.

“You’d think with the amount of laugher here this wasn’t a place where people risk their lives and die”

James tilts his head back and lets out a groan of fake annoyance as he then turns around and you can see the man standing behind James, hand on hip looking extremely pissed off. His hair was a lot curlier than Patrick, and a lot thicker. It was chestnut brown with complimented his hazelnut eyes. His hair was all messy though, scattered across his forehead, the roots starting to become soken with sweat. While he didn’t have the cutting jawline that James possessed which drew women wild, his cheeks bones were more pronounced likely due to the most distinctive feature which was his overbite. His lips covered most of it but still, you could see his two front teeth slightly, which had earned him the nickname, the rat.

“Well, well if it isn’t the rat” James states, sucking his lip onto his top teeth to imitate Niki’s overbite in an attempt to make you laugh.

“Do I have to tell you every time, I don’t mind being called a rat. Rats are smart-”

It seemed as if Niki was going to continue talking but James cut him off again, leaving Niki to suck his cheeks in, in annoyance.

“Why are you here Niki, can’t you bugger off somewhere else”

“I came to see what was causing a buzz in everyone. I don’t understand the excitement”

James steps aside so Niki could see you clearly and Patrick finally takes his hand off your shoulder to introduce you to him.

“Niki, this is y/n, she’s Tyrell-Ford’s new racer”

Niki scoffs, his eyes looking you up and down in distain. “Everyone knows Tyrell is crap”

Patrick’s kind smile falters, a usual grimace that usually appears when talking to Niki arrives on his face instead. “Yes thank you for your opinion, Niki, we all really needed to hear it”

“You’re welcome. Still, I don’t see what all the fuss is. When other drivers join you couldn’t give two craps James, only when you have the chance of getting your dick wet are you suddenly alert”

James’ fists clenched as his face reddens and he takes a stride towards Niki, ready to go for a blow till Patrick steps between them trying to calm down the situation. “He’s only trying to aggravate you to throw you off your game before qualifying James”

“He’s a cunt, and needs a punch right in that ugly face of his” James seethes, taking one last glance between you, Patrick and Niki then storming off to try and cool down. You on the other hand were glaring daggers into Niki, also angered by his rude remarks about you. Niki feels your gaze and his face turns to you again, matching your heated eyes with his ice-cold ones and he refused to break eye contact first.

“When they say you are an asshole, they really mean it huh” you finally spit out.

“I only say what is true, if that makes me an asshole then so be it.”

“I trust that means you don’t have many friends”

Niki tilts his head as he continues to observe you, “Why would I need friends? I’m happy as I am”

You could feel your irritation for him grow stronger and you open your mouth to continue arguing with Niki when another driver jogs up to him, placing his hand upon his shoulder, “Niki, the boss wants to talk to you”

Niki frowned, in confusion and annoyance but shoved his hands in his pockets, mumbling under his breath about how he had seen the boss only half an hour ago. He took a few steps away before pausing and throwing you another look over his shoulder, his lips still cast in a frown “Good luck for tomorrow. You will need it”

You sucked on your bottom lip, trying to not shout back at him and give him the satisfaction of an answer. When he was a safe distance however you muttered under your breath “What a dick”

“I’m sorry about that y/n, but he’s like that with everyone, it’s best to ignore it,” Patrick tells you, shooting you an apologetic glance before turning to the other man. “What did the boss want with Niki?”

“Oh nothing, I just said that so he would go away”

The man cracked a smile and held his hand out to you for you to shake, “I’m Clay Regazzoni, Niki’s teammate”

The swiss man had tanned skin, a bushy moustache and long dark hair but his features were kind and certainly appeared a lot friendlier than his teammate.

“Niki’s teammate? I don’t know how you cope with that” you say shaking his hand back.

He grins at your statement, clicking his mouth as if thinking, “Alcohol, a lot of alcohol”

And with the removal of Niki’s presence, the laughter was brought back to the atmosphere.

“But really, Niki, he says what’s on his mind, and usually all shit and not worth listening to, but he’s an okay guy when you get to know him, you just have to put up with his bad days” Clay finally says as the three of you are able to control your laughter again.

“Which are most days” Patrick finishes.

Clay took a glance over to the direction where Niki had gone five minutes ago and with a nod of his head bit the two of your farewell, claiming he should leave before Niki gets back demanding to know why he had lied to him. Now you had met all the drivers, Patrick leads you back over to your shared garage, and with an excited smile, he lifted up the gate for you to be able to take a look at your new car. It was dark blue with your number and name pressed onto the side surrounded by a few sponsorship brands. Your heart nearly skipped a beat as your eyes widened in excitement.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

You smile, your eyes never leaving the car, “I was born ready”

TAGS: @lieutenantn @greeneyeblondie44 @lorna-d-m @cable-kenobi @zemosimp05 @edencherries @hofficoffi @somethingthatsaysbubbles @apparrio @vverliebt @shadowycollectiveduck @alindeluce @scuttle-buttle @handmaiden-of-mischief @rumblelibrary @nyx2021 @fictionlandslanddreams

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[hostess-of-horror]

To Lift One's Spirits

Boy, it’s been a while since my last Phantom x Peach story, hasn’t it? Well, this time it’s going to be Christmas themed! What better way to celebrate such a wonderful holiday by writing a story about a ghost and his lovely little girlfriend?

Fun Facts about Christmas: 

- One of the biggest Christmas traditions that was celebrated during the Victorian Era was telling ghost stories. Unlike the American depictions of Christmas, Victorian Era Christmases were more spookier due to many European influences on superstition and magic. People would huddle around a warm fireplace and recite stories about haunted houses and ghastly ghouls. This tradition became widely spread once the Industrial Revolution came around and revitalized such tales. Charles Dicken’s "A Christmas Carol" is a great example of this tradition.

- While many are more familiar with benevolent figures like Santa Claus (or St. Nicholas), there are about a dozen of creepy monsters and unsettling beings connected to the holidays. These monsters are often depicted as punishers, seeking out naughty children while good children are gifted with presents. Such characters include: Krampus (Austria/Central Europe), Frau Pertcha (Austria/Germany/Italy), the Yule Lads (Iceland), Gryla (Iceland), Jolakotturinn or the Christmas Cat (Iceland), Hans Trapp (France), and Père Fouettard (France).

- Before the holiday became known as Christmas, Christmas was once called Yuletide. Yuletide was a Pagan seasonal holiday celebrated by pre-Christian Germanics, and was often referred to an old Norse tradition during the month of December. This Pagan tradition is a 12 day long celebration starting with the eve of Winter Solstice (December 21st)!

To @salamifuposey, @strawbunniiee, and to everyone else who wants to read it! Have yourselves a wonderful Christmas, Happy Holidays, Yuletide Greetings, and a happy Winter Solstice!

[The Mushroom Kingdom became much colder than everyone thought it would be. Winter blanketed the houses and streets with thick sheets of glistening snow. What was once the scenic landscapes of autumn is now a world of ice. The winds grew strong as temperatures dropped, chilling the brisk air. Large snowflakes soared and flew, riding the winds before landing delicately on snowy hills and frosted windows. Huddled inside their homes, the citizens of the Mushroom Kingdom wasted no time in welcoming the new season. To the young ones, snow meant holiday fun - and they were right! Fireplaces were lit, warm cups of cocoa filled their bellies, children played games, and families gathered close to warm up for the night. The same can be said for the Mushroom Castle. Inside the castle, the servants and staff all came together, enjoying the weather from out the windows while keeping the place from freezing. Soon, the clouds parted as night approached, revealing a illuminous crescent moon way up in the black sky. One of the maids looks out through the window.]

Stella (Maid #1): *sighs* “It looks so beautiful...”

Gertrude (Maid #2): *dusting a vase* “Oh, it is quiet lovely, innit?”

Stella: “I don’t believe we were expecting this much snow.”

Gertrude: “We weren’t! Earlier ago was perhaps the biggest snowstorm I’ve ever seen.”

Stella: “Mine too.”

Gertrude: “Times like these remind me of my days as a little girl. My family and I would sit around near the fireplace and each one of us would tell ghost stories while the winds blew on.”

Stella: “Ghost stories? During this time of the year?”

Gertrude: “Yes! We still do to this day. You see, older holiday traditions were deeply rooted in the existence of spirits and other creepy creatures. When winter comes, the trees, the grass, every plant life dies, and so the world becomes a place fit for ghosts and goblins. It is the only time when the barrier between our world and the next becomes thinner than before.”

Stella: “Wow... I didn’t know that.”

Gertrude: “The old ways have become a thing in the past nowadays, but they are not forgotten. With each generation, more families would rather be merry than scare others with such frightful tales. Not that I’m complaining, of course."

Stella: “Heh, nights like this would be the perfect setting for a ghost story...”

Gertrude: “Indeed.”

[The winds whistle, blowing bits of snow up into the brisk, chill air. Stella watches as snowflakes dance as soft flurries. She can now see why the old tales of spirits were so prevalent during the winter. As she admires the weather, Stella hears a strange sound. It was not a whistle... but it was harmonizing with the winds.]

Stella: “Did you hear that?”

Gertrude: “I did.”

Stella: “What was that?”

Gertrude: *amused* “It must be the spirits, love. They do like hearing us talking about them.” 

[Meanwhile, in her chamber, Princess Peach sits comfortably in her armchair, cozy by the fire. A soft, furry shawl wraps around her shoulders and arms and in her hands is a hot cup of tea. She looks up at her window; the sound of the whistling wind caught her attention. Soon, she hears a distant, harmonizing melody along with the wind. Peach gets up from her seat and walks towards the window. She listens closely. She smiles... she knows whose voice that is. Her finger traces the cold window pane, drawing a small heart. A few seconds later, a larger heart is drawn from the outside by something invisible. The blizzard outside then reveals a mitten-like paw reaching out and placing itself where Peach's hand is at.]

Peach: *smiling warmly* "I love you too, Phantom..."

[Out from the darkness, a familiar face appears. His sapphire eyes glow, shimmering like the snowflakes falling from the sky. Slowly, Phantom's paw phases through the window and softly - gracefully - caresses Peach's cheek. Her face grows warmer by his touch, blushing immensely, as she slightly tugs his hand.]

Peach: "Why don't you come in? It's much warmer inside."

[Phantom phases through, accepting her invitation.]

Phantom: *grins* "Gladly..."

[He then pulls Peach in with a gentle kiss, his arms wrapped around her in a cozy embrace. Her shawl drops to the floor as she surrenders to her ghostly lover.]

[skeezsbbygirl]

peaches + bang chan (pt. 2)

Hello lovelies! (ಥ﹏ಥ)

in celebration of 500+ followers, here is a part two for ‘peaches’!!! thank you so much for the love uwuuu <3 hope you guys enjoy!

STREAM GOD’S MENU AND VOTE FOR OUR BOYS.

“Juno!” you called for your soon-to-be three year old daughter.

You were picking out clothes for her to wear on her special day, but she had other priorities, sneaking out of her room when she knew you were preoccupied with searching for a pair of shoes that would suit her dress.

“Juno, baby, come on,” you urged, a sigh escaping your lips as you searched her playroom and found nothing. A fit of giggles echoed through the halls, rooting from yours and Chris’ shared room, and upon hearing your daughter’s outburst of happiness, you ambled towards the room, her clothes still within your possession.

You smiled at the sight that welcomed you. Chris had Juno on his shoulders, bouncing her up and down, mimicking lines from an animated movie that they watched last night. Seeing them together reminds you of just how much Juno resembled her father, right from her brown curly locks down to the dimples that adorned her chubby flushed cheeks. You could faintly trace your features on her, but Chris begged to differ, insisting that Juno had your sweet smile and your doe eyes.

“Alright, fun’s over,” you announced, making them turn towards to where you were standing. “But mom,” Juno pouted, still settled within her dad’s arms. “You heard the queen,” Chris joked as he nuzzled his nose on Juno’s cheeks, peppering them with soft kisses while he was at it. “Dad, stop,” Juno giggled, pushing Chris’ face away with her small hands. 

“Alright, princess. Go get dressed with mommy,” Chris said as he gently settled Juno down, giving you a quick kiss on his way to leave the room to check on the preparations for the party. Your daughter immediately sauntered towards you, clad in her white shirt and black leggings, giving you a kiss on the cheek as you squatted down to meet her eyes.

“Let’s wear the dress, yeah?” you beamed at Juno, who enthusiastically agreed. You helped her slip into the dress, fixing the white ribbon that decorated her torso and tugging at the hem of her dress to fix any folds and creases. You tucked some of her curls behind her ears in order to give light to her features.

“Mom,” Juno spoke. You hummed in response, prompting her to go on. “Is Jae-oppa coming?” she asked. You let out a soft chuckle, amused at how Juno has grown shy the moment she questioned you about Minho’s boy -- Jaehyun, who was two years older than your daughter.

“Yes, he is, baby,” you confirmed. “And all your uncles too,” you added, which earned you a cheer from Juno.

After an hour or so, you finally got yourself and Juno ready. You headed downstairs, with Juno holding your right hand. The both of you sauntered towards the backyard and as you opened the glass door that led you outside, Juno squealed in bliss, awestruck at the sight of her party.

