rolled trousers

I'm looking for more musical blogs (not only Hamilton) to follow

So reblog/like/follow if you post: 

  • Hamilton
  • The Book of Mormon
  • Falsettos 
  • An American in Paris 
  • Newsies 
  • Aladdin
  • Beauty and the Beast
  • Fiddler on the Roof
  • A New Brain
  • Pippin
  • Annie 
  • Wicked 
  • In the Heights 
  • Something Rotten!
  • Into the Woods
  • Dear Evan Hansen
  • Merrily We Roll Along
Maybe it’s a psychological thing, or I’m creating an alter ego, but it’s fun to banter with your evil twin,” he says, rolling up his trouser leg to show me a tattoo on his calf that says “Rodger” in scrawled letters, near a tattoo of Jack Nicholson as The Joker. “He’s quite influential, that Rodger. He’s done a couple of songs on the new album. He’s off fishing today.
—  Zayn on “Rodger” (via The Sunday Times Style)
Maybe it’s a psychological thing, or I’m creating an alter ego, but it’s fun to banter with your evil twin,’ he says, rolling up his trouser leg to show me a tattoo on his calf that says ‘Rodger’ in scrawled letters, near a tattoo of Jack Nicholson as The Joker. ‘He’s quite influential, that Rodger. He’s done a couple of songs on the new album. He’s off fishing today.’
—  He has a naughty, clever, playful side. He enjoys pretending to be his own evil twin, Rodger Malik. It’s a bit like Eminem’s Slim Shady.
Sunday Times article - Zayn


 Zayn Malik’s eyelashes are epic. They ought to have their own Twitter account, like Cara Delevingne’s eyebrows. They are long, matt and untouched by mascara, as I can report with authority from my seat next to this delicately beautiful man on a sofa in a cavernous photo studio just outside Paris. He appeared on set half an hour early and full of enthusiasm (“This coat is sick, man, I love the tailoring”) and pursued, as ever, by paparazzi who had followed him from his hotel, the Four Seasons George V, where he and Gigi Hadid are slumming it during Paris fashion week.

“Zigi” are the pop/fashion power couple of the moment. She has just appeared on her 19th Vogue cover, the inaugural Vogue Arabia (a nod to her father’s Palestinian heritage); he is currently finishing his second solo album and was in the recording studio till 5am this morning. The stakes are high because his first solo single, Pillowtalk, was No 1 in 68 countries. But after his years in One Direction, slogging away at the coalface of teeny pop, he is now his own man and enjoying it. Does he consider Paris fashion week, which he’s ostensibly here for (he sat front row at Balmain to watch Gigi walk), work or pleasure? “I don’t see any difference. I do my work and I have fun while I’m doing it.”

He flew to Paris to surprise Gigi as a romantic gesture. “She didn’t know I was coming,” he says. “I went up to the suite to knock on the door…” Pretending to be room service? “Exactly. But my number had changed to European on her phone, so it wasn’t much of a surprise in the end. She played along with it, though.” Ah, Gigi, such a good sport. “It’s been amazing spending time here with my girlfriend,” he says. “The food is always great here. Steak and mashed potatoes.” Living in LA, he’s missed the carbs. “In LA, you get your fresh fruit and your kale smoothies, but you don’t get yer potatoes.”

He hasn’t lost his Bradford accent, and it makes everything he says sound droll and unpretentious. “Bit raunchy, bit romantic, Titanic-like,” is how he gruffly describes his Fifty Shades Darker song with Taylor Swift, I Don’t Wanna Live Forever, currently in the charts. He grew up in East Bowling, where his mum, Trisha, who is Anglo-Irish, worked as a school chef, while his British-Pakistani dad, Yaser, stayed at home looking after the four children. Has he taken Gigi home yet? “I’ve never took her to Bradford, not yet. She’s met my family in London a few times, though.”

