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moviemagistrate · 4 years

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ONCE UPON A TIME…IN HOLLYWOOD review

ONCE UPON A TIME…IN HOLLYWOOD is my favorite movie of the 2010’s.

I’ll give you a minute to put your recently-blown mind back together.

So why do I love this movie so much? The overall response to Quentin Tarantino’s supposedly penultimate opus has been very positive if not rapturous, but I’ve seen some surprisingly lukewarm and even negative reviews, with people criticizing it for being slow, meandering, lacking in depth or *shudder* boring. Obviously the quality of any movie is subjective, as I’m quick to remind anyone who hates Michael Bay movies, but I honestly don’t understand people who dislike OUATIH. Maybe it’s a matter of expectations, because I didn’t know how to feel about the film for much of the first time I watched it either.

The year is 1969, a time of great political and cultural change in the country and in the entertainment industry. The star-driven films of yesteryear are giving way to grittier, artsier, more auteur-driven works as we primarily follow Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio), former star of a popular cowboy show whose failed attempt to start an A-list movie career has left him relying on guest spots as TV villains-of-the-week to stay afloat. This is wonderfully laid out in the opening scene where he meets casting director Marvin Schwarz (Al Pacino, easily his best role since JACK & JILL), who lays out Rick’s lowering hierarchical status (“Who’s gonna kick the shit out of you next week? How about Batman & Robin? PING. POW”), while offering him an opportunity to be a leading-man again in Italian pictures.

Tagging along is Rick’s best, and maybe only, friend Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt), Rick’s go-with-the-flow stunt-double who in the slowdown of Rick’s career has effectively become his driver and gofer, as well as Rick’s sole source of emotional support. Rick is also neighbors with Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie), the beautiful young actress and wife of then-superstar director Roman Polanski (whose inclusion in the film is minimal and handled tastefully), as she lives out her idyllic life, beloved by those around her like the ray of sunshine she was in real life. Her gated, hillside home looms over Rick’s, as he ponders aloud about how even meeting her the right way could resurrect his career.

For almost two-and-a-half hours, we follow these three characters as they just live out their lives, Rick nursing hangovers and having emotional breakdowns in front of his 8-year-old co-star on set while contemplating his future, Cliff going where the wind blows him while taking care of his adorable and highly-trained dog, and Sharon as she drives around Old Hollywood, spends time with her friends, and sneaks into a matinee showing of one of her movies, her eyes and infectious smile beaming with pride when the audience laughs at her comedic timing and cheers her martial-arts prowess.

I think it’s safe to say it’s not the film any of us were expecting from Quentin Tarantino. Having only made loud, gory, over-the-top genre pastiches for the last 15 years, you’d expect from the trailers for this to be about an actor and his sexy stunt-double getting mixed up with the Manson family before teaming up with Bruce Lee to save Sharon Tate from her horrific real-life fate, mixed with the filmmaker’s usual self-indulgent homages to films of yesteryear. While some of this is true to some extent, it’s surprisingly a much more relaxed, easygoing dramedy that follows a trio of funny, charismatic people as they just…exist, as people living in the moment instead of relics.

OUATIH is much more concerned with atmosphere, character, and capturing the feeling of a bygone era than the traditional narrative structure. It’s more effective than pretty much every nostalgia trip movie I've ever seen because you can feel Tarantino's affection for this era of his childhood bleed through every character, car, song, radio advertisement, TV show, background poster, etc. It’s through this meticulous level of detail and willingness to just hang out with these characters and take in this world that he reconstructed, Tarantino successfully resurrects the era in all its 35mm glory, but with the knowing twinge of real-world melancholy.

I guess the reason I love it so much is because the love that Tarantino has for everything and everyone in it is so tangible that it’s infectious. Watching OUATIH I honestly felt like I understood him better as both a filmmaker and as a person. He shows a level of restraint and maturity I haven’t seen since JACKIE BROWN. Even most of his trademark foot fetishizing is tasteful and subdued (I say “most” because I recall at least three close-ups of actresses’ feet that definitely made him a bit sweaty behind the camera). He’s a weird, shameless nerd with a big ego, but he’s 100% sincere about expressing his love for film and its rich history. And it’s this love, and the skill and style with which it’s expressed, that just put a big smile on my face each of the 6 (SIX) times that I’ve seen it since it came out.

Tarantino offers a tantalizing contrast between reality and fantasy. Throughout the film, as the characters of Hollywood live in their own idyllic world, relaxing in pools or driving around in bitchin’ cars, we also see the disquieting eeriness and griminess of the Manson family. The soundtrack and accompanying old-timey commercials for tanning butter or Mug Root Beer that plays through a lot of the film is a joy to listen to, but we also hear news bulletins of the war in Vietnam or the aftermath of the Bobby Kennedy assassination. You could argue this is just to set the scene for the era, but it feels too deliberate, because even after that joyously fantastical ending, we remember that it was just a fairy tale and real life didn’t turn out as pleasantly. Tarantino’s ability to make his world and characters so meticulously detailed and lived-in works to great effect in instilling a bittersweet melancholy to this film in a way I was really taken aback by. It feels like a window into his soul, someone who yearns for the fantasy of the world he grew up in but remembering that not all good things last and not everything in your nostalgic past was good to begin with.

One beautiful, spellbinding scene is Rick and Cliff coming back from their excursion into the world of Italian filmmaking. In this montage, we see Rick, Cliff and Rick’s new Italian wife arriving at the airport and driving home before unpacking their baggage, interspersed with Sharon Tate welcoming a guest at her home and having lunch, before cutting to a series of shots of famous LA landmarks like Grauman's Chinese Theatre, Taco Bell, and Der Wienerschnitzel all meticulously resurrected in their retro glory as they light up the night. “Baby, baby, baby you’re out of time”, sings Mick Jagger as we’re watching multiple stories about people who are each embodying those words: Rick’s career, his friendship with Cliff, Sharon Tate, and Hollywood itself.

Tarantino himself feels like one of the last mainstream auteur filmmakers, as well as one of the last and biggest proponents of shooting large-budget movies on film (even Scorsese’s embraced digital now, the fantastically-talented traitor). And with the rise of streaming services, one can’t help but feel like the movie-going experience itself is also becoming obsolete, especially recently, what with theaters going to war with distributors over fucking TROLLS: WORLD TOUR, not to mention that global pandemic we’ve been having lately all but killing general audiences’ enthusiasm for the movie theater experience (Christopher Nolan’s TENET certainly didn’t help). If all these things, both real and fictional, are indeed out of time, then at least with Tarantino’s penultimate film they get one hell of a bittersweet sendoff, a great time that’s more of an Irish wake than a funeral, and it’s a film I have no issue calling a truly introspective, late-career masterpiece.

And that’s without mentioning uniformly incredible cast. Leo DiCaprio, an actor I normally don’t care too much for, gives the best and funniest performance of his career as a dependent prima donna actor clinging to his remaining fame. Brad Pitt earns the hell out of his Oscar as an embodiment of old-school masculinity and charisma with an amazing set of abs (and everything else) whose outward coolness masks his mysterious past and complete badass-ness. Margot Robbie shines in her depiction of Tate, a beacon of warmth and likability who in many ways symbolized the love and carefree attitudes of the swingin’ 60’s. I’ve heard people criticize her character for not having a lot of dialogue, but to me it feels like they’re ignoring the visual storytelling, which just gives way to them assuming the film is sexist just because the female lead isn’t constantly monologuing. Every member of the supporting cast is memorable with their own quirks and great lines, no matter their screentime.

And of course, it wouldn’t be a Tarantino joint without some truly hilarious and shocking violence, and without going into spoiler territory, the last 20 minutes delivers on this promise to such a degree that I feel comfortable calling it the best thing he’s ever done. Some may decry the climax as unnecessary or over-the-top, but the way it leads to an alternate world while subtly acknowledging what happened in the real one is cathartic beyond belief. And if you’re paying attention, every scene in the movie has been quietly building towards this finale, which to me takes away any potential of feeling meandering in the story. If you saw the movie and didn’t much care for it, I recommend giving it another watch. Having the context ahead of time makes it feel so much more rewarding, and even on the fifth watch I’m noticing clever, subtle set-ups I missed beforehand.

It’s also just super cozy and really easy to watch. The two hours and 45 minutes fly by. I could watch a 4-hour version of this.

Quentin, if you’re reading this, please don’t let your last movie be Star Trek.

#tarantino #feet #hippies #brad pitt

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anchored-in-high-tide · 5 years

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Evermore

Rating: General Audience

Fandom/Pairing: Sherlock (TV)/Johnlock

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 2068

Tags: Fluff, Post-Canon, Sherlock x Disney, Beauty and the Beast (2017), Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, Parentlock, Rosie wants to be a princess, Sherlock sings, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers

Inspired by the song: Evermore from Beauty and the Beast (2017)

He will tell him today, John decides as he carries the groceries back to their flat. Rosie will start school in a couple of weeks. It’s high time she gets her own room, to invite friends, to do homework, to have a place she doesn’t have to share with her father. Sherlock will surely understand that, won’t he? Yes, John will tell him today that he and Rosie will move out.

Maybe Sherlock already figured it out by himself. He has been a little quieter lately, has even declined some of Lestrade’s—according to Sherlock, absolutely boring—cases to spend more time with Rosie. Maybe he already knows and is just waiting for my final verdict.

That this arrangement had even worked for the past five years was a miracle, after all; Working on murder cases with a toddler on one’s arm was—a challenge, to say the least. In all those years following John and Rosie’s rather rash return to 221B Baker Street, neither John nor Sherlock have dared to talk about its implications for the future. They have simply enjoyed each other’s company, watched Rosie grow into a brilliant, funny girl, lived in the moment—because both know that those bits of happiness vanish faster than you can blink. You need to hold on to them as long as you can. The future will arrive soon enough and spoil all your plans.

And things have been fine, great really. Sherlock adores Rosie and the little girl, in return, is obsessed with her “Sher” that lets her ride on his shoulders and teaches her about bees and stars and disembowelment (if John doesn’t watch him very carefully).

John’s lips hurt a little as he smiles melancholically. Yes, they have had five good years. But even good things have to end sooner or later. Probably, Sherlock will even be glad to finally have his flat back, to experiment in the kitchen again and play the violin at all times of the night.

John just has to get it over with. It won’t be that bad. It’s not like they won’t spend time together anymore. He’ll make sure to find a place as close by as possible so that Sherlock can see Rosie whenever he pleases. He can’t separate them, not after everything Sherlock has done for them.

It has taken John longer than he cares to admit adjusting to his life as a widower, to cope with all the traumas and terror he has lived through. He couldn’t have done it without Sherlock—his help with Rosie, his friendship, his companionship. By now, he is factually Rosie’s second parent. John doesn’t want to break their bond. It would devastate all three of them.

But they can’t keep on living in denial about the lack of space for a rapidly growing child. They have to find a new place, to move on. They can make that work. They always have.

As he unlocks the front door and steps into the familiar hall, John can already hear the music floating down the staircase from their flat. He tries to remember the last time it has been quiet when he came home. Will there still be music in their new flat? Will the songs still sound the same without Sherlock?

John shakes his head determinedly, hoping that his painful thoughts would just fall off. He isn’t prone to sentimentality but having to leave Sherlock for a second time is bound to be an emotional train wreck, at least for him. Who knows what’s going on in that funny head of Sherlock’s? He wouldn't care, now, would he?

Following the soaring melody, John climbs up the stairs, trying to identify the tune. It’s either something from Frozen or Beauty and the Beast, probably.

