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bluerosette23 · 5 years

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Maribat MASTERLIST ~ Pg3

Third Part of the masterlist. (Updated: Dec 2, 2019)

< Page3 > [Daminette December Masterlist]

by @kittyanonymity A Ladybug in Gotham ~ AO3 Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 A Little Bird Told Me [Timari] Pt1 ~ ML X DC Crossover AU Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3

by @krispydefendorpolice The Demon’s Bride CH1 ~ CH2 ~ CH3 ~ CH4 ~ CH5 TDB Drabbles Meeting The Batfam ~ The Miraculous Awaken(1 ~ 2)

by @ladylucina28 Gotham Nine Nine [Timari] (collab w/ a-marlene-s) Background ~ Ranks ~ Mari’s Thoughts CH1 ~ CH2 ~ CH3

by @ladysblackcat Escape To The Circus Mari VS Rayby @legendaryhumanskeletonkid Moving On Pt1 New Life, New Start Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4

by @let-me-perish We’ve Got Some Dreams Alternate Beginning AU Pt1&2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5

by @loveswifi Everything Is Nothing Without Her ~ I Only Have Eyes For You ~ Lips Are Chapped And Faded ~ Sweet Lullaby How To Survive As Daughter Of Deadpool Masterlist ~ OG Idea ~ HC1 ~ HC2 ~ HC3 ~ HC4 ~ HC5 ~ HC6 ~ HC7 ~ HC8 ~ HC9 ~ HC10 CH1 Making Do (With What Gives Us) Masterlist ~ Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 No More Second Chances Masterlist ~ Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 Rising From The Ashes ~ AO3 Masterlist ~ Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5 ~ Pt6 ~ Pt7 ~ Pt8 ~ Pt9 ~ Pt10 ~ Pt11 ~ Pt12 ~ Pt13 ~ Pt14 ~ Pt15

by @magic-miraculous All The Time We’ve Got CH1 ~ CH2 ~ CH3 ~ CH4 ~ CH5 ~

by @maribat-2k20 A Blind Meeting [Brucinette] CH1 ~ CH2 ~ CH3 ~ CH4 ~ CH5 ~ CH6 ~ CH7 ~ CH8 BatBug Kid(s?) [Brucinette] Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5 ~ Pt6 ~ Pt7 ~ Pt8 ~ Pt9 ~ Pt10 ~ Pt11 ~ Pt12 ~ Pt13 ~ Pt14 ~ Pt15

by @maribat-archive A World That Is New, That Is Free Bug And Bird Of Prey Damian VS Adrien:Sword Fight Eternal Love/Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms AU (Pt1 ~ Pt2) Royalty AU Running Home to You Umbrella at Your Side You’re My Flashlight (Soulmate AU) Of Fun, Of Love Pt1 ~ Pt2 Sincerely (Penpal AU) Marinette ~ Damian ~ Us(Against the World)

by @maxdark158 Angel of Gotham ~ AO3 CH1 ~ CH2 ~ CH3 ~ CH4 ~ CH5 ~ CH6 Demon of Gotham ~ AO3 CH1 ~ CH2 ~ CH3 ~ CH4 ~ CH5 ~ CH6 Daminette Soulmate AU Short Drabble:Sparring

by @mindfulmagics Daminette Betrothed AU History Repeats Lila Knows Best If I Could ~ AO3 Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5 ~ Pt6 ~ Keeping You Warm ~ AO3 Pt1 ~Pt2~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5 ~ Pt6 ~ Pt7 ~ Pt8 ~ Pt9 ~ Pt10 ~ Pt11 ~ Pt12 ~ Pt13 ~ Pt14 ~ Pt15 ~ Pt16 ~ Pt17

by @minilittlebatbrat The Adventures of MariMaps CH1 ~ CH2 ~ CH3 ~ CH4 ~ CH5

by @miraculous-mangoes I See Your Name Everyday ~ AO3 Not That Much ~ AO3 More Than Survive ~ AO3 Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4

by @miraculous786 A Miniature Meeting With Multimouse Masterlist ~ Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Gotham’s Own Ladybug Masterlist ~ Prologue ~ Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5 ~ Pt6

by @mmemiraculous Piggyback AU Pt1 ~ Pt2

by @mochinek0 Bonus 1: Alya’s Realization ~ Bonus 2 Fairy VS Angel Maribat Halloween! Normal Shout Out To My Ex Songfic Sweetheart Ice Cream Second Chance Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4

by @monkeebratz Adult Mari Maribat AU Marionette (Harley Quinn 2.0) Bio!Dad Bruce Wayne Initial Idea ~ How It Happened ~ Addition by iggy-of-fans ~ Reply to iggy’s Addition ~ Summer Begins ~ Summer Part 2 ~ Super Meet ~ Scarecrow Interlude Gotham Seamstress Marinette Initial Idea ~ Uncle Ozzy ~ Gotham City Sirens ~ Wayne Gala ~ After The Party - Bruce ~ After The Party - Marinette ~ Clash of Heroes and Villains ~ Finding Marinette Smol Damian Maribat AU Idea ~ The Couffains ~ Ra’s Al Ghul ~ After Ra’s Al Ghul

by @moonlightstar64 Healing Pain Prologue ~ CH1 ~ CH2 ~ CH3 ~ CH4 ~ CH5 ~ CH6 ~ CH7 ~ CH8 ~ CH9 ~ CH10 ~ CH11 ~ CH12 ~ CH13

by @multifandom-imagines-things Random Fic Random NaNoWriMo Daminette Fic

by @multifandomscribette Adaptability ~ Best Business Trip Ever [TimxAdrien] ~ Bring Him Back From The Brink - The Parisian Branch Of The Family Tree ~ Damian “Helping” Marinette’s Class ~ In A Flash Of Light ~ It Started With Coffee [Timari] ~ Our Dreams Transport Us To Where We Wish To Be [Timari] ~ Seeing Red [Roynette] ~ Sisterhood ~ Soul Stealer ~ Strategic And Magical [Kaldurnette] ~ The Wedding Of The Millenium [Timari] ~ The Twins ~ Trip To YJL HQ ~ Words [Jasonette] Dame Chanceuse Conture AU [Timari] Masterpost ~ Gotham Sirens ~ Riddler/Penguin ~ Two-Face/Scarecrow ~ Mad Hatter/Baby Doll ~ Girls Night Out ~ Calendar Girl/Lex Luthor ~ Deadshot/Talia Al Ghul ~ Zatanna ~ The Devil and The Goddess of Crime Alley ~ The Angel Of Gotham Goes To The City Of Angels ~ Hufflepuff And Puffin! ~ Killer Croc/Red Hood ~ John Constantine Doesn’t Know What To Think of The Goddess In Gotham The World Needs The Goddess But It Fears Her ~ Sanctuary Extended Family AU First Impressions ~ Family Reunion ~ Family Medical History Gotham For Two Prologue ~ CH1 ~ CH2 ~ CH3 ~ CH4 ~ CH5 ~ CH6 ~ CH7 ~ CH8 ~ CH9 Zili Alqatah AU Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5 ~ Pt6 ~ Pt7 Light In The Darkness The Forgotten City AU Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5 ~ Pt6 ~ Pt7 ~ Pt8 ~ Pt9

by @musicfeedsmysoul12 Bio Dad!Bruce ~ Bio Mom!Selina Breakdance AU ~ Little Red And Big Red Halloween Second Chance Brucinette AU Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 Kitten Mari Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5 ~

by @mysnis * African Adventure Childhood Promises Heroine Fashonista Rock N Roll Super Fashion To Perform With Our Minds And Hearts 2 (Dancer AU cont.) The Fashionable Heroes Clumsy Series Bruises ~ Wounds ~ Muscle Strains ~ Dislocations ~ Concussions Lost Friends Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 True Love Karaoke CH1 ~ CH2 ~ CH3 ~ CH4 ~ CH5 ~ CH6 ~ CH7 ~ CH8 ~ CH9 ~ CH10 ~ CH11 ~ CH12 We Stan A Friend Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5 Maribat Fluff Week Day1 ~ Day2 ~ Day3 ~ Day4 ~ Day5 ~ Day6 ~ Day7 Timari Week D1 ~ D2 ~ D3 ~ D4 ~ D5 ~ D6 ~ D7 500 Followers Celebration 1 ~ 2 ~ 3 ~ 4 ~ 5 ~ 6 ~ 7 ~ 8 ~ 9 ~ 10 ~ 11 ~ 12 ~ 13 ~ 14 ~ 15 ~ 16 ~ 17 ~ 18 ~ 19

by @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog Damian’s Sister Don’t Forget To Breath Pt1 ~ Pt2

by @mystery-5-5 Daminette/Uncle Jagged Idea

by @never-neverland Sapphire and Moonlight CH1 ~

by @noirdots An Angel in Red ~ AO3 Anything For You Blood And Tears ~ AO3 Flying Ladybugs and Birds at Disney World Made With Love ~ AO3 Marie And Her Nutcracker Prince Sick Day ~ AO3 Slow Dancing In The Dark Thanksgiving With The Wayne’s Changes (Pt1 ) Finding You ~ AO3 Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3

by @normal-piece-of-shit Promises [Jasonette] Revelations [Timari] Twists And Turns A Couple Of Spies Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 Babynette Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 Of Life and Heroes CH1 ~ CH2 ~ CH3 ~ CH4 ~ CH5 ~ CH6 ~ CH7 ~ CH8 ~ CH9 ~ CH10 ~ Timinette Shenanigans Pt1 ~ Pt2 Maribat Fluff Week Day1 ~ Day2 ~ Day3 ~ Day4 ~ Day5 ~ Day6 ~ Day7 Timari Week D1 ~ D2 ~ D3 ~ D6

by @pan-cakez A Strange Meeting

by @particularlygeeky Cataclysm ~ AO3 Little Ladybird ~ AO3 CH1 ~ CH2 ~ CH3 ~ CH4 ~ CH5 ~ CH6 ~ CH7 ~ CH8 ~ CH9 ~ CH10 ~ CH11

by @persephonescat Birds and Other Supernatural Phenomenons ~ AO3 Masterpost ~ CH1 ~ CH2 ~ CH3 ~ CH4 ~ CH5 ~ CH6 ~ CH7 ~ CH8 ~

< Page3 > [Daminette December Masterlist]

#masterlist:maribat #maribat #daminette #maridami #damimari #timari #timinette #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #marinette x tim #marijon #marinette x jason #marinette x dick #marinette x jon

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vaingloriosa · 4 years

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let it snow (and awaken hearts)

Summary: Almost like a Christmas miracle, you get the news that the love of your life has returned from the dead.

Words: 2.2k+

Characters: Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

Warnings: none. takes place somewhere in a non-canon timeline where loki returns but he isn’t the one from 2012. though christmas is briefly brought up, it isn’t discussed in-depth.

Author’s notes: hello, y’all! this is my first story in over three months and my final story for the year of 2019. “let it snow” is part of a writing collaboration with one of my dearest friends, susie of @pendragonfics! what sparked as a random idea and one of those “just kidding!...unless?” moments has come to this. our prompt was: “You fell asleep on me, but it’s fine, I made sure you’re warm and comfortable.“ where we took creative liberty with it! our two stories are like narrative foils where susie’s is more on the fluffy spectrum whereas i navigate the choppy waters of angst with comfort (because it’s the HOLIDAYS, BABEYY!). thank y’all for your support this year!

read “let it snow” by @pendragonfics

Homecoming.

Snow silently leaves its mark on the New Zealand land overlooking the roaring sea. Purple and pink hues grace the skies and provide a beautiful setting for the evening. It’s almost majestic the way that the New Asgard had transformed over the years. From the Asgardians losing the only home they knew to rebuilding a life afterwards; it was never about the place, it was always about the people.

You stretch out your arm for the snowflakes to melt against your warm hand. A shadow of a smile forms on your lips as you turn your hand over to capture more falling snowflakes.

The people.

It had been years since the Snap, since losing him, years you have bore witness to immeasurable heartache, pain, and lingering suffering. Uncertainty was always cast above your head for you didn’t know you would ever see the people you cared about again. You put your mind into aid efforts for the Asgardian refugees, hoping that healing would come in the form of volunteerism for the people he helped protect, for his sacrifice not to be in vain. To see life blossom back again after slaying the Titan, bringing everyone back, to see the light of the Asgardian people return brought a sense of peace.

Maybe you can move forward.

Then, when you thought you did enough mourning, Loki returns. Alive.

A breath catches at the back of your throat, tears welling in your eyes when you got the call from Valkyrie. You boarded the next flight to New Zealand with fidgety hands in your lap, trying to find the right words to say to the man you’ve always loved, the one you presumed dead and mourned but now living and breathing.

Perhaps the pattern of rising from the dead when presumed otherwise should’ve been a sign.

An early Christmas present indeed.

Mortality as a Midgardian sinks in the middle of your chest as you read the welcome sign of New Asgard. This is far different than being reunited with your loved ones after everything has been said and done to undo the Snap. Nothing can ever truly prepare you to meet the love of your life again in your lifetime, not alive at least. You knew Loki might outlive you and you had made peace with your future. Maybe mortals weren’t meant to be with gods, but you want to be the exception.

Your love for Loki never left, not even a sliver.

The sound of your heels pacing along the floor echos down the corridor.

“Stop pacing back and forth before you make me nervous!”

Above the raging thoughts forming in your head, your head perks up from the familiar voice of your friend. A smile forms on your lips as Valkyrie softly bumps her shoulder on yours, taking a place right by your side. You take a shaky breath out as you start to pick at your nails you just done earlier this morning. Stars, you are a complete nervous wreck.

