#again from the cd and how it was something he first gave her to play the cds her brother gave her

[causenessus]

eggy i regret never sending you an ask about this quote i found that immediately made me think of rot. i screenshotted it and i've had it in my images forever and i'm not sure why i never sent it to you (i think i was just scared of you disagreeing with it or something idk </3) but now that i've read this chapter (amazing, by the way) i feel like this poem excerpt encases this work so so well:

"cautiously, i allowed myself to feel good at times. i found moments of peace in cheap rooms just staring at the knobs of some dresser or listening to the rain in the dark. the less i needed the better i felt."

"let it enfold you" (charles bukowski)

(and i ran out of tag space so i came here to rant more so u may want to come back after reading the tags bc i just got sick of having to abide to the character limits when i have so much to say)

rot just feels like an entire universe and world of it's own and it is so so beautiful

like a completely different universe that i want to go to i don't know how to explain it

(and sorry if these tags sound off or dry or anything!! i just want to show how genuine and serious i am about the impact this fic has had on me and how good it is by not using caps and everything if that makes sense)

i should probably save something to say when i reblog the masterlist again but eggy i loved rot so much. it was so so good. you are such a talented writer you should be proud of this; of the work as a whole and every single chapter and how much thought you put into every word and part and how much your heart has gone into this. i love this work SO much i genuinely need to go onto one of those book websites and get this work printed out. i love the way that this fic had impacted me so much i feel like i see reminders of it everywhere, or open my window and think of the first chapter of rot, and y/n trying to open her window while she smokes. i love the way the word "rot" itself has continued to be so important to this work. how it appears everywhere, how it is a part of y/n. i loved seeing y/n's character develop throughout this work, how her mindset changed multiple times throughout her different jobs, and as she got closer to iwa, and then they seperated, and then the immediate way her life was bright again, warm despite the bitter winter outside because she was finally in his arms again, and she was home.

rot: h. iwaizumi

chapter six -> a promise

(masterlist ; written content)

word count: 2.7k

now playing: my hot piss by die spitz

Autumn cools everything down. The feverish sort of pain that made her almost delirious has chilled into a dull, steady ache. Kiyoko rests her head on her shoulder. They sit on the couch together, under a shared blanket, and watch old, cheesy horror movies. Every on-screen death makes Kiyoko flinch and hide her face under the blanket.

It’s odd, to be in her apartment, to have it be her own as well. Where the fridge is free of remnants of rotten food and is properly stocked with essentials. Where the furniture matches and there’s no stuffing spilling out of the cushioning. It’s small, and sometimes she has to fiddle with the pipes under the sink to avoid calling a plumber, but it’s nice. It’s well-kept and Kiyoko always has some kind of candle lit. The walls are white, just white, not stained yellow from years of cigarette smoking. The locks don’t look like they’re about to fall off the door. There’s no mold in the bathroom. No pest infestations. No decay in the hardwood floor.

It makes her feel so out of place.

“My parents helped with the deposit,” Kiyoko had explained to her, almost sheepishly, like this was something she should be ashamed of. “And with the first few months of rent while I built up some savings. It’s how I was able to get it.”

Her brother would’ve liked Kiyoko, she thinks. He would’ve liked her quiet demeanor, and the deliberate sort of way she carries herself. He would’ve liked how spending time with her is never overwhelming. He would’ve liked how her voice is like a small stream that runs down the street after a rainstorm.

They would’ve gotten along.

She has the thought that he would’ve hated Iwaizumi, and then tries to pretend that she didn’t.

Onscreen, a head is removed from a set of shoulders. She tries not to think of Iwaizumi. It makes her sick, even his name. Never once has she felt like she did the right thing. Kiyoko keeps telling her that sometimes, the right things hurt the most. But that doesn’t help. It doesn’t quell the nausea she feels at his memory. It doesn’t fade that dull, aching loneliness. It doesn’t make her feel better about leaving him.

Objectively, her life as improved post-Iwaizumi. She’s held onto the same job for several months in a row without incident (no spitting, cursing, or fighting-though that’s mostly due to Kiyoko). She actually has money in her bank account now, ¥50,901.96, after rent (which, isn’t a lot by any metric, but it’s definitely more than nothing). Her father stopped calling. Her diet is much more balanced. The cable’s better. She doesn’t really get mad anymore.

It's an improvement. A drastic one. Something she probably wouldn’t have been able to achieve on her own.

But it’s worse. It just feels worse.

Blood spews from a headless body, cartoonishly fake. Kiyoko squirms, and she doesn’t flinch.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

The bell on the door to the sports shop dings as the it closes, and a customer leaves with fresh tennis balls. She rests her cheek on the palm of her hand as she leans up against the counter. She’s drawing the earth as it explodes from the inside, splitting into dozens of chunks of land and ocean. “Who the fuck buys tennis balls in November?”

Kiyoko slides behind the counter to stand beside her, peering over her shoulder to watch her draw. “I dunno. Maybe he’s going somewhere warm,” she offers as a solution.

Kiyoko doesn’t hate people the way she does. She can’t ever hate someone just because she wants to; Kiyoko doesn’t ever want to. It makes her feel mean, since the feeling of hatred comes to her so naturally. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Noya thinks you’re cute,” Kiyoko says, suddenly stiffer when she talks. “He asked if you were going to go out with us tomorrow night.”

She doesn’t know who Noya is. She probably should. He’s probably someone that she’s met more than once. But she can’t conjure up the face that’s supposed to go with the name. “Which one’s he?” she asks, well past the point of caring if she seems rude to Kiyoko.

Kiyoko knows she’s rude, at this point.

“The short one,” she answers. “The one with the blond in his hair.”

Her pen digs into the notebook paper, adding shading around a blown-up chunk of earth. “Yeah, he’s cute, I guess.”

Kiyoko makes a noise of acknowledgement. “But you’re not into him.”

It’s not a question, so she doesn’t answer it. Kiyoko sighs, and rocks on her heel. “That’s fair. As long as it’s because you’re actually not into him, and not because you’re not over Iwaizumi.”

Hearing his name spoken so casually makes her flinch. Kiyoko notices and leans her head down on her shoulder. “Well, we’ll get there.”

★⋆. ࿐࿔

At her lowest point, she calls her father.

She dials his number so many times she loses track of it. She stares at the numbers for so long they start to lose meaning. When she closes her eyes, she sees them burned into the inside of her eyelids. She hits ‘call,’ and then hangs up, only to dial him right back up again.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and definitely not why. She just sort of acts, moved by impulse and a craving for something unknown.

It rings. It rings three times before he answers. His phone is gruff and worn on the other line. “Hello?”

Her hand slaps over her mouth, and she tries to quiet her breathing, like she’s hiding from him. Her eyes prick and burn. “Hello?” he repeats on the other end, more impatient this time. Her heart pounds like he’s just on the other side of the door. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.

“Fucking hell,” is the last thing she hears before the line goes dead. The phone clatters to the floor of her bedroom, and she cries. The first time she’s cried like this in months.

She really doesn’t know what she’s doing.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

Most of her time is spent lying in her bed, doing nothing, thinking about everything. Sometimes she goes along with Kiyoko when she goes out with her friends, and she sits in the corner and tries not to draw too much attention to herself. She hates that. Sometimes she tries to pick up extra shifts at work just to pass the time. She hates that too. Sometimes she goes to this cheap dive bar just two blocks away from her new apartment, just to have a drink or two in a place that’s not her bedroom.

She orders a second drink. It’s bone-chilling cold outside, and the alcohol makes her feel warmer. Just a bit. She thinks it’s sad that this is the most exciting part of her week.

At least the festering rot that tore her up from the inside was interesting. Now her life is boring and depressing.

The call of her name is sudden and jarring. She spins around in the barstool with an elevated heartrate and her fingers reaching for her keys. She doesn’t recognize him, at first. When her eyes first land on him, she continues looking for a second, before it catches up to her. Her heart leaps up to her throat. “Matsukawa?”

Matsukawa chugs, his head tilted back and his Adam’s apple bobbing, downing the pint until there’s nothing left but traces of white foam. Her fingers tap against her own glass, looking at the condensation that leaves a ring around the wooden bar. It reminds her of the plastic cups of coffee Iwa brought her daily. She didn’t drink coffee before that. Now every morning she finds herself crawling out of bed at eight in the goddamn morning, throwing on whatever clothes are on her floor so she can get to the closest coffee shop before it gets too busy.

“Is he over me yet?” she asks, tips of her fingers collecting droplets of condensation.

Matsukawa slams his glass down on the bar. “Nah.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Not even a little. Iwa’ll never get over you.”

Her eyes roll. Matsukawa sees this and narrows his own. “Don’t think I don’t mean it.”

There’s an awkwardness that hangs between them. She takes a sip of her own drink and swishes it over her tongue, trying to distract from it. “He’s got a long time to.”

“Doesn’t matter. I know him. You were it.”

“Then he shouldn’t have left me.”

She says this, she realizes, with familiarity, the kind that no longer exists between her and Matsukawa. She hasn’t seen him since her father’s blood was on her hands. Any closes between them granted by the lifesaving has since evaporated, and now, they’re as good as strangers. At least to her.

Still, Matsukawa leans back in the bar stool. “Yeah, he probably shouldn’t have.”

She shifts in her seat uncomfortably. It would’ve been better if he argued. “Yeah,” is all she can manage, her fire dulled.

“You don’t look like you’re doing that much better than he is,” Matsukawa remarks, and she offers no reaction. It’s not like he’s wrong. “You two are both idiots. You’re perfect for each other.”

Her lip furls up. “You got a lot of fucking opinions on this.”

“Hard not to. Iwa’s heartbreak is everyone’s problem.”

Iwa’s heartbreak. She doesn’t like the implication of it. Like it’s just his. Like it’s nothing something he caused for her. Like it’s not something they share.

“C’mon,” Matsukawa says, hand clapping on her back, like he can see the thoughts brewing in her head, and he wants to cut her off before they can work their way over to him, “let me walk you home.”

He does. He walks her home and he talks about his recovery post-stabbing and he rants about Oikawa and he talks about this girl he’s been talking to that he’s not really that into and he talks about how good Makki’s been looking lately but he doesn’t ask about her and he doesn’t bring up Iwaizumi again.

At least that she’s grateful for.

And when he deposits her at her front door, he grins, and tells her that he’ll see her later.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

It’s snowing. She stands outside of his apartment, box in her hands and something caught in her throat. It’s been a few weeks since she’s seen Matsukawa, and she’s done little but think about him and what he said and fixate on it and let it gnaw away at her.

So she’s outside Iwaizumi’s apartment, snow getting stuck in her hair and fingers going numb.

Her list of problems doesn’t really exist anymore. They’re not as material, harder to pin down. Her anger issues have simmered down into this lethargic mood that has much less daily wear and tear. The split rent and the consistent income have dissipated the money problems. She doesn’t worry about things the way she used to. Things don’t really plague her the way they used to.

It’s really just him. It’s really just Iwaizumi.

She sighs. It was easier in her head. Everything’s always easier in her head.

Now that she’s here, all she can think about is everything that can go wrong. Matsukawa being wrong, and Iwaizumi being over her, so much so that he’s not even moved at the sight of her and there’s already someone else in there warming up her side of the bed. He could be working. He could hate her. It could go as badly as it did last time.

Kiyoko disapproved of the plan. Kiyoko wanted her to move on. She wanted her to find a life outside of Iwaizumi, purpose outside of him, drive outside of him.

But people like Kiyoko don’t get it. People like Kiyoko don’t know what it’s like to be infected with something so consuming and persistent and chronic. Kiyoko doesn’t get it. Iwaizumi gets it.

He gets it.

She inhales slowly, and forces herself to move forward.

Breaking into the front door of her old apartment building is something she’s done more times than she’s proud of. It’s oddly nostalgic to pop that old lock open, and it feels the same as she creeps up the stairs. It was like this when she first moved in. Bitter, winter air floating up the stairs like all the windows were left open. She remembers shaking as she hauled up trash bags of her belongings, and taking breaks to wrap herself up in the first blanket she could unpack.

She feels that way now as she stomps up the stairs, the bottom of her boots heavy against the wood. She wonders if he can hear her coming.

By the time she reaches the top of the stairs, her hands are trembling, and she’s slightly out of breath. She takes a moment to catch it before she’s shifting the box to hold in one hand, and she knocks. She does it before she has the chance to talk herself out of it.

The door swings open sooner than she thought it would, like Iwaizumi was just standing there on the other side, waiting for her. Waiting for her this whole time.

When she sees him, she holds her breath. She holds her breath as she counts the one, two three, four bruises and the one, two, three cuts that decorate his features. He’s paler than he was before. The bags under his eyes are darker.

Still, he looks pretty. She always thinks he looks pretty.

His reaction to her, standing at his doorstep after six months, is the same as his reaction to everything else. His brow slightly furrowed, mouth curled up in something that looks like annoyance. She’s not surprised when he doesn’t say anything.

“Um, hey,” is how she starts out. It makes her flinch. “I’m sorry to just like, pop up out of nowhere but, I just kinda wanted to see you. I, erm, I missed you. A lot.”

Iwaizumi says nothing to this either. She feels oddly like she is shooting herself in the foot, and she loses the ability to look him in the eye.

“I feel really bad about how everything went down,” she confesses, now staring at her shoes. He’s still looking at her, she can feel it. “I’ m not proud of the things I said or how I acted. I don’t-I don’t hate you, not at all.���

She thinks she can see his chest rise and fall with heavy, deliberate breaths. But she’s not sure. Could be imagining it. The corners of her vision are starting to blur. She holds the box up to him.

A CD player. Brand new. The same one he got her.

“I got you this. As a sorry. I felt like shit for breaking the one you got me. I feel like shit for a lot of it, but that gift meant a lot to me. Just like you do. And I break things a lot and I have a lot of issues and I don’t think you-“

She does not get to finish her sentence. Iwaizumi grabs her by the arm and pulls her into her chest. The force knocks the box out of her hands, and CD player slams to the ground between them. Before she can realize what’s happened, her feet are hovering above the floor, and Iwaizumi’s arms are tight around her.

It’s automatic, the way she returns the embrace. Her arms snake around his middle, and she leans her head against his chest. She started crying at one point, without realizing it.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Iwaizumi says, pressing his face into the top of her head, lips kissing her hair between words. “You have no fucking idea how sorry I am.”

She does, because she feels it. It gnaws away at her chest the same way it does to his. She shakes her head. “I get it,” she tells him. “I know it.”

“Please say,” Iwaizumi pleads. “Please. I would do anything for you to stay.”

If she were someone like Kiyoko, she would say no. She would leave. She wouldn’t have ever come back. Because she knows, she knows that Iwaizumi is not going to change. He’s not going to become someone different overnight, or over six months, or a year or a dozen. Iwaizumi is always going to be who he was the day that she met him.

People like your father only care about one thing. And it’s not you, and it’s not me.

She holds onto him tighter, and thinks that that’s okay. She is too. “I’ll stay,” she promises. “I’m not going anywhere.”

an: ok let’s try this again

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @pinkiscool @michivrse @cannibalsrider @kmwife @k8nicole @oikasenpai @fennecnco @riousluvs @bellamsby @rinheartshyunlix @bae-ashlynn @ephemeralninon @fangsbb @plumarbre @v-e-r-t21 @snail-squasher @seroh @mfcherry @canthavetoomuchchaos @ange1icarch1ve @applepi25 @wqnsho @19calicos @girlkissersco @Lisoozi @bailey-reeds @kitskasoboring @iluvaquaphor @lllaw @kinsies-blog @1lovestrawberrymilk

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Help in unexpected arms

Colin Gray x classmate!reader

warning : tiny fluff, comfort, kiss, some angst, injury (a little blood)

Summary : His date that night with Jennifer, who suddenly had a special aura around her, should have been something good and beautiful. What it shouldn't have ended up being is him running through the secluded street at night bleeding and finding himself half passed out in front of the door of a familiar face. A familiar face a little different from him but with a nature ready to help him.

info : For a very long time something for Colin again just something small fluffy at least to cuddle etc well have fun reading and until the next work

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cool evening air had surrounded him since he had left his house, the hopeful words of his mother that he could have gone out at a better time as there was still the afternoon service the next day but the words were just a murmur in his ears as the cool calming evening surrounded him, ,,Free at last” he mumbled as he broke out of the cage of his parent's house.

Instead, his heart skipped a beat as he thought of Jennifer in the last few days and weeks, she seemed to have changed, still shining brighter here and there with her suffering, she seemed to be more and more in the grave with each passing day, at least that's how it seemed to him as his thoughts about the brown-haired girl came up again and again in his poems.

She seemed almost like a muse to him and even though he had almost choked on his words, threatening to sink into the ground with shame, he had simply walked away and the message had popped up on the small screen of his cell phone and one press of the keys later he had the address in front of him.

It was about a quarter of an hour away, on the outskirts of a small town that only had a lively inner area and the further away you went, not only did the houses become more fragile, but the forest threatened to swallow you up - the idea of simply disappearing was actually quite pleasant, but the thought of being in the abandoned houses made him a little uneasy inside.

Disappearing into the forest would still have something picturesque about it, but these houses sometimes gave him the feeling that they would eat you up and leave you under the rubble, so he shook off the thought when he finally saw the green traffic light and turned off the main road in the remote direction.

Not noticing that the first house in the old street had a lighted house, a small house inhabited by a small family with currently one resident his classmate in history and literature and at the same time a participant in the church masses through her mother who had taken another night shift at the hospital.

The teenager who didn't pay any attention to the car couldn't either when she listened to rock music through her headphones, which she hid under her bed together with her mp3 player.

It was enough if she had to do the clean believer at school so she had some time for herself in the evening and could listen to a little music, sing and just watch a few horror movies without being yelled at that it was the devil.

But one thing in particular had made her smile that evening as Colin, who was sitting opposite her in Literature, had left the room after the bell had rung and lost a piece of paper, so she wanted to chase after him but didn't want to get lost in the corridor crowd of students, so she kept the poem for now.

,,When I give it back to him I'll ask him out,” she mumbled, glancing at her computer where the local movie theater's site was showing a classic horror movie, the perfect date and a beautiful poem about lost love, and she let it go round and round again.

A leeky scrawly cute handwriting she thought as she thought of him sitting in his dark room with the rock music playing from his cd player and him singing softly and writing the poem to himself.

She'd be lying if she said she hadn't lost her heart to him since she'd heard his poem and that cute smile when he talked to his friends and probably shared a few morbid jokes.

Turning back to her own things, she didn't notice how two figures met just a few houses away, how lust and love could cloud someone as her crush made his way through the building, the atmosphere was his but she had no idea what would happen.

The kiss should have sealed his fate the pain of the wound on his arm was a sign and the pain that went through his body as he suddenly felt sharp teeth on his neck his scream mingled with roars, cracking beams and rat squeaks the teeanger tried to tear himself away managed to find a wooden bed in the building and with a yelp and a holler managed to knock Jennifer or that something of hers off him.

Not wasting a moment he ran out of the room sorang down the stairs and almost got knocked down and ran outside but in his haste he had forgotten one thing and when he looked behind him he saw Jennifer standing in the window with a hideous bloodied mouth turning the car key around her fingers as she mouthed the word run.

The rosary he always carried with him lost in the flight, the individual wooden beads slowly rolling down the stairs as he rushed back to the main road, bleeding with adrenaline, panic beating in his heart that she would eat him as soon as he even looked behind him.

,,Help!” he screamed, his throat burning from running and screaming, finally making a sound as he shouted the word, calling the police but no one would hear him here, no one except Death who was after him to finish what she had started.

He knew he wouldn't make it until he saw the light in the corner of his eye, the first house on the street, a house he knew last fall they had stayed at her house on Thanksgiving after her mother had treated him at the hospital.

My salvation, he thought as he rang the doorbell, knocked, shouted and pressed against the window, the footsteps and shadows seeming to get closer the longer he lingered, but the main street was still a few meters away, which he wouldn't have made.

It was only a few seconds before the rock music stopped ringing in her ears and the moment of silence was enough for her to hear the quick ringing.

It's too early for mom she realized and decided to go and see anyway, maybe it was a delivery service that her mother ordered from time to time when she had a good grade or there was nothing left to eat.

Going downstairs in her dark pyjamas, she opened the door and screamed in horror as Colin burst in, bleeding and screaming, holding on to the stairs as he shouted, ,,Close the door! She wants to kill me!” and jerked away from her as she locked the door and hurriedly pulled the curtain shut and slowly turned to face him as fear coursed through her.

,,Colin…it's me…you're safe okay who's after you?’ she dared slowly sitting down on the stairs with him her trembling hand going to his barely noticing how she too now had blood on her hands as the cut on his arm dripped onto the wood and floor.

Something or someone must have attacked him but her glance at the door told her it was nothing and perhaps it was the first time she gripped the cold chain around her neck tighter and prayed within herself that all would be well, ,,Jen-Jenifer she's the devil!” he was still shouting but seemed slow to calm down as he held onto her when she tried to get up to fetch the first aid kit.

She paused, feeling uncomfortable about the whole sizaution and took off the cross necklace around her neck and put it in his hand, seeing that he didn't have his rosary with him.

,,Colin listen to me okay? My-my room is upstairs the first one on the right go there it's…safe” she said her voice still thick with anxiety as she sensed that something seemed to be watching her but the crosses and religious figures here in her house were protecting her.

She felt his hand on hers as he took the cross and a brief smile and a ,,Thanks” seemed to form on his face of fear, blood and tears before he ran upstairs and she went to the kitchen to find the first aid kit trying not to think about it too much but she too had noticed the change in Jennifer completely detached from the world pretty and then dead like.

,,She's not coming in here…don't worry Colin I'm with you” she thought and flinched as she heard an animalistic scream outside like a creature that was angry before the evil presence retreated and she too ran to her room no longer wanting to be alone.

Closing the door behind her she saw that Colin had calmed down, still shaking a little, he sat at the end of her bed looking overwhelmed and almost fascinated as far as he could at that moment.

,,Nice room…didn't think you liked that sort of thing” he admitted and she tried not to let on that she was trying to explain the whole situation to herself somehow, she sat down next to him and moved over on her bed, gesturing for him to follow what he was doing.

,,Thank you, well, you wouldn't believe what some people are, would you? Has me scared to death right now…let me see your arm" she admitted and saw the disappointed look on the black haired man's face.

He hesitantly rolled up his sweater and let her do her work knowing that she would do it better than him, since he had seen her again he knew about her talent as a prospective super healer at least for the moment.

She heard his soft ,,Thank you” again and he leaned a little against the bedstead, occasionally hearing a hiss or a gasp as she cleaned the wound, stroking his hand a little and he gripped her necklace tighter until his eyes fell on a piece of paper, ,,That's...that's mine,” he stated firmly and she looked up from his wound, feeling the warmth of her cheeks flush as she let go of his ministrations for a moment.

She expected him to want to leave, that he was getting too much of a crazy evening, but instead he handed her back the necklace, rubbed the blood off his sleeve and his hand touched hers as he handed it back to her.

,,Thank you… thanks for picking it up and not breaking it” he only said pulling back a little but the smile the wide joyful smile made her smile too ,,It's really beautiful so full of devotion, love and feelings just perfect’ she mumbled her thoughts to herself for a moment.

Putting the compress around the wound and pulling the bandage around it, she only half noticed Colin lean forward slightly and give her a kiss, a brief yet grateful sincere kiss before he pulled back and his nervous voice read the poem as she saw the pink on his cheek, his voice read the loving words and she sat down next to him.

The two's hands clasped together slowly, the chain seeming to connect them, ,,You touched my bleeding heart love," she heard his words before she leaned against him and Colin laid his head on hers as the two looked after each other that night, holding hands knowing that through blood and false love, only true hearts would be revealed, sealed with a kiss of true devotion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@angelsanarchy , @starry-eyed-wild-child ,

@rmwfe ->Here is the little emo boy ;)

[mc-lukanette]

Luka didn't consider himself particularly stupid, but he probably could've caught on earlier to what was going on. In his (weak) defense, Marinette had always been generous with her gifts.

Their friend group wasn't very large: it was him, Marinette, his sister Juleka, Ivan, and Rose. It was also common for them to give each other gifts even if it wasn't their birthday, just to show they cared.

Ivan, for example, gave him a CD one day. It was from a band he didn't recognize, but he was always open to hearing something new. Ivan had that exact thought, knowing he probably hadn't heard it but figuring he might like it. Luka appreciated it.

Then, only a couple days later, Marinette brought him a set of CDs, all from relatively new bands who'd yet to make a name for themselves. Perhaps that should've been suspicious to him, but they'd initially bonded over music in the first place and she was the designer for his band.

Still, he couldn't help commenting, "You didn't have to spend this much on me, Marinette."

"Oh, this?" She shook her head. "This is nothing! I had extra money from some commissions I did!"

There wasn't any sign of a lie. He smiled, thinking how it would be rude to reject the gift in that case. "Okay. Thanks for thinking about me."

She beamed with pride, and something else he couldn't quite place.

—————

The next gift was from Rose. She'd called his name in a sing-song voice and presented him with a thick, fluffy scarf. It was going to get cold soon and the insulation of the houseboat was only so-so.

She didn't hesitate to point out the absurd length either, which Luka had noticed but thought it polite not to comment on. Pointing at it from end to end when he held it stretched out, she didn't bother hiding the fact that it could be used as a "scarf for two."

Gently, he'd reminded her that he and Marinette were not together, nor was he interested in any sort of scheming to make it so. He was perfectly happy being friends and didn't want to push anything on her that she might not want.

It was that same train of logic making him believe that Marinette giving him a handmade scarf, less than a week later, was probably a coincidence.

Probably.

—————

Juleka made plushies of the five of them during art club: soft, carefully stitched together, and absurdly cute. She handed each friend's matching plush when they were all together and blushed when Rose insisted they trade because she wanted the Juleka plush. Luka, meanwhile, placed his atop the speaker next to his bed, impressed when it sat upright all by itself.

It felt like no time at all before Marinette brought along her own handmade plush to show him: himself in his Kitty Section costume.

"It's merchandise!" she explained excitedly, flipping the mask a few times and wiggling the guitar to show that they weren't stuck on the plush itself. "It's just a prototype, but I wanted you to have the first."

Using him as the prototype made sense. He was the oldest, even if only minutes older than his sister, and there was an unspoken agreement that he was the "leader." Decisions about the band tended to go through him as the final, most important voice, and he often spoke for all of them when in public.

The thing that tipped him off, however, was that Marinette was thorough. He would've expected her to drop a full set in front of him, a plan for how to market them, and a sketch of what the best place to sell them would be whenever they played somewhere, just for good measure.

Of course, he wasn't going to say any of that out loud and he loved it anyway, but something felt strange.

—————

"...Marinette," Luka said patiently.

She was all smiles and innocence, practically hopping in place as she held out the tiny jewelry box to him. "I just thought it'd be nice to have another set of earrings to wear!"

That sounded fine enough on its own. He supposed it'd be boring to play the same song over and over again, but this was her first attempt at making jewelry and she was giving it to him. There was something so obviously special about that, yet she was playing it off casually.

Taking the box and looking at the earrings themselves only made it more apparent. It wasn't just some jewelry she'd done up as a test and barely thought about the design of.

The earrings were simple, but clearly themed: a flower on each, but crotchet rests for leaves and a whole note as the center. There was no reasoning of merchandise or just trying something out this time; these were made with him in mind.

And, going off of the flower design, a little bit of herself too.