Rosie is in the middle of her princess phase, ever since she has seen her first Disney movie. For the past weeks and months, she has barely talked about anything else than her favourites—Belle, Elsa, Moana, Cinderella, … She insists on watching the same films over and over again whenever John and Sherlock allow her some telly-time. The rest of her days, she spends reenacting her favourite scenes, soundtrack included. John can (more or less proudly) claim to know the lyrics to Let It Go even in his sleep by now.

At first, John was utterly horrified when his daughter for the first time expressed interest for something as far removed from science as possible, especially fearing that Sherlock might make some snarky comments about romantized and outdated gender roles, but, to John’s surprise and amusement, he has supported Rosie in her royal extravaganza with as much enthusiasm and diligence as he usually displays on a crime scene. He even convinced Mycroft to buy her a yellow gown—“Just like Belle’s! Thank you, Uncle Myc”—for her birthday. John has never seen anything funnier than Mycroft Holmes, the personification of the British Government, bowing to her majesty Rosie the First and graciously accepting her invitation to tea.

As he is half-way up the stairs, the music ebbs away and he hears Rosie’s high, demanding voice: “Now sing your song, Sher!” Her talent for bossing people around would do a real princess honour.

“As you wish, your majesty,” responds Sherlock’s silky baritone. He has never been one for strict parenting, John thinks as another melody begins. He would spoil Rosie rotten if John didn’t interfere, his heart being simply unable to deny her anything.

The lump in his throat grows with every step, the grocery bag weighing him down as if it were filled with lead instead of apples, toast, and beans. He will miss all of this. But what other choice is there really?

In the sitting room, only a few meters away now, Sherlock’s voice begins to sing a song John recognizes from Beauty and the Beast, the live-action version which Rosie has been only allowed to watch a couple of nights ago. She was a little scared of the howling wolves but the Beast won a special place in her heart right away. John must admit that he, too, enjoyed that particular film. Well, they can still have movie nights at their new place.

He mounts the last few steps, stopping on the landing to listen to Sherlock, the words now easily distinguishable:

“I was the one who had it all, I was the master of my fate. I never needed anybody in my life. I learned the truth too late.”

The fervency he lays into the lyrics makes John’s insides tingle. He has heard Sherlock sing to Rosie before but nothing has come close to this level of… honesty? The words drip from his tongue as fresh and true as spring water and make John hold his breath almost devoutly, a clandestine listener to a secret symphony.

With utmost caution as to not disturb them, John opens the door to the sitting room and peaks inside. The scene before his eyes is one to thaw even the coldest of hearts: Rosie, a head full of golden locks and mischief, is standing on the couch, her light blue dress playing around her bare feet as she bounces up and down in excitement. Sherlock’s slender figure is towering over her, the blanket the three of them cuddle under on cold nights draped around his shoulders as a makeshift cape. With melodramatic gestures and skillful vibrato in his honey-like voice, he entertains the little girl:

“I'll never shake away the pain. I close my eyes but he's still there. I let him steal into my melancholy heart; It's more than I can bear.”

John stops short in the doorway. He? Him? That can’t be right. As far as he remembers, the Beast sings this song about Belle. Why would he use male pronouns? Or has he misheard?

He eyes Sherlock carefully but the singing detective doesn’t show any signs of flustering, nor does Rosie correct him. Surely, John has misheard then. When it comes to reciting Disney songs, Rosie is more than unforgiving when someone makes a mistake. Unfortunately, she has picked up Sherlock’s habit to correct everyone on everything, although not with the same air of smugness as her godfather.

“Now I know he'll never leave me. Even as he runs away. He will still torment me, Calm me, hurt me, Move me, come what may.”

There it is again. He! John is sure he has heard it right this time. The syllable rings in his ears, echoes in his chest, lets every sinew in his body vibrate with alarming anticipation. He can’t move. Glued to the spot, he just keeps watching the two most important people in his life, both completely immersed in their little show. Rosie giggles satisfied as Sherlock kneels down in front of the sofa in an overly dramatic fashion, clutching his heart with one hand.

“Wasting in my lonely tower, Waiting by an open door, I'll fool myself, he'll walk right in And be with me for evermore.”

The deep note makes goosebumps spread all over John’s body. Deep inside his bones, something is shifting, falling into place, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. Why does this performance move him so much? It is heartwarming to watch, sure, but there’s something more, something significant going on. His breathing speeds up a notch without him being able to do anything about it. His whole body has become oddly rigid, no longer accepting orders from his mind. The bag full of groceries slips from his hand and lands on the floor with a thunk that makes Sherlock, at last, aware of his existence.

For a split second, their eyes meet and the hint of a coy smile tugs at Sherlock’s mouth but it vanishes so quickly that John is not quite sure if he has seen it at all. Rosie wins back his attention at once. Sherlock rises and swoops her off the sofa in one smooth movement, whirling her around in a pirouette that makes her squeal with laughter.

“I rage against the trials of love. I curse the fading of the light. Though he's already flown so far beyond my reach he's never out of sight.”

Rosie wraps her legs and arms around his body like a little spider monkey, Sherlock securing her with strong arms as he keeps spinning them around. He lets his head fall back and sings at full volume as they twirl on the worn-out carpet, his voice saturating the air with its enchanting timbre. Every single word hits John like a wrecking ball.

“Now I know he'll never leave me, Even as he fades from view. He will still inspire me, Be a part of everything I do. Wasting in my lonely tower Waiting by an open door—”

Sherlock’s eager eyes fix on John and a hint of sadness and something apologetic flit across his face as he halts in the middle of the sitting room, the few steps between them, the safe distance they had kept all these years, this unsurmountable abyss finally being bridged by a delicate construct of wavering words.

John burns up under his gaze and is yet unable to divert his own eyes from the face of the man he shares his life with. Why would he ever give this up? Why would he ever let anything as mundane as a missing bedroom rip Sherlock from his side again? He can’t leave him, he doesn’t want to, he has never wanted to, since the first day they met. The realization crushes him like an avalanche, breaking bones and convictions like brittle twigs.

“I'll fool myself, he'll walk right in. And as the long, long nights begin, I'll think of all that might have been—”

Sherlock knows. How could he not? Sherlock knows how John feels about him. And if the pleading look he gives John and the confession he has woven into the song are any indicators, he feels the same. It couldn’t be clearer. John lets out a disbelieving puff of air—half laughter, half sigh. Why has it taken him so long to see it?

“Waiting here for evermore.”

The last note of the song hangs unfinished under the ceiling of their home as John crosses the sitting room with three swift steps, takes Sherlock’s face in his hands, and shuts him up with a long overdue kiss.

@itsalwaysyou-jw @drunk-rambles @barbsiebabe @blueeyesbitch @bugzy-boiz

#johnlock #fanfic #one shot #sherlock x disney #johnlock fluff #beauty and the beast (disney)#song fic #my first one-shot #baker street boys

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years

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Chapter 20: The Inevitable

Chapters 1-10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19

Ugh. Spoiled, entitled prep school jock with a chiseled chin and washboard abs. Rafael could not wait until he could escape this meet and greet. He’d heard that Peter Stone had made quite a name for himself as a prosecutor in Chicago, but how hard could it have been for a guy like that to swan his way up the ranks? He was pretty much the poster child for straight, white, male privilege. Asshole. Juries probably didn’t hear a word he said, just sat there fantasizing about bouncing quarters off his perfect ass. Everything about him rubbed Rafael the wrong way, including the fact that his position at the D.A.’s office had been simply handed to him tied with a ribbon because of who his father was. Barba shook hands with Stone for appearances’ sake, then spent the remainder of his obligatory ten minutes in the conference room absorbed in his phone trying not to make faces.

At the end of the day, Barba made his way out the door into the late spring evening, grateful to be leaving the office before midnight. He did have some work in his briefcase for later, but at least he’d be comfortable at home. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught that new arrogant ass Stone standing on the sidewalk, being greeted with a hug by a woman who reminded him vaguely of someone. As he turned his head to glance at them, he realized she reminded him of Liv’s new detective. Because she was Liv’s new detective. It abruptly struck Rafael that Stone had just come from Chicago, and so had she.

Oh.

It came as a relief to him to learn that Detective Parker was in a relationship. That meant he could relax and just appreciate the way her clothes hugged her in all the right places. And he could admit that she made him laugh despite his intentions. He didn’t even need to worry that he found the way she overpronounced consonants in Spanish uncomfortably cute.

But it only made Stone more irritating to Rafael. Of course Stone would be with a woman like her. As he approached the parking garage, Rafael suddenly caught himself wondering what she’d be like in bed. He couldn’t help noticing that she had a superb body, and was apparently pretty… physical. ¡Coño! Shut up, Barba.

“You sure this is the one?”

“You don’t care if I’m sure. You just don’t want to move a couch.”

“Obviously. But you dragged me here, so if that’s the one you want, let’s do this.”

Laura looked around for the salesperson who had been hovering annoyingly for the past hour, now ironically nowhere to be found. In fact, it felt like now that they needed help, she and Peter were suddenly all alone in the furniture store.

“No one’s looking. Put it under your coat and let’s bolt.”

“I’d prefer not to get busted in my first week at the D.A.’s office.”

“I got my shield. I’ll arrest you, and we’ll say the couch is evidence.”

“You just want to flash your shield at people. You’re like a kid. Anyway, here he comes…”

The salesman and Peter wrestled Laura’s new couch into the back of Peter’s SUV, with about a third of it hanging out the back flagged with a big red piece of flapping plastic. Peter got progressively crankier as they reached Laura’s building and borrowed a dolly from the property manager. By the time they finally had the couch in her living room, he was barely speaking except to complain.

Fortunately, Laura had known Peter a long time. While he returned the dolly, she answered a knock on her door to a guy waiting impatiently with bags of aromatic Thai food. Peter was delighted when he came back to the apartment and saw it, immediately opening boxes and eating. As always, he didn’t bother with dishes.

“When did you call for take out?” He asked with his mouth full.

“At the store when you were loading the couch.”

“You’re a genius.”

“You’re a jerk when you’re hungry.”

He didn’t stop eating, even while he chuckled.

When dinner was over, Peter sprawled across Laura’s new couch, looking half asleep.

“I met your D.A. today.”

“Barba? What did you think?”

“Didn’t have the chance to say more than three words to him. McCoy had all the A.D.A.s stop by so we could meet – I don’t know why they do that. I won’t remember one of their names.”

“Except Barba.”

“They say he’s good. If half the stories are true, you should do OK with him.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Apparently he got a guy convicted by letting the guy choke him with a belt in front of the jury.”

“Seriously? Barba?”

“That’s the story.”

“I can’t imagine that. He seems really… I don’t know. Tightly wound.”

“You don’t like him?”

“He’s barely spoken to me. I’m beneath his notice. Although he has managed to mention about seventeen things I’ve done wrong. So there’s that.”

“Give him a shot,” Peter said, rolling to a sitting position and leaning over to kiss Laura on the cheek as she sat on the floor in front of the couch. “I gotta get going. I’m dead on my feet.”

“Thanks for helping me with the couch. I appreciate it.”

“You only love me for my body.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

It had been nice for Laura, seeing Peter, if only for a couple of hours. Or maybe because it had only been for a couple of hours. Peter was never going to be just a casual friend to her, no matter how much she might want that. Several times during the process of moving from Chicago to New York, she had thought they’d made a mistake doing it together. Not because she hadn’t enjoyed spending so much time together again. Just the opposite. She had enjoyed it too much. She had enjoyed him too much.

Peter’s forehead was creased with the wrinkles of troubled thoughts as he took the stairs down to the street. There were no easy answers with him and Laura. They’d decided to stay in each other’s lives because, having reconnected, they weren’t willing to give up the bond that existed between them. Romance aside, he liked Laura better than anyone else in the world. But “romance aside” was a whole lot easier said than done, because he was also in love with her. Trying to maintain a friendship and keep their mutual love out of it was very, very difficult at times. Like now. He would like nothing better than to be back in her apartment, with her writhing and moaning beneath him on her new couch. And he knew he could have persuaded her to do it.

