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wilbursoot-updates · 3 months

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Lovejoy, The Twisted New British Boy Band

Wilbur is mentioned in this article!

It was a December night, and as finals’ hush fell across campus, we fled north to the Aragon Ballroom for their Twisted Xmas. Little did we know just how sick and twisted it would be. (Although there was no punk-Christmas music played, thank God). We went for Lovejoy, an up-and-coming band in the pop-punk scene whom we had found by misremembering the name of Grouplove.

Under the Ballroom’s eaves, nestled in a crowd of teenage girls and their mothers, we caught sight of a woman’s lock screen next to me: “I’m nothing without you” scrawled in gothic handwriting. We weren’t sure what we had gotten ourselves into. Were we joining some kind of cult? Something that might continue to fill us with stories and motivation long after the concert, long after the holidays, through this winter and into the coming years? Then, lead singer Wilbur Soot, a teenage girl’s dream, stepped on stage with tousled hair. His toothy smile put me at ease and his mellifluous British accent calmed and enthralled us as the music came on.

While Soot was the center of the show, what’s a boy band without its boys? Bassist Ash Kabosu stood to Soot’s left, rocking shoulder-length hair and dark shades, in front of drummer Mark Boardman. Lead guitarist Joe Goldsmith flanked Soot to his right, performing in front of Alan Osmundson, the band’s touring trumpeter and keyboard player (who’s also an MIT Aerospace Engineering grad).

Lovejoy opened with a rolling drum beat, a groovy bass line, and an upbeat guitar melody. “Concrete” displayed all their charms. Soot counted his friends into the jam session before recalling a perhaps-fictional night out at 3 a.m. Someone, barely described, is making quite a commotion over Soot’s late-night kiss, enough that both our charming British boy and the bar’s bouncer is upset. Is this just a jealous fan? A long-term girlfriend? Someone a little too invested in that lovely accent? Soot recommends they “sleep on the concrete.” This tall, lanky boy, thin enough to be blown over by a small gust of wind, has a naughty streak in him! Soot’s music plays into emo and punk tendencies, writing about the dark sides of relationships and fighting the system, yet nastiness also comes from within him, giving him power and control.

And yet, somehow all the twisting only adds to this British boy’s allure. Soot’s songwriting is unconventional. It does not hold individual lines of lyrics like many other artists but instead rambles like prose, where one line is only understood by the context of the three lines before and after. With every song, the band publishes a short story. These short stories are just as much musical and emotional as they are lyrical. You would be forgiven for not knowing the names of “Concrete” or “It’s Golden Hour Somewhere” while they played. The refrains are so much less punctuated in his style, and it is hard to hear Soot sing those words over the sound of the entire crowd. Those of us at the concert experienced his stories collectively, uniting in these twisted and tousled emotions. Maybe this is a cult. We chose to join it by buying a hoodie, and they rewarded us with a trading card. What a great souvenir for my night with Wilbur the Hero.

#lovejoy #wilbur soot #posting this here so everyone can read this insane article #articles

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februarybluues · 10 months

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idk if this is where I put requests I'm new to Tumblr 😭 but like I had an idea 🤓☝🏾can you write a story where the reader takes hobie roller skating and has to teach him because he's so horrible at it pleaseee

-M

i love this idea so much u have no idea . really hope i did it justice.

Roller-date.

warnings: cursing, gn reader, awful british, clumsy ass hobie

look at him guys omg he's so drools

Although he insisted that he’d rather spend time with you at his house, you weren’t listening. You had your eye on the new roller-skating rink that opened up recently and you instantly knew you wanted to go. He was very much against the idea at first; ‘Capitalistic ideations’ and what-not. “We can just get our own skates ‘n go ‘round town. We don’t need’a spend money.”, he’d say, but you countered with “It’ll be fun! Don’t you want to spend quality time together? It’ll be like a fun roller-date!” you smiled at him, and he found himself sighing with defeat. How could he possibly say no to you? “Fine. Just this once.”