"This is a lot," he pointed out, and even that felt like an understatement.

She softened, sympathetic. Raising her hands up, she assured, "You don't have to wear them if you don't want to! I already thought that your earrings might mean something to you, so—"

"No," he cut in immediately, catching the misunderstanding. "I meant that you've been giving me so many gifts. You don't have to."

"Huh? But I do," she began as she straightened her back, glaring with determination and clenching her hands tightly into fists, "if I want to get that best friend spot!"

"What?"

He blinked at her, wide-eyed at the sudden declaration. Marinette herself only realized what she said a second later, her posture turning to a slump as she groaned into her hands.

Part of him thought about letting it go, but he was too invested in how important this was to her. He leaned in, asking softly, "Best friend spot?"

She lowered her hands just enough to look at him, then sighed and dropped them at her sides. "Juleka and Rose are already best friends, and Ivan has Mylene, so..." She flicked her wrist in his direction as if to say, 'well, you know.'

Luka did know now, but it hit him like a truck. He flashed back to times of the group playing video games together and the way Marinette's competitive spirit came out, quite literally, to play.

That expression he couldn't quite place all this time and her giving him so many gifts suddenly made sense: she'd been "competing" to take the role of his best friend. There wasn't even anyone to compete with, and she'd known that, yet something so basic held value to her to the point of seeing it as something to "win."

Luka turned his head away and covered his mouth with a hand. He wanted to laugh, but didn't want to give her the idea that he found her efforts something to laugh at. No, it was simply that it was the cutest thing he'd ever heard and it was taking actual effort not to say that out loud.

"A-ah? Luka!" Marinette called, leaning to try and catch a glimpse of his expression.

He went to speak, but remembered the hand covering his mouth and lowered it. Grinning at her, he replied, "You've already got the part."

"The part?" she repeated, then grew excited when what he meant hit her. "Really?"

Cute. So cute. The absolute cutest. How'd she been friendless for so long before meeting him and the others was beyond his understanding.

"What did it?" she pressed. "The CDs? The scarf? The plush? The earrings? It was the earrings, right?"

He shook his head, unable to stop smiling, and didn't elaborate beyond, "It's you." Then, staring down adoringly at the earrings in their little jewelry box, he added, "But I do want to wear these. Can you put them in for me?"

She was still in shock, but shook herself out of it to answer him. "O-oh, sure..."

She took the jewelry box back and he turned around to take out his earrings. He knew it wasn't like he was getting undressed in front of her or anything, but he was learning quickly that even he had limits for how long he could deal with her pretty face saying pretty things.

He removed both earrings, then heard a tiny pecking noise from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Marinette, turned away from him but not enough that he couldn't see the kiss she gave one of the earrings.

He could hear a pounding in his ears, clutching his earrings tight in his hands to feel them poking into his skin, just to make sure this was real.

—————

Luka honestly - perhaps foolishly - thought things would remain like that: with them being "officially" (whatever that meant) best friends and Marinette not feeling like she had to compete with it. She did take the hints that the gifts weren't necessary, and thus gift giving had returned to their usual back and forth.

He hadn't considered anything further than that.

One day, Juleka and Rose were preparing to go on a long walk together, off to a place they hadn't been before. Luka knew they'd be alright, but gave his sister a cheek kiss in a silent wish for luck and safety.

He felt a pair of eyes on him at that moment, but Rose was busy excitedly putting semi-random objects in her bag for the "trip." Also, what was the sudden sense of foreboding going up his spine?

Juleka and Rose waved goodbye and departed the Liberty, Ivan having already left a while ago to see Mylene. Knowing that left only one possibility, Luka glanced over his shoulder to see Marinette, sitting on an instrument case and looking his way.

Immediately, she dropped her gaze to her lap, pouting.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, walking over to her. "We're best friends. You can tell me anything if you want to."

"I-it's nothing," she insisted when it was clearly not nothing. "It makes sense. She's your sister, so it works differently."

Utterly lost, he merely blinked at her, mind racing to understand what had her sulking like she was. It was only when she brought a hand up, her fingertips idly skimming her cheek, that it registered.

"...You want me to kiss you on the cheek?" He sat down next to her, turning towards her as much as possible without their legs brushing.

She blushed, but answered noncommittally, "If you want?" Her voice lowered as she mumbled more to herself than him. "My skin probably isn't as nice anyway. I bet Juleka uses a lot of moisturizer."

Evasive as it was, her position was clear: he was doing something with Juleka that he wasn't doing with her, and thus she was "losing." She wanted him to do things with her that he'd do with anyone else, and maybe even more than that. In his personal opinion, that wasn't being best friends, but—

Well, point being, he was happy to "prove" that they were best friends if these were the standards to hold to.

He leaned over, pressing a light kiss to her cheek that was slightly longer than the one he'd given Juleka, just to be safe. Marinette still smelled faintly of strawberries and coconut, a scent he'd long grown fond of whenever she'd press herself against him in her eagerness to show him something.

He could also confirm that her skin was actually very nice.

She stiffened, mouth dropping open in surprise that he'd actually done it, then delight. A little giggle-hum came out of her as she rested her hands in her lap, looking absurdly pleased with herself.

Luka wasn't sure how she always did that. She was unpredictable, even when he felt he knew her, and was practically preening from a little kiss on the cheek. It was such an easy thing for him to do, but it meant something to her.

His role in the band as "leader" hadn't been self-designated, as he'd always been fine playing in the background if need be. He had no need for attention, fame, and the like. Marinette was different though, and not at all in a bad way.

She was making him center stage, showing him again how much impact his presence had. He didn't know how he'd gotten so lucky.

"Ah," Marinette began even though that wasn't really a word, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She was trying to be "cool" about all this, but that was hard to do when she swayed from side to side, her prior pouting swallowed up in her bliss. "You don't have to worry about the earrings, by the way."

"Hm?"

She pointed at one of his earrings - the ones she made for him - and clarified, "I'll make you another pair if you ever get bored of them."

He'd done such a good job at not chuckling at how cute she was, but that finally made him snort. She raised a brow at the reaction and he grinned, pointing out, "That won't work."

"Why not?" She leaned in, genuinely curious.

He reached up to the earrings, affectionately stroking the delicate lines of the flower she designed. "I won't get bored of them. If you make me another pair, I'll just get my ears pierced again."

"Wh—" She shook her head in disbelief, having expected a more practical answer like 'you shouldn't be making me more earrings on a whim.' "You can't do that!"

He shrugged unapologetically, because he absolutely could do that, and he would. Maybe he could make an appointment sometime soon just to prove it.

Shoulders tense in her defiance, she challenged, "And if I get you another pair after that?"

As if it were obvious - and it was to him - he replied easily, "I'll get them pierced again."

"You'll run out of room eventually!"

"I have other places I could get pierced."

She was looking deadly, comically serious about all of this. She brought a fist up to her mouth, her eyes darting all over him like there might be a big sign hanging on him, saying that he didn't mean it.

He wasn't sure what she was actually looking for, but when she made eye contact again, there was something familiar; something blazing behind her gaze.

With her other hand, she reached out and snagged his sleeve. Her pull was strong, bringing him close enough to where he could feel her little huff against his skin. Then and there, she kissed his skin back, right next to his lips.

It was like a tiny lightning bolt hitting him, sparks spreading out all along his face and down his neck. He couldn't tell if the warmth was from her or his face heating up.

Her hand left his sleeve and pressed against his chest, putting him at arm's length to her. Her own cheeks were red, but that fire in her eyes was still there: her competitiveness.

Looking away from him, she stood up quickly and shouted, "W-we'll see!"

Then she ran off further into the Liberty, as if to flee from the bold move. It didn't serve the purpose of actually running away - he lived there - nor did it clarify on what they would "see" about, but it at least gave him a moment to think.

He'd thought before that she hadn't had any competition to be his best friend, which was still true. He couldn't have imagined anyone who could've taken that place but her, so the only obstacle after that was saying it out loud as far as he was concerned, and they'd done that.

But now there was a second competition he hadn't been aware of, whether that was being the best best friend or whatever else she was aiming for. Regardless, she did have an opponent - him - and he'd seen how merciless she could be when it came to competitions.

One thing was for sure: he was in so much trouble.

[1d-brainrot]

I'm in bed next to my sleeping partner sobbing to ot5, so I think it's time I get this out.

This blog is new, but I am in no way new to the fandom. I grew up very poor and in unstable housing my entire life, so I really looked for comfort in other things - which lead to my love for music. I was 10 years old when the boys hit the US, and they changed my life.

What Makes You Beautiful immediately had me hooked and for the next several years - they were what got me through so much. Even the hardest days were easier when I got home to my poster covered walls and my CD player with the stack of 1D discs next to it.

When the boys broke up I was lost. I had never got to see them live - and beyond that my biggest escape was suddenly gone. But that didn't change too much for me in reality. I still listened, I still loved them, I never gave up.

October 16th, I was in a voice chat on discord with my longest online friend - the only Directioner I met in my childhood that never left my side. She got off call to go to bed, and within 20 minutes I heard the news. I remember just sitting there. Do I call and wake her up? Regardless she's waking up to the news.. I didn't know how to process it myself - how do I even say those words out loud? Is it real?

Over the last week, it's become more real. I went from being a passive fan of their solo careers to being so deep into the ot5 again that they're all I'm thinking about again. These boys were my first special interest. They supported me through my transition without even knowing it.

This fandom is something I wish I would've never drifted from; regardless of the break up. But, I think Liam would be so happy to see all of us together again, listening to the boys again. I think he would be proud of how much we still care. I hope wherever he is, he knows we're still here.

Liam,

Thank you. Thank you for saving my life so many times. Thank you for making me feel heard. Thank you for bringing me some of the most amazing friends and memories that I could've had. Thank you for being my escape. Thank you for being you.

I know life wasn't always kind to you. I know we weren't always kind to you. But I hope you know how much this world loved you. How we still love you. I hope you know that you have changed so many lives and so many people are going to cherish the memories you brought them for the rest of their lives.

We will tell our children about the things you did for us, the songs you played for us, and all the laughs we got to share with you by being in this fandom.

Directioners,

I love you. Rather you're new here or you've been here the whole time, I'm here for you. We're all here for you. Not a single one of you are going through this alone and I promise I will be right here for any of you who need someone.

We have gotten through some hard times as a fandom, but this is easily the hardest. I hope that for Liam, we can keep contact. I hope that this fandom's breath of life isn't temporary. We need each other.

Please drink water, try to sleep, and take this day by day. I am here for any of you, always.

[agaypanic]

could you please do a chase davenport x musical reader ?? she’s constantly asking him “how does this sound” and blessing his ears with her voice. sometimes even asking him to help her play something only for his intelligence to shine and play every instrument perfectly much to her surprise. thanks a bunch !!

His Little Songbird (Chase Davenport X Singer!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Chase is the first person you go to for thoughts on something new you’ve written. He’ll do anything to keep hearing your voice.

A/N: i feel like if chase was dating a musical person/singer, hed totally call them his songbird or something equally as cheesy and everyone would think it’s cringey but his s/o would be giggling and shit. Made reader like semi-famous (she’s going on a tour) bc i think thats fun

***

Bringing Chase along on your first tour was probably the best decision you ever made. Being the smartest man in the world, he could handle any technical problem you were having in a flash. He was so supportive, always making sure you took care of yourself and watching every show without ever getting tired of hearing the same set over and over again. Plus, having your boyfriend with you while you traveled around the country was way better than having to text or call whenever you wanted to talk to him.

But one of the coolest things about having Chase with you was that he absolutely loved being the first person you went to when a new song popped into your head.

“Hey, Chase?” You called out, scribbling notes and words in your little notebook. You were hanging out backstage before a sound check and decided to do some writing.

“Yeah?” He answered, appearing by your side almost instantly. He crouched down next to you, glancing at your notes before looking up at you curiously.

“What do you think of this?” You asked, tilting the notebook so he could get a better look. Being a fast reader, he looked at the page briefly before looking back at you.

“Good rhymes.” He said. “Wanna try it?” You nodded, and Chase left, coming back with a guitar and chair. He got settled, and you held the book out for both of you to see. Having bionic super smarts, Chase could easily play any instrument. So whenever you wanted to see how something would sound, he quickly volunteered to grab whatever you had in mind to play along. It sort of made you wish that he would be on stage with you, but Chase insisted that he was better helping you behind the scenes.

Chase started strumming the chords you had written down, waiting for you to start singing. When you did, he had to power through his playing. Chase was always taken aback by your beautiful voice. If you had to take a shot for every time he fawned over your singing, you’d probably get alcohol poisoning in a day.

When you were finished, you and Chase had a small conversation about things to fix, playing the song over and over until you were satisfied. Then, when you were called over to do a sound check, you kissed Chase and gave him the notebook to put in your bag.

Hours later, your concert was in full swing. Chase watched your performance from backstage like he did every show, phone recording the entire time despite it being the same songs. And then, when you were finished, you ran to him like you did every show, and he picked you up and swung you around while telling you how great you did. You knew he actually paid attention because every time, he talked about a different moment that he deemed his favorite of your performance.

While you got changed into something more comfortable in your dressing room, your phone buzzed. Seeing it was a post notification from Chase, you opened it and smiled.

He had posted pictures that he had taken in the past couple of days. It was all mainly you. The two of you at a cute little local cafe. You posing next to your vinyls and CDs being sold at a store you went to to pick up some snacks. Doing your sound check and performance.

The last picture might’ve been your favorite. You were alone on stage, doing an acoustic version of a song you had written for Chase for your first anniversary. Although all of your songs were amazing in his eyes, this one would forever be his favorite. In the picture, you were looking to the side. Not at the camera, but at Chase, giving him a big, loving smile.

You liked the picture and then looked down at the caption.

chase.davenport: my little songbird <3

[libraryofloveletters]

Chapters From An Old Book

Sebastian Vettel x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: alcohol and the consumption of, being cheesy, mentions of pregnancy and birth, britta being over seb’s nonsense, horner mention lmao, jenson being a little match maker, a trip down memory lane, mentions and references to sex, it’s giving anti ferrari for a slight second there, mark cameo + lance and sara cameo!, heart felt conversations, talks of his retirement. 

Word Count: 6.8k

Author’s Note: once again, i'm writing a flashback fic and are we surprised ? no. also shut up i’m emotional over this 35 year old german guy. -- based on this ask - one

italics are flashbacks! 

---- 

The door to the girls’ bedroom shut behind you quietly, you made your way down the stairs slowly so it wouldn't creak. 

“Sebastian?” You called into the empty house, he was somewhere around here. He had been ‘nesting’ so to speak; trying to figure out what’s to come next. 

This was a big decision and it had been weighing heavy on him. 

You can hear the thumping coming from the basement and a groan, you follow the sound down to find your husband sitting on the floor with a bunch of storage containers and boxes. 

"Hi honey,” he glances at you, patting the spot next to him. 

You join him on the floor. “What’s all this?” You ask, peeking into the box in front of him. He pulls out a stack of photos, held together with a rubber band. 

“Just going down memory lane.” 

Sebastian wasn't one for looking to the past, good nor bad; so you knew something was up if you found him down here. 

He was flipping through the pictures when you found a CD in the box. “What’s that?” He asks, you make your way over to put it into the DVD player you had in the basement. 

“No clue, but we're about to find out.” 

You hit play and return to Seb, the two of you looking at the screen.  It’s a copy of his first win, Monza 2008; there’s a few scratches on the CD because it jumps a bit but you glance at your husband. 

“That’s one of the greatest moments of my life.” He smiles, his eyes fixed on the screen. 

“Why only one of the greatest? Why not the greatest?” 

Sebastian turns to face you. “That might be the one that started it all, but I won four championships, and don't forget that I met you and we got married, and we have children. Those are the greatest moments of my life.” 

You can’t help but smile, your hand cupping his jaw, “I love you.” 

“I love you,” he smiles, leaning over to kiss you. 

He flips through some of the photos in his hand when he stops on one of them, showing you. “Remember this ?” 

The photo was of you and your best friend, Lia, squished in between Jenson and Sebastian outside of a club in Barcelona. 

“How could I not remember that?” You laughed, taking the photo from him and you glanced down at the picture. “That was the night we met.” 

Barcelona, 2009. 

The club was packed; drivers, crews and other partygoers squished into the building. Your best friend, Lia, pulls you onto the dance floor with her when her favourite song comes on. 

You weren't even supposed to be in Spain, you should be home studying for your midterms during your reading week. Lia’s parents were huge fans of F1 and her father’s side of the family came from money so they always attended races. Lia and Jenson met earlier in the season and hit it off, they weren’t officially a couple yet but they basically were. 

So when Jenson invited her along to the Spanish GP, of course she brought you along. Not that Jenson minded either, he was always a ‘the more the merrier’ type of guy. 

Jenson had done remarkably well that weekend, starting in pole and ended up winning the race with his teammate, Rubens, in second which gave Brawn a 1-2. 

You were trying to cram in a little studying; how boring of you honestly. 

Jenson and Lia had other plans, basically kidnapping you from your room and dragging you to the club with them to celebrate Jenson’s win. 

Lia and you were on the dance floor for a bit before she dragged you back up to the booth they had, finding Jenson talking to an extremely blonde guy who clearly caught your attention and your friend noticed as much. 

“That’s Sebastian,” she tells you, sitting next to you. You glance over at her, “okay so ?” 

Lia laughs, nudging you with her shoulder. “I can see the look on your face, you’re into him.” 

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes. 

Across from you two stood the two drivers, Sebastian kept glancing in your direction and Jenson noticed. He gives the younger driver a smack on the arm, “don’t look at my girlfriend like that.” He teases. 

Seb gives him a smile, taking a swing of his beer. “Who’s the girl with her?” 

Jenson follows Seb’s line of sight, “that’s y/n, her best friend.” The Brawn driver puts two and two together; even if he was currently drunk, he wasn't stupid. 

Sebastian was into you. 

“C’mon!” Jenson shouts, grabbing Sebastian’s arm, “I’ll introduce you two.” 

Sebastian tried to pull away from Jenson but it was too late. The two of them sitting next to you and Lia, you and Sebastian next to each other. “Hi,” you look over at him. 

He smiles, “hi.” 

“Y/n, this is Sebastian Vettel. Seb, this is y/n.” Jenson gives you two a quick introduction and he’s off to the dance floor with Lia, the two of them beyond drunk and shouting the lyrics to the song.  You and Sebastian sit there for a while, looking around a bit before you end up locking eyes. “So uh, what team do you race for ?” You ask, you didn’t even know this man and Jenson left you with him. “If you do race.” 

“I race with RedBull.” He says and you hum, nodding. “So you’re Mark’s teammate?” 

“Most people know him as my teammate.” 

“Oh, that’s cocky of you to say.” 

“It’s true,” he says, flashing you a smile. 

You laugh, shaking your head. “Whatever you say, Sebastian.” 

The two of you ended up sitting there, chatting for the rest of the night over a half full bottle of tequila. When it finally finished, you went looking for Lia and Jenson. 

No surprise that they were outside, making out. “Okay, break it up.” You push Jenson off of her.  He rolls his eyes but quickly smiles when he realizes you were with Sebastian. 

“Let’s take a picture!” Lia shouts, handing her camera off to some random guy standing outside the club. You get pulled by Lia into her side, Jenson to the left of her and Sebastian to your right with you and her squished in the middle. 

“Smile!” The man calls from behind the camera. 

All of you are messy, skin sweaty and sticky, there’s a weird orangish glow from the street light, a bunch of smiles and nothing but good memories behind the photo. 

“I can’t believe how cocky you were.” You nudged him with your shoulder and Seb rolled his eyes, “I was not cocky!” 

“Oh, they know him as my teammate,” you mocked your husband, earning a laugh from him. 

Sebastian doesn’t take you on, he knows you get enjoyment out of teasing him. You had always been that way,  even when you two had just started dating and kept things pretty low key, you still found ways to tease him. 

“Oh my god, look!” You showed him a picture.

Sebastian's hands rested on your butt in the picture, the man holding you up against him with your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms over his shoulders as you kissed him. 

It was taken by the Red Bull photographer at the time, just as Seb returned to the garage post championship win. 

Abu Dhabi, 2010. 

Lia and Jenson were still dating, you often joined her for races but you found yourself sneaking away from them. The nights when they offered for you to join them, you did one of two things. 

One, you joined them and headed back to the hotel earlier than they would; or two, you didn’t go at all. 

He had you wrapped around his finger and frankly, he was wrapped around yours. 

You found yourself spending more and more time with the German driver, hanging out with him after races, the two of you hidden away in a hotel room; away from all the nosy reporters and flashing cameras. 

Just the two of you in your little bubble. 

Of course, you and Lia sat in the McLaren garage; Jenson and Lewis now teammates and Sebastian still at Red Bull.

It was the final lap of the final race of the season, you were standing next to Lia, her hand in yours as she searched out for Jenson. The two of you followed out the mechanics and pit crew, climbing up on the fence to watch them cross the line. 

While they were all looking for the silver and red car, your eyes were fixed on one car; the navy blue car that just crossed the line. 

Your heart was pounding out of your chest, the screams and cheers of the RedBull crew just one garage over warmed your heart. Proud didn’t even begin to explain how you felt. 

The sound of Lia screaming pulled you back to reality.

Lewis crossed just behind Sebastian and Jenson followed which gave McLaren a double podium alongside the race winner. Lia pulled you down with her to watch the podium, Jenson blew her a kiss when he stepped up onto the podium and you looked over at your best friend, the girl watched her boyfriend like a love sick puppy; it was adorable. 

You were almost certain you had the same look on your face. You wiped away the tears you felt on your cheeks when you stared up at Sebastian, the smile on his face whilst the German anthem played was like none other. You were proud, he was proud, the team was proud. 

Proud as an understatement. 

Sebastian broke records tonight. 

He is the world champion. 

He’s also now covered in champagne and being hoisted up onto the shoulders of the two McLaren drivers as he does his signature one, have a laugh as he looks out into the thousands of people cheering him on. 

Nothing beats that feeling in that moment. 

Everyone was making their way back to the garages, attempting to pack up as quickly as possible so the party could begin. Lia had run off to congratulate Jenson, you followed behind her and gave him a quick hug. You stopped and congratulated Lewis as well before you stepped out. 

Despite it being nighttime, the heat sticked to your skin as you wandered over to the RedBull garage. You peeked in, the place packed with everyone who worked for them. 

“Y/n!” Mark shouts, hugging you when he sees you. “Hi!” You smiled, hugging the Aussie back. 

“I know you’re not here for me,” he laughs, an arm over your shoulder before he points towards the middle of the crowd. “He’s over there.” 

You smile at Mark, thanking him as you step through the crowd to find the new world champion. 

Sebastian’s back was turned to you, race suit hanging off his hips and you can see how his fireproofs were soaked; champagne or sweat? Probably both. 

You touched his back softly and he turned, he recognized your touch faster than you expected. "You,” he smiles when he turns to face you. His arms wrapping around you. Sebastian picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist and the stickiness of his fireproofs cling to your bare legs. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you tell him, a hand on his cheek as you smile at the man. 

“Thank you,” Sebastian tells you, holding you in the middle of the Red Bull garage like you two were the only two in there. The cameras are constantly flashing and neither of you care, Sebastian’s hands rest on your ass as he holds you against him and you lean into your boyfriend. 

He kisses you; it catches you off guard.

Not that he kissed you but that he kissed you there. 

Publicly announcing to the world that you two were a thing.

He lets you down, his arms still wrapped around you and yours wrapped around him. “Champion of the world.” You laughed in disbelief. 

You were 100% sure in Sebastian and his skills but it felt so unreal. 

He nods, smiling. “Champion of the world.” He says, leaning down to kiss you again. 

“I never heard the end of it, they teased me all the time.” Sebastian complained and you laughed. “I know, I told them to tease you.” 

The man rolls his eyes, something he did often in your presence. Not that either of you took it seriously. You were flipping through a few more pictures from another box while Sebastian re-stacked those into the box they came from when you found another picture. 

You show your husband, “I always wondered where that shirt went.” He says, eyeing the RedBull polo you had on in the picture. 

“Forget the shirt, do you remember how pissed Britta was?” 

Sebastian laughs, “yeah but it was worth it.” 

He pulls you into him, kissing you once more. The picture falls beside the two of you onto the floor as he pulls you onto his lap. His hands sliding down to rest on your ass, mimicking the picture on the floor. 

Brazil, 2011. 

Interagos. 

The track where magic happens as you had deemed it.

It's the final race of the season and it’s race day. 

Sebastian wanted to head in extra early, he needed to go over race strategies with his team and you were trying to get him to relax. You two are holding hands as you walk in, cameras flashing and people shouting for him as you pass by. Seb has got on his usual red Bull polo and a pair of shorts, sunglasses pushed up in messy hair. You've got on a little black skirt and one of his RedBull polos with his name on the back and number one in the middle. 

“Seb, baby. Don’t stress yourself out. Your hair will fall out and you’ll look like an egg, but not even a cute one.” You joked and it fell flat. 

Your boyfriend looked worried and you weren’t even sure why. He stopped you in the middle of the paddock, turning to face you. “Do you think I'll win?” 

“Sebastian, I know you’ll win. Do you need me to tell you the stats so you stop asking?” You laughed but his eyes met yours and you sigh softly; there’s security in numbers. 

“You’re currently at 374 points going into this race. Jenson is behind you with 255 points. Regardless of if you win or if you DNF, you will be world champion this year. Don’t stress yourself out.” Your hand rests on your chest, looking at him. 

Sebastian nods, sighing. It’s almost like you can see the tension on his shoulders. “One hundred and nineteen.” You say to him and Seb’s brows furrow. 

“119 -- that’s how many points you have over Jenson.” 

Your boyfriend smiles, pulling you into him. His hand rests on your ass and you just know the stance is like tossing blood to sharks, you can hear the shouting and feel the cameras flashing behind you. Sebastian kisses you, “thank you.” He mumbles against your lips and pulls you a little closer. 

This isn’t the first time they’ve caught you and him like this. You had sorta become the IT couple; that’s what happens when you’re dating the world champion. If the photographers weren’t hassling you two, it was Lewis and Jenson with their girlfriends. 

You and Sebastian had become quite the staple couple in the paddock, always together. Not that you clung to him, Seb always hid from press duty by hanging out with you. 

He’d stop what he was doing to pass by just to get a kiss from you.

Sebastian was cheesy like that. 

The hand on your ass pulls you even close, the skirt hitching up a little too high to be suitable for work. Nothing except for your thigh was exposed but imagine the scandal it would be. 

Or it had already become. 

You and Sebastian didn’t have a care in the world, he was a shoo in for the championship and he did win that year. Despite his teammate, Mark, winning the race, Sebastian was far enough ahead that he won regardless. 

It wasn't until after that Britta caught wind of the scandalous picture going around. 

She gave you both a lecture about behaving yourselves in the paddock to which Seb just laughed and you nodded along, trying to listen to the woman but between all the championship press, the picture got lost and all was well in the world. 

You get up and Seb’s eyes follow you, “where are you going?” He asks, watching as you sit in front of a storage container you pulled out of the closet. 

“I think I still have that shirt, I know I saw it somewhere.” 

Digging through the container, you find the shirt and pull it out. You hold it up against yourself. “I don’t think it’ll fit now but I knew I had it.”  

Sebastian smiles and you two tumble through a few more boxes on your own. You reach into the container and pull out something that feels like papers. You thought it was more photos you hadn't found albums for but turns out it wasn’t. 