“You look lovely this evening. Is it new? Who’s the designer? We should’ve gone together! Have you seen this snow? So lovely this time of year...” You try to change the subject but Valkyrie knows all the tricks in your hat, white bunny and all. Her eyes know the full story and you know there’s no point in hiding away from the Asgardian queen herself.

“First off, we did go together. You’re the one who suggested it. And two, why are you avoiding the inevitable?”

You look longingly at the ornate wooden door mere feet away from where you two stand. Your chest rises unevenly from taking a deep breath in then you move your gaze over to Valkyrie and shake your head.

“I don’t know what to say to him. How does one convey their messy emotions about seeing the one they love rise from the dead? ‘Hello, I mourned your death but surprise to me! Not dead!’” It’s a forced laugh that escapes your lips which in turn brings a prickle to the corner of your eyes. You take in a short breath then let it out through your teeth. You wrap your arms around your chest in an effort to comfort yourself and guard your true feelings.

Valkyrie cocks her head to the side, placing a warm hand on your upper arm which melts away from of your tension. You put your arms to your side then shake your head, a nervous smile once again.

“Most of the things I’m feeling are selfish, I know. All this can more than likely be resolved if I just talked to Loki but it’s been years. Things could’ve...changed.” The last word almost comes out as a whisper but the condensation that forms indicates you said the word out loud. Your friend takes both of your arms into her hands and forces you to look at her directly in the eyes. You’re almost petrified by the intensity.

“Stop doing this to yourself; it won’t solve anything. I only briefly talked to him and he’s been asking about you. Things haven’t changed between the two of you on the Loki front.” She offers you a small smile, rubbing both of your arms for reassurance. You can feel some of the tension melt away from your muscles and begin to ease up just a bit. Your mind still spins of things to say but it’s now an organized chaos.

“Be it as it may, whether it’s the Yuletide or the Christmas energy in the air, the universe has spoken. Now,” Valkyrie lets go of you then brings her hands up towards her head where the crown sits nicely on top. It’s more a formality than anything but she said that it was just the cherry on top of the whole king thing. With gentleness, Valkyrie removes the golden crown and examines it in her hands for a second. It’s nothing exuberant or too gaudy, just the way that it should; a delicate golden circlet with laurel-like tendrils woven all around. Right in the center is a peak with a stunning red gemstone in the middle.

Valkyrie clears her throat then gestures you to bow your head. Your eyes narrow, shaking your head as you put two and two together.

“Val-”

“Not another word.”

You do as she says, bowing ever so slightly as Valkyrie fixes the crown on top of your head.

“You have the power of me and the gods alongside you now. It’s time you get your damn ass in there and talk to your boyfriend.”

You let out a sharp snort then give her a mock curtsy. You already feel slightly powerful with your new given rule. “Thank you, queen.”

Valkyrie calls out as you walk away. “Don’t do anything stupid with that crown of mine!”

The night appears to be in full swing once you pull open the wooden double doors. Laughing people glide all over the dance floor, merriment sounds and lively music fill the open air, with people enjoying the sprawling Yuletide feast table. Lights twinkle above every head in the ballroom that creates an almost surreal and dreamlike atmosphere. You let your eyes wonder from the decorations to the faces of joyous Asgardians as they celebrate another year of being together, of being alive.

You crane your neck to find a particular set of eyes but to no avail.

Once again, you feel that heaviness in your chest as if you suddenly forgot how to breath. Even with the pep talk, it’s no match for what lies ahead for you. Knowing that he’s somewhere here, walking, breathing, existing...

The music switches to a more slow tempo song.

You watch couples take each other in their arms, swaying to and fro, eyes locked into each other’s souls. There is no one else in the room but them together, in that moment, soaking in each other’s presence. A melancholy feeling washes over you as you remember asking Loki to dance at one of Stark’s stupid galas you always despised being dragged to. You’ve been mustering up the courage to ask him all night that with one final swig of liquid courage, you came up to him and offered you his hand.

The look of pure delight sparkling in his eyes still stays with you.

A smile forms on your lips when you recall the moment.

“Hello, my love.”

A breathe catches in your throat. The sound of his voice...you blink twice to make sure that this all real and not a figment of your imagination. You turn around to face the man you’ve never thought you would ever see again in your mortal life.

“Loki.”

His name feels ancient on your tongue, as if you never knew you would be able to say it again. You can feel Loki take a hold of your hands as you continue to examine his face. This is real, this is all real. He is in front of you and not dead somewhere out in deep space like they’ve told you. Loki is standing there, right here and right now, in the flesh, body and soul. You can feel tears prickle at the corner of your eyes knowing that the two of you have been reunited by a red string of fate; almost like destiny.

Loki rubs his thumbs along the tops of your hands. “I know I’ve been gone for awhile but I didn’t expect you to become queen of Asgard in such a short amount of time. Never doubted you once, little dove.”

For the first time that night, you allow yourself to be vulnerable and cave into your emotions. You burst out into laughter, tears streaming down your cheeks, then press your body against Loki, wrapping your arms around his neck. You close your eyes as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, taking in the scent of sandalwood and a hint of spiced cinnamon. Loki can feel the tears along his exposed skin and he holds you even tighter in his arms.

The rest of the world had been forgotten for a few seconds as the two of you focused on only each other. Almost everyone in the ballroom had taken notice of the glorious reunion between you and the raven haired prince. Thunderous applause erupts around the two of you and you let go of Loki to press a warm hand on his cheek. He places his hand over yours, fond eyes looking at you as you press your lips onto his for a soft kiss.

All of a sudden, the jitters you’ve had before dissipate for you knew there is nothing to be worried about anymore.

You can feel Loki’s lips curl into a smile as he sinks in deeper to your touch. There’s another rounds of some hollers and you can feel your ears burning from such prying eyes. You take his hand, nodding towards the entrance in a silent invitation of escape. He takes your cue, interlocking his fingers with yours as you guide him towards salvation.

Once outside, you take him towards an intimately lit garden with archways full burnt orange calendulas. The snow has given way to a peaceful and silent winter’s night. Loki brushes away some snow from a bench then pats the space right next to him. After you remove the crown, you place your head on his shoulder.

There’s a slight tension between you two of you.

“I know you may have a lot of questions-”

“That’s an understatement.”

“And there are no words to tell you how deeply sorry I am to have put you in such a difficult position.”

You move your head away from Loki’s shoulder to look at him. There are tears welling up in his eyes as he remembers the hurt he has caused not only his people but to you especially. What Loki thought he was doing was protecting everyone he has ever cared for has turned against him. Nothing was prevented, people still suffered, however, he still had hope that things could get better.

“It’s unfair for you to have gone through such turmoil and loss again and again. You deserved to be safe and happy, not this. I apologize for not sending you a sign but it was far too dangerous. There aren’t enough apologies that can express it. I promise you that I will do everything in my power to be there for you and fight by your side. May we never have to be separated again.”

You place your hand on his cheek to wipe away the tears that drop down his face. “You don’t have to apologize. I know you did everything you could and I did everything I could. We were brought back together, I think that’s a good sign.”

Loki takes the hand that was resting on his cheek and presses soft kisses on each knuckle.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened?” You raise an eyebrow at him and he lets out a small laugh, almost as if reminiscing on his adventures.

“Yes, but I don’t want to ruin this moment.”

You lean against your chest as your eyelids become heavier and heavier; his heartbeat almost like a lullaby. There’s a flash of green magick as Loki summons a knitted blanket to wrap around the two of you. You let out a sleepy smile when you feel Loki bring your legs up to rest on his lap.

“Welcome home, Loki.”

For a brief moment, you open your eyes to soak the moment all in. Loki presses a small kiss on your forehead with a smile.

“With you, I already am.”

Tagging: @kwaiky (my cinnamon apple, my day one freak nasty), @cura-posterior (WHO WOULD’VE THOT I WOULD BE BACK ON THE WRITING TRAIN AHA!!), @diansaprince (bithch lily...im loveu thank u for being on this ride with me...churro pride), @black-widow-fangirl (queen, your creativity and motivation inspire me to no end), @deviantramblings (HOE JASKLDJSKAL LOOK AT US! LOOK AT US! thank you for being the light of my life), @moonbeamgogh (miss. maeve...u beautiful sunflower we loki hoes had a delicious year), @michverse (okay i know u ain’t on this joint as much but...that’s our white king okay...thank u for everything bb), @attentionseekingprincess (ANOTHER OG ON GODDDDDD you’re amazing)

#angel writes #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odison x reader #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #tom hiddleston #dude it has been forever so idk how to tag my story lmaoo

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serenzippity · 4 years

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The Scales

Words: 3658 Member/Pairing: Monsta X, Got7, Exo Genre: Alternative Universe, inspired by 6 Underground Warning(s): Language, mentions of drug use, mentions of human trafficking, mentions of death/killing, mentions of violence, implied smut

Chapter One - Sunrise

Specter Underground

Seoul, South Korea May 19th, 2019

Jae’s POV

“Are you ready Jae-baby?”

It was hard to not roll my eyes at the annoying nickname, but I kept my feelings in for the sake of our audience. One and I stood before the semi-circle of chairs, but this time I.M was anxiously perched in my former seat. The younger boy stared at the projector screen behind us in earnest, the disturbed look on his face permanently etched on his features from when we showed him our targets. The opposite wall in the expansive room seemed to put him on edge, but that was part of the job. He seemed to take the declarations from Lux and I a lot better than we were expecting.

“There will be four missions in total,” I said, ignoring One and beginning the briefing. “They will require all our strengths, meaning Seven you’ll often be on lookout and Lux you’ll be on medical standby.” The two of them nodded in agreement, Seven giving me a subtle wink before I turned to the man next to me. “One, would you like to start with the first mission?”

It was rare when One got truly serious, but he was all proud shoulders and authority as he addressed the room. “Mission Alpha will be a ground game. Lux, Jae, and Seven will remain here on coms. I.M, Kai, Wonho, and I will all infiltrate JYP Enterprise for an intel extraction.” I.M looked wide-eyed and scared when One said his name, but he didn’t say anything about his obvious internal fear. “We will be utilizing disguises and trackers, so make sure you get those worked out with Lux before we ship out.”

“Sweet,” Kai whispered to Seven, fist-bumping the sniper with an excited smirk on his face.

“I.M and I will go in as cleaning crew where we will be stationed on the lower, underground levels.” Clicking the remote, the screen lit up with an outline of the overall layout of the building. Special emphasis was placed on the hidden underground floors where I knew the JYPE secrets were kept. “He and I will extract the data we need from their mainframe on the fourth level. I’ve already begun working on the bug that will transmit all the JYPE data to our handy-dandy computer here.” One was pleased as he explained the mission, acting like a professional but the light behind his eyes reminded me of a kid in a candy store as he pointed to the fourth-floor diagram.

“Kai and Wonho will go in as security guards. Kai will act as a lookout in the lobby of the building while Wonho will remain in the security room. You,” One said gesturing to the man-made out of pure muscle, “will give coms full access to their camera system. We need to remain invisible for this to work.” Wonho nodded, not saying anything but he also began to shift with excitement. “Once we have access to their mainframe Jae-baby, Wonho, Seven and I will sort through the files to find what we need.”

“And what exactly will you be looking for?” Lux asked watching the screen behind us intently. One looked at me with a raised brow and gestured for me to answer with an unnecessary flourish of his hands.

Rolling my eyes, I clicked my respective remote to change the screen to a map of three different docks. “JYPE owns docks in three different ports; one in Busan, one in Pyeongtaek, and two in Icheon. We are looking for shipping information for all three docks, particularly dates where there is a blackout on the dock manifests.” Clicking the remote again, a close up shot of the Icheon dock took over the screen. “The Boss uses JYPE docks to bring in his shipments, so he will more than likely use the ones in Icheon to smuggle in his goods.”

“The Boss,” One said, turning his attention to I.M when the younger man began to raise his hand in question, “also known as Suho, is the leader of a Korean mafia syndicate known as Exo. He is financed by a scary, shadowy power figure.” He clicked his remote and a grainy, unclear image of the man in question popped up. “He is elusive, usually surrounded by bodyguards and his gang members. He is the worst of the worst and he trafficks anything under the sun, including little cuties like you.” I.M’s eyes went wide as Jackson stared him down.

“He murders, steals, and is one of our primary targets,” I said nonchalantly, continuing on as if I was telling the team what time it was. “It is likely that Suho will use the docks in Icheon to bring in his shipments. So, once we extract the data from JYPE we will look for any indication of when and where they will come in, as well as what they are so we have the necessary precautions on stand by.”

“Mission Alpha is a get in and get out type of plan,” One said, addressing the three men who will be joining him. “We get in, plant the bug, and get the hell out of dodge. All we need is information, no injuries or casualties.” I.M got paler at the mention of casualties.

“Standard rules apply?” Kai asked.

One nodded his head and began to click away to begin the brief on the next mission, but before he could begin speaking I.M’s small voice broke the silence. “What are the standard rules?”

Lux, in all her motherly glory, shifted in her seat and turned to him. She gave him a sad smile that looked out of place her pretty face, as a gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder. She opened her mouth to begin speaking but was swiftly cut off by Kai.

“The rules are that if you get left behind, you stay behind.” He fixed the younger man with a hard gaze, but it fell immediately when Lux sharply turned around to give him a dark glare. Her hand never left I.M’s shoulder, but her body was radiating anger that was fixated on Kai. It was amusing to watch the usually fearless spy cower especially considering Lux wasn’t very imposing.

I.M started to visibly shake at that point, all of the color that was left in his cheeks was now fully drained. One, in all his child-like wonder, began to speak again, ignoring the frightened young man sitting in front of him.

“Once we have all the information we need, we will be quietly taking out the recruiters.” He clicked his remote to flip through the slides, coming to rest upon two pictures of very attractive models. “Jae-baby this is your mission so I’ll let you take the reins.”