Upon hearing your daughter’s shrieks of excitement, Chris ambled towards her and showed her around.

Pastel colored balloons and streamers were everywhere, white table cloths were draped over round tables accentuated by pink and white roses that were beautifully arranged in glass jars, and fairy lights decorated the main table which held Juno’s birthday cake alongside trays of various sweets. The long buffet tables were soon filled with food as the caterers started arranging the dishes.

There was no hiding the fact that Chris spoils you and Juno a lot. He makes it his top priority to provide for both of your needs and wants -- even the most outrageous requests of Juno wanting to have her own outdoor playhouse. When Chris was away for work, he always made sure to call his favorite girls, checking in on you and Juno throughout the day. He was always there for the both of you and he makes his efforts known by showering you with a ton of affection and gifts.

After a while, guests started coming in and both you and Chris busied yourselves with catching up and thanking them for coming. 

“There’s the birthday girl!”

Juno ran towards the owner of the voice.

“Uncle Felix!” she greeted. Felix squatted down, holding his arms open for Juno as she embraced him. Felix held her in his arms as he got up, kissing her cheek in the process. “Happy birthday, princess,” he said and Juno thanked him, before politely asking to be put down, running off towards the bouncy castle at the far end of the yard with Chris’ younger brother.

“The beautiful creators,” Felix joked as gave you and Chris a hug. “How’s everything?” he asked. “So far, so good,” you answered and Chris nodded in agreement. “I’m glad to hear that. So, any plans for baby number two?” he teased, earning him a light slap on the arm from you. “Lix,” you playfully glared at the male, to which he responded with a laugh. 

Chris gave him a high-five. “Trust me, bro. I’ve been hinting at it for months now,” he commented. You shook your head at their playful antics. “We’ll think about it,” you said.

Honestly, you’ve been thinking about wanting to have another baby, more so when Juno was asking you for a sibling and Chris was dropping hints all around, ever since Changbin’s wife gave birth to a beautiful baby boy seven months ago.

“Fine, but it would be cute to have another little boy, or girl, around,” he stated, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. 

You fell into another line of conversation, but you guys were interrupted by a chorus of hollers that sounded all too familiar -- one that you have been hearing for years.

“Hyung!”

“(Y/n)!”

You and Chris took turns as the both of you welcomed them with hugs. 

“Hi, Seojun,” you cooed at Changbin’s son, who was nestled within his mother’s arms. “He’s precious,” you said, caressing Seojun’s cheek with the back of your index finger, which earned you a gummy smile from him. “Can I hold him?” you asked Luna. “Of course,” she nodded and carefully handed Seojun over to your possession. 

You called Chris over as you bounced Seojun on your hip. “Hey, bud,” Chris smiled, letting out baby noises to which Seojun responded with incoherent babbles. “Juno’s going to be all over him once she sees him,” Chris spoke as he took a glance at your face. Radiant and beautiful as ever, he thought.

“I know, she’s been asking for a sibling for months now,” you replied. “More reason to add another member to our family,” Chris stated as he leaned in to give your forehead a kiss, his silent way of asking you to think about it. You offered Chris a sweet smile, “We’ll see, babe.”

Seojun let out a soft whine, his arms extending towards where his mom stood. You quickly walked over to Luna and handed him over. “Go on and grab a seat, I’ll go and get Juno,” you said and Luna nodded with a smile.

Your eyes scanned through the crowd and soon after, you finally spotted Juno.

“Juno, honey!” you called out for her and she turned towards your direction. “Your uncles are here, come say hi, baby,” you beckoned her over. She obediently followed you, taking a hold of your pinky as you led her to the guys.

Upon her appearance, various greetings and compliments were thrown her way. She beamed in response, but as soon as she spotted Jaehyun, she shied away from them, opting to hide behind you. 

Chris’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion, uncertain of what -- well more of who -- made his daughter flustered. He followed her gaze and it landed on Minho’s boy, who was holding a small bouquet of roses. “Oh gosh,” he breathed out, which earned him a chorus of laughter.

“Juno, Jae-oppa is here,” you looked over to where she was, gently grabbing her arm to prompt her to show herself. Juno shook her head instead, “Don’t wanna.”

You let out a chuckle and picked her up. Juno wrapped her arms around your neck, burying her face into your hair as she resisted on showing her face. “Look, sweetie. Jae got you flowers,” you coaxed but she only let out a soft whine in response. “It’s roses, Juno,” you added, knowing that they were her favorite.

“Happy birthday, Juno,” Jae said as he approached the both of you. You squatted down to meet Jae’s level. Juno wiggled in your arms, turning her head sideways as she took a peek at the boy. Jaehyun flashed her a smile as he offered her the bouquet. “Go on, sweetheart,” you whispered to Juno, encouraging her to reach out to Jaehyun.

All of you watched in amusement as Juno gently took the bouquet from the older male, muttering a small ‘thank you’ in the process. 

“You’re welcome,” Jaehyun replied.

You let out a soft chuckle as you stood up with Juno in your arms. “Mommy, can I go play now?” Juno asked and you nodded, setting her down gently. “Go join her, Jae,” you gestured for Jaehyun to follow. You awed at the sight of Juno grabbing the boy’s hand and merrily running towards their friends.

“I mean, she got good taste,” Jisung joked and you all fell into a fit of laughter. “Ji, she’s three,” Chris defended, his protective side showing. “Exactly,” you noted, ambling towards Chris and wrapping your arms around his torso. “Which is why you shouldn’t take it too seriously, plus Jaehyun is a good kid,” you explained.

“Got it from me,” Minho chimed in. “Hyung, let’s not push it,” Changbin teased. Jeongin and Hyunjin immediately held Minho back from attacking the younger lad. 

Soon, their playful antics came to an end and it was time for Juno to blow out her birthday candles. 

“Happy birthday, Juno!” everybody greeted in unison, followed by applauds and cheers from the crowd. 

[A few hours later...]

You let out a soft sigh as you tucked Juno in, moving some of the stray curls away from her face. “Sweet dreams, my love,” you whispered and kissed her forehead. You switched her night light on as you made your way out of her room.

You walked across the hall and entered your bedroom. Upon your arrival, Chris looked up from his phone, flashing you a sweet smile and beckoning you over to where he sat on the bed. 

“Is Juno asleep?” Chris asked and you nodded in response as you eased yourself between his legs, snuggling further into his embrace. Chris held you close, planting a kiss on your cheek, then your nose, and finally your lips. “I figured, her eyes were getting sleepy when I was giving her a bath,” he chuckled. “I’m glad she had fun,” you claimed, “I can’t believe she’s already three,” you added.

“And crushing on Jaehyun,” Chris sighed, making you laugh in response. “Oh come on, babe. Let it go,” you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

“Thank you for everything, Chris,” you spoke after a moment of silence. “You do so much for us,” you continued. “No, baby. Thank you for everything,” he insisted, rubbing the small of your back. 

“You make me want to be a better person, a better husband, and a better father. I can’t imagine my life without the two of you in it,” he paused to take a better look at you, his brown orbs staring deeply into yours. “I will always be here to love you, to protect you, to make you happy, and everything else within my ability,” he continued.

“I love you so much,” you beamed, leaning in to give him a kiss. As you were about to pull away, Chris caught your lips and deepened the kiss, molding his lips with yours with such passion and longing. You slowly moved to straddle him, your lips still connected with his, and Chris wrapped his arms around your waist. 

The shared kiss was intense, yet it still held his affection for you. Chris pulled away from your lips, only to pepper kisses along your jawline, slowly moving down towards your neck. He sucked on the soft skin, stopping his actions once he left a deep red mark. 

Chris flipped you on your back, his body now on top of yours, but careful not to crush you underneath him. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you, (y/n).”

“I love you, too.”

The both of you stared lovingly into each other’s eyes, taking in each other’s presence.

“So about Juno’s wish for a sibling,” Chris hinted. You giggled as you lightly hit Chris’ arm.

“Well then, stop talking and get to work, babe.”

[justpan]

Title: Unwilling Bride

Summary: At last it is time for the battle between Pirates and Lost Boys.

Pairing: Peter x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31

Everything was on track.

The camp was moved, the fences were ready; even better, Tootles found a way to put them all on a single pulley system.

One rope cut and all the fences would drop down in sync, that meant that the archers wouldn’t need to waste arrows trying to trigger them each individually.

Peter made good on his word, he was watching the pirates, constantly. You wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t sleeping at all.

All he seemed to do was sit up in the tallest trees he could find, send his shadow to locate the enemy, and report his findings to Felix who was patrolling the new camp.

‘Any news?’ you asked as Felix approached you.

‘They are less than a day away from the battle ground.’

‘Finally, guess we’d better get our asses in gear, can’t be late for our own party.’ you smiled excitedly.

‘BOYS!!! GET READY, THE GAME IS ABOUT TO START!!!’ Pan yelled as he marched into the camp.

His back was straight and he had a glint in his eye, the smile on his face was shark like and dangerous.

Like the smile you saw the first day you met him, it was as if he was on top of the world.

‘You heard me didn’t you? Get to the battle ground, or you’ll miss all the fun!’ he shouted.

The boys cheered nice and loud, and almost instantly the camp was hectic.

Everyone was running around grabbing their weapons, already laced with dreamshade.

‘You ready squirrel?’ Rufio asked.

‘As ready as I can be, little bird.’ you smiled.

‘I bet I can take down more pirates than you.’ he grinned.

‘Oh, yeah? What’s the wager?’

‘How about...if I win we try to take things further.’ Rufio suggested.

Your breath got caught in your throat, you hadn’t expected that to be on his mind right before you ran into battle.

‘And if I win?’

‘Then...we’ll do whatever you want.’

‘And if I want to take things further...what then?’ you asked, a small smile pulling at your lip.

‘Then I guess it’s a win win for us.’

Well, it looked like you were both on the same page, you both wanted to. There was a battle hours away, and by the time you got back to your room the two of them would be bloody and exhausted.

You couldn’t think of a more perfect way to lose your virginity.

‘A win win.’ you smiled.

‘Yeah?’ Rufio asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.

‘Yes, really, I’m still gonna take out more geezers than you.’ you grinned.

‘We’ll see.’

‘Hey! Be cute later, we gotta get moving and fast.’ Felix said, dragging the two of you along with the others.

You quickly shook away your feelings and started getting mentally ready for the battle; you couldn’t afford any distractions. Because this wasn’t training, it was a real battle with an opponent that would kill you if you gave them the chance.

Everything needed to go right, the fences, the arrows, the fight. Most important was the feeling.

This fight needed to feel like a guaranteed win; every Lost Boy needed to believe they would live through this fight and every pirate they let live needed to feel like it was a mistake to challenge The Lost Boys.

Once you all arrived everyone got in position, you saw Rufio taking his place with the clubs, Felix with the clubs.

Pan was standing in the middle of the clearing, watching over everything.

You walked over to him, to go over everything one last time.

‘How long?’

‘They should be here in less than an hour.’ he replied.

‘Their numbers?’

‘Less than fifty.’

‘Good, we got the mass and the skills...but I feel like something is wrong.’ you said to yourself.

‘Whatever it is we have no time to dwell on it, get down.’ Pan said.

You nodded and used your magic to put a door into the hollow tree behind Pan, you stood there and charmed the door to close.

In the dark you made sure you still had enough room for your arms to move the way you needed to work your magic.

With that done you put up a spell on the bark in front of you so you could see the clearing.

It looked like everyone was in place, now it was just a matter of time.

You watched in anticipation as the quiet settled over the camp, all you heard was your own breathing.

At last you could hear a rustle from the trees, and watched as the pirates entered the clearing.

‘I take it you are not here to deliver a box of cakes.’ Pan said smugly.

‘No I’m not.’ the one you knew to be Captain Hook said in false politeness.

‘Then why are you and your friends here? Did you want to play a game?’

‘No games this time Pan.’

‘There’s always a game, and this one is called...Pirates and Hunters. You can be the pirates.’ Pan grinned before he whistled.

The arrow zipped through the air and like magic the fences dropped down and closed in the clearing.

Immediately the clubs and swords jumped out of the trees.

‘Let’s play!’ Pan yelled.

You watched the pirates pull out their swords and listened to their war cry as the much anticipated battle finally began.

All you wanted was to be in the middle of it, but you had to keep your eyes sharp, that was your job; make sure none of your own were killed in the scuffle.

So you watched every pirate and followed every arrow to make sure only pirates were hit by them.

At the left you saw Tootles fighting with one man while another was behind, his sword ready to stab the boy in the back so you shot out your hand and used your magic to yank the pirate all the way back to your tree.

His back hit the bark with a loud crack that came from either his skull or his spine cracking, either way he was certainly not getting up ever again.

Without taking a moment to think of the first man you’ve ever killed you got back to following the battle.

A few arrows were missing targets and planting themselves in trees and in the dirt, whenever you were sure no boys were in immediate danger you would take up the arrows and have them hit any pirates that were near it.

It seemed as if everything was going perfectly, only old fat bodies were on the ground and at least six were dropped by the fences.

You looked to your right and saw Rufio, he was fighting two pirates, moving so swiftly it looked almost graceful. He kicked one down then spun to bring his club down on the other and while he did that you dragged the other and slammed his head on one of the roots of your tree.

