#also while i have a guitar in the shop that still needs paid for | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fieldofdaisiies · 2 years ago

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modern!Azriel x Reader | Ashamed?

type: angst-y warning(s): Azriel being an insecure and sad boy, talk about money, I guess word count: 2.9k words request: Hiii ik it's been a while but can you write a fic which is az x reader and the reader is kinda well off with cash but like az needs some help with it but he's shy to tell the reader he needs cash cuz it might make him look less in front of her? modernAU where Azriel and Reader are roommates, and since Azriel no longer works for the major and rather wants to focus on his musical career he doesn’t have that much money which becomes quite obvious when he cannot pay the rent

“Azriel?” Your voice hollows through the flat and although the letter you are holding in your hand is everything but positive you still try to not sound too gloomy.

At this point you simply think that Azriel has forgotten to pay the rent, wouldn’t be the first time that you have to remind your roommates, Cassian and Azriel, that their rent was due. Cass has given you the money a week ago before he left for holiday with his girlfriend Nesta. But Azriel’s part is somehow still missing. He has been been working a lot on his music lately so you think it probably has just slipped his mind.

You open the door to the fridge while you wait for an answer from Azriel. Your lips pout when your eyes scan the empty interior of the fridge, nothing but one carrot left. You quickly glance to side, looking at the small note board to figure out whose job it has been to go shopping this week.

Azriel. Great, what has been going on with him lately?

“Azriel!” you shout once again, frustration taking root in your chest. Still no answer. You quickly slip your phone out of your back pocket to check the time–five past ten. So he has to be up.

Sliding your phone back into the pocket and holding the letter tightly in your other hand, you hurdle to his room, knocking loudly.

You are not mad, not really at least, but a tiny bit angry. You all have the same duties in this shared flat and it is really frustrating when some does not fulfill theirs because it means another person has to make up for that.

“Yes?” Azriel’s voice sounds sleepy, slightly hoarse and grumbly.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes.” So you enter and find Azriel sitting in his bed, one knee bent, his laptop in front of him. His gaze is trained on the screen, his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed.

“What are you up to?” you ask, slightly surprised that he is already sitting in front of his laptop. Normally Azriel would always do some songwriting or guitar playing in the morning.

“Nothing…” he says and does not even deign you a glance.

What Azriel is really up to should be a secret as he is currently looking for a weekend job as he is in a desperate need of money. He does not want you to know, he does not want you to think he is a loser who has failed at making money with music. He can’t even afford gas for his motorcycle; it has been standing in front of the building since weeks, unused. Also he would love to go on holiday as well, take you on holiday maybe? But that is a sheer impossibility at the time being.

“Why are you here?” “Oh good morning, my dearest roommate, it is such a delight seeing you on this wonderful morning,” you sarcastically express and toss the letter to him. Finally the male looks up at you and you internally cringe. Dark circles surround his eyes that are slightly bloodshot. Has he been up all night? His hair is ruffled, his shoulders hunched and you quickly glance back up at his face.

“Sorry, I am a bit stressed. Good morning, Y/N,” Azriel says in a calm voice, offering you a small smile. “What is this?”

“Rent for this month. Cass and I have both paid but your part is still missing,” you say, trying not to sound accusatory. Azriel’s shoulders hunch even more and he seems like folding into himself.

One hand coming up, he first rubs it over his chin, then the back of his neck. “I must have forgotten.”

“Yeah…” you say and step from one foot to the other.

“I will give it to you sometime soon.” You really don’t want to be annoying, especially since you may have this tiny, little crush on your roommate, but you need the money to give it to your landlord.

“What about now?” Your voice is barely above a whisper when you lean back onto the doorframe, watching Azriel’s throat work on a swallow.

“Now is not so good. I don’t have any money,” Azriel says and quickly adds, “here. Here at the moment, I mean. I will go to the bank tomorrow. I promise.” He seems so sad, so vulnerable in that moment that your heart squeezes a little bit. You don’t really buy his lie, but you give your head a tight nod and press your lips in a thin line. “Alright.”

