#jimbo the worm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rocicrew · 1 year

Note

“a lingering kiss before/after a long trip apart” for holden/amos 🥺 maybe a drabble or something!

kissing prompts

Holden was acting jittery.

That wasn’t anything new. Hell, it was closer to his natural state than calm Holden was. But it also meant he probably wanted to say something and didn’t know how to say it, or found something new to stress about and was tearing himself up for it. Amos had no clue why he’d put himself through that. But then again, there were many things that others did and he didn’t understand.

“Just spit it out, Cap,” he said when he finally got enough of Holden pacing up and down the galley.

A part of him hoped that this whole thing didn’t involve him changing his mind about Clarissa. Hoped. Shit, that was new.

At least, that’d pulled him out of it. But he, still, wouldn't say what he was thinking. He was avoiding eye contact, which wasn't as usual with them, and it bothered Amos how he couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing.

When Holden, finally, did speak, his voice came out shaky. “When the rocks hit Earth, I knew logically if there was anyone that would survive it’d be you,” he exhaled sharply and only now, dared to look him in the eyes. “But every day that passed without contact, not knowing if you are dead or alive…”

Amos wasn't entirely sure why Holden was putting himself through this. Things had sucked, and being away from the crew had affected him more than he could have imagined but it was over. They were back. Most of them, anyway. There was no point in digging into those painful memories.

Although, he'd learned a while back that it was better to let Cap talk it out. It wouldn't be the first time he freaked out over Amos nearly dying. So, he listened.

“I tried to push it aside because there were a million other things to worry about and I couldn't do anything about it. But seeing you again brought it all back and,” he cut himself off like it was hard to say. The look Holden gave him reminded him of Ilus. Desperate and pained and Amos wanted to wipe it off his face immediately.

“I don't know what I'd fucking do if I lost you.”

As soon as Holden said the words, he grimaced because he felt like an asshole. Alex's death felt like a cave inside him, but even the thought of losing Amos or Naomi made it near impossible to breathe. Losing them would be like losing parts of himself. And the guilt for even feeling that made the cave bigger.

Now he didn't have the distraction of the protomolecule he was chasing all the time they were apart. And every feeling he'd tried, as much as he could, not to feel all this time apart, came rushing to him all at once.

It was overwhelming.

The lump in his throat had returned and kept growing inside and he feared it'd slowly swallow him whole.

The hand on his shoulder nearly startled him. He hadn't noticed when Amos had crossed the distance between. But the touch was enough to ground him some.

“You won't lose me, Jim. 've told you before, I'm the last man standing."

Jim. That only ever came up if either of them were about to die. Or if Amos wanted to please him.

“You almost never call me that," Holden argued weakly, betting it was the latter and trying not to focus on everything he spilled out prior.

He still felt his heart nearly beating out of his chest, but instead of the loss and helplessness, he tried focusing on Amos' steady presence. On the way his muscles flexed when he touched him, the short distance between their bodies, and his intense blue eyes that searched every inch of his face.

The exact moment his gaze briefly lowered to his lips.

Suddenly, Holden leaped forward, crushing his lips against Amos in a desperate manner. He could've died. Amos could've died and Holden could've lost him.

The fragility of it all, always hit harder in the moments before. This was the first time he felt so frantic after.

Amos reciprocated, pulling him flush against him and kissing him with the same intensity.

Moment by moment his anxiety faded with Amos's tight hold on him. The grip on his shirt and hip was nearly tight enough to hurt, his steady torso against Holden's, and the feeling of those soft lips he loved so much against his, grounded him like nothing else.

Every time he felt like he was about to float away, Amos grounded him better than mag boots. He didn't know if it was the fact they were both from Earth that did it. It's not like they had similar life experiences anyway. So Holden was inclined to think it was just who the mechanic was.

His best friend, his rock, his… lover.

Funny how he'd describe Naomi the same way. He needed all of them like he needed air.

The part of his heart that belonged to Naomi had come back weeks ago. The other that Amos had, was just now returning after all that separation. Brought back by their closeness.

His lips lingered, catching up on all the contact they'd been missing. It wasn't like their usual ones. Sure they'd kissed desperately and passionately before, but they'd been fast, hungry kisses chasing their need to touch each other.

Now that the desperation had faded, it seemed like neither of them wanted to pull back and be separated from each other again. That was new, and Holden wanted to take advantage of every second of it.

His arms wrapped around Amos's shoulders in a last attempt to prolong their touch and the contact was burned into his brain. Amos was here, alive, home. Not everything was lost. He could breathe again.

When they eventually pulled back, Holden's eyes took a minute to flutter open.

“I'm right here,” Amos said softly, patting Holden's side. He took it as a sign to pull back from the embrace. They'd already been holding on to each other longer than Holden expected, anyway.

“Welcome back,” Holden breathed out, this time laughter shaking his voice instead of anxiety, almost as if he said something ridiculous and the sanest thing he'd ever uttered at the same time.

#the expanse #james holden #amos burton #jamos #rip i'm still trying to find their voice but gOD THEY #jimbo is just a little guy madly in love with his family #mine : fics.#almost went with post tiamat's wrath but i was Not ready to open that can of worms so post ng / s5 it is

15 notes · View notes

gaykarstaagforever · 2 months

Text

...Well, at least he didn't sigh and play a ukulele.

1) "...Assuming we believe any of this." Append that to everything I say here. I don't believe a word this guy says. He comes across as chronically narcissistic and making excuses for inexcusable behavior. Even when he admits that, it feels like he is ONLY doing that to worm out of the consequences of getting called out for it. He is still just doing damage control, so he can regain his channel and avoid getting a real job. Trust me, I'm a narcissistic asshole, too. We can smell each-other. Like bears. This whole thing is just disingenuous.

I don't even believe his personal stuff. I want receipts for his diagnoses and family turmoil. Is that fair? No. But how else can we trust him at this point? It is what it is, because of what he did.

2) As he says, personal problems and having dreams aren't excuses for lying, cheating, and grifting. Yet he did all those...and is still kind of trying to score sympathy for why he "felt the need" to do them.

Giving an explanation is one thing. But that isn't what this feels like. Maybe I'm being a biased dick here. But I smell more grift. It just feels like he's gunning for sympathy to wiggle out of his whole YouTube career collapsing.

3) No one gives a shit about your boiler-plate liberal guilt identity issue bullshit, Jimbo. You got in trouble for stealing. No one cares why, see #1. It absolutely doesn't matter. You don't get a pass for stealing because you're gay and white and sad about it. That is a shameful thing to drop here. Asshole.