But there was no point torturing himself, or her, when they both knew that indulging that want would only lead to the same heartache they’d already survived. Sooner or later, their past would catch up with them.

As he drove to his own apartment, he thought about their trip from Chicago. He and Laura had arranged to start their new jobs on the same day, so that they could drive to New York together with everything they owned stuffed into Peter’s SUV pulling a rented trailer. The problem was, helping each other pack their belongings into the trailer and then spending two days driving together had reminded him of all the reasons he’d fallen in love with her in the first place. They’d had the opportunity to really talk, to reestablish their friendship and attachment to each other. They caught fully up with one another’s lives, laughed over old jokes, and created new ones. They’d listened to all the eclectic old music they both loved and that had been the soundtrack of their life together.

For all sorts of reasons, they’d decided to break the trip into two easy days and spend a night in Cleveland. In retrospect, things would be simpler now if they’d just driven straight through.

They’d decided to stay at a nice hotel rather than a roadside cookie cutter place, and had rooms next door to one another. Once they’d checked in and found the hotel’s restaurant, they enjoyed a laughter-filled dinner that was a little more romantic than he’d wished it was. Since it was a weeknight, they’d had the restaurant practically to themselves. She had looked so beautiful in the candlelight, with her hair picking up the glow and her eyes sparkling with humor as she smiled at him, he couldn’t help but flirt with her. She didn’t seem to mind. He remembered trying not to wish this dinner was the beginning of a long evening of seducing her.

Peter had suggested that, since the hotel had a great pool and they were both stiff and sore from the drive, they should take a swim and maybe soak in the hot tub. She had agreed and they’d gone to their separate rooms to change.

When Laura had arrived at the pool, there had been no one there except Peter, who was already swimming laps. It had been a very long time since she’d seen him in nothing but swimming trunks, and she couldn’t help but stare. He was magnificent. His long, clean strokes showed off the definition of his muscular arms and back, gleaming with water under the lights.

The water had felt wonderful, relaxing and invigorating as they moved and worked their muscles. Peter had gotten out of the pool first and, like Laura, took the opportunity to stand with a towel around his neck, watching and appreciating.

After her last lap, they stepped carefully across the tile of the pool room and slowly eased themselves into the bubbling, steaming water. They sat side by side, not touching except where one of Peter’s outstretched arms came in contact with the back of Laura’s damp hair. For a few moments, neither spoke.

Peter started to stroke Laura’s hair with the back of his fingers. Although he tried to seem unconscious of doing it, in fact, they were both exquisitely aware of what he was doing. Without looking at him, Laura softly tried to object.

“Peter…”

He simply slid his arm behind her and gently but firmly pulled her next to him. She melted into his side with a sigh as he rested his cheek against her head.

“Just be here with me for a minute.”

Laura let herself believe that she could just enjoy his nearness and the feel of his bare skin for a few moments before he would take his arm from her and move away. That transparent self-delusion allowed her to lose herself in this moment without fear that she would have to be the one to control herself.

Of course, he didn’t let her go or move away. Instead, he reached his free arm around to cup her chin and pull her lips to his. He hadn’t been able to restrain himself and she was absolutely incapable of resisting. On some level, they’d both known when they decided to stop for the night that this would happen. They’d wanted it to, even though it would complicate things. Their arms were instantly wrapped around one another as he pulled her into his lap and kissed her senseless. They were beyond thinking, able only to feel a vague danger behind a profound need that had them both breathless as they devoured one another’s mouths.

Laura completely forgot that they were in a hotel, in full view of a security camera and anyone who happened to come in. She kissed Peter with all the love and passion she felt for him, lust overwhelming her senses as she lifted herself off him long enough to straddle him, never breaking their kiss. She sat moving her pelvis against his erection in the swirling, steaming water, then began to move one hand from his back across his shoulder, dimly intending to slip it between them to take him into her hand. She was fully ready to draw him into her, right there in the hot tub.

In the back of her mind, she laughed at herself. She’d purposely worn a one-piece swimsuit. Bikinis were too overtly sexy, and their bottoms were too easily removed; she’d told herself that her simple black suit was a much better choice for the chaste friendship she and Peter were trying to have. But this sultry, hungry grinding had always been more likely, and now she was determined to have him inside her, swimsuit or not.

Peter, however, reluctantly began to slow his kisses. He gradually backed off the pressure with which he was crushing her to him. She moaned in protest and tried to resist, pulling him closer and kissing him with increased fervor. But he persisted. Eventually they sat, foreheads together, panting and trying to gain control of their desire.

When they had caught their breaths a bit, Peter moved Laura off of him and set her down on the shelf-like bench under the water. He moved away from her.

“You stay there,” he said, still a bit breathless but grinning apologetically.

Laura was desperately conflicted. She wanted him passionately, and knew that he wouldn’t take much convincing to let her do all the things she wanted to do to him. But that would only make it harder for them going forward.

They gazed at eachother from their separate positions. Both felt the same way. Neither wanted to say the words that would mean they couldn’t give in to their desire, but neither wanted the inevitable consequences. Finally, when their breathing had slowed and their ardor cooled somewhat, Peter spoke.

“Do I owe you an apology?”

Laura made a face. “No, of course not. I just wish it wasn’t so hard being around you and not touching you.”

“Is it?”

“You know it is.”

“Sunshine.” The look on his face was pure proposition.

“Don’t, Peter. I can’t say no to you.”

“Then say yes. Just tonight. This hotel is Vegas. What happens here stays here.”

“That’s not how it works. Not for me, with you.”

She shook her head and began to climb out of the hot tub. He followed. They used their towels to dry off as well as they could, and put on the t-shirts they’d worn over their swimsuits. Although Laura’s was oversized, Peter noticed that it barely covered the tops of her legs as he followed her from the pool area, down the hallway, and up the stairs to their third-floor rooms.

He kept following her into her room. Without a word, she stepped aside to let him pass, then closed the door behind him.

“Peter…” She sighed, trying one last time.

He moved to take her in his arms. “Take a shower with me. Let me make love to you. You know how good we are together. I want you. I want this. And so do you.”

“I do want you, but it’s a bad idea,” Laura murmured, surrendering to the truth as she pulled his shirt up his torso.

“Terrible,” he agreed, yanking it over his head and dropping it. She lifted her arms while he pulled her T-shirt off, then dropped them as he slid the straps of her swimsuit from her shoulders and pulled it down her body to drop to the floor. When he kissed her, the kiss was slow, soft, and deep. The decision made, they could take as much time as their lust would allow. It took them a long time to make it into the shower.

It was a good thing they’d given themselves extra time to get to New York and get settled. They had stayed an extra two days in Cleveland.

In her fourth week at SVU, Laura was still on a steep learning curve. Lieutenant Benson was very different from Hank Voight, and the crimes they investigated were, in many ways, much more personal and devastating to the victims than those she’d worked in Intelligence. She was learning a whole new set of interview skills, and a new way of approaching investigations. The crimes the Intelligence unit had worked were usually about people protecting their illegal businesses. In SVU, the crimes had much more complex motives.

The squad stood or sat in the common area, studying the case board they’d been able to construct with what they knew so far. It was starting to come together. Everyone on the team had suggestions, theories, and insight to contribute, and the meeting was close to breaking up.

“We’ll re-interview the other students in the dorm who heard the fight, see if anyone heard two male voices in that room,” Olivia said to Barba, standing up and collecting her things from the table.

Barba, sitting on the edge of the table, took the last swallow of his coffee. “See if you can find the rest of the girl’s study group. I still think they know more than they’re saying.”

“Maybe, but I’m not sure how much that helps, given the timeline,” Laura said. “We might do better looking for whoever walked her back to the dorm.”

Barba kept looking at Benson as he said to Laura, “Hush. Adults are talking.”

He continued addressing Olivia with more instructions.

Laura saw red. She was sure her mouth was hanging open in her humiliated rage, which only intensified as it sunk in what he had just said to her, in front of her Lieutenant and her squad. Those who had been sitting scooted back their chairs and rose, moving to get to their various assignments.

Carisi stepped close to her as they crossed the room to their desks. “Don’t take that too seriously, he’s like that with everyone. Barba’s… an acquired taste.”

She pretended to shrug it off, appreciating Carisi’s friendly words, but she was too furious to speak. Had she been alone, she would have burst into hot, angry tears. She grabbed her jacket, grateful that she and Fin were leaving the squad room before she said or did something she’d regret. Although no one had seemed to react, which supported what Carisi had said, she was still embarrassed and very, very angry. I don’t care who the fuck he is, or how much of an asshole he is to everyone else. Nobody gets to speak to me like that.

It was still light outside when Fin and Parker finished their interviews on campus. Laura was calmer, having had a few hours to think about what Barba had said, but still by no means over it. It was fairly early. He would probably still be in his office...

Hearing her knock, Rafael looked up from some papers he'd picked up from his desktop. "Detective?" Laura took a breath and said, "With all due respect, Mr. Barba, I need to ask you not to do that again." "Do what?" He was only half listening, already beginning to read the papers in his hand. "Speak to me the way you did today. It’s demeaning to me and, frankly, even more so to you. I don’t expect you to listen to me, I don’t even need you to acknowledge me. But if you do speak to me, please do it with common courtesy." He looked up in some surprise. “Really? The newest detective in SVU is standing in my office calling me out.”

“Apparently.”

He briefly considered being offended by the audacity of this new detective. But he liked audacity. Besides that, he could see that she was deeply angry. He didn’t even know what he’d said to piss her off, but he knew himself well enough to know it was entirely possible that, whatever it was, it had been over the line. He appreciated the effort she must be making to be as respectful and polite as she was, given that he could tell she wanted to throttle him. He was intrigued. "And you thought you should come here and set me straight." "Not at all. Carisi says you talk to everyone like that. Fine with me. I don’t care how you talk to everyone else. But I am a woman in what is still very much a man’s world. I can’t afford to let anyone talk down to me.”

“I see. In that case, I apologize. I meant no disrespect.”

“To be honest, it's mostly that it was so dickish. I'd like to think you're not a dick."

He fought a grin. “And now you’re standing in my office calling me a dick.”

“To be precise, I called your behavior dickish. And I said I think you’re not a dick.”

Rafael looked at her for a long moment, waiting for her to crack a smile. She didn’t.

“And now, if I don’t do as you ask, I’ll be proving to you that I am a dick. Well played.”

She didn’t respond. This woman was genuinely pissed, and not at all charmed by his attempt at a joke.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” he said, as sincerely as he could manage under these strange circumstances.

"Thank you." She said, a note of genuine gratitude in her voice and her expression entirely serious. As she walked out, closing the door behind her, she hoped she hadn't just made a big mistake. But she didn’t think so. He was having trouble keeping a straight face. He could have been amused by her, which would piss her off. But she was very good at reading people, and what she was getting from him was different. She thought he actually respected that she’d stood up to him. And she definitely felt better He stared at the door after she was gone, a wide smile on his face. He shook his head and began to laugh. He was still laughing when he walked around his desk and sat down. This conversation had actually been pretty unflattering to him. But he couldn’t stop laughing nonetheless. Detective Laura Parker had chutzpah. She wasn't the least bit in awe of him. In fact, she had been perfectly politic as she basically called him a dick to his face. And since she was safely unavailable, he found himself looking forward to working with her.

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #rafael barba #raul esparza #peter stone #philip winchester #sonny carisi

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hazlouquitefinished · 6 years

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C, if Louis has a one and done album deal with Syco, why do you think he hasn't rushed to get it out, so the contract with them would be over sooner?