I snapped my fingers in Kai’s general direction to pull him out from under Lux’s angry stare. The spy came to quickly, but his eyes still kept darting to the woman next to him. “Mission Beta is a standard infiltrate to remove targets.” The lingo went over almost everyone’s head except for Kai. He understood immediately what I said, nodding in understanding—it was a ‘get in, kill them, and get out undetected’ kind of mission.

“Our targets are Chae Hyungwon and Jacqueline Mendoza, also known as Jace Maddox,” I said gesturing to the beautiful people on the screen. Hyungwon was a model with ethereal features that were framed by luscious silver hair. Jace was a beautiful Hispanic woman with glowing skin and dark eyes that could pierce a soul. The glamour shots on the screen hid their dark-sides well. “They are both the primary recruiters for The Boss’s human trafficking business. They bring in the girls and get a cut when Suho sells them.” Flipping to the next slide there were two more pictures of the targets, but these showed paparazzi photos of them out on the town, both looking carefree. “Suho doesn’t protect them as heavily as his other lackeys, possibly because he sees them as disposable. They are rarely seen with any member of the syndicate and show no direct contacts besides their meetings with The Smuggler.”

“So, this should be easy?” Kai asked, leaning forward and staring at the pictures attentively. I could see his brain working at a million miles a minute, already forming a plan. His fast mind was what made him one of the best spies in the game.

“More or less,” I confirmed, giving him a smirk that spoke miles to anyone used to this lifestyle, “This should be like any other mission for us.”

“What is the color?” He asked, gnawing on his lip and suddenly looking slightly tense.

This spy lingo also seemed to go over everyone’s heads except for Seven who leaned forwards to mirror Kai. However, instead of looking at the images he was looking at me with a question behind his normally stoic façade. I made quick eye contact before turning to look at the two blown-up images of Hyungwon and Jace. “Red,” I breathed out, making sure I didn’t look at Seven as I said it.

In our world—the world of lies and deceit—Kai and I lived by a color-code. Our missions were defined by them. The colors indicated how far we were to go to complete the task. Green usually meant that there were tamer ways to get what we wanted. These missions usually were easier and required us to be inconspicuous. Yellow was where we had to infiltrate and if there were roadblocks in our way, we could use more unconventional means. These were a large portion of our prior work. However, red missions required us to complete the mission by any means necessary. This meant we could kill, cheat, and fuck until we are called back with success. Knowing the reputation of our two targets we would have to resort to our special training. It wasn’t something I was fond of, but it came with the territory.

I kept my eyes trained on the two pictures of the target because I didn’t want to see Kai or Seven’s reactions, but I could feel the eyes of the sniper burning a hole at the base of my neck. For a second I almost felt guilty. Since coming to Specter my humanity began to resurface, and it was a bitch to deal with at times.

“Moving on,” I hissed, pulling myself out of that headspace and clicking my remote to show a scan of an invitation. “Kai, Wonho, and I will be attending the annual Humanité Gala. Hyungwon and Jace are already on the guest list.”

“The irony,” One giggled.

“Kai and I will be going as dates. You will be posing as an up-and-coming businessman, while I will be his flavor of the month.” One and Wonho snickered at this but were shut up by Lux’s quick and harsh shush. “Wonho you will be our bodyguard and eyes on the ground.”

“Typical,” the muscular man murmured, which cracked a small smile on I.M’s face.

“Seven, you will be our eye in the sky during the Gala up behind the stage in the rafters,” I said, finally looking to the man on the edge of the semi-circle. He didn’t say anything but gave me a quick nod in acknowledgment. “Lux and One will be on coms while I.M will be our chauffeur to and from the venue.”

I.M perked up at his name, and One gave him a wink at his overt interest. “Don’t worry kid, I’ll let you choose which car you get to drive.” This seemed to excite the young daredevil and I couldn’t help my small smile.

“Kai and I will take out our targets in the venue by taking them back to their hotel rooms. After they are disposed, Kai and I will scale up to the roof where Seven and Wonho will rendezvous with us.” I clicked through to show various diagrams of the building, including where we would meet with the aforementioned sniper and jarhead. “From there we will make our way to the adjacent building, down their service entrance, and meet I.M on the ground. From that point on its extraction until we meet back here at headquarters.”

“A-and what happens in the hotel rooms?” Lux asked quietly, looking uncomfortable and anxious as she curled up in her seat.

I had to stop and clear my mind to answer her. I was planning on discussing that with Kai privately, but now that the question was out in the open I didn’t feel like I could deflect especially with Wonho, I.M, and One looking at me intently. Coughing awkwardly I looked at Lux and Kai, once more refusing to look at the sniper to my left. “I will take Hyungwon and Kai will take Jace. We will both work the targets to ensure they take us to their respective hotel rooms. From there..” I had to stop for a moment and push myself back into my deadly-spy persona. That version of me wouldn’t feel embarrassed talking about this. “Kai and I will subdue them. Hyungwon is notorious for what he puts up his nose, so I will make it look like they overdosed.”

Everyone kept staring at me with some semblance of shocked expressions. One’s eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline. He had no input on the details of this mission, so this was his first time hearing my plan. Wonho looked impressed, I.M looked almost nauseous, Lux looked angry, and Kai looked pained. I still couldn’t make myself look at Seven.

Clearing my throat and tossing my hair over my shoulder, I clicked the remote to the next slide. “Moving on,” I said, quickly ending the tension building. “Operation Gamma is the next phase of all this.”

One stayed silent during my whole spiel, but I let him take over this one because this was his brain-child and the culmination of everything we had been working towards. “This is the mission that requires all of us. It’s what we are here to do,” he said, clicking to another diagram of the JYPE ports. “This is the mission where we intercept the shipment and take out Suho’s Smuggler.”

One clicked to show a grainy picture of a young man with black hair. He looked like he had multiple piercings on his face and ears, but the quality was poor. However, his creepy smile still showed free and clear through the noise. “This is Byun Baekhyun and he is Suho’s right hand. Killing him will draw Suho out and will give us an opportunity to strike. With Baekhyun dead, Suho will retreat to his generals and call a meeting at his home in Busan.” One showed an aerial image of a compound, but before any of us could question it he continued on. “Jae, Kai, Wonho, and I will all be on the ground, hidden and ready to strike should we need to. I.M and Lux will be on coms and Seven will be our eye in the sky. Should you see an opportunity to take a shot, take it. I don’t care where the bullet comes from as long as he drops dead.”

“Standard rules?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes,” One nodded. “From there we will rendezvous back here, but we can’t create finite plans until we complete Mission Alpha.”

“That’s very vague and not stressful at all,” Seven growled, looking at his brother with clear annoyance.

One simply shrugged and pouted at his elder, “What can you do?”

“After we complete Gamma it’s a free-for-all,” I said, interrupting the two siblings. “Mission Spring Cleaning is where we separate to take out the rest of the syndicate.” Clicking over, I stopped at a page that had four images on it, with Suho sitting in the upper corner. Two of the images had grainy pictures of other targets, but one of them was simply a black and white silhouette. “One will undergo a solo mission to find and take out Suho. Don’t ask him about his plans he won’t tell,” I told them exasperatedly, looking at One’s gleeful face with an eye roll.

“Yup,” One chirped with a pleased smile. “Jae-baby here will be going after Suho’s financier, who shall be kept anonymous until her mission is done.” Everyone looked confused at this, but One continued before any questions could be asked. He exceptionally was good at cutting people off. “Wonho will be taking out Suho’s rabid-dog, affectionately name Psychopath,” he said pointing to an image of a blonde-haired man. “And the final target, Suho’s mad-doctor Yara Valaskova, is up for grabs for whoever wants to blow her brains out.” One said it so casually, and I thought I.M was about to throw up. “But we can cross that bridge when it comes to it.”

“Any questions,” I asked, facing the room and opening up the floor. No one moved, which wasn’t a shock considering how desensitized all of us, except for I.M, were to death and killing at this point. The young man in question still looked off-put, but he slowly raised a shaky hand into the hair. “I.M?” I said in acknowledgment.

“When do we start?” His question came out softly and it was definitely not what I was expecting. Based on the look on his face I was expecting a more fearful plead, but he surprised me and I couldn’t help the wide smile that broke over my face.

I liked this kid.

One just giggled at his question and began to rock back and forth like an idiot. He looked like a child who got a cookie out of the cookie jar after being told no—so mischievous and mocking all at once. His smile was so big that it touched his eyes, and I could immediately tell that we were in for some of his obnoxious theatrics.

“We start when you die my little spider monkey,” One giggled, causing I.M to almost fall out of his chair in fear.

Rolling my eyes, I took this as my cue to leave and end the meeting. “Go get some sleep everyone,” I sighed, stepping away from the projector screen and away from One and Wonho as they hauled I.M to his feet and dragged him to One’s office. Lux quickly stood up and left, no doubt going to her lab. Kai watched her go with a sad look in his eyes but remained seated. When she was gone he stared at the ground like it was the most interesting thing in the world. I observed him with pity from beyond the semi-circle, but I was quickly distracted by the feeling of two large hands on my hips.

“Red huh?” the dark voice whispered in my ear, sending goosebumps up and down my spine at the deep tone that was laced with lust. Teeth latched onto the sensitive skin where my neck met my jaw and I could feel myself melt into the familiar body behind me.

“You promised you would stop getting jealous,” I said, muffling a whine as Seven grazed my throat with sharp nips and wet kisses.

He placed a particularly hard bite on the juncture of my throat which had me grasping the hands on my hips like an anchor. He brought me flush against him and I could feel his growing hardness behind me as he took control and ground my hips into his. “You like me jealous,” He whispered harshly into my ear before dragging me away from the common room and the sad male spy.

At first it was awkward moaning out a number as I came over and over again against Seven’s tongue, fingers, and dick. I didn’t know the real name of my lover and that kept me at bay for a little while. However, in the year since I joined Specter, he became my favorite pastime. Soon, knowing his real name became insignificant so long as I could walk away from his bed deliciously sore and spent.

Seven is a killer and he’s one of the best. He did two tours with the Marines and he came back with a Iot of cash, a name for himself, and a lot of medals. But somewhere in those deserts he lost his soul. He’s always trying to fuck the war out of himself while fucking me.

I have orgasms and he has war-gasms.

It works out for us both in the end. When I am shaking I forget about dark, brown eyes and my urge to take revenge. I forget about stuffing white powder up my nose or plunging a knife into tender flesh. I forget about the screams of help that I ignored for a warm body and beautiful lies.

He pulled me down a dark hallway and into one of the various bedrooms in the compound. This one was unoccupied, but for the night it would be our escape. We were a mess of tongues, limbs, and moans as we fell on the bed together. In the darkness I couldn’t see a damn thing, but Seven was as clear as a sunny day. Clothes were ripped off and hands were wandering and grabbing at heated skin. My pants were lost somewhere in the room and I was pushed onto my back with the tattered remains of my t-shirt lying around me. Seven was as equally torn to shreds as we became one with choked gasps. I could feel the energy vibrating off of him—waves of lust, jealousy, and anger wrapped me around him as I saw stars behind my eyes.

At this very moment I wanted to forget everything that wasn’t Seven and the way he danced across my flesh. Everything, except for him, was insignificant for a few hours. Once the sun rose we would go back to our anointed roles and personas, but for tonight we were just two lost souls who needed something to keep us from floating away.

Song: Revolution - The Score

It’s been a minute y’all. On that note, I have a lot of time to read and write at the moment, so I finally finished this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it, especially considering it’s been a while since I posted anything.

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gogogogolev · 4 years

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Preview of 2020 Skate America & COVID-19 precautions

Stephen is making his Grand Prix and senior international debut this month. He will be the first Canadian skater to compete internationally in the 2020-2021 season. Read on for a detailed preview.

2020 Skate America will be taking place October 23-24 at Orleans Arena in Las Vegas, Nevada. This is the same venue where 2019 Skate America was held. This year's version will not feature flower boys in Elvis costumes. And maybe no skating dogs. Fans are not permitted to attend. The arena will be filled with cardboard cutouts instead. On the whole, it seems this event will be more serious than campy.

The schedule, posted on page 10 of the announcement, has the men's SP at 18:00 PDT on Friday, October 23. The FS is scheduled for 13:05 PDT on Saturday, October 24. We already know the start orders for the SP.

Considering the current Covid-19 situation and to avoid unnecessary gatherings in each Grand Prix event, the participating Skaters will be listed according to their ISU World Standing placement at the time of the event. The starting order in the Short Program/Rhythm Dance segment will be the reverse order of the ISU World Standing placements.

If we use the World Standings as of September 18, we get the following:

Group 1 91 Ilia Malinin 87 Maxim Naumov 60 Jimmy Ma 47 Alexei Krasnozhon 38 Stephen Gogolev 35 Alexei Bychenko

Group 2 23 Vincent Zhou 21 Tomoki Hiwatashi 19 Michal Březina 17 Camden Pulkinen 12 Keegan Messing 4 Nathan Chen

Stephen's World Standing moved up one spot to 38th with the retirement of Sergei Voronov. He will skate fifth in the first group. Since this is the first international event where Canadian skaters will compete, and Stephen skates before Keegan, he will be the first Canadian to compete internationally this season. The FS start order will be the reverse order of the SP result (i.e. the man who places 12th in the SP goes first, 11th place goes 2nd, etc.). There is no exhibition gala.

Stephen will be one of a handful of foreign skaters at this event. He has experience competing against half of the skaters here. For Stephen, the focus is unlikely to be on what the other men are doing. Putting out his content, trying to skate clean, achieving whatever goals he’s set for himself, and getting meaningful feedback from the judges are the likely priorities for this event. There are several Team Raf skaters, so there will probably be a few coaches on hand. Stephen must be excited to compete at an event with Nathan.