All of a sudden you heard a loud crash and the camp went silent.

One of the fences was blown to shreds, you could see a canon where the door once was and saw the last person you ever expected to see on a battlefield.

Wendy.

She was there with her hands tied in a way that kept them over her ears and covering her eyes.

A fat man with a red cap was beside her, with a sword to her throat.

‘Smee, good form.’ Hook said happily.

You looked to Pan and saw he was standing across from the captain, their swords still touching from when they had been battling.

‘Now...how about a new game? I call it Hostage.’

Pan was furious, but if he knew how to do anything it was how to compose himself.

‘That’s cheating.’

‘Pirates aren’t known for following rules. Now how about this we’ll give you your little girl, in exchange you grant us passage off this damned island.’ the pirate smiled.

The fat man in the red hat handed the crying girl to his captain who placed his hook to her throat.

‘If I don’t like the game?’

‘Then I’ll rip this girl’s heart out, in the bloody way. From my understanding she is rather important to you.’

‘It so happens she is.’

‘Take the deal.’ the one handed pirate offered.

‘Deal, there will be a portal just for you in the middle of the sea, but know that I will never open another portal for you again. You will be in the ground feeding the maggots in some boring realm before you ever see the alligator you want.’

‘Oh I will find him, now call off your dogs.’

You looked to Pan, looking for anything, any sign that he had a plan. A sure way to get Wendy away from the pirates and still win this battle.

There was nothing, no knowing smirk or calculating look in his eyes, he just looked furious. Angrier than you have ever seen him before, considering that at one point he had chased you through the woods that said something.

‘Game’s over boys, looks like pirates don’t play fair...bad form.’ he said.

One by one all the boys threw down their weapons and the archers stepped out from their hiding spots, but you stayed put.

You looked over, when you saw something red moving behind the canon that was still smoking behind the fairy tail captain.

Rufio.

He had his club raised high and eyes set on Hook’s head, in an instant you understood his plan, kill the pirate so Pan could get Wendy and we could get back to killing these old geezers.

But unfortunately you weren’t the only one who saw him.

Hook’s namesake was always polished, not for the sake of looks, but to see the reflections of things behind him. It was impossible to not notice such a loudly dressed lad.

Swift as wind he withdrew his hook from Wendy’s neck and before you could even scream in terror he had buried his hook in Rufio’s chest.

‘NO!’ you yelled.

The pirate removed his hook and let Rufio’s body drop to the ground.

You ran through the door of your tree and rushed to your boyfriend’s side, there was so much blood covering his chest you couldn’t see where the wound actually was.

‘No, no it’s OK. I can fix it.’ you said with shaking breath.

You tried to use your magic to heal him, but it wouldn’t work. Your hands were too unsteady and you couldn’t focus on how the body was meant to connect.

‘It’s...ok...Love y-you....’ Rufio choked out before his eyes lost focus and his body went limp.

‘No…’ you sobbed, you placed your forehead to his and tried to force him to be ok, or maybe to make yourself wake up.

Whatever you were trying to do didn’t matter because it didn’t work.

Felix was suddenly by your side, his eyes were wet, but he wasn’t crying.

He placed his hand on your shoulder and kneeled down with you over Rufio.

You didn’t notice it, but the camp had gone silent.

All these centuries of running wild on this island and killing any intruders and this was the first time they had ever lost one of their own.

‘No one else try anything, let me and my men go Pan.’ Hook said, removing the blindfold from Wendy's eyes and hands.

‘Leave the girl, and know that if I ever see you again, on this island or in any realm at all you will be as dead as that brother of yours.’ Pan spat out.

With tears in your eyes you watched the pirates retreat through the woods, a part of you wanted to burn the whole island down but you couldn’t.

Magic required a good amount of control, and you had never felt more unstable in your life.

You couldn’t stop the sobs that were spilling out of you or make your body stop shaking; there was only one thing in your mind.

Rufio was dead.

Your boyfriend had just died in your arms and there was nothing you could do about it no matter how strong your magic was.

Magic can do a lot but not that; dead is dead and it’s forever permanent.

‘(Y/N).’ Peter said solemnly.

‘I couldn’t save him, I saw him making his move and I didn’t stop him.’ you said around the lump in your throat.

‘We all saw him, and we all thought he could do it, it isn’t your fault.’ he said.

All at once it clicked in your head, like the last piece of a puzzle a thought formed in your mind.

Wendy.

‘You!’ you all but growled as you stood up and tackled the only other girl on the island to the ground.

‘You got him killed!’ you screamed in her tear streaked face as you wrapped your hands around her throat.

With all your strength you tried to crush her windpipe; if it was the last thing you did you were going to make her suffer for what she did.

‘(Y/N)!’ Peter yelled as suddenly you were yanked back, partially pulling Wendy with you, but eventually you lost your grip.

With a grunt and a thud that probably sounded worse than it actually felt you hit the ground.

‘I-I’m sorry!’ Wendy coughed, looking as pitiful and as helpless as the insect she was.

‘You will be, I’ll make you sorry!’ you spat as you struggled against the magic weight that was holding your body down.

‘Calm down.’ Peter said, his voice calm and clear as he stood over you.

‘Fuck calm! I want her dead!’

‘So do I.’ Felix said from beside Rufio’s body.

Felix closed his friend's eyes and looked up at his leader.

‘She betrayed us...Rufio is dead because her. She has been prancing through camp being as useless as a leech in dress and none of us said anything to you, but this.’ Felix said, standing up and pointing the body in front of him.

‘We can’t ignore this; and I won’t forgive it.’

More boys spoke in their agreement and soon they were all but spitting at the girl, the sight at one point would have disgusted you, but right now you just want to get up.

‘Quiet!’ Pan yelled, his voice strong and loud.

‘I know...the girl deserves to die, she deserves to die bloody. She is useless and no one likes her, not even me despite what I know you all think; but I still need her. We all do if we want to win the real game.’

The real game.

His master plan, the one he hadn’t even disclosed to you completely, all you knew was the goal, he needed Bae’s child; to get him he needed the Darling boys, and to keep them in line he needed Wendy.

Rufio was dead, his killers were on their way to freedom and all Peter, no not Peter, Pan cared about was his goal.

‘I hate you.’ you said, not even realizing you had said it.

You probably wouldn’t have even noticed your own voice if silence hadn’t become so heavy, as heavy as the weight that was no longer pinning you down.

Slowly you pulled yourself up and you looked at Peter, or Pan or whoever the hell the boy demon really was.

‘Rufio...he fought for you, he killed for you, and because of that stupid daffodil in a dress he died for you. You are so selfish and self concerned that you won’t even avenge him, won’t let me avenge him! He deserves that much!’ you cried.

‘(Y/N) I know right now it feels raw but-’

‘Not just now! I will never forgive this!’ you snapped.

You looked from him to Wendy and had to refrain from attacking her a second time.

‘Hide her, don’t ever let me see her face because if I do I will kill her...the same goes for you Pan.’

‘What are you saying?’ Peter asked, still masking his emotions in that way that not even you could see through it.

‘I’m saying that I hate you Peter Pan and if I ever see you again I will put you in the fucking ground...you and your little daffodil.’ you said.

Your eyes moved to the boys, the ones you had been laughing and training with for what must have been nearly a century now.

‘Only love for you all, if any of you ever find me I won’t be sore to see you; and if you’re following orders to find me I’ll fight you fair. Keep each other safe...since we can see vengeance is only priority in the right circumstance.’

You looked down at Rufio and again your vision was obstructed by tears.

‘Bury him by my tree, Felix.’

‘I will.’ your best friend without any hesitation

With that done you felt like you had said all you could say, so you turned away from all of them,

From Rufio’s body, your ex Peter Pan, the girl who’d gotten your boyfriend killed and all your friends too.

You look out at the woods and spare no time to think of all the dangers that hid behind the trees as you walked away from what was once your home.

[dailytomlinson]

A bathroom figures significantly in the origin stories of at least two classic One Direction songs. The first will be familiar to any fan: Songwriter and producer Savan Kotecha was sitting on the toilet in a London hotel room, when he heard his wife say, “I feel so ugly today.” The words that popped into his head would shape the chorus of One Direction’s unforgettable 2011 debut, “What Makes You Beautiful.”

The second takes place a few years later. Another hotel room in England — this one in Manchester — where songwriters and producers Julian Bunetta and John Ryan were throwing back Cucumber Collins cocktails and tinkering with a beat. Liam Payne was there, too. At one point, Liam got up to use the bathroom and when he re-emerged, he was singing a melody. They taped it immediately. Most of it was mumbled — a temporary placeholder — but there was one phrase: “Better than words…” A few hours later, on the bus to another city, another show — Bunetta and Ryan can’t remember where — Payne asked, maybe having a laugh, what if the rest of the song was just lyrics from other songs?

“Songs in general, you’re just sort of waiting for an idea to bonk you on the head,” Ryan says from a Los Angeles studio with Bunetta. “And if you’re sort of winking at it, laughing at it — we were probably joking, what if [the next line was] ‘More than a feeling’? Well, that would actually be tight!”

“Better Than Words,” closed One Direction’s third album, Midnight Memories. It was never a single, but became a fan-favorite live show staple. It’s a mid-tempo headbanger that captures the essence of what One Direction is, and always was: One of the great rock and roll bands of the 21st century.

July 23rd marks One Direction’s 10th anniversary, the day Simon Cowell told Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson that they would progress on The X Factor as a group. Between that date and their last live performance (so far, one can hope) on December 31st, 2015, they released five albums, toured the world four times — twice playing stadiums — and left a trove of Top 10 hits for a devoted global fan base that came to life at the moment social media was re-defining the contours of fandom.

It’d been a decade since the heyday of ‘N Sync and Backstreet Boys, and the churn of generations demanded a new boy band. One Direction’s songs were great and their charisma and chemistry undeniable, but what made them stick was a sound unlike anything else in pop — rooted in guitar rock at a time when that couldn’t have been more passé.

Kotecha, who met 1D on The X Factor and shepherded them through their first few years, is a devoted student of boy band history. He first witnessed their power back in the Eighties when New Kids on the Block helped his older sister through her teens. The common thread linking all great boy bands, from New Kids to BSB, he says, is, “When they’d break, they’d come out of nowhere, sounding like nothing that’s on the radio.”

In 2010, Kotecha remembers, “everybody was doing this sort of Rihanna dance pop.” But that just wasn’t a sound One Direction could pull off (the Wanted only did it once); and famously, they didn’t even dance. Instead, the reference points for 1D went all the way back to the source of contemporary boy bands.

“Me and Simon would talk about how [One Direction] was Beatles-esque, Monkees-esque,” Kotecha continues. “They had such big personalities. I felt like a kid again when I was around them. And I felt like the only music you could really do that with is fun, pop-y guitar songs. It would come out of left field and become something owned by the fans.”

“The guitar riff had to be so simple that my friend’s 15-year-old daughter could play it and put a cover to YouTube,” says Carl Falk

To craft that sound on 1D’s first two albums, Up All Night and Take Me Home, Kotecha worked mostly with Swedish songwriters-producers Carl Falk and Rami Yacoub. They’d all studied at the Max Martin/Cheiron Studios school of pop craftsmanship, and Falk says they were confident they could crack the boy band code once more with songs that recalled BSB and ‘N Sync, but replaced the dated synths and pianos with guitars.

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The greatest thing popular music can do is make someone else think, “I can do that,” and One Direction’s music was designed with that intent. “The guitar riff had to be so simple that my friend’s 15-year-old daughter could play it and put a cover to YouTube,” Falk says. “If you listen to ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ or ‘One Thing,’ they have two-finger guitar riffs that everyone who can play a bit of guitar can learn. That was all on purpose.”

One Direction famously finished third on The X Factor, but Cowell immediately signed them to his label, Syco Music. They’d gone through one round of artist development boot camp on the show, and another followed on an X Factor live tour in spring 2011. They’d developed an onstage confidence, but the studio presented a new challenge. “We had to create who should do what in One Direction,” Falk says. To solve the puzzle the band’s five voices presented, they chose the kitchen sink method and everyone tried everything.

“They were searching for themselves,” Falk adds. “It was like, Harry, let’s just record him; he’s not afraid of anything. Liam’s the perfect song starter, and then you put Zayn on top with this high falsetto. Louis found his voice when we did ‘Change Your Mind.’ It was a long trial for everyone to find their strengths and weaknesses, but that was also the fun part.” Falk also gave Niall some of his first real guitar lessons; there’s video of them performing “One Thing” together, still blessedly up on YouTube.

“What Makes You Beautiful” was released September 11th, 2011 in the U.K. and debuted at Number One on the singles chart there — though the video had dropped a month prior. While One Direction’s immediate success in the U.K. and other parts of Europe wasn’t guaranteed, the home field odds were favorable. European markets have historically been kinder to boy bands than the U.S.; ‘N Sync and Backstreet Boys found huge success abroad before they conquered home. To that end, neither Kotecha nor Falk were sure 1D would break in the U.S. Falk even says of conceiving the band’s sound, “We didn’t want it to sound too American, because this was not meant — for us, at least — to work in America. This was gonna work in the U.K. and maybe outside the U.K.”