In fact, it was a manual for a toaster oven. 

“What is that?” Sebastian calls, you toss it over to him. 

“A toaster oven?” He reads the pamphlet, flipping through it. “Why do we have this?” 

You try to think of how that ended up in the storage container and it finally pops into your head. 

Monaco, 2012. 

"Where should I put this?” He asks, carrying in a box into the kitchen. 

You and Sebastian have just moved into your first place together. It was day 6 of unpacking because you two kept stopping because you were either too lazy and couldn’t be bothered or Sebastian’s wandering hands caused you two to end up in bed. 

Sebastian holds up the box to show you, “that’s not mine.” You tell him, brows furrowed. 

“It’s not mine either.” He says, “why would I own..” he peeks over the box to read it, “a toaster oven?” 

You notice an envelope taped onto the side when Seb puts the box down. You pull it off and open the envelope. There’s a card with a note inside of it. 

‘Woman at the store said this was a good thing to get, so enjoy it! 

xo, JB and Lia.’ 

“That’s the most random thing I've ever gotten as a gift. We already have a toaster,” you tell Sebastian, showing him the card. 

Sebastian was already tinkering with it, plugging it in as he unwrapped the plastic around it. “How does it work?” He asks you, opening the little door. 

“I’d assume it's just a toaster but like.. oven style? I don’t know, let me see.” You check through the box for a pamphlet. 

Sebastian doesn’t wait. He sticks a bagel in there and hits 4 different settings whilst you read over the pages of the pamphlet. The toaster oven starts to smoke and the kitchen smells like burnt bread. 

“Seb!” You laughed, opening the window whilst fanning the thing. Sebastian unplug the toaster oven and opens the little door. The bagel was now black and hard like a rock. 

He holds up the bagel, it clicks in his brain that it’s hot and the circular piece of bread falls to the floor. “Hot!” He flings his hand around and you chuckle, grabbing his hand and blowing on it before kissing it. 

“Better?” You ask and the man puckers up, leaning towards you. Rolling your eyes, you give your boyfriend a kiss. 

Sebastian smiles, satisfied. “Better, though I don’t think we can eat the bagel.” 

“Jense and Lia sent us a toaster oven when we moved into our first place,” you remind him. His mouth forms an O, tossing the manual into another box as you rejoin him by his side. You lean into your husband’s side, his arm comes around to rest over your shoulders. 

You were a picture hoarder, you couldn't bring yourself to let go of photos so they all sat in your basement. There had to be thousands of pictures spanning over the last 15 years. 

There’s a few stacks of pictures from races and what not, some from his championships and from other races as well. From your vacations to the kids’ first day at school, family trips, random pictures taken throughout the house. Not all of them were taken by you. The photographers always gave you a big stack of pictures at the end of the season so you kept them all. You couldn’t bare to sort through them and get rid of some. 

Sebastian was always looking forward but you loved to look back.  

There’s one in particular that caught his eye. “I didn’t know you had a copy of this,” he shows you the picture. You had the same one framed in your bedroom; Sebastian was leant over and kissing your stomach, your hand on his cheek and you smiling at him. 

Germany, 2013. 

Sebastian’s home race, you were beyond nervous. Not like it was any different than before. 

His focus was on winning. 

It always was. 

“Are you okay?” Mark rests a hand on his back when he finds you at the back of the garage. You glance over your shoulder, looking back at the man. “Fine, just nervous.” 

“He’ll be fine. Well he won’t be.. when I win.” Mark says and you laugh, “okay Mark, whatever you say.” 

Sebastian was walking back into the garage when Mark lets you go, Seb eyeing the two of you for a moment as you walk over. Your boyfriend wraps an arm around you, pulling you against him. He was looking behind you and at Mark and you smack his arm softly, the man looking at you now. 

“What?” He asks. 

“I have to tell you something.” You whisper to him and Seb pulls you off to the side of the garage, the two of you hidden away by a wall. Sebastian looks at you, “what’s up baby?” 

You had to laugh at the phrase, the word making you giggle. 

Seb eyes you, “what?” 

You blurt it out, there was no other way to say it. “I’m pregnant.” 

Sebastian was quiet, your eyes fixed on his face, trying to read for any sort of reaction. Finally he says, “you are?” 

You nod, looking at him, still waiting for a reaction. Sebastian picks you up and spins you around, your arms over his shoulders as you laugh, the man putting you down before pulling you into a kiss. 

A hand rests on his cheek, “I take it that you’re happy ?” 

“So happy.” He says, his forehead rests against yours. 

It was still early, you decide to keep it to yourself for the time being. You were only a month along so there was no need to make a big deal yet. “Be careful, okay?” You tell him, kissing him. 

“Always.” 

You give him a hug, wishing him good luck before he walks off to get ready for his race. You were settling in beside the mechanics when Britta came looking for you. “What’s wrong?” You ask her, she shakes her head. 

“Nothing, he’s asking for you.” 

You follow her to the grid, your boyfriend already in the car when you got there. You bend down, looking at your boyfriend. “What’s wrong love?” 

Sebastian pats the side of his helmet, they were minutes away from lights out and  your boyfriend was asking for a kiss. You laugh, leaning over to kiss the side of his helmet where his cheek would be. 

There’s a little red kiss mark on the side of his helmet and you pat his head, Seb reaches up and gives your hand a squeeze before letting you go. 

You and Britta get back to the garage just in time for lights out. Lewis was on pole with Seb in P2 and Mark in P3. Your fingers were crossed hoping your boyfriend can fight his way into P1 over the course of the 60 laps. 

Within the first corner, Sebastian was able to gain the lead and hold it for the entirety of the race, coming across the checkered flag victorious. 

Everyone was pushed up against the gate, looking up at the German driver on the podium, the smile on his face shines brighter than the sun; nothing beats winning his home race.

The man winked at you, tipping the champagne bottle in the direction of the team before taking a swing. 

Once everyone returned to the garage, your boyfriend found you the moment he got back. You were by the pit wall, talking to Christian when he hugged you from behind, swinging you around. His skin sticky and wet, the race suit soaking the back of your shirt. 

“Congratulations, baby.” You smile, turning to face him when he puts you down. 

At this point, you two are in the middle of the pit line, his hands resting on your lower back when he leans down and kisses your stomach. 

Of course, the photographers around were eating this up. Sebastian kissing your stomach points towards one thing and one thing only; you were expecting.

“Ted said that’s when he knew we were in love.” You tell Seb, looking at the picture. 

Sebastian laughs, “he told me the same thing. Said before was puppy love and this was real. Having a kid always makes things real.” 

“Oh so we were fake before?” You joked and Seb rolled his eyes, “that was a terrible joke.” 

“You’re terrible at jokes, you started telling dad jokes before I was even pregnant!” 

“Whatever.” 

There’s a few more pictures from that race in the stack, you come across a picture of him waiting in the garage after practice. You studied the pattern on the matte black helmet that sat on top of his head like a mushroom from Mario. The gold ran along the sides and the top, the RedBull insignia stood out against the black and gold in a shimmery red. There’s a single red and black stripe across the top, blended in with the gold to make up the German flag; something Sebastian almost always worked into his helmet designs. 

“Do you still have this one?” You ask your husband, showing him the picture. 

Sebastian gets up and pulls a few more boxes from the closet you had, opening a few before he pulls out a large dust bag, you see the smile on his face when he peeks into the bag. 

He pulls out the black and gold helmet, showing you. “It’s one of my favourites.” 

“Mine too.” 

Sebastian sets the helmet down on the table, looking back into the box before pulling out something. “Is this yours?” He holds up the blue dress, holding it against himself. 

“Looks like it’d fit you.” You smile, earning a chuckle from him. “Yeah, says maternity on the tag.” 

You try to think back to when you would have worn that and it pops into your head, making you laugh out loud. 

“What?” Your husband looks at you, confused as to why you’re laughing by yourself. 

You take a breath, regaining your composure. “We went to headquarters after the last race, when I was pregnant with Meg, remember ?” 

Sebastian tosses the dress at you. “You gave me a heart attack that day.” 

“Please, I was preparing you for fatherhood.” 

England 2013.

Today you were officially 26 weeks pregnant, which was roughly around  6 months. You were under strict orders by your OB that you are not allowed to fly anymore. So the flight back to England would be the last for the next little while. 

You had begged your OB to give you the clearance to join Sebastian for the last race of the season and she did; you joined him for the Brazilian Grand Prix and you watched him win his 4th championship. 

Nothing made you more proud than seeing him up on the podium. 

After the stop in England for a few days, Sebastian would be driving you two to Paris for a few days of relaxation before he drives you two back to Monaco to wait for the birth of your baby girl. It was a seven hour drive to Paris from England and then another nine hours from Paris to Monaco. Your mother-in-law and OB tried to talk you into staying in England and having the baby there but you were dead set on having the baby in Monaco like intended. 

Sebastian gave in to you because you had him wrapped around your finger. 

He held your hand as you two walked into the building, they were doing a little thing to thank the team and to show off the new trophies they brought home over the season. 

“Oh good, you’re here!” Britta calls, walking over. 

“Sebastian, you’re needed in the head office. Y/n, come with me.” The woman was already pulling you away from your boyfriend and you glanced over your shoulder at him, he just smiled and waved you off. 

The team had put together a little basket for the baby; Well wishes attached to the baby clothing in the basket. Shirts, shorts, sweaters, shoes, hats, all in various sizes and the bull embroidered into all of them with different variations of the RedBull logo. 

You thank the team, walking around the building with Britta for a bit as she showed you some of the things in the front foyer. You were drinking some water and a bit of it spilt on the floor when you cracked the bottle open, the water splattered on your dress but you didn’t bother drying it out because it was water, it’d dry itself out.  

“Babe!” Sebastian shouts, running towards you and you turn to face the man, confused as to why he looked so full of concern. Christian was right behind him when Sebastian reached for you and you were really confused now. 

You glance between the men and Britta, “what?” 

“Did you water break? Do we need to go?” Sebastian asks, looking down at the floor and your dress. 

You follow his line of sight and put two and two together. “Oh!” You laughed, Britta realized what he was freaked about and started laughing. 

“I spilled some water, it’s fine.” You wave him off. Christian peeks out from behind Seb, “so just to be clear, you’re not in labour ?” 

“No, I'm not.” You laughed. 

“God, both you and Christian were mortified, so worried that you didn’t let me do anything for the rest of the afternoon.” 

“We were just worried,” he pushes some of the boxes into the closet again. “It's possible to go into labour that early.” He tells you. 

“Possible but unlikely.” 

Sebastian rolled his eyes, “that’s why Christian said you aren’t allowed to visit while you’re pregnant anymore.” 

You huff, arms folded across your chest as you looked at the man across the room. “I didn’t get pregnant for the rest of your RedBull days though.” 

“Surely you remember the next time you got pregnant,” he says, making his way over to you. The twinkle of mischief in his eyes says that he fully well remembers how you ended up pregnant the second time. 

“Yeah, whose fault was that?” 

Sebastian drops down next to you, pulling you by the chin to look at him. “Mine.” 

“Glad you know.” 

Hawaii, 2018. 

Things were good in terms of the championship. Sebastian was second in the standings going into the break and you knew he needed a break, physically and mentally. 

He had a habit of being hard on himself but he was always laughing and smiling, no one ever noticed that something was off. You were his wife, you knew him like the back of your hand. You talked him into taking a little vacation, just the two of you. 

Megan was with your parents while you two spent a week in the sun, trying to relax and decompress.

It had been the last three days just rolling around in bed. Since you two have checked in, you've barely left the room to eat, even then it was just going to the door to get the room service. It had been nothing but rolling around in bed, room service and piles of clothes scattered throughout the room; you weren't even sure why you bothered to get dressed at this point. 

“C’mon,” you groan, pulling your husband by the arm. “Let’s go to the beach.” 

Sebastian sits up, pulling you to him. You’re standing between his legs as you look down at him and you feel his hands on your ass, pinching the exposed flesh. The little green bikini didn’t cover much, not that he minded. 

“We only have a few days left, we should do something other than have sex, Sebastian.” 

“Why? The sex is great.” He pats your ass, making you roll your eyes. 

“Sebastian, c’mon. Just a few hours.” You pull away from him but he grabs your hand, and you’re right back where you were moments ago. 

“Once more,” he mumbles against your stomach, kissing up to your chest. Your hand tangled in his short blonde curls as you pulled his head back so you could look at him. “Then we can go.” He says, smiling. 

He was so handsome, he knew you were wrapped around his finger. 

“Fine,” you sigh, letting him pull you into bed again, his hands making quick work of the strings on your bikini. “Just once more.” You tell him, your tone is serious. 

Sebastian nods, “just once more.” 

“It’s late,” you say, getting up. “We’ll clean up tomorrow.” Your hand stretches out for his and he gets up, the two of you making your way up the stairs and onto the first floor before making one more check of the house, double checking all the doors and windows are locked. 

Sebastian’s voice catches your attention as you head up the stairs towards the bedroom. 

“I wish I could’ve done more, with Ferrari.” He says, following you up the stairs and you hum. 

You knew your husband’s feelings towards the red team, it broke your heart to think about how they made him feel about himself. 

Like he had failed. 

“If I had won a championship with them-” “You have four, Seb.” You remind him before he gets the chance to spiral. 

“I know,” he sighs, “I had set out to win one with him and I feel like I failed. I should have won.” 

“You didn’t fail, Sebastian.” You turn on the step to face your husband, holding his face in your hands. “They failed you if anything.” 

The sadness on his face makes you want to light a match and toss it at the factory but you hold back the urge to say the bitter words that come to mind. 

“You are a four time world champion, Sebastian. Things don’t always go to plan but you have a legacy, you left behind a mark that will always be there, regardless of how it got there. I will always support you and always love you but don’t you dare, even for a second, think you failed; because you never did.” 

Sebastian kisses the palm of your hand, “thank you, for everything.” 

“No need to thank me, baby.” 

You two make it upstairs and Seb checks on the girls while you head into the bedroom. You were changing when your eyes caught the green frame hung on your bedroom wall. 

There’s a collage of pictures in the large green frame from the first official Aston Martin pre season photoshoot. 

England, 2020. 

You watched as your husband posed for the camera, both you and Britta holding back laughter from how uncomfortable Sebastian looked. 

He was sitting on a chair in his race suit, foot propped up on a tyre. “Mrs. V,” the photographer calls, “go and join him.” 

You shook your head, “no, no. I’m good.” 

“Oh c’mon. I’ll send these to you plus, I've got some time to kill until Lance gets here.” He nods towards Seb and you give in after Britta nudges you off to him. 

How ironic that you just so happened to wear a green sundress that morning.

“Where do you want me?” You ask, looking at the photographer. “Uh - try the tyre. If it's uncomfortable, we can move.” 

Sebastian moves his foot and you sit on the tyre, fixing your dress before your husband leans in his seat to rest his chin on your shoulder, your hand coming up to rest on his cheek. The two of you are smiling and the camera flashes a few times. 

“Give us a kiss!” The photographer shouts and you laugh, Sebastian shakes his head. “Come on! It’ll be cute!” He shouts from behind the camera and Sebastian looks at you, waiting for your go ahead. You smile and he takes it a yes. 

He pulls the hat he had on, off before leaning in to kiss you but at the last second, just as his lips meet yours, he holds the hat up and blocks the two of you from the camera. 

You can hear the photographer laugh and your eyes meet Seb’s. “I love you.” He whispers. “I love you.” You smile. 

Lance and Sara arrive a few moments later and the photographer gets a few group shots. You and Sara lean over your boyfriend and husband’s shoulders, one of the 4 of you standing together, and he even manages to talk Lance and Seb into giving you two their race suits for a photo, posing back to back, Charlie’s angels’ style. 

Seb’s hand touches your back as he walks in and you smile at him, joining him in bed. He looks over at you when he gets into bed with you. 

“Do you think I did the right thing?” He asks, ever so cryptic. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Retirement; did I do the right thing?” 

Sebastian had announced his retirement the weekend before summer break and you supported him 110%. You knew he had been thinking about it since the end of his Ferrari days. 

“You’re the only one that can answer that question.” You tell him and he hums, looking at you. You take that as your chance to go on; “but I know you love this sport. It’s given you so much and you put everything into becoming the driver you are and have always been. You are formidable, my love.” 

Sebastian lived and breathed racing. It was in his blood, his DNA; it’s the way he was wired. It meant everything to him and you knew that. 

Anything he wanted to do, anything he set his mind to, you stood by him and supported him as much as humanly possible. 

The retirement decision was weighing heavy on him. You knew his feelings once he joined Aston Martin. He loved the team, they gave him his happiness back, he was at ease. 

Sebastian had always looked towards the future then looking back and unlike you, he knew when it was time to go. The time was now. 

He felt like he needed to step aside to make room for other drivers, he had gotten 15 amazing years from racing, and while it was his whole life, life also keeps moving regardless of what you want. There was more than just racing in his life now; he had a wife, kids, a family. They deserved the love and focus he put into racing. 

There was more to life, and that he was missing out on you and kids’ lives by being away so much.

Of course he will always be a champion to you, and to millions of people out there. 

“It’s time.” He says softly, reaching over to hold your hand. “My life is here.” 

You smile, nodding. Sebastian chuckles, his own internal dialogue making him laugh. “Maybe I'll make a comeback in a few years, when I get bored; like Michael or Kimi, or Fernando.” 

“Maybe you could take Christian up on that offer to rejoin RedBull hm?” You laughed. 

“You'll be the first one I talk to if I do it.” He says, smiling at you. 

Nudging him with your shoulder, you say; “the car’s a fricking rocket ship, you’d definitely win number five.” 

“Five championships for driver number five does have a nice ring, doesn’t it?” 

“It does.” You smile, leaning over to kiss your husband. 

----

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[ashwhowrites]

Famous daddy part 5

The series has come to an end. I want to thank everyone for the love and support on this fic. I know the parts came at random times but everyone was so patient <3 I hope you enjoy the final part.

Zack was calling call after call. Eddie knew he'd be pissed and he knew Zack would do anything he could to make Eddie regret ever crossing him.

But the small interaction with Y/N gave him all the hope he needed.

~~~

Y/N didn't know what to think. Eddie stayed true to his word and ended his career. A career that he was so desperate for, yet she meant more. She wanted to be cautious, he burned her once and he could easily burn her again. But he publicly left his label, and no management would ever take that lightly.

She couldn't ignore the part of her that was happy. She still loved him, and she knew that wouldn't go away overnight. Knowing that he was fighting for her meant something. It was easy to be away from him when she pretended she hated his existence, but he was digging himself back into her life. She knew if she hated him, she could let him go in a heartbeat.

As the world lost their minds over the news, Eddie felt like his head was more clear than ever. He didn't waste a second to send her a location to meet at.

She wanted to pretend that she fought the idea of seeing him, but she didn't. She grabbed her keys and raced out the door. She ended things, she took time away, and she avoided all contact with him. And did she heal? Not at all. Did she miss him the whole time and wish there was a way to feel better again? Definitely.

She walked through the park, her eyes already catching him on a bench. His head was down, his legs shaking as his elbow rested on it. She could sense his nerves from miles away.

Flowers next to him, a cup of coffee, and a small device.

"I'm here, now what?" She asked, now standing in front of him. His head snapped up. She gasped at his red eyes, like he'd been crying for hours.

"sit please?" He asked, grabbing the flowers and coffee, and handing them over to her as she sat.

She kept the flowers in her lap but sipped on the warm drink. A smiled as he remembered her order from their first date.

"I want to start with I'm so sorry. I know I've apologized and apologized. But I still feel like I need to say it. I made you look like a fool and I regret that so much. I never should have agreed to a shortcut. I should have made it on my own. I don't deserve anything I have, because the only thing I want to deserve is you. You are all that matters to me. Not the music, the fame, and the money. I wish I did everything differently. I wish I never said yes or was man enough to end it when I realized I fucking loved you."

She took in his words but her heart was still spiraling. His career was over, no doubt about that. He proved that she meant more, but was it too late?

"I understand if you never want to see me again. Tell me to fuck off for good, and I promise I will. But I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me. That I'm too late and I'll never get to make this up to you." He sniffled through his words, his head facing her as he stared at her.

She got the courage to lift her head. Her wet eyes met his. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He looked so torn and tired. Selfishly she hoped it was because he lost her and not his music.

"How can I believe you?" She asked.

Eddie grabbed the small device between them.

"A CD of every single song I recorded about you, me, and us. Every single one." He handed it over but she was confused.

"what do I do with this?" She asked

"Break it, set it on fire, run it over with your car. Anything you want. I moved everything to that CD, nothing was left on any devices for my old management to get. I won't make a single dime off of you. Not anymore." He explained.

Y/N appreciated the gesture. A part of her wanted to play it, hear what he had to sing about her.

"Was it real? Did it feel real when you recorded it? Or was it money grabs?" She asked. Either answer would hurt her.

"All real. Everything I felt for you was real. The only unreal part was the beginning. But I fell for you instantly and I didn't write the songs just to make money from it. It was everything I was feeling. You became my muse and it was so easy to write about falling in love with you." He explained.

"Thank you. I'll take it and think about everything. It's going to be hard to act like it didn't happen or that you didn't break my heart. But stupidly enough, I miss you and it kills me to be away from you." She admitted, standing up as she grabbed the flowers, CD, and drink.

"Take all the time you need. Thank you for listening." Eddie smiled.

She gave a small nod and walked away.

Eddie watched until she disappeared. Now all he had to do was wait.

~~~

Y/N plugged her headphones into her computer, the disc spinning inside the laptop as Eddie's voice filled her ears.

Over fifty songs, all just for her. The way he had so much emotion in his voice, conflicted with her. She could hear the moments when he smiled, his voice picking up when he replayed a memory. The more she listened and made it down the list, she sensed a change in his direction.

All the songs now were apologies. His voice cracked throughout the lyrics, and his sniffles mixed in when he got to the end. His voice was powerful and determined.

He took the blame for everything, never once begging for sympathy. He sang about how he deserved every bad thing coming his way.

She was suffering, and he clearly was suffering.

They both missed each other and loved each other.

He did everything she asked. He left the music behind and is focused on fixing things with her. She felt like she was the most important thing to him.