The judging panel will be less diverse than usual.

Given the current Covid-19 situation, exceptionally the Host Member will invite only Judges from its own country to the Grand Prix event or Judges, residing in the host country. A minimum qualification of “international” is however required.

As far as I know there are some Canadian judges living in the US. However, I do not know whether or not they have been invited to judge.

Skate Canada will be covering the expenses for Stephen and Keegan at this event as they are not U.S. competitors. Specific rules are in place to create a 'bubble'. From the media guide:

No persons may enter any common areas of the Orleans Hotel Casino Property, including, but not limited to the following: - Hotel restaurants - Casino - Gift shop - Coffee shop - Gym and pool - Movie theatres - Bowling alley

People are not permitted to go to convenience or drug stores to make purchases. Room service is also not avaiable, neither is the usage of food delivery services. There is a common dining area apparently featuring Plexiglass dividers. The organizers are offering a takeout option for attendees to take food back to their rooms. They are also encouraging people to bring their own snacks.

There is prize money that will be given out at this event. Skate America currently meets the criteria for a qualified event. If there are withdrawals this status may change, as the entries at the time of competition are what count. The prize money, as stated in the Grand Prix Announcement:

Per Skater/Couple 1st Place US$12,000 2nd Place US$ 7,000 3rd Place US$ 3,500 4th Place US$ 1,500 5th Place US$ 1,000 Total per category: US$ 25,000

The announcement states that scores from the Grand Prix events will not count for TES minimum scores and the rankings will not count for World Standing points. I do not believe that there has been anything said about these scores counting for the Season's Best list, but that may be a possibility.

All attendees of this event will have to follow the Health and Safety plan set out by USFS on pages 11 and 12 of the announcement (shared above). There are specific requirements for people 14 and 7 days out from the event. We have crossed that first deadline. Attendees will be tested on site for COVID-19 upon arrival, and participate in an orientation. There is a mandatory quarantine in the hotel room following check-in until a negative result is returned, which is expected to take 24-48 hours. The event will actually begin on Monday, October 19 to allow time for all this to occur.

To minimize the number of people on site, skaters are limited to one coach per skater. Chaperones are also discouraged. One chaperone per minor will be permitted to watch their own skater, but they will also be subject to stringent health protocols.

Approved Chaperones will be required to be COVID tested upon arrival and then quarantine until results indicate a negative result. The approved chaperones may not interact with athletes while at the event and must be in their own hotel room. Upon agreement and a negative COVID test, chaperones will be provided access to a defined seating area in the arena and will be allowed in and out of the arena only to see their athlete. They will not be allowed to stay in the arena and watch remaining events.

So Mama Irina, or whoever else accompanies Stephen, is going to have to go through the trouble of doing all this.

I wanted to highlight the pandemic protocols to help you all understand what's being done to ensure safety. I also wanted to point out how much effort the skaters and everyone accompanying them are putting in in order for them to be able to compete at one Grand Prix event. I hope fans will keep this in mind before unleashing criticism.

Please join me in wishing Stephen and his team the best as they head into 2020 Skate America. Good luck! And please stay safe.

#stephen gogolev #2020 Skate America #GPFigure #2020 2021 season #information

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hlupdate · 5 years

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Harry Styles isn’t exactly dressed down for lunch. He’s got a white floppy hat that Diana Ross might have won from Elton in a poker game at Cher’s mansion circa 1974, plus Gucci shades, a cashmere sweater, and blue denim bell-bottoms. His nail polish is pink and mint green. He’s also carrying his purse — no other word for it — a yellow patent-canvas bag with the logo “Chateau Marmont.” The tough old ladies who work at this Beverly Hills deli know him well. Gloria and Raisa dote on him, calling him “my love” and bringing him his usual tuna salad and iced coffee. He turns heads, to put it mildly, but nobody comes near because the waitresses hover around the booth protectively.

He was just a small-town English lad of 16 when he became his generation’s pop idol with One Direction. When the group went on hiatus, he struck out on his own with his brash 2017 solo debut, whose lead single was the magnificently over-the-top six-minute piano ballad “Sign of the Times.” Even people who missed out on One Direction were shocked to learn the truth: This pinup boy was a rock star at heart.

A quick highlight reel of Harry’s 2019 so far: He hosted the Met Gala with Lady Gaga, Serena Williams, Alessandro Michele, and Anna Wintour serving an eyebrow-raising black lace red-carpet look. He is the official face of a designer genderless fragrance, Gucci’s Mémoire d’une Odeur. When James Corden had an all-star dodgeball match on The Late Late Show, Harry got spiked by a hard serve from Michelle Obama, making him perhaps the first Englishman ever hit in the nads on TV by a First Lady.

Closer to his heart, he brought down the house at this year’s Rock & Roll Hall of Fame ceremony with his tribute to his friend and idol Stevie Nicks. “She’s always there for you,” Harry said in his speech. “She knows what you need: advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl.” He added, “She’s responsible for more running mascara — including my own — than all the bad dates in history.” (Backstage, Nicks accidentally referred to Harry’s former band as “’NSync.” Hey, a goddess can get away with that sort of thing.)

Harry has been the world’s It boy for nearly a decade now. The weirdest thing about him? He loves being this guy. In a style of fast-lane celebrity that takes a ruthless toll on the artist’s personality, creativity, sanity, Harry is almost freakishly at ease. He has managed to grow up in public with all his boyish enthusiasm intact, not to mention his manners. He’s dated a string of high-profile women — but he never gets caught uttering any of their names in public, much less shading any of them. Instead of going the usual superstar-pop route — en vogue producers, celebrity duets, glitzy club beats — he’s gone his own way, and gotten more popular than ever. He’s putting the finishing touches on his new album, full of the toughest, most soulful songs he’s written yet. As he explains, “It’s all about having sex and feeling sad.”

The Harry Charm is a force of nature, and it can be almost frightening to witness in action. The most startling example might be a backstage photo from February taken with one of his heroes, Van Morrison. You have never seen a Van picture like this one. He’s been posing for photos for 50 years, and he’s been refusing to crack a smile in nearly all of them. Until he met Harry — for some reason, Van beams like a giddy schoolgirl. What did Harry do to him? “I was tickling him behind his back,” Harry confides. “Somebody sent me that photo — I think his tour manager took it. When I saw it, I felt like John Travolta in Pulp Fiction opening the case with the gold light shining. I was like, ‘Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t show this to anyone.’”

In interviews, Harry has always tended to coast on that charm, simply because he can. In his teens, he was in public every minute and became adept at guarding every scrap of his privacy. But these days, he’s finding out he has things he wants to say. He’s more confident about thinking out loud and seeing what happens. “Looser” is how he puts it. “More open. I’m discovering how much better it makes me feel to be open with friends. Feeling that vulnerability, rather than holding everything in.”

Like a lot of people his age, he’s asking questions about culture, gender, identity, new ideas about masculinity and sexuality. “I feel pretty lucky to have a group of friends who are guys who would talk about their emotions and be really open,” he says. “My friend’s dad said to me, ‘You guys are so much better at it than we are. I never had friends I could really talk to. It’s good that you guys have each other because you talk about real shit. We just didn’t.’”

It’s changed how he approaches his songs. “For me, it doesn’t mean I’ll sit down and be like, ‘This is what I have for dinner, and this is where I eat every day, and this is what I do before I go to bed,’” he says. “But I will tell you that I can be really pathetic when I’m jealous. Feeling happier than I’ve ever been, sadder than I’ve ever been, feeling sorry for myself, being mad at myself, being petty and pitiful — it feels really different to share that.”

At times, Harry sounds like an ordinary 25-year-old figuring his shit out, which, of course, he is. (Harry and I got to know each other last year, when he got in touch after reading one of my books, though I’d already been writing about his music for years.) It’s strange to hear him talk about shedding his anxieties and doubts, since he’s always come across as one of the planet’s most confident people. “While I was in the band,” he says, “I was constantly scared I might sing a wrong note. I felt so much weight in terms of not getting things wrong. I remember when I signed my record deal and I asked my manager, ‘What happens if I get arrested? Does it mean the contract is null and void?’ Now, I feel like the fans have given me an environment to be myself and grow up and create this safe space to learn and make mistakes.”

We slip out the back and spend a Saturday afternoon cruising L.A. in his 1972 silver Jaguar E-type. The radio doesn’t work, so we just sing “Old Town Road.” He marvels, “‘Bull riding and boobies’ — that is potentially the greatest lyric in any song ever.” Harry used to be pop’s mystery boy, so diplomatic and tight-lipped. But as he opens up over time, telling his story, he reaches the point where he’s pitching possible headlines for this profile. His best: “Soup, Sex, and Sun Salutations.”

How did he get to this new place? As it turns out, the journey involves some heartbreak. Some guidance from David Bowie. Some Transcendental Meditation. And more than a handful of magic mushrooms. But mostly, it comes down to a curious kid who can’t decide whether to be the world’s most ardently adored pop star, or a freaky artiste. So he decides to be both.

Two things about English rock stars never change: They love Southern California, and they love cars. A few days after Harry proclaimed the genius of “Old Town Road,” we’re in a different ride — a Tesla — cruising the Pacific Coast Highway while Harry sings along to the radio. “Californiaaaaaa!” he yells from behind the wheel as we whip past Zuma Beach. “It sucks!” There’s a surprising number of couples along the beach who seem to be arguing. We speculate on which ones are breaking up and which are merely having the talk. “Ah, yes, the talk,” Harry says dreamily. “Ye olde chat.”

Harry is feeling the smooth Seventies yacht-rock grooves today, blasting Gerry Rafferty, Pablo Cruise, Hall and Oates. When I mention that Nina Simone once did a version of “Rich Girl,” he needs to hear it right away. He counters by blowing my mind with Donny Hathaway’s version of John Lennon’s “Jealous Guy.”

Harry raves about a quintessential SoCal trip he just tried: a “cold sauna,” a process that involves getting locked in an ice chamber. His eyelashes froze. We stop for a smoothie (“It’s basically ice cream”) and his favorite pepper-intensive wheatgrass shot. It goes down like a dose of battery acid. “That’ll add years to your life,” he assures me.

We’re on our way to Shangri-La studios in Malibu, founded by the Band back in the 1970s, now owned by Rick Rubin. It’s where Harry made some of the upcoming album, and as we walk in, he grins at the memory. “Ah, yes,” he says. “Did a lot of mushrooms in here.”

Psychedelics have started to play a key role in his creative process. “We’d do mushrooms, lie down on the grass, and listen to Paul McCartney’s Ram in the sunshine,” he says. “We’d just turn the speakers into the yard.” The chocolate edibles were kept in the studio fridge, right next to the blender. “You’d hear the blender going, and think, ‘So we’re all having frozen margaritas at 10 a.m. this morning.’” He points to a corner: “This is where I was standing when we were doing mushrooms and I bit off the tip of my tongue. So I was trying to sing with all this blood gushing out of my mouth. So many fond memories, this place.”

It’s not mere rock-star debauchery — it’s emblematic of his new state of mind. You get the feeling this is why he enjoys studios so much. After so many years making One Direction albums while touring, always on the run, he finally gets to take his time and embrace the insanity of it all. “We were here for six weeks in Malibu, without going into the city,” he says. “People would bring their dogs and kids. We’d take a break to play cornhole tournaments. Family values!” But it’s also the place where he has proudly bled for his art. “Mushrooms and Blood. Now there’s an album title.”

Some of the engineers come over to catch up on gossip. Harry gestures out the window to the Pacific waves, where the occasional nude revelry might have happened, and where the occasional pair of pants got lost. “There was one night where we’d been partying a bit and ended up going down to the beach and I lost all my stuff, basically,” he says. “I lost all my clothes. I lost my wallet. Maybe a month later, somebody found my wallet and mailed it back, anonymously. I guess it just popped out of the sand. But what’s sad is, I lost my favorite mustard corduroy flares.” A moment of silence is held for the corduroy flares.

Recording in the studio today is Brockhampton, the self-proclaimed “world’s greatest boy band.” Harry says hi to all the Brockhampton guys, which takes a while since there seem to be a few dozen of them. “We’re together all the time,” one tells Harry out in the yard. “We see each other all day, every day.” He pauses. “You know how it is.”

Harry breaks into a dry grin. “Yes, I know how it is.”

One Direction made three of this century’s biggest and best pop albums in a rush — Midnight Memories, Four and Made in the A.M. Yet they cut those records on tour, ducking into the nearest studio when they had a day off. 1D were a unique mix of five different musical personalities: Harry, Niall Horan, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik, and Liam Payne. But the pace took its toll. Malik quit in the middle of a tour, immediately after a show in Hong Kong. The band announced its hiatus in August 2015.

It’s traditional for boy-band singers, as they go solo and grow up, to renounce their pop past. Everybody remembers George Michael setting his leather jacket on fire, or Sting quitting the Police to make jazz records. This isn’t really Harry Styles’ mentality. “I know it’s the thing that always happens. When somebody gets out of a band, they go, ‘That wasn’t me. I was held back.’ But it was me. And I don’t feel like I was held back at all. It was so much fun. If I didn’t enjoy it, I wouldn’t have done it. It’s not like I was tied to a radiator.”