Stoking anticipation for “What Makes You Beautiful” by releasing the video on YouTube before the single dropped, preceded the strategy Columbia Records (the band’s U.S. label) adopted for Up All Night. Between its November 2011 arrival in the U.K. and its U.S. release in March 2012, Columbia eschewed traditional radio strategies and built hype on social media. One Direction had been extremely online since their X Factor days, engaging with fans and spending their downtime making silly videos to share. One goofy tune, made with Kotecha, called “Vas Happenin’ Boys?” was an early viral hit.

“They instinctively had this — and it might just be a generational thing — they just knew how to speak to their fans,” Kotecha says. “And they did that by being themselves. That was a unique thing about these boys: When the cameras turned on, they didn’t change who they were.”

Social media was flooded with One Direction contests and petitions to bring the band to fans’ towns. Radio stations were inundated with calls to play “What Makes You Beautiful” long before it was even available. When it did finally arrive, Kotecha (who was in Sweden at the time) remembers staying up all night to watch it climb the iTunes chart with each refresh.

Take Me Home, was recorded primarily in Stockholm and London during and after their first world tour. The success of Up All Night had attracted an array of top songwriting talent — Ed Sheeran even penned two hopeless romantic sad lad tunes, “Little Things” and “Over Again” — but Kotecha, Falk and Yacoub grabbed the reins, collaborating on six of the album’s 13 tracks. In charting their course, Kotecha returned to his boy band history: “My theory was, you give them a similar sound on album two, and album three is when you start moving on.”

Still, there was the inherent pressure of the second album to contend with. The label wanted a “What Makes You Beautiful, Part 2,” and evidence that the 1D phenomenon wasn’t slowing down appeared outside the window of the Stockholm studio: so many fans, the street had to be shut down. Kotecha even remembers seeing police officers with missing person photos, combing through the girls camped outside, looking for teens to return to their parents.

At this pivotal moment, One Direction made it clear that they wanted a greater say in their artistic future. Kotecha admits he was wary at first, but the band was determined. To help manage the workload, Kotecha had brought in two young songwriters, Kristoffer Fogelmark and Albin Nedler, who’d arrived with a handful of ideas, including a chorus for a booming power ballad called “Last First Kiss.”

“We thought, while we’re busy recording vocals, whoever’s not busy can go write songs with these two guys, and then we’ll help shape them as much as we can,” Kotecha says. “And to our pleasant surprise, the songs were pretty damn good.”

At this pivotal moment, too, songwriters Julian Bunetta and John Ryan also met the band. Friends from the Berklee College of Music, Bunetta and Ryan had moved out to L.A. and cut a few tracks, but still had no hits to their name. They entered the Syco orbit after scoring work on the U.S. version of The X Factor, and were asked if they wanted to try writing a song for Take Me Home. “I was like, yeah definitely,” Bunetta says. “They sold five million albums? Hell yeah, I want to make some money.”

Working with Jamie Scott, who’d written two songs on Up All Night (“More Than This” and “Stole My Heart”), Bunetta and Ryan wrote “C’mon, C’mon” — a blinding hit of young love that rips down a dance pop speedway through a comically oversized wall of Marshall stacks. It earned them a trip to London. Bunetta admits to thinking the whole 1D thing was “a quick little fad” ahead of their first meeting with the band, but their charms were overwhelming. Everyone hit it off immediately.

“Niall showed me his ass,” Bunetta remembers of the day they recorded, “They Don’t Know About Us,” one of five songs they produced for Take Me Home (two are on the deluxe edition). “The first vocal take, he went in to sing, did a take, I was looking down at the computer screen and was like, ‘On this line, can you sing it this way?’ And I looked over and he was mooning me. I was like, ‘I love this guy!’”

Take Me Home dropped November 9th, just nine days short of Up All Night’s first anniversary. With only seven weeks left in 2012, it became the fourth best-selling album of the year globally, moving 4.4 million copies, per the IFPI; it fell short of Adele’s 21, Taylor Swift’s Red and 1D’s own Up All Night, which had several extra months to sell 4.5 million copies.

Kotecha, Falk and Yacoub’s tracks anchored the album. Songs like “Kiss You,” “Heart Attack” and “Live While We’re Young” were pristine pop rock that One Direction delivered with full delirium, vulnerability and possibility — the essence of the teen — in voices increasingly capable of navigating all the little nuances of that spectrum. And the songs 1D helped write (“Last First Kiss,” “Back for You” and “Summer Love”) remain among the LP’s best.

“You saw that they caught the bug and were really good at it,” Kotecha says of their songwriting. “And moving forward, you got the impression that that was the way for them.”

Like clockwork, the wheels began to churn for album three right after Take Me Home dropped. But unlike those first two records, carving out dedicated studio time for LP3 was going to be difficult — on February 23rd, 2013, One Direction would launch a world tour in London, the first of 123 concerts they’d play that year. They’d have to write and record on the road, and for Kotecha and Falk — both of whom had just had kids — that just wasn’t possible.

But it was also time for a creative shift. Even Kotecha knew that from his boy band history: album three is, after all, when you start moving on. One Direction was ready, too. Kotecha credits Louis, the oldest member of the group, for “shepherding them into adulthood, away from the very pop-y stuff of the first two albums. He was leading the charge to make sure that they had a more mature sound. And at the time, being in it, it was a little difficult for me, Rami and Carl to grasp — but hindsight, that was the right thing to do.”

“For three years, this was our schedule,” Bunetta says. “We did X Factor October, November, December. Took off January. February, flew to London. We’d gather ideas with the band, come up with sounds, hang out. Then back to L.A. for March, produce some stuff, then go out on the road with them in April. Get vocals, write a song or two, come back for May, work on the vocals, and produce the songs we wrote on the road. Back to London in June-ish. Back here for July, produce it up. Go back on tour in August, get last bits of vocals, mix in September, back to X Factor in October, album out in November, January off, start it all over again.”

That cycle began in early 2013 when Bunetta and Ryan flew to London for a session that lasted just over a week, but yielded the bulk of Midnight Memories. With songwriters Jamie Scott, Wayne Hector and Ed Drewett they wrote “Best Song Ever” and “You and I,” and, with One Direction, “Diana” and “Midnight Memories.” Bunetta and Ryan’s initial rapport with the band strengthened — they were a few years older, but as Bunetta jokes, “We act like we’re 19 all the time anyway.” Years ago, Bunetta posted an audio clip documenting the creation of “Midnight Memories” — the place-holder chorus was a full-throated, perfectly harmonized, “I love KFC!”

For the most part, Bunetta, Ryan and 1D doubled down on the rock sound their predecessors had forged, but there was one outlier from that week. A stunning bit of post-Mumford festival folk buoyed by a new kind of lyrical and vocal maturity called “Story of My Life.”

“This was a make or break moment for them,” Bunetta says. “They needed to grow up, or they were gonna go away — and they wanted to grow up. To get to the level they got to, you need more than just your fan base. That song extended far beyond their fan base and made people really pay attention.”

Production on Midnight Memories continued on the road, where, like so many bands before them, One Direction unlocked a new dimension to their music. Tour engineer Alex Oriet made it possible, Ryan says, building makeshift vocal booths in hotel rooms by flipping beds up against the walls. Writing and recording was crammed in whenever — 20 minutes before a show, or right after another two-hour performance.

“It preserved the excitement of the moment,” Bunetta says. “We were just there, doing it, marinating in it at all times. You’re capturing moments instead of trying to recreate them. A lot of times we’d write a song, sing it in the hotel, produce it, then fly back out to have them re-sing it — and so many times the demo vocals were better. They hadn’t memorized it yet. They were still in the mood. There was a performance there that you couldn’t recreate.”

Midnight Memories arrived, per usual, in November 2013. And, per usual, it was a smash. The following year, 1D brought their songs to the environment they always deserved — stadiums around the world — and amid the biggest shows of their career, they worked on their aptly-titled fourth album Four. The 123 concerts 1D had played the year before had strengthened their combined vocal prowess in a way that opened up an array of new possibilities.

“We could use their voices on Four to make something sound more exciting and bigger, rather than having to add too many guitars, synths or drums,” Ryan says.

“They were so much more dynamic and subtle, too,” Bunetta adds. “I don’t think they could’ve pulled off a song like ‘Night Changes’ two albums prior; or the nuance to sing soft and emotionally on ‘Fireproof.’ It takes a lot of experience to deliver a restrained vocal that way.”

“A lot of the songs were double,” Bunetta says, “like somebody might be singing about their girlfriend, but there was another meaning that applied to the group as well.”

Musically, Four was 1D’s most expansive album yet — from the sky-high piano rock of “Steal My Girl” to the tender, tasteful groove of “Fireproof” — and it had the emotional range to match. Now in their early twenties, songs like “Where Do Broken Hearts Go,” “No Control,” “Fool’s Gold” and “Clouds” redrew the dramas and euphorias of adolescence with the new weight, wit and wanton winks of impending adulthood. One Direction wasn’t growing up normally in any sense of the word, but they were becoming songwriters capable of drawing out the most relatable elements from their extraordinary circumstances — like on “Change Your Ticket,” where the turbulent love affairs of young jet-setters are distilled to the universal pang of a long goodbye. There were real relationships inspiring these stories, but now that One Direction was four years into being the biggest band on the planet, it was natural that the relationships within the band would make it into the music as well.

“I think that on Four,” Bunetta says with a slight pause, “there were some tensions going on. A lot of the songs were double — like somebody might be singing about their girlfriend, but there was another meaning that applied to the group as well.”

He continues: “It’s tough going through that age, having to spread your wings with so many eyeballs on you, so much money and no break. It was tough for them to carve out their individual manhood, space and point of view, while learning how to communicate with each other. Even more than relationship things that were going on, that was the bigger blanket that was in there every day, seeping into the songs.”

Bunetta remembers Zayn playing him “Pillowtalk” and a few other songs for the first time through a three a.m. fog of cigarette smoke in a hotel room in Japan.

“Fucking amazing,” he says. “They were fucking awesome. I know creatively he wasn’t getting what he needed from the way that the albums were being made on the road. He wanted to lock himself in the studio and take his time, be methodical. And that just wasn’t possible.”

A month or so later, and 16 shows into One Direction’s “On the Road Again” tour, Zayn left the band. Bunetta and Ryan agree it wasn’t out of the blue: “He was frustrated and wanted to do things outside of the band,” Bunetta says. “It’s a lot for a young kid, all those shows. We’d been with them for a bunch of years at this point — it was a matter of when. You just hoped that it would wait until the last album.”

Still, Bunetta compares the loss to having a finger lopped off, and he acknowledges that Harry, Niall, Liam and Louis struggled to find their bearings as One Direction continued with their stadium tour and next album, Made in the A.M. Just as band tensions bubbled beneath the songs on Four, Zayn’s departure left an imprint on Made in the A.M. Not with any overt malice, but a song like “Drag Me Down,” Bunetta says, reflects the effort to bounce back. Even Niall pushing his voice to the limits of his range on that song wouldn’t have been necessary if Zayn and his trusty falsetto were available.

But Made in the A.M. wasn’t beholden to this shake-up. Bunetta and Ryan cite “Olivia” as a defining track, one that captures just how far One Direction had come as songwriters: They’d written it in 45 minutes, after wasting a whole day trying to write something far worse.

“When you start as a songwriter, you write a bunch of shitty songs, you get better and you keep getting better,” Ryan says. “But then you can get finicky and you’re like, ‘Maybe I have to get smart with this lyric.’ By Made in the A.M. … they were coming into their own in the sense of picking up a guitar, messing around and feeling something, rather than being like, ‘How do I put this puzzle together?’”

After Zayn’s departure, Bunetta and Ryan said it became clear that Made in the A.M. would be One Direction’s last album before some break of indeterminate length. The album boasts the palpable tug of the end, but to One Direction’s credit, that finality is balanced by a strong sense of forever. It’s literally the last sentiment they leave their fans on album-closer “History,” singing, “Baby don’t you know, baby don’t you know/We can live forever.”

In a way, Made in the A.M. is about One Direction as an entity. Not one that belonged to the group, but to everyone they spent five years making music for. Four years since their hiatus and 10 years since their formation, the fans remain One Direction’s defining legacy. Even as all five members have settled into solo careers, Ryan notes that baseless rumors of any kind of reunion — even a meager Zoom call — can still set the internet on fire. The old songs remain potent, too: Carl Falk says his nine-year-old son has taken to making TikToks to 1D tracks.

“Most of them weren’t necessarily musicians before this happened, but they loved music, and they found a love of creating, writing and playing,” Kotecha says

There are plenty of metrics to quantify One Direction’s reach, success and influence. The hard numbers — album sales and concert stubs — are staggering on their own, but the ineffable is always more fun. One Direction was such a good band that a fan, half-jokingly, but then kinda seriously, started a GoFundMe to buy out their contract and grant them full artistic freedom. One Direction was such a good band that songwriters like Kotecha and Falk — who would go on to make hits with Ariana Grande, the Weeknd and Nicki Minaj — still think about the songs they could’ve made with them. One Direction was such a good band that Mitski covered “Fireproof.”