Hey, friend! Thanks for the message.

Before I start, we have no way of 100% knowing the exact terms of the deal. I hesitate to comment on this too much for that reason. I’ll share a few thoughts, though.

Number one, it frustrates me that some people still assume a debut solo album isn’t a big deal for Louis. It’ll be one of the most important events of his solo career; we need to step back from 1D days, where we were used to the unbelievably draining “one album a year” routine. That kind of turnaround is not normal. I’d be really sad to know that some people think of him as the kind of artist to rush such an important milestone, Syco circumstances aside.

We know how important his music is to him, and we know how seriously he takes these kinds of things - this will be a debut to the world, not just to the fans. So many people are going to be listening to it and evaluating him as an artist based on that one body of work - of course he’s going to spend a lot of time on it, even if he does have a “one and done” deal.

That said - sure, there absolutely could be other influencing factors, but before I get into those, I want to reiterate: Louis isn’t the kind of artist to rush out a debut solo album, regardless of circumstances. This fact is obvious based on his work ethic and devotion to his craft alone.

Moving on!

Album Release Date Speculation

Does anyone remember back when he first started talking about the album during the summer, and how he initially mentioned it could be out in late 2017?

In an interview with MTV UK during the summer, he said:

“In my head, I’m like 80% done with the album […] In an ideal world, it’s [out at] the end of the year.”

That quickly changed into “probably next year”, and then “early 2018″, and now maybe toward the end of the first quarter of 2018. Again, these kinds of delays are totally normal and could 10000% be due to the creative process alone.

Lots of news outlets used quotes from that same MTV UK interview all through the summer and fall as the release date moved out further - this next quote in particular when it started to look like the album wouldn’t be out until 2018:

“I’m very much a perfectionist. But I am nervous about it, because I want it to be as good as it can be, obviously. […] I’ve got an idea, and a vision, and a message; what to get across. It’s a difficult thing actually doing that across a body of work [on] an album. I’m nervous, but also really excited for the fans to hear it.”

Example from People’s Choice, September 2017:

As you’ll notice, he’s been evasive with putting an exact date or even month on it. I think that that’s, of course, at least partly due to the perfectionism aspect. Wouldn’t you want your debut solo album to be 1000% perfect, especially with the pressure he must be under?

Also: as I mentioned earlier, we can only touch the surface of how hard it must have been to record and tour simultaneously in 1D. Putting out an album a year must’ve been unbelievably difficult & draining. I think all of the guys are absolutely entitled to having more time to focus on the creative process, yet I only see people criticizing that when it comes to Louis. Sigh.

Other Possible Influencing Factors

I do think there could be (at least minor) influencing factors. There’s plenty of reasons why a record company might push back an album release date.

More on that under the cut.

Comparison #1: Liam

Let’s take a brief pause and look at Liam. He’s doing the same thing as Louis - taking time to work on his debut album. I know he’s signed to a different label altogether, but let’s generally compare.

Via a Universal press release in mid-November, his album release date was initially announced to be January 12th, 2018.

While this wasn’t officially confirmed, it’s safe to say that a press release is far more reliable than, say, an update account assuming a date.

On the 3rd of December, however, Liam told a reporter at the Jingle Ball that he had a finished album, and he only wanted to change “one or two songs” because of some producers he’d met.

Side note: two days later, it was announced that Camila Cabello’s debut album would be out on January 12, taking that spot from Liam. As I’ve said before, I don’t have a lot of knowledge about Liam’s promo, but he seems to do (at least recently) some cross-promo for Camila in interviews and the like. This may be related to them both being on the Jingle Bell Ball circuit, or possibly because she’s still a Syco artist.

Usually, Syco/Sony doesn’t shy away from having multiple drops on one day, but they seem to be really pushing solo Camila. If we’re looking at alternative reasons for an album date being pushed besides perfecting the sound – Perhaps Sony/Syco wanted the overlapping fans from Liam’s fanbase and her fanbase to focus only on her debut album.

I just found it interesting that his album got pushed back right before hers was announced, especially after his was announced via press release. It’s certainly possible that it’s just a coincidence, of course - they’re not labelmates, but as I mentioned, there are a few ties connecting them.

A week later on the 10th, Liam had more comments about the release date of his album:

“I wish I knew. It was almost done and then I decided I wanted to do something a bit different and push the boundaries. I’ve met some new producers that I really like, and I have a ballad-y kind of thing coming out with somebody, so that’ll be really cool.”

I noticed that a few of the Liam blogs I follow were wondering about that rationale, but again - I don’t want to comment too much on his stuff because I’m far less well-versed in his babygate and PR circumstances.

So, to summarize -

His album could’ve been pushed to accommodate Camila’s release, maybe due to both of their ties to Syco (hers current, his past) and competition between their similar fanbases. It also could’ve been pushed by the release of “For You” if he was a late add to the soundtrack, though that came out on the 5th, so it seems odd that that would be the reason. It also, of course, could’ve been pushed because he simply wanted to work more on it, even though it was finished at one point.

It could’ve been none of these reasons, and it could be a similar situation to this next comparison - who knows for sure!

Comparison #2: Sky Ferreira

Here’s a similar example from Sky Ferreira, who had a finished album that was then pushed back after it was complete:

Pic quality is grainy, sorry - basically, the actual album wasn’t released until late 2013, though it was planned for 2011. Sky was signed to Capitol - Liam’s label - so this is more relevant as a comparison to Liam than Louis, but it’s a similar situation.

In 2014, she had this to say about Capitol:

But it almost wasn’t to be. According to Ferreira, Capitol Records intended to release a different album this fall made up of songs she’d worked on with various collaborators. “It was okay,” the singer said, “but I wasn’t really proud of it.” (Lance Turner, who handles marketing at Capitol, said, “We’ve always supported Sky’s creative vision.”)

At the last minute, Ferreira persuaded the label to allow her to make her own record — provided she could work fast enough to meet a predetermined release date. So she recruited a pair of L.A.-based producers, Justin Raisen and Ariel Rechtshaid, and together they banged out “Night Time, My Time” in a 21/2-week burst of writing and recording.

“I felt like I was on a cocaine binge the whole time,” Raisen said. “We just got into this state of mind and went for it. There was no second-guessing.”

That sounds extremely familiar to Liam’s situation, doesn’t it? The album changed at the last second, added new producers, and Capitol is involved. Not making any claims, just drawing parallels here.

For context, Sky had a complicated relationship with her label, and there was friction behind the scenes over creative differences.

She said, “I do a lot of stuff behind their back. I have to because nobody ever listens to me! I do have supporters at the label, but I still have to deal with a lot of people who are like: ‘Er, I don’t want to spend that money on her.’"

Additionally, Capitol ended up recalling the finished album altogether - allegedly because of the cover. This blog compared the recall of Sky’s cover to a nearly-identical album cover made by Blind Faith in the 70s:

So, why is it that an album cover that was certainly controversial, but allowed to exist in the marketplace for 50 years, is suddenly deemed too racy and pulled from circulation? If one didn’t know better, one would almost think that it never existed in the first place.Sadly, the same fate awaits Sky Ferreira’s new album, which has just been recalled by Capitol Records due to the subject matter of the album cover. Keep in mind that the label had no problem releasing the album a mere two months ago with the original cover art.

As a result of the album being pulled, it sold far less than expected and Sky was dropped from Capitol.

Okay, so now we’ve made a few comparisons:

Liam’s on a similar timeline, and there’s curiosity surrounding his delay as well. (I use “delay” for lack of a better term because, again, this turnaround time wouldn’t be unusual to other artists.)

Sky Ferreira’s album was delayed because of friction with her label, demonstrating that albums can indeed be delayed for that reason.

Back to Lou:

1) Louis is a self-proclaimed perfectionist when it comes to his craft. An album a year is not the norm for most artists, so him taking the time to perfect his debut solo album shouldn’t be all that unusual.

2) That said, there’s a possibility that there are other influencing factors at play.

Influence 1: More general mismanagement.

Quote from below about JoJo’s mismanagement, which rendered her unable to release new material. One of her albums was rewritten and rerecorded three times over, but not released for years after the fact.

“One of those extreme situations where you have [a label exec] who is one of those guys who would just go to war and say, 'No, I’m not doing it,’” says David Byrnes, a partner at Ziffren Brittenham, whose firm has represented clients like Michael Jackson, The Rolling Stones, and Fleetwood Mac.

Influence 2: “Starving out” dedicated fans by limiting the flow of content.

@theyrereallyawful made a great post about the content starvation occurring, so check that out if you haven’t yet! Especially compared to the other guys, Louis’ team severely lacks in delivering content that is consistent, shareable, and easy to find. This has been happening for a long time, and (if they are intentionally pushing the album back) that could be another example of content starvation.

Liam’s digital content agency, WMA, has spoken about this very topic:

“One of the key learnings is that, for an audience like Liam’s, there is never too much content or too much you can do.”

So, overall:

To answer anon’s original question - Louis isn’t the type of artist to rush through an album release just to get it out there, especially not his debut solo album.

I don’t think there’s much of a delay in its release in the first place - or at least not one that would be unusual compared to other artists. I think Louis is definitely a perfectionist, and he’s certainly under a lot of pressure from a lot of people to deliver a good solo debut. If he takes a little extra time perfecting his album, so be it.

However:

I do concede - based on his team’s shitty, shitty history - that there could be other influencing factors at play. Namely, pushing the album back when it’s already finished could serve to starve out fans and/or could be an example of more general mismanagement.

The thing that makes me curious about that option is Louis’ wording in the first MTV UK interview –

“In an ideal world, it’s [out] at the end of [2017].”

All I know is that it will be out when it’s out, and I can’t wait to support and promote the fuck out of that masterpiece.😎

Beyond that, all we can really do is guess.

#here I am responding to a one-sentence question with an entire masterpost #asks

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fromherlips · 6 years

Photo

four christmases - an in your atmosphere drabble

what fun would it be if i only shared one heva drabble during BYE17 when heva THRIVE at christmastime? here are four different decembers throughout the rise and fall of our fave couple. but most importantly, merry christmas to everyone who celebrates and a happy monday to anyone who doesn’t. ily guys so much!

{ 2014 }

The weight on Eva’s shoulders finally seemed to lift as she walked off of FIDM’s campus for the last time that year. Sure, she had to be back at the beginning of January for the start of a new term, but even a few weeks with no classes or assignments felt like a relief. Her coursework had always been hard, but the further she got into her studies, the more difficult everything became to manage. This was to be expected, of course, but it didn’t stop the pressure from building until she felt like she would crumble under the weight of it all.

Eva headed straight from campus to happy hour with a few of her friends, running too late to stop back at her apartment to change. Her distressed jeans and oversized tee would have to do. It wasn’t her best look, but there wasn’t much she could do at that point. Her friend Audrey was going to give her a ride, acting at her designated driver as she hadn’t turned twenty-one yet and had her fake IDs confiscated one too many times to want to get another.

Audrey was waiting for Eva in one of the student parking lots, her windows down with some sort of indie song blasting through the radio. She assumed that she was listening to one of The O.C. season soundtracks again, one of her weird habits that probably had something to do with her idolization of Summer Roberts, massive crush on Adam Brody, and the fact that she grew up in Newport.

“Hey babe,” Audrey called out, waving her hand on the window to get Eva’s attention. “Cute jeans!”

“Thanks!” Eva called back, shuffling in her flat sandals so she wasn’t walking so slowly to the car. “Sorry I’m late, the exam took longer than expected.”