She figured one more chance wouldn't hurt. If she got burned twice by him, she'd learn her lesson and never forgive him again. Right now she could forgive him, and start a new relationship that's based on real words and love. She could go slow and start over. And maybe a happy ending.

~~~

It's been a week since he saw her and he was losing his mind. He wanted to be patient and give her all the time and space she needed. But it was killing him not to know where her head was at.

He almost felt like he stopped breathing when her name popped up on his phone. He answered it as fast as he could.

"Hello."

"Hey Eddie, I've been thinking about us. And I was wondering if you wanted to go out for coffee. For old time's sake, maybe on a first date?"

Eddie felt the biggest smile on his face as her words traveled over the phone. His heart raced and he could feel the excitement bubbling in his stomach.

"YES! Yes, a first date sounds amazing." He rushed out, and a huge sigh of relief passed through his lips.

"How about tomorrow at three?"

"I'll be there, thank you."

"Bye Eds." She smiled.

"Bye Y/N."

He waited until she hung up before he screamed in excitement. His phone was in his hand as he jumped on his couch. Thanking God over and over. Thanking her over and over. Thanking anyone who helped him get a second chance.

"EDDIE! IM STILL HERE!" Y/N laughed over the line.

He froze when he heard her voice, collapsing on his couch as he put the phone to his ear.

"shit, sorry." He panted out.

"All good. I'll see you tomorrow."

This time the phone went dead.

She knew she made the right decision as she felt her stomach flutter again. He sounded so relieved and happy about her decision. He wanted her and she wanted him.

It will take time to build up the trust again. She's going to be cautious with her heart heading into a relationship with him again. But she believed he'd fix all the parts he broke. She believed he was determined to make it work, and that convinced her enough.

Tags!

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[daydreamgoddess14]

The Escape Artist - Chapter 5

This one gave me a bit of a headache, I knew what I wanted but it just wouldn't cooperate! But hey ho and here we are. Enjoy 😘

Masterlist

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4

Taglist: @theskytraveler @moonmaiden1996 @acrackintheteacup @succulentthief

It had only taken a few days of lifts to and from school for Clover to fully assert herself as River's passenger Princess. Though Ella begged her not to, she'd clamber over seats, rifle through his CDs and play with the aircon settings. The strangest thing to Ella though, was that he didn't seem to mind at all. It was a stark reminder of just how much interference she'd been running for years between Clover and Eddie - always trying to keep Clover quiet and well behaved so she didn't incur her father's wrath. Clover had, on the surface, coped incredibly well with the recent events but the cracks were beginning to show. 

“Clo, River's outside can we please get a move on?”

“I don't want to wear this top, I want the one without buttons.”

“This is the only one I have for now, I'll get one without buttons as soon as I can.”

“It's not fair. You made me leave all my things behind.”

“I know I did. I'm sorry.”

“I want my pink headband.”

“I'll add it to the list,” Ella sighed. “Now please, let's go.” 

Clover barged past Ella and bounded out of the front door, straight into the passenger seat. Ella could see River talking to Clover who stared straight ahead with her arms crossed and a frown firmly in place. She slid into the backseat behind Clover. “Morning.”

“Hey, you both OK?”

“Fine,” they mumbled in unison. He caught Ella's eye in the rearview mirror and she shrugged. Clover reached out to turn the radio station over and then slumped back in the seat without another word.

Outside the school, River raised his hand in greeting to Coe who nodded. He leaned against the low wall surrounding the school. Ella got out first and held Clover's door open. “C'mon Clo, let's move.”

“I don't want to go,” she kept her arms crossed. Ella sighed. 

“Please, babe? River and I have got to get to work and -”

“Can't I come too?”

“Not today. Look, JK is already waiting for you.”

“Muuuum,” Clover whined miserably. 

“Clo, enough. I need to get you into school.”

“Why? You think he's gonna come and kidnap me?” She whinged and suddenly appeared eighteen to Ella, not eight. She took a deep breath and turned away from the car, rubbing her temples. She felt a sting as the tender skin around her cut was pulled and pushed, and drew her hand away to find she'd opened the cut again. 

“Y’know what, Clo? I have no idea. I just want to get you inside with Coe where I know you're safe and then I want to go and find another plaster for my head, ok? Let's go now , please.” She stressed. 

Inside the car, Clover reached to the backseat and into Ella's bag to pull out a tissue. As she got out of the car, she pushed it into Ella’s hand and marched towards the main school doors without saying goodbye. Coe followed closely behind. 

“She hates me,” Ella said with her head in her hands once she got back into the car. 

“No she doesn't.”

“She does. I've taken her away from her dogs, her favourite toys, her house . She's eight, this might as well be the end of the world to her. She's got Coe sitting in her classroom making her the school weirdo, we can't go anywhere, or do anything. All I've done is swap one prison for another.” 

She turned to face him and he took the tissue from her hand and held it up against the cut with a small amount of pressure. 

“You know that's not true. Hold this,” he waited for her hand to hold the tissue against her forehead and let go so he could continue driving. 

“It's her birthday at the weekend.” She said quietly. “I don't know what to do, River? Happy birthday kiddo, everything is shit and we can't go anywhere.”

“So let's do something?”

“Don't be daft. Lamb is currently wasting all these resources on us, I feel awful having you ferry us around everywhere.”

“I want to help - they all do. You know how miserable it is in that place, at least we can feel like we're actually doing something.” He split his attention between talking to her and the morning traffic building up. 

“She has taken a shine to you all,” Ella admitted softly. “She thinks Shirl and Louisa are just so cool . I'd be jealous if she weren't right.” He parked up and leaned over to move her hand and check whether the bleeding had stopped again. 

“They're alright, I suppose.”

“Don't worry,” she teased, “I'm pretty sure you're still the favourite.” 

“I’d better be,” he said smugly, “I don’t see anyone else letting her listen to Capital radio.”

“You’ll regret giving her radio privileges, I’ve downloaded a couple of Taylor Swift albums for her birthday.” She couldn’t help but smile as his face fell at the news. “Prepare yourself for car karaoke,” she warned happily, shutting the car with him still inside.

She hadn’t managed to sit down with a cup of tea before the ceiling shook unceremoniously above her.

“Your turn,” River told her pointedly. 

“It’s definitely yours.”

“You think you’re playing Taylor Swift in my car? Get up the stairs, Cole.” Ella felt herself flush at his words but if he’d noticed then he didn’t let on, already staring at a screen filled with ancient police e-fits. She made her way to the top floor, the pull in her ribs had noticeably eased off over the weekend.

“Cole.”

“Lamb,” she replied warily, there were two police officers with him in the office.

“These upstanding gentlemen have some questions for you. Now, I can clear off downstairs and bother Cartwright for a bit, or I can stay here, or I can summon one of the other dipshits. Which would you prefer?” Ella’s hands trembled.

“Stay. Please?” He nodded once and leaned back in his chair, feet up on the desk.

“Ms Cole, we’ve been contacted by your husband, Edward Cole? He’s raised claims of assault and kidnapping.” She said nothing, her mouth agape. Lamb tapped his desk with a grubby socked foot.

“Might be a good time to start talking,” he suggested.

“You’ve got to be joking,” she looked at Lamb, incredulous. “I… I’m sorry, he’s said what , exactly?” 

“That you knocked him out with a blunt instrument -”

“It was half a bottle of wine.”

“And kidnapped his daughter.”

“Our daughter. Did he also tell you he’s only been out of prison for a couple of months? Did he tell you why I hit him with a bottle and took our daughter?” Ella asked, not bothering to disguise her anger.

“Well, that’s why we’re here. To follow up.”

“Oh! You want to follow up now, do you? Amazing how you didn’t want to follow up everytime I called anonymously with information about his business activities. Will you be following up on that?”

“If there’s anything else that warrants looking into, then obviously we will -”

The door opened a crack and River peered in before being ushered in further by Lamb. He went over to the desk and bent to speak directly to Lamb without interrupting.

“Something that warrants looking into?” Ella asked, her volume rising. She untucked her t-shirt from her jeans and lifted the hem to the level of her bra, exposing the bruising on her torso. “Does this fit the bill?” She crossed the room towards the officers. “Here, this is what he did to me. This is why I hit him with a fucking bottle.” The officers looked over to Lamb who shrugged unhelpfully. “I’ve got photos going back years of the things he’s done to me. So let’s talk about that instead shall we? Because I would like to report multiple instances of assault.”

“Perhaps we should take this to the station,” the more senior officer suggested nervously.

“I think that’s probably a good idea,” Ella told him through gritted teeth. 

“I did warn you gentlemen that this wouldn’t be straightforward.” Lamb told them with a wicked grin. 

“Would you like to come in our car, or -”

“Would I like to be taken to the station in the backseat of a police car? No, I wouldn’t. Why don’t I follow you shortly? You can go now.” She spun on the spot to see Lamb looking up at an interesting mark on the ceiling while River was disguising a laugh by looking intently at his feet. “Anyone need a cuppa? I fucking do.” 

She sighed and brushed past them both to go back downstairs. The officers were swiftly escorted to the bottom floor by Catherine.

“Well done you,” she said with a warm smile. “One of us will be happy to go with you to the station. Just say the word.”

“Thanks, Catherine. God, what a bloody cheek coming here to talk to me about an assault.” She muttered angrily. River dropped into his chair which groaned in response. “He must be deluded if he thinks he’s got the police in his pocket on this.”

“Make sure you have plenty of photos,” Catherine advised, “If you have reason to believe they’ll side with him then you’ll need evidence and character witnesses.”

“Ugh, this is going to get so messy.” Ella’s words were muffled, her head lay in the folds of her arms on her desk. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

“El?” 

“Hmm?” When River didn’t continue, she forced herself to look up.

“You said you’re going to war.” He told her. Catherine looked on, confused. Ella frowned, processing his comment.

“I did,” she said thoughtfully. “I did say war. Catherine, I am going to fucking war, and I am not going to let Eddie win.” She continued fiercely.

“Oh. Good to know. We’ll be with you all the way,” the older woman said with a smile. 

“Told you,” he said as Catherine left, “they all want to help.”

“I know. But I spent years with Eddie’s mates and their wives and girlfriends turning a blind eye. They knew what was going on in my house and not one of them stood up to him.”

“You’ve got us now.”

“In that case, I’d better go and sweet talk Louisa into another favour. I take you lot to all the fun places. School, supermarket, police station,” she laughed.

“If she says no -”

“I know, I know. But if I paid you back every favour, I’d be doing it for the rest of my life,” she rolled her eyes.

“Fine by me,” he called out as she left. “Good luck.”

*

It turned out going to war was stressful business. Ella had provided a full statement and photographs to the police who’d concurred that she was the correct party to be pressing charges. She was still left in limbo waiting for the call which confirmed that Eddie had been taken into police custody and charged. It had been days. 

“Look, why don't you leave the kiddo with me and go and do something for yourself?” Shirley offered as Ella took another loop of the room, her phone in hand, waiting for it to ring. 

“You?” River interjected before Ella could. 

“Kids love me. Get your hair done, go to the gym, whatever you want” She continued enthusiastically, not noticing Ella's discomfort. 

“Shirley, stop,” Louisa demanded. “You don't need to do any of that unless you want to,” she said to Ella who looked mortified. “Would he say stuff like that?” She asked. 

Ella nodded slowly. 

“Whenever he decided I wasn't making enough effort. He'd dress it up like a reward but it was his way of humiliating me. He made it sound like my own fault he was sleeping around.”

“Fuck. I'm so sorry,” Shirley said, ashamed. 

“Don't be, it didn't bother me. Let some other poor girls deal with the fallout of his performance issues and lack of skill.” Ella said slyly. Shirley cackled.

“Oh my god, the loser couldn't even get you off? For, like, years ? You deserve a medal, that's bullshit.” 

“Total bullshit,” Louisa agreed. 

“You're quiet, tosser,” Shirley kicked the wobbly leg of River's chair. He didn't look up from his computer. 

“I know when to keep my mouth shut,” he told her. “Also, they're right,” he looked up and his gaze lingered on Ella's face for a moment, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He spoke softly but pointedly, “you do deserve a medal.” 

“Said Cartwright the sex god?” Shirley scoffed, “I don't fuckin’ think so. You're more likely to get punched in the face than get a shag.”

“Did you mean sex god or sex pest?” Louisa teased, “he's definitely a pest but I'm not sure sex has anything to do with it.”

“Annoying, whiney… punchable face? It's been a while actually, I could help you out?” Shirley balled her hand into a fist and rotated it as if warming up. 

“Why’d you need to turn everything into a fight?” He asked.

“Dunno, cos I can?” 

“She's bored.” Ella and Louisa declared in unison. 

“And here I thought we were all being nicer .”

“I'm being nicer to her. Cos her ex, y'know,” Shirley raised her hand - still in a fist - and mimicked stabbing someone, complete with Psycho sound effects, “is nuts. But you,” she looked at River with disdain, “jury's still out.”

“Thanks mate,” he grinned, “you're the best.”

“Anytime, pal .” 

“Alright kids,” Ella interrupted before their bickering escalated. “I'm popping out to get birthday stuff for Clover before I lose my mind waiting for the police to call. Which one of you is on babysitting duty?”

River stood up first.

She loved the feeling of the underground train hurtling towards its next station. It felt like a glorious combination of deathtrap and feat of engineering.

She could hear River complaining under his breath behind her as they pushed through the crowd and onto the train. It was busy for the middle of the working day, a pair of elderly ladies each had a little dog in matching bags at their feet, a man in his twenties with a long ponytail precariously held up an Ikea flatpack box and there were tourists everywhere.

Ella made her way into the aisle between seats and then, realising she had nowhere to hold onto, tried to backtrack. She turned towards River who, on glancing behind him, was already boxed in by people. Ella planted her feet and softened her knees as the train set off again at speed. River held onto the bar above her head with ease and she could see the path of a muscle in his wrist as it travelled along his forearm and up into his bicep.

She'd hustled them out of the building so fast, he’d left his jacket in the car and his keys on his desk, not that she felt at all guilty. The carriage swayed and rocked unsteadily on the tracks and as it slowed for the next station, Ella felt the same flip in her stomach that came from leaning back too far in a chair. Her heart lurched as the driver hit the brakes eagerly and she felt herself falling backwards, her hands automatically stretched out towards River who caught her with an easy hand in the small of her back. 

“Steady,” he said quietly. She huffed a laugh of relief and reset her feet as the hand on her back pulled her half a step closer and moved to her waist. She didn’t flinch. Her mind and heart raced as, for the first time in years, she hadn’t recoiled when someone other than Clover had touched her.

Ella distracted herself by looking at the myriad of posters for musicals rather than at him. She could feel his eyes on her, her body had become well attuned to knowing when she was being watched. Eddie had watched her every move, every day, so she’d gotten used to making her facial expressions as impassive as possible. There was a malevolence with the way he watched her, always with a sneer or a frown of disapproval, but as she caught River’s gaze in their reflection in the glass, there was nothing of the sort.

His hand moved slightly as he dipped his head towards her. “We should get off next.” She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak aloud.

Ella felt herself relax, breathing in whatever he was wearing that held the scent of sandalwood and black tea, whatever it was, it was expensive - she knew. She’d brought enough grooming products over the years. Eddie had always favoured stronger, more overpowering scents as if to match his personality, but River wore something that felt more intimate, as if it was speaking directly to her senses.

She was almost close enough to press her face into his t-shirt and let the scent engulf her. His hand left her waist as the train stopped again and he turned to move towards the doors.

Off the train, he followed in her footsteps as she navigated through crowds of people. Occasionally separated by big groups, he found his way back to her, his light touch on her elbow letting her know he was still there.

She led him up through the tunnels and finally out into central London.

“So,” she said brightly. “I’ve no clue what to get her. Any ideas?” 

“I don’t think I’m the same demographic as your eight year old girl,” he said with a smirk.

“Shit, you don’t like Barbies, Nintendo and Taylor?” She turned aimlessly on the spot, hoping for inspiration.

“Can she skate?” He asked suddenly, pointing out a sports shop.

“Ice?” Ella looked doubtful.

“Roller?”

“Yes!” Her face brightened immediately into a smile. “Perfect,” she pulled him along and into the shop.

Emerging with roller boots, knee pads and helmet, Ella was over the moon. “This is amazing, these are so cute!”

“You could throw her a party?”

“And invite who? She’s an outcast at school at the moment, the kids are all shit scared of Coe. Sofia and Lulu would come, but I’d need to clear it with Flyte.”

“I’ll be there. Catherine, Louisa. Probably Shirley if you tell her there’ll be food.” She thought it over.

“I think that would work, hardly peak cool for nine though - a party with a bunch of grown ups? There is one thing I want to try and sort, but I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Go on?”

“I want to get her dog back from Eddie. She’s got this little - well, not so little - puppy at his place. She had him for Christmas and then not long after, Ed went to prison and I couldn’t get the dog back ‘cos his brother was living at the house. Now I’ve made her leave him behind again . Pretty sure if I could get Eugene back, I’d win brownie points for life.”

“I’m sorry, what was the fucking dog called?” He stopped short in the middle of the street.

“Eugene. From Tangled?” Ella smiled at the complete confusion on River’s face. “It’s her favourite. I’m sure she’ll let you watch it with us? Anyway, she named the dog after him.”

“Eugene,” he muttered with a low laugh. “OK. So we need to try and get Eugene back.”

“Since when did you become such a team player?” She nudged him.

“I’m not.”

“Oh but you are! You’ve reformed.”

“Hmm. Don’t get telling everyone else, they’ll all expect special treatment.” He led her back towards the underground station and on to Slough House. 

*

“Wish my feet were teeny enough to give these a whirl,” Shirley held up the roller boots and stared enviously. 

“You can hire them? When the police finally call me to say Eddie’s been held, I'll be able to take Clo. There's a roller disco every Friday near the safe house.” 

“Oh my god, a roller disco!” Shirley squeaked, “Fucking fuuuun! Do you skate?”

“God, I can, but it's been years. I'll be on my arse in a heartbeat.” Ella laughed, putting hers and River's tea down on the desk. 

“Thanks, El.” He muttered. “Got it, Ho?”

“Nearly there,” Ho typed some more commands. “Ladies and… Cartwright, I give you, the CCTV from the Cole residence.” Ella peered over his shoulder for a closer look. 

“Fuck me, that's weird.” She whispered. 

“You ok?” Shirley kicked her foot causing her balance to shift and she lurched into River who was looking over Ho's other shoulder. 

“Oh, shit Shirl, sorry River,”

“Sorry, you alright?” 

“Yeah, it's just strange. Seeing my own house through the cameras. There he is, there's Genie!” A beagle puppy bounced into view, running around the driveway.

“So, we're dognapping?” Shirley asked eagerly. 

“No. Maybe. I don't know?” Ella looked uncertain, “I just want Clo to have him back. Maybe I should just call Eddie, tell him I want the damn dog back.”

“No fucking way.” River replied through gritted teeth. “There's got to be another way.”

“Well, we can figure it out later,” she decided. Ho's phone buzzed across the desk with a 5pm alarm, “Ho's got places to be.”

“Bitches to see.” He supplied.

“Ugh, keep calling women ‘bitches’ and I doubt you'll see a pussy ever again.” Shirley sneered. 

“If he ever has?” Ella questioned.

“That's true, y'know those fake silicone ones don't count?”

“Oi, what's with the abuse? I've seen many, many pussies actually. More than him ,” he jabbed a thumb in River's direction. 

“Not something to brag about, Rodders. It's not the quantity, it's whether you actually have a clue what to do.” Ella teased. “Now, off you pop, there's a sports sock and a tub of lube waiting for you at home.” Ho blushed as he pulled on his jacket and grabbed his backpack. 

“I think I preferred when you were the quiet one,” he rolled his eyes. “See you fuckers tomorrow.”

“Bye Ho,” Shirley waved, smiling brightly. Ella stifled a loud laugh behind her hand, “have fun!” The wave turned into the universal signal for wanker.

“God, how on earth has he survived this place with you here, Dander?” Ella wondered aloud, a firm hand in River's back gently pushing him to the exit.

“He fucking loves it, mate. I swear he thinks it's foreplay.” She fake heaved and said her goodbyes as she went back up to her office while Ella and River went for the exit. 

“The world could not handle a Ho/Dander love story,” Ella confirmed from the passenger seat of River's car. 

“I don't think they could either,” he sniggered. 

“Good that she's a bit happier, feels like she's found some peace lately.” 

Ella fell into silence during the drive, lost in thought. She envied how free and wild Shirley was, how poised and strong Louisa was. As if reading her mind, River interrupted her thoughts. 

“You'll find it too,” he assured her, pulling up at the school gates. As she turned with a smile, the view through the windscreen made her stop dead. Seeing her pale, he followed her gaze. “That's him?” He asked grimly. She nodded. 

“Fuck, I feel sick.”

“I'll let Coe know to stay inside, I'll get him to call the police. Stay here, just ignore him.”

“Yeah,” Ella felt ready to bolt at any moment. Her legs carried her without thought, as she ignored his suggestion and got out of the car, leaving the door open behind her. 

“Ella,” River called from the car, she didn't turn back. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked calmly. Eddie leaned against the wall of the school. 

“Wanted to see my little angel.”

“She doesn't want to see you.”

“Been poisoning her against me, have you?”

“She saw what you did, Eddie. There's no going back from that.”

“She saw what you did as well, darls. Moving on already?” He gestured behind her where she felt calmed by River's presence.

“You need to leave -”

“Get a fucking grip, Ella. You won't win, I can make you disappear. Nothing but a fucking slut.” She felt River move as he went to launch himself in front of her and towards Eddie. “Hold up, your little puppy wants a scrap,” Eddie laughed. Ella put herself between the two, choosing to face River rather than Eddie. 

“Don't, don't do anything - he's not worth it, River,” she implored as he tried to get around her. “River, please!” She said firmly, placing a hand on his chest and grabbing the cotton of his t-shirt in her hands. “Please don't. I will not let him hurt the people I care about.” She turned back to Eddie and stood firmly against River to hold him back. “Leave, Eddie. It’s done, you don't control me anymore. I'm not going to let you hurt me, or Clo, or anyone I love anymore. We're done.” As she spoke, sirens and blue lights filled the area immediately surrounding the school. She laughed with nervous relief, “see? It's over.”

“If you think that, then you're more stupid than you look, darls. I'll decide when it's done. You're still my wife, you belong to me.”

Police officers surrounded them, slowly approaching Eddie. 

“Eddie Cole, you're under arrest for assault and harassment, get on your knees with your hands behind your head -” one officer called out, Eddie acquiesced but kept his gaze firmly on Ella. 

“It's far from over, darlin’. You won't get rid of me.”

“Fuck off, Eddie. Stay the fuck away from us.”

“Get comfortable, Ella. Shack up with your new boy and relax. I want it to really fucking hurt next time I see you, and him.” He jutted his chin towards River.

He was dragged from the floor and roughly pushed into a police car. An officer approached them - one of the same officers from Lamb's office. 

“Mrs Cole, apologies, it took us a few days to track your husband down.”

“Hmm, isn't it a good job we were here so he wasn't able to get to his daughter?” The officer had the good grace to look ashamed. “Do you need anything from me, or can I go now?” The officer waved them off and went back to his colleagues with his tail between his legs. 

Ella turned away, back to River who'd finally dropped his guard.

“I shouldn't have done that -” he started.

“I shouldn't have stopped you.”

“You were right to, god, I want to fucking kill him myself.” 

Ella felt herself deflate as the fear overtook her, “I’ll never have a life while he's around -”

“You will, of course you will.”

“You heard him, River. Oh my god,” a hand flew to her mouth, “the things he said to you -”

“Ella, forget that, I don't care what he said to me. It's you I'm worried about.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologise for him. You need to stop apologising for him.” 

She sighed, resigned. “I know,” she murmured. 

“Let's get Clo?” He nudged her towards the door. 

“What am I going to tell her?”

“The truth, El. You can try and protect her from stuff, but you can't lie to her.”

“I never would,” she whispered. 

Coe met them at the door with only a raised eyebrow and a nod, leaving immediately afterwards. Clover sat in the small reception area with her bag at her feet. 

“What's going on? Why wouldn't JK let me out?” She demanded.

“Can I explain at home? Properly?” Ella asked. Clover scuffed her shoes against the carpet and shrugged. 

Ella held out a hand, a peace offering. She could see Clover weighing up what to do next, looking first at Ella and then at River who gave her an encouraging smile.

It felt like an eternity, but Clover's warm hand slid into hers and they went home. 

Despite there being more than enough space for the two of them in the house, Ella climbed into Clover's bed and held her daughter close. 

“Your dad came to school this evening. To see you -” she started.

“Not me,” Clover said softly. “You. He wants us both back.”

“Do you understand why I don't want that, lovey?”

The scent of strawberries from Clover's shampoo filled Ella's nose as the girl nodded. “I believe that the best way to protect you, is for you to live with me. But, Clo, I'm not going to tell you whether you can or can't have a relationship with your dad. That bit needs to be your own decision.”

“So I could still see him? If I wanted to?” Clover asked. 

“If you wanted to still see him, then I'd find a way to make that happen sweetheart.”

“Even though you don't want to?”

“Yeah, Clo. As long as you're safe, I'll make it work.”

“I don't want to.” She said decisively. “I saw him hurt you. And when JK wasn't looking, I saw him today and I thought he'd do it again.”

“You can change your mind, you might as you get older.” Clover shook her head. 

“I only need you.” 

“I love you, my precious girl.” Ella squeezed tighter, her tears falling into Clover’s hair.

*

Steam billowed from the shower as Ella slid the door back and stepped out on the morning of Clover’s birthday a few days later. Louisa had driven them home the night before with River disappearing halfway through the day. Ella ran through the list in her head of everything she needed to get done. 

She glanced quickly at the fading bruises on her stomach, her hand skimming over the dusting of light stretch marks that remained with her nine years after Clover's birth. She was considering taking Shirley up on the suggestion of self defence classes, her body - slim, but soft and pliant - had no strength. 

“Oh my god!” A squeal from downstairs startled her and she yanked a towel from the rail. 

She was still pulling it around her as she reached the bottom step, water dripping to the floor. 

Clover rolled on the living room floor with a brown tangle of fur and limbs. “Mum! It's Eugene!” She shrieked. 

At the centre of the chaos was River. Ella flushed, pulling the towel a little tighter, her arms crossing over her chest.

“You -” she started, her voice hoarse. “You got the dog?” She saw his eyes flick from her face, down her body and back again and shifted self consciously on the spot, pulling a hand free to tug the towel down and cover her legs a little more. 

The dog spotted Ella and bounded over, nipping her ankles and rolling at her feet in greeting. “Genie,” she smiled at the puppy, desperate to reach up to her. With her free hand, she ruffled his ears.

“Can I take Genie outside mum?” Clover asked. 

“Yeah, go on babe, I don't want him to pee on the floor.” 

With Clover outside, Ella turned back to River. “How'd you get the dog?” She asked, wide eyed with disbelief. 

“Why don't I put the kettle on,” he offered, “you should get dressed. We've got a party to set up haven't we?” He said with a bashful smile. 

Ella got halfway back upstairs when she stopped and turned back to him. 

“You're a good man, River. Good job I didn't listen to Shirley, I knew she was peddling bullshit.”

“Probably wasn't all bullshit, only the good bits.” He smirked on his way to the kitchen, leaving her still dripping water on the stairs.

Chapter 6 - coming soon!

[ithinkyouhealedmyheart]

National Boyfriend's Day

Characters: Kendall Knight, Gustavo Rocque mentioned, Veronica Clark oc, James Diamond, Mrs. Knight mentioned,

Pairings: Kendall Knight/Female Original Character(s), Kendall Knight/Veronica Clark

Word Count: 1988

Grammarly is my beta reader

The boys were graciously given the day off for some unknown reason, which was not wholly unknown. Gustavo claimed his throat hurt from all the yelling he had done the day before. But it didn't matter; they didn't have to sing or dance in the recording studio for a whole day.

Ronnie had been doodling a lot the past few days. She had heard about the botanical garden and wanted to go there more than anything, but she was stuck working with Gustavo and the boys. It wasn't like she hated working with them. They were rowdy and louder but had their quiet moments. Since Kelly gave her earplugs on her first day, she hasn't been without them. It was common for her to wear earplugs even if she lounged at the pool with the guys.

Her doodles mainly consisted of various types of flowers. She hadn't been sightseeing since arriving in L.A. a few months ago. Gustavo's been keeping her busy with the prospect of a new album, so it's been taking away from her time. For the time being, she sat in the living room of 3G. Her dad and Mrs. Knight got coffee earlier, leaving her alone in the apartment.

Living in Hollywood was a dream come true. She also heard her music play on the radio because Big Time Rush was a big hit. It was excellent writing music that would sell stadiums and make it onto CDs that teenagers would buy and listen to. But, being behind the scenes was the best of all. She wasn't a fan of all those big crowds or the flash of camera lights. Instead, the boys got to deal with all of that.

A knock was at her door, but she was too in the zone to notice. Music playing softly on the radio, Pink Floyd and David Bowie tapes that her father left in there from his spring cleaning.

"This is your first date. It has to be amazing," James whispered to Kendall. He only tagged along because Lucy wasn't at the pool, and he was bored.

"How many times do you think I should tell you? This isn't our first date, and quit trying to control it." Kendall knocked on the door again.

"I'm sorry, you have a bad track record of asking girls out and keeping them entertained. Shall I remind you of- "

"Don't. Say her name." Kendall sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do we even know if Ronnie is inside? She could be with Camille,"

"Maybe she can't hear you? She always has those earplugs in." James shrugged. "Oh! Which means she can't hear us talking,"

"For the last time. You don't have to worry about the date I've planned."

"But you won't tell me about it," James pouted. "I want to make sure you take her to the right place and know-"

"You're not her brother. Or her dad." Kendall cut him off sharply. He pulled out his phone and texted her.

Shortly after, the door opened, revealing Ronnie with her faded blue hair dye. She'd meant to touch it up, but everything else had been distracting. She wasn't wearing her yellow sweatshirt. It had been swapped for a plain tank top.

"Sorry, did I keep you guys waiting? What happened?"

James waved and smiled brightly. He was a bit too giddy for her liking, and she wasn't sure if she would be happy about what Kendall had to say. It wasn't odd that they were standing outside her door, but something about it felt suspicious.

"So, uh, there's this new botanical garden that opened, and I was wondering- I was hoping that you wanted to come see it." Kendall was rarely all that nervous, but it was cute when he did trip over his words.

"Of course! But uh," Ronnie glanced down and smiled sheepishly. "Let me go change real quick."

"I think that's fine considering the heat wave-" Kendall elbowed James.

Ronnie left the door open and sauntered into her room, closing that door behind her. Kendall and James glanced at each other before stepping through the threshold. It wasn't that they'd never been in her apartment, but they hadn't been inside without her dad present. He was ex-military and scary. The last thing either of them wanted was for him to come home and assume Kendall and James were there for less-than-safe for work activities.

"Oh, hey, her notebook!" James's eyes sparkled as he made his way over to the beige couch. He didn't pick it up but leaned over to look at what she was doing.

"Does she have any new song ideas?" Kendall joined him, but he was too afraid to touch her notebook. It was one thing if Ronnie caught them looking at it, but an entirely different ordeal if they picked it up and started flipping through.

"I know it's scorching out, but I can't go anywhere without my hoodie. At least I have short-" Ronnie's bedroom door creaked when it opened, and the three stood still, staring at each other. Not only were Kendall and James caught red-handed, but they also froze like deer in headlights.

"What are you doing?" Ronnie narrowed her eyes.

"You left it open!" James whined, shuffling away and holding his hands up. "If you're going to hurt us, don't touch the face!"

"I'm not going to hit you. It's not like you would see the new song I'm working on anyway,"

"Are you sure you want to wear your hoodie?" Kendall asked. He was wearing cargo shorts and a T-shirt.

"I'll be fine." Ronnie shrugged. "Now, get out. I'm not leaving my apartment unlocked with three idiots all day. That's asking for something to get broken." She shooed the guys with her hands.

"Aw, but I wanted to see your dad's face when he gets back." James mocked.

"I bet he'll be happy to see you later." Ronnie rolled her eyes.

~~~

It was no surprise that Ronnie hated buses. She hated the crowds, the limited number of seats, and, most of all, the smell of L.A. passengers. A purse dog with dead eyes was staring straight at her, and she stared back, nearly crushing Kendall's hand. The bus was noisy because of the people on it and because it sounded like the moving vehicle would fall apart at any given chance.

Kendall was standing, holding onto the bar above his head. He moved to block the small purse dog from her sight and gently rang his thumb over her knuckles. He could tell from a mile away that she was getting overwhelmed. As much as she tried to hide it, she wasn't really good at it.