With that you leave his room, an odd feeling settling in your gut.

~~~~~~

“So, what did he say?" you excitedly querie your friend Gwyn who is sitting opposite of you on the couch, questioning her about her date she had the previous evening. Gwyn grins and takes your hand into hers. “He said that he would like to meet me again, preferably this weekend.”

You both squeal at that, grinning and cheering which is suddenly interrupted by the slam of a door. Azriel you gather as Cass is still on holiday.

You turn your head the moment your wet —he is drenched in rain water— roommate enters the living room. His gaze is trained on the floor when he toes off his boots and brushes his hand through his hair, exhaling a loud breath, apperently not having realised that both you and Gwyn are sitting on the couch. It is now two days after you have questioned Azriel about the rent and he still hasn’t made any move to give you the money. You have decided to give him a bit more time —until Monday— as then the time of grace would be over.

Gwyn next to you stiffens and you feel her gaze on you. She knows about your little crush on him and desperately wants to get the two of you together.

“Az?” you carefully question and it startles your roommate. He winces and tips his head up, his gaze shooting to yours. “Y/N…” he breathes and his voice is so weak, so unsteady.

You stare at him for a long moment, unable to find appropriate words to help him in this disheveled state. You feel Gwyn nudge your knee and start to scramble for something you could say.

“Are you alright, Azriel?” your best friend then asks, helping you out. You are incredibly thankful for that and tap her knee with yours.

“Oh, hey, Gwyn. I am. Just in need of a shower.” Azriel is quick to depart, giving the both of you a quick wave of his hand before disappearing into the corridor.

“He has always been calm, but I have never seen him like that,” Gwyn says to you when Azriel is out of eyesight. Pressing your lips in a thin line, you bow your head. Your fingers peel on the skin around your nails when you start chewing on your lower lip. “I think he is having trouble with money…”

Gwyn looks surprised when you lift your gaze to hers. You cocks her head and gives you a questioning look, waiting for you to elaborate.

“He hasn’t paid the rent yet and when I asked him he said he has no money and then quickly corrected himself, saying he does not have it here. I just think he is struggling with it lately and I would really like to help him, but I don’t know how if he doesn’t reach out,” you say, your voice calm so that Azriel does not accidentally hear you.

“But doesn’t he work for the major, Rhysand? Doesn’t he pay him well?” You chuckle lightly at that and give your head a tiny shake. “No, he quit there quite some time ago to focus on his music.”

Azriel has not really announced it that big back then, only when you asked him why he was not going to leave the house in the morning he told you.

“Oh, that makes sense. It is so hard to earn money in this business. 30 bucks is all I got for the show last night.”

“I am sorry to hear that. You deserve 30 million for how good you are.” A blush fills Gwyn’s cheeks and rolls her eyes. “Stop being so cute.”

You smile at your best friend, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, your whole focus on Azriel and how you can help him. Gwyn must have noticed since she tells you that she has to leave and that you should go talk to him. You say is currently showering as you can hear the water running and she laughs wickedly and tells you to join him.

You swat at her shoulder. “It was a joke, Y/N.” She still cackles when she shoves your towards the corridor and then gives you a quick hug as goodbye. You hug her back and tell her thank you, before she slips through the door, leaving.

Bracing your in wool socks covered feet on the ground, you ball your hand into fists and draw in a deep breath. You listen to the water being turned off, not really sure if you should wait here or in front of his room or if you should wait in your own room. You somehow wish Cass was here, it would make things easier.

And what would you even say now? How would you address the problem without making him feel bad? Or embarrassed? It is the last thing you want. You want him to feel comfortable and not like he should feel less just because he cannot pay the rent. He should—

The door to the bathroom opens and reveals…Azriel…just with a towel around his waist. His gaze immediately lands on you because you still stand in the middle of the corridor, fingers still curled towards your palms. His eyes lock with yours and for a moment neither of your speaks. You force your eyes to stay on his and not follow this one, single droplet, slowly sliding down your roommate’s toned chest, to the strong muscles on his lower abdomen, to the edge of the towel—

You snap your gaze back to his, feeling heat creep into your skin, filling you with colour from your cleavage up to the top of your head.

“We need to talk!” you quickly say and cringe at how hard it sounded. Great, that is exactly what you have wanted—not.

Azriel furrows his brows but slowly dips his chin and extends his hand, showing you to his room. You follow silently and he holds the door open for you. Once inside you can practically cut the tension with a knife. You somehow want a hole to appear in the floor, to suck you in and never spit you out again, because this is uncomfortable. And it will get a lot more uncomfortable.

Before you can say anything Azriel shuffles over to the desk, picks up an envelope and hands it to you. He does not say anything, but the shadows in his eyes and the how hard he clenches his jaw speak volumes. “My part of rent,” he says, his voice empty of all kind of softness, leaving a rough statement behind.

“Thank you,” you says and add, “this is partly what I want to talk with you about.” You cannot stand this odd tension and situation anymore and then do the one thing that makes it maybe even more odd.

You go over to his bed and plop down, folding one leg under yourself.

Azriel leans against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest, not seeming uncomfortable with you sitting on his bed but rather with the whole situation. Azriel has an inkling of what you want to talk about and he desperately wants to avoid this question. “Is money a problem for you? You can tell me—“ “No, it is not. I have a job now. Can you leave please?” You have expected a lot but not that answer. Not so sharp. And not so quick. You wince slightly, eyes going wide. Azriel is so cold and it hurts you. He has never been cold. He has always been calm and reserved, but always kind and warm. Nothing is left of this and you worry that you might be the reason for it. Maybe you have intruded his personal space, imposed yourself and this was now your price to pay—his indifference and cold.

“Azriel, I am sorry, I just—“ “Just go, please.” It pains Azriel to talk to you like that, has he come to like you so much over the time he has been living with you. Gods, he has been falling for you since quite a while and this is exactly why he doesn’t want to talk with you about this. He doesn’t want you to think he is a loser, a failure, someone who does not have control over his life.

His heart cracks when he sees the disappointed look on your face, knowing he has hurt you.

“Alright,” you say and slowly get up from the bed. “If you want to talk or if you need anything,” —you push down the handle, opening the door— “you know where to find me.” You step out onto the corridor, Azriel still leaning against his desk. His gaze moves to the ground, he grinds his teeth so hard that his jaw aches. Closing his eyes, the moment the door falls shut, Azriel exhales loudly and wipes his hand over his head. “Fuck!” he expresses through gritted teeth.

It is around twenty minutes later when a soft knock sounds from your door and lift your gaze. Moving your bookmark into your book, you place it on the bed beside you and open your mouth. “Come in.”

Azriel is now dressed in grey sweatpants, still no shirt, but at least no longer just a towel. He looks like a picture of misery when he slowly waddles in and sucks his lower lip between his teeth.

“I wanted to apologise for earlier. It wasn’t fair and I didn’t want to come around as so rude. I didn’t mean to upset you.” You sit up in bed. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Azriel. And it is fine, you don't have to apologise.”

He closes the distance between the door and your bed and lets himself fall onto it, his eyes searching yours. “It is not fine. You are right. You have been right…I…”

Azriel momentarily looks at the ceiling, searching for the right words. Shame fills every fiber of his body when his heart drops into his belly. “I have a problem with money. I just…I don’t have a lot of money. None somehow. I started this job, a delivery job that is why I got home drenched in rain the other day.”

“Oh, Azriel…” you breathe and slide your hand over his, squeezing softly. “You could have told me. I could have just paid your part of the rent for this month.” “No, you could have not. I don’t want you to pay my things just because I am not able to. This is embarrassing.” “Not at all,” you argue and lean closer to him. “This is not embarrassing. Everyone can have issues with money. You just quit your job and—“ “Should be earning money with my music if I would not fail so greatly.” That is enough for you. Making a tiny leap forward, you cradle his face in your palms and stare deeply into his eyes. “Azriel, you listen to me now,” you say sternly, “your music is amazing, but you are only in this business for a few weeks. What did you expect? To earn millions after this short amount of time? It is fine. I told you already. And I am sure you will soon earn a lot with your music, but remember: good things take time.”

Smiling slightly, Azriel leans forward and places his forehead against yours. “I don’t deserve a roommate like you.”

“You do,” you whisper, giving his head another tiny squeeze.

“The next time you ever need help or just need someone to talk, please, don't wait for that long again…”

“I won’t,” Azriel hums and it is the sincerity in his voice that tells you he really won’t. His arm moves around you and Azriel pulls you to his chest, hugging you before kissing the top of your head.

“Want to show me the song you have written the other day? And then we could watch a movie?” you ask against his shoulder.

When you pull back Azriel’s lips are curled upwards and his eyes are filled with so much hope, so much life agsin. “You really want to hear?”

“Of course!” It is the excitement in your voice that makes Azriel's heart race. Relieved and delighted he jumps out, dashes to his room and returns a moment later with his guitar and a piece of paper. You scoot over on the bed to make room for him and climb under the blanket when Azriel places the sheet of paper on the bed in front of you. He sits cross-legged on the bed, his guitar placed on his thighs. Both leaning agains the headboard and your head resting on Azriel's shoulder listening to his lovely voice and him softly his guitar, admiration and awe radiating from every fiber of your body and hopefully reaching him.

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

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @cityofidek @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22 @valeriedarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate 123

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #acosf #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger

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stars-of-kyber · 1 year ago

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Rereading Faithfully as I do most of your work. Was wondering if Kate gets royalties for the shirts she designed that got requested when AH first started going viral?

I know she isn’t in the business because of her anxiety but she designed the first album cover I think (will get to that chapter is of the tattoos in a bit) but does she still design some of their merch for fun and Anthony shows it and it becomes mass produced? Not like anyone really checks for who comes up with the designs so she is protected…

Okay this got longer than I anticipated. I just love you work ❤️

She designed their logo, their first t-shirts (and perhaps a couple of ones after that) and at least two or three of their album covers. People who stop by the shop see her tattoo for Anthony, which was turned into their following album cover after some adaptations, and her band matching tattoos and they're like "Oh I didn't know you were an Aubrey Hall fan" and Kate's just nodding her head like "Yeah, been following their work for a while." and Edwina is on the background trying really hard not to break down laughing.

One day, a girl looks at her tattoo and scoffs "You know this is wrong, right?"

And Kate just lifts her head in confusion like "Sorry, what?"

The scoffing girl points at her tattoo with a superior gaze. "That's not Aubrey Hall's logo."

"Oh, yeah, I know."

"It's just, I'm a huge fan and I hate when people claim they love Aubrey Hall but they barely know it at all."

Kate's just nodding her head along as she scans the girl's books, her lips pressed into a line, thanking the heavens Edwina was not at the shop. "I love them as well, but I actually got this before the album came out."

"Oh, right..."

I'd say the boys tried paying her several times for the designs and she shook her head saying she'd done it for them and there was no need to pay her for it. Usually, it prompted them (or even Agatha at times) to go behind her back and give the check to Mary because Kate earned the money whether she wanted it or not.

She also made many different sets of hand-painted instruments for their concerts after that first guitar she painted for Anthony at Christmas. She'll just come up with a design like "I think this would match the vibe you're going for your new album" and they provide the instruments and just let her do her thing. She 100% refuses to get paid for those in anything but art supplies. Anthony just hands her his credit card, drops her off at the door of the crafts shop, kisses her head and goes "I'll pick you up in three hours, have a blast." and when he's back Kate's standing a bit guiltily at the door to the shop, surrounded by more supplies than she could actually use. There's an arts room in their townhouse and another in their Dream House in Kent both of them filled to the brim with her crafts supplies.

#my writing #asks #kathony #Faithfully #Faithfully AU #Rockstar Anthony #Modern AU

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glitchtricks94 · 1 year ago

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I just wanna have modern!gyutaro fall asleep on top of me... pet his hair. He needs a break.

He. Would LOVE THAT! He loves to be pet and just held. After a long day of working the shops and knocking skulls out for some paid work, he would just want to put all the chaos behind him with his two favorite people. You already squirmed your way into his heart, so on top of his stash of weed and his beloved guitar, your arms are also an option for him to just fall into, he'd be in heaven. Just resting with you on the couch, Daki just going through her usual routine in her room while you and Gyu just let some mindless show on Disney+ play, washing the room in calm as you mindlessly tread your fingers through his curly, slightly greasy mop of hair. He loves and hates how safe you make him feel, and yet, he indulges. He knows he craves it, so maybe indulge for just a bit. He loses track of himself feeling your nails soothingly scratch across his scalp, the voices of the animated characters on screen soon blurring together as he let a few minutes drift away out of his grasp. Gyutaro waking a few hours later still feeling you play with his hair. He looked up at you with wide ocean eyes, blush dusting his pale, marked up cheeks. "Sleep well, sweetheart?" UGH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!!!!!

#glitchrambles.txt #glitchrambles.anon

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kvjohansen · 2 years ago

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Guitar Progress: Wet-Sanding the Final Coat

Finding 4000 grit sandpaper is not easy. Nobody sells single sheets of sandpaper any more, so after much searching, I had to buy a mixed pack that went from, I think it was 1000, up to 4000. So I paid $15 plus hst for the single sheet of sandpaper I needed. This is a bit pricey. (I will have to become ruinously addicted to making guitars to justify this, right?)

Anyway, I sanded with 4000 and put a final coat of Tru-oil on the back of the guitar body. Then, discovering a dog-hair, removing the dog-hair, I left a fingerprint in the tacky oil, so I recoated just a portion of it -- and so it goes. I left that upstairs for twenty-four hours or so to harden in a warmer room once it was dry. And then, well, it's still not the glassy-to-the-touch surface I was aiming for, so time for wet-sanding.

Where are the mineral spirits? Why are there no mineral spirits in the cellar paint cupboard?

Can I use kerosene for wet sanding? If I can, should I? The answer is probably no.

Do I want to have to go off and go shopping? I hate shopping. Also, the cupboard is full of excitingly volatile things, some of which must be useful. What the heck is Taltine?

Our house came with a lot of the previous owner's stuff (late parents of a friend), and one did beautiful china painting. Taltine is a turpentine-alternative for fine oil painting. So, can I do wet sanding with turps? Sounds good.

Spouse, dubious, quotes various things about harmful vapours and necessary ventilation, and I do admit that there's no ventilation in the cellar to speak of, particularly as we can't even leave the door open because the dog will immediately come blundering in and fall down the stairs. (Yes, this happened. He's very old and unsteady and now we always make sure the door is tightly latched.) (He was okay, though alarmed and upset.)

However, the sunroom is easy to shut off from the rest of the house, with the added benefit of being sunny and therefore rather better lit than the cellar, and though it is very narrow and full of plants (including an olive tree currently in bloom), it has a door that can be closed, a window that can be opened, and an ottoman which can be covered with newspaper and used as a guitar-finishing workbench. Hooray!

So, a little Taltine on a yoghurt-lid, the 4000 grit sandpaper and a sanding block, and a light pass over the back of the body, the back of the head, and a rub around the sides and the curved edge and it is now beautifully smooth to the touch, while still having a bit of the organic look this guitar, which has a forest sort of theme to its colours, seems to be suited by. (I.e. you can still tell it's wood.) Still nicely glossy, too. It's as smooth as the perfect satin silky neck, with which I am very please, though uncertain exactly how I achieved that.

I'm going to put a few more coats of Tru-oil on the front of the body, as that will get the most battering in life.

And now I should really go close the sunroom window; it must be aired out by now. I don't want to freeze my olive-blossoms.

#guitar #guitar kit #woodworking #wood finishing #DIY guitar #growing olives indoors #wet sanding

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meatybeefy · 11 months ago

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BEHIND THE DRESS

The Untold Story of #TheDress

Hi, my name is Paul Jinks and you will not have heard of me. Myself and my ex-partner, Cecilia Bleasdale, created the #TheDress image and optical illusion.

First of all I have to point out that #TheDress is not actually a dress. What went viral was an image of a dress, an image that contains an optical illusion, which became known as #TheDress. Nobody else was involved in the creation of the image/illusion, only Cecilia Bleasdale and myself, Paul Jinks.

A little about myself

I am married to Wendy.

The Father of Phoebe.

The Brother of Sarah.

The Stepfather of Charlotte and Jon, Lucy and Daniel.

The Assistant Zoo Keeper of Luna Dog, Chester Rabbit, Enzo Terrapin, Drogon Dragon and some Hamsters.

I am a Hospital Porter, working in the NHS. In my spare time I cycle for fun and for charity, raising a few thousand pounds for local charities. I also make noise with my guitar and drums. Not very well but I love it.

How was #thedress created

Imagine the scene, you have two people in the middle of a store. One is holding a phone and the other is holding a dress, about shoulder height. When Cecilia pressed the button on her phone, to take the picture, something magical happened. Why it happened I do not know, maybe it was the way Cecilia was holding her phone, maybe a fault with her phone, maybe it was the angle I was holding the dress, maybe it was the way the lights were reflecting off my yellow t-shirt or maybe it was a combination of all these things. Somehow we created an image and an optical illusion within that image.

This is my story about the events around #TheDress.

2015 didn’t start well for me, I was diagnosed with an incurable bowel disorder, my Stepfather died and I then lost my job and it was only the end of January.

7th February 2015 a day that will live with us forever. Our Daughter Phoebe Jinks was having her 16th birthday party on the 12th February and as she is a huge Batman fan, especially Harley Quinn, so wanted a Harley Quinn themed party. So Cecilia and I went on a road trip to Manchester in the UK to a large comic book store called Forbidden Planet, where we managed to buy everything we needed for Phoebe’s party. It was now lunchtime, “what shall we do now” I asked, “I still need to get a dress for Grace’s wedding” Cecilia replied. So dress shopping we went. Cecilia couldn’t find anything she liked in Manchester, so we went to a retail park called Cheshire Oaks. We visited numerous clothes shops. Cecilia still couldn’t find anything she liked, until we reached Roman Originals. An assistant asked us if we needed any help, “yes we are looking for a blue dress for Cecilia to wear at her Daughters wedding”. We ended up with three dresses. “oh I don’t know, can I photograph them and send the pictures to my daughter for her opinion” Cecilia asked the shop assistant, “yes that’s fine”. I stood there and held these three dresses while Cecilia took photographs of them and sent them to her Daughter, Grace. “what do you think”, “the third one but I thought you said it was blue” asked Grace. “It’s blue and black” replied Cecilia, “the photo you sent is white and gold” said Grace, “well it’s blue and black on mine” replied Cecilia. I went to the checkout and paid for the dress and jacket and we left the store and started to head home. Cecilia turned to me and asked (what was to become the question of the year) “what colour is this dress” “oh it looks white and gold in the photo” I replied, even though I had been there holding a definitely blue and black dress and jacket. “Paul said it looked white and gold, how odd” said Cecilia. “how can you possibly think that’s blue and black, you need to go to the Docs” replied Grace. When we got home we asked Phoebe “what colour is this dress?” “black and blue” Phoebe replied. It appeared to be 2 – 2 on the day. Well that seemed to be that for us, just one of those things.

14th February, Phoebe had her Harley Quinn themed birthday and it was enjoyed by all with a magnificent cake.

18th February, road trip and ferry ride to the island of Colonsay. Which is located off the West Coast of Scotland, for the wedding of Grace and Keir Johnston.

21st February, the big day. A great day was had by all. There were smiles, there were tears, there was booze. Into the evening it went, there were speeches, there was food, there was booze, there was dancing and there was booze. The next day was recovery day. Monday we were supposed to leave the island but the ferry was cancelled due to bad weather and we couldn’t leave until Wednesday, arriving home late Wednesday night.

26th February, was uneventful, an ordinary day.

27th February, we were awoken by the phone ringing. It was Cecilia’s other two children, Angela and John Macphee. “Mum, your dress is all over Twitter” What?? So we looked on Twitter, hang on isn’t that our photo? How did it get on Twitter? Cecilia went to work, Phoebe and I watched Twitter and Facebook on the laptop, you couldn’t keep up with it. Cecilia sent a message, it was Grace who had posted it on Facebook and then the singer in the wedding band, a girl called Caitlin McNeil, who had posted it on Tumblr on the 26th February and it had gone viral from there (or had it). Later that morning a photo taken by one of the bridesmaids, Lindsay Maden, appeared and Cecilia Bleasdale gets mentioned by name, as it turns out for the first time and shortly after I get a message, don’t talk to any Press (coincidence?) The Ellen Show want to do an exclusive and shortly after that the Press turn up outside our house, where they stay for the rest of the day, now I know how Madonna feels. The picture appears on the lunchtime news and then on live daytime shows and also on the evening news, wow we said. In the evening Cecilia gets home from work and has to sprint from the car to the house to avoid the Press. The evening was spent watching the news and taking phone calls from the producers of The Ellen Show, “do you want to be flown to Hollywood in return for an exclusive” they asked Cecilia. “we will make it worth your while” they said (we should have asked what they meant by that but we didn’t.) “is Paul coming as well” Cecilia asks, “no” was the reply, “no I’m not going on my own” Cecilia tells them. “we will get back to you”. Later there is a phone call “yes Paul can come”. It was now midnight. “you have to be at Manchester Airport by 3AM” they tell us. Mad rush ensues to get Phoebe and the dog, Kopek, to a friends house, get our gear together and get to Manchester Airport which is an hour away. We made it yay, eventually we boarded the plane, which promptly broke down and spent an hour on the Apron being repaired, we took off and half an hour later landed at Heathrow Airport in London, we were bussed to our next flight and left London and England behind.

A short eleven and a half hours later we arrived at LAX Airport in Los Angeles, a couple of hours later we emerged through security and found a limo driver holding a sign with our names on, we looked at each other and laughed, this was surreal. “is the dress alright, we’re you followed” the producers wanted to know. We left LAX into the glorious sunshine of Los Angeles, a bit different from cloudy and rainy England and arrived at the Universal Sheraton Hotel. We checked in and went to our room. We had been awake for over forty hours by this time, guess what we had a sleep.

1st March, it was a lovely Sunday morning and Universal Studios was across the road, we looked at each other “we’ve got to haven’t we” so we did. We had the day to ourselves so we decided to spend it at Universal Studios. What a fascinating place, getting to see where all those iconic film and TV shows where made, but surprised at how small it was. The rides were fantastic, never been on a 3D ride before but what a sensory rush they were. The Minions, The Simpsons, The Transformers and especially The King Kong ride, just wow. It was now late afternoon and the heavens decided to open and boy did they open, it was a monsoon. We ran into the local KFC and decided to have something to eat, it was different to the UK KFC, we don’t have Mash and Gravy in a tub. A sprint across a car park and we were back at the hotel. It was dark and we were wet so it was get stuff ready for the morning, a bit of telly and a sleep.

2nd March, the day of the show. We were picked up at the hotel all five of us, Grace and Keir, Caitlin and Cecilia and I by a limo and driven to Warner Bros. Studios. This was the first time I had met Caitlin McNeill, she seemed pleasant enough. We arrived at the studio, which looked like a small aircraft hanger and we were taken up some stairs and shown into a dressing room. A Producer arrived, “this will be the seating order, Ellen will be here, then it will be Cecilia, Grace, Keir and then Caitlin” looking at me “you will be in the audience” she said. “now these are the questions Ellen will be asking and these are the answers you will be giving.” I noticed the story wasn’t quite right and bits had been left out and the producer was a bit off with me. While we were in the dressing room Caitlin was taking phone calls about the dress and she sounded quite determined about it, it was starting to make me think. It was time for the show, Grace, Keir and Caitlin went out first and spoke about it, “here she is the Woman with the dress” Ellen announced, even though she had been told to just walk out and wave to the audience, Cecilia ran out waving like a maniac. “oh god I have to live with that” I said to the Woman sat next to me and chuckled. The interview went well and Ellen presented the four of them with black and blue/white and gold Ellen boxer shorts, she wasn’t finished. Ellen then presented Grace and Keir with $10,000 and a holiday to start them up in their new life together, wow well done The Ellen Show. After the recording we were back in the dressing room. “That was awesome “ was the verdict from the producers. We then went for a meal, paid for by the show, at a fancy restaurant. During the drive Caitlin was still taking phone calls about the dress, she gave the impression that this was mine, I’m having this, this is my precious now. During the meal Caitlin informed us that she had wanted her friends, her bandmates there with her, not us. But the show had said no, the show wanted the Woman with The Dress, alarm bells started ringing in my head. The meal went well, then Cecilia and I were taken to a different hotel, the Roosevelt Hotel on Hollywood Boulevard, which is where the stars stay during the Oscars apparently, anyway it was very posh, we had to pinch ourselves.