“It’s fine, I think Meg and Mickie are just going over now too,” Audrey replied, pulling her purse off of the passenger seat so Eva could sit down. “Katie and Toni are already there and I think they’re quite a few drinks in.”

“Fabulous,” Eva replied, dropping her purse on the floor next to Audrey’s. “I for one cannot wait to join them. This term was hell.”

Audrey raised one of her hands in the air as if to agree with what Eva had said. She pulled out of her spot, cruising through the nearly empty parking lot. Eva leaned back against the seat, letting the wind blow through her hair as she took in a deep breath. She couldn’t wait to crawl into her bed at her apartment and sleep in until noon the next day. But first, alcohol.

Eva wouldn’t have had as much to drink as she had if her friends hadn’t persuaded a few guys to buy her drinks. Most of them were in relationships, leaving Eva as the token single friend in the group. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, mostly because it gave her more time to focus on school and her designs. And sometimes it came in handy, like when a few potential suitors provided alcohol heavy drinks, presumably to make Eva forgive them for their horrendous flirting skills.

Regardless, Eva had worked up quite a buzz throughout happy hour, using the edge of the table as her support system after she’d downed her last margarita as a dare. This wasn’t a usual occurrence throughout the term. The girls liked to go out when they could, but it was hard to organize everyone’s schedules when it came to classes, work, internships, and all of life’s other responsibilities. So when they got together, things tended to get out of hand. Last time, Eva had ended up in the backseat of a guy’s car on a Saturday night, straddling his waist before the urge to vomit overcame her. She made it out of the car, luckily, but needless to say she had to get an Uber alone back to her apartment.

Eva made eyes at one of the guys across the bar, heavily debating whether she would try to make the walk over to introduce herself. In the midst of weighing her options, she felt her iPhone buzz in her back pocket. She figured she would ignore the call, checking her caller ID to make sure it wasn’t an emergency. But when she saw Harry’s name flash across the screen, her thumb immediately swiped across the screen to accept the call.

“Harry!” she squealed, stumbling away from the table to find a more quiet spot in the bar.

“Eva? Where are you?” he asked, no doubt confused by the loud noises in the background. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” she assured him, wandering back into the foyer that led into the main area. “Sorry, I’m just out with some friends for drinks. End of the term and all, you know.”

“Oh! Didn’t mean to interrupt, I’m sorry,” he apologized.

“You didn’t interrupt! I mean, you did but I answered so,” she rambled, pulling the phone away from her ear so she could hiccup. “What’s up?”

“You okay over there?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, just had a few drinks that’s all,” she replied, leaning her back against the wall. “M’fine though.”

“Someone’s a little drunk, aren’t they?” he teased, chuckling at her offended gasp. “You doing okay?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, leaning her head back so she could look at the ceiling. “I’m getting a little bored actually.”

“Really?” Harry asked. Eva could imagine him quirking his eyebrows, making one of his signature stupid faces. “Well, I’m in Los Angeles for the next two days and was hoping to see you before I head to New York for rehearsals and stuff.”

Eva tried to play it cool, wishing she hadn’t been so drunk. “Well, if you fancy picking me up at the bar, I guess I could spend some time with you,” she told him.

“Text me where you are and I’ll be there as soon as possible,” he replied. “I’ll call you when I’m there.”

“Kay,” she said. “See you in a bit, H.”

It took a few attempts to drop send Harry her current location, her fingers fumbling against her phone’s screen. He wasn’t that far away, already out running errands and meeting some of his other LA friends. Eva snuck back inside, trying to go unnoticed by her friends that seemed to scatter about. She grabbed her purse from one of the chairs near their table, safely guarded by Audrey while she sipped on a water.

“Leaving?” she asked.

“Yeah, sorry, my friend is actually coming to get me,” Eva said. “We should hang out sometime next week before the holidays. Shopping?”

“Text me,” she said, holding up her phone. “Have fun, Ev!”

“Will do,” Eva said, saluting her friend before looping the bag’s chain across her body. She could’ve waited in the bar with her friends, but she could feel her palms start to get sweaty, a nervous habit of hers. There was no reason to be nervous. She and Harry had been friends for over a year, albeit they rarely had a chance to hang out in person with Harry’s tour schedule. Their conversations were spread out on a lot of disjointed text threads, throwing in the occasional FaceTime session and even a few Snapchat exchanges (when he remembered that social media existed).

His good looks were undeniable, but it pissed her off knowing that those weren’t even the best thing about him. Try as she might to tease him, Harry had a good sense of humor and a good heart. Plus, she appreciated anyone who took time to pay attention to her passions and Harry always gave her the time of day when it came to discussing her designs or let her rant on about something that happened in class that she couldn’t shake.

But he was Harry Styles. He dated celebrities and supermodels, not random girls studying fashion at FIDM who lived in a studio apartment that barely fit her measly amount of belongings. Not that Eva wanted to date Harry. No, most certainly not. She wasn’t interested in a relationship, especially one with one of the most scrutinized male celebrities. That was a disaster waiting to happen, one she wouldn’t allow.

Eva didn’t answer Harry’s call, clutching her phone in her left hand as she walked out of the bar. Harry sat in his Range Rover out front, one of the windows rolled down so Eva could see that it was him. She waved excitedly, immediately feeling embarrassed about it. She would blame it on the alcohol, her go-to excuse if anything went haywire that night.

“Hey Eva,” Harry said, smiling at her as she slid into the passenger seat. “Did ya miss me?”

Yes, she thought, pulling the seatbelt across her chest. “Of course not,” she said, hoping to make Harry laugh. Internally, she let out a sigh of relief when he chuckled, eventually rambling on about things they could do that night as he pulled away from the curb.

* * * * *

The kiss. The stupid, fucking kiss that plagued her thoughts every moment her mind drifted from the topic at hand. They had spent his first day in LA eating too much pizza on the floor of his living room, talking about tour and Eva’s term. Her stomach ached from laughing so much that she had to lie on her back for an hour straight, trying so hard to keep her laughter at bay. Harry decided to follow suit, occupying the spot next to her, his shoulders lined up with hers.

Eva ended up going over to his house the next day, figuring that if he only had a couple of days in California that it was best to see him before he jetted off again, this time back home to England to spend the holidays with his family. Then, who knew what Harry had in store. She assumed there was another long tour, no doubt spanning a majority of 2015. He always seemed to be on the road, the ever so elusive Harry that floated in and out of her life.

They each had a mug of peppermint hot chocolate, discussing their plans for Christmas and where they were going. Eva was going to spend time back in Ventura with her family, a rarity during the semester because of all of her work. Harry spoke fondly of what he thought his mom had planned for him when he went back to Holmes Chapel, an event even rarer than Eva’s trips back to her childhood home.

He’d invited her to stay the night, but it wasn’t any different than what they’d done before. Harry had spent plenty of nights at Eva’s apartment, hogging most of the covers and the empty space in her bed. She didn’t mind, even if she pretended that she did to tease him. She didn’t think anything of it, figuring it would be easier than driving back to her apartment at night regardless.

And then, in the middle of a conversation about Christmas sweaters, Harry had to lean down and plant one on her. She had, admittedly, thought of what it would be like, though not at great lengths. It popped into her head at inopportune moments, usually in the middle of texting him while he was in another time zone. She’d imagine that his hands would look huge against her face while he cupped her cheek to draw her in closer. She was sure his lips were up to no good and was proven right the night before he was set to leave the country for a few weeks.

“Fuck you, fucking Harry fucking Styles,” Eva cursed under her breath, waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat on the week before Christmas. The kiss wasn’t just a kiss. It started off chaste and cute but ended up as a heated make-out session until Harry pulled away with a stupid crooked grin on his lips. They fell asleep in Harry’s bed in their usual position, but this time Harry and Eva faced each other with their ankles interlocked.

She didn’t know what to make of the whole situation. She’d asked after the first kiss what they were, the first stupid question that could leave her mouth. When he’d responded with “we’re us,” she agreed, almost too eager to start kissing him again. She hadn’t even thought about it until he was gone on the plane, unable to be reached and ask for clarification.

But god, was it a good kiss. She wasn’t sure what “us” meant, but perhaps she was more keen to find out than she had originally thought.

{ 2015 }

Eva loved hearing Harry talk about his career. He was passionate about his music, she could tell that from the first time that she had met him years prior. It wasn’t anything that he would ever notice about himself, but Eva felt like he was the most himself when music had something to do with the situation. Every time he came back to LA between legs or the tour or when they were finally over, Eva spent hours upon hours listening to every detail he could remember. Sure, they texted and talked while he was gone, but she couldn’t see the way his eyes lit up or the smile that never seemed to fade from his face unless she was in person, close enough to touch.

There were moments where guilt washed over her. There were plenty of television appearances that the boys had made for their newest album Made in the A.M. over the course of November and early December. Eva had gone to their performance at Jimmy Kimmel, but nothing else aligned with her class schedule. It was her last year at FIDM and she couldn’t afford to lose out on any time she had to work on her final capsule collection that was meant to be presented in the late spring.

That wasn’t where the guilt set in. Sometimes, he’d talk about interviews and performances, assuming that Eva had watched. The truth was, she couldn’t watch their interviews anymore. It had nothing to do with the boys and everything to do with her emotions. She told herself she wasn’t going to be the girl who got upset over Harry being gone because they were both living their own lives and following their own separate passions. Having Harry halfway across the world for months out of the year wasn’t going to break them, it wasn’t going to happen like that.

She tried watching one of their interviews and performances. She had forgotten which show it was for, but she hadn’t been able to find a link to stream it live. Instead, she watched it the next evening after spending the entire day on campus. She’d crawled into bed at eleven in the evening, but not before she heated up whatever was left in her fridge and poured herself a glass of wine. It was their first proper piece of promo for the album, something she knew Harry and the boys were beyond proud of.

But the second she saw Harry on screen, flashing his smile at the host, Eva couldn’t handle it. Perhaps it was the stress of school, but even she knew that she missed Harry more than she’d ever admit. She didn’t want to tell him, not in a deeper sense of the wrod, because he’d worry. Harry had his own things to worry about, adding in his girlfriend missing him wasn’t going to be another thing added to his list. She was an adult, she’d learn how to handle herself and her emotions, which meant no more keeping up with One Direction. She’d wait for the stories and hope for the best, trying to make sure that Harry never had anything to worry about when it came to Eva.

Harry had only been back for two days before he became a permanent fixture in Eva’s apartment once again. Harry had a beautiful house all to himself only thirty minutes away, but somehow, they always ended up lounging in Eva’s bed or occasionally sat around her tiny kitchen table that barely fit the two of them. Harry always said it felt cozier in her apartment, though she knew his house just made him feel lonely. He’d told her a few times before that it was too big and empty.

Eva had one last project to finish before the term ended, crouched over her desk to finish up sketches that she couldn’t get right no matter how hard she tried. Harry laid down on her bed with a book in his lap, flipping through the pages with his headphones on so neither of them could distract each other. Eva had promised that she’d only do an hour more of work, but that was three hours and a dozen drafts ago. Harry was always patient with her, letting Eva do whatever she needed to do for school. It didn’t make her feel any less guilty that she was wasting their limited time together working on school projects, but what was she supposed to do? Settling for less to save time wasn’t an option, so they had to make do with what they had.

It took everything in her not to rip up every single sketch she thought she had completed, wanting to start from scratch all together. Instead, she cleared her desk, getting the rough drafts out of her sight so she didn’t self-criticize every last one of them. She was feeling the pressure, even two terms before her capsule collection would be shown for people to see. It was only four looks, but they were vital for her portfolio. She needed the sketches and garments to prove that she was worth something and wasn’t just a name that people would see from time to time in the tabloids attached to Harry’s. She needed proof that she could do this and do it well, some sort of tangible product to erase anyone’s doubt about her because of who she was.