Ronnie didn't want it to seem like everything in this city was overwhelming, but when the only place she had been to was the Palm Woods, everything was overwhelming. But it wasn't for a lack of trying. She rested her head against the back of the uncomfortable plastic seat and closed her eyes. The bus ride would be shorter than it seemed. It was easy to get caught up in it all.

Originally, Kendall would have asked his mom to take them to the botanical gardens, but she was away, and he couldn't ask Gustavo or Kelly to drive them. A limo would attract suspicion, which would, in turn, alert a border of fangirls. It had been a hot minute since he last rode the bus; he was too used to having a driver, and now that he and his friends were famous. However, they would have taken the train if they had been in Northern California.

As soon as the bus finally stopped at their destination, Ronnie hopped out of her seat and whizzed past the bus driver. Her thanks were drowned out by her feet hitting the steps. Kendall followed after, thanking the bus driver more prominently. Even though the bus had yet to pull away, Ronnie couldn't contain her excitement. She jumped up and down, clapping her hands with a big smile. Kendall wasn't embarrassed to be seen with her. He was glad he could make her happy.

"We could never start a garden back in Vermont, which was a bummer because everything always looked so gray. Also, Scout would eat whatever flowers we planted, which was a hazard to his health. My dad doesn't have the best green thumb either-" Ronnie rambled while she led him by the hand, taking a big breath before launching into the second part of what she was saying.

"Easy, easy. Don't forget to breathe." Kendall chuckled. He would follow wherever she would go, even to the ends of the earth.

"Sorry, sorry. I swear, sometimes I need one of those cool devices that tells you when to drink water, but instead for when I need to breathe." Ronnie laughed and played with the drawstring of her hoodie with her free hand.

"If you got one of those, you would throw it against the wall."

"Well, yeah, but it would be useful for a little while."

Kendall showed the man at the door their tickets, and they each passed through a metal detector. Luckily, it didn't go off. When they were in the lobby, Ronnie froze. Her eyes went wide and sparkled. Her head swiveled, trying to take in every detail about the botanical gardens. Kendall was even taken aback by how pretty it was, too. 

There was greenery everywhere. It was the perfect place for Poison Ivy’s secret lair. There were halls divided up by seasons. Wordlessly, Ronnie took the blonde's hand and led him toward the Spring hall. When did she get so strong? He nearly tripped over himself, trying to follow after her. In a way, she was like a kid in a candy store. Wait, no, she was like Gustavo when she spent the night at 2J because Griffin took his mansion away. And her smile was infectious. He honestly didn’t mind getting pulled around. He hadn’t realized just how pretty nature was before now. When James suggested the botanical gardens, he shrugged it off but this place was ethereal. Although he would have preferred playing street hockey with his friends this wasn’t the worst way to spend his time. 

Did he mention how pretty Ronnie’s smile was? 

Kendall, pretty much, spent the day admiring Ronnie while she admired plants and talked about them. She wasn’t the most knowledgeable about them but she was passionate. Maybe this little adventure could even spark some inspiration? At least Kendall could only hope. He really just wanted to know what their next song was going to be about, because Gustavo wouldn’t tell them anything. But, he could ask her about it any other day. Ronnie didn’t stop holding his hand either, and he was on cloud nine. It was the cutests thing. She was the cutest thing. Now that he thought about it, he should take her on dates more often. She deserved it to be honest. 

Plants weren’t just pretty, but they played an important role in symbolism. Bouquets could be used to relay a hidden message, and different colors had different meanings across all genes. The only thing Kendall knew was that roses were used to symbolize love. It was why he always got roses for his mother on valentine's day, because he loved and cherished her more than anything. Ronnie prattled off about the symbolism of different roses and even different flowers. But, he was too busy paying attention to the sparkle in her eye to understand anything she was saying. At least he found out that she liked Lisianthus, whatever that was. 

And by the time they were ready to come home, Ronnie leaned her head on Kendall’s shoulders and her eyes fluttered shut. She had tired herself out. 

“Best, day, ever.” She mumbled sleepily. 

“Best date ever.” Kendall clarified with a small smile.

[queen-of-writing-bad-things]

Henry Danger Reader Insert | Captain Man x Reader: SEASON 1

Episode 9: Birthday Girl Down

~Henry's house~

Henry, Charlotte, Jasper and one of their other friends from school were all sat on Henry's couch, studying the periodic table.

"Okay..." Charlotte showed her PearPad to Jasper, which had a 'B' symbol on it.

"Boron, okay....atomic number five, category metalloid." He recalled, feeling proud that his chemistry revision was finally sinking in.

"Doesn't your grandfather have metalloids?" Henry looked at Charlotte, thinking that it was a disease.

"Yeah, he can't sit down." She replied without looking up from her tablet. This time, it was Jasper's turn to test Henry, showing him a 'Cd' symbol.

"Canadium, a person from Canada...mium. Personality, Canadian-ish." He guessed incorrectly.

"It's cadmium. Atomic number 48. Category, transition metal." Charlotte answered for him, being right, of course, because it was Charlotte.

"Ohhhh, and once again Charlotte gets the answer right." They all started to clap sarcastically, laughing with each other.

"Yeah..too bad I don't know the atomic number for idiot boys." She sassed, not letting them get her down. They all shouted again at her burn, as she put her PearPad back in her bag.

"So, hey, what are we all doing Saturday night?" Henry asked his friends. They all looked around awkwardly, giving him the suspicion that they knew something he didn't.

"You guys wanna play miniature golf?" He asked enthusiastically.

"No." Was the answer he got from all of them.

"You wanna play enormous golf?" He said as a joke, but they still gave no answer.

"Hello?" He looked at them, wondering why they were so quiet.

"He's gonna find out." Charlotte sighed to Jasper.

"Well, I'm not telling him." He told her, putting his hands in the air.

"What? Come on, no secrets. Flashback?" Henry was eager to know what was going on, so he looked to the boy sat quietly on the end of the sofa.

"Why you asking me? This is the first time I've even been invited to your house." He said as an excuse.

"Ugh, alright." Charlotte gave in when Henry looked at her, so she returned to her seat next to him.

"Henry... We're all going to Debbie Putch's birthday party." She revealed to the blond boy, making him look around in confusion, only to see them nod in confirmation.

"But... I didn't get an invitation." He said, making them feel awkward.

"Is that a big surprise?" Jasper asked his best friend, who looked back at him, offended.

"You know why," Flashback added. Henry got up from his seat in frustration.

"It's not fair!" He said to his friends.

"You almost killed her." Jasper reminded him.

"No, I didn't." Henry insisted as the doorbell rang.

"Who's here?" Flashback asked.

"Our food," Henry told him in an annoyed tone and he went to see the delivery guy.

"Sushi Dushi!" The man said in a cheery voice, holding out a large platter of sushi to Henry.

"Here's my mom's credit card." He gave the piece of plastic to the guy and accepted the food from him. 

"Don't be mad." Charlotte tried to calm him down, as he brought it over to the coffee table.

"I am mad." He snapped back.

"Well, you can't blame Debbie," Jasper told him.

"I blame Debbie. I blame her parents and I blame anyone else who thinks it was my fault." Henry exclaimed in anger.

"Hey." The sushi guy interrupted.

"Yeah?" 

"What are you so ticked off about?" The dude asked.

"Why do you wanna know?" They all looked at him with weirded-out expressions.

"Hey man, just because I deliver sushi, doesn't mean I don't have curiosities." The man whined back.

"Tell him what happened." Charlotte looked to her friend.

"No, I've already told the story, like, a thousand times." Henry didn't want to remember that unfortunate night.

"Flashback? Tell the guy how Henry almost killed Debbie." Jasper asked the boy on his right.

'All right. It all went down at Debbie's last birthday party. And it almost was her last." He smirked and leaned forward, making the delivery man sit down in amazement.

"Tell me more."

"Okay, try to visualise this. Debbie was turning 13 years old, and she was getting everything ready for her party, way up on the roof of her parent's condo." 

~Flashback~

"It looked like it was going to be the best birthday party ever."

"Mom, this is going to be the best birthday party ever," Debbie said to her mom in excitement.

"It will be if we get everything ready." Her mom put her hands on her daughter's arms.

"Excuse me, I'd like to get some pics of the kids helping me set up?" She said, grabbing the party photographer, who quickly started taking photos of everyone on the roof.

"Okay, all the balloons have been blown up. What else can we do?" Charlotte came over to her and reported how everything was going.

"Uh... let's see. Oooh, why don't you and the boys check out the ball machine and make sure it works?" She suggested, pointing at the machine by the doors.

"Sure. You guys, let's make sure this ball thing works!" Charlotte yelled to Jasper and Oliver Pook. They grabbed a bat and Charlotte put a ball into the tube.

"Set the ball speed nice and slow. Level two." Jasper told her, not wanting the ball to injure someone. The machine fired, but Oliver didn't even swing. Sydney clapped excitedly though.

"Anyone see where it went?" Oliver said. Jasper ran over to the edge of the roof snd saw the ball hit a car, which then hit another car.

"You hit that Prius!" He yelled in horror, watching the accident unfold. The door opened and in came Henry, dragging a whiny Piper behind him.

"Hey guys, sorry I'm late." He greeted the rooftop.

"I wanna go to the Pear store!" Piper screamed at her brother, who turned to Debbie.

"Later. This is my little sister, Piper." He introduced them.

"Oh, hi, Piper." The teen girl smiled at her, but Piper just pulled a face at her.

"Sorry I brought her, but I had to babysit tonight." He explained to Debbie.

"Like I wanna be here?" His sister retorted at him. 

"Aw, I'm sure you'll have a--" Debbie's mom was interrupted as Piper shoved her phone into her face.

"Look at my phone!" 

"The screen's broken." Debbie immediately noticed.

"No kidding, girl." Piper said sarcastically.

"Hey Debbie, want to come hit a ball?" Jasper butted in and the birthday girl happily accepted. Mrs Putch called Charlotte to help her with the gift bags, leaving Henry with his sister.

"Henry, go work the ball machine," Charlotte told him.

"Okay, I'm just going to grab a chip." Henry agreed as Piper struggled with her phone.

"I can't read my stupid screen!" She yelled, flicking the cracked screen and squinting at it.

"Okay, get ready, birthday girl." Jasper smiled at Debbie, who was preparing to swing the bat in her hand.

"Do it, Henry." The curly-haired boy called to his friend, who ran back to the ball machine.

"All right, here it comes!" He pressed the button and the ball flew it at lightning speed.

"And that's when things went real bad for Debbie." The ball hit Debbie square in her chest, forcing her backwards and over the edge of the roof. Screaming on the way down, she landed on a dog, as her friends and mother ran to the ledge. They looked down and saw Debbie groaning in pain, a dog walker looking up at them in horror and confusion.

"Stop taking pictures and call 9-1-1!" Mrs Putch yelled at the photography, who quickly ran off. She looked at Henry.

"How did this happen?" She asked him in a shrill voice.

"Henry made the ball go at like, 90 miles an hour." Jasper pointed at the ball machine.

"What...me?" Henry looked flabbergasted at the accusations.

"Henry, you set the ball speed to 11." The distraught mother said to him after checking the machine.

"No, I didn't!" The blond boy insisted.

"Henry, why would you do that?" Oliver Pook blamed him.

"Charlotte?" Henry looked to his friend for support.

"I set it to two." She explained, which didn't help Henry's case.

"And you were the only one standing near the machine," Sydney added. 

"But I..." Henry stuttered, not knowing what to say.

"Security!" Debbie's mother called the guards, wanting the teen gone.

"I didn't do anything!" Was all Henry could protest, as two men came and dragged him out of the building, kicking and screaming.

~End of flashback~

"And then ol' Henry got kicked out of the party before it ever got started." Flashback finished the story for the Sushi Dushi guy, who had now sat down at the coffee table and was eating with the kids.

"'Cause Henry's the one who set the ball machine to 11. Amen." Flashback looked back down to his sushi, as Henry protested.

"It wasn't me." He tried to tell them.

"He says it was you." The delivery man said.

"Are you meant to be eating our sushi?" Henry looked at him confused.

"No, I'm not supposed to be." The dude just shrugged with his mouth full.

"Henry, you might feel better if you just admit that you did it," Jasper said to the boy on his left. Henry grabbed his chopsticks and snapped them in half with a scowl on his face.

"You guys see the rage in this kid?" Jasper said to the group.

"Where I come from, a man who knocks a pretty girl off a roof, on her birthday, is no man." The sushi man said, which made Henry feel even worse.

"Will you tell these guys that I didn't set the machine to 11?" He tried to get Charlotte on his side.

"I can't." She told him.

"Why not?"

"'Cause, you did it." Charlotte looked at the sushi guy, so Henry broke her chopsticks too.

~The Man Cave~

Henry stumbled from the elevator, seeing Ray at the back of the Man Cave and (y/n) sat on the couch. 

"Hey, you called me?" The boy looked at his boss.

"Yeah, check out what's in that bin." Ray pointed to a black box on top of a table near the elevator.

"Okay." Henry opened the lid and saw that the box was full of underwear, shirts, pants, but mainly underwear. 

"What is..." Henry looked at him in disgust, as (y/n) looked over from where she was sat.

"I want you to do my laundry." The man said in a pleasant voice, making Henry immediately drop the underwear back in the bin. Okay, he was gonna have to bleach his fingers after this. 

"Ew, no!" 

"Raymond! Why would you do that to him?" (y/n) threw her head back in annoyance. Suddenly, a beeping noise went off, only Henry had never heard it before.

"What does that sound mean?" The boy asked his boss.

"That we have a delivery," Ray told him, as a pizza box came down the tube.

"Huh." Ray went to pick up the food, as (y/n) came over, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Did you order a pizza?" She asked Henry, knowing that Ray hadn't as they had been together all morning and she'd had rather a heavy lunch so the fact that they now had unknown food deliveries was odd. 

"No." Henry denied. Opening the box, Ray smiled at the two and started to read the note written on the box.

"Hey, get this. "Dear Captain Man, our daughter, Debbie, is having her birthday party Saturday night."" Henry groaned at the mention of the party, feeling like it was following him everywhere he went. 

"Oh no, Debbie?" He complained, groaning at the thought of the girl and how she and her parents hated his guts. 

"Shhh. "We're inviting some of Debbie's favourite celebrities, including you and Miss Swellview." Ohhhh, she's so hot." Ray squealed looking at his friends, but he failed to see how dejected (y/n) looked at the mention of the beauty queen. The thought of Ray spending an entire evening with the beautiful woman made her feel small and inferior, like she was at the bottom of the pile, the last person he'd ever want to go out with since he had models and pageant wives throwing themselves at his feet. 

"Will you please stop reading the box?" Henry asked him, not wanting to hear more about Debbie, or see the woman next to him sad.

"No. So, if you'll agree to come to Debbie's party, you may cash the enclosed check for twelve thousand dollars. Whoa, look at this check!" He said holding it out, but (y/n) was too upset to care about the injection of cash into their bank account, so she didn't share his happiness nor did she give the cheque much attention. 

"It has pizza grease on it." She said in a monotone voice.

"I know." Ray smiled back, not realising she was in a bad mood.

"Fine, go to her party with every other kid in my class except me," Henry whined.

"Why aren't you invited?" (y/n) put her hand on his shoulder.

"'Cause I was at Debbie's birthday party last year and everyone thinks I shot her in the face with a rubber ball and knocked her off the roof. Onto a dog." He explained and the young woman looked at him with sympathy whilst Ray munched on a pizza slice.

"Oh, yeah. I remember hearing about that on the news. You did that?" Ray asked him, his best friend frowning at how happy he seemed.

"No! Everyone just thinks it was me." He insisted on his innocence.

"Henry, it's just me, (y/n) and you here." Ray walked towards the kid.

"So?" The boy asked confused.

"Why'd you shoot Debbie in the face?" Ray wanted to know, putting the pizza in his mouth. (y/n) and Henry groaned together.

"I didn't. Man, even you don't believe me." Henry couldn't believe that his boss didn't think he was telling the truth, the guy counted on him in life or death situations.

"I believe you." (y/n) told him, which made him feel slightly better.

"Do you want me to believe you?" Ray asked the boy.

"Yeah," Henry replied.

"Can I feel your head with my truth fingers?" The man questioned him.

"Sure you can-- feel my what with your what?" The teen looked extremely weirded out.

"Does this mean I have to go in the back and get everything ready?" (y/n) looked at Ray in annoyance.

"Yeah." He smiled at her, but she just glared back. He was really ticking her off today.

~

Having set the machine up, (y/n) motioned for Henry to sit down in the red spongy chair, as Ray pulled on the special gloves.

"Is this gonna be weird?" Henry asked as the woman pressed a few settings on the screen.

"No," Ray said from behind him.

"Yes, it is." (y/n) deadpanned.

"No, it's not," Ray said in an unusually stern tone, at which (y/n) tutted. Henry could feel the tension between them, and it wasn't comfortable to sit in-between.

"Okay." Ray lifted up his gloved hands, the fingertips covered in glowing censors. He moved past (y/n) without a word.

"Now, I'm going to rub my finger nodules all over your head and face," Ray said, as the woman did some final checks.

"So, what would be weird to you?" She said with an irritated voice, but the man just ignored her. Henry decided that he hated it when they fought. He wanted them to go back to their silly, oblivious selves who were hopelessly in love with each other, even if they'd never admit it to themselves, let alone each other.

"See, these blinky things read human brainwaves, like a lie detector but way more sophisticated," Ray explained how it worked to Henry.

"Whatever, just do it." Henry settled back into his chair, ready for the test to begin.

"All right, we're ready." (y/n) pressed the go button and Ray placed his hands on Henry's head, rubbing them over his scalp.

"Think about Debbie's birthday party," Ray said, working his fingers on the boy's head.

"Debbie's birthday party," Henry repeated slowly, his brainwaves picking up on the machine.

"One year ago." Ray carried on.

"One year ago," Henry repeated.

"When a ball knocked her off the roof." (y/n) scanned his results, and so far everything was normal.

"His heart rate is spiking." She reported.

"Off the roof." 

"Because you changed the ball speed from 2 to 11." Ray looked at his friend's back. He hated it when they weren't on good terms, even though he didn't know why she was so upset.

"No, I did not," Henry said truthfully. 

"Why do you tell lies?" Ray rubbed his hands faster over the teen's hair.

"I don't tell lies." Henry insisted.

"Brainwaves say he's telling the truth." (y/n) said over her shoulder.

"Do you feel pretty when you tell lies?" Ray asked him, and the woman furrowed her eyebrows at his odd question, but she remained quiet.

"You said this wouldn't get weird." Henry's humour wasn't prohibited by the machine, and Ray quickly ended the test, leaning over (y/n)'s shoulder to see the results.

"I believe you." He said to Henry.

"Really?" The boy asked with a joyful voice.

"Yeah." His boss smiled.

"Told you he was telling the truth." (y/n) piped up, but Ray still wasn't talking to her. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of her sharp tongue, so he thought it would be best to just say nothing.

"But that doesn't mean everyone will." Ray continued.

"So you felt my face for nothing," Henry complained.

"No. Now, we're going to find out the truth." (y/n) said, walking over to them after turning off the machine.

"But you both know already that I didn't do it," Henry replied.

"Yeah, but to know the full truth we've got to find out who did do it. That's the key slice of truth we need to complete the entire truth pie." Ray said, looking thoughtful.

"Ooooh, can we get some actual pie?" Henry asked, smiling up at his boss.

"I like the way you think about pie." Ray pointed a finger at him, as (y/n) felt her annoyance building again. Man, she was having just one of those days.

"Focus." She slapped both of them on the shoulder, bringing them back onto the problem at hand.

"So, how do we find out who really did change the ball speed from 2 to 11?" Henry looked at them both, the adults thinking over the situation.

"Easy. We're gonna dress up like foreign filmmakers and interview everyone on that roof when Debbie's face got smacked by the ball."

"And then we eat pie," Henry commented.

And then we eat pie." Ray nodded with him.

"Wow, Holmes, how do you come up with these brilliant plans?" (y/n) said in passing, as she walked away from the two and went through the sprocket, needing the comfort of her bed.

"What's up with her?" Ray looked at Henry with a perplexed face.

"Dude, you're so stupid." Henry just looked at him in disbelief.

~The next day, Swellview high~

Henry and Ray had donned ridiculous disguises. Wearing dark hats and tinted glasses, they had taken to speaking in strange, German accents. Charlotte looked at them with a bored expression.

"And vhere vere you vhen Debbie flew off zhe roof-us? Ray asked her.

"Yah, vhere vere you?" Henry repeated, his accent not as good but the effort was there. 

"VHERE?" Ray shouted through his megaphone.

"I know it's you, guys" She sighed at them, seeing through their pathetic costumes.

"Vhat guys?" Henry asked her.

"Ve are German filmmakers." Ray tried to say, but it didn't convince her.

"Yah, ve German." Henry nodded with his boss.

"Ve like veiner schnitzel." The man spoke.

"We also like to say veiner schnitzel." Henry joked.

"Veiner schnitzel." Ray let the words roll off his tongue.

"Yah, veiner schnitzel." Henry loved that phrase.

"I know, you're Henry and Ray. P.S, your accents are terrible. Does (y/n) know you're doing this?" She asked the two. 

"They're fighting, will you just answer our questions?" Henry took off his glasses, as Ray's stomach dropped at the mention of (y/n). She hadn't spoken to him last night when he got back from his crime fighting, and he was missing the familiarity of his best friend.

"We have a lot of these interviews to do." He snapped.

"Go ahead." Charlotte felt the need to drop the subject of the young woman, sensing it was a touchy subject.

~Back to the Man Cave~

"Okay, vhere vere you vhen Debbie flew off zhe roof-us?" Ray interviewed her.

"Well, Henry and Ray..." Charlotte's interview was one of several on the monitors inside the Man Cave.

"I was helping Debbie's mom with the gift bags, I was nowhere near the ball machine." Her voice came through the speakers.

"Do you think ve can believe her?" Ray said to Henry, using his German accent.

"Dude, it's just us and (y/n) here. You can drop the accent." Henry smiled at him, and the woman looked at the boy when she heard her name. 

"Geez, ma, why you always got to pee in my skeezits?" Ray whined at him, making (y/n) smile behind his back. She'd calmed down in the time they had been to the school and come back, but Ray still seemed to be on edge around her. She just needed the right time to apologise.

"I'm trying to prove I'm innocent." Henry reminded him.

"All right. Play the section from video four again." Ray replied, getting ready to write ideas down.

"Vhere vere you vhen Debbie vas knocked off the roof?" German Ray said onscreen to Jasper.

"Yah, vere youuuu?" Jasper looked at them weirdly but answered the question anyway.

"I was on the roof." He stated.

"Achtung!"

"Gesundheit!" The superhero duo exclaimed in frustration. 

"Video three," Ray said to Henry, having seen enough of Jasper.

"Yeah, I've always like Debbie. Except for one time in fourth grade, she told on a teacher that me and Sydney were eating bugs. That made me feel hatred." Ray and (y/n) screwed their faces up in disgust, as the older man wrote down a few notes about Oliver Pook.

"Okay, first, I only chewed the bugs. I did not swallow. And anyway, Henry's the one who changed the ball speed." Sydney Birnbaum said, following up on what Oliver said.

"No, I didn't!" The teen piped up, shouting at his classmate onscreen.

"Video six." (y/n) made him move on before he could get any angrier.

"NO, I DIDN'T CHANGE THE STUPID BALL SPEED!" Piper yelled at the camera, making the woman wince. Taking the pen off of Ray, she noted down 'Brat' under Piper's name, making him smile. Finally, things were beginning to calm down between them.

"Get out of my face!" Piper slammed the door, so Henry swiped to the next clip.

"Look, I felt really bad when Debbie fell off the roof, even though she used to make fun of my bucket collection. I'm a bucketeer!" Jasper flashed his badge at the camera, and Ray made sure to write 'bucket' on the board.

"Okay, I guess I felt a little bit jealous when Debbie won the spelling bee last year. But I'm over it. That should have been my trophy!" Charlotte revealed her anger to the camera.

"Is that vhy you changed zhe ball speed?" Ray quizzed the screen back on Oliver.

"I wanna talk to a lawyer." He said in his usual flat tone.

"Video 15," Ray called out.

"I... I know nothing about any of this. Can someone get my manager, please? I don't think these guys are even German." Some mystery guy called Nathan stuttered as he came on screen.

"Hey, he's cute." (y/n) smiled at the screen, checking the guy out. Ray angrily wrote an exclamation mark on the board, not liking how (y/n) looked at him.

"Oh please, he's a foetus." Ray scoffed, but Henry quickly switched off the screen. Ray realised what time it was and quickly came up with a lie that would allow him to leave. 

"So I'm going to... I got to go buy some socks." Ray checked his watch, trying to sneak off to the party.

"Socks? Right now?" (y/n) asked him, she wanted to make up with him and she couldn't do that if he was buying socks. 

"Yeah, it's an emergency." Ray slowly started walking backwards.

"But we still haven't figured out who made Debbie fly off the roof." Henry pointed out, not understanding why Ray wanted to leave so urgently.

"But, hey! You still got that thumb drive with all the pics from the party. Check those for evidence." Ray hoped that would make him feel better, but it didn't.

"Are you going to the party?" (y/n) questioned him, putting the pieces together when she remembered that it was Saturday evening.

"No, check the pics." Ray laughed off her question.

"Okay." She and Henry didn't sound too convinced, but they started to flick through the photos. Whilst they were preoccupied, Ray took his gum tube out and popped a gumball. Putting it into his mouth, he began to blow and then sneaked towards the tube once he had transformed.

"HEY!" (y/n) shouted at him as she turned around, knowing the only time he was quiet was when he was up to no good.

"I knew it. I knew you were going to Debbie's party." Henry yelled at him too, and they stalked towards Ray.

"Miss Swellview's gonna be there!" Ray wailed. He wanted to be around other girls, so he could take his mind off how (y/n) would never go out with a guy like him. The friendzone was where he lived and he hated it, so he might as well knock on other doors. 

"You better not go! Think of Henry's feelings." (y/n) warned him with a pointed finger, still hating the idea of him being all over the beauty queen.

"Okay, I won't go," Ray mumbled and shuffled his feet.

"Good." Henry dragged (y/n) back to the computer by her wrist. With their backs turned again, Ray stepped back into place and hit his belt, causing the tube to come down.

"Up the tube." He whispered as the two looked at him again in horror.

"RAYMOND!" (y/n) shouted after him, but it was no use.

"Hey! Where I come from, a man who lies about socks is no man!" Henry yelled too, but he just let out a sigh when he knew that Ray was long gone.

"He really pisses me off sometimes." (y/n) grumbled under her breath, as she and Henry plodded back to the computer.

"I suppose we should check the pics." He said to her in a bored tone and plopped down into the computer chair. He scrolled through the photos, most of them just selfies, but then something caught (y/n)'s eyes.

"Wait, wait, wait! Go back to that last one!" She said, and Henry flicked backwards, not seeing what she saw.

"What?" He asked with his eyes squinted.

"Look, those two pictures. See something peculiar?" She smirked down at him and pointed at the screen. Henry's eye's widened in realisation and he smiled up at her.

"Oh my god, we got to get to that party." He said, swiftly getting up from his chair.

"We?" The young woman's eyebrows rose.

"Yeah, you gotta talk to Ray. Straighten things out." He said as he downloaded the photos to his phone.