3rd March, we had the day to explore Los Angeles, so we did the tourist thing and did the tour of all the famous people Houses and Sunset Strip and other famous landmarks. It was sunshine, blue skies and palm trees. We went to Burger King for food and then went back to the hotel. Grace and Keir had left to return to their Honeymoon and Caitlin had apparently gone to Germany to meet up with her band to do a TV interview about The Dress. The band, not sure what they have to do with it? We went to bed as we had an early start in the morning.

4th March, we were picked up at the hotel by limo, could get used to this, to take us to the airport. We checked our case in outside in the sunshine and we left L.A. and flew to Orlando, I was seated next to a lovely Woman called Summer and we chatted about what had happened and when we arrived in Orlando, pictures were taken and goodbyes spoken and then we were on our next flight to Manchester.

5th March, we arrive back at Manchester, wait and wait for our case, it had decided to spend an extra day in Florida. So we get the car and drive home, it is now Thursday lunchtime. We have coffee and I said to Cecilia “I think we have just been used.” The trip of a lifetime was definitely over.

Due to the travelling we missed most of the media coverage of what happened, so we didn’t really know or were aware how big this actually was, so I decided to do a bit of research.

When I Googled #the dress I was stunned about how big this was and how many different fields of interest it covered, social media, media, science, PR, marketing and the thousands of articles that had been written and how quick brands were to jump on the bandwagon, I thought the South African Salvation Army domestic abuse poster was clever. What I was interested in mostly was the story of what happened.

I read the interviews that Caitlin McNeill had given, boy there was a lot and some radio interviews as well. A common thread can be seen throughout these interviews, Caitlin McNeill wanted this for herself and her friends and she did not want us, the creators of the image/illusion, to have any part in this. Caitlin was asked during her interviews on several occasions who took the photo or where did the photo come from. She would not say and said in one interview that the photographer didn’t want any publicity. Strange seeing that we knew nothing about it. The nearest she came to saying who took the photo was that it was taken by the Mother of the Bride. Also interesting was that she failed to mention Buzzfeeds role in all this and she said in interviews that she didn’t know how the image got onto Twitter, not quite true as it turned out. Why did Caitlin not want us involved, well it would have taken the media spotlight off her and onto us, she couldn’t have that, this was her precious.

I also noticed that on the night of the 26th of February, Caitlin had posted on Twitter that THIS HAS TO GO VIRAL. After Lindsay Madens picture appeared, Caitlin had taken that picture, cut off Cecilia’s head and posted it on her Tumblr blog, that shows me the state of Caitlin’s mind, this is mine not yours.

The only thing that Caitlin involved us in was The Ellen Show, now why was this? Caitlin McNeill was a 21 year old gay Girl with a chance to meet one of the biggest gay icons in the world, but she wanted to go with her friends, the show said no wanting the Woman with the dress. What was Caitlin to do, she didn’t want us involved but she would have been desperate to meet Ellen DeGeneres. She had no choice, if she was to meet Ellen she had to involve us. This is why when we got back from L.A. we felt used. If we knew then what we know now, The Ellen Show probably wouldn’t have happened or would have been different. It also makes you wonder how many things Caitlin turned down because they wanted the Woman with the dress, I’d be surprised if she wasn’t asked to do more TV than the two she did.

There are plenty of articles about how the image went viral, turns out it went viral, not from Tumblr as we had been led to believe, but from a Buzzfeed article that Buzzfeed employee Cates Holderness had posted on the Buzzfeed website, under the headline “what colour is this dress” and a poll that asked is it black and blue or white and gold. This is how it got onto Twitter.

Another thing we noticed was that in every article, be it online, newspaper or magazine, they were all crediting the photo to Caitlin McNeill or her Tumblr handle Swiked. That is except for the interviews given by Alana MacInnes.

Alana MacInnes is the friend and bandmate of Caitlin McNeill. Alana gave a lot of newspaper, and TV interviews about “her photograph.” According to Alana she took the photo, the band argued over the colour, so she posted the picture on Facebook. I don’t think think this is true Miss MacInnes.

The bandmates even set up a website “The Dress Official” where they told the story of of how it was all started by the band and they were even selling t-shirts, team blue and black and team white and gold. The website was taken down after Cecilia pointed out copyright law.

So after reading all these interviews and all the articles and reports that all used the photograph and seeing the image of the Buzzfeed staff standing around a table full of champagne celebrating their greatest day. We were starting to get a bit angry about the whole thing, all these companies and people that had used and profited from our creation and then credited the wrong person. We started contacting newspapers to try and set the record straight and about usage of the photograph, but we didn’t get any replies. We had no choice but to contact a Solicitor.

Caitlin posted on her social media sites “has anybody got the dress I can borrow?” Later that day Caitlin contacted Cecilia asking to borrow THE DRESS, “just send it in a box to Dubai, I’m flying there tomorrow “ she said. “No” was the reply. “Bloody cheek” said Cecilia. I looked up what was happening in Dubai, turned out it was a social media summit. Caitlin had been invited and took her friends with her. Alana posted a picture poolside stating that Dubai is amazing and that she recommends posting a picture of a ‘ridiculous’ dress. The summit posted a picture of Caitlin sat on a stage being interviewed under the banner ‘Caitlin McNeill the owner of the dress’. Cecilia was incensed and took to Twitter to vent her anger, this caused an argument between Cecilia and Caitlin. “I can’t read Arabic” she claimed, strange it was in English. They eventually came to an agreement that Cecilia would take down her Twitter posts and that Caitlin would direct any enquiries about the photograph to Cecilia.

The summer was spent collecting information for the Solicitor, so the Solicitor could contact companies about paying for their usage of the photograph, which they should have done in the first place but didn’t.

Scientific America made a statement about the image:

“Pride in our heightened relevance to society gave way to embarrassment as we realised that our scientific explanations for the colour wars were not only diverse but also incomplete. Especially perplexing was the fact that people saw it differently on the same device under the same viewing conditions. This curious inconsistency suggests that The Dress is a new type of perceptual phenomenon, previously unknown to scientists.”

“Wow” we said. We have created something that has never been seen before, something unique and the first of it’s kind and no-one knows who we are. We laughed.

There were numerous conferences throughout the year, especially towards the end of the year, discussing the image and it’s impact on social media, marketing and various sciences discussing colour, eyes, brains and even Autism

What did we create and still nobody knows where the image came from.

It had gone quiet for the moment, that is until the BBC got in touch about doing an end of year review for BBC Trending about life after The Dress. We were interviewed at the Radio Lancashire studios in Blackburn by the lovely Mukul Devichand, who asked us “how has life been for you after the dress?” he was surprised by our reply. “Because the Scottish girls doing all the interviews at the time left our names out of it, apart from The Ellen Show, nothing happened to us, we never gave any interviews at the time, this was our first interview and it was November’. Parts of this interview was used for an article on the BBC website, published on New Year’s day and was the No. 1 read article that day.

We also did a couple of newspaper interviews, including the Guardian. The reporters seemed surprised we hadn’t made any money out of #thedress. How could we, nobody knew who we were.

Around this time during our negotiations with Buzzfeed, Buzzfeed informed us about a message that Caitlin McNeill had sent them on the 26th February.

“Buzzfeed please help – I posted a picture of this dress (it’s my last post on my Tumblr) ok and some people see it blue and some people see it white can you explain we are GOING CRAZY”

Well that explained how Buzzfeed got hold of the image, Caitlin had basically given it too them.

During December 2015, we got invites to go down to London and appear on a TV show and a Radio end of year quiz show, we thought why not, all part of the adventure and something to tell the Grandkids. So off we went to London, we arrived at the ITV studios, which are near the London Eye, just after 7pm. We were escorted down corridors full of doors with names of daytime stars on. We were shown into a dressing room, where Cecilia got ready. We were then led to the studio. I was to sit in the Green Room whilst Cecilia did her part for the TV show, which was called ‘The Big Fat Quiz of the Year’, hosted by Jimmy Carr. I wasn’t complaining, I had free beer, the company of a group of young people, a big TV to watch the recording and free beer. After the recording, which lasted five hours and was now midnight, we left ITV studios and returned to our hotel.

The next day we had a date with the BBC in the afternoon, so to kill time we did some Christmas shopping, had a wander around Covent Garden and the West End. We had a good look at Nelson’s Column and made our way up Regents Street. We found the BBC, which is hidden behind an old church and made ourselves known. We were to be the mystery guests on the BBC Newshour Quiz of the Year, we did our bit in a small studio and then met up with the other people on the show after they had guessed who we were.

Well that was the end of the adventure for us pretty much, the image was trending again because of all the end of year reviews and articles. Then again on the 26th February with all the anniversary articles.

Cecilia came to an agreement with Buzzfeed over the usage the photograph.

Our creation has been used at multiple conferences throughout the year, covering social media, media, marketing and science. It is June and the media museum in Bradford has just had #thedress on display, not the real one I might add. Still hardly anyone knows we created it.

Roman Originals did very well out of this, “we won the social media lottery” they said. I’ve seen articles about how Roman Originals went from a small British company to a globally known company overnight. All the percentages regarding Internet traffic seem to have increased in the thousands, they expected to sell a couple of hundred of these dresses over it’s run, but instead sold thousands in a week. So yes I would say Roman Originals did very well out of this.

Have Roman Originals been in touch to say thank you, the answer is no.

Adobe’s brand name got quite the boost in all this as well, apparently they have a framed copy of the image on the wall at their office, at least they could have given us a credit.

Caitlin McNeill, what can I say. She seems to think she can take something that isn’t hers and do what she wants with it. To me it seems clear she wanted the image to go viral, with the tweet and the message to Buzzfeed and that she wanted to take all the credit for something she didn’t create.

My advice to Caitlin McNeill is, if you want to be famous for something going viral, try doing it with something you’ve created yourself and not with something someone else has created. When you had the idea of the image going viral you should have come to us and discussed it, then we wouldn’t have had to clean up the mess you left behind, all because you wouldn’t tell the media where the image came from. You kept saying “it’s just a photo of a dress and none of this would have happened without you”. You are wrong, you are just a blogger and none of this would have happened without that photograph of a dress. You still haven’t said sorry for what you did.

Buzzfeed if someone hands you a photograph, can you please ask them if it is theirs or if not that they have permission, especially if it’s one of ours, thanks.

Scientists, instead of using guesswork to try and figure out how the image/illusion was created, why not ask us, we created this and we know what caused it but we don’t know why.

I have seen videos on YouTube and Scientists trying to recreate the illusion using a dress and different coloured lights. That’s not how #thedress was created, #thedress is not a dress it is an image of a dress.

How do I feel about this now, I have gone through every emotion over this. It has been an adventure, going to Hollywood and seeing how TV and Radio works behind the scenes, the disbelief and anger over how our creation was used and profited from without anyone asking or even giving us credit. The helplessness of having no control over your own creation. The large amount of time and money it has taken to try and clear up the mess those Girls in Scotland left behind them. People saying “it’s just a bit of fun” or “it’s just a picture of a dress” for most, yes it was but for us it has caused numerous arguments and distress.

#thdress is a unique, never seen before optical illusion. I think that, we Cecilia Bleasdale and Paul Jinks should at least get the credit for creating it. Have we made any money out of this, simple answer is no, you have to remember we never put it on the Internet, it was put up without our knowledge or permission and then our names were left out.

Cecilia and I separated in 2016. It wasn’t over this.

Cecilia still owns the copyright and has the camera and the Ellen boxer shorts.

I have The Dress and the Yellow t-shirt I was wearing.

On the 10th anniversary of the hashtag, a list of the top 10 hashtags was released. We came in at No. 3.

The Legacy of the Dress

The Dress is still referenced to this day, especially when something causes a disagreement online, such as Yanni vs Laurel.

For me personally not a lot has happened in the near 10 years since #thedress. I did an interview for a Russian TV show and I also appeared on the Slate podcast Decoder Ring series about cultural phenomenon #thedress episode.

Caitlin McNeill and Alana MacInnes, I have heard nothing about them or from them.

Cates Holderness, I believe got laid off from Buzzfeed and now works for Tumblr.

Buzzfeed achieved their maximum potential with #thedress and I believe received multimillion dollar investment. Now they seemed to have all but disappeared.

Roman Originals are still going, now called Roman. But the shop where we created #thedress is no longer a Roman Originals branch.

The Dress, in my opinion, has changed social media. At the time it highlighted the change in how we consume news, going from legacy media (Newspapers, TV and Radio) to a more instant and short span news output on social media.

Why The Dress went viral was because it was divisive, it was division in it’s purest form. You were either Team Black and Blue or you were Team White and Gold and this division pushed the engagement. This model has and is now being used by people or organisations to push an agenda. You see on Twitter, now X, the same group of people, all tweeting the same posts, multiple times a day, every day and every post is designed to cause division.

The Dress itself lives in a Roman Originals bag in a box in my back room. Sort of a Raiders of the Lost Ark ending for #thedress.

Thank you for reading.

Peace and Love.

Paul Jinks

Email - [email protected]

#thedress #TheEllenShow #BBC #CatesHolderness #Science #OpticalIllusion #BlackandBlue #WhiteandGold #Slate #DecoderRing

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cottonkendi · 3 years ago

Text

Your Babies | 32

MASTERLIST

Sano Shinichiro x f!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Crack, Angst

Warning: Spoiler warnings, Profanity

Synopsis: Arguments ft. Guitars

Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33

“Be safe, make sure to be home before dinner.” You mumble against Shinichiro’s skin as he drops you off at your house before heading over to the new shop that the two of you had officially bought the other week which is also currently getting filled in with Shinichiro’s equipment from the old shop.

The move started only three days ago which has been making Shinichiro busier than ever which in turn makes you the one responsible for the financial problems for now.

Just like what the two of you had planned, the old shop is now being put on sale - without the kids knowing - while you are now working as a teacher’s assistant in university to scarpe as much money as you can before you graduate in a few months where you’ll be shadowing and assisting Sara’s mother in her engineering company.

“I will. Go have fun with Wakasa, okay? You two haven’t been spending all that much time with each other. He’s been threatening me recently, y’know? Telling me to stop swamping you with work.” He chuckles under his breath as he eyes the door behind you, leading to the living room of your house where Wakasa is most likely waiting for you.

Rolling your eyes, a smile still makes its way to your face as you take a few steps back. “Oh yeah? Did he kick you on the stomach again? Punched you to the ground like last time?”

“Oh haha, let’s all laugh at how your boyfriend got beaten up by your cousin. So funny.” Shinichiro tries to say with a straight face but inevitably breaks into laughter when Wakasa coincidentally opens the door to let you in after hearing your voice from the inside.

“What the hell are you guys doing outside? I’ve been waiting inside for five minutes, just how long do you guys say goodbye to each other?” You can practically hear the irritation from your cousin as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, shoulder leaning on the door frame as he raises his eyebrows at the two of you.

Lightly pushing Shinichiro away, you whisper under your breath. “Guess it’s time for you to go now before Mr. White Leopard beats you up.”

You catch a glimpse of Shinichiro biting his lip, suppressing his laughter as he shallowly nods at the two of you before walking over to his bike, all the while, Wakasa continues to look like he’s ready to drop kick both of you judging from the frown on his face.

Once your boyfriend is out of view, you finally enter your house, going straight into your room while Wakasa follows.

“I still can’t believe the two of you bought that new building. Such a good place though, the traffic there is great, definitely gonna have more customers once you open up again.” Wakasa points out, taking his place on your bed like how he usually does as he watches you walk around your room, getting some documents and spare money in the different bags and purses that you haven;t used in awhile. “But also, you said something about needing money right? If you want, I can lend you two some money. Benkei and I have been getting a ton of new customers for some reason. Mostly females though. They’ve all paid for the 6 month subscription in the gym with coaching. It’s absurd.”

You pause from your searching to give your cousin a look. “Really now. You don’t know why there are a ton of new female clients in the gym? You sure about that? Are you absolutely sure that you do not know why your gym, owned by two muscular and fairly attractive men, are getting a surge of new female clients who willingly paid for a 6 month subscription in the gym?” By now, your cousin has already broken out in a fit of laughter, limbs splayed all over your bed as he tries to avoid the glare you’re directing at him.

“You just wanted to shove it in my face that you and Benkei are still sought after by girls even after highschool. You’re such an attention whore, it’s unbelievable.” You scoff lightheartedly, enjoying the chuckles leaving your cousin who merely shrugs at your words, a smirk on his face.

“It’s not my fault that I’m good looking and that my looks help with business. It’s just my business strategy.”

“Shut up. I don’t need to hear this. I’ve had enough of this conversation-”

“The conversation barely started.”

“And I’m already done with it. Now shh. I’m trying to find some money in my room.”

Going back to money searching, you hear your cousin let out a huff. “You’re such a brat. Like those little sisters who ruin their older brother’s chance in getting a girl.”

Sparing him a glance, you make sure that he sees you raise your eyebrows at him. “Speak for yourself. You’re the one who’s been threatening every potential lover who comes my way. If Shinichiro wasn’t so used to getting beaten up by the time we liked each other, I doubt he’d have lasted long with you threatening him with a dango stick every other night.”

“Hah! I was just making sure that the peop- wait… you knew? Since when?” Wakasa abruptly sits up from your bed, elbows propping him up as he stares at you with wide eyes, an unusual look on his bored face.

Rolling your eyes, you make your way to him only to flick his forehead. “I’ve known a year after Shin and I started dating, dumbass. You don’t think Manjiro actually kept your threats a secret, do you? He can barely contain his excitement when he told me about how cool you were beating up Shin that first time you threatened him.” You lightly punch his chest to make a point.

Slowly, he gets comfortable on the bed again. “If you’ve known for so long and haven’t actually confronted me about it, I guess that I’m off the hook right? You’ve already forgiven me which means that we can all forget about it ever happening.”

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips as you take a seat by your bed, beside your cousin, hands clutching the last of the money you’ve left in this room after completely abandoning it for a few months in a row just because you’ve taken up a permanent residency in the Sano household. “I only found 57,000 yen. This is not even enough to get through for a month.”

Turning towards you, Wakasa eyes the bills in your hand. “I told you, I can lend you money. I wasn’t just bragging earlier.”

You shake your head at him. “No, It will be too difficult if I borrow money from you. Shin and I already talked about it, we won’t be borrowing money for the shop since it will be too difficult in case things don’t go as plan.”

“But how are you guys going to find money for it then?”

“I’m taking up a part time job then I’ve already got a contractual job after I graduate in Sara’s family, you remember her, right?” Wakasa nods at you, now sat up and thinking hard on what to do to help. “Shin and I are also thinking of using the money that we;ve both been saving up for the future. ‘Cause remember how we both jokingly saved up money a few years ago for the wedding that we were planning? It got big through the years so I think that that will be good too. But other than that, just in case, I’m thinking of selling my guitar.”

Wakasa’s head snaps towards you, eyes blown out the moment you finish your sentence. “Your guitar?! You’re really going to sell that?”

Nodding your head, you let out a sigh as you take out your phone to show him some messages. “Yeah, I’ve been contacting some interested buyers, both here in Japan and some foreign ones. Since the guitar is in good condition and all of the parts were customized, it racked up quite a price. And besides, I haven;t really been using it all that much, just getting dusty in our room. It’s more like a display now anyways than an actual guitar so why not just sell it off to help with the payments.” You nonchalantly shrug.

“But you’ve spent years just saving up money for that. You worked so much before and you’re just going to sell it?”

“Wakasa, that’s in the past. I worked hard for it back then and now, it’s going to be sold off for a bigger and much needed money.”

After a second of silence, Wakasa lets out a sigh after making sure that you’re absolutely sure about what you’re about to do. “Are you sure that you won’t regret this?”

“I’m sure… and if I do, then I can just save up money in the future and buy another better guitar, right? Or maybe buy it back?”

“Who are you going to sell it to?”

“Remember Hikaru? Well, he has an uncle who collects guitars and he has the highest offered price for it so I’m thinking of meeting up with him this afternoon…”

“Is that why you asked me to hang out with you today? You gonna make me come with you?”

“... Maybe…”

Taking off your shoes, you greet grandpa who’s just about done with cooking the rice, Manjiro and Emma both running around the kitchen, putting the utensils on the dinner table. “You’re home late. Busy with school? You only have less than two months before you graduate, right?” Grandpa asks as he takes the takeout from you. “Shinichiro is still out but he called and said that he’ll be home soon.”

Nodding, greet the two kids. “Hm, I was just checking something out with Wakasa.”

“Hm, go clean up while I handle dinner. You two should clean up too, you’ve been running around all day.” Manjiro salutes before running over to the bathroom, Emma right behind him as he screams about showering first. All the while, you silently walk over to your bedroom, eyeing the empty wall where your guitar used to be displayed a few hours ago.

Taking your other guitar that you usually practice on, you gingerly hang it where your now sold guitar used to be, hoping that it will help with making the wall look less empty. “It doesn’t quite look right but it’ll do.” Letting out a sigh, you make your way to the bathroom, cleaning yourself up before dinner, unaware of the bedroom door opening.

Getting out of the bathroom, you’re startled when you see Shinichiro’s body on the bed, unmoving.

Putting on your clothes, you wait for him to start talking when you notice him glancing at you. “Today was so tiring.” He lets out a long sigh, lanky body stretching out on the soft mattress. “We moved the things for the break room and storage room then tomorrow, we’ll start moving things for the actual shop. They also delivered the new countertop, shelves and some new machines. I’m so excited but it’s so tiring.” Walking over to his side, you press a kiss on his forehead, your arms caging him down which puts a smirk on his lips.

“Is this your way of telling me that you’ll take care of me?” He murmurs, hands making their way to your hips. “If so, then please take care of me real good-”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Shin.” Flicking his forehead, you push yourself off of the bed after giving him a kiss on the nose. “Get ready for dinner, the kids must be hungry. C’mon.”

You hear him groan from the bed as you walk out of the bedroom before he follows after, body slouched as he drags his feet to the dining room.

All throughout dinner, you’re forced into answering the kids’ questions about why the old shop is getting cleaner and cleaner with the usual machines disappearing from sight while you make sure that Shinichiro doesn’t just accidentally let the secret out. Thankfully, after cleaning up, both the kids and grandpa headed to their bedroom while you helped Shinichiro back into yours. “Can’t you at least move your feet so we can go to our room faster?”

“I can’t~ I’m too tired.”

“I swear, Shin. I’m going to leave you in this hallway and lock you out of our room.”

Pushing him onto the bed, you heave out a sigh as you stretch out your arms, a little numb from dragging him across the house. “You should clean up before going to sleep, Shin-”

“Wait… where’s your guitar? Did the kids take it again?” Shinichiro sits up from the bed, eyes trained at the wall where your guitar is hung. “Or are you adding another set of customized thingies again?”

Shaking your head, you carelessly wave your hand. “It’s nothing. I just sold it-”

“What?! You sold it? Why?” By now, it seems as if the fatigue in Shinichiro’s body has gone away the moment you told him just what happened to your guitar. His dark eyes so wide as he stares at you with shock. “Why?! Was something wrong with it? Did the kids break it or something?! Do you want me to tell them off-”

“What the-? No, the kids didn’t break it or anything, okay? Would you please calm down? You’re reacting as if I sold your bike.” You chuckle as you make him sit down again, hands going to his shoulders to lightly massage the tension out of it. “I sold it because we needed money, right? I knew someone who collects those customized acoustic guitars and he gave me a million yen for it.” The small smile on your face gets wiped off when you notice the furrow in Shinichiro’s brows, lips turned into a frown as he looks up at you.