Eva practically collapsed next to Harry when she crawled into bed next to him, her eyes shutting the second her head hit the pillows beneath her. She listened to the sound of Harry closing his book, not even finishing the page he was on. For a moment, she heard the faint hum of whatever was playing through his headphones, paused soon after.

“Hi Ev,” he hummed, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Meh,” she sighed, refusing to go into more detail. She could handle it on her own. Harry didn’t need to be bogged down by this. He was supportive, through and through, and would shower her with encouragement and compliments. She loved him for it, but sometimes she needed reality, even if it meant that everything she tried to produce was complete and utter shit. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Me too,” he replied, sinking down lower on his back so they were lying next to each other. “We have two months together now though.”

“I hate that two months is a long time to us,” Eva confessed, keeping her voice to a low mumble.

“I know,” Harry sighed. “I’m going to be in LA the whole time though. I don’t think the boys and I have anything until tour rehearsals at the end of February.”

“Does this mean we have to actually grocery shop?” Eva asked.

“It might,” Harry said. “Are we going to be able to do this?”

“Let’s just play it by ear,” she joked, poking him in the side with her finger. “Are you going home for Christmas?”

“Yeah, for a week I think,” he said. “Gemma is coming up to stay at my mum’s house so I reckon it’ll be like the old days.”

Eva snorted, curling up closer to Harry. He adjusted his arm around her shoulder, his hand splayed out on her back. “That sounds really lovely, Harry,” she said. “I actually have something for you to bring to Gemma, from me.”

“You do?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, I, well, I had some extra fabric so I made her a top,” Eva explained. Gemma had seen a sketch of a top on Eva’s Instagram and immediately texted her about it. Eva took it as a joke to begin with, but then she had a sleepless night where she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry so she put herself to work. She didn’t want to work on any school projects, so she decided to make her sketch come to life, creating her first Eva Loren original for someone who wasn’t dating one of her brothers.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” he told her. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

“I wanted to,” Eva assured him. “She’s your sister and she’s been a really good friend to me.”

“Gem adores you,” Harry said.

“She’s very good at her older sister role,” Eva said. “I…well, I like to go to her when I…”

Eva’s voice trailed off, her train of thought lost completely, though it was somewhat purposeful. She always tried not to let Harry know what it was like for her when he was gone. She swallowed the lump in her throat, taking her time to breathe deeply while Harry rubbed gentle circles into her back.

“I know,” Harry murmured. “I, well, I was there when you called her at one of our UK shows.”

“Fuck,” Eva swore, burying her head into the pillows so Harry couldn’t see. “The last few months were hard.”

“They were,” Harry agreed. “I’m sorry that things have to be like this, Ev. I really am. I wish…I wish that they weren’t. A lot.”

Eva shook her head, still unable to look Harry in the eyes when she was so close to tears. “If this is how it has to be so both of us can do what we love, then it’s worth it,” she said. “It still doesn’t make it any less hard.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Harry sighed. “I’m sorry Eva, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t, it’s alright,” she assured him. “I did this to myself. You’ve only been back for a couple of days so having you here is new to me. I’m so used to you having to leave after a few days so…this will be a treat.”

“Yes it will,” he hummed. “Are you done for the night?”

“I can’t look at a pencil for the next twelve hours, at least,” Eva replied.

“Brilliant. I reckon we should watch a Christmas film and order some takeaway. You know, to be festive and all.”

“You want to be festive yet you’re pretty insistent on not getting a tree for your house,” Eva said, rolling over onto her back. She looked up at Harry, fluttering her damp eyelashes until they stopped sticking together. “Your living room has the perfect spot for one, why are you so stubborn?”

“Ask me in a few days and we’ll see how I feel about it,” Harry said, rolling his eyes at Eva’s comment. “One step at a time. So, what are we watching?”

{ 2016 }

Eva felt ill.

It wasn’t from the dollar slice of pizza she bought for dinner for the fourth night in a row, her bank account too empty to afford anything else as a sad excuse for sustenance. Some of her friends from work invited her out for drinks, but Eva didn’t get paid until the next week and had to dole out way too much money for a plane ticket back to California so she could see her parents for the first time in four months. Instead, she retired back to her apartment right after work (and stopping for a slice of pizza down the street), neither of her roommates in sight. They were both waitresses and bartenders and something else that Eva wasn’t quite certain of but didn’t care about because they were clean and paid the bills.

She was sitting in the center of their sofa, scrolling through Instagram for the first time since lunch. She had a blanket draped around her shoulders because the heating in their apartment was absolute shit and December in New York was no joke. It was Eva’s first ever winter and she wasn’t handling it as well as she always thought she would.

There was nothing left for her to scroll through on her own feed, so she swiped over to the explore page, always searching for fashion or beauty inspiration from the random photos that would pop up from time to time. She continued to scroll through, screenshotting a few pictures that stood out to her. And then, her finger froze, unable to swipe to the next photo. She stared down at her screen, her eyes refusing to tear from the photo in front of her.

It was a photo of Anne, Gemma, Harry, and their stepfather, all sitting around the table playing Scrabble. Eva’s breath got caught in her throat, the tears immediately welling in her eyes. Because even if there were three genuine smiling faces in the picture, her eyes only landed on the forced smile that was barely noticeable on Harry’s face. His features looked sullen, his skin lacking the usual glow it had. He looked tired, exhausted even, and there wasn’t a chance in hell that his smile was genuine.

Niall had mentioned that Harry had been home since tour ended. They didn’t talk a lot, mostly because it made Eva think about the situation more than she already did. But after everything happened with Harry during the end of One Direction’s last tour before hiatus, Eva couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t know he was doing okay. She figured that home would be good for him, like some sense of normalcy in his life.

She hadn’t seen a photo of Harry since before tour ended. He disappeared off the grid, clearly spending most of his time in the safety of Holmes Chapel. Eva unfollowed everyone connected to Harry off of social media, even some of her close friends. It wasn’t personal, but the constant reminder of Harry made it difficult to move on. Which, after seeing the picture Gemma posted, clearly had still not happened.

Eva needed to get fresh air. She knew the temperature was dipping closer to single digits, but that didn’t stop her from disappearing into her room only to come out a few minutes later dressed in more layers than she had ever worn before. She shoved her phone into her small bag, crossing it over her chest. She locked up the apartment behind her, clunking down the three flights of stairs in her massive winter boots, a birthday present from her parents for her first winter in New York.

She didn’t bother with headphones, letting the sound of the city fill her ears. She couldn’t focus on anything anyways. Everything seemed to fade in and out as if she were walking through a daydream. With her hands wrapped up in thick mittens shoved deep into the pockets of her coat, Eva walked. And walked. And walked.

Everything came rushing back to her at the apartment and she wasn’t sure how to handle it anymore. The first few weeks were awful. She barely left her flat during the beginning of July, stuck underneath the covers even if her apartment was too hot with her shitty AC. By the time she moved back home after her lease ended at the end of the month, she already had plans to move to New York by the end of August. Everything was happening faster than she expected, but she couldn’t turn down the opportunity that Jillian had recommended her for.

Thus, she thrusted herself into spending time with her friends and family in California, packing, and planning out how she was going to pick up and move her life across the entire country. But when she got to New York, she couldn’t help but ignore the overwhelming amount of loneliness she felt. The first month she’d go to work and straight back to her apartment where she’d usually watch movies alone while her roommates were at work. Slowly but surely she started getting friendlier with the girls at work, but it was a process that left her alone with her thoughts more than she preferred.

There were nights where she wanted to call him, just to hear his voice again. Not in interviews or in songs. She wanted to hear her Harry, the one that would tell her long, drawn-out stories just because he knew that she found his voice relaxing. She wasn’t sure how he was doing but based on the minimal amount of information she could gather from Niall, he wasn’t well. She didn’t want to feel responsible for his feelings, but there was always a pang of guilt lingering somewhere in the back of her mind. Maybe they could’ve worked things out if they had stayed together. If she had just gotten his sister or his mum involved, maybe she’d be able to have him focused on his music instead.

She didn’t know who she could talk to about Harry or how she was feeling. Their relationship was private for many reasons. She couldn’t ring up one of the girls from FIDM that didn’t completely shut Eva out after the terrible articles about her appeared. Their relationship wasn’t a spectacle or a story to share, isolating her even more than before. So she held it all in, only for it to end in her wandering around the streets of New York alone to get fresh air before she had a full-on breakdown after seeing a picture of her ex-boyfriend.

Even in her daze, it was hard not to notice the entire city donned in Christmas decorations. Buildings were lit up with string lights and snowflakes, red and green lights constantly reflecting off of the snow and slick streets. She, admittedly, had a lack of festive spirit that year, unable to get herself in the mood to celebrate the holidays. It was partially because of stress at her new job, missing out on spending everything but Christmas Eve and Christmas Day without her family, and that seemingly permanent wave of guilt that hit her every time she thought about being in England with Harry and his family the year prior.

Hours passed before Eva turned around to head back to her apartment. She wasn’t sure if the fresh air had done her any good, but it reminded her that she was where she wanted to be. She was living in New York working somewhat in fashion with time on the weekends to work on her own designs. This is what she wanted since she was a kid. Sometimes you just have to take the good with the bad.

{ 2020 }

“I feel like I’m missing a gift for somebody,” Eva said, her eyes scanning over the piles of presents she had meticulously organized on her mattress. “I ordered everything for my family right to my parents’ house in California. I have things for my co-workers, Jillian’s one of a kind dress is still waiting to be hemmed at the studio with Gemma’s trousers and–”

Eva’s train of thought was interrupted by Harry’s laughter, soon followed by his arms wrapping around her waist. He pulled her back gently, her back resting against his chest as they stood in the middle of her bedroom. They had just gotten back from Christmas shopping, as per Eva’s request, in a last minute panic to finish once and for all before the good gifts were gone. Harry tagged along willingly, though he boasted that he had been done with shopping for a month. That was only because he was in Paris at the end of November for some band related event and managed to sneak off unnoticed and buy a heap of nice things for everyone. That was, in Eva’s eyes, cheating.

“I’ve gone through your list already, you have something for everyone on it,” Harry assured her, leaning down to press a kiss on the top of her head. “Even if I told you multiple times that my mum and Gemma are not expecting you to send gifts to England with me because they’re going to see you for New Year’s.”

“They deserve to open them on Christmas Day,” Eva told him. “Besides, Gemma mentioned that she needed a Boxing Day outfit and I know those trousers would look great with a sweater I convinced her to buy last month.”

Harry laughed, shaking Eva’s body along with his own. “Are you just going to single-handedly change my entire family’s style?” he asked.

“I mean, it went so well with you,” Eva replied with a shrug. “I’m only kidding. Your mum and sister have great style. You, however, did not before you met me.”

“I resent that,” he said. “I was doing just fine.”

She didn’t even answer, choosing not to engage with Harry on this particular argument. Instead, she shimmied out of his grip, slipping away to carefully move the gifts into their corresponding bags that were already addressed to their recipients so Eva’s bed wasn’t covered in loose items. It was well past dinner time and she knew Harry was anxious to go back to his apartment in Manhattan with Eva to get dinner and have a cozy night in before he left for England on Sunday. She had canceled her Friday night plans with a co-worker, promising that they’d get together after Eva came back from England after the holidays.

They weren’t sure how to approach the holidays. Harry went to her house in California for Thanksgiving, but he didn’t want to impose on her time with family when it came to the holidays. After a few conversations about it, they decided that Eva would spend Christmas Eve and Day in California with her family and would fly out the next day to spend the rest of the year and the first few days of 2021 in England with Harry’s family. She was just happy to see Harry in person. Even with their tour schedule being far less intense than it was years before, she still felt like she was greedy about her time with him.