But maybe it all comes down to the most ineffable thing of all: Chance. Kotecha compares success on talent shows like The X Factor to waking up one morning and being super cut — but now, to keep that figure, you have to work out at a 10, without having done the gradual work to reach that level. That’s the downfall for so many acts, but One Direction was not only able, but willing, to put in the work.

“They’re one of the only acts from those types of shows that managed to do it for such a long time,” Kotecha says. “Five years is a long time for a massive pop star to go nonstop. I know it was tiring, but they were fantastic sports about it. They appreciated and understood the opportunity they had — and, as you can see, they haven’t really stopped since. Most of them weren’t necessarily musicians before this happened, but they loved music, and they found a love of creating, writing and playing. To have these boys — that had been sort of randomly picked — to also have that? It will never be repeated.”

[queen-of-my-goofball-army]

Why YOU should give Rush a chance

Okay, so right off the bat, this is not going to be like my other posts on my blog. This is not a post about some show that has captivated my interest or anything at all related to animation. If that's not your cup of Dot rambling coffee, than I would highly recommend you take your L right now and come back for your regularly scheduled programming in a few days.

Are they gone? Okay cool! For those of you that stuck around past my forewarning let me tell you about my newest special interest to join my now growing music love affair with 80's and 90's Rock n Roll. For those of you that don't know, I'm guessing that most of you do not know what Rush even is. If you are not somehow on the autism spectrum or know a lot about music in general than this band will be entirely unknown to you. Rush is a three man progressive rock band born in Canada made up of three incredibly amazing men Gary "Geddy" Lee, his best friend since he was 11 years old Alex Lifeson, and last but most certainly not least, the amazingness that was Rush's drummer and songwriter Neil Peart. Together, the three of them changed the world of progressive rock through Geddy's unique vocal qualities, Alex's incredibly underrated shredding guitar skills, and Neil's immaculate drums and lyrics. I am here to tell you, yes YOU reading this length rambling message in three sections to keep this fair. Each member will get their own sections and I will try my hardest to keep personal bias out of this. I also just watched Rush: Beyond The Lighted Stage yesterday with my mom so I will mention some things that we talked about during it to try and sell people.

Geddy Lee:

* Geddy has one of the most unique voices in all of rock music. This will most likely be the thing that turns off the people that do listen to me and wind up listening to a couple of songs. He has had a lot of critics for his higher pitched voice usually yelling lyrics. However, I love his singing voice. It is filled with energy and power to it. His voice has a weight to it that not a whole lot of other people can really nail if they really want to.

* You want to talk about sheer talent? How many of you all know lead singers that are a one and done kind of singer? They can play one instrument and they're done? Well shove them aside because Geddy can play not only bass guitar but a double neck bass, synthesizer, and piano. Yeah I think all you haters can stand aside because this man will always be amazing technically.

* So many of lead singers in my opinion, think that they own the band. Because they get to sing the songs right? That means that they get to make all the important decisions and they can't ever do anything wrong. Well for those of you that know Rush, you will remember the synthesizer era. The era of new wave Rush where Geddy shelved his bass guitars for his synthesizer. This caused a small rift between Lee, Lifeson, and Peart who were not at all fans of the way that the synthesizer was going. While Geddy was having a fun time with it, he shelved the synthesizer almost for good and went back to his roots. I don't know many other lead singers that would put up something that they were legitimately having a good time with just for his bandmates.

* Geddy's just general goofball personality is something that continues to make me chuckle. Since he and Alex have known each other for practically ever (they met when they were 11) and have been there for each other for most of their lives they have very similar energy's.

Alex Lifeson:

* Alex Lifeson is an underrated guitarist. There I said it. I feel like of the three of them (Geddy, Alex, and Neil) Alex gets talked about the least due to the fact that Geddy also plays guitar. While it might be a different brand of guitar some people forget just how genuinely face melting his solos are. I could listen to his riff in Tom Sawyer all day long I swear. I'm still working my way through every Rush album in chronological order (I'm just now finishing A Farewell To Kings an absolutely beautiful album.) But his skills are not one to be downsized and I think he is an amazing, amazing guitar player.

* You want to talk about the group goofball? If Geddy is goofy, you look in the dictionary this man is the pure definition of a hilarious and quirky character. When Rush was FINALLY indicted into the Rock N'Roll hall of fame in 2013, after Neil and Geddy's beautiful and moving speech's about how important this means to them, Alex gets up there and his entire speech is spoken in very animated BLAHs. But what's really funny is that if you watch carefully he is actually trying to tell you a story. It's a story about how they all got there past the critics that tried to stop them along the way.

* I love the relationship between Alex and Geddy especially. They're just both such unique kinds of people but they have similar quirks and traits that are evidence of decades upon decades of friendship. I get massive big bro vibes from watching the three of them play together and it's really touching that they never let the fame go to their heads.

* While watching the documentary, I found myself in awe of just his general personality. He was a jokester and the life of the party, and even if sometimes Neil was exhausted by his presence it was obvious that he loved his bros.

Neil Peart:

* If you are asking me, the heart and soul of Rush, was their drummer Neil Peart. Neil wasn't just their drummer though, he also wrote all of Rush's songs after their first album together. Neil grew up probably the biggest bookworm to ever bookworm. He was a socially awkward kid it seemed since he was always reading as his parents explained in the documentary (more on this laster). This resulted in lyrics that are absolutely gorgeous in any context and sound like literature themselves. One of my favorite Rush songs is their song Rivendale themed to Lord Of The Rings.

* Peart was one of the most technically amazing drummers of all time. I don't think I'm saying new information when I say that. He has been praised for not only his technical prowess but the intensity of how he played as well. He was a force of nature when you put him in front of a drum kit. The drum solos in Rush are not easy. They are technically extremely difficult and always leave me to collect my jaw from the floor.

* Lyrically speaking, his lyrics were so intelligent and beautifully worded that it's hard to focus on them sometimes. I've listened to Fly By Night I can't tell you how many times just within the last few months. They are so unique, so beautiful, just so Rush. I can't think of any other word to describe them other than Rush. Nobody else could have written lyrics like these other than Neil himself. Even though he's gone now (Rest In Power you absolute Mad Lad.) I still feel like his music will resonate with millions of future generations to come. It could be the year 3000 for all I care and people will still be jamming to Tom Swayer, just you watch.

* Lastly about Neil himself, this is of the opinion of my mom and I, and you heard it here first, I think that Neil was aspie. He was the quietest of the three of them, he hated getting spotted by fans while the other two seem to tolerate it, he was constantly stimming with his drumsticks on and off the stage by spinning them around his fingers, he was totally nerdy and antisocial, he loved literature more than anything else growing up and would rather have a book in his hands than go out to a public place with his classmates, and he grieved in a different way than most people do. When his wife and daughter passed away, he hit the road with his motorcycle and most often Geddy and Alex wouldn't hear from him for months at a time. They had cute little nicknames for each other that Neil would always sign the postcards with. It was a different one every single time.

Thanks for listening to me ramble on this day guys! I really appreciate it, I know that this hasn't been your regularly schedule Dot programming but I really appreciate you sticking around! Give Rush a listen to if I've piqued your interest you will not regret it.

[stylesnews]

A bathroom figures significantly in the origin stories of at least two classic One Direction songs. The first will be familiar to any fan: Songwriter and producer Savan Kotecha was sitting on the toilet in a London hotel room, when he heard his wife say, “I feel so ugly today.” The words that popped into his head would shape the chorus of One Direction’s unforgettable 2011 debut, “What Makes You Beautiful.”

The second takes place a few years later. Another hotel room in England — this one in Manchester — where songwriters and producers Julian Bunetta and John Ryan were throwing back Cucumber Collins cocktails and tinkering with a beat. Liam Payne was there, too. At one point, Liam got up to use the bathroom and when he re-emerged, he was singing a melody. They taped it immediately. Most of it was mumbled — a temporary placeholder — but there was one phrase: “Better than words…” A few hours later, on the bus to another city, another show — Bunetta and Ryan can’t remember where — Payne asked, maybe having a laugh, what if the rest of the song was just lyrics from other songs?

“Songs in general, you’re just sort of waiting for an idea to bonk you on the head,” Ryan says from a Los Angeles studio with Bunetta. “And if you’re sort of winking at it, laughing at it — we were probably joking, what if [the next line was] ‘More than a feeling’? Well, that would actually be tight!”

“Better Than Words,” closed One Direction’s third album, Midnight Memories. It was never a single, but became a fan-favorite live show staple. It’s a mid-tempo headbanger that captures the essence of what One Direction is, and always was: One of the great rock and roll bands of the 21st century.

July 23rd marks One Direction’s 10th anniversary, the day Simon Cowell told Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson that they would progress on The X Factor as a group. Between that date and their last live performance (so far, one can hope) on December 31st, 2015, they released five albums, toured the world four times — twice playing stadiums — and left a trove of Top 10 hits for a devoted global fan base that came to life at the moment social media was re-defining the contours of fandom.

It’d been a decade since the heyday of ‘N Sync and Backstreet Boys, and the churn of generations demanded a new boy band. One Direction’s songs were great and their charisma and chemistry undeniable, but what made them stick was a sound unlike anything else in pop — rooted in guitar rock at a time when that couldn’t have been more passé.

Kotecha, who met 1D on The X Factor and shepherded them through their first few years, is a devoted student of boy band history. He first witnessed their power back in the Eighties when New Kids on the Block helped his older sister through her teens. The common thread linking all great boy bands, from New Kids to BSB, he says, is, “When they’d break, they’d come out of nowhere, sounding like nothing that’s on the radio.”

In 2010, Kotecha remembers, “everybody was doing this sort of Rihanna dance pop.” But that just wasn’t a sound One Direction could pull off (the Wanted only did it once); and famously, they didn’t even dance. Instead, the reference points for 1D went all the way back to the source of contemporary boy bands.

“Me and Simon would talk about how [One Direction] was Beatles-esque, Monkees-esque,” Kotecha continues. “They had such big personalities. I felt like a kid again when I was around them. And I felt like the only music you could really do that with is fun, pop-y guitar songs. It would come out of left field and become something owned by the fans.”

“The guitar riff had to be so simple that my friend’s 15-year-old daughter could play it and put a cover to YouTube,” says Carl Falk

To craft that sound on 1D’s first two albums, Up All Night and Take Me Home, Kotecha worked mostly with Swedish songwriters-producers Carl Falk and Rami Yacoub. They’d all studied at the Max Martin/Cheiron Studios school of pop craftsmanship, and Falk says they were confident they could crack the boy band code once more with songs that recalled BSB and ‘N Sync, but replaced the dated synths and pianos with guitars.

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The greatest thing popular music can do is make someone else think, “I can do that,” and One Direction’s music was designed with that intent. “The guitar riff had to be so simple that my friend’s 15-year-old daughter could play it and put a cover to YouTube,” Falk says. “If you listen to ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ or ‘One Thing,’ they have two-finger guitar riffs that everyone who can play a bit of guitar can learn. That was all on purpose.”

One Direction famously finished third on The X Factor, but Cowell immediately signed them to his label, Syco Music. They’d gone through one round of artist development boot camp on the show, and another followed on an X Factor live tour in spring 2011. They’d developed an onstage confidence, but the studio presented a new challenge. “We had to create who should do what in One Direction,” Falk says. To solve the puzzle the band’s five voices presented, they chose the kitchen sink method and everyone tried everything.

“They were searching for themselves,” Falk adds. “It was like, Harry, let’s just record him; he’s not afraid of anything. Liam’s the perfect song starter, and then you put Zayn on top with this high falsetto. Louis found his voice when we did ‘Change Your Mind.’ It was a long trial for everyone to find their strengths and weaknesses, but that was also the fun part.” Falk also gave Niall some of his first real guitar lessons; there’s video of them performing “One Thing” together, still blessedly up on YouTube.

“What Makes You Beautiful” was released September 11th, 2011 in the U.K. and debuted at Number One on the singles chart there — though the video had dropped a month prior. While One Direction’s immediate success in the U.K. and other parts of Europe wasn’t guaranteed, the home field odds were favorable. European markets have historically been kinder to boy bands than the U.S.; ‘N Sync and Backstreet Boys found huge success abroad before they conquered home. To that end, neither Kotecha nor Falk were sure 1D would break in the U.S. Falk even says of conceiving the band’s sound, “We didn’t want it to sound too American, because this was not meant — for us, at least — to work in America. This was gonna work in the U.K. and maybe outside the U.K.”

Stoking anticipation for “What Makes You Beautiful” by releasing the video on YouTube before the single dropped, preceded the strategy Columbia Records (the band’s U.S. label) adopted for Up All Night. Between its November 2011 arrival in the U.K. and its U.S. release in March 2012, Columbia eschewed traditional radio strategies and built hype on social media. One Direction had been extremely online since their X Factor days, engaging with fans and spending their downtime making silly videos to share. One goofy tune, made with Kotecha, called “Vas Happenin’ Boys?” was an early viral hit.

“They instinctively had this — and it might just be a generational thing — they just knew how to speak to their fans,” Kotecha says. “And they did that by being themselves. That was a unique thing about these boys: When the cameras turned on, they didn’t change who they were.”

Social media was flooded with One Direction contests and petitions to bring the band to fans’ towns. Radio stations were inundated with calls to play “What Makes You Beautiful” long before it was even available. When it did finally arrive, Kotecha (who was in Sweden at the time) remembers staying up all night to watch it climb the iTunes chart with each refresh.