After he left One Direction in March 2015, breaking a million teenage hearts and ending a hugely lucrative mini industry (the band is now on hiatus), he lived at the Beverly Hills Hotel for six months, eating room-service chicken wings, feeling the vibes of all the musicians who had to stay at the hotel, such as Frank Sinatra, and doodling lyrics for his solo album, Mind of Mine, on the headed notepaper. Then he bought a home in Bel Air. “Gigi’s been living with me this past year,” he says. I notice that he pronounces “Gigi” not as a Gallic caress, but like a northerner going to the races: Gee-Gee. “I call her Gee, she calls me Zee,” he says. “There’s some other nicknames too, but I’ll keep those private.” He smiles.

They’re a hugely visible couple, who have been together since late 2015, and play out their love affair in fashion magazine shoots and the sexy video they filmed together for Pillowtalk — in which Zayn sings a passionate chorus that “f****** and fighting on is our paradise and it’s our war zone”. Why a war zone? “I don’t actually mean it’s a war zone,” he says slowly. “It’s a… metaphor for different things.” I pull a face. Zayn. I think we can do a little better than that. He takes the hint, draws breath and digs a bit deeper. “Love hurts,” he says. “Love is hard. Maybe my experiences of love up to writing that album were new and hard.”

He was previously engaged to Perrie Edwards of Little Mix, but they split in 2015. “I think there’s a strength in expressing emotion. If you were a guy, you used to have to be really masculine, but now expressing emotion is accepted and respected.”

When he published his autobiography last year, at the age of 23 no less, he came out as having suffered from an eating disorder, sometimes going for several days without eating at all. Headlines followed, such as “How Zayn Malik Is Shifting the Narrative of Men with Eating Disorders” in the Huffington Post. “It wasn’t specifically an eating disorder,” he says. “It was a control thing. Every area of my life was so regimented and controlled [the boys in 1D would sometimes have to go straight from playing a stadium to recording new material in the evening], it was the one area where I could say, ‘No, I’m not eating that.’ Once I got over the control, the eating just came back into place, super naturally.” He corrects himself. “Not supernaturally! Just really naturally. I came back to the UK and spent some time with my mum and got some TLC, and she cooked me food and I got back in touch, mentally, with a lot of the things I’d lost.”

How is his second album, due later this year, coming along? “They always say the second album is difficult, but so far I’m really happy with this one. There are real signs of growth and development. Hopefully, as a human being, I’m growing too, in my knowledge and perception.” Still, like so many, he gets “too wrapped up” in his social media. “I’m scrolling and scrolling and I’m, like, ‘I have to stop’, but I can’t, so I delete the app from my phone. And download it again the next day or whatever.”

He has deliberately surrounded himself with a music management team of strong, middle-aged women. Coming from a matriarchal family, he likes it that way. He seems in good hands. “I now have no problem with anxiety. It was something I was dealing with in the band,” he says. Did sharing his eating problem help? “Yes. People saw strength in that, and they didn’t seem to expect it from a guy, but they expect it from a female, which to me is crazy. We’re all human. People are often afraid to admit difficulties, but I don’t believe that there should be a struggle with anything that’s the truth.”

In One Direction he was tagged “the mysterious one”. “I have no idea why,” he says. “It was obviously a marketing strategy to appeal to different areas of female personalities and wants and needs. ‘I might want a cute one’, ‘I might want a cheeky one’, ‘I might want a mysterious one’, that’s all it was.” He’s smiling — he doesn’t seem bitter about having been a pick’n’mix pop puppet. “It’s cool, that’s life, I guess. I don’t really think of myself as mysterious, but maybe I am.”

He has a naughty, clever, playful side. He enjoys pretending to be his own evil twin, Rodger Malik. It’s a bit like Eminem’s Slim Shady. “Maybe it’s a psychological thing, or I’m creating an alter ego, but it’s fun to banter with your evil twin,” he says, rolling up his trouser leg to show me a tattoo on his calf that says “Rodger” in scrawled letters, near a tattoo of Jack Nicholson as The Joker. “He’s quite influential, that Rodger. He’s done a couple of songs on the new album. He’s off fishing today.”

Mysterious, possibly. Complicated, for sure. But Zayn seems at ease with himself. He’s pursuing new projects, including designing for Giuseppe Zanotti and some “regal, but street-inspired” looks for Versace Versus. “Actually, Gee helped me design for Zanotti. She’s a really good artist, really creative.” Donatella Versace commissioned Gigi to photograph Zayn and the British model Adwoa Aboah for a Versus campaign. “We shot it at the Chateau Marmont. It was just me, her and Adwoa. We got on a good vibe with it. There’s a dingy, rock’n’roll look to it.” How did Gigi take to being on the other side of the camera? “She didn’t have any problems taking photos,” he says. “There were no tantrums. She’s a really chilled person — she fell right into it.”