A year had passed since they’d gotten back together again and Eva could tell things were different this time. It’s almost as if their three years apart helped their relationship, not completely destroyed it like she had thought. Admittedly, when she ran into Harry at a party the year prior, she was certain he would have wanted nothing to do with her. Neither of them talked at all during their time apart. Eva had seen Harry once or twice coming out of popular bars, his arms draped around girls’ waists as he stumbled into the back of a car. When they were both in New York City, she always felt like she was walking on eggshells, waiting for the moment to come where she’d see him face to face and have the world crumble beneath her feet.

When they finally did talk, she was convinced that was going to be it. And then when they had coffee, she thought that maybe they could just be friends again. Not close like they were before, but at least civil enough to not resent the time they spent together. But the more time they spent together, the more she realized that maybe they just weren’t meant to be just friends. When she finally kissed him before the holidays the year before, Eva knew she would either ruin what they had or rekindle the flame that might not have burnt out.

A year later, the latter seemed to prove itself to be true. It wasn’t like it was before, but that’s what they needed. Both of them had matured and everything in Harry’s world had settled quite a bit. They had the time and privacy to be with each other, rather than being in constant worry of something about their private lives being spread around as rumors.

“Alright Harry, I’m ready,” Eva finally said, dropping the last bag onto the floor underneath her desk for safekeeping. “You sure you’re not keen on spending the night in Brooklyn?”

“But I decorated my flat all nice for you and everything,” he whined.

“I believe I decorated your flat, once again,” Eva countered. “I’ll agree only because my landlord is stingy with heat and even with you next to me in this bed, I’ll still be fucking freezing.”

“At least we don’t have roommates to worry about anymore,” Harry pointed out. “Was quite awkward when Julia saw me in just my pants that one time.”

“You had a boner as well,” Eva added, ignoring Harry’s widened eyes. “What? You must’ve known.”

“I tried to forget that specific details, thanks for reminding,” Harry sighed. “Ugh, I can’t get it out of my head now.”

“A mental image of your own boner? That’s weird, H,” Eva said, immediately beginning to scurry out of her room before Harry could react. There wasn’t really anywhere to run in her small one-bedroom apartment, but she tried to get a head start, running around her living room a few times in an attempt to find a place Harry couldn’t reach her. Once she spotted her tree in the corner of the room, a lightbulb went off. She pressed her back against the wall, sliding against it until she squeezed herself between the tree and the corner of the room.

Harry laughed the moment he stood in front of the tree, staring down at her fuzzy red socks sticking out from under the bottom branches. “You’re ridiculous,” he said. “Fine, enjoy being cozy with your tree. I’m going to go back to my flat and order some really good Thai food and probably watch Elf or summat a ton of times. By myself. It’ll be so relaxing.”

“Fine, I’ll just eat these fake pine needles,” Eva said. “I don’t need you or your delicious Thai food.”

“Ouch,” Harry hissed. “I always knew you were festive Eva, but I never thought you’d go quite this far and ditch me for a tree.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Eva replied.

Harry snorted, taking a few steps back from the tree. “Can’t wait to learn all there is to know then.”

“It’ll probably take years. Decades, even,” Eva explained. “I’m a complex creature.”

“That’s fine with me,” Harry replied. Eva could see him shrug between the gaps in the branches, his cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink.

“The first thing you need to know is that while I am very short, I can also fit into very tiny spaces,” she said, slowly sliding out from behind the tree, careful not to knock down any ornaments. Harry didn’t move, only shifting his body so he was facing Eva now and not the tree. She crept closer, walking on the tips of her toes until she grabbed onto the hem of the Christmas sweater she picked up for him the week before. “The second thing you need to know is that I love you very much.”

“Oh good, I was worried there for a second once the whole tree thing happened,” Harry joked, leaning down so their noses brushed. “I love you too, Ev.”

“You smell like peppermint,” she pointed out, their lips inches away from touching. “I’m so glad my Christmas spirit still continues to grow on you.”

“Shh,” he said, trapping her top lips in between his for a quick kiss. Eva sighed when he pulled away, wrapping her arms around his shoulder in an attempt to pull him back down to her. Harry merely shook his head, standing up straight so she was staring at his shoulders.

“This is so unfair,” she grumbled, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m not wearing heels, I’m at a huge disadvantage.”

“Maybe we can pick up where we left off in the comfort of my own, well heated flat,” Harry suggested. Eva rolled her eyes, smacking him in the chest with the back of her hand before sauntering back to her room to grab her purse. “Don’t forget your Christmas jumper, Eva! Don’t think I didn’t notice that you weren’t wearing your matching one to mine.”

#1dff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fics #iya #holiday 2017 #there's only more more day of BYE17 left!#merry christmas or happy monday!#queue

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apresumptuouswritingblog · 6 years

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Tagged by @hannahcbrown - and it’s only been like three months since you tagged me so major whoops on my part!

1. What’s one of your favorite lines from your WIP?

“You ever been punched in the bladder when you really had to pee?”- I can’t for the life of me remember writing this, nor the context in which it exists within my WIP but I love this line so much.

2. What’s your favorite POV to write in?

Third. I've been trying to challenge myself with writing a few pieces in second and I've had bad experiences with first, but third is my default.

3. Do you have any snacks or drinks you like to have while writing?

Tea. A lot of tea.

4. Is there a character of yours you just want to slap?

Absolutely! He is meant to be the sort of person you want to slap though- I'm really doing my best to make him as unlikable as possible, so he has ended up facing severe bodily harm at several points in my plan.

5. What are some of the songs you write to? Or what are some of the songs you associate with your writing if you don’t write with music in the background?

I try and listen to soundtracks when I write- if I listen to words it's hit or miss if I'll zone out and have it as background, or if I won't be bale to focus and spend two hours video hopping in YouTube or reorganizing all my playlists.

It's things like the Chicken Run soundtrack, Chronicles of Narnia, Peter Pan, Paddington., etc. Adam Young Scores are also really atmospheric too.

6. What does the main outfit you picture your MC in look like?

In EQSR, my MC is a sort of high ranking common city guard if that makes sense, but they're all travelling for most of the piece, so their main outfit is kind of rough travelling clothes- dark fabrics, a cloak, boots- but with a few features that they can hide/reveal when necessary- identification papers, a badge marking them as a guard, etc.

7. What’s one of your favorite casts of characters? Either from your story or from a book or show you like.

From mine? Well, each separate cast has so much I love. I'll just mention one (for now)- In EQSR they're a haphazard squad of soldiers and guards, the runts almost of the kingdoms security team- and as you'd expect, they bond to the point of being a real found family. The characters are still being worked out (and the number of them!) but they are really fun to try and imagine.

8. What was your favorite book as a kid?

I didn't really have one, I read so much it changed by the week, if not the day. A Series of Unfortunate Events was a strong series, but there are so many other ones- kinda old kiddie stuff like Mrs Pepperpot, Flat Stanley, Milly-Molly-Mandy. The Worst Witch (Though I only had one book in the series, and I only read one or two others fron the library)

Big fan of the Roman Mysteries series too. CHERUB, Henderson's Boys. Gone series until about the fourth/fifth book when I couldn't keep track of it all.

9. What’s your current favorite book?

I'm finding it hard to find time to read because of college commitments (failing 2/3 courses, plus uni applications does that to you), but I'm currently working through Fingersmith by Sarah Waters. In general, favourite things are kind of things that stick with me- so The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo, Dracula and the Illuminae series are other ones I would call favourites.

10. What’s your favorite quote about writing?

“If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.” Toni Morrison.

#writing blog #author asks #get to know me #writblr

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miphastudies · 3 years

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17 Questions for 17 People

Thanks @its-bianca for tagging me in this! Sorry it’s taken so long, we’re in a third lockdown and I’m pretty sure my body thinks that time no longer exists.

Nicknames: Kim, Kimbo, Kimberlim, Kimothy, Kimberley Dibberley (For some reason my family thought that a nickname based off Cat’s other personality from Red Dwarf, Dwayne Dibberley, was funny and it’s stuck with me my whole life), as well as KIIII (shouted by my sister when she was about 2 and couldn’t pronounce my name, my best friend now yells it when she wants my attention) and Kim-Kim by my Dad who refuses to believe I’ve grown up (beats Kimberley Dibberley any day)

Height: 5'9 - towering over most men is fun, I suggest it to all of you, I’d rather round it up to six foot, but I probs stopped growing at 20.

Hogwarts House: Well I got Gryffindor when I first went on that site, but being my goth self I had to take the test again until I got Slytherin - as far as I remember I had unicorn hair (or horn?) or something of the like in my wand but I’m not gonna fuel JK’s anti-trans pockets by visiting Pottermore ever again.

Last thing I googled: The soundtrack for Futurama’s Luck of the Fryrish episode, I knew Simple Minds were on it but I could’ve sworn Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty was on it, but apparently not. I spent a good half hour trying to sing it into google with their new song-analysis thing to no avail, so I ended up siphoning through all the songs Lisa Simpson has ever played on her Sax to find out what it was (I should be doing my dissertation proposal but my tutors haven’t got back to me yet so what can ye do).

Song stuck in my head: yknow wha I’m just gonna list the songs that have been stuck in my head so far today because it’s too many to be just one as I keep cycling through them (also gonna link them so you can see how garbo weird my music taste is)

Run - Joji Alive - Pearl Jam Clinging On For Life - The Hoosiers Tension - Avenged Sevenfold Boots of Spanish Leather - Bob Dylan Nutshell - Alice in Chains Jaded - Aerosmith The Sea of Tragic Beasts - Fit For an Autopsy

I’ll add my current favourite at the bottom too for good measure (Honestly I spend way too much time listening to music and I regret nothing)

Number of followers: Currently 85. I’ve got about 2k on my main blog but I’ve not touched that since July 2017.

Amount of sleep: Good lord, so I aim for 8 hours, sometimes I only get 5.5 or something along those lines, other times I depression nap during the day and can’t sleep at all, sometimes (like this morning) I’ll go to get up at a normal person time such as 9am when my body naturally wakes me up, but it’s so dark and gloomy outside and cold in my room that I just stay in bed and end up accidentally falling back asleep. 12pm gang rise up xo

Lucky number: 7

Dream Job: Hopefully I get somewhat successful in monetising my hobbies, I’m working on it all atm (I don’t know why but I really hate telling people about my plans because I’m deathly afraid they’ll mock me or do whatever they can to ensure it doesn’t happen, I’ve got this list of things I need to do for my own mental health sellotaped to my laptop stand that had things like when to clean the house, do my laundry, shower, exercise etc, and my old flatmate/friend saw it the other week and mocked me, so I haven’t followed it since and need to find some sort of other way of organising my life instead). But yeah, hopefully hobby based, I don’t want to be stuck in an office job all my life, and I want to leave the UK (although I don’t want to leave my family) so hopefully I’ll be successful enough to bring em all with me.

Wearing: Well I was gonna wear jeans and my Unus Annus longsleeve but I decided to go full kitchen witch and wear this black milkmaid looking dress with long sleeves that I’d bought for work when I got my thigh tattoo started (all the old men appreciated the legs but I didn’t make any more tips, oops)

Favourite song: My favourite song of all time would be The Verve’s Bittersweet Symphony , the band formed at my college, has great meaning and has resonated with me since I first saw the music video after it was played at my Stepdad’s funeral in 2002. Weirdly enough on my last day of college, right after my last exam, I went to get the bus home - put my Spotify on shuffle (bearing in mind I’ve got 805 songs on this playlist) and this came on straight away. That’s probably not important to most people, but being pagan, I like to think that small things like these are signs from loved ones that have since passed. Not too happy that it’s used as the England Rugby theme because it gives me anxiety every time as though I feel like everyone hearing it doesn’t have the same emotional connection with the song as I do, but idk. I saw Richard Ashcroft live and he played this and I legit bawled my eyes out in public, safe to say I’ll try and hold it in next time. I suggest you all have a listen to the song or even watch the music video for it, it’s the most simple but most meaningful music video to me.