Take Me Home, was recorded primarily in Stockholm and London during and after their first world tour. The success of Up All Night had attracted an array of top songwriting talent — Ed Sheeran even penned two hopeless romantic sad lad tunes, “Little Things” and “Over Again” — but Kotecha, Falk and Yacoub grabbed the reins, collaborating on six of the album’s 13 tracks. In charting their course, Kotecha returned to his boy band history: “My theory was, you give them a similar sound on album two, and album three is when you start moving on.”

Still, there was the inherent pressure of the second album to contend with. The label wanted a “What Makes You Beautiful, Part 2,” and evidence that the 1D phenomenon wasn’t slowing down appeared outside the window of the Stockholm studio: so many fans, the street had to be shut down. Kotecha even remembers seeing police officers with missing person photos, combing through the girls camped outside, looking for teens to return to their parents.

At this pivotal moment, One Direction made it clear that they wanted a greater say in their artistic future. Kotecha admits he was wary at first, but the band was determined. To help manage the workload, Kotecha had brought in two young songwriters, Kristoffer Fogelmark and Albin Nedler, who’d arrived with a handful of ideas, including a chorus for a booming power ballad called “Last First Kiss.”

“We thought, while we’re busy recording vocals, whoever’s not busy can go write songs with these two guys, and then we’ll help shape them as much as we can,” Kotecha says. “And to our pleasant surprise, the songs were pretty damn good.”

At this pivotal moment, too, songwriters Julian Bunetta and John Ryan also met the band. Friends from the Berklee College of Music, Bunetta and Ryan had moved out to L.A. and cut a few tracks, but still had no hits to their name. They entered the Syco orbit after scoring work on the U.S. version of The X Factor, and were asked if they wanted to try writing a song for Take Me Home. “I was like, yeah definitely,” Bunetta says. “They sold five million albums? Hell yeah, I want to make some money.”

Working with Jamie Scott, who’d written two songs on Up All Night (“More Than This” and “Stole My Heart”), Bunetta and Ryan wrote “C’mon, C’mon” — a blinding hit of young love that rips down a dance pop speedway through a comically oversized wall of Marshall stacks. It earned them a trip to London. Bunetta admits to thinking the whole 1D thing was “a quick little fad” ahead of their first meeting with the band, but their charms were overwhelming. Everyone hit it off immediately.

“Niall showed me his ass,” Bunetta remembers of the day they recorded, “They Don’t Know About Us,” one of five songs they produced for Take Me Home (two are on the deluxe edition). “The first vocal take, he went in to sing, did a take, I was looking down at the computer screen and was like, ‘On this line, can you sing it this way?’ And I looked over and he was mooning me. I was like, ‘I love this guy!’”

Take Me Home dropped November 9th, just nine days short of Up All Night’s first anniversary. With only seven weeks left in 2012, it became the fourth best-selling album of the year globally, moving 4.4 million copies, per the IFPI; it fell short of Adele’s 21, Taylor Swift’s Red and 1D’s own Up All Night, which had several extra months to sell 4.5 million copies.

Kotecha, Falk and Yacoub’s tracks anchored the album. Songs like “Kiss You,” “Heart Attack” and “Live While We’re Young” were pristine pop rock that One Direction delivered with full delirium, vulnerability and possibility — the essence of the teen — in voices increasingly capable of navigating all the little nuances of that spectrum. And the songs 1D helped write (“Last First Kiss,” “Back for You” and “Summer Love”) remain among the LP’s best.

“You saw that they caught the bug and were really good at it,” Kotecha says of their songwriting. “And moving forward, you got the impression that that was the way for them.”

Like clockwork, the wheels began to churn for album three right after Take Me Home dropped. But unlike those first two records, carving out dedicated studio time for LP3 was going to be difficult — on February 23rd, 2013, One Direction would launch a world tour in London, the first of 123 concerts they’d play that year. They’d have to write and record on the road, and for Kotecha and Falk — both of whom had just had kids — that just wasn’t possible.

But it was also time for a creative shift. Even Kotecha knew that from his boy band history: album three is, after all, when you start moving on. One Direction was ready, too. Kotecha credits Louis, the oldest member of the group, for “shepherding them into adulthood, away from the very pop-y stuff of the first two albums. He was leading the charge to make sure that they had a more mature sound. And at the time, being in it, it was a little difficult for me, Rami and Carl to grasp — but hindsight, that was the right thing to do.”

“For three years, this was our schedule,” Bunetta says. “We did X Factor October, November, December. Took off January. February, flew to London. We’d gather ideas with the band, come up with sounds, hang out. Then back to L.A. for March, produce some stuff, then go out on the road with them in April. Get vocals, write a song or two, come back for May, work on the vocals, and produce the songs we wrote on the road. Back to London in June-ish. Back here for July, produce it up. Go back on tour in August, get last bits of vocals, mix in September, back to X Factor in October, album out in November, January off, start it all over again.��

That cycle began in early 2013 when Bunetta and Ryan flew to London for a session that lasted just over a week, but yielded the bulk of Midnight Memories. With songwriters Jamie Scott, Wayne Hector and Ed Drewett they wrote “Best Song Ever” and “You and I,” and, with One Direction, “Diana” and “Midnight Memories.” Bunetta and Ryan’s initial rapport with the band strengthened — they were a few years older, but as Bunetta jokes, “We act like we’re 19 all the time anyway.” Years ago, Bunetta posted an audio clip documenting the creation of “Midnight Memories” — the place-holder chorus was a full-throated, perfectly harmonized, “I love KFC!”

For the most part, Bunetta, Ryan and 1D doubled down on the rock sound their predecessors had forged, but there was one outlier from that week. A stunning bit of post-Mumford festival folk buoyed by a new kind of lyrical and vocal maturity called “Story of My Life.”

“This was a make or break moment for them,” Bunetta says. “They needed to grow up, or they were gonna go away — and they wanted to grow up. To get to the level they got to, you need more than just your fan base. That song extended far beyond their fan base and made people really pay attention.”

Production on Midnight Memories continued on the road, where, like so many bands before them, One Direction unlocked a new dimension to their music. Tour engineer Alex Oriet made it possible, Ryan says, building makeshift vocal booths in hotel rooms by flipping beds up against the walls. Writing and recording was crammed in whenever — 20 minutes before a show, or right after another two-hour performance.

“It preserved the excitement of the moment,” Bunetta says. “We were just there, doing it, marinating in it at all times. You’re capturing moments instead of trying to recreate them. A lot of times we’d write a song, sing it in the hotel, produce it, then fly back out to have them re-sing it — and so many times the demo vocals were better. They hadn’t memorized it yet. They were still in the mood. There was a performance there that you couldn’t recreate.”

Midnight Memories arrived, per usual, in November 2013. And, per usual, it was a smash. The following year, 1D brought their songs to the environment they always deserved — stadiums around the world — and amid the biggest shows of their career, they worked on their aptly-titled fourth album Four. The 123 concerts 1D had played the year before had strengthened their combined vocal prowess in a way that opened up an array of new possibilities.

“We could use their voices on Four to make something sound more exciting and bigger, rather than having to add too many guitars, synths or drums,” Ryan says.

“They were so much more dynamic and subtle, too,” Bunetta adds. “I don’t think they could’ve pulled off a song like ‘Night Changes’ two albums prior; or the nuance to sing soft and emotionally on ‘Fireproof.’ It takes a lot of experience to deliver a restrained vocal that way.”

“A lot of the songs were double,” Bunetta says, “like somebody might be singing about their girlfriend, but there was another meaning that applied to the group as well.”

Musically, Four was 1D’s most expansive album yet — from the sky-high piano rock of “Steal My Girl” to the tender, tasteful groove of “Fireproof” — and it had the emotional range to match. Now in their early twenties, songs like “Where Do Broken Hearts Go,” “No Control,” “Fool’s Gold” and “Clouds” redrew the dramas and euphorias of adolescence with the new weight, wit and wanton winks of impending adulthood. One Direction wasn’t growing up normally in any sense of the word, but they were becoming songwriters capable of drawing out the most relatable elements from their extraordinary circumstances — like on “Change Your Ticket,” where the turbulent love affairs of young jet-setters are distilled to the universal pang of a long goodbye. There were real relationships inspiring these stories, but now that One Direction was four years into being the biggest band on the planet, it was natural that the relationships within the band would make it into the music as well.

“I think that on Four,” Bunetta says with a slight pause, “there were some tensions going on. A lot of the songs were double — like somebody might be singing about their girlfriend, but there was another meaning that applied to the group as well.”

He continues: “It’s tough going through that age, having to spread your wings with so many eyeballs on you, so much money and no break. It was tough for them to carve out their individual manhood, space and point of view, while learning how to communicate with each other. Even more than relationship things that were going on, that was the bigger blanket that was in there every day, seeping into the songs.”

Bunetta remembers Zayn playing him “Pillowtalk” and a few other songs for the first time through a three a.m. fog of cigarette smoke in a hotel room in Japan.

“Fucking amazing,” he says. “They were fucking awesome. I know creatively he wasn’t getting what he needed from the way that the albums were being made on the road. He wanted to lock himself in the studio and take his time, be methodical. And that just wasn’t possible.”

A month or so later, and 16 shows into One Direction’s “On the Road Again” tour, Zayn left the band. Bunetta and Ryan agree it wasn’t out of the blue: “He was frustrated and wanted to do things outside of the band,” Bunetta says. “It’s a lot for a young kid, all those shows. We’d been with them for a bunch of years at this point — it was a matter of when. You just hoped that it would wait until the last album.”

Still, Bunetta compares the loss to having a finger lopped off, and he acknowledges that Harry, Niall, Liam and Louis struggled to find their bearings as One Direction continued with their stadium tour and next album, Made in the A.M. Just as band tensions bubbled beneath the songs on Four, Zayn’s departure left an imprint on Made in the A.M. Not with any overt malice, but a song like “Drag Me Down,” Bunetta says, reflects the effort to bounce back. Even Niall pushing his voice to the limits of his range on that song wouldn’t have been necessary if Zayn and his trusty falsetto were available.

But Made in the A.M. wasn’t beholden to this shake-up. Bunetta and Ryan cite “Olivia” as a defining track, one that captures just how far One Direction had come as songwriters: They’d written it in 45 minutes, after wasting a whole day trying to write something far worse.

“When you start as a songwriter, you write a bunch of shitty songs, you get better and you keep getting better,” Ryan says. “But then you can get finicky and you’re like, ‘Maybe I have to get smart with this lyric.’ By Made in the A.M. … they were coming into their own in the sense of picking up a guitar, messing around and feeling something, rather than being like, ‘How do I put this puzzle together?’”

After Zayn’s departure, Bunetta and Ryan said it became clear that Made in the A.M. would be One Direction’s last album before some break of indeterminate length. The album boasts the palpable tug of the end, but to One Direction’s credit, that finality is balanced by a strong sense of forever. It’s literally the last sentiment they leave their fans on album-closer “History,” singing, “Baby don’t you know, baby don’t you know/We can live forever.”

In a way, Made in the A.M. is about One Direction as an entity. Not one that belonged to the group, but to everyone they spent five years making music for. Four years since their hiatus and 10 years since their formation, the fans remain One Direction’s defining legacy. Even as all five members have settled into solo careers, Ryan notes that baseless rumors of any kind of reunion — even a meager Zoom call — can still set the internet on fire. The old songs remain potent, too: Carl Falk says his nine-year-old son has taken to making TikToks to 1D tracks.

“Most of them weren’t necessarily musicians before this happened, but they loved music, and they found a love of creating, writing and playing,” Kotecha says

There are plenty of metrics to quantify One Direction’s reach, success and influence. The hard numbers — album sales and concert stubs — are staggering on their own, but the ineffable is always more fun. One Direction was such a good band that a fan, half-jokingly, but then kinda seriously, started a GoFundMe to buy out their contract and grant them full artistic freedom. One Direction was such a good band that songwriters like Kotecha and Falk — who would go on to make hits with Ariana Grande, the Weeknd and Nicki Minaj — still think about the songs they could’ve made with them. One Direction was such a good band that Mitski covered “Fireproof.”

But maybe it all comes down to the most ineffable thing of all: Chance. Kotecha compares success on talent shows like The X Factor to waking up one morning and being super cut — but now, to keep that figure, you have to work out at a 10, without having done the gradual work to reach that level. That’s the downfall for so many acts, but One Direction was not only able, but willing, to put in the work.

“They’re one of the only acts from those types of shows that managed to do it for such a long time,” Kotecha says. “Five years is a long time for a massive pop star to go nonstop. I know it was tiring, but they were fantastic sports about it. They appreciated and understood the opportunity they had — and, as you can see, they haven’t really stopped since. Most of them weren’t necessarily musicians before this happened, but they loved music, and they found a love of creating, writing and playing. To have these boys — that had been sort of randomly picked — to also have that? It will never be repeated.”

[middleearthpixie]

In Time ~ Chapter Twenty-Five

Author's Note: I'm posting this far later than usual because today simply got away from me. Doncha hate that???