“You sold your guitar? Why would you- you didn’t have to. I could’ve done something, y’know. You shouldn’t have sold it.” He barks out, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips as he shrugs your hands off of his shoulders. “It’s my shop, Y/N. I could’ve found a way to pay for the remaining money that we needed to pay for-”

“Your shop?” Raising your brow, you put your hands on your hips. “Shin, we both decided on buying that shop, it’s not just your shop. It’s ours. And why are you acting like you’re more affected by that guitar than me? It’s my guitar. I paid for it years ago and now, I decided to sell it. Why are you acting like it’s such a big deal?”

“Well then, why are you acting like it’s not a big deal? That guitar has years of memories in it, Y/N! It’s not just some guitar. I know that you hold that guitar dear to you. You played it when you were all alone. Played it when we first became official. The kids love it. You taught Izana how to sing using that guitar and now you’re just going to sell it like it’s nothing!” Shinichiro raises his voice at you, hands moving around, trying to find a way to calm himself down as he feels something tick inside his head.

By now, you can feel your patience running thin as Shinichiro continues to glare up at you, his hands clutching the fabric of his pants as he rubs the back of his head in frustration. Running your tongue over your cheek, you let out a huff. “I know what that guitar means to me, Shinichiro. I’m the one who bought it. But it’s just a damn guitar that I can easily replace if I wanted to. For fucks sake, I can buy it again in the future once we have enough money again but for now, I just thought that you’d appreciate it if I helped with the million yen that we’re still missing for our shop. I just thought that you’d be happy that we don’t have to worry about scraping up some money.” Turning away from him, you busy yourself with pacing around the room, unable to look at Shinichiro right now, not when you can feel the irritation in your body exploding.

“You didn’t have to do that for the shop. It’s my shop and I would’ve found a way to-”

“There you go again with you calling it ‘your’ shop.” Throwing your hands in the air, you stomp over to your boyfriend, glaring straight at him. “Shinichiro. It’s our shop. You may have first dreamt of it, first thought of wanting it. But now. It’s not just your dream, okay? It’s ours. It’s our dream and we’re both working for it and if you find it so hard to accept that I sold a damn guitar to help you, then fine. Use the money on something else and stop talking to me like I just threw our relationship out the door just because I sold a piece of wood with some fancy accessories on it.”

Shinichiro lets out a loud groan, hand aggressively rubbing his head in frustration. “You don’t fucking get it! It’s not just the guitar. I’m supposed to be the one providing for us both and you-”

“Are you fucking insane? Is that really why you’re upset? You can’t accept a little help?”

It seems as if both of your words have only sunk in now that the two of you are glaring at each other, teeth bared and ready to say things that will most likely hurt the both of you once you utter them into existence.

The air is tense, feeling heavy and hard to breathe as the two of you lay still in the room, unsure on how to approach each other after what seems to be an explosive argument that sprung up from thin air.

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose my temper-”

“I think we’re both tired, Shin.” You sigh out, shoulders dropping as you give him a glance before walking over to the dresser. “We should probably rest for tonight. Finish this in the morning. We’re not going to get anywhere if we keep talking while we’re both clearly drained.”

Stiffly nodding, Shinichiro watches with anticipation as you take out your phone and a jacket. “I’m going to Wakasa’s for tonight.”

“No wait, Y/N-” Shinichiro reaches out for you, trying to stop you from walking out.

“Shin, we can talk this out tomorrow, okay? Go get some sleep. You’re tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Gently removing his hand from your arm, you give him a smile. “I love you.” Pressing a kiss on the edge of his lips, you walk out of the bedroom and into the garden where you text Wakasa to give you a ride back to his place, not in the mood to be spending the night alone at your own house.

As for Shinichiro, he’s left standing by the door, eyes closed in desperation as he pinches his arms. “I messed up…”

It only feels like a few seconds has passed when he hears someone knock on the door, but alas, it seems as if the knocking is coming from the other door which leads inside the house instead of the one where you just walked out from. Trudging over to it, he slowly opens the door, revealing Emma and Manjiro, both of them looking up at him with wide and curious eyes. “Did… did the two of you have a fight?” He hears Emma mumble, her hands holding onto Manjiro’s.

“We heard the two of you talking loudly when we were sneaking into the kitchen for some snacks and decided to listen in but then it got quiet. We were scared something bad happened.” Manjiro says as he takes a look inside, immediately noticing your absence. “Where’s Y/N?”

Running a hand through his hair, Shinichiro gives the two kids a smile, trying to ease their worries. “Don’t worry, Y/N just… needed to go visit Wakasa for the night.”

Opening the door a little wider, he steps to the side. “You kids wanna sleepover? I don’t think I’ll be able to be alone tonight.” He tries to joke around though his chest still feels heavy. Thankfully though, the kids seem to have not noticed.

“Of course! Who would I be if I let my older brother get visited by nightmares and monsters at night!” Manjiro immediately runs over to the bed, jumping onto the mattress and bouncing a little which makes him giggle followed by Emma running over as well. The two kids leaving their older brother by the door. Though the sight does lessen the frown on his face.

taglist

@lagrimasdeglitter @sseorin @sunahyejin @agoddess-inashell @wakasagurl @diestheticu @queen-flower @salty-salty @the2ndl @crapimahuman @imkumichan @angelmitsuri @coconois @princessatoru @akaashis-liquidluck @bajifairyy @tsukkisukkii @chaoticyuna @missarabellla @kawasbaby @bittermoonlightsblog @yukihime-mikeys-girl @vanderaliwaal @astro-pioneer @nomnom21 @tamakislover @misinfe @starryshi @honeysoob @monsterm21-blog @justalamppost @arisu003 @quacksonlover81 @shaak-ti-s @yuuki4646 @manjiroarchiviste @gouzouuuuu @sh4nn @bubs-world @lordbugs @notsostraightweeb @xbabybajix

#sano shinichiro #sano shinichiro x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyorev #tokrev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokrev x reader #sano shinichiro fluff #sano shinichiro imagines #sano shinichiro angst #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers angst #sano manjiro #umaushi wakasa #sano emma

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helie-brain · 2 years ago

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My Eddie headcanon part 2: Family

A lot of people seemed to like the first one so here are some others. Also I edited some of the previous headcanons so go take a look at the new stuff I put there.

- his family:

- mom: a tall (5′7) slender woman with thick straight light brown hair with blunt bangs and big chestnut brown eyes. She worked as a waitress at a near by diner. She was a nice basic woman, who wanted the best for her child. She cared for him and made sure he had what he needed. She feed him correctly and took him to all doctor appointments. She wasn’t the most affectionate however and only paid some attention to his likes.

- dad: a somewhat tall (5′11) taut man with thin curly black hair running down to his neck parted slightly to the left. and sunken chocolate brown eyes. He had a few tattoos on his arms and chest: skulls, hearts, son’s name, a pin up girl, daggers. He worked at the plant with his older brother Wayne, as a car mechanic at a near by auto shop (where he learned to hot wire a car from his work friends) and later a drug seller with his friend Rick. He loved metal music and had his own guitar which he knew how to play pretty well. He was somewhat childish, not always reliable (late to work, forget bills). But he loved his son and spending time with him.

- Wayne: about the same size of his brother but not as muscular. He is 5 or so years older than his brother. He had curly black hair that he kept short because he didn’t have the time to take care of it. He was born in Hawkins but got tiered of the craziness of the town so once he turned 18 he moved south where he met the love of his life and got married and she later became pregnant. Unfortunately there were some complications during the pregnancy and both the wife and baby died. He never remarried and fell into a sort of depression, even missing his brother’s wedding. Wayne is a practical man, very honest, hard working and responsible.

- His parents met the diner where the mom worked, and after a few months got married. Wayne at that time was living somewhere south (Tennessee or Kentucky). He moved back to Indiana when Eddie was born so that he could help raise the kid. They lived in a one floor home in a lower middle class family neighborhood. First few years of Eddie’s life were alright; Wayne worked more hours so that Eddie’s mother could take off and take care of Eddie. On days when they were not working: Eddie’s dad would listen to metal with him and show him how to play guitar, Wayne would bring him to his trailer and play around with the pillows making forts/castles, his mom and her sisters would go on walks, read to him.

- what happened: his mother was tiered of his father’s behavior and financial situation. The two would fight at times and Eddie would read LOTR (a book that Wayne would read to him when he visited him) as away to escape the noise. His mom, not wanting to continue fighting, started having an affair with one of the customers at the diner. One day Eddie’s dad is let go from the plant since they don’t need that many workers. Afraid of what this would do to their life she ran away and married the guy she was having an affair with. At this time Eddie was about 9 or 10 years old. Eddie’s father was distraught after losing his job and wife that he became venerable and out of control. His friend Rick pushed him into using drugs and selling it. To hide his vulnerability to his son, he would do some crazy stuff with him; bring him to the hideout, show him how to hot wire a car, vandalize property, shoplifting. Activities that he was doing with his friend at night while Eddie was at Wayne’s home. Wayne at this time was working double shifts so that he could get more money for Eddie (to get stuff he wants/needs, his own place, further his education). One night, when Eddie was about 11 or 12, Eddie’s dad was doing a drug deal but he was caught by the police. He ran from them, hotwired the police car and speed down the street and crashing into someone (badly wounded) but still kept going. The police finally caught him after he crashed into a building. He was arrested, had a trail and is in prison for 13 or so years. The police brought Eddie to Wayne, since his mother put him as an emergency contact and guardian on all legal papers.

- Even if Wayne doesn’t like metal music (too loud and hard to understand) he lets Eddie play it in the trailer. He understands that Eddie needs it to express himself. He even gets him his first guitar after Eddie’s 7th grade year and his second guitar after his sophomore year.

- One day while watching some television, he saw something about Dungeons and Dragons, a fantasy game in which you can make your own character and story. An activity in which Eddie could have some control, you know since his life before was out of control. He asked his uncle if he could get it, even insisting that he will pay. But Wayne said he would give it to him for his 13th birthday.

#stranger things #eddie munson #headcanon #wayne munson #eddie's mom #eddie's dad #heavy metal #hawkins #sorry for the long post #Wayne is the best #poor eddie

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munsonenthisiast · 4 years ago

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Then & Forever

A/N: I wrote this in like five days and had my bestie edit. This is my first time writing anything, but I love Josh so-

Summary: Since you started working for GVF, you and Josh had grown close to each other over the years. This time you hope your feelings don't get in the way of ruining everything you built.

Contains: Smut, drinking, smoking, cursing

WC: 10.9k

"So you're saying that. . . you've never played an instrument before?" Sam pointed at his bass. You laughed at the question, sipping your beer. "Correct." Sam furrowed his face in confusion. "Then why do you have a degree IN music if you can't play?" Josh hit Sam on the shoulder with a pencil making a small face. You shrugged your shoulders, swishing the alcohol around your mouth. "I don't know, It's just something I've never wanted to do, you know. I guess it's one thing knowing about an instrument rather than playing it."

Everyone nodded in agreement. "Well, if you did play anything I'm sure you'd be really good at it." Josh smiled towards you. He went back to writing in his journal while everyone else went back to respectively playing their own instruments.

But for you, it seemed a long way home. Never did it cross your mind that you would basically be living with four different people from time to time. Especially not so quickly. Greta Van Fleet was your first job, and really, first anything. From high school until now, you were alone. Which made you a little grumpy when working with people, but none the less you warmed up to them quickly. Especially Josh, who always seemed attached to the hip with you.

Josh may have annoyed you a tiny bit at first, but his euphoric mind is what intrigued you in the first place. He always seemed so wise, knowing the right answer to everything. And the way he wrote the lyrics to songs, just naturally appeared to him somehow. It was truly magic.

Jake smacked you on the arm, calling for your attention. "Ok, what do you think of this." He pulled the guitar over his lap, playing the notes he came up with. You quickly wrote down the notes he played, looking out for any correction. "So what do you think?" He asked, flailing his arms around. Running your pencil down the piece of paper, you started to shake your head. "I think it sounds pretty good," you said looking at Josh, who also nodded his head in compliance. "What would also sound cool is if you gave it a little vibrato during a live show."

Jake smiled writing the commentary down on a sticky note. "You know, for not knowing how to play, you really are smart with this kind of stuff." You glared your eyes at him, snickering just a little bit. Everyone worked for a couple of more hours, before calling it a night. Danny and Sam were practically sleeping on each other.

You shook Sam awake, snatching his car keys from his hand. "We'll both be dead if you drive, and were the most important in the band. Well, besides Danny. And Jake. And Josh." You twirled the keys around your finger while Sam stretched to get awake. Josh flipped all the pages over in his journal, turning to you. "We got pretty far today, don't you think?" Josh smiled at his brothers, who were already arguing about something. "Yeah. Maybe we'll get better stuff done tomorrow, you know. This is supposed to be the 'fun' part," you said using air quotations, "but the most boring part out of everything. But maybe, in the end, it'll all be worth it." you hit Josh's arm softly.

"Are you going with Sam?" you nodded quickly. "Yeah, I kind of promised him I would help him with some stuff in the morning." Josh looked sadder than ever. You smiled at Josh, noticing Sam waiting by the door with Jake and Danny. "I'll see you later." You gave Josh a quick kiss on the head.

"Let's go." you wiggled a finger at Sam, practically dragging him to the car. The ride to Sam's house was fairly quiet other than the little snores coming from him. It was nice to get a moment or two of peace to yourself. Working and living with four grown men gave no room for privacy. Everything is shared between you all. Which you had to admit, scared you a little at first because you've always grown up with a sister and maybe a few girlfriends here and there; but you were never as close to them, then as you were to the band.

The house was quiet when you walked in, dark and dim from the night sky. Sam immediately walked to his bedroom, and passed out on his bed. Which left you alone in the kitchen. Putting some of the items away in cabinets, you looked around at all the brothers' family photos, including some of Danny. It made you smile to yourself to see some of them so young and happy. Maybe a little vulnerable too. You were a little envious of how confident some of them had been with their work, just being able to put themselves out there, accepting failure. Not you though. Failure made you angry, furious even. Sometimes it got so bad, you'd hide away for days without any contact with the outside world.

After putting all the trash away, you headed back to the spare room. You turned on all the lights, changing into some warmer clothing. Crawling under the sheets, sleep came easy that night.

When you woke up, the blinds had been left the night before causing you to shoot out of bed. Quickly rubbing your eyes, you went to the bathroom to clean up a bit. When you walked towards the kitchen, your feet padded beneath you. Sam still wasn't up, which was pretty normal. You started some coffee and cooked breakfast for the two of you. Though, something triggered you to open a forbidden drawer and bum a cigarette. Quickly lighting it, you messed around with food until it was cooked.

"A cigarette at 8 in the morning?" Sam questioned groggily, clad in just sweatpants. "Well, you know me; I only smoke when I'm forgetting something." You both said in unison. You quickly waved him off, pouring food onto a plate for both of you. "I wonder WHO you're forgetting." You scrunched your face, looking around the room. "What do you mean who?" Sam scoffed. "Josh," You quickly rolled your eyes, slamming the plate down on the table "Eat the fucking food you loser." You both contently ate in peace while making some playful banter here and there. "So what exactly do you need help with?" Sam pulled out a cigarette from the cartridge, silently lighting.

"I need help with a decision." Sam stared at you while you nodded your in question, pretending like you at least understood what he was talking about. "Look, I just want you to go with me to buy another bass, ok. And I want to go to the record store." Narrowing your eyes, you pulled the cigarette from him. "I feel like this is something completely different than what you're telling me." Sam shook his head slowly. "Nope. I still want to keep the mint-colored bass, but I just want to have a cool collection, you know. Oh, let's buy something expensive!" He pointed the smoke at you, while you collected the dishes to put in the sink. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, please. We can not go broke. Not like last time." You shuddered at the thought.

"Thanks for the food. I'm gonna get ready." You flinched your eyebrows and kept washing the dishes, putting them in the dishwasher. You quickly went back to the room for a change of clothes. By the time you were done, Sam was waiting at the door for you. Grabbing your coat and your shoes, you both headed out the door. Sam was walking coolly beside you, as you both looked around the town. Shops were lining down the small street, with cars passing through. He put his arm around your shoulder as you both passed through large crowds. Finally finding the music shop, you both walked in, heading to a certain section.

"So remind me," He paused to look at a sleek grey bass, flipping it over a couple of times. "Why don't you ever get with Josh? I mean he obviously likes you." You scoffed a little bit at his statement. "I thought we were here for you Sam, not to talk about me." You picked up a dark wood bass, showing it to Sam. "I mean with that same logic why don't I ever get with you? I mean we're close, right?" He rolled his eyes, still playing with the instrument you showed him.

"I think I like this one." Sam brought it up to the counter, talking to the girl up front. Who seemed to really enjoy the conversation they were having. Turning on your heel, you waited by the door playing with some random drum sticks. Sam eventually walked over and led you out. "It'll be delivered in a couple of weeks. I bought a whole new one." You pursed your lips smiling at Sam. "Did you also manage to snag that poor girl's number?"

Sam pushed you upside the head as you walked into the record store. You both parted ways looking at different sections. You flipped through vintage albums, picking out random ones you thought everyone would enjoy. After looking through some more, Sam found you and walked to the front to pay. "You found quite a lot there," Sam said, peeking through the ones in your hand.

"Yeah, figured I could add a bit to my very depressing collection." you chuckled, looking at one of the sleek covers. "Don't you have like two?" you glared back at Sam. "Which I believe are both of your band's albums." Sam laughed. You both paid, bags in hand.

"So what now?" you asked Sam as you both mindlessly walked around. "Probably go home. Want me to take you back?" You nodded in agreement and headed back to his car.

After saying goodbye to Sam, you walked back up the stairs to your apartment. When you opened the door, Josh appeared from your room, causing you to nearly break the table in the hallway.

"What the hell Josh!" He shrugged his shoulders, making his way to the couch. "What are you doing here?"

"I was waiting until you got back from hanging out with my brother. What were you two doing anyway?" Pouring a glass of water from the sink, you took a sip, and made your way to the couch next to Josh. You leaned your head back on the cushion, staring at the ceiling. "Sam bought a pretty hefty bass, and bought more records." You looked over at Josh. "What about you?"

"Well you know," he sighed. "Tried to work on writing up some new lyrics. Even went over to Danny's and Jake's to work some stuff out. It's coming along nicely." Setting the cup down on the coffee table, you looped an arm around Josh's, leaning your head on his shoulder. "Good. It'll come out beautifully in the end," you said patting his hand. You sniffed, sitting up in your seat. "Are you staying for dinner?" Josh hummed looking up at you. "Oh yeah. I was actually wondering if I could stay for the night; get's kind of lonely at my place." You nodded.

"Yeah, that's fine." You walked over to the kitchen. "Anything in mind you want to eat?" you asked. "Uh, how about that chicken. The one you make with the rice, mushrooms, and asparagus." You started to pull out the pots and pans, placing them on the stove. You leaned back on the counter watching everything cook. To be quite frank, you didn't know how you would handle Josh staying over. Of course, you and Josh were rather close, it even shocked people that you knew each other so well. After all, he knew you better than your own blood.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. On one hand, it would give you time to think some things over and ponder the questions Sam had asked you earlier today. And then you could for sure decide what you wanted to do. You grabbed some plates and moved the food over to the table. Josh was already seated, patiently awaiting your arrival.

"Looks good, as always." he complimented, raising his hands towards you. "Thanks, Josh." you smiled.

"So," he said, chewing his food. "What happened at the music store?" Rolling your eyes at the thought of Sam annoying you, you told him about how he was flirting with the girl at the front desk. "I mean just giggling, and laughing, it was like watching teenagers make out." You made a small coughing noise thinking about Sam flirting with that poor girl. "But, you know, as they say, there's someone for everyone," you said sarcastically, shaking your head. Josh let out a high-pitched laugh at Sam. "That's Sam for you. He bore you with anything else?"

You thought about all the moments were Sam had bullied you over liking Josh or falling in love with Josh. Of course, you loved Josh but you weren't sure whether you were 'in love' with him per se. He was practically your other half. Nobody else could compare to that. But it was hard to decipher whether you even liked him like that. "You know. The usual; stuff about when you all were younger and more embarrassing moments."

Josh covered his face with his hands, groaning. "I hope it wasn't all too bad." He shook his head, eating the last bits of food. "Not at all, actually." As you both finished your plates, you sat in comfortable silence. That was until Josh spoke out about something.

"Hey remember that time- ugh geez, when was it," he asked, pressing on his face. "Probably around the time I first met you, and I pretty much knew then you hated my fucking guts, man" You let out a breath at the thought of Josh thinking you hated him. "But that was also the time I kept catching you listening to the album at the time. Just over and over and over again." Josh just shook his head thinking of you. "I didn't- hate you," you confessed. "I just really didn't know how to be around people so much. I did like that album though." you laughed, pointing at Josh. Who also laughed along with you. "Look, I'm sorry I made you feel that way; I just, I've never really had close friends like you." Before he could say anything back, you picked up the plates, placing them in the sink.

From inside the kitchen, you could hear him talking to his brothers on the phone. The usual screaming, laughing, and anger from whatever stupid joke someone told. It honestly made you wish you were closer to your own sister. Whom you haven't spoken to in the past ten years. After you finished off with the dishes, you walked to your bedroom. Which was hard to admit, but you had an entire wall full of Greta Van Fleet photos from when you first started working with them because you had a hard time telling who was who.

"Oh, I remember these photos!" Josh exclaimed as walked into your room. He marveled at all the photos you had printed out and plastered on the wall. Some even had labels of all the boy's names. "Yeah, a little creepy, don't you think?"

Josh shrugged. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt because you didn't know who we were, and I know some people have a hard time differentiating between us twins." You turned around and opened up the bag full of record vinyl, handing some to Josh. "Here, I bought some for you earlier, and I figured I could use some- given the only two I have are from your band." He giggled, flipping through the different albums. "Oh, Bob Dylan! What a legend and old Michael Jackson! Very good stuff." You patted his shoulder as you put away all the other albums on a shelf.

"So, the spare bedroom should be good-" Josh cut you off. "I was hoping to sleep with you, actually. Unless that makes you too uncomfortable." You nearly choked on your own spit when Josh asked you that. You really didn't think he'd be that lonely. "Um, no that's fine. I'm sure I have someone's clothes here you can use." He grinned.

"Thanks." You handed him some spare clothes and left him to change in the bathroom. When you returned he was already tucked in, facing the wall with the pictures. Turning off the light, you quietly slid in next to him. You'd never really been in this much of an intimate situation, no less next to Josh. It wasn't awkward, but it was just hard to decipher the feelings of the both of you, and where he was going with his suggestion. "Can I ask you something?" Josh whispered. He turned around to face you closer.

"What was your initial thought when you first met me?" You laughed a little to yourself. "When I first met you I wanted to be exactly like you." Josh propped himself up on his elbow, leaning even closer to you.

"What about me?" he asked. "I don't know. You were always so confident, and the way you carried yourself; just, it made me so mad and angry that I couldn't be like that. Maybe that's why it came off that I hated you a little bit." Josh laid back down.

"Listen, you'll always be the best thing that happened to me. When I first met you, I thought you had the most brilliant mind out of everyone I ever met. Except for Danny. He's got an excellent brain." You smacked his arm laughing out loud.

"Thank you, Josh." You rolled over onto your side, hoping to fall asleep soon. Before you did though, you felt Josh slip an arm around your side; his face falling into the back of your neck. Soon, both of you fell asleep together.

When morning came the next day, Josh was still entangled in your back, but this time his arm was hugging you tighter. At any slight movement, he just pulled you closer. Finally giving up from moving away from Josh, you laid there silently in his arms. You silently traced the creases in his hand, thinking absentmindedly. He stirred a tiny bit but never woke. You took this time to turn around and look at him. His arm still wrapped around tightly on your shoulder; causing you to bury your face into his chest.

Inhaling his warm scent, you just about closed your eyes imagining a world where you were in love with him, and he loved you back. At this moment, he started to finally wake up. You decided to keep your eyes closed, too embarrassed to see what his reaction would be to find you both like this. You could feel Josh's eyes looking around the room before they made their way down to you. Feeling the certainty of him staring down at you made you panic a little. But then you could feel his hand start to part through your hair, moving it out of your face. His movement followed by leaning forward, giving you a long slow kiss on the forehead.