And that’s how he ended up here; sitting down next to you on a bench - inside the rink, bright pink roller skates in his hands. “You sure they didn’t ‘ave any other colours?” he asked you, looking down to see you tying the laces on your skates – which matched his. “Nope. But, it’s too late now!” you giggled, and he groaned; definitely regretting his agreement to come in the first place, but at least you were happy. Once you finished putting your rollerskates on, you looked back to him and smiled. You quickly made eye contact, as he had admittedly been staring at you the entire time. “Are you gonna tie your laces or do you need me to do that for you?” you teased, effectively snapping him out of his thoughts. He rolled his eyes at you, before tying his laces. It was hilarious; his punk style clashed with the bright pink roller skates in a way that made you struggle to contain your laughter. “What’s so funny?” he asked you. You cleared your throat. “Nothing.” you muttered, still staring at his skates. You didn’t see the small smile plastered on his face. “Come on then.” he said, and you finally looked back up at him. “You ready?” you asked him, and he nodded. You stood up; careful to not fall over. He stayed on the bench, which made you quirk your eyebrow at him, confused. “Hobe? Are you alright?” you asked him, taking note of how he awkwardly sat there. He nodded at you; the once cocky smirk on his face was replaced with a subtle look of embarrassment. But he played it off well. “Fine. ‘M fine.” he said. “Then come on. Let’s get in the rink!” you smiled, and he scrambled to get up. At first, he opted for the ‘no-hands approach’; Attempting to stand up without his hands, to impress you. – which failed horribly. He slipped and landed back on the bench. Then, he tried to hold onto the arm of the bench to pull him up. It worked for a bit, but just as he finally stood up, his knees shook and he lost his balance, falling back onto the bench. You laughed quietly at his struggling, amused at the scene in front of you. “Hobie, can you not skate?” you asked him, genuinely. “Maybe I can’t. So what?” he didn’t look at you as he spoke. His lips were pouted and his brows were crossed with subtle anger and maybe a slight bit of embarrassment. You laughed, the situation was now making much more sense. The reason he didn’t want to skate was because he didn’t know how to! He scoffed at you, crossing his arms like an angry toddler. “I’m sorry- here.” you tried to stop laughing, and held your hand out to him, pulling him up as he grabbed onto it. It took him a minute to get his balance, but once he did he felt like the king of the world. “Want me to teach you how to skate?” you offered, smiling sweetly. “I’d love tha', doll.” he raised your hand to his lips and pressed a small kiss to it. “Firstly, let’s get in the rink.” you stated, slowly beginning to step towards it. A hand latched onto your arm before you could do so. “Wait! Don’t jus’ leave me ‘ere!” he all-but-shouted, clinging onto your arm. You laughed again at that. “Here. Just take tiny steps. Sort of like waddling- like a penguin.” you instructed, before demonstrating it to him. He copied your movements, before tripping over his own feet. You caught him before he hit the ground, pulling him back up. “Be patient with it. It’s not a race.” you said, slowly shuffling once again. After a while, he seemed to get the hang of things. And finally, you reached the rink. “Okay, this is going to be a lot slippier than the carpet, so be careful.” you warned him, before stepping into the rink. He nodded, slowly shuffling in. You were right. It was a lot more difficult to keep his balance, and he stumbled around quite a lot. - almost falling more than once. But eventually he did regain his balance. “This is easy.” he commented, growing a lot more confident. You let out a small laugh, before warning him again. “Don’t get too cocky. You’re gonna end up jinxing yourself.” He didn’t listen, holding onto the wall of the rink and using it to hold himself up.

You moved around, skating in semi-circles around him. He just looked at you as if you were a professional. “‘How are you doin’ tha’?” he asked. “Oh it’s easy! You just gotta push with your legs. - not too hard. But gently just push.” You instructed, giving him a demonstration as you spoke. You slowly skated around him, and he took multiple mental notes on what you were doing. The place wasn’t crowded, but it definitely wasn’t empty. There were a decent amount of people around the both of you. “Did that make sense?” you stopped in front of him. He nodded. “Like this?” he pushed his left foot backwards, and very slowly inched forward; still clinging onto the wall for dear life. “Uhh.. you’re getting there?” he scoffed at you. “Knew this was a bad idea.” he muttered almost inaudibly, but you heard it. “Hey! Once you get the hang of things I’m sure it’ll be fun. Stop being so negative.” you pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he playfully rolled his eyes.

You spent a while giving him a bunch of pointers and tips on how to skate, how to stop, and all of the basics. He just looked so lost the entire time. He listened intently, and asked some questions – which was very unlike him. When you commented on his sudden change in behaviour, he responded with “Jus’ wanna make sure you ‘ave fun. Teachin’ me all this isn’t all tha’ delightful, eh?” it was sweet of him, and it truly made your heart smile.

After around 20 minutes, you spoke up. “That’s pretty much all you need to know. Are you ready to try it out properly now?” “Prepare to be amazed,” he said, and you laughed. “By all means, show me what you’ve got.” he obliged, skating impressively well considering he had only learned moments ago. You applauded him, clapping your hands dramatically. “But can you let go of the wall this time?” he muttered something, sounding slightly hesitant. “O’course i can let go o’the bloody wall.” it was quiet, and you almost missed it. He slowly let go and held both arms out to stabilise himself. And then, he did it. He started to skate without the help of the wall. You felt like a proud mentor, quickly following behind him as he kept going. “Look at you go!” You smiled, and he looked at you with a cocky smile.

You did a few laps around the rink, hand-in-hand. His hand was squeezing yours with subtle uncertainty, and you gave him a small squeeze of reassurance. “You’re doing great.” “Oh ‘ell yeah. Bloody professional I am, yeah?” you chuckled, “The best of the best.”

He was doing great. He was a lot more confident than when he had started and had picked up the pace. But, he was almost too confident. “Watch this,” he said, before speeding up drastically and attempting to spin. But, about halfway through his attempt at spinning, he tripped over his own feet and landed on the cold ground. Understandably, you burst out into laughter at the situation. You couldn’t help yourself, okay? After a while, you crouched down next to him, carefully. “Are you okay?” you asked, and he looked away from you, embarrassed. “Meant to do that.” he excused himself, and you giggled. “Sure you did.” You then noticed the small rip in the knee of his jeans. This rip was not intentional, and you could see a small graze peaking through the fabric. “Baby, your knee.” you said, your hands moving to assess the injury. He swatted them away before you could see it properly. “Hey, hey. ’m fine. “ he said, but you ignored him, immediately moving your hands back to his knee. You moved the ripped fabric around so that you could see the injury. “Looks like a bit of rug burn. Poor thing.” you said, acknowledging how he subtly winced at your thumb grazing over it. “Jus’ a scratch. Like i said, ‘m fine. Dealt with worse.” “Are you sure? Does your ass hurt from falling on it?” you teased, laughing at your own words. “‘S not tha’ funny.” he murmured. “Oh come on. You have to admit it’s a bit funny.” “ Fine. Maybe jus’ a bit.” he admitted and you smiled, before standing up and holding your hand out to him.

“Let’s see if they have any plasters at the front desk.”

omg heyyyy... so like, ive been wanting to make a normal taglist for all of my fics (not including series' tho they have separate taglists) so like lmk if you wanna be added pookie x

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