"Like he'll be able to hear me over Miss Swellview's giggling." She said bitterly.

"You're his best friend, he'll listen to you." Henry insisted, and they walked to the tubes.

"He irritates the hell outta me." She told him as the tubes fell down.

"You love him," Henry smirked at her.

"Shut up!" (y/n) blushed and tried to deny it, but Henry just gave her a coy grin.

"Up the tube!" They shot upwards, with the hope that they could prove Henry's innocence and patch up a friendship.

~Debbie's party~

The party was buzzing, as Ray posed for photos with all the kids. There was a trampoline at the back of the floor, with Jasper and Charlotte bouncing on it. It was a dangerous spot to leave it, so close to the edge, but no one seemed to care.

"Excuse me, Captain Man?" Mr and Mrs Putch walked up to the superhero.

"Yes, hello, citizens." He greeted them.

"We're Debbie's parents." Mr Putch introduced them.

"And this is Debbie, our birthday girl. She's so excited that you're here." The young girl rushed over, excited to meet her idol.

"Well, it's great to meet you, Debbie, and your wealthy parents." Ray smiled, knowing that his appearance tonight meant that he was in line for $12,000.

"Oh, don't you remember? You and I...We met a long time ago." The blonde lady smirked at him, her husband frowning at the new knowledge.

"We did?" Ray had flirted and gone out with so many women in his 33 years of living, he wasn't sure which one Debbie's mom was.

"What?" Mr Putch looked at his wife with a frown, the information apparently being a surprise to him.

"Yeah, remember the Swellview rodeo? I was a waitress and after the rodeo, you invited me back to--" Her story made the memory click together in Ray's mind.

"Ohhhh, yes. It's so great to see you again, here with your husband." The superhero felt awkward, but suddenly, everyone's eyes were on Henry and (y/n) as they came through the door. Ray's smile fell when he saw the two asking the DJ for the mic. He recalled how he left them in the Man Cave to come party, and how distraught the girl's face was as he went up the tube.

Henry snatched the mic from the DJ's hand, after (y/n) gave him some very select words.

"Hey! Everyone! Over here! Hello?" The teen called out to the crowd, and everyone looked at the two colleagues. For once in her life, (y/n) didn't feel nervous in front of the crowd. She knew she and Henry were in the right, and they were in the wrong.

"That's Henry Hart."

"Why is he here? And who's that girl?" Debbie and her mother objected.

"What happened with you and Captain Man after the rodeo?" Mr Putch asked his wife, wanting to know just how far they'd gone.

"Okay, I know everyone's freaked out to see me here 'cause of what happened last year." Henry started off.

"Sing Wrecking Ball!" Oliver Pook shouted at him, and (y/n) looked at him with a weirded-out face.

"No, we're not here to sing." (y/n) told him, pulling the microphone in Henry's hands to her lips.

"Yeah, we're here 'cause you all think I did something that I didn't do." The boy carried on from her.

"You were the only one standing by the ball machine!" Debbie yelled at him, and the people around her vocally agreed her.

"Hey, Henry! You got to try some of these meatballs!" Jasper said to him through a mouthful of food.

"Look, I get why you all thought I was the one who turned up the ball speed, but maybe it wasn't me. Maybe it was someone else. Like Charlotte." The crowd gasp at the accusation.

"She was always jealous ever since Debbie beat her in the Swellview spelling bee." (y/n) told them.

"Well, you all know that trophy should've been mine." Charlotte hissed to the crowd.

"Or, it could've been Jasper." Henry pointed to the boy who was still preoccupied with the meatballs.

"Who's never forgotten that Debbie used to mock his buckets." (y/n) decided she was the one who got to spill the tea.

"Never forget," Jasper said to Debbie as he ate another ball.

"Or maybe, it could've been Piper." Henry wasn't beneath accusing his own sister.

"Hey, I didn't even want to come to this party last year. Or this year. What am I doing here?" The little girl complained.

"Or maybe, it was Sydney or Oliver." The boys looked petrified at the allegation.

"They got detention after Debbie told the teacher that they were eating bugs." (y/n) looked to the crowd, who then stared at the gross boys.

"The point is, we know who really changed the ball speed and knocked Debbie off the roof. And we have proof!" The two smiled at the crowd and gave each other a high five when the crowd burst into a gossiping chatter.

"Then show us!" Debbie snapped.

"We will, girl, chill!" (y/n) growled back, not liking how bratty the birthday was being.

"But first, we're gonna go get ourselves a meatball. We'll be back after a short break. And then, everybody's going to know the truth!" Henry shouted into the mic, wanting to keep them all in suspense.

"Sing Call Me Maybe, lady!" Oliver yelled to (y/n).

"I'M NOT SINGING!" She screamed, making Henry grabbed her wrist and drag her to the snack table. Stuffing a few meatballs in his mouth, he looked up at the young woman and wondering why she wasn't eating. Following her eyes across the busy floor, he saw Ray talking to Miss Swellview.

"How can I apologise when all he can focus on is her?" She mumbled with glossy eyes.

"Just go up to him and say "Hey Captain Man! Can I bask in your awesomeness and speak with you for a moment?". And then he'll be all yours!" Henry joked at her, and she took in a deep breath.

"Are you sure he doesn't hate me?" he looked at the boy in his eyes.

"Yeah! He lo--knows you care about him and that you were having a rough day." Henry corrected himself before (y/n) could hear his mistake. Whilst she was mulling over his words, the teen blew out his cheeks, stressed that he nearly gave away Ray's biggest secret to the one person he wouldn't let find out.

"Okay, I'll do it. I'll go over and tell him I'm sorry and we can be friends again." She said, more to herself than anyone else, trying to gather her courage.

With a final nod to Henry, she worked her way through the crowd, dodging dancing kids and various staff members. Seeing Ray through the sea of people, she timidly walked up behind him and tapped his shoulder. He turned around, still smiling from his conversation with Miss Swellview, but when he saw who wanted him, it dropped. His stomach felt queasy, wondering if she was here to argue with him.

"Captain Man, can I speak with you?" She said to him as softly as she could. He saw how clammy her hands were and how she'd them tangled together to stop them from shaking with nerves. 

"Of course, citizen, please excuse me, Miss Swellview." Ray gave a dashing smile to the young girl, who promptly went off to talk to the birthday girl, leaving the two alone.

"So, what do you wanna talk about?" His voice was more like his normal one since it was just the two of them. He no longer needed to be a superhero despite the uniform he was wearing. When he was with her, it was like everyone else in the room disappeared and he was no longer Captain Man, just Ray and his (y/n).

"I---" Her voice broke, and her face crumpled as two days worth of tears broke free of her emotional dam. Ray reacted instantaneously, grabbing her elbows and taking her further into the shady corner. Seeing that no one was paying them any mind, for the time being, he brushed the tears off her cheeks with gloved fingers and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"I'm so sorry for being m-mean to you these past couple days, I'm s-sorry." She managed to say through her hiccups. Ray didn't reply, just gathered her in his arms and curled her into his chest. Nuzzling to his shoulder, they stayed like that for a couple minutes, just holding each other in a silent apology. Her sobbing eventually came to a stop and she pulled back with a sad smile.

"I got your shoulder wet." She said, gesturing to the dark stain on his costume.

"It's worth it to have my friend back." He smiled at her, and she giggled, everything falling back into place for them. They gave each other one final hug when she saw that Henry was ready to reveal the real culprit behind Debbie's fall.

"I should go wrap this thing up." She said to Ray and he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, the kid needs you." She gave him one last smile and walked over to Henry by the door.

"Hey! How'd it go?" Henry asked her with a smirk. In truth, he'd watched the whole thing from across the room and saw how Ray clung to her like he was afraid she would disappear if he let go.

"Good, everything's fine." She grinned at him.

"Then let's do this thing." He lifted the microphone and addressed the crowd.

"Okay, first I'd like to say... Great meatballs." He said looking at the Putch family, who all had their arms crossed.

"And now the proof that one year ago today I was not the person responsible for Debbie being knocked off the roof." Henry carried on.

"Using this phone, we will now show you actual photos taken just before Debbie's party last year." Everyone mumbled amongst themselves at (y/n)'s words as she pointed to the phone Henry was holding up. She noticed that Ray was with Miss Swellview again, but for now, she was just happy to not be fighting with him. 

"Pic one. Here you see Jasper wiping his sweaty hand on Charlotte." Henry described the picture that he mirrored on a large monitor. Charlotte turned around and looked at a guilty Jasper.

"And to the left, you can see Sydney and Oliver eating bugs. No surprise there." (y/n) pointed at the boys in the photo.

"I haven't eaten a bug since Passover!" Sydney protested, even though his words didn't help his case.

"I'm eating a bug right now," Oliver said in his monotone voice, crushing the insect between his teeth. Everyone stared in repulsion.

"But look closer and...what's that we see in the background? Hmm?" Henry refocused the group, zooming in on the picture, so they could see Piper.

""It's Henry's little sister Piper upset about something as usual," Piper said nothing but bit her lip in irritation.

"Pic two. Here we have a clearer image of Piper. And as you can see, she's really mad about her broken phone. So she's throwing it." Henry flicked to the next image, one where Piper was launching her phone across the floor, a deep scowl etched on her face.

"So what?" She yelled, starting to get nervous.

"We're glad you asked. Pic three!" Henry put up the final photo, the one with the revelation.

"Here, we can see Henry, standing innocently by the ball machine. And when we zoom in..." (y/n) had butterflies in her stomach, ready for what was coming next.

"You can see Piper's phone hitting the 11 button," Henry said. The truth was out. 

Everyone's mouths fell open in shock and Henry and (y/n) shook their hands in success, glad they had each other for support.

"Oh my god!"

"Piper did it!" Charlotte cried.

"Security!" Debbie called for the men on the doors to come and take Piper away.

"But--but...it wasn't my fault! I didn't know my phone would hit the button! I'm a victim! I'm a victim! I want to talk to a lawyer!" She shrieked as the men picked her up and dragged her through the door kicking and screaming. Once she was gone, the party resumed and Ray turned to the woman beside him.

"So, Miss Swellview, since I assume there isn't a Mr Swellview, I was wondering if you might want to..." Ray was cut off as a man came next to the beauty queen and put his arm around her.

"Walk away." He said, knowing that his status as Captain Man was imposing. With the man backing off, Ray smiled and put his arm around the girl's waist.

~

"Hey, ignore him and come party with us," Henry said, noticing that (y/n) was watching them with a downcast expression.

"I'm not so bad that I need to party with teenagers to get over how stupid I am." She chuckled, her heart softening at how sweet the kid was.

"When was the last time you just let go and had some real fun?" Henry put his hands on his hips.

"Hey! I'll have you know that I'm a real party animal under this sensible exterior. But when you run a superhero's secret hideout, your fun side falls to the back burner." She said to the boy, a hand on his shoulder.

"So let the animal out! Just come and have a good time!" She looked at Henry, then at Ray who was cuddling up to Miss Swellview and finally at the joyful kids dancing and eating their hearts out.

"Fine, but don't hold me to anything I do from here on out!" She laughed and they mixed into the crowd. 

(y/n) hadn't danced like that in ages and Henry could see the young woman in her bursting out. Her job was stressful and it meant that she often pushed the youth in her heart out of the way, so her logic and rational brain could take the reins. The kids didn't seem to mind the age gap, her bubbly and exuberant personality making her seem so much younger.

"Henry, we are so sorry we blamed you." Mrs Putch pulled them out from the dancing and Debbie looked at them with an apologetic face.

"Especially me." The girl said, but Henry and (y/n) weren't going to be angry on her birthday.

"Well, I'm sorry that my little sister almost killed you," Henry said back.

"Hey... things happen." (y/n) settled between the teens and Mrs Putch nodded at her words.

"Absolutely. Sorry I don't believe I got your name?" The blonde woman held out her hand for (y/n) to shake.

"Oh right, I'm (y/n). Henry works for me and my friend. We worked together to figure everything out." She quickly explained as she shook her hand with a smile.

"Then you're welcome to stay." Debbie smiled at the older girl.

"Mom, I'm going to jump on the trampoline right by the edge of the roof," Debbie said, turning to her mother. (y/n) thought about how bad of an idea it was but, Debbie was off before she could mention it.

"Hey, Mrs Putch?" Sydney approached her.

"Yeah?" 

"A balloon got stuck up there by that light." He pointed to the ceiling, drawing their attention to the trapped balloon.

"That could start a fire." (y/n) pointed out and Mrs Putch looked worried.

"Hey, no worries, I'll climb up there and get it." Henry offered, but (y/n) looked at him in concern.

"Woah, woah, woah, that sounds dangerous." She said, stopping Henry before he could dash off.

"Eh, this kid can handle danger. Hold my meatball." He smirked at her with a knowing look and passed her the snack. 

The two adults watched as he climbed up the lighting rig, Debbie still jumping on the trampoline.

"Yay! This is my best birthday ever." She exclaimed. Henry dislodged the balloon and threw it back onto the floor.

"I fixed it!" He yelled.

"Thank you!" Mrs Putch beamed back.

"Hey, Henry! Jump down!" Sydney shouted at his friend.

"Wait, Henry, no!" (y/n) saw what was about to happen, seeing the physics that revolved around two people jumping on a trampoline at that same time. Sadly, Henry had already let go by the time she cried out, leaving her to just what the disaster that unfolded.

The rebound from Henry hitting the opposite end of the trampoline forced Debbie over the side of the roof, echoing what happened one year ago. Everyone rushed to the side of the ledge, as Debbie screamed and Henry looked horrified. 

The poor girl was laying on top of a puppy, groaning in pain.

"Whiskers? Whiskers, are you okay?" The dog walker tugged on the leash, but the dog had been squashed by the impact of Debbie's fall.

"My name is not Whiskers." She grumbled as Mrs Putch phoned for an ambulance. Looking at Henry, (y/n) shook her head, joining him on the trampoline. 

"You really know how to find trouble, don't you?" She said to the cringing boy, who looked at her in despair.

"Oh boy, am I gonna get in trouble?" He panicked.

"Ehhh, maybe, I don't know. Technically, it was Sydney's idea, so Mrs Putch might forgive you." The woman reasoned.

"And Debbie?" They both looked down at the girl.

"Yeah, no. She's gonna hate you forever." All Henry could do was throw his head back and groan.

[toasterrrr]

shubble is actually so brave for coming out this especially to so many people like its not like its just a few friends this is the whole fucking intertnet like the whole world knows now yknow its increably hard for victims to make statements and shit and to do thsi is actually so fucking shout out to her

but the amount of people ive seen defending wilbur soot is fucking mental. use ur brain and fuck ur parasocial relationship off,, hes committed a CRIME a FULL CRIME “oh but my wilby would never 🥺🥺” YEAH WELL HE FUCKING DID DIDNT HE hes addmitted it its all be confirmed dont even bother at this point these arent “allegations” this is real life plus the tosser made the worlds second worst apology ever actually maybe idve rathered he pull out a fucking uke

“im sorry you feel that way but i dont” is the whole plot summary sorry i dont wanna support that actual bullshit fuck how can that man sit there and type out how much of a “changed man” he is in his “apology” are you thick??? say ur sorry first up ?!?! nah noone even wants ur apology say thag to shelby and all ur other mates who uve manipulated and abused not some 13 year olds on twitter who will fall to their knees no mayter what u fo

also this is coming from someone who actually really looked up to this guy, one of the only ccs i genuinely liked and he was actually a fucking big role model to me,,. hes fucked up what he did was genuinely disgusting and disturbing and i hope he gets the worst payment ever i hope all his mods quit lovejoy disbands everyone unfollows he loses all his friends. money and fame truely get to people and this is such a real and clear example of this shit

i will NOT be supporting anything he does form this momet on. ive unsubsrubied unfollowed i wont be listening to lovejoy and if i do ill probably piarte it ngl thats a thing we can do ill burn a cd or some shit idk but i wont be giving anymore money than the cunt needs you can live with out it “it saved my life HE saved my life” i can not express this enough but and fully no offense if u say that but he reallt didnt u just liked his stiff and it gave u something to live for again he did NOTHING hes just some british guy in a screen who plays some video game and sings some song hes noone he doesnt know u u dont know him

hes a fucking freak and if you think thats okay that what hes done is okay and can actually be defended your just as much of a freak and fucked in the head as he is and u need be grow the fuck up and realise how this shit is mental behaviour

to conclude:

‼️‼️‼️ FUCK WILBUR SOOT ‼️‼️‼️

[sweetdreamsjeff]

The Rebel: Patti Smith

--I bring Tim Buckley's unreleased demo of the old folk tune ‘Wayfaring Stranger’ for Patti, and she talks about how the singer/songwriter was a favourite of Robert Mapplethorpe’s back in the early Brooklyn days, and chuckles when she recalls how she and her first partner in artistic crime would neck like high school kids to the Goodbye And Hello album. She was delighted when Jeff Buckley stopped by the recording sessions and added a high, ghostly vocal part to ‘Beneath The Southern Cross’, and even more delighted when he raced home and returned to the studio with an essrage, an Egyptian instrument he used to texture the track ‘Fireflies’.--

---

Ben Edmonds, MOJO, August 1996

To R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe, she is "one of the premier artists of my lifetime – I’ve blindly stolen from her for years." To Bob Dylan, she is "still the best, you know." She is one of rock ‘n’ roll’s true originals, and on her return to the fray after eight years of joy and tragedy lived out of the public eye, Patti Smith grants Ben Edmonds the most revealing interview of her career.

PATTI SMITH IS IN FULL SWAGGER, WORKING THE ROXY Theatre stage in LA with relaxed authority. She takes the stage alone, wearing a shapeless warm-up jacket with hood tightly framing her face, to deliver a fiery reading of ‘Piss Factory’. With each succeeding song she adds band members until her musical complement is complete. Left-hand man Lenny Kaye and drummer Jay Dee Daugherty are Patti Smith Group confederates, while bassist Tony Shanahan has played with Kaye and John Cale (and backed Patti on some solo dates last autumn). This core trio is augmented by Patti’s 23-year-old poetry protege Oliver Ray on rhythm guitar and — seated stage left behind impenetrable shades and cradling his guitar like some old CBGB's bluesman — Tom Verlaine.

Smith has a couple of wild cards up her sleeve as well. She introduces Bob Neuwirth as "the person who encouraged me to sing and gave me my first start," after the legendary personage – Bob Dylan road companion, Jim Morrison babysitter, painter, filmmaker, composer of ‘Mercedes Benz’ for Janis Joplin – has sung a typically wonderful song called ‘I Don't Think Of Her’. "Bobby has a new CD out [Look Up on Watermelon Records] on which I appear," Patti announces. "It's available almost nowhere."

Her son Jackson, 13, appears plugged in and joins the troupe for a romp through – are you ready? – ‘Smoke On The Water’. Jack and guitar stand nose to nose with the amp, noodling noisily as Lenny Kaye sings Deep Purple's stirring lament for the tragic death by fire of recording equipment. Mom makes the most of her vocal cameo, belting out "Fire in the sky-eee" in the most godawful screech you've ever heard. It's a small glimpse of what the future might have held had Patti chosen to become the singer of Blue Oyster Cult (for whom she wrote songs) instead of setting off on her crusade to save the soul of rock'n'roll with The Patti Smith Group.

The band has a homemade, slightly ragtag quality that reminds this audience member of nothing so much as the earliest Patti Smith Group when it consisted of Patti, Lenny and Richard Sohl. That trio "toured" California in 1974 to "promote" ‘Piss Factory’, and you felt like you were watching something invent itself right before your eves. This mini "tour" follows almost exactly the same path, and once again you feel like you're watching something in the exhilarating process of becoming.

They attack a fair number of familiar songs – ‘Ghost Dance’, ‘Rock'N'Roll Nigger’, ‘Dancing Barefoot’ (although, curiously, nothing from Dream Of Life) – with gusto. The 10 shows opening for Bob Dylan last winter seem to have jump-started this aggregation's chemistry, and they're now also capable of moments of transcendence that rival anything Patti's bands have attained in the past. ‘About A Boy’, her meditation on the loss of Kurt Cobain, has grown from humble acoustic beginnings into an oceanic noisefield than tonight is staggering. And their ‘Wicked Messenger’ ranks with the great rock rearrangements of Dylan songs. It's a treat that such a thing remains possible in 1996.

The small acoustic shows and guest spots she's done sporadically over the past year have been tentative in tone and occasionally awkward. She is not – nor does she have the slightest inclination to be – the punk tornado who ripped through this room 20 years ago, when the Roxy was LA's premier showcase club, hosting legendary engagements by Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen and Bob Marley, and live recordings by Frank Zappa, Talking Heads, Warren Zevon and others. But she has certainly regained every bit of the belief that the space is hers to command.

The sold-out house is evenly divided between the older soldiers who served in the rock revolution Patti Smith heralded in the early '70s and those who wish they could have been there, having heard their own heroes like Michael Stipe say that were it not for Patti Smith he wouldn't exist. The R.E.M. singer has been all over MTV News this week, quoted as saying that Patti's show at the Wiltern Theatre a few days earlier had been not simply the greatest concert he'd ever seen, but one of the greatest emotional experiences of his life. *

THE PATTI SMITH RESUME: ARRIVED IN NEW YORK FROM New Jersey in 1967 and wrote herself a new identity in concert with photographer Robert Mapplethorpe; wrote plays like Cowboy Mouth with Pulitzer Prize winner Sam Shepard one line at a time, pushing a battered typewriter back and forth across a Chelsea Hotel tabletop in a game of attitude chess; published small press volumes of hallucinogenic verse inhabited by James Joyce, Johnny Ace, Jesus Christ, Harry Houdini, Joan of Arc, James Brown, Georgia O'Keefe, the Paragons and the Jesters, Picasso and Rimbaud and Bob Dylan's dog; wrote poems, profiles and record review reveries for Creem and Rolling Stone; put her big ideas into embryonic practice at her Rock'N'Rimbaud readings accompanied by guitarist Lenny Kaye at St Mark's Church, New York's new poetry nirvana; released ‘Piss Factory’ b/w ‘Hey Joe’ in 1974 on their own Mer Records, now regarded as one of the first shots fired in the punk/indie revolt (though at the time it was a shot barely heard in the next block); released in 1975 a debut album Horses, a parable in spoken word and song for the declaration of self that adolescents itchy to slip their skins will probably respond to for generations to come; sounded a clarion call with her amped-to-the-teeth Patti Smith Group that has been answered only in part by punk rockers, alterna-nerds and riot grrrls; fell from a Tampa, Florida stage in 1977 to a concrete floor 14 feet below, breaking her neck; came out of traction and back into action with ‘Because The Night’, a hit single co-written with Bruce Springsteen, yet always gave equal time to noisy improvisational epics like ‘Radio Ethiopia’ that were unplayable on any radio format (and guaranteed to scare the living piss out of anyone attracted by her Brucie ballad); announced her retirement from public life in the shadow of her biggest-selling album (Wave); and immediately following her biggest concert ever (85,000 in an Italian football stadium on September 10, 1979) quietly married former MC5 guitarist Fred 'Sonic' Smith in 1980, and moved to an unassuming Detroit suburb to raise a family. In the next decade she raised her head above the parapet only once, with her 1988 album Dream Of Life.

Since 1990, Patti has suffered the loss of four of her closest comrades. Her best friend Robert Mapplethorpe was claimed by AIDS. Her piano player (and, after Lenny Kaye, longest-serving musical ally) Richard Sohl succumbed to heart failure. Then in late '94 her husband, soulmate, and hero of so many of her best songs (‘Because The Night’, ‘Frederick’, ‘Dream Of Life’), Fred 'Sonic' Smith, suddenly passed away, a shock compounded by the death of her brother and crew manager Todd Smith only a month later.

The release of a new album, Gone Again, and a limited return to live performance is part of a plan she and Fred had mapped out before his untimely passing. Yet there's no denying that these activities have now become, at least in part, a memorial to all her fallen comrades. This mission was launched in earnest last December when, at the personal invitation of Bob Dylan, she opened 10 of his shows on the East Coast, a pairing he dubbed The Paradise Lost Tour.

"A lot of girls have come along since Patti started," Dylan told a Boston audience the first of many times they duetted on his song ‘Dark Eyes’. "But Patti's still the best, you know." Then he kissed her. *

DRIVING TO PATTI'S HOUSE, I WAS THINKING ABOUT something she had told me recently. The subject was her desire to play only those places where she'd been treated well. I wondered, then, what places this might disqualify.

"Detroit," she said without hesitation. "They've never been that supportive of our work. I don't think Fred got the support from the music community that he was entitled to. The radio stations knew who he was and what he'd done, and they should've tipped their hat to him. I guess I feel somewhat bitter about that. Not for me. I don't care; but it hurt Fred deeply."

Patti will soon be moving back to New York. This move is not unexpected. Detroit was where she came to make her life with Fred. It was his town, his family, his roots, and there's probably no place she can turn here and not be confronted by a reminder of her late husband.

This has got to be especially true of their home, which they bought, furnished, and within which they created a family. Patti and Fred even saved it together, sandbagging the place when torrential rains and a rising lake very nearly flooded them out. Because the family was so reclusive, all sorts of rumours circulated about their domestic refuge. One had them living in a sumptuous lakefront estate, another pictured them in utter sub urban tract home anonymity. Neither turns out to be accurate.

They're not on the lake, though they could most certainly see it if there weren't so many other houses in the way. They live in a normal middle-class neighbourhood where many of the smallish homes sport obvious additions to accommodate expanding families, resulting in houses that are a little too big for their modest plots but never quite big enough to contain all the kids' stuff which litters the porches and short driveways. Yet there's no doubting which is the Smith residence. It's easy to spot, being the only castle on the block. A small castle, to be sure, really no bigger than most of the surrounding homes, but a towered and turreted castle all the same.

Seen from the insight, the tower contains the winding staircase that leads to the upper floor. The house is sparsely though comfortably furnished, in casual boho. The usual family stuff is posted on the fridge and scattered about; handmade birthday and Mother's Day cards, postcards, school meeting notices. If it weren't for the guitars and amplifiers in the living room, you'd never know this was the lair of musicians. Where you might expect to find a portrait of some revered family elder hangs a picture of honorary uncle Allen Ginsberg.

Once past the idea of amps in the living room, the closest we get to rock'n'roll excess is an extravagant selection of teas. Oliver Ray brews some camomile for Patti, whose stomach is acting up.

At 48, Patti Smith's hair is unashamedly lashed with gray and worn in simple braids. Her interview demeanour is pretty much as it's always been. She considers each query carefully and answers at length, not looking at her interviewer but staring at some private point beyond the opposite wall, a safe place she always returns to. Though Patti is never at a loss for a forcefully expressed thought or opinion, whenever the conversation touches on her late husband – which is frequently – her voice falters and she has to bear down hard on her words to get them out.

I bring Tim Buckley's unreleased demo of the old folk tune ‘Wayfaring Stranger’ for Patti, and she talks about how the singer/songwriter was a favourite of Robert Mapplethorpe’s back in the early Brooklyn days, and chuckles when she recalls how she and her first partner in artistic crime would neck like high school kids to the Goodbye And Hello album. She was delighted when Jeff Buckley stopped by the recording sessions and added a high, ghostly vocal part to ‘Beneath The Southern Cross’, and even more delighted when he raced home and returned to the studio with an essrage, an Egyptian instrument he used to texture the track ‘Fireflies’.