Then there was the fine sensation of his lips lingering on your skin. He started whispering your name, shaking you awake. You slowly blinked your eyes to make it look like you hadn't really been awake all this time. He smiled brightly when you both made eye contact. "Good morning," he said softly. You smiled, placing a hand on his chest. "Good morning Josh."

Letting out a little yawn, you turned over and sat up on the side of the bed. You sipped on some water that had been on you bedside for a while, then stretched out. "What do you plan on doing today?" you asked groggily. "Everyone wanted to meet up today and go over some stuff. Wanna join?" you quickly nodded your head.

"Great. Well then, I'll go take a shower and get ready." He walked away silently, leaving you all alone once more. Deciding against the better of things, you too got up to shower. While waiting for the water to heat up, you traced against the spots where Josh's hand had been.

It's like there was a space left on you, but you could only feel the invisible touch leftover from him. Jumping in the shower felt like you were committing a terrible sin. The handprint of Josh washed away as every drop of water hit your body. But it felt just as warm and comforting as him. After quickly getting dressed, you met Josh at the front door who was holding it open for you. The crisp autumn air surprised you in the face when you walked outside. The sidewalks weren't too busy but crowded to perfection

You both got in the car and drove to the studio. Everyone was already there by the time you two made it; For some reason, Josh had wanted to stop to get everyone coffee and a bagel, which you really couldn't say no to. Sam raised his eyebrows at you when you walked in with Josh pretty late. You hit him on the arm lightly. Sam rubbed the part of his arm, cursing you off. Everyone, including you, walked into a backroom set with all the instruments anyone could think of, and two very well-loved on couches.

The lights in the room were set to a dim, vintage-style brown, illuminating everyone's tan features. Josh handed the food out, starting the conversation. It varied from topic to topic.

"How is everyone?"

"Are there new ideas anyone wants to talk about?"

"How about we do this instead of that."

Josh snapped his fingers in front of your face, waving his hand around. "Hey silly, I asked you a question." you looked up quickly, meeting everyone's gaze. "Huh?"

"I said do you have any ideas on what we should wear?" You pulled out a small sketchbook from your jacket pocket showing Josh, and the rest of the band on the different aesthetics for clothing. "I was thinking about stitching some nudity art on the back for Josh. I'll probably go shopping for some silk and thread. I found this really cool jacket piece for Jake; I'll add some things on it, and a shiny blazer for Sam. As for Danny, I found these really nice pants, but I have to tailor them. I'm still trying to find a smooth shirt to go with."

You wrote down some reminder notes giving the rest some time to process anything and get started. Josh sat next to you on one of the couches, pulling out his note journal. He pointed out some of the lyrics, whispering to himself before showing it to you. "I came up with these this morning." your cheeks turned red, though you doubt Josh could see given how dark it was. You read through the lines in each glorious manner. They each had a delicate touch to them, written with something personal

It reminded you of something ethereal. Like being in outer space, and getting to look at all the planets from afar. "What are you thinking?" Josh asked. You let out a short breath before answering. "I think it's good. Really good in fact. I can feel it's personal to you, you know."

Before he could respond, there was a line of curses causing you both to look up. Jake was yelling at himself and the guitar in his hands with a tiny string poking out from the neck of the guitar.

"This fucking piece of shit keeps breaking," he he groaned, with gritted teeth. Rolling your eyes, you went to the other grabbing some new guitar strings. Handing them back Jake, he mumbled out a thank you. "Guess what, it's not that hard to get up and get new strings, Jake. I just did it by myself." Everyone laughed at your taunting to Jake, getting rid of his frustrated mood.

"Well, you're the best." He poked your shoulder. You headed back to another room to think about some more things. Possibly about Josh; but the majority for the band. Really working with them, never gave you time to put yourself out there. Which wasn't a terrible thing. In fact, you preferred not to out. You've always had a one-track mind. Focused too much on one thing, forgetting completely about anything else. It's probably why you'd failed out of most schools during your high school and college career. It always ended up being too much for your brain to handle.

Maybe that's what you feared most. Things always getting in the way; either making you angry, or angry enough to run away and never look back. You didn't want that with Josh. Nor did you want that for this band. You made some more scratch notes, listening to the muffled sound of music. After a while, you doodled in your notebook for some clothing ideas. Stitching had been one of the many skills that stuck with you since when. You never really knew where you learned to do such a thing.

Josh always told you how marvelous your work was. That it belonged in a museum of some sort. He knew somehow that you'd do great things with art. When sketching became boring, you shopped around online for some fabric, and thread, ordering what you needed. When finished some smaller portions of work, you fell back on the couch pushing your hair out of your face. Josh walked in at the right time, pulling you back into the studio.

"We hashed some things out, figured what don't and do want for some of the songs. Think we'll be ready to record in a few weeks." All the boys cheered each other on, pushing each other around. "I think this calls for a celebration over some drinks."

"Great idea. There's a bar a couple of blocks from here. What do you say?" Everyone hummed in agreement, piling out the door. Josh had a hand on your back as he walked you out through all the doors.

When you walked inside there were a few people seated around. It wasn't overbearing crazy. Everyone took a seat at the bar ordering drinks. You had already taken a couple of tequila shots to loosen up for the night. "So tell me," Josh slouched down in his seat. "What do you think the future holds for this band." You giggled, already a little drunk.

"What I think doesn't matter Josh. I think that you'll be successful in whatever you choose to do. I think it's you as the leader to help everyone along. In my opinion, they're here to support you and your ideas. I mean, of course, they have their own input but you get what I'm saying." Josh nodded along, sipping his drink. "That's quite a mouthful, but yeah. I'd do anything for these people. For Christ's sake, three of them are my brothers. And Danny I've known for like ever." He pointed to them, which they were all fighting about something.

Josh shook his head, looking down at the floor. He placed a hand on your shoulder as he left for another drink. Sam soon replaced Josh, slouching in the same position. "What were you two talking about." He waved a finger around your face. To which, you quickly swatted away. "He loves you, Sam. We love you. I love you, Sam."

Sam pursed his lips, squinting his eyes. "You're that drunk already?" You hummed looking at your watch seeing as only twenty minutes had passed. "Well Sam, the night's still young, so I'm willing to get fucking wasted if you are." He quickly nodded his head, ordering the two of you more drinks. As the night went on, all of you managed to play twelve rounds of pool (none of which you won), a game of cards, and meet totally random people. You, including the boys, were completely wasted and it wasn't even one in the morning. Danny and Jake had left to go god knows where, leaving you, Sam, and Josh talking to some random girl at a table. Looking over at Josh, you felt your heart hurt a little.

Sometimes you wish you had the assertiveness that Josh had to talk to him. Deep down you knew he would never reject you. He would randomly bring up why you never got together, but you always dismissed the conversation too scared of what might happen. Sam slipped next to you, turning his chair around to face you. He followed your line of sight, his eyes landing on Josh laughing with the same girl who's been here for hours.

"Look, if it pisses you off that much, talk to him later. It's not like he's gonna hate you for the rest of his life. He practically loves you to death." You shook your head, taking another drink of your beer. "I'm just- I'm not mad- I'll just never be able to be that person who can just randomly walk up to a person and fall 'in love' with them." You cried. Every time you think about it, you just want to go to bed and hide. "But how come I never end up with people like you or Jake or even sweet people like Danny. Why does it have to be Josh?"

Sam sat up in his chair, turning it back around to face the bar. "Why don't you try it. Maybe you fighting inside that big head of yours really doesn't like Josh after all." Sam said as he cradled your face, shaking it around. "Really?" Sam shrugged. "What's the worse that can happen? If something happens, so be it. Never hurts to try anything."

Sam bent down quickly, kissing you softly. His lips felt smooth against yours like running a hand over pliable silk. He swiftly ran a hand through your hair, pulling your face closer to his. Finally, he pulled away, smiling down at you.

"Nope." you shook your head. "Well hey, at least we know." He patted your shoulder, walking away towards a game of cards being played.

The next day you woke up with an intense headache. There was some leftover water and Ibuprofen on your nightstand. You didn't know how you made it back home or really remember anything at all from the night before.

You downed the pill and some water, making your way slowly to the bathroom, balancing yourself on a wall. You turned on the shower letting the hot water settle the uneasiness in your stomach. The pounding inside your head kept going on for what felt like hours. It didn't help either that you were trying so hard to remember the night before. Of course, you knew that you drank more than you could handle. Then there was Sam. But it all stopped there.

The shower helped a little bit. You danced around to find some clothes to get ready, or at least look decent. After getting ready, you drove back to Sam's. When he opened the door, you noticed Jake and Danny were there already. Except for no Josh. Not that it was out of the ordinary, it was just something you expected.

You made your way through his kitchen, pulling out a cigarette. "I don't think you really wanna be smoking that right now." You glared at him before putting the smoke out. "Um, do you remember what happened last night?" You asked, rubbing the small spot on your head in hopes to get rid of the pain. Sam bit into a piece of food, answering with his mouth full. "We kissed. Yeah," he nodded in assurance. "Yeah, we kissed." You let your head fall into your hands, groaning.

"How'd I get home?" Sam hummed, pointing his piece of food at you. "Josh. Although, he seemed pretty pissed at me. You were also super drunk." Right, you thought. Of course, this would happen to you. Partially you blamed yourself for being so stuck-up and bitchy most of the time, but part of you wishes Sam just pushed you away. Why were you so indecisive all the damn time? For once, it would be nice if you could make a whole-hearted decision without going out and fucking everything up.

You scratched around your eye, watching Sam as he went to go sit next to Jake.

4 weeks later. . .

It really had been almost a whole month that you had gone without talking to Josh. Some nights you wish you could pick up your phone and just text him, but you know it would go unnoticed. It hurt just a little bit. Every day you blamed yourself for screwing things up. When was it not your fault that something went wrong?

You sat bored at home. You tried to catch up on different things like laundry, cleaning, reorganizing literally everything, but nothing seemed to work. You muffled curses under your breath at nothing. That was until you got a text from Jake saying that everyone needed your 'strong womanly brain' to work with. Over the four-week period, you hadn't really talked with the other band members except for Danny (who seriously cares for anybody and everything), and Sam who just random stuff.

You flipped through a random magazine, flipping through the pages reading about the different styles and how to flaunt them. That was until a text from Sam disturbed you saying that everyone needed you at the studio ASAP.

You ran to your door faster than ever, quickly putting on your coat and shoes. When you arrived, no one was seen at first, so you went to the back and everyone was gathered around in a large, huddled circle. Jake was the first to greet you, Sam following close behind.

"Hey! I haven't seen you in a long time." Jake towered over you, pulling you into his side. "Yeah, my mom called. Wanted me to go see her." you lied, looking at Sam, who had just turned in the other direction. "Well, I hope she's doing good. Look, I wanted to see your opinion on some things. Just general stuff, okay?" you nodded. He led you back to a table and passed some papers around, and a little CD that had pre-recorded music. Before any of you could speak though, a door creaked loudly, and out came Josh with a petite girl beside him. His smile immediately disappeared when his eyes landed on you.

The girl looked. . . nice. In other words, she looked like a pleasant enough girl Josh would pick from a crowd. She had a tan, rich skin like his. With wavy, brown hair. Unlike Josh, she had more hazel-green eyes. Everyone stood there awkwardly, looking around at each other. You scratched the top of your head, eyes facing down towards the table. Jake cleared his throat before grabbing a seat for Josh, and the girl.

And of course, to make more room they were both seated in between you and Jake, making her sit right next to you. You smiled nervously towards her as she got herself situated. For a while, you stared at the velvet walls as Jake led on the conversation. You felt a little poke on your arm and noticed she was trying to talk to you.

"Hi, I'm Logan," she whispered. The one thing you noticed about Logan was her smile. It reminded you of Josh. His naturally bright teeth could make anyone instantly happier. "Y/N," you said curtly. You weren't the one to start a conversation, but luckily she made it easy.

"So, how do you know Josh?" she asked, pointing to him. You played around with your nails, turning to look at her. "Uh, I work for him," Not 'I'm his best friend or anything. Totally just ruined the relationship I had by kissing his younger brother because I'm really in love with the man your dating' "And them too, of course." you gave a hesitant laugh, pointing to the rest of them. She bit her lip, turning to listen to the conversation, and then back to you.

"How long have you known all of them, or like worked for them I guess?"

"Around three years. This will be my fourth I think." she nodded with your answer. Finally, she turned back around to listen to what Josh was saying.

You looked back down at the disc, swirling it around on the table. This is hard, you thought. It's all you can think about. Logan's so kind towards you; not the weirdly hostile type. She's not annoying, not inconclusive about anything. Logan's perfect in her own way. She's perfect to Josh. Something you've always wanted, but you, yourself stopped you from having.

"So, uh Y/N, can you take a listen to the CD?" Jake asked you. "Yeah. It'll just be a little later though. I have to finish some other stuff." There was silence as everyone stared at you. Including Josh, who seemed to have a permanent look on you.

"I can listen; if you're busy," Logan speaking up caught you by surprise. It may have angered you a bit because that was your job, to listen. You just looked back at Sam anxiously, who shook his head at you.

"Oh, my bad," Josh said loudly. "This is my girlfriend- Logan. Who you have all met before, but not Y/N. Forgot to introduce you two." If everyone hadn't been in the room right now, you would've gotten up and hit him right across the head. Logan kindly smiled back at you. "Yeah, we were talking earlier," She said pointing to you. "Well, as I said, I can listen if you can't."

If it was anybody else, you would've said something back already. But who were you to yell at this kind, beautiful woman next to you? Though, Sam must've read you wrong since quietly grabbed your wrist. "Sure," you said, handing the CD to Logan. Sitting back in your chair, defeated, what else were you supposed to do?

Another lousy week passed, and you wanted to jump off a roof. It had been raining for the past few days, never letting up once. No one had really made contact with you except Danny (you secretly loved him to death), and Sam. You were pretty sure the rest had picked up on the tense atmosphere and didn't want to bother you. No doubt, you probably wouldn't want to speak with yourself either.

You shrugged off a sweater, playing with the end of your sheets. Life was so boring now without any entertainment from anyone. You eventually rolled over on your back, staring a hole into the ceiling. You went over every excuse and explanation you could give to Josh. You understood why he was mad, you figured that much. But sometimes you wish he had his smart wisdom back to understand you better.

You fell to the floor sometime later, reading something random off the shelf. You flipped through the pages mindlessly before you heard some knocking at your door. You ran quickly, opening the door to find Sam standing there with bottles of gin and tequila in his hand. Laughing quietly, you led him inside, finding some bottles for drinks.

"What brings you around?" you raised your eyebrows, pouring some tequila for you and Sam. "Josh," he cleared his throat, taking a few sips. "What about Josh?" Trying to hold your breath, made you curious as to why Josh's younger brother was so angry at him. In fact, you wanted to burst out laughing. "He's so stubborn with everything, and the way he talks about you. God- it's like- I've never seen so much hatred from him." Sam shook his head downing the rest of his drink. He poured some more in his cup and your cup.

You took Sam's hand leading him to your room. You put on Labi Siffre, an old, classic album. You also turned on one of your dim colored lights. They lit up Sam's cheekbones perfectly, making his pale skin glow flawlessly. It looked smooth enough to run a finger over and feel the gentle, velvety skin of Sam.

"How does he talk about me?" Sam closed his eyes, thinking. "He just doesn't let go of the subject. Anytime you or I come up, it's just this rage of fury from him. He almost shuts down essentially. You know," he burped. "They all went out tonight."

You hummed at that. "They all went out, leaving behind you and me." You scoffed at the thought of Josh with Logan at your favorite bar or restaurant. "I'm so sorry Sam." You rubbed his arm, looking down at the floor next to your bed. "That was you and your brother's relationship, and I just," you flicked your hands, making a whoosh sound. Sam laughed, leaning into your side. "Don't worry about it. I like helping you out. Josh can be a little much sometimes."

You elbowed him in the side thinking about something. "Hey whatever happened to the girl from the music shop? You ever talk to her lately?"

"Yeah," he huffed out. "We've been talking lately. She wants to meet up sometime soon, but I don't know." You cocked your head to the side. "Why not. You clearly like her and she really likes you. I don't remember when the last time some actually liked you." Sam pretended he was hurt, pushing you to the side. "I'll ask her sometime when I'm not busy. She's nice."

"And pretty?" you questioned. Sam let out a laugh, swirling the alcohol in his cup. "Very pretty." You both let out sighs sitting in comfortable silence. Although, your mind was occupied with thoughts of Josh, swirling around and never-ending. There were times you just wanted to get up and say fuck it and try to at least explain. But of course, the rejection of him never wanting to be your friend again would kill you. Maybe this was the universe's cruel way of saying you and Josh were never meant to be together in the first place.

If so, you hated it.

Surprisingly, Sam was the first to wake up. Which rarely happens considering how well you knew him. The poor boy slept through everything. He started shaking you awake, poking and tickling your sides. "Are you dead, jeez?" You quickly rubbed your eyes, sitting up. "Sorry, the alcohol must've really knocked me out." Sam stifled a yawn, sitting on the edge of your bed. "Well, we can do one of two things today," he noted. "We can either go to the studio and face my brother, or we can- do nothing else. That's really it. I kind of swore I would be there today."

You couldn't stay inside any longer. You decided against the greater good to tag along with Sam. Maybe you could talk with Josh, and clear the air. "Can I go with you?" Sam nodded feverishly. "Of course; that's like your job."

"It doesn't feel like it. Logan's pretty much taking over, so what's the point of me." You scoffed thinking of the mellow girl who seemed to get along with everyone. You hated to slander her, but you just wanted Josh back. You and Sam left in a rush, hastily driving to the studio. You walked inside with a cigarette dangling from your lips, smoke escaping through your nose. Sweat seeped from your palms making you excited and nervous at the same time. You felt like an outsider coming in on your job. Thinking about seeing Josh made it worse.

"Hello, Hello Y/N" Danny strutted over, hairs sticking to his forehead. He pulled you in for a tight hug, nearly suffocating you. "Hey, Daniel." you moved the hairs around his face so you could see him better. "Long time, no see, man." He laughed walking back to his seat behind the drum kit. You followed Sam to the other rooms where Jake and Josh might be hiding. Sure enough, Josh was standing next to his twin, listening to a riff he was playing. They immediately stopped talking to each other. Josh scoffed at you as Sam led you inside, beside him.

"Look what the cat dragged in!" Josh said it lowly, spitting it towards you. Your eyes looked down, not daring to ever lookup. "Hey Josh," Sam patted him on the shoulder. You looked awkwardly around the room looking for a means to escape. When you realized there wasn't one, you looked back at Josh. He quietly talked to Jake about something before turning to you. You tried to look away fast enough, but his eyes caught yours. Josh started to stalk close to you, exhaling a breath. "Hey," you thought he might've not heard you, but his response caught you off guard.

"Hey, Y/N" He sniffled a little bit before turning towards you. "Care to take a walk with me? Could use some fresh air." You nodded your head silently, following after him. If your anxiety hadn't kicked in yet, it sure as hell did now. Josh was never a person to scare you. He was too light and giddy for him to be somewhat freighting.

He walked slightly behind you with a hand on the small of your back. Josh eventually let go of you when you both made it to the sidewalk. The people around you made the silence slightly more comfortable but you wished you had something to think about other than Josh. After a few more moments of silence, you decided to speak up, but Josh beat you to it. "I'm sorry for being an ass," he cleared it all out on one breath. You scoffed at him. "I think you were being more than an ass, Josh." He suddenly slowed his walking to match your pace.

"You pretty much left me in the wind. I thought I lost my best friend," you nudged him softly in the ribcage, laughing. He held a hand over his chest, heaving out a relieved breath. "I thought you were going to hate me forever." You pointed at him before saying: "Pull anything like that again, and I'll do more than just hate you forever."

Josh held his hands up abruptly like you had caught him stealing something. "I promise." You smirked. The both of you walked around endlessly making small talk here and there. Part of you was glad that you and Josh had cleared the air. Although, you hadn't really talked with him about Sam. It embarrassed you just thinking about the whole situation.

After you made a full round of the streets, Josh walked you back inside the studio. It was hours before anyone ever got to go home. The moon had fully risen and was shining brightly in the sky. You stared up like a child, holding on tightly to your coat. When you were making your way towards Sam's car Josh had grabbed you by the elbow.

"Y/N," Josh fiddled around with the collar of his jacket, looking down at the concrete. Even though it was pitch black outside, you could tell Josh's face was heating up. "I was wondering if you wanted to come back with me? I know Sam was taking you home, but I still feel like we need to talk." A small smile started to quickly form. You nodded not thinking about the harm that could come from staying with Josh.

"Yeah, sure." you let a hesitant sigh before following him once more. When you arrived inside Josh's home it felt almost foreign. There were slightly disheveled things around, but nothing had really changed. It still had all the same scattered records on the coffee table as well as random books set around the countertops. Josh flipped on the light switch and went towards the kitchen. He came back out and handed you a cup of water before taking off his coat.

"I know, it's been a long time since we spoke," he started. "or even hung out together."

You nodded, sipping some of the water. "Yeah, I kind of missed that."

After you and Josh got situated, he led you back to his room. There was a dim lamp, along with some new fairy lights scattered around the ceiling. "Fairy lights?" You pointed to the little bulbs sparkling brightly. "Oh, yeah," Josh was picking out a record, finally placing it on the player. It was an album you hadn't heard before, but it seemed to fit the mood well enough. Looking around for a little bit longer you come to find some old pictures on the floor. Squatting down, you noticed they were photos of his brothers and Daniel when they were younger. But what really caught your attention was a stack neatly dedicated to you.

Some of the photos had showcased some of you and Josh's late adventures, and the concerts you had appeared to. One in particular in which Josh had his arms wrapped around your middle, seated around a bonfire. That was a night you remember very clearly. That was when you realized how much you loved Josh. He never left your side and coddled you close to him. The memory warmed your heart making it beat a tiny bit faster.

"That was a very hot summer night if I remember correctly." Josh peered over your shoulder, studying the picture. "Yeah, it was. Then I passed out inside the van right after that," you laughed loudly, tossing your head back. Running a finger over your face in the picture still reminiscing on the sweet memory, you could feel Josh watching you from across the room.

"Can you come up here for a sec?" Josh patted his mattress, motioning to you. You could tell he was nervous still when he started to fumble around with his nails, not making much eye contact. "Do you remember when I asked you why you envied me so much?" He let out a slow breath, nudging you a little bit with his elbow. You realized the change in the situation and started to mirror his nervous tics.

"Yeah, I just- wish I could carry myself like you. You're always the most confident person in the room; you know things Josh that no one could ever know." The two of you sat in silence for a little bit after you answered. Josh hesitated before speaking again but continued on after pondering for a bit. "Well, I never felt that way around you. For the longest time, I would beat myself up just thinking about how wonderful you are Y/N. The way you think of me is how I always thought of you. Just not as confident because of how quiet you are sometimes." He laughed out the last part making you smile back.

"God, sometimes I just want to cry because of how amazing you are Y/N. Everything you've done for this band, everything you've done for me; I just - I love you." You slowly turned your head to look at Josh, replaying the words over and over again in your head.

He loves you.

"I'm going to assume you mean in it in that way Josh or this would be very embarrassing." Josh snickered, putting both hands on the side of your face. "I mean it in every way possible." He finally pressed his lips to yours, feeling the velvet touch of each other. Josh ran his fingers through your hair, pressing his tongue in an open-mouthed kiss. You moaned quietly when he started to press kisses along your jaw, down to your neck. You could feel his hands start to travel down to your waist, hugging you tightly as it showed in the picture.

Josh continued to bite down on your skin and sucked, leaving bright red marks behind. His fingers squeezed down on your hips before traveling under your shirt. He placed a knee between your legs, pushing you further into the mattress. You looked at each other momentarily as Josh slipped you out of your shirt. He ran his hands over your stomach making you flinch at the sudden touch.