Donatella is more effusive, summing up their love affair: “They define the mood of their generation with their honesty, energy and love.” She’s got it. That’s Zee and Gee for you.

James x Reader - Beach

Originally posted by expectatmemories

Description: You and James spend the day at the beach. Literally the fluffiest thing I have ever written, which is saying something.

The sky is grey and the water looks like polished steel, but James is so warm beside you that it doesn’t matter. Hand curled inside his, he looks at you with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His eyes are teasing,
“I dare you.”
You hesitate, stood by the edge of the water, the waves crashing at your feet. Slowly you unlace your boots and take them off, stripping off your socks and gripping the front of his flannel shirt in an attempt not to fall over.
You look up triumphantly at him,

“See? Now you.”

You step into the water and shriek as the cold hits you. He laughs as he pulls off his boots and rolls up his trousers. You wade in deeper and he follows you, reaching for your hand. Taking his sleeve and dragging him after you, you gradually adjust to the ice-cold water swirling around your ankles.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, looking across the horizon. James didn’t reply. You turned around before you realised what he was about to do.
“James!” You squealed as he flicked water at you. He laughed as you carried on yelling, hastily dodging when you retaliated by splashing him. The salt water sprayed him anyway and you both fell apart laughing, engaging in a full battle. Your jeans were soaked up to the knees and you were shivering but you didn’t care.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” You taunted, pulling out your wand.
“Oh come on babe, play fair,” was his reply, holding up his hands in surrender, despite the fact he was smiling. There was a moment of silence between you as you waited for each other to make the next move. Suddenly he jolted forwards and you jumped backwards, splashing your way back onto the sand, laughing, leaving him behind.

Racing back up the empty beach, you felt the wind tearing through your hair and sped up. Yelping, you let him catch you by the waist and spin you around. Breathless, you fell together in a tangle of limbs onto the damp sand, beyond the point of caring about getting sand on your clothes. You rolled onto your back, trying to breathe through your laughter. He rested over you, gently brushing your windswept hair out of your face. His teasing smirk had been replaced with a gentle smile, his messy hair even more tousled than ever. Salt and sand dusted his damp hair and water clung to his dark eyelashes. He breathed something unintelligible as he lowered his mouth to yours. Raising yourself onto your elbows you met his lips. He tasted of salt and smelled faintly of lemons. You hadn’t realised you were shivering until then, but his mouth was so warm on your that you became acutely aware of the chill in your bones.
He noticed. Leaning back with a concerned look on his face he took out his wand and muttered something, drying your clothes instantly and making them warm against your skin.
“Thanks,” you smiled, snuggling into his chest as you both stood up.

A/N: I had the song Bones by the Killers in my head whilst writing this so it may be slightly inspired haha. Anyway, I’m trying to get back into writing, so that’s why my stuff has been quite short recently. Idk if its helping me or not, what do you think?

Summer symptoms

I love your stories and i was wondering if you could do one where newt sees red welts on the reader and gets worried while the reader tries to tell him its okay and its just a skin condition? Thanks in advance!

Master list

Originally posted by ultrailoveharrystylesblog


The sweltering heat hung in the air of the cottage, that the wide open windows simply couldn’t cut through. Newt came sluggishly through to the kitchen, where you were marking a large jug of iced tea, condensation dripping down the glass,  his linen shirt un tucked, the first several buttons undone, exposing more chest than was really appropriate, his hopeless hair an even bigger mess than usual, frizzing with the humidity.

You gave a light giggle as you picked up a tendril of his slightly ridiculous hair, ‘hey, leave my stupid hair alone mischief ’ he joked ‘it might be a bit cooler in the case, by the lake’ he suggested, as you handed him a large glass of the sweet icy liquid, taking a deep swig, followed by a sigh of relief along with his thanks.