Whenever Harry mentions One Direction — never by name, always “the band” or “the band I was in” — he uses the past tense. It is my unpleasant duty to ask: Does he see 1D as over? “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t think I’d ever say I’d never do it again, because I don’t feel that way. If there’s a time when we all really want to do it, that’s the only time for us to do it, because I don’t think it should be about anything else other than the fact that we’re all like, ‘Hey, this was really fun. We should do this again.’ But until that time, I feel like I’m really enjoying making music and experimenting. I enjoy making music this way too much to see myself doing a full switch, to go back and do that again. Because I also think if we went back to doing things the same way, it wouldn’t be the same, anyway.”

When the band stopped, did he take those friendships with him? “Yeah, I think so,” he says. “Definitely. Because above all else, we’re the people who went through that. We’re always going to have that, even if we’re not the closest. And the fact is, just because you’re in a band with someone doesn’t mean you have to be best friends. That’s not always how it works. Just because Fleetwood Mac fight, that doesn’t mean they’re not amazing. I think even in the disagreements, there’s always a mutual respect for each other — we did this really cool thing together, and we’ll always have that. It’s too important to me to ever be like, ‘Oh, that’s done.’ But if it happens, it will happen for the right reasons.”

If the intensity of the Harry fandom ever seems mysterious to you, there’s a live clip you might want to investigate, from the summer of 2018. Just search the phrase “Tina, she’s gay.” In San Jose, on one of the final nights of his tour, Harry spots a fan with a homemade sign: “I’m Gonna Come Out to My Parents Because of You!” He asks the fan her name (she says it’s Grace) and her mother’s name (Tina). He asks the audience for silence because he has an important announcement to make: “Tina! She’s gaaaaay!” Then he has the entire crowd say it together. Thousands of strangers start yelling “Tina, she’s gay,” and every one of them clearly means it — it’s a heavy moment, definitely not a sound you forget after you hear it. Then Harry sings “What Makes You Beautiful.” (Of course, the way things work now, the clip went viral within minutes. So did Grace’s photo of Tina giving a loving thumbs-up to her now-out teenage daughter. Grace and Tina attended Harry’s next show together.)

Harry likes to cultivate an aura of sexual ambiguity, as overt as the pink polish on his nails. He’s dated women throughout his life as a public figure, yet he has consistently refused to put any kind of label on his sexuality. On his first solo tour, he frequently waved the pride, bi, and trans flags, along with the Black Lives Matter flag. In Philly, he waved a rainbow flag he borrowed from a fan up front: “Make America Gay Again.” One of the live fan favorites: “Medicine,” a guitar jam that sounds a bit like the Grateful Dead circa Europe ’72, but with a flamboyantly pansexual hook: “The boys and girls are in/I mess around with them/And I’m OK with it.”

He’s always had a flair for flourishes like this, since the 1D days. An iconic clip from November 2014: Harry and Liam are on a U.K. chat show. The host asks the oldest boy-band fan-bait question in the book: What do they look for in a date? “Female,” Liam quips. “That’s a good trait.” Harry shrugs. “Not that important.” Liam is taken aback. The host is in shock. On tour in the U.S. that year, he wore a Michael Sam football jersey, in support of the first openly gay player drafted by an NFL team. He’s blown up previously unknown queer artists like King Princess and Muna.

What do those flags onstage mean to him? “I want to make people feel comfortable being whatever they want to be,” he says. “Maybe at a show you can have a moment of knowing that you’re not alone. I’m aware that as a white male, I don’t go through the same things as a lot of the people that come to the shows. I can’t claim that I know what it’s like, because I don’t. So I’m not trying to say, ‘I understand what it’s like.’ I’m just trying to make people feel included and seen.”

On tour, he had an End Gun Violence sticker on his guitar; he added a Black Lives Matter sticker, as well as the flag. “It’s not about me trying to champion the cause, because I’m not the person to do that,” he says. “It’s just about not ignoring it, I guess. I was a little nervous to do that because the last thing I wanted was for it to feel like I was saying, ‘Look at me! I’m the good guy!’ I didn’t want anyone who was really involved in the movement to think, ‘What the fuck do you know?’ But then when I did it, I realized people got it. Everyone in that room is on the same page and everyone knows what I stand for. I’m not saying I understand how it feels. I’m just trying to say, ‘I see you.’”

At one of his earliest solo shows, in Stockholm, he announced, “If you are black, if you are white, if you are gay, if you are straight, if you are transgender — whoever you are, whoever you want to be, I support you. I love every single one of you.” “It’s a room full of accepting people.… If you’re someone who feels like an outsider, you’re not always in a big crowd like that,” he says. “It’s not about, ‘Oh, I get what it’s like,’ because I don’t. For example, I go walking at night before bed most of the time. I was talking about that with a female friend and she said, ‘Do you feel safe doing that?’ And I do. But when I walk, I’m more aware that I feel OK to walk at night, and some of my friends wouldn’t. I’m not saying I know what it feels like to go through that. It’s just being aware.”

‘Man cannot live by coffee alone,” Harry says. “But he will give it a damn good try.” He sips his iced Americano — not his first today, or his last. He’s back behind the wheel, on a mission to yet another studio — but this time for actual work. Today it’s string overdubs. Harry is dressed in Gucci from head to toe, except for one item of clothing: a ratty Seventies rock T-shirt he proudly scavenged from a vintage shop. It says “Commander Quaalude.”

On the drive over, he puts on the jazz pianist Bill Evans — “Peace Piece,” from 1959, which is the wake-up tone on his phone. He just got into jazz during a long sojourn in Japan. He likes to find places to hide out and be anonymous: For his first album, he decamped to Jamaica. Over the past year, he spent months roaming Japan.

In February, he spent his 25th birthday sitting by himself in a Tokyo cafe, reading Haruki Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. “I love Murakami,” he says. “He’s one of my favorites. Reading didn’t really used to be my thing. I had such a short attention span. But I was dating someone who gave me some books; I felt like I had to read them because she’d think I was a dummy if I didn’t read them.”

A friend gave him Murakami’s Norwegian Wood. “It was the first book, maybe ever, where all I wanted to do all day was read this,” he says. “I had a very Murakami birthday because I ended up staying in Tokyo on my own. I had grilled fish and miso soup for breakfast, then I went to this cafe. I sat and drank tea and read for five hours.”

In the studio, he’s overseeing the string quartet. He has the engineers play T. Rex’s “Cosmic Dancer” for them, to illustrate the vibe he’s going for. You can see he enjoys being on this side of the glass, sitting at the Neve board, giving his instructions to the musicians. After a few run-throughs, he presses the intercom button to say, “Yeah, it’s pretty T. Rex. Best damn strings I ever heard.” He buzzes again to add, “And you’re all wonderful people.”

He’s curated his own weird enclave of kindred spirits to collaborate with, like producers Jeff Bhasker and Tyler Johnson. His guitarist Mitch Rowland was working at an L.A. pizza shop when Harry met him. They started writing songs for the debut; Rowland didn’t quit his job until two weeks into the sessions. One of his closest collaborators is also one of his best friends: Tom Hull, a.k.a. Kid Harpoon, a longtime cohort of Florence and the Machine. Hull is an effusive Brit with a heart-on-sleeve personality. Harry calls him “my emotional rock.” Hull calls him “Gary.”

Hull was the one who talked him into taking a course on Transcendental Meditation at David Lynch’s institute — beginning each day with 20 minutes of silence, which doesn’t always come naturally to either of them. “He’s got this wise-beyond-his-years timelessness about him,” Hull says. “That’s why he went on a whole emotional exploration with these songs.” He’s 12 years older, with a wife and kids in Scotland, and talks about Harry like an irreverent but doting big brother.

Last year, Harry was in the gossip columns dating the French model Camille Rowe; they split up last summer after a year together. “He went through this breakup that had a big impact on him,” Hull says. “I turned up on Day One in the studio, and I had these really nice slippers on. His ex-girlfriend that he was really cut up about, she gave them to me as a present — she bought slippers for my whole family. We’re still close friends with her. I thought, ‘I like these slippers. Can I wear them — is that weird?’

“So I turn up at Shangri-La the first day and literally within the first half-hour, he looks at me and says, ‘Where’d you get those slippers? They’re nice.’ I had to say, ‘Oh, um, your ex-girlfriend got them for me.’ He said, ‘Whaaaat? How could you wear those?’ He had a whole emotional journey about her, this whole relationship. But I kept saying, ‘The best way of dealing with it is to put it in these songs you’re writing.’”

True to his code of gallant discretion, Harry doesn’t say her name at any point. But he admits the songs are coming from personal heartbreak. “It’s not like I’ve ever sat and done an interview and said, ‘So I was in a relationship, and this is what happened,’” he says. “Because, for me, music is where I let that cross over. It’s the only place, strangely, where it feels right to let that cross over.”

The new songs are certainly charged with pain. “The stars didn’t align for them to be a forever thing,” Hull says. “But I told him that famous Iggy Pop quote where he says, ‘I only ever date women who are going to fuck me up, because that’s where the songs are.’ I said, ‘You’re 24, 25 years old, you’re in the eligible-bachelor category. Just date amazing women, or men, or whatever, who are going to fuck you up, and explore and have an adventure and let it affect you and write songs about it.’”

His band is full of indie rockers who’ve gotten swept up in Hurricane Harry. Before becoming his iconic drum goddess, Sarah Jones played in New Young Pony Club, a London band fondly remembered by a few dozen of us. Rowland and Jones barely knew anything about One Direction before they met Harry — the first time they heard “Story of My Life” was when he asked them to play it. Their conversation is full of references to Big Star or Guided by Voices or the Nils Lofgren guitar solo in Neil Young’s “Speakin’ Out.” This is a band full of shameless rock geeks, untainted by industry professionalism.

In the studio, while making the album, Harry kept watching a vintage Bowie clip on his phone — a late-Nineties TV interview I’d never seen. As he plays it for me, he recites along — he’s got the rap memorized. “Never play to the gallery,” Bowie advises. “Never work for other people in what you do.” For Harry, this was an inspiring pep talk — a reminder not to play it safe. As Bowie says, “If you feel safe in the area that you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area. Always go a little further into the water than you feel you are capable of being in. Go a little bit out of your depth. And when you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting.”

He got so obsessive about Joni Mitchell and her 1971 classic Blue, he went on a quest. “I was in a big Joni hole,” he says. “I kept hearing the dulcimer all over Blue. So I tracked down the lady who built Joni’s dulcimers in the Sixties.” He found her living in Culver City. “She said, ‘Come and see me,’” Hull says. “We turn up at her house and he said, ‘How do you even play a dulcimer?’ She gave us a lesson. Then she got a bongo and we were all jamming with these big Cheshire Cat grins.” She built the dulcimer Harry plays on the new album. “Joni Mitchell and Van Morrison, those are my two favorites,” he says. “Blue and Astral Weeks are just the ultimate in terms of songwriting. Melody-wise, they’re in their own lane.”

He’s always been the type to go overboard with his fanboy enthusiasms, ever since he was a kid and got his mind blown by Pulp Fiction. “I watched it when I was probably too young,” he admits. “But when I was 13, I saved up money from my paper route to buy a ‘Bad Motherfucker’ wallet. Just a stupid white kid in the English countryside with that wallet.” While in Japan, he got obsessively into Paul McCartney and Wings, especially London Town and Back to the Egg. “In Tokyo I used to go to a vinyl bar, but the bartender didn’t have Wings records. So I brought him Back to the Egg. ‘Arrow Through Me,’ that was the song I had to hear every day when I was in Japan.”

He credits meditation for helping to loosen him up. “I was such a skeptic going in,” he says. “But I think meditation has helped with worrying about the future less, and the past less. I feel like I take a lot more in—things that used to pass by me because I was always rushing around. It’s part of being more open and talking with friends. It��s not always the easiest to go in a room and say, ‘I made a mistake and it made me feel like this, and then I cried a bunch.’ But that moment where you really let yourself be in that zone of being vulnerable, you reach this feeling of openness. That’s when you feel like, ‘Oh, I’m fucking living, man.’”

After quite a few hours of recording the string quartet, a bottle of Casamigos tequila is opened. Commander Quaalude pours the drinks, then decides what the song needs now is a gaggle of nonsingers bellowing the chorus. “Muppet vocals” is how he describes it. He drags everyone in sight to crowd around the mics. Between takes, he wanders over to the piano to play Harry Nilsson’s “Gotta Get Up.” One of the choir members, creative director Molly Hawkins, is the friend who gave him the Murakami novel. “I think every man should read Norwegian Wood,” she says. “Harry’s the only man I’ve given it to who actually read it.”

It’s been a hard day’s night in the studio, but after hours, everyone heads to a dive bar on the other side of town to see Rowland play a gig. He’s sitting in with a local bar band, playing bass. Harry drives around looking for the place, taking in the sights of downtown L.A. (“Only a city as narcissistic as L.A. would have a street called Los Angeles Street,” he says.) He strolls in and leans against the bar in the back of the room. It’s an older crowd, and nobody here has any clue who he is. He’s entirely comfortable lurking incognito in a dim gin joint. After the gig, as the band toasts with PBRs, an old guy in a ball cap strolls over and gives Rowland a proud bear hug. It’s his boss from the pizza shop.

In the wee hours, Harry drives down a deserted Sunset Boulevard, his favorite time of night to explore the city streets, arguing over which is the best Steely Dan album. He insists that Can’t Buy a Thrill is better than Countdown to Ecstasy (wrongly), and seals his case by turning it up and belting “Midnight Cruiser” with truly appalling gusto. Tonight Hollywood is full of bright lights, glitzy clubs, red carpets, but the prettiest pop star in town is behind the wheel, singing along with every note of the sax solo from “Dirty Work.”