"Josh," His name came out as a whine as Josh slipped off your bra, throwing it towards the floor. You caught the look of awe when his eyes landed on your breasts, your chest heaving slightly. He returned to kissing down your neck making his way down your collar bone. Your hands made their way to his hair, tugging at it when his mouth made contact with your nipple.

He sucked gently, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud. All you could think about was the euphoric thoughts running through your brain. All you could see were stars, showing up in random directions making you lost in the feeling. Josh continued for a while before slowly traveling down to your legs.

Josh looked at you for approval, to which you vaguely nodded in return, before pulling off your pants. You shuddered at the delicate touch of his fingers ghosting along your skin. His hands traveled back up your calves, pressing at your thighs. The room suddenly became too hot as his fingers wrapped around the strap of your underwear, pulling them down your legs. Your breathing was so ragged by now that you thought Josh might've pointed it out already, but he continued to stare down at you with the most mesmerizing look in his eyes. You knew at this point if this had been anyone else, you probably would've wanted to hide under the bed. Something so comforting about Josh made it feel natural to in his grasps.

Josh started down at your ankles, pressing hard kisses up your legs. He hovered over your pelvis just before kissing around your clit. Your legs immediately started to close at the feeling, but his hand pushed them back farther. "Josh, oh my god!" You moaned out into nothing. He continued sucking hard on your clit making the stars in your head come closer to earth.

"Josh, please," Your hands pulled at his curls as he lapped around your center. "You're so fucking wet for me Y/N. Jesus," He moaned into your heat making you squirm on the bed.

"Please Josh, use your fingers, please." You whined mercilessly at the thought of coming around his fingers. It wasn't long before you felt two fingers drag inside of you, along with the feeling of him sucking your clit. You could feel yourself getting nearer to your orgasm as he curled his fingers against your g-spot. "Josh, don't fucking stop!"

At the perfect moment, everything seemed to fall apart in the most beautiful way. You leaned your head back into the pillow as your vision turned white with little black dots appearing randomly. Josh's breath fanned over your heat before he stood up to take off some of his clothes.

"Can't really have sex if I'm still dressed like I'm going to fucking prom or something, Jesus." You giggled loudly while you watched him crawl back over you. Josh pressed a soft kiss to your lips, grinding his hips against you. Your hand slowly ran over his chest, grabbing onto his belt. You fumbled around until you managed to get it undone along with his pants. Josh stared at your face, admiring your features. "I don't think I'll be able to take you seriously for much longer if you don't do something," you whispered.

"Oh yeah?" Josh raised an eyebrow, smiling at you. You slowly reached past his briefs making contact with his hard-on, causing him to moan quietly and start kissing you again.

"Uh, I don't think I have any condoms on me; I didn't really envision fucking you tonight." You smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck. "It's okay. I'm on the pill." You pulled his underwear down, hiking your legs around his hips loosely. You could feel yourself getting wetter as he passively rolled his forefinger over your clit. You kissed him hard, sucking on his tongue. "Fuck me, please," you begged. Josh looked deeply into your eyes, then grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his hips, tightly. He teased you, rubbing himself up and down your center.

You exhaled as he entered you, wrapping a hand around his bicep to steady yourself. Josh's head fell into your neck, feeling his warm breath as he trusted in slowly. He lifted his head to kiss you; He used his hand to move the hairs out of your face, wrapping it around your cranium. "You are so- prepossessing." He whispered, his thrust becoming faster.

Your nails dug into his shoulder blades after he set such a brutal pace that you didn't think you'd be able to keep up with. You took note of how his curls stuck to his forehead. Whenever he thrust in, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer. His thrust started to shake the bed only spurring you on more. Your hands grabbed at his torso, holding onto him tightly.

"Josh," you breathed out, words lost as they left your mouth. "Don't stop." Josh looked between your bodies as they pressed together. He thrust in deep, pressing you into the bed further. You cursed under your breath, trying to hold back the moans only releasing small high-pitched whines. Your head fell back against the pillow, all the tension releasing your body slowly. "Fuck," Josh moaned into your collarbone. He tightened his grip on your thigh, quickening his thrusts.

You ran your fingers along the nape of his neck, feeling the little hairs stick to his body. Josh moaned, feeling him cum deep inside you. His head fell into your neck as you both tried to catch your breath. Josh smiled, pressing kisses to your chest before laying down next to you.

"Fuck you're amazing," Josh mumbled into your ear. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder pulling your head to his chest. His hands ran down your arm, squeezing the tiny bit of flesh. "Tell me something I don't already know Joshua." You flipped over onto your side, Josh following in pursuit. He tightened his arm once more around your stomach this time. He pressed small kisses along your shoulder, laying his face into your hair.

"I love you," He mumbled.

"I love you too." You placed your hand over his, peace finding you easy tonight.

When you woke up the next morning, Josh still had you in his arms, snoring softly. Like you, he liked to get up when it was still dark out, but given last night you couldn't blame either of yourselves for wanting to sleep in. Josh woke up sometime after, pressing small kisses into the nape of your neck down to your shoulder blades.

"Good morning," he said quietly, wrapping his legs around yours, pulling his body closer to yours.

"Morning Josh." You closed your eyes allowing the quiet of the room to comfort you. It seemed pretty peaceful outside, from what you could hear at least. But your mind was running a thousand miles a minute. How did a three-year friendship change so drastically? If someone told you that three years later you'd be sleeping with Josh, you probably start cursing them out at the bare minimum. Josh infuriated you at the beginning, but what changed that you couldn't get enough? Maybe it was his style? Everyone loves Josh's style. He doesn't really care what goes together, as long as it fits him and his outrageous personality. Speaking of which, Josh's personality was unspoken of. People turned heads when he walked through doors because he was always the life of the party. Normal people just naturally gravitate towards him. Heck, you couldn't even keep up the 'holding a grudge' façade for too long because Josh helped you. Maybe you thanked him for that instead.

"I think we need to get up," you said, patting his hand. He protested that you two keep sleeping longer because it's too early. "Josh it's like," you squinted your eyes towards the clock. "Nine am." You yelled, pushing his arm of you.

You ran into the bathroom to pee before jumping in the shower. After taking some time cleaning yourself and changing into something more comfortable (which ended up being one of Josh's old college sweatshirts because he insisted you looked really good in them) you both left to the studio. Of course, the first one to greet you was your favorite out of the four, Daniel. After he finished talking with Josh, he led the both of you to a back room. It was a large decorated room that you hadn't really been in much. The walls were in stripes of inverted red along with carpet having a velvet touch to it. Plaques labeled the wall with other types of scandalous music art.

Jake and Sam walked in together already arguing about something. "Lookey here," Jake pulled you into a side hug, and Sam passed you a drink. "I thought my smoking habits were bad, but drinking at ten in the morning?" you tutted Sam away from you, taking a seat at a large table. "It helps me think more clearly."

Josh took a seat next to you, placing a hand on your thigh. "Hey, you never showed me the finish drawing for your clothing ideas." You raised your eyebrows and said: "I wonder why." You cocked your head to the side, and Josh frowned at you. Snickering to yourself, you handed him a sketchbook. "These are- really good, Y/N. I forgot you could draw so well." You doodled around the paper of a sketched-out Josh in what would be fashion attire for next year. "One of my many hobbies."

He patted your leg before turning his attention to his twin. Sam waltzed over to your side, a cigarette hanging from his lips. "Is that my brother's sweatshirt?" You glared at him before answering a subtle yes. Sam gasped in a fake manner, holding a hand across his heart.

"Are you two in love with each other finally?" Sam laughed at you giving him a side-eye. "Good. you make Josh happy." Content with that, he left to go sit next to Danny. You played around with the drawing some more, later on, moving to a computer to work there. Everyone left you alone to go play in another room which seems to help numb the background noise. Though, it didn't last long until Josh walked through the door. He strutted over to you, rubbing a hand on your back before sitting down.

"How's it goin' in there?" You closed the laptop, turning your attention towards him. Josh talked about how everything's coming along nicely, and Jake is stubborn about everything or how Sam is always messing up. You hummed, following along. Not that you would ever tell Josh, but sometimes you never would really listen to what he was saying, but you loved to watch his hand movements or the expressions on his face. It added to his character. "I meant to ask you some time ago, but uh- whatever happened to Logan?" Josh immediately froze, looking down to the floor like a scolded puppy.

"I told her I would talk to her later this week." You shook your head, crossing your arms. "What?"

"Nothing; I was just thinking we wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for me oodling with your brother." Josh laughed at your choice of words, placing his hand softly on yours. "I think it was both us Y/N."

'Well, in my defense Sam is kind of hot now that I think about it." Josh slapped your shoulder. "Mmmm, you're right Sam does have that 'sense' to him." Time seemed to fly by the five of you, constantly arguing, laughing, or just goofing off with each other. It felt good to be back with everybody, and not walking around on eggshells. Sometimes the moment was so pleasant, you never wanted it to end.

It was eerily quiet when you walked inside Josh's home. It was nighttime, and the moon was full, shining brightly through the curtains. "Don't you ever wish you could see the stars?" Josh asked randomly.

"Light pollution man," He mumbled out, yeah, heading towards his bedroom. You peeked outside the window one more time, catching a glimpse of the clouds in the sky. Josh had changed into some comfier clothing and slid under the covers. You followed in pursuit, still wearing his old college t-shirt. "Where do you think we'll be in ten years?" The question had taken you by surprise. You knew he had a tendency to think a lot about the future, which was kind of admirable, but you had a hard time figuring out what the future would hold for you.

"That's hard to tell; Not unless I kill you first, but uh, I think we'll still be together, and so will the band. I guess it's just up to the rest of us." Josh hummed at your input. He flipped over on his side to look at you. "I hope we're together forever." Your face started to blush, although you doubt Josh could see, this time you wished he did.

"Me too." Your voice came out with full confidence knowing every ounce of you could never let him go. "Hey, do you think you'd ever let me wear your outfits after this next tour? They're kind of stylish if I say so myself." Josh laughed out loud. "I don't think they'd fit you, honey." You scoffed, pouting.

"Josh, I hate to break it to you but you're not that big." A playful laugh escaped your mouth while you pinched his arm. He pushed you back in return. "I meant your height." He shook his head. You turned around, allowing Josh to trap you in his arms.

"I hope I get to see you in heaven. If there is one." The sound of his voice made you want to cry. It was soft whisper that it felt so delicate at this moment.

"I think if you've seen me then, you will see me forever."

#greta van fleet #josh kiszka #sam kiskza #jake kiszka #danny wagner #jake gvf #josh kiszka x reader

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thesquishyrogue · 3 years ago

Text

Rogue's relationships with the rest of the mercs

Scout:

Almost like a brother-sister relationship. They're always goofing off together, joking around, getting on Spy's nerves. Just being the chaotic force of the team. Scout constantly convinces Rogue to play baseball with him, especially after seeing that they both use bats as a weapon (albeit Rogue's has nails driven through it).

Scout: "Aw man, sick bat! Say, you ever actually played baseball? If not I could teach ya. Though, you should probably use a different bat. I'll let ya borrow one of mine!"

Soldier:

He's definitely sort of a weird uncle figure to her. She's always giggling at his ridiculous antics, and he's surprisingly protective of her. Although at the same time he's always impressed by her ability to fend for herself, and fight off men larger than her despite her size.

Soldier: "Hell yeah, look at her go! Kicking ass just like a true American! She makes me proud!"

Pyro:

Oh my goodness. These two. Rogue almost always puts on a tough attitude, especially around the other guys. But around Pyro? They're probably the only person Rogue will be a softie towards. They're constantly seen platonically hugging and cuddling, and Pyro loves when Rogue covers their mask in stickers. They always return the favor by covering her face. Once they come off she treasures them. The others will always comment on how adorable the two are, usually followed by Rogue telling them to fuck off.

Rogue: "If anything were to ever happen to Pyro, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself."

Pyro: (灬º‿º灬)

Demoman:

Their relationship is quite explosive, to say the least. When Demo isn't trying to get Rogue to try some of his alcohol (which always results in Rogue gagging and choking from the bitterness) they're always assisting each other on the battlefield. Mostly in the form of Rogue catapultng Demo's bombs at enemies with her slingshot. They always share a laugh when a BLU team member is blown to bits.

Demoman: "Boom, right in the head! Look at all that blood! Yer aim is getting better and better, lassie!"

Heavy:

Just looking at these two stand next to each other is almost laughable. With Heavy being incredibly larger than everyone and Rogue being incredibly smaller, he practically dwarfs her. He's extremely gentle with her though, and takes care of her in sort of a protective big brother kind of way. Whenever the team is lounging around, she's often either cuddled into him or resting her legs in his lap. He doesn't mind it. He's also let her beat him in arm wrestling numerous times. She knows he lets her win, but she still take the opportunity to boast to the other mercs about it.

Heavy: "Little girl is so strong. You've beaten me again."

Rogue: 😏😏😏

Engineer:

He's also like an uncle figure to her. But unlike Soldier, he's more of the chill laid-back uncle that she can go to for advice. And she often does. Sometimes when she's bored she'll go into his workshop and talk with him as he plays his guitar or she helps out with whatever he's working on. Even if that help is something as simple as just handing him tools, he appreciates it. He appreciates the company too.

Engie: "Alright darlin', can you hand me the screwdriver?"

Rogue: "Uh... which one?"

Engie: "The Phillips."

Rogue: "Uh..."

Engie: "The pointy one."

Rogue: "Oh! Yeah sure I knew that."

Medic:

Like with Engie, Rogue will often go into the infirmary to talk with Medic as he works (she also makes sure he takes a break once in a while and doesn't overwork himself). He also does what he can to help with her depression once that's out in the open, prescribing her any antidepressants he can get his hands on. Though when she first joined the team and he gave her her first annual exam, he was astounded by how many fractures and injuries he'd found that were just left to sloppily heal on their own. The sadistic doctor was actually kind of worried for her, though honestly impressed by her high pain tolerance.

Medic: "Goodness fräulein, this is the fifth fracture I've found! How are you even walking?"

Rogue: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Sniper:

Despite having quite good aim from using a slingshot for years, Rogue was quite inexperienced with guns (not including when she killed her old caretaker at the end of her fighting days). So naturally, Sniper took it upon himself to teach her. He educates her on different types of guns in order to find what works best for her, and the two partake in target practice together. Of course, the two end up bonding during the lessons. She tells him all about her life in the ring, and he tells her about what life was like back in Australia. One thing that Rogue wasn't anticipating, however, was how strong the recoil of a gun can be. She was so unprepared she was thrown right onto her ass in shock.

Sniper: "Crikey! You alright there, mate?"

Rogue: "Yeah I'm fine... fuck, what was that?!"

Sniper: "Recoil, love. Did you not know guns did that?"

Rogue: "...no..."

Spy:

Although she and Spy certainly took the longest to warm up to each other, the two are as close as can be now. Once they finally accepted each other, Spy took her under his wing as his apprentice. He helps her perfect her thieving skills and educates her on how to take tough situations in stride. She really looks up to him, and they almost have a father-daughter relationship. And of course, when her depression comes to light, he's her biggest means of support. He's always available when she needs him and he does whatever he can for her.

Spy: "You make me so proud, mon cheri. You've captured the intel once again, our training has really paid off. Great job."

Rogue: "Thanks dad."

Spy: "Excuse me, what was that?"

Rogue: "....nothing."

Bonus!

Miss Pauling:

Miss Pauling is literally the first woman Rogue has ever been close to in her life. Throughout her entire childhood she's been surrounded by creepy older men, and even though things are different now with the mercs... they're still men. There are just some things Rogue isn't quite comfortable talking to them about. But with Miss Pauling, going to her for help with things like clothes shopping and feminine problems almost feels natural. Hell, there were so many things Rogue didn't even know about periods until Miss Pauling explained them to her. And of course Miss Pauling takes the time out of her busy work day as often as she can to make sure Rogue is stocked up on sanitary items, and whatever else she needs. Rogue is always extremely greatful for it. And while part of her sees Miss Pauling as sort of a mother figure...another part sort of has a crush on her. Yeah, Miss Pauling was pretty much Rogue's bisexual awakening. But she hasn't said anything about it, one because it would just be awkward and two because she knows Scout also likes her, and she doesn't wanna stand in his way (but little does either of them know, Miss Pauling is a lesbian 👀)

Miss Pauling: "Rogue, honey, you don't even know what a pad is? Or a tampon??? What- what do you do when you get your period?"

Rogue: "What, you mean that weird time of the month that I start bleeding? I just... live with it I guess? Maybe put toilet paper in my panties if it gets too messy-"

Miss Pauling: "Rogue. Come with me, I'll get you stocked up on the things you need. And we'll get you some new panties too."

Rogue: "But don't you have things to do?"

Miss Pauling: "This is more important. You shouldn't have to suffer every month just because no one ever properly taught you about periods. I'll help you out."

Saxton Hale:

Rogue thought he was obnoxious upon first meeting him. Called him a "corporate clown" to the other mercs. But, she had to earn his approval in order to join the team, so Miss Pauling insisted that she be on her best behavior around him. But, even when on her best behavior her spunkiness still shined through, and Saxton noticed it real quick. However, that spunkiness only raised his interest. He commented on how he, "Hadn't met such a scrappy sheila in a long time." Truth be told, she reminded him a lot of Maggie, but he wasn't about to mention it. During their one on one meeting, he demanded that she punch him in the face to test her strength. After a short hesitation, she did so. Saxton was impressed that she actually hit him hard enough to dislocate his jaw and bust his lip, and gave her the job on the spot with the promise that she keep up that energy (and learn to use some weapons, of course). Miss Pauling and the mercs were shocked to see the two of them come back with Saxton's arm slung around Rogue's shoulders and his face dripping with blood, and the two of them laughing with each other. She took back what she said about him being a corporate clown. Although, the only thing she still doesn't like about him is how he treats Miss Pauling, considering how close she is with her. She has a mind to call him out on it, but Miss Pauling begs her not to.

Saxton: "Let's see just how strong a little gal like you can really be. Go on, hit me RIGHT here! Hard as ya can!"

Rogue: "Uh...Mr. Hale, I really don't-"

Saxton: "Oh don't wuss out on me girly, you want this job or not?!"

Crack.

Rogue: "Oh my god- Mr. Hale! I am so-"

Saxton: "Now that's what I'm talking about! You pack a hard punch for such a cute little thing!"

Rogue: "You're bleeding..."

Saxton: "Consider yourself hired!"

Administrator:

Doesn't trust her. Not one bit. She only respects her because she has to, and even then her "respect" is so shallow that anyone could see right through it. She hates the way she berates, overworks, and oftentimes gaslights Miss Pauling, and the fact that even all the other mercs seem to be intimidated by her concerns her greatly. She knows something's going on with her behind the scenes, and she's determined to figure out what. In the few times she actually saw her in person, Rogue definitely smarted off to her more than once, despite Miss Pauling practically begging her to watch it. The Administrator, however, almost finds it adorable. Almost. She kind of views Rogue as a bratty child. A bratty child with skill and talent that is essential for her team. And for that, she lets the sassiness slide...for now. Luckily these two don't butt heads often though, considering the Administrator is rarely seen.

Administrator, over the loud loudspeaker: "Well done, let's see some more."

Rogue, mumbling: "Bite me..."

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kazenoshun · 3 years ago

Text

The 8 O’Clock Song: A Coco fanfic

Summary: Coco AU - It's been 10 years since Imelda Rivera was abandoned by her no-good husband and she banished music from her life. She's content to keep away from music for the rest of her life, but a chance encounter during a trip to Mexico City may turn that resolution on its head.

A/N: I have made an attempt to include some Spanish (mostly names) in this fic to mimic the style of the film, but I make no claim to being fluent in the language, so if you spot any problems, please let me know and I'll do my best to fix them.

Also, I'd like to thank @faceheightknifefight and another friend (who does not have a Tumblr account) for their help in editing this fic. They're awesome!

FF.net, AO3, DA

The streets of Mexico City were full of noise, smoke, and far too many people, and Imelda Rivera could hardly wait to get home to her family in small, quiet Santa Cecilia. She’d never been fond of the big city. If she’d had her way, she would already be on the train back home, arriving in time to wish her daughter, Coco, goodnight before bed, and no doubt scold her twin brothers, Oscar and Felipe for some mishap or other. Unfortunately, she hadn’t gotten her way all day.

She’d gotten up before dawn to catch a train to the city, in order to view a new shipment of leather, place her order, and discuss the possibility of buying a new machine for the shop. She was against the idea herself, but her brothers were convinced it would improve the quality, and quantity, of Rivera shoes so she’d agreed to at least gather some information. The salesman she’d met had yammered on long enough to make Imelda seriously consider not purchasing the new machine out of sheer spite. His poorly disguised distaste for women in the shoemaking profession had merely been the final nail in the coffin. Having thoroughly wasted her morning and the better part of her afternoon, she finally arrived at the tanner’s only to learn that the shipment of leather had been delayed and wouldn’t be available until the following morning. Had such a day occurred when Imelda was just beginning her career in shoemaking, she might have broken down crying. Which wasn’t to say that she didn’t want to cry now, but she hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of weeping over her problems since she started, and she wasn’t about to begin now.

If she could survive Coco’s childhood as a single parent, she could survive one day of setbacks.

Still, she did allow herself a small huff and a frown as she entered La Caléndula, the sleepy little restaurant the innkeeper had recommended for dinner. Not terribly charming of her, she knew, but she didn’t particularly care to be charming right now - especially knowing many men tended to view charm as an invitation. All she wanted was to order her dinner, eat, and return to the inn to close out her terrible day.

The man behind the bar was an older gentleman with more gray than black in his hair, in the few places it still grew, and a moustache that seemed to cover the entire lower half of his face. He took her order with quiet efficiency, and, after hearing he’d been recommended by the innkeeper, directed her to a small table in the corner where she would be able to eat in peace.

Imelda let out a sigh as she sank into her chair and off her feet. Between the salesman who couldn’t be bothered to offer a chair during his presentation, and walking what seemed to be half-way across the city to the tanner, her feet ached. She wore good shoes, of course. She’d made them herself. But even the best shoes couldn’t alway prevent the sort of ache that accompanied a day on one’s feet. As the ache in her feet faded, she found herself thinking of home and family. They would be sitting down to dinner themselves by now, possibly cooked by one of the twins, but more likely by Coco. The girl would be 14 soon, only a year away from her quinceañera, and was growing more self-sufficient by the day.

Needing something to take her mind off her long day, Imelda turned her thoughts to potential birthday gifts for Coco, a far more palatable idea than lost orders or snobby salesmen. A new pair of shoes was a given, of course, but perhaps it was time Coco had a new dress as well. She’d nearly outgrown her last Sunday dress. Should the new dress be pink, though? Or perhaps blue? Imelda could turn the unintended stay in the city into a chance to look for fabric and findings. Yes, that would be most productive, and save her a second trip. She would start looking in the morning.

Her concentration was broken by the sound of someone tuning a guitar.

Imelda’s eyes snapped open, though she wasn’t sure when she’d closed them, and she glared at the table with enough ferocity she almost felt it should crack under the pressure. Of course someone would be playing music here. It was a perfectly terrible ending to her perfectly terrible day. She ground her teeth and clenched her hands into fists to override the childish urge to stick her fingers in her ears. She had some dignity, after all.

It had been nearly 10 years. Nearly 10 years she’d gone since banning music from her life. 10 years of being laughed at, of enduring the mariachi following her around the market betting on who would get her to break, of scolding Coco again and again each time she caught her daughter singing or dancing. 10 long years of hating him, her no-good bum of a husband who’d left her alone with a child to raise and never come back. He’d chosen music over them, over her, so she would let him have it all.

Her eyes sought out the source of the sound unbidden, whether from morbid curiosity or to know who to avoid when she left, she wasn’t sure. When the server arrived with her food, she would pay and leave. She hated wasting money, but she couldn’t stand to listen to the guitar even one minute longer than she had to. There was a small stage along the wall opposite the bar, but it was empty. The night’s performer must have been preparing off-stage. The other restaurant patrons were unfazed by the guitar as they enjoyed their food and drinks, several of them conversing quietly together. All of them ignorant of the burning fury inside Imelda. The guitar tuning morphed into a proper song, a very familiar song, but the stage remained empty.