4) The movie grift thing was STILL a grift, regardless of your intentions. Moral failures are an assessment of actions, not motives. It doesn't matter the circumstances: you got paid to do something you didn't do, and kept the money. That's a grift. And the grift is the problem.

5) Hbomberguy doesn't need your money or your apologies. Neither does the international gay community. Your sins were against specific people. You claim you are dealing with that directly. I hope so. But that is exactly all you need to deal with to atone for this. Stop acting like a wounded god trying to save the world from your stumble. We're good out here. This was your personal fuck-up, in relation to specific people. Cut the narcissistic crap and focus on that.

6) ...If you can. This guy might be helpless against his own inflated sense of self-importance. Narcissists have that problem. I don't know how you deal with that, if this whole mess wasn't enough to compel you. ...But that also isn't an excuse to get away with shit behavior, so fuck you either way, honestly.

7) He said he is going to make content free from his previous garbage, and give the money away. Yeah sure, dude. I'll believe it when you prove it. It means literally nothing otherwise.

8) Stop exposing your personal shit online. This has always been a problem with you. It just comes across as a plea for an excuse to be a dick. There is connecting to an empathetic audience, and then there is trying to cash in expensive sad gay chips you think you have. Knock it off. We don't like or trust you, so we do not care about YOU. If you want to regain trust with good content, shut up and do that. Otherwise, just shut up. We don't need you here, bellyaching for attention.

9) You didn't even MENTION Todd in the Shadows?! A shoutout at least, dude!

...I realize that is petty of me. But still.

10) I want to point out again that James Somerton was never King of the Gays. He seems to think he was, and he dropped his crown. That isn't a thing. And we aren't desperate for you to pick up the thing you never had to drop. There is that raging narcissism again. Very off-putting.

#james somerton #hbomberguy #youtube #gay #plagiarism

22 notes · View notes

pcstan · 1 year

Note

hwelo

would you mind sharing some Shelly Headcanons you have if youd like i amstarved of content for her

I WOULD LOVE TOO!! I can talk about her,, all day,,. Here's just a few of the headcanons I have of her!

1-) First one is half of a headcanon and half canon that's not used nearly enough in content about her. In the 'Royal Wedding' episode Stan mentions that Shelly is canonically a den leader for girl scouts which is usually a job that goes to adults or at least older teens so I imagine she's actually much more active and mature than what she's portrayed as. She's definitely still very short tempered and aggressive but I imagine it's more controlled outside of her home life where she doesn't have to be sorrounded by a neglectful family and a "golden child" brother.

2-) Much like Stan doesn't correct their grandpa when he calls him "Billy", Shelly doesn't correct him when he forgets how old she is. She actually likes the attention she gets by grandpa for being the youngest of the family although she'd never admit it cuz she doesn't want to sound childish.

3-) One the topic of family, since she has no on-screen interactions with Jimbo I can just make them all up myself and I do believe he's taken her hunting at least once and told her all about his favorite guns in his shop.

4-) She still listens to Lorde even after the big reveal, just in secret.

5-) She definitely hangs out with Cartman still and he usually finds out stuff about her way before her family does.

6-) A big reason that she has self esteem issues other than her headgear is because although he has Sharon's hair color and eye color she definitely looks more like Randy's child.

7-) She's definitely told Wendy to break up with Stan at least 3 times till Stan stopped bringing her to his house.

8_) She's bipolar and inhereted the disorder genetically (projecting...). It's where her intense anger issues stem from. (She 100% gets it from Randy but he's undiagnosed.)

9-) I headcanon that she cuts her own hair especially when she's frustrated or angry and that she started doing it when she was fairly young, at around 5. Probably started when baby Stan got way more attention that her. I tie this to my headcanon of her being bipolar and exhibiting signs of it–especially anger issues—at a very young age.

10-) As she gets older she gets more extroverted but not in a very healthy way <\3. Much like Stan and Randy she has a very addictive personality but unlike them she strictly refuses to get into smoking or drinking (or even gambling like Marvin). She thinks this will keep her safe but she starts getting addicted to the attention she gets from being more manic and roudy. Bad attention and good attention are both fine for her, especially if it comes from her parents.

11-) She loves gummy worms but because she's fucking weird she slurps them instead of bitting into them. Yep. Immediately swallows them. Fucking weirdo. I mean I guess it helps with keeping her braces in check but still fucking weird.

12-) She likes them ugly ass crusty white dogs.

13-) She has so many ugly ass printed shirts. A collector with the most exquisite taste in garbage.

#I have so many more these are just off the top of my head #I'm sorry some of these are angsty I just need to talk about her sad parts too #ALSO IF YALL HAVE ANY HCS ABOUT HER #Please tell me I'd love to know #You can even message me directly idc I'm ALWAYS open to talking about south park and procrastinating on home work #shelly marsh

20 notes · View notes

batmanisagatewaydrug · 2 years

Text

1x14 is one of the better Gotham episodes and I can't help that suspect that it's because Jim is barely in it. mostly just Oswald being a worm, Ed being unaccountably cute, and Harvey grilling Jimbo about his sex life with a level of interest that may raise eyebrows in polite company.

#gotham time

111 notes · View notes

falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand · 2 years

Text

Day 6: Damnation/Redemption

For Arcane Order Week by @arcaneorderweek

“so,” jim regarded the bound god before him. “do we need to feed you or something? nari doesn't need to eat but… do you? oh- i know- you want some socks? they're argyle…!”

he waved a sock in front of them, and they hissed at him, snapping their teeth.

he took it to mean they weren't hungry.

“your loss,” he shrugged.

“how about a nugget nummy?” toby offered, digging a candy out of his backpack, “i betcha you wouldn't feel so world-destroy-y after a delectable sugary snack!”

bellroc stared at him.

“are you an idiot?” they snarled, enunciating each word with sharp malice.

“hey, don't call h-”

bellroc scoffed, “i see you still have myrddin’s worms in your ears, boy.”

“actually, not siding with the evil wizards trying to destroy the world was a bit of a no brainer, believe it or not.”

bellroc jerked forward and jim flinched back despite himself. they pressed against their bonds, a slightly wild look in their eyes- and oh, jim was really glad they'd figured out the anti-magic beam.

“destroy? child, we are this world.” the bonds around them crushed their feather cloak to their body- but they were still larger than any human he'd ever seen, “and myrddin didn't even tell you what we are…?”