A few days later, on the other side of the world: Harry’s pad in London is lavish, yet very much a young single dude’s lair. Over here: a wall-size framed Sex Pistols album cover. Over there: a vinyl copy of Stevie Nicks’ The Other Side of the Mirror, casually resting on the floor. He’s having a cup of tea with his mum, Anne, the spitting image of her son, all grace and poise. “We’re off to the pub,” he tells her. “We’re going to talk some shop.” She smiles sweetly. “Talk some shit, probably,” says Anne.

We head off to his local, sloshing through the rain. He’s wearing a Spice World hoodie and savoring the soggy London-osity of the day. “Ah, Londres!” he says grandly. “I missed this place.” He wants to sit at a table outside, even though it’s pouring, and we chat away the afternoon over a pot of mint tea and a massive plate of fish and chips. When I ask for toast, the waitress brings out a loaf of bread roughly the size of a wheelbarrow. “Welcome to England,” Harry says.

He’s always had a fervent female fandom, and, admirably, he’s never felt a need to pretend he doesn’t love it that way. “They’re the most honest — especially if you’re talking about teenage girls, but older as well,” he says. “They have that bullshit detector. You want honest people as your audience. We’re so past that dumb outdated narrative of ‘Oh, these people are girls, so they don’t know what they’re talking about.’ They’re the ones who know what they’re talking about. They’re the people who listen obsessively. They fucking own this shit. They’re running it.”

He doesn’t have the uptightness some people have about sexual politics, or about identifying as a feminist. “I think ultimately feminism is thinking that men and women should be equal, right? People think that if you say ‘I’m a feminist,’ it means you think men should burn in hell and women should trample on their necks. No, you think women should be equal. That doesn’t feel like a crazy thing to me. I grew up with my mum and my sister — when you grow up around women, your female influence is just bigger. Of course men and women should be equal. I don’t want a lot of credit for being a feminist. It’s pretty simple. I think the ideals of feminism are pretty straightforward.”

His audience has a reputation for ferocity, and the reputation is totally justified. At last summer’s show at Madison Square Garden, the floor was wobbling during “Kiwi” — I’ve been seeing shows there since the 1980s, but I’d never seen that happen before. (The only other time? His second night.) His bandmates admit they feared for their lives, but Harry relished it. “To me, the greatest thing about the tour was that the room became the show,” he says. “It’s not just me.” He sips his tea. “I’m just a boy, standing in front of a room, asking them to bear with him.”

That evening, Fleetwood Mac take the stage in London — a sold-out homecoming gig at Wembley Stadium, the last U.K. show of their tour. Needless to say, their most devoted fan is in the house. Harry has brought a date: his mother, her first Fleetwood Mac show. He’s also with his big sister Gemma, bandmates Rowland and Jones, a couple of friends.

He’s in hyperactive-host mode, buzzing around his cozy VIP box, making sure everyone’s champagne glass is topped off at all times. As soon as the show begins, Harry’s up on his feet, singing along (“Tell me, tell me liiiiies!”) and cracking jokes. You can tell he feels free — as if his radar is telling him there aren’t snoopers or paparazzi watching. (He’s correct. This is a rare public appearance where nobody spots him and no photos leak online.) It’s family night. His friend Mick Fleetwood wilds out on the drum solo. “Imagine being that cool,” Gemma says.

Midway through the show, Harry’s demeanor suddenly changes. He gets uncharacteristically solemn and quiet, sitting down by himself and focusing intently on the stage. It’s the first time all night he’s taken a seat. He’s in a different zone than he was in a few minutes ago. But he’s seen many Fleetwood Mac shows, and he knows where they are in the set. It’s time for “Landslide.” He sits with his chin in hand, his eyes zeroing in on Stevie Nicks. As usual, she introduces her most famous song with the story of how she wrote it when she was just a lass of 27.

But Stevie has something else she wants to share. She tells the stadium crowd, “I’d like to dedicate this to my little muse, Harry Styles, who brought his mother tonight. Her name is Anne. And I think you did a really good job raising Harry, Anne. Because he’s really a gentleman, sweet and talented, and, boy, that appeals to me. So all of you, this is for you.”

As Stevie starts to sing “Landslide” — “I’ve been afraid of changing, because I built my life around youuuu” — Anne walks over to where Harry sits. She crouches down behind him, reaches her arms around him tightly. Neither of them says a word. They listen together and hold each other close to the very end of the song. Everybody in Wembley is singing along with Stevie, but these two are in a world of their own.

#harry styles #rs #260819 #drug mention

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darrencrissarmy · 5 years

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Darren performing at the 'Bring Change to Mind' annual gala, San Francisco, Oct 17, 2019

(Photos: Drew Altizer Photography/Shutterstock)

#darren criss #bring change to mind #san francisco #revels & revelations #fundraiser

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d-criss-news · 5 years

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Attendees of the gala, which is for a nonprofit that aims to raise awareness for mental health issues, were treated to a performance by Darren Criss.

Darren, who played serial killer Andrew Cunanan in last year's FX anthology The Assassination Of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story, wore a black suit.

The small screen hunk teamed the suit with a wine-colored shirt and accompanied himself on the guitar as he sang for the crowd. | Source

#darren criss #dailymail #bring change to mind gala #press #oct 2019 #san francisco

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lazuliblade · 5 years

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2019 Worlds - EX Gala rough report

I am, so tired. I slept about 3 hours last night. Apparently at the small medal ceremony Yuzu said he slept 3 hours last night. We’re comrades in sleep.

Ahhh, “Haru yo, Koi” was amazing. The Exhibition Gala was such a nice note to end on. I’m sad Yuzu didn’t get a chance to do an encore since he didn’t win -- we could have had it all. Haru yo Koi costume in the sakura-themed Kiss&Cry. Origin skated with the Haru yo Koi costume -- can you imagine? Dark overlord god of the universe, but in pale white-pink? That Ina Bauer with the arm choreo, done in the beautiful ruffly costume. The final spin into the dramatic triumph pose. It would have been glorious. But ah well.

Again, a proper report will follow later when I’m not as dead. Likely Tuesday since tomorrow I won’t be able to use my laptop. For now, some rough highlights:

Yuzu’s costume is so sparkly

When the skaters were gathering in the entrance to come out for the introductions, I saw sparkles from across the rink. I was in the corner on the same long side as the entrance but all the way on the other end, so I didn’t have a clear view like yesterday when I could see them enter/exit without obstruction. Immediately I thought “I bet that’s Yuzu” and I pulled up my binoculars. Yes, it was Yuzuru. Bless him for having beautiful costumes.

The costume was actually a really pale pink and looked almost white from a distance. I realized that it literally is the color of not just any pink sakura you see printed on containers/marketing ads/everything, but it’s the color of THE sakura you’d see in person. The nearly white flowers that don’t actually look pink until you get close. The sakura people people refer to when they mention flower viewing. The sakura trees that line the roads in many neighborhoods, the trees that the meteorological agency bases the cherry blossom forecast on. So he was dressed up in the color of the live flower.

Yuzu’s low hydroblade covers SO much ice, and he held it forever. He did two revolutions. It was in my corner, so I was able to see him sink deep into that position, and get lower still. It covered maybe a fourth of the rink? And the diameter was huge - covering a good chunk of the width of the rink. He had a moment where his head came up abruptly (he was facing away from me at that moment - but apparently it’s because he leaned far enough down to kiss the ice and then jerked back up), and then sunk lower yet again into the second revolution. The lady next to me was just in awe saying “wow, it looks like he’s gonna fall, doesn’t it?” There was like a centimeter between his body and the ice -- it almost looked like he was laying on it, but he was going so fast.

His Ina Bauer was luxurious. That’s it. That’s the one word that came to mind when he so smoothly slid into position and then smiled and tilted his torso back. Then leisurely did the arm motions like he was unconcerned about running out of speed or ice.

It covered a lot of distance as well. This started on the long side heading into my corner again, and wrapped around the entire short side of the rink and back to the middle of the opposite long side.

Also, holy heck he’s so fast. He was in the corner directly diagonal from me waaay on the other side of the rink, and he took just TWO crossovers and suddenly he was at full speed halfway across the rink doing those steps before the 3Lo - which was also landed in front of me.

The delayed Axel was so airy and high

His spins are crazily centered. The Sit Spin is a stationary point of twinkling stars in a vortex. It’s mesmerizing to watch because he doesn’t move from the position AT ALL.

Then he unfurls upward with the piano note runs, and everyone in the audience stood up before he hit his last spin upright position.

He changed the first spin early in the program where he reaches down to touch the ice with his fingertips and leaves those finger tracks - he didn’t reach down this time. I guess he didn’t want to slow down the speed of the spin? Who knows.

His smile when he threw the snow in the air. The atmosphere was of anticipation for this moment, and we all started clapping and shouting when he did it.

I have a lot of stuff from other skaters too, but this is getting super long already without it even being a properly polished post, so I’ll put it all under a cut and mention just the highlights that come to mind.

Nathan’s program was a great one to end on

He uses his arms well when he doesn’t have to focus so much energy into jumps - his choreo is always interesting and refreshing.

The upbeat song really got the crowd going. It was like sunshine after we had Sui/Han, Alina, and Papadakis/Cizeron.

His encore to the Nemesis choreo sequence was sharp, and I’m glad I got to see that skated with the energy he had way back in the 2017 GP Rostelecom.

Sui/Han were magnificent. They looked like one person in two bodies out there - which is exactly what Pairs is about. Everything was seamless. I’d seen this EX on video before, but seeing how smoothly they transferred the fan, how fluidly the cloth moved. I was really struck too by how beautifully intimate that last lift was where it looked like Wenjing was entrusting herself to his care, and he was cradling her close. It was so powerful especially with how they missed the first half of the season because of injuries and weren’t in great shape heading to Worlds.

The Italian skaters in general know how to do EXs

the audience around me were confused about him coming down the stairs from the stands, and the sudden stripping - yes, they’re losing their robes. It’s a “boxing” EX and you’re in for a good time.

Matteo Rizzo was a lot of fun, and I’m sad the crowd didn’t understand the song lyrics/were too hesitant/polite/whatever to be able to shout out “Ghost Busters” when the singer literally asks for listeners to shout the name. People loved the entire opening sequence with the beeping machine, and the middle part when the ghost scares him and he loses his backpack.

Michal Brezina and his island retreat skate. It was such a chill way to start off this entire gala.

Keiji’s JoJo program was amazing and the crowd loved it. He’s so in character and the lighting people really went all out with the effects. Yuzu fixed his hair/was fiddling with it afterward when they were in the finale getting ready for the group bow.

Shoma has such nice edges, and his 3A covers a lot of distance. The crowd was really supportive and I feel they just wanted him to skate freely.

Intro&Finale

Yuzu was so bubbly, smiley, giggly, it was effusive. He looked like he enjoyed it all more than anyone else. His smile was like sunshine.

When the Ice Dance teams were together doing their opening intro spins/lifts, the Men were by the boards on the far side from where I sat, so I could clearly see them stretching. Which is odd, because you’d think they should be warmed up to skate already, and the Ladies and Pairs weren’t doing anything like that. Yuzu was stretching his shoulders, reaching back as if trying to get his zipper, so I thought for a moment that he was fixing something, but the other guys were also stretching their arms and legs, so I figured he was stretching his shoulder blades. Yuzu looked like he was testing/envisioning something. The Ladies did their spins, and then the Men go out and do...a spiral side-by-side in a straight line heading towards the short side. They did the basic arabesque pose, and then Yuzu goes and does a catchfoot spiral - so I guess we did get a Biellmann after all. Kind of.

The Men getting in the center to put their hands together and do the whole “go team!” thing, Shoma was off somewhere in his head or forgot or something and then ran to catch up and throw his hand in. The audience laughed because that’s so Shoma.

The finale, we were wondering where Yuzu was, because all the skaters had gathered at the entrance ready to step out onto the ice, and then once on the ice he still wasn’t there. That’s when Nathan goes and brings him over like he’s the guest of honor - I don’t know if the choreographer planned it from the start, or if someone mentioned during practice that it would be nice to do that, but it was a beautiful sentiment.

When all the skaters lined up joining hands for the final bow, I couldn’t help notice how tall Yuzu looked next to Gabby Daleman. She skates so big I didn’t realize she was only 155cm (just the tiniest bit over 5ft).

and when the skaters skated up to the boards in a line holding hands, Yuzu did an arabesque spiral - like he did during the early FaOI shows in the summer.

He was being all cute when all the skaters were doing the two laps around the rink. Lots of peace signs up to his eyes and jumping/bouncing around/skating backwards

He tried to offer the mascot to join the group picture, but it seems the mascot couldn’t see what Yuzu was pointing to/intending, so Yuzu did exaggerated motions, and then when the mascot still didn’t get it, he did a full-body head tilt and there was lots of “are you not going to join then? Oh wait-yes? No, then? (hesitating halfway between turning for the group and the mascot)...wait, that IS a yes?” He helped hold the mascot and skated backwards with little wiggles tugging it along.

When the gold medalists were taking their customary picture, Yuzu was at the exit of the rink and did his final “arigatou gozaimashita” so the audience all screamed back acknowledgements and thanks.

Alina went back after all the pictures were over and did a revenge 3Lz that she fell on in her encore.

They tried to tug Nathan into doing a jump too, but he refused. (Nope, not going to repeat that mistake again when he broke his hip doing a 4T in a gala. Smart move.)

It all passed by so quickly. Look out for a polished retelling later.

#laz talks #worlds2019 #haru yo koi #yuzuru hanyu #this was supposed to be a short post #i'm off to bed now

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starcunning · 5 years

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6. First Steps

Go, therefore, like the eye of an angel to awaken his courage

For @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast‘s FFXIVWrite 2019. [Title] [AO3 mirror]

It was late in the evening, and the stars twinkled beyond Odette’s window. What they might portend she had no guess; perhaps her twin would know better. But neither of them were content now to rely overmuch on augury—there would be no opportune moments but the ones they made for themselves. Perhaps the Spinner would be kind to two daughters of Halone, but Odette doubted it. There had been too many failures on that score to convince her so now.