Favourite Instrument: I’m left handed and I had this Yamaha acoustic guitar that my stepdad gave me - and taught me to play when I was about 5, a few months before he died (it’s still weird to me that I had no idea he had cancer at that point and instead spent his last few months teaching me his favourite hobbies) all he had was right handed guitars, so he taught me to play Metallica’s Nothing Else Matters upside down on this 20 odd year old right handed acoustic. He hadn’t played upside down himself before but did it so I could see what he was doing. I remember sitting in our green living room on the couch with him moving my hands to the right position (I don’t know where my mum was in this scenario, probably in the kitchen). He’d brought this guitar with him the first day I met him, it was probably like 11pm but I was 4 and thought it was 3am or something, but I heard voices coming from the living room and had gone to investigate - there sat my mum and my stepdad having Chinese on the living room floor, laughing together, my stepdad saw me and had brought sweets for me and my brother for when we woke up, but he beckoned me over, gave me a lollipop, stuck a two litre bottle of tizer in front of me and told me to dip the lollipop in the drink and lick it (not a good idea as I would’ve been bouncing off the walls, but I think I must’ve had a sugar crash and fallen asleep). My mum had no idea he was coming as he’d sneakily been texting her, asking what her favourite drink was, her favourite food and flowers etc, after they met in a pub when my mum was at a hostel with my brother after my Dad had taken me. My mum told him that the council had given her a place and he decided to show up and surprise her with all her favourite things and play guitar for her after my brother and I had gone to bed, I don’t remember much time passing before we’d moved into his house (where my mum and her new husband live to this day), but they got married a few months later and I still can’t play that Metallica song (I did try to teach myself more of it though). I also had this black left handed Ibanez prestige that my Dad got me for Christmas about 9 years ago, I could play quite a lot on it but eventually just stopped. Very good at piano though.

Aesthetic: I’m not sure what this entails but I’m a sucker for neon/RGB/cityscapes and that type of malarkey. Also space. Love da space. Also whatever Cornwall would be considered as. Cottagecore? I think that’s only an animal crossing related aesthetic but I’m claiming it nonetheless.

Favourite Author: I’m a big goth so it has to be Stephen King by default. I’ve got copious first editions of his books from the 70′s and 80′s that my Mum bought when she was a teen. At my flat I’ve got Carrie, Christine, Salem’s Lot, Misery and The Shining first editions and the others are in my room at my Mum’s house. I don’t tend to read for joy like I used to, or write for fun either but I’m hoping I do more in 2021. Currently reading The Outsider by King, it sounds eerily familiar to a novel I wrote for coursework in college in 2014 and I’m half pressed to think he’s stole my brain ideas. I’m watching you Stephen. Always watching. Always.

Favourite animal sounds: I don’t have favourite sounds, but my husky Nanook is my favourite animal because he’s dumb and I love him. Also Kookaburra sounds are terrifying and you all should go listen to what a koala sounds like. When I go to Adelaide (hopefully this year, if not next) I am NOT stepping foot in a nature reserve unless I’ve got an anti-kookaburra noise suit on. They obviously don’t exist so I’m gonna have to make one.

Random: I’m part of a viking reenactment group where they use actual swords and fight each other, and we have to basically sign our lives away when we join, to say that if we die, it’s not the groups fault. I don’t actually do the fighting though, I’m part of the villager group, so I do all the crafting and food making and most of the teaching when we do shows. I’ve not yet been to a show as I’ve had uni to go to, but my parents, sister and brother do - They stayed within Whitby Abbey last year during the Viking festival where everyone did the show and the adults got drunk round campfires in the castle grounds. Zacky Vengeance once complimented my shirt if that’s something. I’m also colourblind, got glared at by Liam Gallagher in the Liverpool Echo Arena parking lot and have too accurate a sense of smell.

Sorry this was so long, obviously I felt like word-dumping and my brain has a lot to say as I find too much meaning in these things. Thanks again for tagging me! I’ve not got 17 people to tag as I don’t interact with anyone at the moment but I’ll come back to this and add people as the week progresses :)

#tagged #personal #asks

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wendylewis-blog · 4 years

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05.01.2020 /The Weekend

I feel more animal. I sleep when it’s dark and get up with daylight. I forage my house for food when I’m hungry and often, let myself feel that hunger without satiating it. I’m more acutely aware of what’s around me—wandering the woods, walking the river, sitting in the dry prairie grasses. The wind, pollen scattering from the trees, birdsong, chattering squirrels, elegant deer and awkward turkeys. Hoards of gnats swarm in tiny tornados near the water—I wonder if they hold a consciousness about their purpose here. I wonder if I do.

I talk to people much less than I did in the beginning. Everything has been said too many times over. Exhausting and erosive. It’s becoming more personal now; taking each other’s spiritual temperature, reconnecting with some ppl I’ve lost over time, like a woman in NYC and another in San Franciso, both with new babies. Sometimes, we’re cynical, sometimes laughing, sometimes weeping. I’m quieter than ever and if you know me, I’m not prone to silence. It feels like getting to know a part of myself less explored. Not a bad thing. Listening more, talking less.

This morning’s soundtrack.

There is rain moving in. I’m sitting in my dining room facing the south side of the yard watching the sturdiness of trees against a grey backdrop. They wave their branches a little. I’ve looked at these trees out this window for twenty-two years. They give me a false sense of permanence but unless virulent summer weather takes them down some time, I will lean into that ruse.

It’s the first day of May. My oldest daughter Hannah will turn 34 in a week. She and her husband Geoffrey and g-bb Ezra came down to our house last Saturday. I hugged them both with a bedsheet between us. I had so many conflicting feelings seeing them after almost two months and keeping prescribed distance for the afternoon—the full range existing between joy and grief. I suffered an emotional hangover the next day. It’s so hard to explain. It’s surreal to watch them from across the yard while the dogs romp together and not get gob-smacked about this new reality we are saddled up into—how this contagion (and the ones that will surely follow) will distort/contort, forever changing our intimacies. I’ll have to think more about this.

We have always been such a tactile family and this is taking time to get used to and it’s only just begun. I’m gonna give myself all the time necessary to acclimate. It was so incredible to see them after so long, if bittersweet.

I had similar feelings when daughter Kitty and her roommate Anna came down the following Monday to gather kindling, take a walk and stay for dinner. I spent a couple hours prior to their arrival instigating a yearly ritual—opening the porch! We put all the leaves in the table to properly distance ourselves. I thought about how to share the food. I ladled the soup into the sitting bowls, split the French bread loaf in half and wrapped separately, gave them their own dish of salt and plate of butter. We made mistakes—shared the pepper grinder and all touched the tubs of yogurt and sour cream. Ohhh well—we washed our hands afterwards. We also talked and laughed our asses off until dark. When they were leaving, Kitty and I looked at each other and suddenly hugged without the sheet, turning our faces away, not breathing. The next morning I woke up and had a moment of subdued panic until I remembered that every time I leave my house and go to the grocery store, it’s a risk.

These are the inescapable truths we are all being forced to reckon with in one way or another. In that moment, the gain was well worth the risk. I am gonna get more used to this eventually and do my best taming the wild range of emotional geography to something less painful and more often flushed with gratefulness that we are all alive and love each other. Pull it together, Lewis!

I’ve been trying to order seeds on line for weeks. Most of the organic sites were filling commercial orders in lieu of home gardeners’ requests, stalling us until May. Now, most everything is unavailable, especially herbs, which are expensive to buy in the produce section. I guess I have to take a deep breath and roll with it. There’s a lot we all have to roll with. I’m not an avid gardener anyway but I did love how the bush beans grew last year and fed us all summer long, planted in succession.

I’ve emerged, at least for now, from the hopeless/helpless place I’d been in last week. I decided to curb my drinking habits, which had become something of a crutch a couple weeks ago that collapsed under my own weight and fed my sad monster. I’m going to need all my available faculties to get to the next day and the next one, not fall victim to laziness or inflamed feeling, already tender. So, cutting back. It’s been pretty easy so far.

Meanwhile, there are important issues to focus my anger and intention towards when it rears up—an endless stream, most recently; Pence not wearing a mask when he visited the Mayo Clinic in Rochester MN, Trump suggesting ultra violate rays and disinfectant injections as a cure and then later saying he was being sarcastic (!**/?!#@%!!?), joining up with Stacy Abrams out of GA and the Fair Fight organization to protect our voting rights and democracy in the upcoming election. I also watched (Michael Moore presents) Planet of the Humans written/directed by Jeff Gibbs. Warning: brutal, informative, a li’l craycray (fact checking review here as ballast).

Also, watched a Frontline piece on Amazon’s Jeff Bezos. What a supreme, soulless dick! Yikes! I knew, kinda, but have never gone in for the longer story. I know—it would be difficult for some, because—so convenient—but what if we just stopped ordering from that megalomaniac, ceased to fill the pockets of the richest man in the world whose mistreatment of his workers is legendary? He would be the best first place to start reorienting our rote thinking about capitalism. Done with him.

What if we supported our local stores, local restaurant take-out, local clothing and sundries stores (most sell online now) or shopped directly to companies online instead of going through the infamous Amazon? What if we used this time to begin to unhook from the corporate rank and file consumerism we have all been brainwashed with, and started supporting each other and small businesses? Hearing that Tyson is suffering an enormous rise in workers infected with Covid due to cramped and unsafe working conditions (!!!) what if we supported local co-ops even part of the time? I know they are a little more expensive, but if you go local and not Whole Foods, you’ll do better. I did hear that Farmers Markets may open soon and those offer the most affordable options to Cub or Rainbow. I’ve lived and shopped this way for a long time and never made much money so I’m just sayin’, you actually can afford it.

Every time we spend our money, we are casting a vote, so this is a good time to explore and support the neighborhood both near us and small companies online instead of supporting the giant corporate machine. They are not helping us as much as they make it appear. Other than Costco (my only big box store), who pay their workers a living wage with good benefits and safe work environments (in addition to offering remarkable dry goods, produce, meats and cheeses, the rest are forever off my list. They offer so many organic options and I save so much $$ there. I admit, it’s not much fun to go there—especially right now in terms of exposure—but when I’m out of paper towels and coffee or need a bag of lemons for $6 and organic ground beef, they are my go-to.

This week’s movie recommendations. Kitty brought The Midnight Gospel, an animated, spirited, crazy, philosophical ride on the human condition from the makers of Adventure Time. You don’t have to be a Dylan fan to enjoy No Direction Home, a documentary that centers on Dylan’s trajectory (copious interview time with him and others around him) from late 50′s-70′s and beyond. If that’s not your cup of tea, check out Ricky Gervais’ AfterLife in which he deals with the fallout of grieving his beloved wife in that sweet/irreverent way he is known for—the second season now available. Also, Devs (recommended by Al Church) is really good, but if you can’t do violence, steer clear. All of these are streaming on Netflix.

Last post, I was thinking hard about employing more acceptance and open-mindedness. I’m still there and working on it as I wrestle my uncaged sometimes savage emotions. I check in on many of you via our only source of communication and it seems we are all on the same rollercoaster. It’s a rough ride—hang on and, when you’re fed up or feel brave or are awash in a weird kind of joy, raise your hands off the bar and into the air.

While we may be isolated, we are not alone.

Lovelove.

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