“I’d like to check on the bowtruckles anyway, they’re not used to this kind of heat’ you murmured mostly to yourself as you wandered over to the brown leather case, newt following close behind you, jug of iced tea in his hand.

The pair of you made your way to the lake, that the grindylow’s called home, by the little Forrest where the rambunctious bowtruckles were swinging from the branches, enjoying the sun. “are you sure you don’t want to play, Pickett?’ you asked the small leafy creature, giving his tiny cheek a gently stroke, where he stood on newts shoulder, shaking his head vigorously, ‘alright, alright’ newt chuckled as he handed the creature to you, so that he could roll up his trousers, ready to dip his large feet into the delightfully cool water.

Following suit you rolled up your own pant legs, Pickett clearly enjoying himself, swinging on your hair, making yourself and newt chuckle. The cool water was wonderful, as you dipped your toes in. “ wait, what’s that? Has someone bitten you? Are you alright?’ newt asked gently grabbing your ankle so he could get a better look at the angry red welts that lay sprinkled across your legs, the heat only making them worse. “oh it’s just a skin condition, nothing to worry your pretty little head about’ you reassured him ruffling his still frizzy hair, as you settled yourself down on the tuftty grass, nudging his shoulder. “why didn’t you say anything? I could have made you a salve or something.’ He offered, worry clear in his voice, ‘the heat makes them look worse than they are, so long ash don’t scratch at them, they’re usually alright.’ You reassured placing your hand on his knee.

Newts brow was still furrowed in worry, ‘I’m sure that a mix of aloe and which hazel would help with the itching, it might relieve some discomfort’ he wondered aloud , still looking intently at your legs, that you were swishing in the water, letting the grindylows chase your feet. “if it’ll stop you from worrying, you can make the salve.’ You bartered with him, giving him a reassuring smile.


Have a great day and be safe


Daryl Dixon || On The Road

Originally posted by brickylnetwork

You were sat in the middle of Rick and Daryl. You had all decided to go on a run together and you had found a van full of food. You had found it in the middle of nowhere full of food and you saw it as a win for the day. “I say we celebrate with a drink from the vending machine over there,” Rick says pointing at an old gas station and pulling into it. You were trying to break into it when you heard walkers coming your way and it sounded like lots of them. “Y/N. Van. Now.” Daryl ordered pushing you into the back.

You watched as they were struggling to fight off walkers. “You need me!” You yelled going to get out when Daryl pushed you back in. “I need you alive.” You rolled your eyes and they continued to fight. You groaned grabbing your knife and jumping down stabbing walkers in the head and helping fight back. “Y.N!” You rolled your eyes and continued to fight.

You stood with your hands on your hips. “See I’m fine, now lets get back in the van.” You said putting your knife away before falling to the floor. You were sweating and murmuring. “She’s been scratched.” Rick said rolling up your trouser leg. “Oh would you look at that.” You said before passing out in Rick’s arms. “We need to get her back home now.” Rick said picking you up and putting you into the back of the van. “Daryl stay with her.” Rick said going to the front and starting the engine. “Daryl!” He screamed, Daryl jumped in the back and held you in his arms. “You’ve gotta stay with me now Y/N, We can’t lose you.” He said pushing your hair out of your face.

You looked up at Daryl who was looking at you. “Morning.” You said looking around before noticing where you were. “We’re in the infirmary?” You asked sitting up and looking around. “Y/N…I.” You looked at him and then to the door. “Why is there blood everywhere?” You looked down at the sheets and noticed there was blood on the bed. “What happened?” He took your hand in his. “You were fighting walkers… You got scratched and so we brought your back. Denise had to take your leg.” You moved the covers and saw that below your thigh was gone. “She said you’ll be fine though, you’ll be back to your full health soon.” You shifted in place and looked at the stub. “But I don’t-” He looked at you and you looked back. “How am I going to defend myself? How can I fight off walkers? I’m just going to slow you all down.” You said starting to panic at the thought of everything. “Everything will be fine I promise.” He said leaning over and kissing your forehead. “I promise.” You nodded and he hugged you.