It was these thoughts that occupied her as her maid brushed her hair, long and silver, so that it fell in waves down her back. When she had nearly finished, but before she could begin the task of setting it and tucking it into her silken nightcap, Odette lifted one finger of the hand that rested upon her vanity. The girl—or perhaps not a girl at all, Odette reflected, being only a few years younger than Odette herself—stopped at once.

“Bring my jewelry box, please, Brigitte,” she said. If the maid thought it odd she did not dare say so, only set the brush aside and curtsied. “At once, miss,” she said. When she returned with the velvet-lined trays in their silver box, she set it before Odette and resumed her place at her back.

Odette opened the lid and arrayed the contents before her. A dazzling array of gemstones glittered back, bright as the stars outside. Amethysts and pearls dominated, though there were many pieces older than Odette herself and not quite to her tastes—the Dzemael line was not as given to a particular canon of appearance as was, say, House Fortemps with its dark-haired count and his dark-haired sons. To look at Odette beside her cousin Archombadin, one might never have thought they were related, and it was not merely her mother’s Durendaire blood that made the difference. But such concerns were less material to her now—she perused her jewels not with an eye toward the Scholisticate’s benefactors’ gala or Manon de Hauterive’s next masque, but for something else.

The rings were small, even the elaborate ones easy to secret away. Most of the earrings were the same. Odette ran her fingers along the chain of one necklace, long enough to loop about her throat several times, a brooch with a swan motif she’d been given at her debut; a bracelet with a small reliquary said to hold a splinter of Saint Valeroyant’s lance. In the end she came to a string of pearls with a heavy pendant. Should one wish to disassemble it, Odette thought, it would be simple enough with a goldsmith’s tools to part the pendant from the pearls—to pry back the tines and let fall the stones—even to snip apart the string of pearls. But they would still be a bit too large, a touch too awkward.

Odette lifted the pendant from the tray, the pearls clacking against one another as she did. The candlelight caught on the pink sapphire that dominated the setting, and she ran her thumb along its facets for a moment. She was surpassingly fond of the piece, but it was impractical. “Brigitte,” she said after a moment. “Yes, miss,” her maid said, and in the mirror Odette could watch her gaze fall upon the stone in her hand. “Would you like me to have that made ready for the ball next week?” “No,” Odette said. She turned about in her chair, offering the necklace up. “This is for you.” “Miss Odette,” Brigitte protested. “I couldn’t possibly!” Odette shook her head. “You really must,” she said, nonplussed. “There will be no work for you here soon.” “And a deal sooner if it’s said that I stole my lady’s jewels!” Odette blinked. Then she shook her head. “I’ll write a letter of recommendation to guard your reputation, but soon there will be nothing for you here. I tell you this in strictest confidence.” Brigitte laughed, not with joy but merely surprise. “What am I to do with this?” she wondered. “This is fit for wearing to your uncle’s investiture, not any occasion I might attend!” “Then sell it,” Odette said. Her tone was airy, but there was a part of her that despaired at the idea of her necklace going to market. “I can think of one occasion it might be meet for, though,” she said. “Oh, and what is that?” Brigitte retorted. Her surprise had made her bold, but that boldness only made Odette smile. “Your wedding, of course,” Odette said. “You must know that Micheloux is fond of you.” “And I am fond of him, but what of it?” Odette simply shrugged. As she stacked the trays back into the silver box, she spoke. “Since Grandpère is abdicating, he’ll have more need of his draftsmen than ever. Micheloux will have steady work, and if you retire from this house on the occasion of your marriage, no one would remark on it.” Brigitte seemed to consider this, staring down at the necklace in her hand. “My lady is much too kind,” she said. “Not kind,” Odette said. “Only practical.” Not kind at all.

* * * * *

“Selfish girl,” a woman was saying. Her teacup rattled against the saucer, placed there indelicately by an angry hand. Estellise de Dzemael was perfectly composed in public, but from time to time in private her mask would slip. “What was she thinking? At a time like this.” “She’s getting married, Maman,” Colette said placidly. She sipped at her tea. “It can’t be helped.”

Estellise huffed in annoyance. “She could at least have waited until after the feast. It’s obvious that Odette can’t dress herself, and I won’t have you embarrassing us on such an important occasion.” “Whatever could you possibly mean?” Odette asked. She did not meet her mother’s eyes, only looked down at the milky tea still remaining in her cup. “Look at you,” Estellise admonished. “You came to tea in your jerkin!” “Yes, Maman,” Odette said. “I had patrol this morning, as you well know. I was lucky to make it back at all.” “I don’t mind sharing the services of my maid,” Colette said. She reached for one of the little sandwiches set on a tray between the three of them. Estellise slapped the back of her hand: “Stop that,” she said, “or we’ll have to schedule another fitting, and there isn’t time! Look at you, your clothes barely fit you as it is!” Odette exchanged a glance with her sister, and in that look was the secret language of twins: it was true that Colette’s clothes perhaps didn’t fit her as well as they usually did, but she’d gone back to wearing foundation garments that made her uncomfortable. The newer replacements were in need of a bit of sewing up, but with a bit of luck they’d be ready before the new count’s investiture feast. Odette doubted that made the remark any easier to bear in the moment, though. Later, she was sure, she would hold Colette’s head against her shoulder and stroke her hair.

For the moment, though, Estellise seemed satisfied that her younger daughter was cowed, and turned her rancor back on Odette. “You had no duties the other day,” she said, “when you joined my sister and I at luncheon, and you were half a mess then too.” “I thought I looked quite nice,” Odette said. “That gown is your favorite color, and I’ve always gotten compliments on it, so I really don’t know what you mean.” “A woman with no jewels is half-undressed,” Estellise hissed. “You might as well have showed up naked.” “There’s a thought,” Odette quipped. Her mother’s face crumpled with anger. “You didn’t wear so much as a necklace! Where was that gaudy thing you love so much, hmm? It’s ugly, but at least you wouldn’t have looked shabby.” “It needed a bit of polishing,” Odette said simply. “You won’t see it before the feast.” She wouldn’t see it after, but there was no point in telling her mother that. Estellise shook her head. “My sister will think we’ve fallen on hard times, to say nothing of how the servants will talk. Why are you always creating trouble for me, ungrateful child?” “If it makes you feel any better,” Odette said, “I will point out that I’m wearing my favorite earrings right now.”

* * * * *

She was wearing them a few days later, too, when she adjourned herself to the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly. It was not merely House Dzemael which was experiencing a changing of the guard, and the Temple Knights’ headquarters were abuzz with activity. Odette cast her gaze about for the shock of white hair that usually allowed her to pick Estinien out of the crowd. The dragoon had always been closer to her twin than to her, but Odette didn’t doubt but that he could point her where she needed to go—at least for the pleasure of being shut of her thereafter.

Spying a head of pale hair, Odette fair sprinted up the steps. “Estinien,” she called, and that head turned. It was not Estinien at all, and she didn’t know how she’d made the mistake. The pale hair crowned a woman wearing a silvery circlet. Her eyes were brilliantly sea-green, and would have been beautiful if they did not look on Odette so coldly. “You’re …” Odette said, groping for an end to that sentence. “Ser Lucia,” she replied. “And you are Ser Odette de Dzemael. Were you looking for Ser Estinien?” Odette shook her head briefly, as though she could as easily shrug off her discomfort. “I was looking for Ser Aymeric, actually.” “The Lord-Commander is indisposed,” Ser Lucia replied. “Oh, I doubt that very much,” Odette said, laughing to herself as she turned away.

It should have bothered her, perhaps—Aymeric was a year her junior, after all, and though he was a skilled swordsman that had never been what had seen him promoted. It might have been easier to resent him had she not known that the rumors surrounding his birth were true—and had she not known him as he grappled with the implications as he came of age. Instead, as she made her way to the Lord Commander’s seat, she almost pitied him. The old accusations would come up again, like a bad gil, and he would have to weather them alone.

Aymeric’s office as Second Commander sat vacant, awaiting some new appointment to replace him, and so Odette continued to the end of the hall. She pressed her ear to the door, as she’d had long practice doing, but heard no voices within. Indisposed. What had this strange woman thought to do by keeping Odette from him? She shook her head, and lifted her hand to knock.

He really was everything a knight should be, and she remembered it every time he fixed her with those sky-blue eyes. Standing in the doorway to the chambers that were his new seat of power, Aymeric smiled at her. “Ah,” he said. “Odette. To what do I owe the pleasure? ’Tis an early hour yet for lunch.” Tempting as it had been to slip in at midday for a more proper farewell, Odette only shook her head. “I needed to speak with you,” she said. Then she said something strange: “Lord-Commander.” He frowned at her, his skin crinkling between his brows. “Of course,” he said, and took a step back to allow her in. He closed the door a moment later, and Odette led him back to the desk—his desk, already stacked with reams of paperwork and reports.

“I met someone interesting on the way in here,” Odette said. “A Ser Lucia? She had told me you were busy.” Aymeric glanced aside a moment. “Ser Lucia is my aide,” he said. “She was stationed at the Convictory before this, I believe, and recalled to aid in the transition. Perhaps she was simply overzealous in guarding my time. You must imagine there are any number of questions right now, and if I were to answer each one personally, I would have time for nothing else.” Odette pursed her lips. “No,” she said, “she knew who I was … so she ought to have known you’d want to see me. Besides, I’ve actually come on business for once.” Aymeric nodded. “What is it?”

Odette drew her sword. She held it loosely in one hand with the practiced ease that came from spending half a lifetime learning its use, but she did not wield it then, merely held it—at least until she laid it across his desk. “I’ve come to tender my resignation,” she said. He laughed—but like Brigitte a sennight before, his laughter was not borne of amusement but surprise. “Surely you have more faith in me than that,” he said. “Are we not old friends?” They were more than that, but Odette merely nodded. “I think the Archbishop chose wisely when he elected to appoint you to the position,” she said, “and I think that would be the case even if matters did not … stand as they do.” She set beside the blade a small book bound in leather covers—an illuminated manuscript that contained the text of her commission with the Temple Knights. That had been a gift from Aymeric himself, though he had protested it was from all of House Borel at the time. She slid it across the desk toward him. “Odette,” he said softly. “I have known you for the better part of my life, and in all that time you have wanted nothing so much as you have wanted to serve the Temple Knights.”

He was right, of course. She had even wanted it more than she’d wanted him—at least she had always been true to her office, if little else. “Things have changed,” she said. “You will have heard that Grandpère is retiring?” “Of course,” Aymeric said. “Colette told me weeks ago that Count Tarresson was abdicating.” “Circumstances at the house will not permit my service here any longer,” Odette said. Aymeric regarded her curiously. “Are you then to be a knight of your house instead?” he wondered. Odette looked down at the little book, in which had been written all her dreams. She was surprised at the ache in her chest—it had been easy to give up her jewels, and their value in coin at least was far dearer than the manuscript, though she did not doubt it had cost Aymeric a great deal to have it made—especially as a boy of fifteen summers counted such things. “It is because of those events I must withdraw my blade from service,” she said. “And if I refuse?” Aymeric said softly. “You would make of me a deserter?” Odette asked. There was a sharp note of panic in her voice. “Keep your blade,” the Lord-Commander said. “Ishgard may have need of it in the future.” She shook her head. “Should you call for it, I cannot promise to answer.”

“Ah,” he said after a moment. “So you are leaving.” A cold thrill shot through her, and she lifted her gaze to his. Others had suspected, perhaps, but she saw his confidence there in those eyes that ought to have been cold. “None have dared to say so,” she replied. “Not even you?” he murmured. “I cannot answer your questions, Aymeric,” she said softly. For a moment she felt a pang of heartache. It sat foreign in her breast, so strange that she was convinced for a moment it should have been his. Why should it have been? She had cause to wonder, and found herself turning over in her mind Ser Lucia’s eyes, dark and cold as the deep ocean. “Keep your blade,” Aymeric said once more, gently this time. “When I hear word that you have gone, you will be gone on a mission, and the duty to investigate will rest with me.” “Will you come after me?” Odette asked. He must have gauged the note of fear in her voice. “No,” he said. “Will I see you again before you go?” “No,” she replied. “Then may I kiss you goodbye?”

She only nodded, afraid of how her voice might sound if she dared to speak. Aymeric lifted a hand to her chin, his delicate touch tipping her face upward so that he could lean down and let his lips brush hers. He kissed her as gently as morning dew, and she repaid him, and for a long few moments they stood exchanging what would be their last kiss, until the next came, and the next, and in the end he put his arms around her and held her to his chest, his lips brushing her forehead.

Odette had the terrible inkling then that he might ask her to stay—to trade being a daughter for being a wife; one sort of bondage for another. She also had a horrible premonition that if she allowed herself to hear the question, she would say yes. She could not allow that to come to pass, so she retrieved her sword and her commission, and put the Congregation and its knightly commander at her back.

* * * * *

It was at her back when she stood beneath the Arc of the Worthy, her chocobo’s reins in hand. The bird was bridling at the delay, or perhaps at the sounds of a busy square. Odette was more than a little nervous herself—and dwelling on the details was no help. She could feel links of chain pressed against her skin, body-warm through her undershirt. It had taken weeks to sew them in beside the bones of her stays, and she had never been patient enough for embroidery until she had to be.

A few moments later, Finnea’s nervous chirrups were answered by the kweh! of another chocobo, and Odette turned her head to watch her twin approach. She was not alone, Odette was surpassingly annoyed to notice—there was a man sat astride the saddle behind her.