“hey- leave him alone!” toby interjected, stepping between them, hand on the hilt of his warhammer. bellroc gave it an unimpressed glance.

jim sighed, “i admit, merlin was… questionable sometimes-”

toby and bellroc snorted in unison- then gave each other a perturbed look.

“but,” jim forged on, “he fought for the greater good- and everything he did was to protect humanity-”

“myrddin was a selfish child who never cared for anything but his glory- he lied and stole, bowed at the feet of any king who'd lend his ear and power, and you, boy, are the ultimate testament to his carelessness- do you not see how he discarded you?” bellroc’s eyes blazed, and their voice was a bright hiss, “you battled for his honor, warped yourself at his command, and after all your sacrifice- look where you are! still clinging to his skirts, unseeing of his blatant deceptions-”

“jimbo, let's just go.”

jim gritted his teeth, “someone needs to watch them.”

“then we'll get someone- but i don't want you to deal with them right now, they're trying to mess with your head.”

“i need no keeper, i am not a child.” bellroc growled, “however you insist to scold me as one. scold and damn us for doing what we must-”

the door slammed.

“has nari even told you?”, their voices echoed down the hall, unheard.

#yes bellroc is shamelessly manipulating jim but- nothing they say is quite untrue 🤷‍♀️#also i'm counting this bc of bellroc's line abt them damning them #arcaneorderweek2022 #bellroc keeper of the flame #james lake jr #tobias domzalski #kiwifae writes #honestly bellroc deserves this rant- they've had a long few centuries

17 notes · View notes

therealgamble · 1 year

Note

35. What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?

"Ok seriously - who asks that? The smallest? Isn't that like the most boring answer? And who's going to be the judge of the shitty things I've done and go - oh yeah, that's the least shitty, that's a good one." He laughs loudly and shakes his head, completely blindsided by the odd question.

"Ok - I saw a wormhole in the side of Jimbo's apple and I just sat there and watched him eat the whole thing. Totally expected he'd find the worm and freak out, but no, he just ate it. I guess he likes the taste of worms." He shrugs. "Is that boring enough?"

#meme reply #brooklynislandgirl #I don't know why this question made me laugh so hard

4 notes · View notes

fear-before-valor · 4 years

Note

((👀 options on changelings (sorry I didn’t get a chance to finish that last ask)))

"My opinion on changelings as a whole? I mean... I know three... And while two of them have tried to kill me multiple times, and another almost let my friends get killed... They all came through for me. And, even better they came through for the world, when it needed them. None of them were evil.

I know everybody says they're bad but... That hasn't been my experience, honestly?

So, uh, I think changelings are pretty alright. I mean, didn't we always hear as kids not to judge someone based on something they can't control, like the circumstances of their birth? It seems a little rude to assume that all changelings are the same, right?"

"...Plus, Strickler kinda means a lot to m- ...my mom."

#// ohhhhh jimbo #// what were you gonna say at the end there bud?#ask #ask madam ruby #human 2.0: pre movie #// methinks he accepts having a second dad hmmmm?#// also i cant remember if otto and jim ever met so i assumed not? cause his main involvement was when jim was in the daklands #*darklands #// also didnt include the one he killed bc oof that's a whole other can of worms

9 notes · View notes

luna--dragon · 4 years

Text

Guys

I got a

WORM

I'm calling him Toby! :D

#worm on a string #wormy boi #worm #orange worm #ffs luna #yes that is a trollhunters reference #my friends also getting me a blue one #so jimbo will soon join the chat!#(might even buy a purple one too)

22 notes · View notes

sillyshelterdogs · 3 years

Text

Jimbo aka Jimbob

Beagle |M| Shawnee Mission, KS

"Meet Jimbo or Jim bob. He is a 2-3 year old male beagle who was rescued from southern Missouri. We don't know much about Jimbo's history. He has spend several months at his foster's home being treated for heart worm. He is fully recovered and ready for his forever home. He was a little stand-offish, but still friendly, when he first came live with his fosters. His fosters parents believe he wasn't feeling well from his heart worm. Since his recovery, Jimbo is very personable and much more of a snuggler. In fact, it could be said that he is a champion snuggler.

Jimbo is a talker with a beagle bark. He loves to take walks. He does well around other dogs. He doesn't like being kenneled. We don't know how he is around small children or cats. He is housebroken. He is full beagle and will run off, following his nose if he gets off leash or escapes a fenced in yard. Ask his fosters how they know this. Jimbo spends his nights on a dog bed on the floor or on the couch."

#shelter dog #rescue dog #mixed breed #petfinder #dog #beagle #kansas

71 notes · View notes

gen-z-in-a-nutshell · 4 years

Text

last February someone bought about 500 worms on a string and was distributing handfuls of them. Worm on a string fuzz littered the hallways. People formed clans based on the color worm they had and I witnessed at least one fight break out. Worm on a string fan art adorned the bathroom stalls and stairway railings. I saw several funerals for those poor worms whose fur piled up in corners and blew across the courtyard. My own worm, an orange one named Jimbo, lies tangled up in my raincoat pocket. His string fell off months ago. Jimbo and lie in wait for the day school shall open its cursed doors once more so we can assert our dominance to those fools who have lost their worms.

we sit. we wait. the time shall come one day.

#i miss school but only because of the chaos #gen z memes

144 notes · View notes

chiseler · 3 years

Text

The House of D

As one of his final acts in office, Mayor Jimmy Walker broke ground in 1932 for the New York City House of Detention for Women, built on the site of the old Jefferson Market jail in Greenwich Village and colloquially known as the House of D. According to sociologist Sara Harris’ Hellhole (on John Waters’ list of recommended reading), It was intended as a model of prison reform. Opened in 1934, the twelve-story monolith of brownish brick with art deco flourishes loomed behind the old Jefferson Market courthouse on Sixth Avenue, looking more like a stylish if somewhat cheerless apartment building than a prison. Windows were meshed instead of barred, and the one sign on its exterior merely gave the address, “Number Ten Greenwich Avenue.” There were toilets and hot and cold running water in all four hundred cells, and it was going to focus on rehabilitating its inmates – prostitutes, vagrants, alcoholics and/or drug addicts – rather than merely punishing them. From the start the reality was at variance with the intentions, and the facility quickly became infamous as a combination of Bedlam and Bastille. Within a decade it was chronically overcrowded with a volatile mix of inmates: women who couldn’t make bail awaiting trials that were sometimes months off, women already convicted and serving time, alcoholics and addicts, the mentally ill, violent lesbian tops, street gang girls, hookers and other lifelong multiple offenders, and teenagers spending their first nights behind bars. Tougher, more experienced prisoners brutalized and sexually assaulted the weak and inexperienced. So, of course, did the staff. The halls rang with the howls of inmates suffering the agonies of drug or alcohol withdrawal. There were cockroaches and mice in the cells and worms in the food. Village lesbians called it the Country Club and the Snake Pit. The IWW organizer Elizabeth Gurley Flynn did time in the House of D, as did accused spy Ethel Rosenberg and Warhol shooter Valerie Solanas. In 1957, Dorothy Day, founder of the Catholic Worker movement, spent thirty days there for staying on the street during a civil defense air raid drill. Her ban-the-bomb supporters picketed outside every day from noon to two; the Times called them “possibly the most peaceful pickets in the city.”