You find yourself wanting to somehow crack the fog and get her to smile. During the second of our two interviews, conducted at her Michigan home, it is her eight-year-old daughter who unintentionally provides the cue. Patti is expounding on the divine bliss of parenthood when Jesse, who's been yakking to a friend in the other room, suddenly calls out, "Mommy, can I have a cellular phone?"

"No," Patti immediately shoots back, rolling her eyes at the cosmic timing of this interruption, and then dissolving into the best laugh I'd heard from her in a very long time.

In the words of one of those Irish poets, "the healing has begun." *

This album is unique for you in that it has so many solo songwriting credits.

Fred was giving me guitar lessons. He had taught me some chords, basically so I could write songs. We studied song structure and things I didn't know a whole lot about. He taught me enough on the guitar that, after a lot of practice, I could write simple songs. When he passed away...I just…um… I used to spend a lot of time by myself at night with the acoustic guitar just making up little songs. A lot of the songs on the record – ‘Farewell Reel’, ‘About A Boy’, ‘Raven’, ‘Dead To The World’, ‘Wing’ – were written that way late at night. They're all in waltz-time, 3/4, which is the only time signature we worked on so it's the only one I know.

The version of ‘About A Boy’ you played at the Roxy is already far beyond the album version.

That song has really grown in performance. It's the closest thing to anarchy – controlled anarchy – that we have right now, because we let the song completely open up at the end. I always like having a piece where everyone goes out but then returns. That was the beauty of John Coltrane, and what separated him from the noisemakers and indulgent jerk-offs. He would go out there and stay out there as long as he could, but he always returned. That's what we strive for.

When Kurt Cobain took his life, Fred and I were extremely disturbed about that. Both of us liked his work. We thought it was good for young people. I was happy that there was a new band I could relate to, and looked forward to watching them grow. He had a future. As parents, we were deeply disturbed to see this young boy take his own life. The waste, and the emotional debris he left for others to clean up.

I was also concerned how it would affect young people who looked up to him, or looked to him for answers. I guess that's the danger of looking to anyone else for answers, but I perceived that he had a responsibility. To himself, to the origin of his gifts, to his family, to the younger generation.

So I wrote the song for two reasons. One was as a well wish, even after what he did, that his continuing journey be beautiful. But it was also written with a certain amount of bitterness. The chorus says "About a boy/beyond it all." One way of looking at it is that he's beyond this particular plane of existence. But it's also a wry statement, a frustrated refrain. It relates to my sorrow for the various boys we've lost. Whether it be Jim Morrison or Brian Jones; any of these young, gifted, driven people who do feel they're beyond it all, that they can completely ravage and ruin their bodies or have no sense of responsibility to their position and their gifts. We all were pioneering some kind of freedom, but I don't think what's been done with it is all that constructive.

When you were that age how did you deal with those feelings?

All young people feel sometimes that they can't take it, that they'd rather die than get up out of bed. But there was always something that reminded me, it could be anything. The handiwork of man. I could be feeling totally desolate and then look at a beautiful prayer rug or a Picasso, and that would be enough to make me want to live. That's what other people's work did for me. When I say that The Rolling Stones got me through this, or Bob Dylan got me through that, they did. That in itself is a motivation for working. The act of creation is a beautiful thing. That belongs to the artist; he's got that moment of illumination, when a kernel of an idea erupts and blooms. But after he creates it, it ceases to be his. It's really for other people.

What brought you back to New York to record?

I love Electric Lady, which is where we cut Horses; it's intimate but highly developed. It's right on 8th Street, so you can walk out at three in the morning and there are people on the streets. It's a good energy. I don't require privacy and silence when I'm recording. It's the first recording studio I was ever in. The first time I ever went there was also the first rock'n'roll party I'd ever been to. Jane Friedman invited me to this party for Jimi Hendrix because he'd just opened the studio up. I was so excited because I'd never been in a recording studio before. But when I got there I was too nervous to go in, so I sat on the steps. Then Jimi came up the stairs. He was incredibly beautiful; tall, very... he was Jimi Hendrix, y'know? A great-looking man. But really shy. He came up the stairs and I was sitting there so he sat down next to me and just talked. He asked me why I wasn't going down and I told him I was too nervous. He said, "Me too, I'm too nervous to stay." Then he told me some of the things about the studio, and how he wanted to work on a more global kind of music. He said that he was going to London, but that when he came back he was gonna go up to Woodstock with new musicians and then bring them into Electric Lady to record. But of course he never came back from London... That was a great moment for me. So when Robert Mapplethorpe gave us money to do ‘Piss Factory’, even though it was not much money I had to go to Electric Lady.

The equipment has been updated, but it's got a lot of the same things – the late '60s psychedelic paintings and bad murals of Jimi Hendrix playing right-handed. It didn't really occur to me how cyclic it was until I was in the middle of it. I was standing by myself in the hallway looking at those murals, when I remembered standing in that same spot in 1975 and Robert Mapplethorpe taking a picture of me and John Cale. Lenny came out and stood next to me and said, "Amazing, isn't it?" It was like he could feel what I was feeling. The first time we were back in the studio, just hearing those Lenny guitar tones and Jay on the drums, it was so... from the subconscious. It triggered so many memories.

How was this one as a recording experience?

This album was both joyous and heartbreaking to do. We were 80 per cent done with the record and I had to stop. I couldn't take it any more because... I just really missed Fred. It was so difficult, and I was so emotionally depleted. So we stopped for a while. When we did that little mini-tour with Bob Dylan I was supposed to be finishing the record, but I still couldn't face it. But I got a lot of energy and positive feelings from the Dylan experience, and then we went in and completed the album. Those dates gave me my confidence back.

Do you know what made Bob reach out to you?

What I gleaned from Bob is that he felt it would be good for me to come back out, that he thought people should see me. I wouldn't presume to speak for him, but he has been so highly influential that he knows probably what it tasted like to be influential and then get shuffled around somewhere. I guess he felt I could use some encouragement.

We weren't prepared, but I wanted to do it so badly that we prepared ourselves practically on stage. I think we had about five hours of rehearsal. But all of us had pretty much played together, and we all pooled the things we could do. The first night was pretty shaky, but after that I felt like I was back in familiar territory. My mission on that small tour was to crack all the energy, crack the atmosphere and set the stage for him, to get the night as magic as possible, so that when he hit the stage – 'cos he hits a lot of them – that maybe it would feel a little more special. I think we did a pretty good job and I know that he was happy.

Had you been in touch with him over the years?

No, not really. I met him back in the '70s, before we even had a record deal. It was at the Other End on Bleecker Street in the Village. I was told he was in the audience, so I made a few obscure references that I knew the crowd wouldn't get, but would let him know that I knew he was there. It was kinda presumptuous, but that's the way I was then. I was thrilled that he was there, but I wasn't gonna let him know it. When he came backstage I was kinda snotty. "Any poets around here?" he said, so I said I wasn't into poetry anymore – Poetry sucks. Can you believe I said that? But he was very gracious, and even put his arm around me to have our picture taken. The next week it was in the Soho Weekly News, right on the cover, and seeing that was definitely one of my best moments ever. But it also made me kinda sad, 'cos I knew I hadn't treated him well and I felt like I'd kinda blown it, y'know?

A little while later, I was on 4th Street and I saw him walking toward me. I tried to shrink but he saw me anyway. And he was really nice. He pulled out that picture and said, "Who are these two people? Do you know them?" And he gave me this beautiful smile, just to let me know it was all right. So he's been incredibly generous and understanding toward me from the very beginning.

I've admired Bob Dylan since I was 15 years old; he's been an important part of my life for two-thirds of it now. So to have someone like that give you encouragement is... beyond words. [On the tour] we sang ‘Dark Eyes’ almost every night, and singing with him was just like being in heaven. I was so happy. I kept thinking…sometimes it made me think of Fred, because Fred really liked and admired Bob too. He often said that there were only two people that would be able to pull him out of his self-imposed retirement, Keith Richards and Bob Dylan. He'd say, "Now if Keith or Bob call and want me to play with 'em, I might have to come out." So how could I not answer the call? It was a great experience.

Do you still regard Bob with a fan's awe?

Meeting him again, I can't say I'm in awe of him. The way I relate to him at this point in my life is that he's a man that has a fine presence, a very noble presence. He's an extremely attractive man. When I talk to him I still feel sort of like a schoolgirl, but also like a friend and a colleague.

After Fred passed away, the record I most listened to for solace was Bob's album World Gone Wrong, which is all those great old blues and other songs from the trove of his knowledge. I listened to that almost continuously. Once again he helped me through a difficult time with his music. And then to have him reach out to me as a human being... I'll be forever grateful.

And this gave you the confidence to finish the record.

We'd pretty much recorded everything; most of the vocals on the record are the live vocals. It was just a question of pulling all the threads together and presenting the record. But I just... I just needed time to think about everything. We had pretty much everything cut except the title track ‘Gone Again’, which we did right before we came out here. That was Fred's last music and...um...I just wasn't able to...write the lyrics. And finally I…I marshalled my energies and did it. Lenny had a lot to do with making certain ‘Summer Cannibals’ and ‘Gone Again’ came to light. We had a lot of cassette tapes with Fred playing acoustic guitar or chanting or giving some direction...to me, 'cos he often made tapes like that so I could write lyrics. Lenny had to lovingly piece those songs together.

So many people haven't yet discovered Dream Of Life, which I think is your best album after Horses. People are going to be discovering that album for years.

I hope so, because it's the only real document we have of Fred's range, though it's still only a partial account. It's pretty much his album; I look at Dream Of Life as his gift to me. He wrote all the music, arranged everything, a lot of the song titles, the album title, the concept of the songs, especially ‘People Have The Power’, were all Fred's. I told him we should call it by both our names but he wouldn't. But he had promised me that on this album he would sing on it and we'd put both our names on it. So I was really looking forward... I thought this was going to be a great album because people would see his face, hear him sing, and he was getting interested in performing live again. But...ah...it didn't happen. Which has been the heartbreaking part of making this album for me.

There was one thing released under both your names: the atmospheric piece ‘It Takes Time’ that you did for the Wim Wenders film Until The End Of The World in 1990.

Thank you for remembering that one! I love to hear it, because Fred's reciting poetry. Again, that's almost entirely his piece. Not only did he write the music and some of the poetry, he actually dictated how he wanted me to read my parts. Oh yeah, we had some friction, some healthy friction, in the recording of that song. He was the suggester in the family. He was clearly the boss, although he liked to pretend that he wasn't...

How did you first meet him?

It was March 9, 1976, and we met in front of the radiator at that hot dog place, Lafayette Coney Island, in Detroit. The Sonic Rendezvous Band was opening for us, but I didn't know anything about him. Lenny introduced me to this guy. I heard that his name is Smith, and my name is Smith. We just looked at each other and I was completely taken by him. I had no idea who he was or anything about him until afterwards when Lenny told me. Lenny introduced me to him and said, "He's one of the great guitar players." I said, Perhaps you'll want to play with us tonight. And he said, "Maybe so." Then he left and I asked Lenny if he was really any good, and Lenny said, "The best". So I was playing with him that night, and I had a lot of bravado in those days. I didn't have respect for anybody. But I totally submitted to his reign. He came on the stage and started playing, and after a while I just set my guitar down and let it feed back. I just let him take over because I felt that I had met my match, that I had met the better man.

As I understand it, the original plan you'd developed with Fred called for you to begin re-emerging now anyway.

Yes. This would've happened. It was according to plan. A couple of years after Dream Of Life, Fred wanted us to go out with just a percussionist, Richard Sohl, him and I. It would have been more spoken art, more poetry with them doing interpretive things behind me. Fred really wanted to do that, but then Richard died suddenly. It really broke his heart, 'cos Fred was really close to Richard. So we withdrew from that idea.

Then, after a time he really felt it was time for me to walk back on stage. In his own way he had a somewhat competitive nature, and he was watching how the arena of female artists has really widened. The girls have done a great job. Now, I don't consider myself a female artist – I'm just an artist – but Fred had that bit of competitiveness. He wanted me to take a stand, I think. I actually was the one who was reticent. He felt it in me before I did.

We were gonna do pretty much what we're doing now: do a record, do dates in the summer, do things when we could. But he was... actually (her voice slows down)... looking forward to…that. So…

Are any of the songs from that period on this new album?

Two. I didn't do a lot of them, just because I couldn't. It was just too painful. Even doing those two... They're two rock songs. Fred really wanted me to do rock songs again. For all the knowledge and sophistication that Fred had acquired over the years as a musician, he always said there was always room for one more great rock song, and he never stopped trying to write it. It's just so happened to work out that the pivotal rock songs on the album are the two that Fred and I wrote together.

It's funny, but I really always wanted him to go back out. I would've been happy staying at home taking care of the kids. I really wanted the world to see him. I really loved his work, and I do regret that people didn't get to see his full range. But he was his own man, he did what he wanted. He wasn't a guy trapped in a family situation. He wanted a family deeply, and he committed himself to his family... to a fault, I think. He was a great father.

One of the main reasons that I'm able to feel no guilt, nothing but pride when I'm performing, is that I know he wanted me to do it. I never regretted my decision to stop performing. I spent the '80s studying and writing, and becoming a far more facile writer. I learned quite a bit about everything from sports to cooking, whatever I needed to learn at any given moment. And I really treasure those years. I didn't yearn for or regret the past. I didn't even think about it. I was too wrapped up in our present.

What I often did was to wake up early and write from five to seven or eight when the kids got up. I always allowed myself a time, and continued the work ethic that I had developed with Robert Mapplethorpe. No matter what was happening, even when we were sick, Robert and I always worked. Every day. It was sort of a pact we made, and I've kept to that.

I've learned that I don't need to smoke pot all night and then at three in the morning write my poem. I had to learn a whole different system of creation. If I have from five to seven to do my work, then that's when I'll do it. I've completely grasped the fact that it comes from within me, and I take it wherever I go. Whether I'm in a prison in French Guyana or in my laundry room. You don't have to be the victim of inspiration. I learned a lot of things from Fred...

The recent Mapplethorpe biography painted you as a prisoner of Fred's tyrannical whims.

Oh, please... I made a decision about the kind of life I wanted to live. I made it, and I have never even once – never! – regretted making it. I mean, I missed my friends, I missed the camaraderie of the band, I missed certain things. Even though sometimes it was difficult, to me it was a privilege to be with him. I only regret that he's gone. I don't regret nothing else.

It was a treat to see Bob Neuwirth at your Roxy show.

I met Bobby around 1969 at the Chelsea Hotel. I was still kinda hoping to be a painter at that time, but it was beginning to become clear to me that it wasn't my beat and so I was writing quite a bit. I was in the lobby of the Chelsea and I had a notebook. "Hey poet," I remember him saying. "Well, you look like a poet. Do you write like one?" Defiant, very challenging. I thought, Whoah, Bob Neuwirth! He was in Don't Look Back. That's his leg on the cover of Highway 61 Revisited! So I gave him my notebook, and he read it and actually thought about it. He took me under his wing. He was a bit older than me, and really like a brother. He was very kind to me, but tough too. He taught me a lot, and helped me start to develop some sense of myself as a writer. At the same time he introduced me to a world that I hadn't been privy to. He introduced me to all kinds of people – Janis Joplin, the Grateful Dead – and introduced me in a way that they treated me respectfully.

After that I met Sam Shepard and he was the same way. He really felt that I was a good writer. He encouraged me to the point of conceit, nearly. He really made me feel good about myself, and made it seem important that I keep writing. He and Bobby did a lot to instill in me not only the desire to keep writing, but they made me feel that I was a writer. That's an important step. I had always felt different from other people, a misfit and an alien, but I never really gleaned myself as being special. Other people seemed to pull it out of me, whether it was Robert Mapplethorpe, Sam Shepard or Bobby Neuwirth. I've been very lucky in my life to have people perceive something in me that I didn't always perceive in myself.

When I called your hotel in San Francisco, you were out and they told me that Todd Rundgren had come by with his kids to pick up yours. That seemed like another nice full circle.

Yes. He was very important to me in those early New York days too. I think it was Bobby Neuwirth who introduced me to Todd. And Todd had been so good to Jackson. He let Jack play this beautiful Gibson of his on stage, and then let him take it on the rest of the tour. Todd's another person who really encouraged me. Todd actually thought I had a future as a comedian. I did too.

You mean we almost had Patti Lee Smith in stand-up comedy?

I had that daydream for years. I used to pretend that I went on the Johnny Carson show. He really liked me, and then he got sick and asked me to take over the show until he got better. And I did so well that when Johnny retired he gave me his show. It was one of my favourite daydreams. I still make use of my Johnny Carson studies, as you've probably realised. All the sparring I do, being able to take what hecklers dish out and one-up them, is from years of studying Johnny.

I wasn't really a '60s person. I had lived a fairly sheltered life in South Jersey. I came to New York in 1967, but I lived with Robert Mapplethorpe in Brooklyn. I spent that time working to be an artist or supporting Robert, and I really didn't go through all those '60s changes. I wasn't really involved in the political scene. I was frightened by the '60s, really. The masses of people and all the assassinations and the drug culture and the war in Vietnam...I found all of this overwhelming.

The one positive thing is that I did get a sense of the collective, that there was some sort of unspoken unity thing happening. Even though I was chronologically the same age, I felt younger because I was a bit behind. So I observed it from a slightly different perspective. What I like about it was how it produced its own networking tools, whether publications like Crawdaddy, Creem and Rolling Stone, or underground radio. Number one, of course, was the music itself, which was something new. Generations before us went wild over Benny Goodman or Frank Sinatra, but they didn't necessarily say anything. But our music was in concert with who we were.

So I did learn some good lessons from the '60s. I looked at the best of it, and what I thought would happen is that the '70s would come along and be even better. But then what I saw was the people losing interest, becoming more self-oriented, and I was very concerned. I was sort of disappointed with my own people. I didn't like what I saw, and that inspired me to do the kind of work that I did.

I understand it was Lenny and your brother Todd who helped you through the desolate time after Fred passed away.

Between Lenny and my brother, they wouldn't let me get too deep down. The minute Fred passed away, my brother got on a plane and came out. He devoted the rest of his life – which only turned out to be one month – to getting me back on my feet. Todd was one of those workaholic types who work around the clock and never take vacations, but he left work immediately and came and stayed with me.

Then at Thanksgiving we all went back to my parents', and I was having an extremely difficult time. We always went back to New Jersey for Thanksgiving, and this was the first time without Fred in 16 years. I could hardly even rise in the morning. So Toddie came in and said, "C'mon babe, get dressed," and he made me get in the car. He rolled down the windows – he actually had a car where you had to roll down the windows! –and put on a cassette of the Natural Born Killers soundtrack. Our song ‘Rock'n'Roll Nigger’ is on that, and he turned it up as loud as he could get it, and we drove around to all our old hangouts and the places we used to play when we were kids.

Todd really loved that song, and he played it over and over, singing at the top of his lungs. He was going, "You're gonna be all right. You're gonna get back to work. Fred wanted you to and you're gonna do it and I'm gonna help you do it. Even if I have to quit my job to go on the road with ya, we're gonna pull everything up." He was so full of energy and love and enthusiasm that he made it difficult to disbelieve him. I wasn't familiar with that soundtrack, and he said, "There's another little song on it you'll like." So we parked in front of Hoedown Hall and Thomas's Field where we used to play, and this song came on. It was Bob Dylan singing "See the pyramids along the Nile..." [‘You Belong To Me’]. Fred used to sing that song to me, and I sat there and cried listening to Bob sing it. We had been talking about Dylan and how great he was; again, Toddie would have loved being a part of that tour.

We talked and talked, and he stayed for another couple of days. He wouldn't let me not feel good; it was his mission. He said, "We're gonna spend Christmas together and we're gonna get back on our feet." Todd went back to Virginia, and right after that he suffered a stroke and passed away. Which isn't at all uncommon on my side of the family. It was really terrible, but after the shock of losing him I found that he had made me feel so good, and had brought up my spirits so much, that I made a decision. Since his last mission in life had been to get me feeling good, I wasn't going to have his mission be in vain. So even now when I feel... you know... I just think about that.

You have to let your loved ones go, even as you cherish their spirit as you move forward. Which is difficult, but very important. Then, because of the kind of person I am, I also feel it is my mission to do something in their honour. Like I keep working and collaborating with Robert. [The Coral Sea, her tribute to Mapplethorpe featuring many of his photographs, will soon be published by W.W. Norton.] I have many things to do for Fred, not only in terms of work but of course the lifelong mission of watching over our children. With my brother, my mission is to feel good, be happy and do my work. So in those ways…as deeply as I miss all of their earthly presences, they're still around. Very much around.

"Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine" is a line that will forever be associated with you. How do you view it now?

I wrote that line when I was 20 years old. A lot of people misinterpreted it as the statement of an atheist, somebody who doesn't believe in anything. I happen to believe in Jesus. I never said he didn't exist. I only said that I didn't want him to take responsibility for my actions. Because I was young, I perceived myself as an artist, and the artist as a sort of cerebral criminal. I wanted the freedom to pursue all the things I imagined. Things within my art, not in life. In my art, I wanted the right to be misguided, misdirected, slightly criminal, utterly promiscuous, even a murderer. Within the realm of my work. I didn't want to be weighed down with such a conscience that I couldn't trample the earth, every junkyard and every cloud. I wanted to be free of conscience. I wanted free rein.

Over the years I got into studying Christ, reconsidering Him in Pasolini terms: Christ as revolutionary, a person who felt akin to our people. I found, as I got older and studied deeper, His roles, His ideals, His philosophies a lot more interesting. To the point that at our last show in Florence in '79, which was the last time I did that version of ‘Gloria’, I sang, "Jesus died for somebody's sins, why not mine?" I probably would not sing that original line now. Not because I think there's anything wrong with it, just because I don't identify with it now.

You always operated from the belief that rock'n'roll was a force for good. With all that's happened in the culture, do you still think that? Or has this belief in some way been perverted?

Well... I think everything gets perverted. But I'm not really concerned with how it gets perverted up in the mainstream, because that's business. I don't have the time or energy to pioneer against big business at this point in my life. Young people can do that.

I like the way young people are interacting globally. I like the alternative networking they're doing. I'd like to see them develop that, and start seeing what they can do collectively to better our situation on the planet. This planet is in deep trouble. What are we seeing? A resurgence of communicable diseases like tuberculosis, we have AIDS; the whole planet is becoming very viral. I'm not saying we can stop it, but only we can reduce all of these things.

Is music the same energy source for kids today that it was for us, or is it even possible that it can be?

I think there's so much stuff now. Look when we grew up. When I was a kid TV was black and white and there were three stations. They only had cartoons on Saturday morning. The records would come out, it's a big album, you have a big record player, you go home and put it on the record player, you sit and listen to it and really digest what the music’s saying. It was its own experience.

Music is still a powerful force – if you have a powerful individual – but I think it's a lot more convoluted now, if that's the right word.

You and Fred talked about not doing anything for personal gain, that it would have to benefit someone else. How do you reconcile that with everything that's happening now?

With this little tour we're not making any money; we're pretty much breaking even. We did a benefit for an AIDS hospice in San Francisco, and benefits will continue to be a big part of our agenda. I have to get back on my feet, truthfully. If it starts building and things go well, I look forward to a time where I never have to take a cent for hitting the stage. I'm watching people in rock'n'roll make millions and millions of dollars. I see a lot of my friends who've gotten extremely prosperous, and I think they should be doing a lot more. I don't mean giving an autographed guitar to charity. I mean, if you already have $20 million in the bank, take 10 million and find the people that are doing the strongest AIDS research and just give it to 'em. I would encourage performers to take the money they make on stage and give it to the people who need it.

When you first came around the mission was to keep alive and free a certain rock'n'roll spirit. Is the mission this time about this different, though related, spirit? The responsibility that comes with freedom?

I think so. A lot of the things we attempted to do in the '70s were accomplished. Like T.S. Eliot said, each generation translates for itself. I done what I was supposed to do when I done it. It's not my place to do it now. I wouldn't even know how to. All I know is that the planet is full of hands needing to be helped, and I'm trying to see what I can do to get things motivated in a new way. I still think it has to be revolutionary. We still need to redesign stuff.

People are making comeback tours and farewell tours, they're going on Unplugged and they're picking up their lifetime achievement awards. But what are they really doing? I think we've gotten way too cute with all these tons of awards we're giving to each other. Too much bullshit, too much cute stuff. The Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame. It's another money machine. I did appear at one of those to induct the Velvet Underground. I did that out of respect to the Velvets, and because that recognition meant something to them. But I feel about the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame pretty much the way Fred did: that we should be ashamed. The spirit should be the museum.

‘Piss Factory’ is still one of your more resonant works. But those women you described with such disdain – "these bitches are just too lame to understand/too God damn grateful to get this job to know they're getting screwed up the ass" –with all you've lived since, I'm wondering how you'd regard them now?

Oh, I'd be a lot more compassionate now. Not necessarily for their stupidity, because some of their rules and codes I would still rail against. But being hard-working women... maybe their husband's dead, or their husband took off and they've got six kids to look after. So yes, much more empathy, compassion. Much more respect.

When I was younger, I really felt completely there for the misfit, the person outside society. Artists, and people on the fringes, whether because of their philosophies or sexual persuasion or politics. And I still feel akin to those people, 'cos I'm still one of them. But I've been through so much... life – being a mother, being a widow, being a laundress, all the things I do – that I definitely feel more empathy, a more common bond with people. When I was younger I had so much intensity that it got to the point where I felt I was in a whole other realm. I don't feel that so much – I feel a lot more human these days.

© Ben Edmonds 1996

Michael Stipe on Patti

UNLIKE THE OTHER GUYS IN THE BAND, WHEN WE started I didn't have any particular understanding of the standard history of the pop format, so I pretty much learned as I went along. I had virtually no musical background. I pretty much ignored music until I was about 15 years old, and at the high school that I went to – which was in Illinois in the very heart of middle America – heavy metal ruled. My parents listened to Gershwin, Mancini, Wanda Jackson and the soundtrack to Dr Zhivago. That's all I heard.

I accidentally got a subscription to the Village Voice when I was 15. Right about that time – middle to late 1975 – they were talking about this thing that was going on in New York with Television and Patti Smith and the Ramones and CBGB's. I distinctly remember the November 1975 issue of Creem magazine. Someone had left a copy in study hall under a chair. It had a picture of Patti Smith, and she was terrifying looking. She looked like Morticia Addams. And I think it was Lester Bangs or Lisa Robinson writing about punk rock in New York and how all the other music was like watching colour movies, but this is like watching static-y black and white TV. And that made incredible sense to me. I read about those bands before I ever heard them, and it just sounded so amazing.

Horses, the first Patti Smith album, came out soon afterwards and it pretty much tore my limbs off and put them back on in a different way. I was 15 when I heard it, and that's pretty strong stuff for a 15-year-old American middle-class white boy, sitting in his parents' living room with the headphones on so they wouldn't hear it. It was like the first time you went into the ocean and got knocked down by a wave. It killed. It was so completely liberating. I had my parents' crappy headphones and I sat up all night with a huge bowl of cherries listening to Patti Smith, eating those cherries and going. Oh, my God!... Holy shit!... Fuck!... Then I was sick.

© Michael Stipe 1996

[coffeecat1983]

Then and Now: Library (Mario movie fluff)

A fluff piece about the Bros first visit to the Brooklyn Public Library, feat Tony and Arthur.