Summary: The Company of Thorin Oakenshield reaches Mirkwood, where Thorin will offer a deal to Thranduíl on Kili’s behalf, and later on, Amara runs into an old friend who fires up Thorin’s jealous streak

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Amara (female OC)

Characters: Thorin, Amara, the Company, Thranduíl, Aiduin of Mirkwood

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4,205

Taggin: @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @tschrist1

As it happened, their luck, did in fact hold out over the fortnight it took for them to reach Mirkwood’s border. Thorin scowled as they stood at the Mirkwood border, where two of Thranduíl’s men stood silent sentry. He didn’t want to be there. After all, the last time he and the others found themselves in Mirkwood, spiders had tried to eat them, elves tried to kill them, and Thranduíl himself had them tossed into then dungeons. If it hadn’t been for Master Baggins, who never did explain exactly how he managed it, snagging the dungeon keys, they might still be in those tiny, damp, woodland cells.

But, the hobbit had freed them, smuggled them out in barrels, in which they bounced about like corks tossed on the river’s swift current, battling not only the elves trying to stop them, but the orcs sent to hunt Thorin himself.

He looked over at Kili, whose eyes practically gleamed at the sight of the wood. It was because of this place he’d met Tauriel, the she-elf who’d saved his skin the first time. Saved his skin and apparently won his heart. Although Kili rarely spoke of her, Thorin had the feeling he knew exactly what went through his nephew’s mind. Most likely the same thing that went through his own mind whenever he looked at Amara.

Which was why they were at Thranduíl’s front door. As much as it would pain him—and it would definitely pain him—Thorin would willingly gift the Seven Stars of Middle Earth necklace to Thranduíl if it meant Thranduíl would give his blessing for Kili to court Tauriel. The same blasted necklace that kept the woodland elves from aiding Erebor in its time of need, that caused Thranduíl to threaten Erebor with what became the Battle of the Five Armies, would find its way to Mirkwood, no matter how much Thorin hated to do it. He had no love lost for Thranduíl and knew the feeling was mutual, but he’d put aside his own dislike and distrust of the Elf King if it mean Kili would find the same happiness with Tauriel that he’d found with Amara.

With that, he climbed down from his saddle and stepped up to the sentries. “Thorin Oakenshield to see Thranduíl.”

“Does His Highness expect you?”

He shook his head. “He does not, no. But tell him I have something he wants and I am willing to discuss parting with it.”

The two sentries looked at one another, then the shorter of the two turned as the doors opened noiseless, and disappeared inside.

Thorin stared down the second sentry. He didn’t like being in Mirkwood. The air was heavy with apprehension and dread, its waters were enchanted with what some considered black magic, and the spiders alone were enough to make him want to avoid the woods with ever fiber of his being, for they were no ordinary spiders. They were big enough to hunt man, dwarf, and elf, and did so without impunity. Even from where he stood, at the edge the wood and vine bridge that would lead them into the Kingdom of Mirkwood, he could see the wispy white spiderwebs in the distance. Just the sight of them was enough to bring back the claustrophobic feeling of being wrapped in one of their cocoons.

He fought off a shiver as the memory of being wrapped so suffocatingly tight, of being unable to move much more than a finger or a toe, rushing to the forefront of his mind. Again, if it hadn’t been for Master Baggins and his sword—which he’d dubbed Sting—they might not have survived long enough to find their way into those dungeons.

“What is taking so long?” Dwalin grumbled from his saddle.

“I am certain Thranduíl is trying to come up with some reason to deny us entry,” Thorin told him over one shoulder, “all the while his curiosity kills him because he knows he’ll not be able to.”

“I say we keep moving,” Dwalin countered. “Why are we even here?”

Thorin grinned at Kili. “Do you wish to explain or should I?”

Kili held his stare easily. “I am not the one who always railed about how untrustworthy elves were. I do believe that was you, Uncle.” He winked. “Tell me, do you still feel that way?”

He asked it with all the innocence one could put into a sentence and Thorin’s grin faded as the others all snickered. “Enjoy your laugh at my expense,” he growled, looking from one dwarf to the next, finally letting his gaze land on Kili once more. “But, remember, I have something he wants. So, I’d think twice about baiting me, Kili, since I’ve yet to actually give him what it is he covets. And if I decide to keep it for myself, you will most likely not be welcome here again.”

Kili’s face went red as the others now turned their snickers in his direction. Dwalin laughed the loudest. “Last time ye blushed tha’ bad, laddie, was when ye mistook an elf-lad for an elf-maiden.”

Now even the sentry grinned as Kili’s face went redder still. From the corner of his eye, Thorin saw Amara shake her head and he almost smiled when she said, “To be fair, it is sometimes difficult to tell them apart.”

Kili smiled at her. “Let them have their fun.” He looked back at Thorin. “I won’t have to eat any words.”

Now, Thorin smiled over his shoulder at her. “I don’t mind eating these words.”

“Mr. Oakenshield,” the first sentry returned, his expression neutral, “My Lord Thranduíl will see you. Follow me. Edyrm will see your ponies to the stables.”

The others dismounted and Thorin didn’t miss how Edrym’s gaze lingered on Amara. Thorin said nothing, but reached out to link his fingers with hers. “She’s with me.”

“Thorin!” Amara whispered.

“What? I’m merely stating a fact. You are with me.”

“I know that, but he does not care one way or the other.”

He shrugged. “I take no chances.”

She said nothing, but he didn’t miss how she rolled her eyes. Well, let her. He cared not. He had no problem making it perfectly clear to any curious elf that Amara was with him. Childish, perhaps, but he rather enjoyed knowing that they would at that moment be wishing they were him. And sane man—be they Man, elf, or dwarf—would want to be in his boots.

They followed their guide into Thranduíl’s palace. Unlike Rivendell, Thorin found no peace or tranquility in Mirkwood. Everything was dark, earthy tones of brown, beiges, red and gold, with hints of green here and there. The air felt heavy and thick, damp from all of the roots and vines that made up the palace walls. The walkways were wide, open of both sides, with what looked like endless drops on either side. Nothing had changed since the last time he stood in the throne room, where the Woodland Realm’s king sat perched high atop his throne.

Unlike the Rivendell king, Thranduíl was tall and lanky, with sleek almost-white blonde hair and wide, almost clear blue eyes. He wore a crown woven of golden twigs and leaves encrusted with gold and brown polished stones that changed color depending on how the light—what light there was—bounced off them. He wore long, flowing robes of gold over green, and two slender fingers on each hand bore rings of the same gold and brown stones in his crown.

Those blue eyes were not the least bit friendly as he peered down at them now. “Thorin Oakenshield. It has been some time since we last spoke. I believe I’d had you dragged off to rot in my dungeon, hadn’t I?”

“The dungeons from which I promptly escaped,” he retorted, unable to hold back his smirk.

Thranduíl offered up a bland smile. “Your hobbit friend had more to do with that than you did, did he not?”

“Be that as it may, I still escaped.”

“And then, of course, there was my visit to your doorstep.” Thranduíl’s voice grew colder, if that was even possible. “When you opted for war over negotiation.”

“I was not myself then.” Thorin cast a quick, sideline glance at Amara, whose hand tightened about his ever so slightly.

The Elvenking’s expression turned sympathetic, but only for a moment or two, then his face slid back into its impassive mask.

“So, what brings you and your—” Thranduíl’s piercing gaze slid about the others gathered around him, lingering on Amara just as Edrym’s did—“company, to my realm?”

Thorin glanced over at Kili, whose color had returned to normal, and said, “I come to you with a business proposition. One I’d rather discuss one on one with you.”

Thranduíl’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so? The last time you were in my chambers, you thought to insult me. Then, you challenged me to war.”

A bit of heat came to Thorin’s face and he fought the urge to look over at his company. He’d said the same thing to Thranduíl that he’d insulted Amara with when they’d first met. “Our meeting last time was a bit—ah—tense, on account of not only had we had the pleasure of dealing with your spiders, but then we were, for all intents and purposes, treated as prisoners.”

“You were, if I recall,” Thranduíl reminded him, his voice void of any emotion whatsoever, “trespassing in my woods. Of course you were treated as prisoners. As for the spiders, they are not mine.”

“Oh, for the love of—“ Dwalin growled, but Thorin cut him off.

“Hush,” he snapped, without looking at Dwalin. To Thranduíl, he said, “Even so, I do have something I think you would be interested in and I am willing to bargain for something in return. But, I’d rather do so privately.”

Thranduíl’s lips disappeared into a thin white line and the slender fingers slowly fanned across the arm of his wooded throne. Then, he nodded. “Very well. Lorsan, show our guests to the dining hall and make certain they have something to eat and drink. Then, you may show them to the guest chambers,” those eyes flicked back to Thorin, “as I assume you will wish to pass the night.”

The last thing he wanted was to try to sleep in this tangle of vines and roots, but since he very well couldn’t say that, he nodded. “Your hospitality is greatly appreciated.”

He turned to Amara. “I will join you all when I’ve finished here.”

She looked up at Thranduíl, then back at him. “Why do you look so serious? Is something the matter?”

“Not at all,” he assured her, catching her hand to give it a gentle squeeze. “I’m about to throw myself on my proverbial sword for Kili and I think I’ll have but one chance to get it right.”

She leaned in and whispered, “Tauriel?”

He nodded. “Exactly.”

“Well, good luck.” She bent to brush his cheek with her lips, a hint of laughter in her voice as she murmured, “Remember, be nice.”

“Am I ever not nice?”

She pulled away, one brow arched, “Ish kakfe—”

“Unfair. You said yourself I was in unimaginable pain and so could not be held—”

“I did and you were. Just tread carefully. Elves are vain and Thranduíl more so than most.” She patted his shoulder and followed after Balin, who waited as the rest of the dwarves filed out of the throne room.

Thorin turned back to the Elven King, who now stood atop his high dais. With extreme care, so as not to trip over his robes, he slowly descended and swept toward him. “What is this about? You seemed quite adamant that you were interested only in war the last time we met.”

“Nearly dying has a way of changing the way one looks at things,” Thorin replied evenly. “I have had time enough to reflect on my actions and the mistakes I made leading up to the battle. And now, I’ve come to rectify those mistakes.”

“Have you?” A hint of amusement wove into Thranduíl’s voice, his gaze direct and unwavering. “And if your terms do not interest me?”

“They will.”

Lorsan led the group down deeper into the palace, where the air felt even colder and damper, and smelled of moss and rainwater. Amara shivered from the dampness, wrapping her arms about herself and rubbing her upper arms to try to warm herself, for all the good it did.

The others didn’t seem to notice the dank chill. Either that, or they didn’t care, for they chatted amongst themselves. She lingered behind them, looking about at how the roots from the trees of Mirkwood wove through one another to make the walls of the palace below.

“Amara?”

She froze at the soft, smooth voice that skimmed over her ears like satin. She knew that voice—or had known it, was more accurate—and when she turned and spotted the tall, slender he-elf, with the shimmering blond hair and eyes that were almost as dark as freshly watered soil, her smile rose of its own. “Aiduin?”

“You do remember me.”

“As if I could forget,” she said with a laugh as he caught up to her and threw his arms about her. “How are you?”

“I was fine but now, I think it safe to say I am even better! What brings you to Mirkwood?”

“She’s with us,” Dwalin growled, coming up behind her. “And it would be in yer best interest, laddie, to take yer hands from her.”

Aiduin’s eyes went wide. “I beg your pardon?”

Dwalin none-too-gently knocked Aiduin’s arms from either side of her. “There. Was tha’ simple enough for ye?”

“Dwalin!” She glared at him over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Thorin won’t like another man putting his hands on ye.” Dwalin glared at Aiduin. “He won’t like it a’tall.”

“Thorin?” Aiduin turned his puzzled look to her. “Oakenshield? You’re with him?”

She nodded, but before she could say anything, Dwalin cut in with, “She’s his intended. So, if I were ye, I’d make myself scarce before he sees you.”

“Dwalin!” Amara gritted through clenched teeth. “That’s enough.”

She turned back to Aiduin. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d decided you were going to strike out for parts unknown?”

“Miss Amara,” Balin stepped up alongside his brother, “you should come along.”

“You all go on ahead and I will catch up in a few minutes.” She gestured to Aiduin. “He is but an old friend and I’d like to catch up with him.”

Balin and Dwalin both frowned, which made her frown right back at them. “Do not look at me that way. Go.”

“Thorin won’t like this.”

“Why? There is nothing to like or dislike. Aiduin is, as I said, an old friend.”

Balin shook his head. “Very well. But—”

“If you say Thorin will not like it again, I’m going to scream,” she replied politely, but firmly. “Thorin will not care. Why should he?”

The brothers exchanged looks and she rolled her eyes. Then, she tucked her arm through Aiduin’s and said, “We have some catching up to do, don’t we?”

Aidiun didn’t look so certain. “Your friends don’t seem to think it wise.”

“It is fine. Besides, I’ve had only them for company for a fortnight. Now it is time for me to spend time with someone else for a change.” She smiled up at him. “So, shall we?”

Aiduin led her away from the grumbling dwarves, and she tried to ignore the nagging feeling that Thorin would indeed disapprove of her going off with another elf. But Aiduin wasn’t simply any other elf. He’d trained in Rivendell with her, before striking out for those parts unknown. How he came to be in Mirkwood was something she wished to know.