Despite its bland exterior, the House of D made its presence very known in the neighborhood through the daily ritual of inmates yelling out the windows or down from the exercise area on the roof to the boyfriends, girlfriends, dealers and pimps perpetually loitering on the Greenwich Avenue sidewalk – a carnivalesque Village tradition for almost forty years. Waters first caught the spectacle in the early 1960s. “It was amazing. No one can ever imagine what that was like. All the hookers would be screaming out the windows, ‘Hey Jimbo!’ And all the pimps would be down on the sidewalk yelling stuff.” Writer and film producer Jeremiah Newton initially encountered it at around the same time. “It was this huge, monolithic building, looking like the building the Morlocks dragged the Time Machine into, and the girls were always yelling down, screaming obscenities and throwing things out the window. It was the biggest building there. I sat on a stoop watching the people walk by. I’d never seen anything quite like it before.” The Village writer Grace Paley lived near the facility in the 1950s and 1960s, and walked her kids past it regularly. She wrote that “we would often have to thread our way through whole families calling up – bellowing, screaming up to the third, seventh, tenth floor, to figures, shadows behind bars and screened windows, How you feeling? Here’s Glena. She got big. Mami mami, you like my dress? We gettin you out baby. New lawyer come by.”

Women arrested at antiwar rallies during the Vietnam era found themselves locked up in the House of D with the hookers, junkies, crazies and butch lesbians. On Saturday, February 20 1965, two eighteen-year-old college students, Lisa Goldrosen of Bard and Andrea Dworkin of Bennington, were arrested during an antiwar protest at the UN and sent to the House of D. There, they later testified, they were brutally mistreated and humiliated by male doctors “examining” them for venereal diseases, and forced constantly to fend off the rough advances of other inmates. They were not allowed to use a telephone until Monday. That March, the New York Post ran an exposé based on their testimony. They didn’t experience anything other women hadn’t for thirty years by then, but in the 1960s those other inmates were overwhelmingly poor black and Hispanic women. Dworkin and Goldrosen were white, middle-class college coeds. As so often happens, that’s what it took to generate public outrage.

When Grace Paley herself was arrested at another war protest some months later, she was detained in the facility. Conditions had slightly improved in light of the outcry the Post had stirred up. Paley had been arrested before at antiwar protests, but it had always resulted in at worst overnight stays. This time a judge threw the book at her and gave her six days. “He thought I was old enough to know better,” she later wrote, “a forty-five year old woman, a mother and teacher. I ought to be too busy to waste time on causes I couldn’t possibly understand.” At least she could look out her cell window and watch her kids walking to school.

In October 1970, Angela Davis was arrested in the Howard Johnson Motor Lodge at Eighth Avenue and Fifty-First Street and taken to the House of D. It was not her first time in Greenwich Village. She was born in 1944 in Birmingham, Alabama, where her father was a car mechanic and her mother was a teacher and a civil rights activist. They lived in a black neighborhood called Dynamite Hill because the Klan had firebombed so many homes there. With help from the American Friends, she and her mother moved to New York, where her mother studied for her Masters at NYU while Angela attended Elisabeth Irwin High School in the Village. She went on to study philosophy at Brandeis, the Sorbonne, and at the University of California, earning her Ph.D. One of her teachers was Herbert Marcuse. By the late 1960s she was an avowed Communist, a member of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee and affiliated with the Black Panthers. She lectured in philosophy at UCLA until 1969, when her Communist and radical affiliations got her fired.

In August of 1970 a black teen named Jonathan Jackson took over a Marin County courtroom and demanded the release of his older brother, Panther member George Jackson, from nearby Soledad prison. He took the judge, the district attorney and three jurors hostage. In the attempted getaway, Jackson, the judge and one other person were shot and killed. When police discovered that Davis, who knew George Jackson, was the registered owner of Jonathan’s weapon, she was charged as an accomplice to murder, a capital crime in California. She fled the state, which put her on the FBI’s most wanted list. A beautiful twenty-six-year-old with a huge and magnificent Afro, she became a global pop star of the revolution a la Che Guevara. When the FBI arrested her she’d spent a few days walking openly in Times Square, unrecognized because she’d slicked down the Afro and dressed like an office worker.

Within thirty minutes of her being locked up in the House of D a crowd of protesters began to gather outside the monolith, chanting; prisoners stood in their windows and chanted along, their fists raised. The NYPD sent a Tactical Defense Force unit – riot police – and House of D officials turned off all the lights inside, hoping to quiet things down. Instead, women set small fires in their cells, and demonstrators cheered the flickerings in the windows. They dispersed without major incident. Placed in isolation, Davis went on a ten-day hunger strike. She spent nine weeks in the facility while fighting extradition to California, where, she was quite convinced, she’d be convicted and put to death. In fact she would be acquitted of all charges in a San Francisco courtroom in 1972, after spending eighteen months behind bars.

Davis was the facility’s last celebrity tenant. Through the 1950s and 1960s, Greenwich Village civic and neighborhood groups had constantly called for the facility to be removed to some location more appropriate, which is to say far away from where they lived and walked their children to school. More liberal souls in the neighborhood thought it should stay, fearing that if the women were shifted to some more isolated location they might be all the more easily mistreated. Before he wrote the hit Broadway musicals Hello, Dolly! and La Cage aux Folles, Villager Jerry Herman wrote a satirical revue called Parade, which included a song about the House of D controversy:

Don’t tear down the House of Detention

Keep her and shield her from all who wish her harm

Don’t tear down the House of Detention

Cornerstone of Greenwich Village charm…

So I say fie, fie to the cynic

Know that there’s love in these hallowed walls of brown

There’s love in the laundry, there’s love in the showers,

There’s love in the clinic

'Twas built with love, my lovely house in town

Save the tramp, the pusher and the souse

Would you trade love for an apartment house?