8-year-old Luigi held tightly to his mother's hand as he stuck close to her side, eyes wide as he looked around the big building. Mario, meanwhile, was taking it all in with a vibrant excitement. Both were clutching their own red and green book bags.      "We can really get our own library cards?" he asked. Giovanni nodded, a smile on his face. It was the weekend and Giovanni and Marianna decided to treat the boys to their first trip to the main Brooklyn Public Library. Arthur and Tony had tagged along.      "You boys are old enough and have shown you can take care of your things, so I think you can have the responsibility of taking care of library books." Giovanni said.      "Not just the books, either," Marianna added, "there's music and movies, too."    Luigi perked up. "Music?" he asked softly, squeezing her hand. He looked around again. "It's so big here." he shrunk back, trying to hide in the folds of her skirt. A warm hand was placed on his shoulder, and he looked up at his Uncle Tony's understanding smile.      "How about you stick with me, kiddo?"    Marianna gave them an approving nod as Luigi took Tony's hand. She glanced around.      "Looks like Gio went over to the movies already." she commented. Arthur reached for Mario's hand.      "Hey kid, lemme show you where the comic books are."    Mario practically bounced as his uncle led him off into the Brooklyn Library. 

   Marianna turned to Tony and Luigi. "I'm off to the fiction section, you two have fun!"    They waved to her, and Luigi tightened his grip on Tony's hand. His uncle squeezed back, kneeling to get eye-to-eye with him. "I know it's a big place, and kinda scary, but I promise you'll like it here. C'mon," he stood, "lemme show you around."      "Ma said there was music here?" Luigi kept his voice soft, having seen the 'Please, quiet when in the library' signs that were placed around.      "There's lots of it, we can go there first, if you want."    Luigi nodded, so they headed that way. Reaching the rows of CDs and Records, Luigi let out a soft "Wow" at the sight. He let go of Tony's hand but stayed close by, looking through the collection. Tony meanwhile began flipping through the vinyl. Luigi recognized the records; he had seen them and the turntable in the Twins' apartment. Moving from the CDs, he spied hanging bags with something small in them. He picked one up.      "Uncle Tony, what are these?" he held it up. Tony snort-laughed, reaching for it.      "Way to make me feel old, kiddo. That's a cassette tape. You remember that big stereo your Uncle Art and I have? The one you're allowed to put CDs in?"    Luigi nodded. He liked that stereo; the speakers were big, and he could feel the music travel through the floor and into his feet when they were allowed to play it.      "Remember that little door on it?" Tony continued, "That's the tape player. It can play those. In fact, let me see here..." he came over and looked through the tapes. "Ah, here we go." He held one up, Luigi could make out the names 'Abbott and Costello' on the label. Tony slipped it into his own book bag. "This'll be a treat for you boys."    After browsing and picking out more music, Tony led the way back towards adult fiction.      "Just want to grab something from here then I'll show you the kids section." he explained. This part of the library was older, the lights not quite as bright, windows looking out to neighboring buildings that blocked the sun. As Tony looked over the books, Luigi clutched his little book bag tightly, nervously glancing around. Another patron walked past, their echoing footsteps making Luigi squeak. He ran over and hid behind Tony, grabbing onto his coat.      "Hey, hey it's okay, kiddo." Tony soothed, putting an arm around him. "Nothing's gonna hurt you here."      "A-Are there ghosts here? Like in G-Ghostbusters?" Luigi asked urgently. Tony's shoulders slumped.      "Hoo boy, maybe your Uncle Art was right, we should have waited with that movie." he muttered. "No, kiddo, no ghosts, just old books, I promise." He dropped a book into his bag.      "I found what I wanted, how about we get out of here and go find some comic books or something?"    Luigi just gave a faint nod, still looking nervous.

   The children's section was bright, well lit, and a bit louder than the rest of the library. Luigi's eyes lit up when he spotted Mario sitting at one of the little tables with a stack of graphic novels and comic books. As he rushed over to sit with him, Arthur came over to Tony, clapping a hand on his shoulder.      "Like lookin' into a mirror from way back, isn't it?" he said. "We were about their age when we first came here, right?"    Tony pushed on his glasses. "Yeah, seven or eight. Speaking of their age, got something here I thought we could read to them." he reached into his bag and held up the book. Arthur grinned, his eyes sparkling.      "I call dibs on Gandalf's lines."      "You can't call dibs!" Tony grumbled, "We each get a few pages, you know the rules."  Arthur rolled his eyes. "Fine, but we do the songs together."      "Works for me, just don't go singing out of tune."      "The old movie songs?" Arthur asked.      "You know it." Tony smirked. The twins turned as Giovanni and Marianna came over to get them and the Bros.      "Looks like you boys had fun," Giovanni said, eyeing the stack of comics that Mario was loading into his book bag. Marianna took Luigi's hand. "Did you like it, sweetheart?" she asked. Luigi beamed at her. "Yeah, can we come back again?"    Giovanni laughed. "Every two weeks, we gotta return stuff then anyway." As they headed up front and began to check out, Tony showed Giovanni the book he had picked out. His older brother's expression softened at the sight.      "Thought Art and I would read it to the boys." Tony explained.      "Just like I read it to you two. Care if I listen in sometime? It's been a long time since I read it."    Tony felt a rush of excitement at the thought. "I'd like that, Gio. I'd like that a lot." He glanced at his twin. "I think Arthur would, too."

   That night, after the Bros were all tucked in for bed, Tony and Arthur sat side by side. Giovanni stood in the bedroom doorway. Tony opened the book and began.      "In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit..."

By "CC"

[madisonrooney]

I hope this isn't too personal or anything but what kind of relationship do you have with Dove? Do you have her phone number and actually talk to her or is it more of a fan level relationship? I'm not trying to be mean or anything I'm just a new follower and don't know a whole lot

we're married /j

no youre totally fine!! it is a fan relationship but like to the extent that she knows who i am, remembers me, remembers details about me, etc. and ive met her many times over the last 8 years

ill put it in under read more for the people that have already heard these stories hundreds of times lol

i first met her at d23 expo 2015 when i was cosplaying as maddie. was absolutely sobbing when i met her and she started to tear up herself. she called me honey and sweetheart and rocked me back and forth while i hugged her still bawling lol

my first liv and maddie taping was about 2 months later and when i reminded her who i was (she didnt know right away but i get that since i wasnt wearing glasses or a ponytail) she jumped out of her chair hugged me and said HI SWEETY and wouldnt let me go even when jordan fisher started talking to me lol (he recognized me too) she told me my cosplay made her whole weekend.

we had some more great interactions at the next few live tapings. at the last one with a meet and greet, she said "i know you!!" right when she saw me. i mentioned my mom coming to the following taping (which sadly never happened bc it was cancelled) and she was like "ive never met your mom!!" and the fact that she was aware of that and saw it as something important warmed my heart.

about a year passed without seeing her but i saw her again at the 2017 rdmas which was the first time she said "i love you" to me without me saying it first. this was around when she really started to remember me without me having to reintroduce myself.

the rise of the isle of the lost book launch was the following month and she said she loved that im always at these events. 2 months later was d23 again and she said "hi love!! how are you!?" when i got my descendants 2 cd signed by her.

one of my favorite interactions was 2 weeks after that at the stage door of mamma mia at the hollywood bowl. right upon seeing me she said "hi baby!!," hugged me, and asked how id been in the last two weeks since we'd seen each other. at the time, i didnt know when id see her again so i took a moment to remind her how much she means to me and she said "you are an angel in my life."

a random meet and greet came up a few months later for her hair extension line where i was once again greeted with an immediate "hi baby!!" and hug. when i walked away and waved goodbye she shouted "i love you!!"

another favorite was at a panel for agents of shield the following year that happened in nyc when i just so happened to be there for spring break. as she walked in the room while they were playing a clip, she quietly said hi to people and gasped upon seeing me, gave me the usual "hi baby!" and stopped on her way to the stage to give me a hug. after the panel, she said goodbye to everyone, saying "i love you, i love you, i love YOU" and hugged me again saying "thank you for being here as always"

8 months later was the first preview of clueless the musical which i went back to nyc specifically for. this was another all time fav interaction. her face lit up when she saw me in the stage door crowd. when she was done meeting other fans, i once again got hi baby, "so good to see you," and her telling me she saw me in the audience + proving she meant it by telling me where i was (so she def saw me drooling over her for 2 and a half hours...but she probably expected that from me). i met thomas that night as well and my mom was with me too and she said "hey babe, they approve of you! and theyve been around longer than you have!"

about half a year later was disney channel fan fest where i once again got a hi baby when i was next in line plus a cute little dance over to me that lead into hug when i walked up.

that was my last interaction pre-covid and the only ones ive had since (save for her 2021 concert where we did interact but im not certain she knew it was "me" bc we didnt like talk and i was wearing a mask) have been at the cameron boyce foundation gala where ofc shes still sweet to me but naturally shes not as excited or talkative given that were mourning someone. but last year, she said "hi babe!" and gave me a hug. i didnt get to talk to her much then but this year i wanted her to know that even tho i wasnt able to show it for a while bc of quarantine that im still supporting her every step of the way and she brushed my arm sweetly and thanked me. she blew my friend and i kisses when she left and told us she loved us.

worth noting tho that the only social media interactions weve had have been her liking a handful of my comments on instagram and tiktok, and i cant even be sure that she knows the comments shes liking are from "me." i have too much social anxiety to be on stan twitter, so we dont communicate over social media at all or anything. but she knows me on a face to face basis and knows ive been there from the beginning and have gone to lengths to see her in her biggest moments.

[ota-division]

Chinami's Thoughts on Kobe Division

Ren Nakashima

Sitting on her legs, Chinami silently meditates as she silently breathes in and out. She sits in that position for a prolonged period of time until she hears a small alarm go off to the side of her. Feeling around for the small clock, she pushes a button on it, turning it off. Standing up, she reaches for her walking cane and heads to her scrying table. As always, she begins discerning the futures of one of the division teams. Her choice today is one of the newer teams to appear, Kobe Division.

"Nakashima Ren."

The crystal ball shows a young boy of seven or eight with ebony-colored hair sitting on the shoulders of a man with similar facial features. They are both in a crowd with numerous other people in a large setting. It is loud and chaotic as everyone's attention is on the scene in front of them: a group of up to six musicians are on a stage playing a popular rock song. The boy's eyes shine as he listens to everything that his ears are being subjected to: the shredding of the guitar, the thumping of the bass, the pounding of the drums, and the loud, shrill yet melodic voice of the singer. It was at this moment that the boy made his decision: this was what he wanted to do with his life.

The scene changes showing the boy a little older as he is sitting at his desk in his room. Behind him are a bunch of crumpled-up sheets of white paper. Beside him, standing near the wall was an acoustic guitar, which his father had gifted to him for his 13th birthday. It wasn't as good as an actual guitar, but all musicians had to start somewhere, right? Of course, all musicians also needed to be good at writing songs, which he was struggling with. He scratches his head with his free hand, while his other one writes down some words on the paper. He silently mouths the words, picturing how they would sound in a song. He does that a couple of more times before a familiar frown appears on his face. He takes the paper he is writing on and crumples it up, tossing it over his shoulder as it joins the other discarded papers on the floor.

He sighs as he leans back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling, as if hoping that some sort of inspiration would appear out of thin air and give him something to write about. He sighs again and scratches his head, closing his eyes as he thought about certain themes that may sound good. The war to be a rock legend was not an easy one. Somedays, he was defeated before he even tried. Sighing, he stood up from his chair and lied down on his bed. Picking up some headphones that were next to him, he placed them on his head and hit the 'Play' button on a CD player. Soon after, he let himself drift away as he listened to the lyrics produced by those who had come before him.

The scene changes to show the boy, now a few years older, inside a music room in a studio. He is singing a song into a mic as a producer, outside the room, listens to him, occasionally nodding his head to the beat. He'll admit, when the talent agent first brought this kid in, he thought he was losing his touch. After years of working in the industry, the producer had seen a lot of people with "supposed" talent step into the business, thinking they were "all that and a bag of chips", only to find out that they were just like every other wannabe musician out there, with no talent, whatsoever.

Thankfully, this kid wasn't one of those. He had talent, and though it needed some polishing, he had a good singing voice to match. He gave the musician a nod, which was his way of saying 'he did good'. Of course, the young man didn't need an old geezer like him to tell him that. He knew he was still a novice in the music business. But he was going to make it. He owed it, not only to himself, but also his younger siblings, and his father, God rest his soul. A confident grin plants itself on his face as he walks out of the music room, with the scene ending shortly after.

The final scene plays out showing the boy now in his current form. He is on stage at a concert, playing and singing his heart and soul out, much to the admiration of the thousands of fans who had come out to see the legendary "Vox" in attendance. His hair sways in the wind as he continually moves his body to and fro to the rhythm of the song, whilst still strumming his guitar. As he moves, he spots a young boy in attendance on top of a much older man, and he can't help but see himself in that kid. His life hasn't been perfect, but he is sure that he is living the dream that he wanted to live.

...Of course, as stated before, the boy's life hasn't been easy. Though he has fame and fortune now, those quickly can be taken away from him. In his quest to find one who truly understands him, he has to do away with those who get in his way. Will he someday be able to find the one who he has claimed as his muse? Or will he eventually fade away, along with his music career, into obscurity?

Max Soukoku

"Soukoku Max."

The scene on the crystal blue opens up to show a medium-sized log cabin built in the middle of a large forest. Despite how isolated it is from everything, it still looks hospitable and safe enough for someone to live in. Outside of the shack, a large silver cage can be seen, the kind you'd normally reserve for a dog, a pet, or some other wild animal. But the being inside the cage, it was an animal... just not the kind that walked on four legs. It was a human; more specifically, a young human boy, no more than four or five. He is staring out at nothing, save for what it's front of him as he uses the knife in his right hand to repeatedly stab his left hand.

Most people wouldn't do such a thing due to the pain and anguish one would generally feel. But that feeling was completely foreign to the boy. He never knew anything about pain ever since he was three years old. Did he get weak from blood loss? Of course. But the feeling of being hurt, bruised, or anything else meant nothing to him. And really, he was only doing this because he was upset. Why was he trapped in this cage? Why was he being held like a prisoner? He didn't know, but he knew he didn't like it. The scene ends as he repeatedly keeps stabbing himself, letting the red liquid make a small puddle beneath him.

The scene changes showing the boy a few years older. He is outside this time, walking around a large city. He didn't know where he was, but he didn't care. Anything was better than being caged up like some animal. This wasn't the first time he had been out. In fact, he had escaped many times, after he had learned how to pick the lock on his cage. His father never knew about his escapades. The boy always made sure to return home before it got really dark, which was usually when his dad returned. The boy had never been caught in all of his three years, so why should they change now? And even if he was caught, well... he figured he'd burn that bridge when he got to it.

Today was a day of excitement. It was his first time inside the city, and his first time inside this place... this place filled with many aquatic animals. He never knew places like this existed. It was really fascinating! He was so enthralled by all he saw, he failed to notice that he had caught onto the lower part of his pants, causing him to trip over them. He frowned as he hated falling down. He didn't feel pain, but he hated the ground, especially lying on it.

As he prepared to stand, he looked as a hand was extended to him. He looked up at the person's face, and looked as it belonged to a girl with a black bob-cut hairstyle. As he stared up at her, it seemed as if all time had stopped for him. Being locked in a cage for most of his life, he never had much human interaction before. The only interaction he had was with a man whom he deeply despised. So things, like: love, affection, pleasure. All of those were foreign to him. ...But now, at this very moment, as he took the hand that was offered to him and stood up on his own two feet again, he liked this feeling. It was foreign and weird, but he liked it. He really liked it.

The scene changes again showing the boy, now much older than before. He is standing over the body of an old man in a business suit, a bloody hatchet in his right hand in an office. Of course, calling it an office would be a bit of a stretch. The entire scene looked like something out of a B-rated horror movie. The victim's body was scattered all over the room, with almost all of his body parts thrown this way and that way. And the blood... it never ceased to amaze the boy how a human could have so much blood. Almost all of the victim's blood had turned the royal blue carpet in the room, completely red.

The boy stares down at the man, a neutral look on his face. This wasn't the first man that he had killed, and it wouldn't be his last. Honestly, he didn't even know this poor bastard. He never did anything to the kid. So why did he kill him then, you ask? Simple. It's cause it was his job. Plain and simple. Speaking of which, he knew he'd need proof that the job had been completed. Looking at the dead carcass of the victim, the boy, nonchalantly, picks up the victim's head, his scared features still visible on his face. Figuring that this would be proof enough, he turned around and began walking out of the room. He stopped once, simply to wipe some blood off of his cheek, which wasn't his obviously. The scene ends as he vanishes from sight.

The scene changes once more, showing the boy in his current form. He sighs as he reaches his current destination: a large high school. He was instructed by his leader that he was to attend high school to give him a cover. He didn't know why he had to bother. If anyone found out what he did for a living, he'd just kill them. Simple, right? But the leader's orders were orders. And it wasn't all bad. Most people had the sense to leave him be. And those that didn't... well, he made sure that they wouldn't bother him again after he was done with them. ...Or anyone else, for that matter. The boy's life is certainly not straightforward. But he's not complaining.

...Still, it begs the question of what will become of the boy when both his crimes and his past catch up to him. Though the injuries inflicted on his body are of no consequence, what about the injuries inflicted on his mind? Has the years of so much pain and turmoil done away with what little morality he has left? Is he an unfortunate victim of circumstance? Or the immoral villain in someone else's story?

Kaiji Sano

"Sano Kaiji."

The scene opens showing a young boy of seven or eight walking through a school. ...Though he is a boy, it is very hard to tell due to his effeminate appearance. Of course, his appearance never bothered him or his family. He couldn't help the fact that he looked like a female. He was just born that way. And there was little he could do about it.

...So why did everyone else have to make a big deal about it? Even now as he walked down the hallway to his classroom, he could feel the dozens of eyes staring at him, the murmurs and whispers of not only his peers and classmates but also some of the teachers and staff. He hated it. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Why bully and make fun of him for something he had no control over?! It wasn't fair! He hated it! He kept his head down as he let his feet, which were getting heavier and heavier with each step, as if they were being weighed down by some invisible force, guide him to his destination. ...Though where he was going was no better. At least outside of a class, he could hide and run away. You couldn't do that in a closed environment...

The scene changes showing the boy a bit older. Unlike before, he seems to be a lot happier. The reason? Because he was finally being true to himself. He was currently wearing a white, flowing dress with his hair in pigtails. He also had some lipstick and makeup on, making him look completely like an ordinary female. He wasn't ashamed or embarrassed. He liked wearing this stuff. It made him feel more... lovable, at least to himself. ...And to one other person. Speaking of which, the boy looked as a bespectacled boy, who was a bit older than him, walked to him, taking his hand. The two smile at each other and walk into the school building together as the scene ends on a happy note.

The next scene plays out, showing the boy again, though he is worse for wear compared to his last appearance. He is walking down a street, jumping out at every little thing that either passes him or makes a noise. It was plain to the naked eye that the boy was suffering from something. He was rubbing his arms, vigorously and looking every which way. Despite it being a cloudy day with the wind blowing, he was sweating profusely and his heart was constantly thumping against his chest as if someone were using it as a drum set. ...Yes, these were all tall-tell signs of an unfortunate disease that many people who had gone long without a certain "need" or "want" suffered from. And that disease was called "withdrawal".

A wise man once stated, 'All it takes is one.' What he meant was, all it took was just one try or one temptation to get a person completely hooked or addicted to something. And in the young boy's case, it was methylenedioxymethamphetamine. That was the scientific name for it, anyway. On the streets, it had a variety of nicknames. The most well-known was 'Molly'. People in the U.K. referred to it as 'Mandy'. Some called them 'happy pills'. And some people preferred to call it 'Ex', as it was a shortened form of the drug name, itself. And that drug was called 'ecstasy'.

But at the moment, the boy, who was still walking down the street, anxious and alert, didn't care what it was called. All he knew right now was that he needed to get his hands on that stuff, ASAP! But with no money in his pockets, he had no way of acquiring it. But he had to get some! He just had to! Even... even if it meant stealing from and betraying the trust of the one whom he had come to admire and adore...

The scene changes showing the boy again. He is currently lying on a hospital bed, which he is strapped in. His condition from the last scene hasn't changed much. In fact, he looks worse for wear. His eyes are bloodshot red, his hair is frazzled and he was breathing heavily. It was obvious that he was still going through signs of withdrawal. Before, his only issue was figuring out how to acquire funds to get the product. But now, he couldn't get some even if he had money! Why? Because his family had forced him into this hell-on-earth called a rehabilitation clinic, or 'rehab' for short.

How could they do this to him?! So he had a problem with drugs. That was no reason to go to these extremes! No one wanted to help him! Everyone was against him! His family, his peers, even his former ex! ...His ex... Just the thought of that bespectacled boy was enough to send the boy over the edge as he felt himself screaming! As if on command, a female doctor along with some male nurses appeared. The boy knew what was coming next as the nurses held him down while the nurse injected him with some sort of strange drug. In a few seconds, all the boy could see was darkness. Pure, sweet darkness...

The final scene plays out showing the young boy in a colorful dress with a black wig on a stage as dozens of cameras flashed at him, taking pictures of him as he continued to pose. After his ordeal with rehab, he came out stronger than ever and began to use his feminine appearance to his advantage, becoming a cosplayer/model. His start may not have started out he'd have liked it, but he wasn't complaining about how his life was now.

...But though he managed to win the battle against his addiction, has the boy truly managed to quell his demons? During his time of struggle, he was forced to burn several bridges, the likes of which can never be rebuilt or used again. They say the only way to turn a white rose red is to dye it the color of blood. White represents 'purity' and 'innocence'. But do those abstracts define this model-like star? Will he be able to continue being a flower meant to represent 'love'? Or will he eventually wilt and be crushed under the weight of the sins he had previously committed?

Lovesick

With all cards of her tarot deck placed in front of her, the blind seeress sighs and lets the spirits take hold of her as her hand slowly glides over each and every one. It stops suddenly at certain cards for several seconds before continuing to search for the ones that she feels are correct. After scanning all 78 of them, she wordlessly and effortlessly flips over three of them, not even checking to see if they were correct; she knows they are.

The first card revealed features eight wands flying through the air (The Eight of Wands). This card represents fire. And as we all know, fire is passion, as well as desire. It speaks that the person seeks to acquire love through the senses, one of which is music.

The second card, like the first, features eight objects; this time, they are cups (The Eight of Cups). This card represents water: gentle, flowing, and the element that brings forth life. It signifies the person is seeking more than just sex. They seek an emotional connection. They wish to find someone who understands them and likes them just for them.

The last card features, like the previous two, eight objects. They are pentacles (stars), being crafted by a worker sitting on a bench. (The Eight of Pentacles). This card represents the earth, and represents sexual attraction, love for the body, and the desire to both touch and be touched.

These three men, all bonded by their desire to find and claim those who caught their eye. They've had to bloody and dirty their hands, their souls, and their hearts to get to where they are today, but they have no regrets. All is fair in love and war, and they seek to be the victors in this battle, no matter who they have to face... and kill.

But will their desires wind up being the death of them all? In their quest to claim their treasures, they've unknowingly placed themselves in the limelight, which means all eyes are on them. And as stated, they've all had to do things that would make them all pariahs if society were to ever find out. Can they keep hold of the skeletons trapped in their closet? Or will their enemies find out their secrets themselves? Only time will tell...

[dannythedog]

I saw your post about what to say to a celebrity when you meet them. It really just depends on where you are tbh. I’ll break this down into two major parts after a show and just out and about. I’ll further break it down to who I met. Just a heads up, his is going to be very long.

Part 1 a: When I met Danny, it was outside of the venue, and there were other people around, additionally it was his choice to come out and say hi to us. We all were kind of like “hi Danny” we didn’t want to take up too much of his time so we did a group photo, he signed some stuff, took some individual photos and then went back inside.

Part 1 b: I met Palaye Royale in 2018 at warped tour. I got tickets to their TEI QNA class, I asked what positions they played in Hockey. Then they made fun of the way midwesterners say hockey. But then answered my question. After the TEI class, we took a “class” photo and got ready to walk back to the area where we could walk around the Summerfest grounds. Sebastian (palayes guitarist) walked back with us, I asked for a hug and just said “you’re tall”. In my defense that was like my first real interaction with a celebrity. Sebastian then retorted with “you’re just short” and then we both laughed. I was 4’11 at the time, so I was really short compared to him, He’s like 6’1.

Part 1 c: When I met Hannah Wicklund, it was after her show and she was standing by her merch booth signing things and taking pictures. I waited in line to meet her, and when it was my turn, she asked if I enjoyed the show and we chatted a little bit about keeping up with curly hair. I also gave her the sharpie I keep in my purse when she first came out to sign stuff, she gave me it back when I went up to talk to her and said thank you again.

Part 1 d: I met Carson Mac after Mac Saturn opened for Dirty Honey in Oshkosh with my little sister. He asked if we enjoyed the show, where we were from, and then told us that they’re definitely coming back to Wisconsin. I answered all of his questions since my sister was too stunned to speak, and said that we would definitely try to go to their headlining show in Milwaukee.

Part 1 e: I went to Mac Saturns headlining show in Milwaukee a couple months after I saw them Oshkosh. My sister was busy that night, and I was just going to go alone but my friend decided to come along. We went to the merch booth, and I got my CD signed by Carson, Nick and Jive. I said that I loved the show and gave Carson a necklace, he gave me a hug. Then I told him that my cousin, who had seen Mac Saturn in California, was the one he traded necklaces with for the cherry necklace he now has. He said that my cousin was the sweetest person ever. And I overheard someone say “Small world”, it was either Nick, Jive, or someone else who was waiting to meet them. My friend then asked if they wanted to do a shot with us, Jive did a shot of New Amsterdam Vodka and Carson did a shot of Malibu while we did fireball. After that, we went to talk to Angelo. We then started talking about drumming, my dads a drummer and I kind of know how to play but I prefer the keys. Then we talked to Mike, I offered to take a picture for the girl who was talking to him before I got over there he said thank you to me for that. Then we started talking about the weather and how fucking cold it was outside. . After talking to Mike, we went to talk to Evan, we somehow started talking about smoking for some reason. I said something about how drug cigs and post gig cigs are the best, and Evan agreed. After that we left, because I had been in class all day and my blood sugar was dropping since I hadn’t eaten much that day. (This was the most recent one so I remember it a bit more clearly).

Part 2 a: I don’t know if you’ve seen Cheer on Netflix, but I also got to meet Gabby Butler, who on the Navarro team and she has been a huge influencer in the cheerleading world for years. I was walking around the ESPN world at Disney with my mom and ran into Gabby. My sister had gotten a picture with her earlier in the day, and I didn’t want to bombard her with more photo requests. So I just was like “you were a huge inspiration to me when I was in cheer” and we chatted for a little bit before my mom was saying it was time to meet up with my sisters team.

Part 2 b: they’re not really famous outside of my area, but I had been listening to this local band for a couple months. I had learned of them through a friend who had seen them at a bar downtown, and I didn’t know that one of my coworkers was dating the lead singer. So I saw my coworkers when I was out for lunch, and I went to go talk to her. She had been off work for a couple weeks, so I asked how she was doing. Then she introduced me to her boyfriend, who then I realized was the lead singer of the band I had been listening to. I made a polite hello, and then I left the both of them to get my food.

I think it’s harder to talk to a celebrity when there’re out and about. But that may just be me because I don’t like to be bothered even when I’m walking the neighborhood.

Bestie how does it feel to be god's favorite