“Your friends seem to think you are going to get in trouble.”

She sighed softly. “They worry. They mean well, but at times, they can be overbearing. So,” she looked up at him, “do tell how you came to be here?”

“It’s quite simple. Mirkwood needed a healer. I needed work. Thranduíl took a liking to me and here I am. How about you? Are you still in residence in Rivendell? Or do you now wander like the dwarves?”

She smiled as they strolled along an open walkway, away from the palace and into the woods. It didn’t feel quite so suffocating out in the forest itself. “I wander with the dwarves now,” she told him as they stopped near a small pool. Trees alive and dead were all around, fallen over the pathway, vines doing their best to reclaim them. “Although, wander is not the correct term, I suppose. I’m journeying to Erebor.”

“As their healer?”

She shook her head. “No. Thorin and I… We are to be married.”

Aiduin’s smile faded, but only just. Then, he caught it and it returned in full force. “You are betrothed to a dwarf? I am not so certain I believe that.”

“Why? Why could I not be betrothed to one?”

“Well, because… he’s a dwarf. And you, Amara… you could have any elf you wished. If you set your sights on him, even Thranduíl would be unable to resist you.”

“I am hardly interested in Thranduíl.” She let out a laugh then, lightly punched him in the arm. “But I am interested int what you’ve been doing. So, do tell.”

“Me? Not much, I’m afraid. I told you, I wandered about here and there, and needed work, so here I am.” Aiduin shook his head. “Hardly a fascinating tale.”

“Oh, but to one who’s never been beyond Rivendell’s borders, your vagabond life is utterly fascinating to me.”

“Really? It’s a lot of traveling, sleeping in strange places, and never knowing where your next meal is coming from.”

“Ah,” she laughed, “a true vagabond.”

“More or less.” He leaned against the low wall of woven branches. “Do tell me, how is Rivendell?”

She hesitated, a feeling of homesickness rising to squeeze her heart. “It was fine when I left. I was fortunate in that my replacement was right under my nose, and a pleasant surprise as well. Lord Elrond is the same as always, although he was a bit weary from having so many dwarves in residence.” She looked off in the direction the dining hall, where muffled shouts and laughter floated from. “They are a lively group, you know. Very high-spirited.”

“And how did a dwarf win your hand? This I must know.”

“He and his nephews came to us gravely wounded.” She turned back to meet his gaze. “The Battle of the Five Armies, you know.”

“I heard about it, yes. These are Erebor dwarves or Iron Hill dwarves?”

“Erebor.” She reached up to touch the braid Thorin had woven in her hair, her fingertip tracing along the ornament. “Thorin is their king.”

“A king?” Aiduin’s eyes widened. “Is that so?”

“It is. But he nearly lost his life at Ravenhill. Azog the Defiler ran him through.”

“He is fortunate he found his way into your Healing Room.”

She sighed softly, still tracing the ornament as she remembered that very first day, when the attendants brought Thorin into her Healing Room. “I didn’t think he would survive that night, to be honest. The sheets over and beneath him were absolutely soaked in his blood, it had soaked through his clothes, the mail he wore, and he was so deathly pale.

“But,” she lowered her hand, clasping it with her other one, “dwarves are strong and they are fighters and he held on. No matter what setback he faced, what challenges he had—and there were quite a few—he met them head on and beat them.”

“He sounds very lucky.”

She nodded. “He was. Mahal was on his side.”

“I think it’s more he was in the best of hands.”

A pleased heat stung her cheeks. “Oh, I don’t know about that, though I thank you just the same. But he’s of the line of Durin and Durin’s Folk are strong. I think he would have lived regardless.”

“So,” Aiduin looked over at her, “what brings you all here? I should think you would be making for Erebor.”

“We are, but Thorin’s nephew, Kili, is sweet on an elf named Tauriel. Because of her—“

“Tauriel? The captain of the guard?”

Amara shrugged. “I don’t know. Is there more than one Tauriel here?”

“Well, no, but I thought she was sweet on Legolas.”

“Legolas?”

“King Thranduíl’s son.”

“Oh.” She didn’t quite know how to respond to that, for she didn’t know if Kili knew about Legolas.

“Amara?”

She looked over and smiled as Thorin strode toward them. “How did your meet with Thranduíl go?”

“Fine, thank you.” Thorin didn’t return her smile and in fact, glared at Aiduin as he said, “I thought you’d be with the others.”

“Well, I would have, but then I bumped into Aiduin.” She slid her arm through Thorin’s and said, “Thorin Oakenshield, this is Aiduin Drannor. Aiduin, this is Thorin Oakenshield.”

Aiduin smiled and held out a hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Indeed.” Thorin didn’t take his hand. He didn’t smile. In fact, she could almost feel the hostility radiating from him. “How do you and Amara know one another?”

“We trained together in Rivendell,” Aiduin replied, lowering his hand. “She was Ilyana’s star pupil.”

“Oh, hardly. You were far more skilled than I.”

Thorin’s arm stiffened against her. “We should join the others.”

With that, he turned and gave a sharp tug on her arm to pull her back toward the dining hall. She peered back over her shoulder at Aiduin, who stood there almost dumbfounded. “Thorin, that was rude.”

“Ask me if I care,” he growled, guiding her back along the walkway.

“What is the matter? I was only talking to him.”

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

“Didn’t like the way he—“ she rolled her eyes—“and how was he looking at me?”

“As if he was trying to picture you naked.”

“Thorin!”

“What?” He glanced at her. “He was.”

“That is ridiculous. He is a friend and that’s it.”

“I’ve never heard you mention him.”

“Well, I haven’t seen him in years, so…”

“Trust me, I know what I saw.”

By then, they’d reached the dining hall and she yanked her arm from his grasp. “You are being ridiculous, do you know that?”

“Am I? I should think I know a look like that when I see it.”

“You are and I am done discussing it. He's a friend. No more and no less.” She moved down and sank onto the bench beside Dwalin.

Thorin followed her, sitting across from her. “Do you want to know how I know how he was looking at you?”

“No.” She glared at him. “I don’t, really. Because this entire conversation is silly.”

“Too bad, because I’m going to tell you.” He cast a sidelong glance at Dwalin, who shrugged and did not look away.

“I am not having this discussion here.”

“Fine.” He rose and came around to her side. “Walk with me, then.”

Mindful of the eyes on them, she sighed and stood. “Very well. But I think you are being ridiculous.”

“So you’ve said. Excuse us,” he said to the others, his hand coming to rest at the small of her back as he guided her toward the far end of the dining hall, where the room opened to another walkway.

Once they were out of earshot of everyone, he turned to her. “Do you know how I know?”

“How?”

“Because I am fairly certain it’s the same way I look at you.”

She just stared at him, her irritation draining away as she moved to slip her arms about his neck. “Thorin, he is but a friend. And even if he is looking at me that way, you can be certain I am not looking at him that way.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Thorin.”

“I don’t. And if it weren’t for the fact that we are all worn out from traveling here, I would say we were leaving this evening. But I have to admit, I’m looking forward to sleeping in a comfortable bed this night and one that has no questionable smells or stains or extra dwarves. We can leave at first light come the morning.”

She smiled. The last inn before Mirkwood had been nothing short of a horror, as the innkeeper had only three rooms for the fourteen of them and she and Thorin shared theirs with Fili, Kili, and Bofur. “No. This evening, we should have some peace. Did you know Bofur sings in his sleep?”

“I did, actually.” He sighed softly, leaning in to press his forehead to hers. “I’ve no wish to fight with you, amrâlimê.”

“Nor I with you.” She threaded her fingers through his hair. “And you’ve nothing to worry about, you know. Maralmizu, Mr. Oakenshield. Nalish.”

She breathed a sigh of relief as his eyes softened and he murmured, “Maralmizi, kurdelê.”

Disaster averted.

[bisexualklausmikaelson]

and all the magic we made (11/20)

-

“Year number 3443,” Kol laughs, leaning over a brooding Klaus who keeps staring at his phone. “And she still hasn’t called me back.” He laughs. “Oh if only I had enough balls to call her, or text her first…s’not like I know her number or her address, for that matter -“

“I’m not a stalker, Kol,” Klaus interrupts, tearing his eyes off his screen in order to glare at his younger brother.

He’s rolled on to the bed, right beside him, charming little smile never leaving his lips.

“Not anymore,” Kol winks.

Rebekah can see the hot fumes coming out of Klaus’ ears from the kitchen. She rolls her eyes, bringing over breakfast for the three of them.

“Are you two at it again?” She whines, huffing while taking a seat between her brothers. “Can’t we just have this one peaceful moment between us?”

Klaus stares at Kol, who was scarfing down the eggs and toast all in one swallow, like an animal.

“Not bloody likely,” he sighs and, just as his brother is about to protest -

There is a knock at the door.

-

He always thought that if treachery could be a colour - it would be red. Not bright like the strawberries, or as dark as cherries…but sort of like an in-between - like crimson? No, scarlet…vermillion?

“Hey,” she interrupts his trail of thinking, cocking her head to one side as he opens the door.

“Hayley,” Klaus realizes, as she walks passed him to enter his room.

“Don’t forget me!” Hope exclaims, trailing closely behind. “Mommy said we could hang out today,” she cheers, grabbing his leg again.

Klaus wobbles, taken aback by their sudden visit. He knows he’s happy to see them, he must be because there’s this weird bubbly feeling inside his chest.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” he settles on, noticing how her hair is perfectly curled and her make-up looks flawless.

He’s even more surprised - she got dressed up for him.

“I was in the neighbourhood,” she whispers, hoping he doesn’t catch her obvious lie.

“Well I uh-” And just before he’s able to make a move, his siblings chime in.

“Oh my God,” Rebekah cheers, picking up his daughter. “Is that my darling nie- err- I mean my sweet little Hope?”

-

The last time they had all been together like this was back in high school.

Back when Kol was a shy and nervous sophomore, and Rebekah tried dying her hair brown. Klaus and Hayley were in a full-blown relationship.

And now, it’s well, something else.

It’s his estranged daughter running around and chasing his siblings, making them feel like they’re kids again. And the woman he's hopelessly still in love with, wearing red -

“She seems to be having a good time,” Hayley smiles as Klaus leads her to his balcony. He closes the door behind them, allowing them some privacy.

“I believe so,” he nods. “It’s hard to ever have a dull moment with these two,” he points to his brother and sister, hiding behind furniture and laughing their lungs out, loving every moment they get to feel young again.

“When did Kol get in town anyway?” Hayley asks.

Klaus rolls his eyes. “Don’t get me started on him,” he sighs. They both share a laugh and it’s bittersweet. It makes him realize how much he really missed her. “I’m glad you’re speaking to me again,” Klaus says.

“Yeah well,” she shrugs, thinking of their kiss. “Despite how upset I was that night, I was still serious when I said I want you in Hope’s life.”

Just then, Hope smushes her face against the glass door of his balcony, sticking her tongue out and snickering away.

It is only after she’s run-off that he notices the hear shaped locket loosely hanging around her neck.

“You gave her my necklace,” he realizes.

She blushes, refusing to offer him the upper hand. “That,” she breathes. “Doesn’t mean anything,” Hayley settles on.

(She wants him to believe her but, the resolve in her face is so obvious).

“Sure,” Klaus hums. “You keep telling yourself that,” he smirks. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, love. I suppose, I’m more of a pass-out-from-an-alcoholic-stupor kind of lad -“

“Klaus,” she says, looking upset. “I’m serious, just because I might be willing to brush off that kiss of yours doesn’t mean that you can just say whatever you want to me.”

He takes this chance to get closer to her, daring himself to kiss her again.

“You’re wrong about that, love,” Klaus tells her. “I can say whatever I want, I always have and I always will. And for the record, I don’t care if it upset you, I don’t regret kissing you. I never will.”

This is him, she thinks, this is the old Klaus, the one she fell for, the one who stole her heart.

The one who’s lips are inches away from hers - if she could just close that small gap between them…if she could just be brave.

“Mommy!” It’s expected that her daughter chooses this moment to burst into the scene. “Look what Kol taught me!” Hope yells, as she flips into a handstand.

And before she can even react to the fact that her child is doing stunts on a balcony, “Hope,” Klaus has grabbed her and taken her inside. “Stop that, you’re going to hurt yourself!” He shouts, sounding upset.

Hayley is caught off-guard, this is the first time she’s seen daddy-Klaus in action. Oh God, she did not just call him that -

“It’s so fun having brothers and sisters,” Hope snaps, forgetting all about the man yelling at her for being reckless. “Mommy, can you give me one?”

Hayley’s cheeks grow beet red - Klaus’ laughter rings through her ears and she swears she hears him hum a soft ‘maybe’ under his breath.

-

It’s late in the evening when they finally start heading home.

Kol watches his brother stammer around - he’s anxious, hesitating to ask Hayley if he should drive her home, if he should see her again.

Just go for it, he hears Rebekah whisper as they both watch from the sidelines.

She’s hopeless, he thinks, realizing how hard she roots for love - how much she believes in it.

It makes him believe in it too, so he picks up the phone and dials her number.

“Hello Davina darling - how are you doing this evening?”

-