Dworkin and Goldrosen’s testimony before a commission studying conditions at the House of D helped lead to its being shut down in 1971. Inmates were moved to a new facility on Rikers Island. After some debate about possible new uses for the Village monolith, it was simply torn down in 1973. The site is now a small, fenced-in garden. In 1974 Tom Eyen’s spoofy play Women Behind Bars, set in the House of D in the 1950s, premiered. John Waters’ star Divine performed in a later production.

by John Strausbaugh

11 notes · View notes

karajaynetoday · 4 years

Text

everybody's got their demons, even wide awake or dreaming | part one

Photo credit: Jess Gleeson

Hello friends! Hope you’re having a lovely day wherever you are in the world. Thank you to everyone who voted in my little Google form thing on what they’d like to see me write next. Here’s Part One of my 5SOS x music journalist story. It’s a little angsty, and as the first chapter this is a lot of introduction to the OC and her story, but I hope you like it! It’s the first time I’ve written an OC into a fic, so I’d love to know your thoughts and if you’re interested in reading more about Lizzie and her adventures interviewing 5SOS.

Shout outs to @wheniminouterspace and @calumrose for helping me sense-check this concept, and @spicycal for giving me feedback on it in its draft stages. You’re all gems!

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: Fem!OC, minor swearing

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

Lizzie Lawson was having a bit of a day. Her train had been late, she dropped her coffee moments after receiving it from the cute barista downstairs (and broke her favourite keep cup in the process), and her work computer had decided to run updates the moment she sat down at her desk. Maybe she shouldn’t have bothered to get out of bed this morning.

Her colleagues were tapping away at their keyboards, answering phone calls, and discussing upcoming story ideas with each other - the usual tasks, especially for a Monday morning. Lizzie, computerless and caffeine deprived, had to settle for a cup of instant coffee from the kitchenette, and had taken to tidying up her desk while her computer was restarting over and over again but still somehow not ready for use. She was on the floor, sorting through the snacks in her bottom desk drawer (crackers that were two months’ past their expiry date, some gummy worms, and what seemed like hundreds of cans of tuna) when James, the music editor, stuck his head out of his office and called for her.

“Lawson! Where are you?” James sounded confused. He could’ve sworn he’d seen Lizzie at her desk moments ago, and then suddenly she popped her head up like a meerkat.

“Jimbo! Here. What’s crack-a-lackin?” Lizzie responded, standing up and brushing herself off as she headed towards where James was standing in his office doorway.

“Got a pitch for ya. Step into my office, if you’re finished with your spring clean.” James chuckled as he stepped back inside and sat down on the couch opposite his desk.

A number of journalism awards were displayed on the shelf above the couch, and the floor to ceiling window overlooked Sydney’s CBD and its tall, grey buildings, with a glimpse of the harbour ocean in the distance. Lizzie had to admit she’d imagined herself in James’ desk chair more than a few times; the music editor of one of Australia’s leading youth and pop culture publishing companies, regularly travelling the world to interview award-winning artists, and assigning and guiding well-crafted investigative pieces on the entertainment industry and those within in.

But, in reality, Lizzie had only recently worked her way up to being in the music department, after a couple of years on the news desk and a series of casual internships at different publications around the place. But music journalism, and the passion she had for live performances and watching artists grow and develop their sounds and aesthetics over their careers, was where Lizzie had always wanted her career to go. She was grateful to James for having her on the team, but she also knew that he didn’t recruit just anyone - so her writing must’ve been strong enough to get her here. James was a good boss, salt of the earth, always had his team’s back, but he was also a little mysterious, and this morning’s meeting was one of those where his face was giving absolutely nothing away as Lizzie joined him on the couch in the office.

“So, what’s up?” Lizzie said, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice.

“Well, Lawson. You’ve only been on deck for a few months, but turns out my gut instinct about you has paid off. That profile you did on the 1975 last month has gotten some good feedback and traction out and about.” James spoke in a measured tone, pulling his laptop off the coffee table and opening it.

“Oh! Well, that’s… good, right?” Lizzie still couldn’t figure out exactly why she was in James’ office. Or why she was so nervous.

“Correct, it is good. It’s been great to see you come into your own a little bit, and develop your interview style. I also really appreciated you stepping in to cover the Matt Corby interview for Hannah the other day, when she had that stomach bug.” James continued, seemingly searching for an email or something on his laptop as he spoke.

“No worries! Hannah’s notes were really thorough, plus I definitely had a Matt Corby phase when he was on Australian Idol back in 2006! Oof, that fringe, you know?” Lizzie cringed internally when she heard herself starting to babble.

James snorted, before clearing his throat. “I’m sure Matt was glad the 2006 hairstyle didn’t take up too many words in the final profile piece. He was pretty happy with it though, and his management were too, according to the label. So happy, in fact, that they’re requested you to profile another one of their artists.”

James had Lizzie’s full attention now, and she still couldn’t read his expression. “Really? Me? Who’s the artist?” She asked, trying not to get too excited too soon.

“Yes, indeed, you. 5 Seconds of Summer, or 5SOS. They’ve got a new album due out in a month or so, and their publicist is keen to fly you out to LA for a few weeks to follow them around while they wrap things up in the studio, and do a profile piece on their journey to date. Are you familiar with their stuff? They’re offering us an exclusive, something about the album being linked to their homeland or something, so they wanted to go with an Australian media outlet first.” James set his laptop back down on the coffee table and angled it so Lizzie could see an email on the screen that had a few lines of text and a photo of a band onstage.

5SOS. Was Lizzie familiar? Oh yes, she was familiar. Lizzie Lawson hailed from the western suburbs, and 5SOS was the area’s biggest success story. Aussie boys made good, with millions of albums sold, billions of song streams, thousands of concerts played all around the world, that was their career to date. But for Lizzie, 5SOS were always a bit closer to home. She’d attended the same high school as three of the band members, and Michael Clifford was someone she called her best friend, once upon a time. Ashton had also befriended Lizzie’s older brother Lachlan when they’d worked together at KFC. That was years ago now, and they’d all fallen out of touch, because sometimes that’s just the way the universe works. You grow up and you move on and you don’t keep the same friends, because sometimes they move to the other side of the world and get super famous as successful musicians. Or something like that. Even if they know your deepest secrets, or biggest fears, or hopes and dreams, or you trust them more than anything, sometimes they still leave you.