“Who’s this?” Odette demanded to know. “Nobody important,” the man said. He had dark skin and hair, and his features were not familiar. “Rempart Myste,” Colette said. “He works in the stables and found me readying my bird.” “Keen to join us on our ride into the countryside?” Odette asked. “I had hoped to go riding alone with my sister before all the excitement begins back at the house.” “I dropped one of my saddlebags,” Colette explained. “When he saw what I was carrying …” Odette turned her eyes on the man—Rempart. “Are you blackmailing my sister?” “No, miss,” he said. “I thought you were supposed to be loyal to House Dzemael,” Odette mused. “I swore my oaths to Count Tarresson,” Rempart replied, “not to his fool son. And unless I miss my guess, you were supposed to be loyal to House Dzemael, too.” “What do you want, then?” Odette asked. It was Colette that answered. “He wants what we want,” she said. “He wants out of that terrible house.” Colette hesitated. “He … dreams the same dreams.”

She swung herself up into the saddle of her chocobo and together the three of them passed beneath the Arc of the Worthy. The Steps of Faith stretched out before them, brilliantly white in the morning sun. Beyond them lay Coerthas, vast and green, and beyond that, the whole world.

“Then it’s past time we were gone, isn’t it?” Odette said.

#ff14 #FFXIVWrite2019 #odette #colette de dzemael #rempart myste #colette belongs to #dimvvold #and rempart belongs to #rashkah #temple nights #it's a minor feature sir but it checks out #original content #starcunning writes

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verypersonalscreencaps · 5 years

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'I’ve never sought fame so I’m loving it ... I hope it lasts!': As she returns in the hit BBC sitcom Mum, Lesley Manville reveals how a surprise Oscar nomination finally made her hot in Hollywood at 63

By COLE MORETON FOR EVENT MAGAZINE PUBLISHED: 22:01, 27 April 2019

'I can’t believe this late flourish that I’m having,’ says Lesley Manville, beaming with happiness. ‘It just keeps on giving!’

She’s about to star in the third and final series of the brilliant BBC comedy Mum, playing the kind and loving widow Cathy, surrounded by a family of not-always-lovable fools, and slowly falling for her old friend Michael. It’s hugely popular, for reasons Event’s TV critic Deborah Ross explains below, but that’s not all. Suddenly, to her own astonishment, at the age of 63, Manville is Hollywood hot property.

‘I don’t really share this much, except to my very close friends, because you’ve got to let off steam to somebody about how extraordinary it is,’ says Manville, hand fluttering briefly as if to fan herself. ‘And the enormity of how it has shifted things. Everything has changed.’

Scripts and offers are flooding in since she was Oscar-nominated for her role in Daniel Day-Lewis’s 2018 film, Phantom Thread. After decades of working ‘under the radar’ – as she puts it – in the theatre, on television and in Mike Leigh movies such as High Hopes, Secrets & Lies and Another Year, Manville was thrust into the brightest spotlight of all. ‘I got to go to the Oscars with my sister and my son!

‘But, oh my God, it was a mad dash. I was on stage in the West End on the Saturday, got home at midnight, only had time to wash my hair and catch two hours’ sleep, then I was on a plane in the early hours.’ The Oscars were that Sunday night. ‘I got there with an hour-and-a-half to get ready.’

She rarely gives interviews and hasn’t talked about this publicly before, but there was something else remarkable about that night – her ex-husband Gary Oldman was also up for an Oscar, for his role as Sir Winston Churchill in Darkest Hour. The Hollywood media went wild at the idea of divorcees being nominated at the same time, and there was even talk of ‘fisticuffs on the red carpet’ – particularly since he had walked out on her in 1989, when their child Alfie was only three months old.

‘I had a son to bring up,’ she says, sounding matter-of-fact rather than bitter after all these years. ‘I was 32 and I had a baby. I wanted to carry on working and I did. I must have been knackered. I was up at dawn and looked after Alfie all day. Then my sister, who was working for me, would come and do teatime and bedtime. I’d go to do Miss Julie or Top Girls. Nice light plays!’

Somehow she gave her all to those far from light works. ‘I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I never wanted to stop working. And also I didn’t want to be a slovenly mother – not bothering, just phoning in motherhood because I was working. I wanted to be the best mother, with a proper meal on the table every night, and proper things in the lunchbox. All of that. And I’ve done it. That’s my biggest achievement, I think.’

Did she feel that way because Gary had abandoned them? ‘No, I’m just like that – I’m quite a perfectionist in my life and my work.’

That’s easy to imagine. Manville is friendly and engaging but happily describes herself as ‘a control freak’ and looks very much like she’s got it together in her chic, cream baggy pants with matching boots, Breton striped top and leather jacket. She speaks with the diction and bearing of someone who has spent a lifetime on the stage. Does Alfie appreciate what she did for him? ‘Oh, yes. We’ve got a really nice relationship. We do argue, but we’re very close.’

Oldman later admitted that work and alcoholism had made him ‘anxious, neurotic and hell to live with’ – but he moved in with the much younger Uma Thurman soon after taking off to America. His fifth wife, Gisele Schmidt, attended the Oscars with him, while Manville is single and walked the red carpet with Alfie, now a cameraman. So just how awkward was this public reunion?

‘Gary and I are fine. We’re friends. We’re more than fine. People wanted to make something of it that didn’t exist. Christ almighty, we’re 60. We’ve got a 30-year-old son. Come on!’ She does understand why there was such interest. ‘I even stayed sober for one night in LA at the Oscars so that I could do a live interview on the Today programme. Something should be made of it, for the sake of our son. Very few children have been to the Oscars and seen both their parents nominated. It was nice because Gary was there with his wife – who I get on with very well – his other two sons and my son. We’re grown-ups.’

In her eagerness to demonstrate that they’ve worked out their differences, Manville even reveals that the two former partners are planning to work together again.

‘Gary’s asked me to be in a new film he’s hoping to shoot soon. So of course we’re fine. It’s a film about Eadweard Muybridge, the man who invented film.’ The Victorian photographer devised camera techniques that laid the foundations for the motion picture industry. He also shot and killed his wife’s lover, but was acquitted by a jury on the grounds of justifiable homicide. ‘It will be amazing.’

And although she did not win the Oscar for best supporting actress last year (Oldman did win best actor), Manville says she has been almost overwhelmed by offers since then. ‘You get inundated with scripts and immediately I got offered a film with Liam Neeson, Normal People, that’s virtually a two-hander. It comes out at the end of this year.’

Neeson got himself in a lot of trouble earlier this year by confessing that in the past, after the rape of a friend, he had taken to prowling the streets with a cosh, hoping ‘some black b******’ would come out of a pub looking for a fight. He was actually expressing shame at having had those feelings and drew support from Whoopi Goldberg and the England footballer John Barnes, but others called for his films to be pulled. Did that put Normal People in danger?

Manville draws in breath, pulls back her shoulders and says: ‘I’m not going to talk about it at all... except to say that Liam is one of the nicest gentlemen I’ve ever worked with. And he’s a friend.’

Is she just like Cathy in Mum, who insists on seeing the best in people? ‘Oh, I don’t compare to Cathy. I’m kind, but I’m a bit more judgmental than she is. I’m from this chippy world of acting, where people are beautifully acerbic, funny, and sarcastic and cutting. I enjoy all of that. It’s banter.’

Still, she is firmly supportive of Neeson then quickly moves on. ‘Then I got a film I haven’t shot yet, called Dali Land, about Salvador and Gala Dali. I’m going to play Gala. Last week I was filming the new series of Harlots [in which she plays the madam of a high-class 18th-century brothel], then preparing for the film Let Him Go with Kevin Costner and Diane Lane.’

Does Manville thrive on all this new attention? ‘My sister can’t believe I’m not exhausted. It is overwhelming at times, but I do sort of feel I’ve earned it. I’ve put in decades of doing what I feel were the right jobs. I’ve never sold out. I’ve never sought fame. So I’m genuinely loving it and I’m hoping it will last, but it will only last if I keep turning out the work.’

Does she wish this had all happened before? ‘No. I’ve had an amazing, steady career. And I’m grateful for that. A lot of young people who get success very quickly come under huge pressure to maintain it and that is very hard. Especially if they’re good-looking, because if you’ve built a career based on your good looks when you’re young, it’s very difficult to carry on in a real and proper vein.’ Has she come under any of Hollywood’s infamous pressure to go under the knife?

‘No. I went to a lot of meetings while we were there, and the reaction I got is: ‘Oh, you’ve done nothing to your face, isn’t that great!’ If I suddenly started doing all that, it would make nonsense of this career I’ve had for 40-plus years. I’m setting myself up as somebody who likes to play characters. This Bible-bashing mad woman with a gun that I’m playing in Let Him Go isn’t going to have gone under the knife in 1963. Just leave it alone.’

Manville grew up in Brighton, where her father was a taxi driver, and at the age of 15 she started commuting to the Italia Conti stage school in London. She declined the chance to join the steamy TV dance troupe Hot Gossip. ‘I thought, I can’t wear stockings and a suspender belt on telly with my dad watching! He wasn’t a prude – it was more that I was a bit of a prude. I was a good girl. I never broke the rules.’

Just like Cathy in Mum, then? ‘I am a good girl at heart, so there is a bit of Cathy there, but the other side of me is very driven and single-minded.’

Her father couldn’t believe it when she gave up a perfectly good, lucrative part on the soap Emmerdale Farm to concentrate on theatre. ‘My dad was like, “What are you doing? Why would you want to do plays?”’ But Manville went on to have a truly illustrious and highly acclaimed career on stage, from her early days at the Royal Court through numerous leading roles at the National Theatre, The Old Vic and with the Royal Shakespeare Company to her performance in Ibsen’s Ghosts, for which she won the Olivier in 2014. This was the pinnacle of her career at the time, and she said: ‘Ghosts is my Olympic moment.’

There was no way of knowing that the Hollywood legend Paul Thomas Anderson, director of There Will Be Blood and Magnolia, would call her out of the blue, having seen her in the Mike Leigh films he loved.

But before that happened and she got really famous, the director Richard Laxton approached Manville in 2016 about making Mum, and had some persuading to do.

‘My only experience of comedy was 25 years ago, a series called Ain’t Misbehavin’ with Peter Davison,’ says Manville. ‘It was well written, but you had to be funny. I didn’t enjoy it. I wasn’t very good.’

Laxton sent a script and a box set of Him And Her, a series also written by Mum creator Stefan Golaszewski and shot in a very similar, low-key way. The actors play the drama and not for laughs, although they certainly come. In Mum, we see the craziness of the family from Cathy’s point of view as she tries to keep going, do her best and be kind.

‘Just the slightest twinkle from Cathy, and the audience knows what it’s going to mean,’ says Manville.

Series one began just after Cathy had lost her husband Dave. Series two saw her become increasingly – but very slowly – close to old family friend Michael, before she finally declared her love. Now, at the start of the final series, they are together, but haven’t broken it to her son or anyone else yet. ‘I love the way the writer does that,’ she says. ‘We last saw them tentatively holding hands. At the start of this series she just gives him a very casual kiss on the lips, when she’s showing him the bedroom she is staying in.’

The inference is that they have made love. ‘You don’t see them having sex. You don’t see them having passionate kisses.’ Is that a relief? ‘Yes. You wouldn’t want to go there really, but I knew they were going to get together.’ The pair have such joy on their faces, as if they can’t believe their luck.

‘I think younger people – 20- and 30-year-olds – don’t think of anybody aged 60 falling in love. They don’t really imagine that all those feelings an 18-year-old in love has – all those butterflies, uncertainties and insecurities, all that joy – is the same for everyone, whatever your age. That’s an emotion and a set of feelings that we never lose. Thank God! I love Mum for showing that.’

The characters are also very understated. ‘I love the fact that Cathy and Michael are not glamorous, they’re not thinking about how they look. They’re good, kind, thoughtful people. They’re intelligent. They’re very in touch with their own feelings and emotions and reality. They have a very acute understanding of the people around them.’ The cast and crew all stayed in the same hotel and found a local pub to eat and drink. ‘Lots of times, someone would spot one of us up at the bar – say Lisa [McGrillis, who plays Kelly] – and they’d go: “That’s her from Mum!” Then they’d turn around to see where she was taking the drinks and we would all be sitting there!’

How are people with her? ‘Mum is the thing I get stopped in the street most about. They say very kind things. They love the series. When I say it’s back in May but this is the last series, they can’t bear it.’

So why is Mum finishing? ‘Stefan wants to move on to other things. But it’s got a nice finite ending and why would you do any more? Either they get together or they don’t. Either way, that’s it.’ We don’t see so-called late love like this on the television much, do we?

‘No, but I think that’s shifting very slowly. Women and men of my age want to see themselves represented. And there are those actresses who are just carrying on – not just Judi Dench and Maggie Smith, but Helen Mirren, Meryl Streep, Annette Bening.... We are fronting films. And all those female-led films like Mamma Mia!, Quartet and The Best Marigold Hotel that have been huge box- office successes have made studios think: ‘We can have a film about a 50-year-old that people want to see!’

She says ‘we’, but those women are older than her. Thanks to her sudden Indian summer, Manville is now poised to lead a new generation of female actors taking on those kinds of roles. ‘Those actors have opened up the way for us, absolutely. I’ve always felt my life was a slow burn. I’m pleased with the way it has all turned out. Delighted, really. I can’t wait to see what happens next!’

The final series 3 of ‘Mum’ begins on BBC 2 next month. Series 1 and 2 are available on iPlayer.

#Lesley Manville #Event Magazine #Mum #Mum bbc #BBC2 #aaaaahhh #new photos!#bbc mum #series 3

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