Imelda nearly sprang from her seat and marched out the door; good manners and fact she hadn’t paid yet aside, she didn’t want to stay and hear the song butchered like it always was. Like the mariachi back home always did, even though they knew the way it was supposed to be played, the way it had been played before he allowed it to be butchered after walking out of their lives. She redoubled her efforts to spot the musician, determined to stay as far away as possible when she left, only to freeze when she finally spotted him.

Him, her no-good husband, Héctor, sitting on a stool in the corner across hers holding a banged-up guitar in his arms, playing Poco Loco with a blank look on his face.

The plate of food being set down in front of her startled her badly enough that she jumped.

“Perdón, señora,” the server -not the bartender, but maybe his son? She didn’t have the focus to puzzle it out- said. He followed where she had been staring and grinned. “I see you’ve spotted José.”

“José?” She could only parrot the name, too shocked to turn and look again. Perhaps she’d been mistaken and the man only looked similar to Héctor from a distance. It had been a very long time since she last saw him, after all.

The server nodded. “That’s what we all call him around here, since no one knows his proper name, not even him.”

Imelda couldn’t even parrot this time as she relented and looked again. It was definitely Héctor over there, although she couldn’t recall ever seeing his face so empty. He wasn’t even smiling.

“He comes in here and plays from time to time,” the server continued, oblivious. “Doesn’t bother anyone, and the music’s good, so Tío lets him do it and even pays him a little if sales are up.”

Imelda finally found her voice. “How… Why doesn’t he know his own name?” The Héctor she’d known, or at least thought she’d known, had a ridiculously good memory and was always using it to his advantage.

The server sighed and leaned against the empty chair on the other side of the table. “I couldn’t tell you exactly what caused it, but José doesn’t remember anything from his past, or where he’s from. Whatever happened couldn’t have been pretty, though. A couple of drunks found him, back before I started working for Tío, somewhere around 10 years ago. Someone had tried to bury him in a shallow grave just outside of town. The drunks took him to the hospital, but I guess it took a while before he woke up. And when he did, he couldn’t remember a thing. Not his name, not his age, not even where he grew up.”

Imelda opened her mouth and closed it again. None of what the server was saying made sense.

“Tío says he thinks there must’ve been a fight. He says one of the doctors at the hospital thinks José was poisoned. And José didn’t have any travel papers or identification on him when the drunks found him, but he still had money in his pocket. I heard the police found a suitcase dumped in a ditch, but all the stuff inside was trashed and there was no name on the case.” The server sighed and shook his head. “I just want to know who would get into a fight with José. The man’s harmless.” He sniggered. “Well, unless you mention the song.”

Imelda turned back to the server and made a face. “The song?” This really was all too much to take in at once, and she was almost convinced she’d fallen asleep into a dream except for her aching feet still anchoring her firmly to reality.

The server nodded. “Sí. You know that fellow, Ernesto de la Cruz, who’s been making waves in music?”

Far better than I want to, Imelda thought. It had been Ernesto who had set out on the stupid tour with Héctor, and then returned nearly a year later to tell her she’d been abandoned. She tried to recall when Ernesto said they’d split, and found she couldn’t help but wonder if Ernesto had told her the complete truth. He’d been against her marriage to Héctor from the beginning, after all.

“Well,” the server continued, once again oblivious to Imelda’s inner turmoil. “If you so much as mention de la Cruz’s biggest hit--” he dropped his voice to a whisper “--Remember Me, in José’s hearing, he goes absolutely mad. Old señor Víctor had to hold him back from mauling a musician who dared suggest playing it. Didn’t play it, mind you, just suggested playing, and José went nuts. Señor Víctor’s practically a bear, and he was struggling to hold onto José that night. But, if you don’t mention the song, José’s the gentlest soul you’ll ever meet.”

That, at least, was more in line with the Héctor Imelda remembered.

The sound of Poco Loco continued to drift about the restaurant, and Imelda couldn’t decide if she wanted to scream or cry. “Nearly 10 years and he hasn’t been able to remember anything?” she finally asked. She did her best to keep her voice even.

The server shrugged, looking at her uneasily. “Nothing specific,” he said carefully. “Occasionally he’ll say or do something to make you think he almost had a memory, but then it’ll be gone before he can latch onto it. There’s definitely something there, but it’s almost like-- like he’d stuck on the other side of the door. A few vague ideas get through, his issue with the song, for one. He’ll drink anything you put in front of him, unless it’s tequíla. Put tequíla in front of him and he starts getting all antsy and saying he needs to go home. I asked where home was once, thought he might’ve remembered something. I swear he looked like he was about to cry, then he just kept saying he didn’t know, over and over, until he left for the night.”

Imelda felt some small part of her heart that she’d been ignoring for years clench in her chest. “That sounds terrible,” she managed. She tried to imagine what it would be like, if she somehow forgot home, forgot Coco, except for the faintest ideas. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

The server nodded. “Tio and I didn’t see him again for three days. He came back covered in dirt. Apparently, he went out to the place the drunks found him and partially buried himself to try and bring back memories. It didn’t work. Tio let him clean up in the guest room upstairs, and made him stay here a few days to recover. I got yelled at for getting him into that state to begin with.”

“Ay! Diego! Stop pestering the lady,” the bartender, who’d come out from behind the bar, called.

Diego grinned and stood up straight, nodding to Imelda. “Perdón again, señora, for chatting your ear off. It’s been a while since we’ve had a new-comer so sympathetic to José’s plight.” He pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her.

Imelda looked at him, confused.

“You’re weeping, señora,” Diego told her gently. He placed the kerchief on the table and walked away.

Imelda sat, unmoving, for a long minute, until the last notes of Poco Loco faded away and a new song started. Slowly, she raised a hand to her face and wiped half-heartedly at the tears that were indeed flowing down her cheeks. It’s shock, she thought, feeling oddly detached from her body. Shock was the only explanation she could think of for why she was still in her seat and not half-way back to the inn. Shock, and the fact she hadn’t paid yet. She’d been too distracted to pay before Diego walked away. Shaking herself, she grabbed her glass of water and took a gulp, trying to shift her brain back into motion but only succeeding in sending herself into a coughing fit when the last of it went down wrong. She fished her own kerchief out of her pocket and pressed it to her mouth to muffle the coughs and try to curb the tears now streaming down her face as she fought to breathe.

When she could breathe again, and had wiped her face clean, she stared down at her plate. She felt… empty. She’d always assumed her rage would be explosive if she ever saw Héctor again. And she’d certainly been furious when she first spotted him, ready to march out of the restaurant without even acknowledging his presence. But now…

It was as though listening to Diego’s tale had drained the rage right out of her. She couldn’t say she was happy, per se, or even sad. More than anything, she was confused. And hungry, her growling stomach reminded her. The food she’d ordered smelled delicious, and she wasn’t in the habit of letting good food go to waste. Besides, leaving without eating would gain her exactly the attention she would rather avoid. With that thought in mind, Imelda made herself begin to eat.

The food was undoubtedly good, but she barely tasted it. It felt like such a strange thing, that she’d banned music for so long and yet it quickly faded to the back of her awareness. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend she was at a bar back home a decade prior, waiting for Héctor to finish for the evening so they could return to their little house together.

Perhaps it was because, for the first time in a very long time, the songs were being played as she’d known them - no gaudy embellishments or implied wink and nudge from the musician. Just a simple, sincere guitar. Although Héctor wasn’t singing along, which was a bit odd, but she could only puzzle out one thing at a time.

Héctor’s letters had stopped five months or so after he left. At first she’d thought he’d absentmindedly forgotten to send the next letter, which happened on occasion. Then she’d guessed it had been lost in the mail, it wouldn’t have been the first time. But when one, and then two months passed with no word, she started to worry that something had happened. If she’d been on her own, she would have gone searching for him. But Coco had been not-quite four, and needed food and a roof over her head, so Imelda had stayed put and started to learn how to make shoes.

It had been another five months before she ran into Ernesto in the plaza and demanded to know where her husband was.

Ernesto had handed her a letter and Héctor’s wedding ring, said they’d been left behind when he and Héctor split several months prior, and left her standing there gaping in the middle of the plaza. All he’d told her about Héctor’s whereabouts was that he’d headed north to try and make a name for himself. He’d vanished into the crowd before she could ask anything else and hadn’t reappeared in Santa Cecilia since.

In the present, Imelda allowed herself another glance in Héctor’s direction.

His hair was even more unkempt than usual, and peppered with gray. Prematurely, she mused, as he was a year younger than her and only 31. He looked darker than she remembered, as though he’d somehow managed to find a way to stay out under the sun even more than he had in their youth. A multitude of lines and creases stretched across his face, and his eyes… Imelda had to close her own eyes and look away.

His eyes were the same warm brown they’d always been, but they seemed unnaturally empty of life. As though Héctor were no more than an oversized puppet.

His clothes -from what she had seen, she couldn’t look at those eyes again just yet- were starting to fray. He wasn’t wearing the suit she’d made him. Rather, a plain shirt and trousers that were too short for him, with a jacket that was starting to come apart at the shoulders. And he’d worn a hole through the side of his left shoe. He certainly didn’t look like a man who’d set out to find his fortune.

She couldn’t help but wonder at the timeline she was presented with. Between what Ernesto had told her years ago, and Diego’s account just now, it couldn’t have been more than a couple months from Héctor and Ernesto splitting to Héctor being found in a grave. But why he’d been back in the city so soon, when Ernesto had been so insistent that he’d traveled north, was something she couldn’t puzzle out.

And then there was Diego’s account of Héctor’s reaction to Remember Me. Ironically, perhaps, it was the only song of his she hadn’t heard before he left. She’d only ever caught snatches of the song from Coco’s room after her daughter was in bed. Ernesto had claimed that Héctor sold him his guitar and songs before heading north. If Coco knew Remember Me, then it was undoubtedly written by Héctor, not Ernesto, but why would that matter if the song had been sold?

On the other side of the restaurant, Héctor hit a sour note, and stopped in the middle of his song to glare at the offending string.

Imelda snorted as she watched. The guitar she’d given him was rarely out of tune. He likely wouldn’t have any issues now if he hadn’t sold it.

She froze with her fork half-way to her mouth, suddenly wishing she could slap herself for not thinking of that sooner.

If Héctor had gone north to seek fame, why had he sold Ernesto the guitar and all of his songs? Surely he would have needed songs to play, and something to play them on? Even if he decided the memories associated with the guitar were too much, he would have to be a fool to sell it without getting a replacement, doubly so to sell all his songs when he was just starting out. She could understand, on a practical level, selling the songs connected to her, to Coco, if he truly wanted to leave them behind. But that still left at least half his repertoire, full of songs she knew would have easily caught on with the right crowd- had caught on with Ernesto playing them.

The dinner she’d just eaten settled like a stone in her gut. Héctor’s letters had grown shorter the longer he was on the road, true, but the cutoff had been abrupt. There’d been mentions of fights with Ernesto, though he never went into detail. The early letters were often accompanied by songs and poems, but the last several had lacked those. Imelda swallowed uncomfortably and glanced at Héctor yet again- now back to playing, having fixed the issue with his strings. Something didn’t add up right, but the only one present who could tell her more didn’t remember enough to explain.

“Oh dear.” Diego was back, gesturing nervously at her plate. “Is something wrong with your dinner, señora?”

Imelda forced a smile on her face. “No. I’m afraid I just recalled something I really would rather have not remembered. The food was delicious.” Even so, she couldn’t make herself eat another bite.

Diego grinned, apparently reassured. “I see. I shall hope that you forget again very soon.” he glanced toward Héctor and his grin grew. “You’re in for a treat, señora. He hasn’t wandered off yet, and it’s nearly eight o’clock.”

Imelda felt as though she’d somehow missed part of the conversation. Then again, that seemed to be happening a lot this evening. “What happens at eight?”

Diego winked at her. “You’ll have to wait and see.” he wandered off again.

Imelda slumped in her seat, leaning her head in her hands and rubbing her temples. She really didn’t need more puzzles right now. The restaurant, she noticed, was growing quieter. The clink of dishes and bottles fading as other patrons turned toward Héctor’s corner. In the distance, she heard a bell begin to toll the hour.

Héctor stopped in the middle of his song, his eyes somehow more lively and more distant than before.

Imelda found herself leaning forward as the audience seemed to hold their collective breath.

Héctor closed his eyes and began to play. The opening notes were soft and gentle, not unlike the beginning of the song he’d written to propose to Imelda, although not that exact song either. Then he began to sing. “Remember me, though I have to say goodbye. Remember me, don’t let it make you cry…”

It was the same song Diego had said drove Héctor to fury, but not played the way Ernesto played it. The simple notes and gentle words reminded Imelda more of- of Coco, and the song she still sang to herself each night before bed.

“My song!” Coco had cried as a little girl, when Imelda tried to make her stop singing each night. “Papá said it’s my song!”

Hearing music, any music, tore at Imelda’s heart by then, but the anger and fear on her daughter’s face when told she had to stop was even worse. Imelda hadn’t slept that night, merely cried in her room until dawn and cursed Héctor for leaving. She hadn’t told Coco to stop again. Instead, she’d pretended not to hear the little voice each night. Coco, for her part, had confined her singing to that one song, sung quietly, alone in her room from then on. She almost always sang it at the same time.

Across the room, Héctor had opened his eyes to stare at a spot on the floor that looked no different from the rest. Except that, if Imelda thought back, it was roughly the same place Coco’s bed would have been were he back home singing her to sleep. She surely would have sung alone.

“...Know that I’m with you the only way that I can be.” Héctor’s voice caught on the words. “Until you’re in my arms again, remember me.” His eyes closed once more as the final notes faded into a silence that hung in the air. A moment later, he blinked, shook himself, and returned to his earlier playing. The restaurant patrons similarly returned to their conversations.

Imelda sat at her table, feeling a bit underwhelmed by the lack of response for Héctor’s performance. It felt like such a momentous thing -that he would sing a duet with his daughter, despite the distance between them and the fact that he supposedly had no memory of her- that surely deserved a round of applause at the very least. And yet, looking around the restaurant, it was as if the performance had never happened at all. Feeling more than a little light-headed, Imelda gathered up her glass and mostly cleaned plate, and made her way to the bar to pay.

“Was everything to your satisfaction?” the bartender asked.

Imelda nodded. “It was very good, thank you.” She handed over a fistfull of bills and coins, and waited for him to count out her change. While she waited, she glanced at Héctor. He still hadn’t noticed her. “Does he play here often?” she asked, nodding in Héctor’s direction.

The bartender sighed. “Often enough.” He handed over her change. “I used to figure he’d disappear one day. Thought it would mean he finally remembered where his home was, or someone came and found him. But after this many years, I’m not sure anymore that’ll happen. He’s a nice fellow, mild-mannered and all. Brings in extra business when he’s here.”

“Does-” Imelda paused, not quite certain she should ask “-does he play that song most nights?”

The bartender fixed her with a hard look. “Sí, he does. Try not to get any ideas, though.”

Imelda blinked at him, confused. Between him and Diego, confusing her was turning into a family trait.

He must have realized she didn’t know what he was talking about, because he continued. “We’ve had mariachi come through before who took his playing as an invitation to join in. Or they question him about it after the fact. He always ends up angry or confused. I know Diego thinks it’s sweet that he sings the same song every night, I can barely stand to hear it myself.” He sighed again, fixing his gaze on Héctor. “That man’s trapped in his own mind, and nothing any of us have done has helped. That song, that’s the closest he gets to breaking out. Hearing it each night is like hearing a cry for help you can’t answer.” Another patron at the bar waved for his attention. “Perdón, señora. Enjoy your evening.” Then he was gone, leaving Imelda with her thoughts.

She looked at Héctor one last time, still playing his guitar, and left the restaurant. She needed time to think, to try and sort out the truth from the lies, and the fresh air would help clear her mind. Or so she hoped.

Héctor’s music followed her back to the inn, continuing uninvited in her head long after she was out of hearing range. She doubted she’d get much rest. But then, she hadn’t slept much after he disappeared, either. Perhaps it was fitting that she stay up half the night after seeing him again. She dressed for sleep, put out the light, and lay in the bed staring at the ceiling. And she thought, and thought, and thought some more.

And when the dawn finally broke, she realized she had neither slept, nor puzzled out the answers to her questions.

Her husband had left on his trip 10 years ago, writing almost daily. His letters had grown shorter and less energetic as time went by, before cutting off abruptly several months into the tour. Some months later, nearly a year after leaving, his friend and partner, Ernesto, had returned to tell her she’d been abandoned. And somewhere in there, a group of drunks had found Héctor buried in a shallow grave on the brink of death.

Try as she might, Imelda couldn’t make all the pieces line up and fit together properly, there were simply too many gaps.

Ernesto might be able to fill in those gaps, were she to track him down and convince him to answer her questions. But that would take longer than she wanted, and she doubted he would answer her willingly, or truthfully. She’d known he was a liar when they were young, twisting or exaggerating tales so that they worked in his favor. Looking back, that was something she should have remembered that day in the plaza. And besides his lying nature, the gaps in the story were forming too easily into a theory she didn’t dare acknowledge just yet, but which she knew could take the man from hateful to dangerous.

No, Ernesto would not do for a source of answers, so she would have to look to Héctor. The bartender had said that attempts had been made to bring Héctor’s memories back, but nothing had worked. Then again, none of them had known Héctor before the memory loss; Imelda had grown up with him. She’d married him, lived with him, had a child with him. If she couldn’t spark his memories; well, that wasn’t worth dwelling on, she told herself as she dressed for the day. She would deal with that problem if it arose.

The city streets weren’t empty when she left her room in the inn, although they were far less crowded than they had been the day before.

Imelda kept her head high and her steps sure as she made her way back toward La Caléndula. The bartender would likely have questions for her before he would be willing to tell her where she might find Héctor. But she would swallow her pride and answer them truthfully, otherwise she didn’t know where she should even begin. When the bar came into view, however, she realized she wouldn’t need to ask.

Héctor sat on the step leading onto the porch of the restaurant, head tipped forward, and wearing a ratty straw hat that covered his face such that she couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep. His battered guitar was on the ground next to him, the neck tipped against his knees and held loosely in one hand. He looked like he had been sitting there all night. The restaurant door opened, and Imelda found herself ducking into a deep doorway. She wasn’t sure she wanted a witness to her potential failure.

Diego stepped out onto the porch, covering a yawn and holding a bucket and rag with one hand. He gently nudged Héctor, then walked to the windows and began wiping them down.

Imelda watched as Héctor stirred, reaching his arms above his head and stretching in a way she knew made his spine pop. He’d startled her doing that the first morning after their wedding, but it had become endearingly familiar over time. She waited a few more minutes, watching Diego try to strike up a conversation and Héctor murmuring half-replies while she debated whether or not to come back later. She could always stop in at the tanner’s first, to see if that shipment of leather had arrived yet, and come back once Diego was gone and Héctor was alone once more. Except she couldn’t be sure Héctor wouldn’t leave before she returned.

Taking a deep breath, she paused -to see that her braids were still properly in place and not because she was scared- and stepped from the doorway.

“Buenos días, señora,” Diego called when she drew near.

Imelda didn’t answer him, her eyes locked on Héctor. He looked up, and she felt her heart race in her chest. Her breath seemed caught in her throat, and her stomach was doing all sorts of interesting acrobatics. She felt, rather absurdly, like she had when she told him she was pregnant with Coco- as though her world had tipped on its axis and she hadn’t quite righted herself yet.

She hadn’t actually planned this far ahead. She’d been so preoccupied with looking for him that she hadn’t realized until now that she had no idea what to say. She swallowed, but her mouth remained dry.

Héctor hadn’t looked away.

Imelda took a breath. “Héctor-” her voice came out like a squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Héctor-” that was better, and she had his attention now “-do you know who I am?”

His face remained blank, and for a long, terrifying moment, she was afraid it wouldn’t work, that his memories were too far gone to ever recall. Then, almost painfully slowly, his expression changed. He scrunched his brows together and pursed his mouth the same way he had so many times before when trying to pull a song into being. And his eyes never left her face.

Imelda stayed standing before him with her hands clasped at her waist, vaguely aware of Diego calling for his tío. Her palms were sweaty, and she was gripping her hands so tightly she knew without looking her knuckles had gone white. But she didn’t dare move, she almost didn’t dare blink.

Héctor shifted on the step, knocking his hat off when he tangled his fingers in his hair and pressed the heels of his hands to his temples. The look on his face was quickly giving way from confusion to a combination of distress and pain; and Imelda was suddenly afraid she might have sent him into a state of panic if his memories failed to return.

“Hush,” she tried to comfort him, cautiously kneeling down and reaching to cover his hands with her own. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

The backs of his hands were dry against her sweaty palms, and quite warm. And his hair felt more brittle than she remembered.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and swayed back and forth, the world around them forgotten as his inner battle played across his face. Imelda rubbed gentle circles against his wrists, racking her brain for some way to calm him down. She’d grown quite skilled at handling crises in the past decade, raising her daughter as a single parent. But this wasn’t the sort of crisis she’d ever had to face before. Slowly, she became aware of Héctor humming to himself, a nervous, breathy sound that she soon recognized. The song he’d written to propose to her. It was quieter, more serious that Poco Loco, and undeniably hers. She didn’t recall him playing it the night before. Her voice was rusty as she joined him, humming instead of singing because the hurt she’d felt since he left was still there. She’d sworn off music when Ernesto told her she was abandoned, leaving it all for Héctor if he loved it so much more than her. But if it was the way to bring him back, then she could make an exception.

They reached the end of the song and started over from the beginning, Héctor’s voice growing stronger, and Imelda more sure of the notes. She leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes, focusing only on the sound of their voices blending together, sometimes the same, sometimes harmonizing.

“Imelda.”

His voice was so soft she almost didn’t realize he’d spoken. She drew back and opened her eyes.

Héctor was looking at her again with a fragile sort of hope in his eyes. “Imelda?” he said, his voice louder but shaking.

“Shh, I’m here,” she whispered, brushing away a tear that had begun to form in the corner of his eye. “I’m here.”

“Imelda,” he said again, this time sounding more sure of himself. He broke into a grin murmuring her name over and over. “Imelda, you’re Imelda. I remember. Imelda, I remember-” The words died in his throat, his happy grin sinking into a wide-eyed horror. “I forgot, Imelda,” he gasped. “I forgot you! How- I forgot Coco!” His voice broke on their daughter’s name. “No- How- I forgot!”

He’d begun to tremble, and all Imelda could think to do was pull him towards her. He came easily, practically collapsing into her arms as he continued to babble. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry! I promised to be home in six months and I forgot! I-I was planning to come home. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

Imelda was caught in an awkward half-crouch while he clung to her, but she pushed the discomfort aside and brought one hand up to cradle his head, and gently ran the other up and down his spine. His face was buried against her shoulder, her dress growing wet with tears. He was still shaking, too, and he felt much too thin now that she was holding him. “Shh,” she murmured again, stroking his hair. “Shh. I’m here. It’s going to be alright.”

It was, perhaps, a foolish promise. There were still so many questions to be asked. Diego and the bartender were both standing a short distance away with matching expressions of concern, and she was sure they would want to know why it had taken so long for her to find Héctor, and why she hadn’t gone to him the night before. There would be letters to write to Coco and the twins. Letters saying who she had found, and explaining that she would be delayed coming home. She had no intention to leave Mexico City until she understood what had happened to Héctor to lock his memories away for so long.

But her most burning question had been answered. He’d wanted to come home. He’d planned to come home, and been prevented. Coco was right; he’d never abandoned them. It was enough, for now, to build on. She couldn’t say exactly what would happen in the long run. If they’d ever be able to return to even a semblance of what had been, or if their relationship would be forever broken. But they could worry about that later.

“I’m sorry,” Héctor whispered again. “I’m sorry for forgetting.”

Imelda hugged him tighter. “You’ve remembered now,” she countered.