Lizzie’s previous state of intrigue quickly became panic, because what if she wasn’t actually being chosen based on the merit of her work? What if the 5SOS team knew about her connection to the band, and were going to use it to manipulate her writing in some way? What if it was all a ploy to get her and Michael in the same room so he could finally call her out on what had gone down between them all those years ago? What if -

“Lawson! You on planet earth still, or wait?” James snapped his fingers in front of Lizzie’s face to get her attention. She shook her head to clear it, and wrung her hands together in her lap.

“Yep, I’m familiar with their work. A little fuzzy on the most recent work, but I have a bit of knowledge on a lot of their early stuff. And Youngblood, of course. Everyone knows Youngblood. ARIA song of the year, a billion streams, etc etc.” Lizzie spoke, meeting James’ gaze as he cocked his head at her curiously. He knew Lizzie had a tendency to get a little nervous when she was put on the spot, but there was something about her right now that was a little more unsettled than usual that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Good. Well, if you’re down, the label will cover three weeks accommodation in Los Angeles. Labels don’t usually do that kind of thing, but their manager is super keen for you to get enough quality time with the band to build up a solid profile piece. We’ll cover your daily expenses, I’ll send you instructions for the claiming app, and then we just need your passport to get the flights booked. Sound okay?”

“Y-yep. Yes. Okay. Right. When would I be leaving?” Lizzie pinched her thigh through her jeans to double check that she wasn’t dreaming, and that yes, this was actually happening.

“Friday midday. We’ll put some feelers out in LA, and see if there’s any other interviews you can do while you’re there, but your focus will be on 5SOS because they’re picking up the bill for your stay. But that being said, don’t let that sway what you write. They’ve requested you because they like your deep, detailed, open style of profiling, so don’t be afraid to ask some curly questions to get the answers that will craft the right piece, you know?” James spoke firmly, looking pointedly at Lizzie who quickly nodded in response.

“Right, well, I’ll cc you into this email chain with their publicist and manager, and we’ll go from there. You can hand over your other pieces to Hannah, you’ll need to spend the next few days prepping for LA and doing whatever research you need to feel ready. You’ve got this, Lizzie. I know you can do a great job.” James was trying to be encouraging, as he stood up and opened the door to his office, but Lizzie’s heart was pounding with nerves and she barely hear his words.

She walked back to her desk in a daze, and Hannah had to literally poke Lizzie in her side to get her attention and ask what James had said in the meeting. A few excited squeals and a bear hug later, Hannah was off and running talking about lists of things Lizzie needed to organise before her international adventure was due to begin in a few days’ time. Lizzie, on the other hand, still couldn’t believe it. What the fuck was happening?

The next few days flew by in a haze of emails, life admin, last minute shopping trips and a lot of deep breathing on Lizzie’s part, and before she knew it, she was wrangling her suitcase out of an Uber and into the international terminal at Sydney Airport. Lizzie, as a generally anxious person, had arrived the full three hours early for her flight, but her parents had treated her to a flight lounge guest pass (because they wanted her to know they were proud), so she was able to deal with her nerves by eating far too many complimentary croissants and hash browns.

Soon enough, the time to board the plane arrived, and Lizzie was grateful that she ended up in an empty row of seats, by some miracle. Praise be to the airline gods, or whichever higher power had decided she’d be able to at least try and get some sleep in the next fourteen hours. She’d set her phone and watch forward to Los Angeles time, so she could try and adjust her body clock accordingly, which meant that she’d have to stay up for a few hours at least.

Lizzie tried to be productive, and tapped away at her research notes on her laptop for a little while, before she found herself opening up the band’s instagram page in her browser. The four men staring back at Lizzie through the screen seemed a million miles away from the gangly, excitable teenagers she’d known all those years ago. There was an interesting intensity about them in the photograph, steely gazes and defined bodies under carefully selected clothing, but there was also a peacefulness in their poses beside one another. Like being together, in this moment captured minutes before heading onstage, was the most natural thing in the world. Lizzie found her eyes drawn towards Michael; his dirty blonde hair swept across his forehead (not dissimilar to the style he’d had in their high school days, to be honest), and it was accompanied by some scruffy facial hair and a dangly cross earring in one ear. His grey-green eyes seemed to peer right into her soul, and Lizzie involuntarily shivered at the thought of seeing him again in person in a day or so.

She was still anxious about whether or not this entire thing was a scam, but nonetheless, she was going to try her darndest to be a consummate professional, and write the best profile story of her life. In her research, Lizzie had reviewed some previous 5SOS interviews, and she’d cringed her way through their Rolling Stone interview from many years prior. She remembered reading it at the time it was published, unable to believe some of the words attributed to the boys she’d once called her friends, and the intense aftermath that followed. Understandably, they’d avoided in-depth profile interviews since, so Lizzie was incredibly curious as to why they’d changed their mind. Why now? Why her? She closed her laptop and drifted into sleep, curled up across three airplane seats and tucked under a thin blanket.

Lizzie’s shoulders and neck were stiff when she awoke, an hour or so before her flight was due to land. She used the in-flight wifi to check her emails quickly, and noted a new one from 5SOS’s publicist Danielle, which welcomed Lizzie to Los Angeles and explained that she should catch a taxi to her accommodation at the address listed, and that she should give her a call once she was checked in. Right. That seemed straight forward enough.

LAX customs were intimidating as ever (god, Lizzie was so nervous), but Lizzie made it through without incident and was able to quickly make her way into a cab with a driver who seemed familiar with her accommodation address. They drove her to a boutique-looking hotel, and when Lizzie checked in and made her way up to her room, she was pleasantly surprised at how nice it was. A queen-sized bed, a good desk for working at, a nice view from her balcony of the Hollywood Hills, a small kitchenette with a fridge and microwave, and a glorious bathroom that had a very enticing bath tub in it (Lizzie’s shoulders and neck were already thankful for the idea of being able to soak in some nice hot water for a while).

After checking the room for serial killers (better to be safe than sorry, right?) Lizzie had a quick shower and changed out of her travel trackies and oversized hoodie into a pair of jeans, a clean shirt and a blazer, before opening up her phone and scrolling down to Danielle’s contact. A few deep breaths were required before Lizzie built up the courage to press “call”.

“This is Danielle!” A cheery American accent answered on the other end of the line.

“H-hi Danielle, this is Lizzie, from Junkee Australia. You said in my email I should give you a call once I was all checked in, and I am, so…” Lizzie found herself giggling nervously and facepalmed.

“Lizzie, of course! How was your flight? Long and boring?”