“You need anything?” Rick asked popping his head in the door. Daryl had his head resting on the bed while you were reading to him and playing with his head. “A new leg?” You asked with a small smile. “Unfortunately we’re all out. How you doing?” You closed the book and looked at the sleeping Daryl. “I’m okay, I freaked out earlier but I’m okay now.” He hugged you across the bed. “You’re still a good member of the team to us.” You smiled and looked over at Carl in the doorway. “Besides, something being taken away from you enhances your skills, you’ll see,” Carl said with a small laugh before walking away. “Bye.” You whispered as Rick left the room. “Goodnight Daryl.” You whispered before leaning down and kissing his head.

“Goodnight Daryl.” You whispered before your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “No, no, no!” Daryl yelled trying to get your breathing again. He began CPR and nothing was working. “RICK HURRY!” He yelled still trying to get you back. He continued blowing air into your lungs and doing chest pumps but it was no use. “RICK!” He screamed at his friend who pulled into the gates and came to the back.

“She’s gone,” Denise said looking at you in the infirmary bed. You were laid weak and limp. Your arm was hanging off the edge and you were just sprawled out. Daryl flipped a metal table over and screamed. “FUCK!” He yelled making everyone in the room flinch around him. “Daryl she needs.” Rick started but Daryl grabbed his knife and stood above your body. He put both his hands on the side of your cheeks and kissed your forehead. “I love you.” He whispered closing his eyes letting the tears floor before stabbing you in the head to prevent you from becoming a walker. “It was the righ-” Daryl walked out grabbing his bow and arrow and walking out of the gates.

Seaside Snogging

By @abradystrix

With massive thanks to @torestoreamends for beta-ing and @autumn-of-ilvermorny for snogging enthusiasm :)


It’s a beautiful evening on the shore.

The water is warm and their toes are clutched deep into the wet sand as they roll their trouser legs up. Scorpius can’t help but glance at the skin on Albus’ legs, pale beneath a thatch of dark hair, bony ankles and knobbly knees exposed. His own feet seem long and gangly in comparison, and they instinctively curl inwards as his focus changes to the warm hand clasped in his.

He turns to look at Albus, whose gaze is soft and rests on the very line of the horizon. It burns orange and pink at the close of day. Scorpius rests his forehead down onto the crown of Albus’ head and breathes in the smell of the sea, the salty tang of the air and Albus. Just Albus. Fierce, funny, windswept Albus.

Albus tilts his head up to gaze at his friend, and something shifts. Before Scorpius realises what he’s doing, he’s caught Albus’ lips with his own and is kissing him, being kissed by him, feeling his breath and his soft lips and the slightest hint of a warm, tentative tongue.

His heart catches in his throat as the kiss deepens, and Albus’ hands are in his hair. He pulls him closer, pressing their chests together, beating hearts talking to one another through the soft fabric of their clothes. He rests his hands on Albus’ waist, softly at first, pulling him closer as it all intensifies. Feeling a burning sense of need inside, he allows his fingers to brush the delicate line where Albus’ t-shirt has ridden up and feels the delicious warmth of the skin there. Albus shifts against him, making a nondescript but utterly intoxicating murmur of approval.

They pull apart, infinitesimally, eyes closed and foreheads pressed together. They are both breathing quick, ragged breaths, and their feet in the sand are now touching, toe to toe. Albus draws a hand up to Scorpius’ face and presses his warm palm onto his cheek. Scorpius sighs happily, resting his flushed cheek into the reassuring pressure of Albus’s touch. Right now, the calming rush of the sea and the delectable warmth of this moment truly are all they need.

People do behave in a different way at the seaside: gentlemen roll up their trousers and paddle like small children, while staid matrons, along with giddy girls in service, sport broad-brimmed hats embroidered with a message demanding that they be kissed, and quickly.  Troll nannies, slightly comatose from the heat, smile benignly at their charges as they allow sand to be heaped up over their bodies.  I have even seen a few dwarfs remove their headgear and expose their bearded faces to the sun.  There must be a residual magi in that strand between land and sea.

–Georgina Bradshaw (as told to Terry Pratchett), “Mrs Bradshaw’s Handbook”
(Illustration by Peter Dennis)
(This picture is the most adorable thing.  Our author just hanging out at the beach writing.  I love these troll and dwarf swimsuits.)