“Yep, that about sums it up!” Danielle’s enthusiasm made Lizzie feel like she had to perk herself up a bit in conversation.

“Well, I’m sure you’re gagging for a nap, but we’ve got to get you adjusted to the timezone so we can make the most of your time here. I’m just finishing up something in the office, but I can swing by your hotel in about 45 minutes, and we can go over your story pitch and the band schedule for the next few weeks, and figure out your interview time slots and other things you can go along to observe, if that works for you?” Lizzie could hear Danielle’s keyboard clacking as she spoke.

“Sure, well, you have my number now, so just text me when you get here. I’ll try my best not to nap in the meantime.” Lizzie’s somewhat dry response got a laugh out of Danielle, who agreed and bid her farewell, ending the call.

Placing her phone down on the bedside table, Lizzie looked around the hotel room that was set to be her home away from home for the better part of the next month, and spotted a coffee machine on top of the mini fridge. If she was really going to keep her no-nap promise, caffeine was definitely in order.

True to her word, Danielle arrived at the hotel within the hour, and soon Lizzie found herself sat beside Danielle on a fancy couch tucked in a corner of the hotel lobby. Danielle had opened up her laptop, and also pulled a plastic folder of documents out of her tote bag.

“Okay, so… I’m sure you’ve done your own research, but here’s a few hard copies of the band bio, album press release, and a few other tidbits from the label, along with a hard copy of the band schedule. It’s all confidential and coded, the electronic version I’ve emailed you will have the proper locations for everything, but I thought a print out might be handy anyway. The boys are recording some stuff at the studio Calum has at his house tomorrow, so I figured we could introduce you there and then after that figure out what else you’d like to get done. There’s an industry showcase for some of the new songs at the end of the week, and then they’re doing various promo and album prep things, finalising mixes, photoshoots, etc, so there’s a bit of variety for you. Any initial thoughts on how you want to do the interviews for your profile?” Danielle rattled off, gazing at Lizzie expectantly when she finished speaking.

Lizzie blinked at her a few times before collecting herself. “In my research, I found it really interesting to hear the band and some of the fans talking about how 5SOS has evolved into the collective effort of four individual artists, not just the band as one artistic music entity, so I was hoping, if possible, to interview them individually, as well as observing them as a group. Would.. Would that be okay, do you think?”

Danielle pursed her lips, before breaking out into a smile.

“I think that sounds exactly like something the band would be willing to do. Damn, Matt Emsell was right - you do know your stuff.” She chuckled, handing the folder of documents over to Lizzie and pulling out the schedule that was on top.

“So studio at Calum’s tomorrow from 10am, I’ll swing by and collect you so we can do introductions, I’ll stick around for a bit just to make sure you’re all good but otherwise I’m just going to let you do your thing. The band have been doing this for long enough now, they don’t need their publicist hovering.”

The curiosity was killing Lizzie. She couldn’t not ask.

“Danielle, I’ve got to ask this, sorry. Do the band… know me? Know that I’m the one coming to interview them?” Lizzie managed to get out, avoiding eye contact.

“What do you mean?” Danielle cocked her head to one side, clearly confused at the question. “I sent them the Matt Corby piece you did, and they liked that, so that was one of the reasons we asked you out here. So they’re familiar with your work, if that’s what you’re asking?”

“No, um… oh god, I’ve made this super awkward now.” Lizzie laughed dryly, wringing her hands together. “I mean, I know them. Personally. Or at least I used to. I’m from Sydney, and I went to school with Luke, and Calum, and… Michael. So I was just wondering, um, if they realised that it was me and that was part of why I was asked to come to LA for this…Not really sure why that would make them choose me, but I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page before tomorrow.” Lizzie finally dared to look up at Danielle, whose expression was unreadable.

“Hmm, well, that is interesting. As far as I know, that wasn’t a factor at all. We all genuinely liked your writing style, so whether or not the boys made the connection, I have no idea. They’re not super keen on any irrelevant personal life stuff making it into this piece though, so if this is going to be a problem for you, we should deal with it now.” Her tone was slightly less warm than before, and Lizzie could sense the protective publicist side of Danielle kicking in.

“Definitely not a problem. I entirely intend to be fully professional, and like you said, my writing will speak for itself. Just wanted to put it all out there. Not a problem for me.” Lizzie spoke up, willing herself to sound more confident than she felt.

“Good. We have no problems here then. I’ve got to run, but text me with any questions, otherwise I’ll see you at 9.30am tomorrow for the drive to Calum’s!” Danielle’s tone was nice and bright again, as she shut her laptop and gathered her belongings, patting Lizzie’s shoulder in what she assumed was some sort of attempt at calming her nerves.

It didn’t work though. Not a problem for Lizzie? Bullshit. Not a problem for 5SOS, and Michael in particular? Seemed unlikely.

Lizzie was worried she’d have a restless night’s sleep because of her overwhelming anxiety about the next day’s reunion, but the exhaustion from her travelling overtook her and she almost slept through her alarm. A quick shower and a shot of espresso later and Lizzie was downstairs waiting for Danielle to pick her up to head over to meet the band.

“Morning! How’d you sleep?” Danielle chirped as she rolled into the car park, her car window down.

“Very deeply, thank you! The room is really comfortable. Thanks again for organising.” Lizzie mentally urged herself to keep up the small talk as a way of hiding her nerves.

The car ride over was mostly quiet, but when they pulled up outside of what Lizzie assumed was Calum’s house, she definitely felt like she was about to vomit.

“Just so you know, I flagged our conversation last night with the band. About your pitch around the individual interviews, and also about your little… connection to them. Ashton didn’t seem to think it was a problem, so it should all be fine.” Danielle mused, as she opened her car door and hopped out. All Lizzie could do was nod, because her throat was dry and she was starting to panic. She blindly followed Danielle through the front gate and around the side of the house to a building in the backyard, Lizzie strained to hear what sounded like raised, male voices floating towards them as they approached. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it didn’t entirely sound positive.

Danielle knocked loudly on the door and shot Lizzie a reassuring smile, before the shouting subsided and it swung open. Calum Hood stood in the doorway, and Lizzie sucked in a breath. It’d been eight years, maybe more since she’d last seen Calum, and even then, had they spoken? She couldn’t remember.

Calum smiled at Danielle, and then his eyes flickered over to Lizzie, not quite carrying the same happiness, but not entirely losing it either.

“Morning, ladies. Welcome to casa di Calum, come on in.” He spoke with that scratchy, deep voice of his that Lizzie had reacquainted herself with when watching hours of interviews during her research.

Danielle stepped passed Calum into the room, and she indicated for Lizzie to follow, which she did. Lizzie could feel Calum’s gaze on her as she brushed past him, but the minute she stepped inside, any sense of warmth or welcome she’d felt before vanished.

Luke and Ashton were standing over by the sound recording panel, turning to look at Lizzie and Danielle as they entered. Lizzie thought she saw a hint of a smile on Luke’s face (they had survived Year 8 Maths together, after all… that had to count for something, right?), but Ashton was unreadable.

Entirely obvious, though, was the look of bitter disdain on Michael Clifford’s face when Lizzie finally spotted him hunched over on the couch along the wall. Those grey-green eyes were staring her down with a harsh glare. It had familiarity about it, Lizzie realised, but not in a good way.

Danielle cleared her throat in the silence, and turned to Lizzie.

“Well, I believe introductions might not be required, but in the interest of professionalism and courtesy - “ Lizzie didn’t miss Danielle’s pointed glance towards Michael, who was still scowling silently towards everyone - “Lizzie Lawson from Junkee, I would like you to meet Calum Hood, Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings and Michael Clifford, also collectively known as 5 Seconds of Summer or 5SOS.”

Lizzie waved, and then immediately cursed herself for being so goddamn awkward. She received a nod of recognition from Ashton, and small smiles from Luke and Calum. From Michael, more scowling. This was going to be a long three weeks.

“So, Lizzie, why don’t you go through the pitch for the profile that we discussed yesterday? The boys already have a bit of an idea, but I’m sure they’d love to hear it from you.” Danielle was being overly encouraging, but it worked, and Lizzie took a deep breath before speaking.

“Thanks, Danielle. And thank you to you guys, honestly. I know this is a little strange for all of us -”

“Fucking oath it is.” Lizzie heard Michael mutter under his breath, but she continued, undeterred.

“But, I’m really excited to have the opportunity to interview you and pull together this story. Especially on behalf of the Australian music media. I know they haven’t always given you the recognition you deserve, but I think this piece is a chance to overcome that. Anyway, the specific pitch I’d love to go with is reflective of you as individual artists, as well as the collective band group. If it’s suitable, it’d be great to have the chance to speak to each of you one-on-one as well as a group, to give a holistic view of your journeys as people and as musicians and what you’re trying to achieve with this album. So… yeah…” Lizzie trailed off nervously, clenching her hands at her sides.

“I love it. We’re happy you’re here, Lizzie. I really loved the Matt Corby piece Danielle sent us, and like you said, it was really important for us to have the perspective of an Australian journalist for this story and where we’re at right now.” Ashton’s calm voice broke the silence, as he nodded at Lizzie in agreeance. Luke and Calum nodded too, and Lizzie tried not to look towards Michael because no doubt he was still glaring at her.

“Great! Everyone’s on the same page. I have to dash off to a meeting, but Lizzie has my number if she needs it, otherwise all of you please behave and don’t scare her off, nor say anything that means I’ll have to destroy her tape recorder. Sound good? Good!” Danielle rattled off quickly, moving out the door and shutting it behind her.

The tension in the air was thick, and it was all seething from Michael’s direction towards Lizzie. She closed her eyes for a moment, before reaching into her bag and pulling out her phone, notebook and pen. She spotted a chair behind her, and turned back towards Luke and Ashton.

“Well, where do you want to start? A group sit down, some general thoughts on the journey so far and what the album experience has been like?” Lizzie offered, trying to make herself sound enthusiastic, but also in control and like she knew what she was doing.

Luke, Calum and Ashton all murmured in agreeance, and moved themselves over to sit by Michael on the couch, while Lizzie dragged the chair she’d spotted over to sit facing them.

“Right. All good if I audio record this?” She asked, hitting record on her voicenotes app after three heads nodded at her.

“So, the album. Where did it begin? Did anyone or anything influence or kick off the sonic direction or the start of the exploratory process?”

The conversation was flowing quite well, Lizzie though. Ashton dominated most of the responses to her questions, but Luke and Calum chipped in their perspectives throughout. Michael didn’t say a word, even when Calum poked him in the side, and instead of glaring at Lizzie he was now staring blankly at the wall over her shoulder. An improvement, sort of, but still not ideal from a journalist and interviewee perspective, let alone when the interviewee was someone who used to be Lizzie’s best friend.

Before she knew it, an hour had past, and Ashton stood, remembering a meeting they had scheduled with the label and their management team, and bringing the interview to a close.

As Lizzie was packing up her equipment, she cautiously brought up the topic of the one on one interviews.

“So, does anyone in particular have free time in the next few days, so I can start on the individual profiling part of the story?” Lizzie asked, her tone hopeful.

Michael’s response was to push straight past her and walk out of the studio, muttering to himself and slamming the door as he went. The loud noise made Lizzie flinch, and she realised her heart was racing and her hands were a little shaky.

“I’ve got time, LL Cool J. I’ll meet you at Joan’s on Third for lunch, say 1pm?” Lizzie smiled at the pld nickname Calum slipped into his quiet response to her question.

“Works for me, C Dizzle Swizzle. Thanks again for your time today, I really appreciate it. Not to sound like a broken record, but I’m really excited for this piece and the chance to tell your story.” Lizzie found herself grinning like an idiot as she met Calum’s warm gaze, and noted that Ashton and Luke were also smiling at her.

“We’re excited too, Lizzie. Even if… some of us might not quite be as enthusiastic as they should be. But, don’t worry. He’ll come round.” It was Luke that spoke this time, his striking blue eyes somehow staring straight into Lizzie’s soul as he looked at her.

“Here’s hoping.” Lizzie tried not to sound too dull in her response, but it was a challenge.

Because honestly, how the fuck was she going to do a profile on all four members of 5 Seconds of Summer, if one of them could barely stand being in the same room as her?

Time will tell, Lizzie thought to herself as she walked out of the door to Calum’s studio and into the warm California sunlight. Time will tell.

Taglist: @suchalonelysunflower @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @loveroflrh @spicycal @notinthesameguey @metalandboybands

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

#5sos imagine #5sos fanfiction #my writing #ashton irwin imagine #luke hemmings imagine #calum hood imagine #michael clifford imagine #5sos blurb #ashton irwin fanfiction #luke hemmings fanfiction #calum hood fanfiction #michael clifford fanfiction #whew this is the longest thing i've written so far #hope you like it #it's fine if you don't tho #the posting anxiety is REAL omg

64 notes · View notes