“Sí,” Héctor agreed after a long silence. “I remember.”

#Coco #pixar coco #imelda rivera #héctor rivera #imector #AU #my fanfics

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rushingheadlong · 4 years ago

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POP IN THE SUPERMARKET

Conveyer rock - is it all a hype? Colin Irwin looks at pre-packed pop and talks to the men behind new bands Queen (left) and Merlin

Hype. An ugly, unpleasant word frequently recurring in rock circles.

Up in the boardroom of a vast record company the fat cigar brigade are scratching heads. Binn and Batman have come up with another surefire hit and they want somebody fresh to market it. They ponder a few names and finally decide on one with slight but clear sexual connotations - suggestively camp.

Name settled, they work on the people who will be in this new band. They might be able to find a ready-made group to fit the bill but better to mould their own. There's a singer who has been around for a few years.

He's not great but he knows how to throw himself around a stage, has a hairy chest and can hit the high notes. Give him a new name and he'll do. Somebody knows a lead guitarist who can play a bit and looks good. They can advertise for the others.

They'll work out a sensational stage act, rig them up in some flash gear, buy them the best equipment and arrange a string of appearances in some influential venues. Plunge a few thousand quid in launching them with advertising and posters and "They'll be the biggest thing since sliced bread," chief fat cigar tells his underlings.

Session musicians are employed to record the single and being a Binn and Batman special the radio stations label it "chart bound" and play it twenty five times a day. Seeing the glossy photos in the bop mags the kids gather up their pennies and buy it.

VOILA, stars are born - or manufactured. An extreme form of hype.

There's also a cliché commonly used in the business about people who have been around for many years and finally make it. It's called talent-will-out. An idealist phrase but there is still a popular belief that if a band is truly talented enough it will win through in the end.

Yet even the greatest band in the world need a bit of pushing in the first place. When a record becomes a hit it's not always that easy to distinguish between hype and talent-will-out.

If a record company spends astronomical sums of money promoting a band, is it hype? Or is it a legitimate and necessary weapon in the music business? The argument is that the BBC's ever-tightening playlist and the effects on the industry of the three-day week have made it harder than ever for a new group to make it - talent or no. Without a big money machine behind it there isn't a hope.

The situation is illustrated by two energetic new bands, who both look like breaking.

Big money has been spent on Queen and Merlin, who have had new singles released during the last month.

Queen's record, "Seven Seas Of Rhye," is already moving swiftly up the chart, while Merlin's "Let Me Put My Spell On You," is doing well enough to suggest it might follow suit.

There is no suggestion that either band is a manufactured or manipulated product in the sense of the Monkees. They play the music on their own records entirely themselves and they are both hard at work on the road.

Yet the question arises as to whether they would be doing quite so well without the resources of big companies behind them.

In the case of Queen it's Trident Audio Productions and EMI and for Merlin it's Cookaway Productions and CBS.

The one common factor is that money and backing has been provided because the companies have a solid, unshakeable belief in the artists they are promoting. They are indignant about any suggestion of a put-on or that there has been any attempt to con the public.

Listen to Merlin's producer Roger Greenaway for half-an-hour and there is no doubting his faith in their ability. "They are going to break, I know they are. I'm convinced the record will be a hit."

Nobody's saying exactly how much it has cost to launch either band. "Over a period of months between £5,000 and £10,000" has been spent on marketing Queen by EMI while the figure for Merlin is even vaguer. "A bit, but not a vast amount. Not a fortune by any means."

"Seven Seas Of Rhye" is Queen's second single and was recorded as part of the album "Queen 2" which has just been released. Things started to move for them about a year ago when they recorded their first album for Trident, who have a distribution contract with EMI.

An advance was paid to them to help with the immediate costs of putting them on the road.

Review copies of the album - about 400 of them - were sent out to everyone who might conceivably have any influence on the record buying public, from discos to the national press. Copies were personally distributed to radio and TV producers and extensive advertising space was bought in the trade papers.

The launch for Queen was more concentrated than most artist are entitled to expect.

Trident were completely behind them from the start and found them their American producer Jack Nelson. EMI promotions men Ronnie Fowler and John Bagnall decided they had a product with an exceptional chance of success and they went all out to exploit it to the full.

Says Fowler: "Every record we release we work to a pattern of promotion. When I went round with the album it was normal procedure. It becomes un-normal when people start phoning you - that's when you put more effort into it."

Bagnall adds: "It became obvious after a week or so that it wasn't standard promotion that was necessary. We did a more complete promotion job than usual on Queen because we thought they were going to make it.

"They're all good-looking guys and I did a round of teeny papers and all the girls in the office swooned over them. Brian, the lead guitarist, had made his own guitar and a couple of the nationals picked up on that. It was good, gossipy stuff."

Queen's publicity machine was working from all angles because they were also getting external promotion from Tony Brainsby's promotion office.

He had been involved with them from the time they had been trying to get record producers interested. The intensity of it all paid off when they were invited to do a spot on the Old Grey Whistle Test. Radio Luxembourg latched upon the single "Keep Yourself Alive" and played it regularly.

Their first tour, supporting Mott the Hoople, got the full works. Local press was saturated with releases about this new band which was shortly coming to their town, elaborate displays were arranged at the front of the house on the night of the concert, local disc-jockeys were informed, and window displays were made in about 200 local record shops.

"Trident and EMI committed themselves right from the start to this band, to make sure they had a PA which was better than other bands had and to make sure they had the right clothes. Some of their outfits cost £150 each," said Bagnall. "Spending money on a band isn't hype. It wasn't being flash or extravagant for the sake of building an image. It was making sure that everything else was as good as their music."

Not so far removed from the attitude towards Merlin, although it has been on a smaller scale in this case.

The first Merlin tour, still underway, is rigorous. They are playing ballrooms and colleges all over the country on a lengthy round.

An ambitious project for a new, unknown band, but it has already been successful in that it has launched them as a name people now know. A full-page advertisement was bought in the MM. That's the sort of treatment you might get if you're Bowie, or Ferry, or even Mick Ronson. But Merlin?

They have only been in existence in their present form since last May.

They emerged as a result of discussions between Alan Love and Derek Chick about the possibility of forming a band with definite commercial appeal and a glamorous stage act. The idea reached fruition via a band called Madrigal, who had for some time been working the same circuit as Mud before "Crazy" broke for them.

Madrigal disbanded but reformed with the same drummer and bass player, and Love as singer and Chick as manager. A couple more young musicians were found to join them and Chick started the usual hustling to get them going.

In due course they came to the attention of Cookaway, and Roger Greenaway was hastily summoned to take a look at them. He had already seen Madrigal and when he saw the new model he immediately saw a big future for them.

Greenaway says: "I'd been looking for a group of this type for three years - a young under-20s group who can present a good act. There's a lot more showmanship attached to bands now. I wanted an act with a slightly different approach. I was in New York producing the Drifters and I came back especially to hear them."

He quickly took them into a studio to see how they reacted there and among the tracks they recorded was "Let Me Put My Spell On You" which had been written by Greenaway in collaboration with Tony Macaulay. Like Queen, the best equipment and some fancy costumes were bought for them and the launching process was put into operation.

My own experience of the Merlin project was a couple of weeks ago at Reading Top Rank - a bizarre mixture of precocious boppers, ageing teds, and stern-looking heavies.

Posters and pictures of the group were plastered all over the place and by the time they eventually appeared late in the evening you had been informed quite thoroughly that Merlin had made a record called "Let Me Put My Spell On You."

Greenaway says of Love: "He's got star quality and he's a great charmer. The guitar player Jamie Moses has got a terrific potential too. I've worked with Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones but for me this guy at 18 is a better player than Jimmy Page was at the same age. He's the sort of player guys can follow - like Jet Harris - he had an incredible following with the guys."

He likens the Merlin launch to a military operation. The career of the group has been minutely planned since October. Accepting that it is almost impossible to get airplay for a new band on the BBC they decided the best way to break them was through a solid mass of live dates.

The dates were booked, once again the best equipment, including a light show, was bought for them, and distinctive stage costumes especially designed.

"By the time the tour has ended they will be a really tight band. We are getting support in the regions and you can break a record if you can get regional radio stations and disco plays. I believe this record is a hit and the signs are there. This is a ten-year job as far as I'm concerned."

Not that big money backing is any guarantee of success.

One of the biggest projects of this type was the launching of young Darren Burn as Britain's answer to Donny Osmond. To their eternal credit the record-buying public didn't apparently want an answer to Mr Osmond and the campaign failed.

The pop supermarket is not a new trend. The attractively packaged mass-produced record has been a part of the industry for a long time. The early releases of Love Affair, White Plains and Edison Lighthouse for example spring to mind.

The whole thing is justified for the makers by the fact that they still become hits, thus proving there is a demand for made-to-order records. If the public is willing - or gullible enough - to pay 50p for music created in the boardroom. Well it must be OK.

The Merlin single is blatantly, unashamedly aimed at being a big hit - that seems to have been the one criterion in making it. It has all the ingredients and as the whole thing has been done with concentrated professionalism it will probably be a hit.

Back to Roger Greenaway: "I don't want to present this as a Monkees type of image. It's not a manufactured group in any way - these guys have all been in other bands.

"What Merlin are about is success - reaching people. It's so wrong for opposing people to criticise. If Chinn and Chapman go out to reach a particular market at the thing they do best, and they reach them, then they're doing their job. They've filled a gap.

"When this record happens it'll be called hype but we haven't hyped anybody. Not a vast amount of money has been spent on them. It would be silly to have a tour like this without some sort of advertising. All the money that has been spent on them so far has been towards getting them on the road.

"It's expensive but it's minimal if you think of it as a along term thing."

It may be unfair to associate Queen with the pop supermarket. The group themselves were apprehensive about appearing on Top Of The Pops and the prospect of a hit record.

They have always regarded themselves as an album band and were concerned about being connected with the chart groups. The fact remains that they have been on the receiving end of a giant campaign to create a best-selling single and album.

The first album had sold far better than they had anticipated and there was great excitement around Trident and EMI as the second one was being made. Manager Jack Nelson came in virtually every day to play new tracks as they were completed and many discussions followed on which one should be released as a single.

A special meeting was held between Bagnall, Fowler, marketing manager Paul Watts and a few others to discuss the approach to the release of "Queen 2."

"We talked about the possibility of boxing the album, and other various publicity and posters needed to produce an album we were convinced was going to be one of the biggest of the year. We set a high target for it. 'Seven Seas' isn't a housewives' record so with the daily shows like Edmonds, Blackburn and Hamilton, there's no chance of getting it played, we knew that from the start. But the weekend shows - Rosko, Henry, and D.L.T. - they all flipped over it. I took the records round personally because I felt so strongly about it."

The prime plug, however, is Top Of The Pops. If a record gets exposure on that there is a more than even chance that it will become a hit. He played it to the show's Robin Nash and a couple of days later Nash phoned him and asked him where Queen were. Later he rang back and invited Queen to do a session.

The band weren't too sure whether they wanted to do it but eventually agreed although even then they didn't know until the last minute whether it would be used because they were half expecting a David Bowie film to arrive and take it's place. But in the end Queen were shown and "Seven Seas Of Rhye" moved dramatically from there.

"A lot of people have invested an awful lot of time and money in this band but not as a hype," says Bagnall. "The only truth in the music business is that if a band isn't good, no amount of money will get them to make it."

Greenaway may be right that Merlin are one of the most exciting bands to merge since the Beatles. Fowler might be right that Queen are one of the best since the Who. But big business still remains one of the sadder aspects of the music industry today.

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Huge thanks to the anon who brought this to my attention, since I’ve been looking for a copy of this article for ages now!

Credit for the original scans goes to @Chrised90751298 over on twitter, though I stitched it back together into a single image for ease of posting over there. Open the image in a new tab to see the full-size version!

#queen band #queen #queenband #merlin band #long post //#text

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hlupdate · 4 years ago

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In a never-before-published 2012 interview, Harry Styles and Niall Horan talk about their childhoods, the future of One Direction, and much more

In the spring of 2012, I spent a few entertaining days hanging out with the five young members of a British boy band who were just breaking big in the United States. The guys from One Direction were unjaded, unguarded, totally charming, and a puppy pile of optimism and energy. On April 8th, in a New York City hotel room, an 18-year-old Harry Styles and 16-year-old Niall Horan sat down with me for a joint interview, published here for the first time. (The reporting was intended for a Rolling Stone cover story that never ran.)

It was late morning, and they had both just rolled out of bed. Styles wore a hotel bathrobe; Horan, with braces still on his teeth, was in sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a Dallas Mavericks hat a fan had given him during a recent trip to Texas. The conversation was casual, full of laughs, and focused on their formative years.

What did you do at the gym last night? Harry: One of our security guys, his friend’s over, he’s a personal trainer, so I was working with him, and he ripped me to shreds.

In 12 hours, you have to do Saturday Night Live. Are you ready? Harry: Yeah, I think so. I think it’s going to be a fun day. It’s just really exciting, obviously. The show is so huge. For us to get the opportunity to be on it at all was just amazing, and to us, to be performing and just be involved with the show is amazing.

Have you seen whole episodes of it? Harry: I’ve watched a lot of clips on YouTube. They don’t show it in the U.K.

Growing up, when did you realize you could sing or that you wanted to sing? Harry: I sang in primary school, like the school productions, plays and stuff.

What was your first one? Harry: The first one was…I was five, and there was a story about a mouse who lived in a church, and I was Barney, the mouse. I had to wear my sister’s tights, and a headband with ears on it, and I had to sing a song all by myself. I remember it was just like, whatever…in the second, I was Buzz Lightyear in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, so you know when they run and hide in the toy shop? Buzz Lightyear was in the toy shop, so they just created my character. The last one, I was in…you know Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat? I was the pharaoh, but I was an Elvis pharaoh.

Did you have a sense that this is what you wanted to do in your life? Harry: I think in school, I was OK, I wasn’t a bad student. I think I just knew I wanted to entertain people and stuff. I was a bit of an attention-seeker at school.

Niall: Me, too. I just talked too much, sang too much.

You were onstage as a kid and were like, “This is what I like”? Harry: I knew it was fun, I had a lot of fun doing it, and I stopped when I started high school, and then I didn’t really do anything, I just sang at home, in the shower, in your bedroom, that type of thing. I guess it started again when my friends were in a band and they wanted to do this battle of the bands competition that was at school, and they needed a singer, and one of my friends asked me.

What did you sing? Harry: We sang “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” by Jet, and “Summer of ’69.” We did it more towards the Bowling For Soup version.

How about you, Niall? Niall: I always knew I wanted to sing. I was academic…I was one of those people that if I’m not interested in something, I don’t really care. If I’m not interested in school, I would have never trained or done my homework or anything, I’d have just gone outside and played football or whatever.

Harry: [helpfully translating] Soccer.

Niall: So I always wanted to sing. I was singing here and there, not gigs or anything, but I always sang around the house or whatever, and I played Oliver in a school play. And then I just did that, and people told me I should do something…I was only 10, what could I do at 10? I just did a couple of gigs, and when I got to high school, they told me that I should just try out for The X-Factor.

Who told you? Niall: My French teacher. We used to do talent shows and stuff at school, she was like, “You should do it,” so I did it.

What did that entail? What were the steps from being a kid in high school to getting on the show? Niall: It was the final of The X-Factor the year before, and at the end credits of the final, it says, “If you want to apply for 2010, go online,” so a couple of weeks later, I said, “Right, I’m going to do it,” and I filled in the form online, we were sending emails back and forth, going to this place at this time. The first one is at a big stadium, then if you get through that, you come back the next day. Is that the way they did it with you?

Harry: I had to wait a little bit, I think.

Niall: I was there at five a.m., I got seen at 12, and I was out of there by quarter past 12, and the next day I came back at 10 in the morning. You get through the first round, then they do a round where they don’t tell you if you got through after that.

Harry: They film it.

Niall: The producer and someone from the label. They film it and show it to whoever. Then if you got through that, it takes about two or three weeks until you find out. I was in Spain. Then you just go through the audition.

Harry, how did you wind up on X-Factor? Harry: I basically said, the same as Niall, I was watching the year before, and I remember looking at the young guys on there, and I was kind of like, “I’d love to have a go at it just to see what happens,” and that was kind of it. My mum actually did the application, and then three weeks later, I walked upstairs and she said, “Oh, you’ve got your X-Factor audition Sunday,” and I was like, “OK.”

Niall: In England, it’s the biggest thing ever. It took a while to build.

Harry: The two or three years were steady, and third or fourth, it just blew up.

Niall: It works that one in three people in the UK watch it. There’s 60 million people in the UK, and 21 million people watched the final the year we were in it.

Harry, your band also played at least one wedding right? Harry: Yeah. We actually said that we’d do the wedding gig, and…

Niall: You get paid for it?

Harry: Yeah. 160 quid, between all four of us. 40 quid each…we said we’d do it, and then we found out it was the weekend coming up, and we hadn’t done anything for it, so we asked the bride what kind of stuff she wanted, and she said she didn’t mind, but she wanted some Bob Marley songs. Literally in three days, not even three, probably two days, we learned like 25 songs. We might have known like three of them before. I was 16, maybe 15, singing these Bob Marley songs. There was a girl a couple of years below us, and it was her mum, she said she wanted us to play.

Niall: Can you imagine you’re at a wedding and you have 16-year-old kids up on the stage?

Maybe you were really good! Harry: Yeah, the drummer is one of my best friends from school, he’s a sick drummer, he’s so good.

Did you think the band could be something? Harry: A bit. My friend’s mum was a radio presenter, and she did a radio show for a bit, so she was trying to sort us out a little bit of studio time, we were going to go in and record.

What do your parents do? Harry: My mum is a PA. My dad is a financial adviser.

How about you? Niall: My dad works at a supermarket, he’s the head manager, general manager of an area, not just one, and my mum is unemployed now, so I try to help them out whenever I can.

You probably can. That must be nice. Niall: Yeah, it’s nice, it’s good.

Plus, now you can tell them what to do. Harry: [laughs] “Now you go to bed.”

Were you happy as kids? Did you have adolescent angst and stuff? Did you go through depressed periods? Harry: Not really. I think at one point, I started acting like I was…I had a phase of listening to really heavy music.

Niall: I never went through that.

Harry: Not stupid heavy, but a bit… just because I thought it was cool.

Like what? Harry: Like Nirvana T-shirts, wore black all the time, pretty much.

Were you pretty happy go-lucky? Niall: Yeah, I was always happy. I think me and Harry were lucky. Our parents got divorced quite early, didn’t they, when we were really young. I was four, I didn’t know much, so I was always a happy kid, always up for a laugh, very carefree, and I’m a bit like that now.

Did you both grow up in your moms’ houses? Harry: Yeah.

Niall: I went between both, my mum moved to the country and I didn’t have any interest in it. I always felt like the country is for when you’re older. I was with my mom for a while but got bored, all my friends were in town, I went to school in town and all that stuff. It was more like that.

Harry: I lived with both parents, and then moved with my mum, and we owned a pub for like five years. I remember the first night, it was like a night where a band was playing, and I just thought, “How am I going to get to sleep?” I was three stories up, I was like, “How am I going to get to sleep with this noise?” I was next to a road in Sussex in the middle of nowhere, and by the end, I could fall asleep next to the band, I was so used to the noise.

Was it imprinting your brain? Harry: Maybe. One of the guys who used to play every so often, he used to be in Deep Purple or something… He started teaching me guitar when I was like 10, I think 10, maybe nine. I loved it. I was 10, 11, all of the regulars, I got on with them. I’d walk behind the bar and my head would barely go over the bar. It’s still going now. We sold it to my best friend, we go in all the time still.

People say you come off as more mature than your age, you come off wiser. Did hanging around all those people as a kid help you mature?

Harry: I don’t know, maybe. I moved when I was seven or eight from Cheshire, and it was still Cheshire, but half an hour away, but in terms of not driving and stuff, all my friends lived near my school, so that was a bit further out. One of my friends there was my sister’s age, he was 16 when I was 10. It was so tiny, they were the only teenage boys…we’d ride our bikes and go to the driving range and stuff. It was good, it was fun.

You both wanted to entertain – if it hadn’t worked out, would you have been really unhappy? Harry: Yeah, I think it would be kind of like…one of the reasons you go for X-Factor in the first place is that you want to do this, and it kind of helps you get out of the life that you were doing before. I worked in a bakery for two years. Obviously, I didn’t want to do that for ages!

If you’d asked people at school, would they have said, “Yeah, they’re probably going to be famous,” or would they never have guessed that? Niall: My aunt, I was in the back of her car. We used to go across Ireland to go to the beach for a couple of weeks, and I remember we were in the car, I was singing, and she thought I was the radio, and she told me, I never forgot it, that she thought I was going to be famous since I was six, seven. She was the only person who told me that, so I always remembered that.

Harry: My dad said it. I used to listen to a lot of the music he was playing, he’d play Elvis Presley to death, the Stones, I’d sing along to that and he’d say, “You’re going to be famous,” or whatever. He came on tour with us for a few days out here, he came to the Radio City show. He just said, for him, it was so educational. Obviously, he hears about what happens when I call him, but to see it and see it actually happen and how everything works was so good for him, he really enjoyed it. So that was nice.

So you grew up on Elvis and the Stones? Harry: Yeah, pretty much. My dad was a massive Stones fan, so it was pretty much Beatles and Stones in terms of what my dad played.

People say you kind of look like Mick.

Niall: He gets that a lot.

Harry: I get it more here, probably, than I do at home. It’s because of the British thing.

What have you learned about life from the last few years, what didn’t you know? What advice would you give yourself? Niall: How much more independent we actually are – me, anyway. Your mum attends to your every need and does your food and washing and gives you somewhere to live. Then you go into the real world, as you’re told as a kid…

Harry: We’re living on our own now.

Niall: We just started living on our own in the last six months, really.

Harry: I’m moving when I get back.

Niall: We do our own washing, we make our own food, we rent places, we’re out on our own now. You mature so quick, you’re dealing with big businessmen every day, you’re not dealing with school, people your own age. It’s a bit different.

Harry: You seem to learn so many life lessons, but in such a short space of time. If I speak to my friends and they’re having problems with girls, whatever it is, now I seem to just have the answer. I don’t know, it’s just different. Or I think I have the answer. In terms of…one of my friends was trying to decide what to do with school, stuff like that, and I would have had no idea what to say to him before.

The last two years must feel like 10. Harry: Yeah, but at the same time, it feels like six months, it’s weird. X-Factor was two years ago, but it seems like five years ago, but at the same time, it’s gone so quick. It’s a really strange dynamic of how it feels.

Do you have a sense of how this is going to go? Does it matter if it’s two years, five years or forever? Harry: I think how much we all enjoy it, because we love what we do – if you have to call it a job, it’s an incredible job to have, and we love it. We’ll all want to do it for as long as possible. If we have the opportunity to have a Take That kind of career, I don’t see any reason why we wouldn’t want to do that. If we don’t, I don’t know…we’ve done some amazing things already, but we don’t want to stop there, we want to keep going. I guess if we didn’t, I think we’d probably want to still be involved in…I’d just write, I guess.

Do you want to act? It feels like you could have your own TV show. Harry: I think it would be more of a documentary, because obviously, we’re not actors.

People must want you to try. Niall: Watch tonight, tell us what you think. Watch SNL.

Will you all make solo albums? Is that inevitable? Harry: No, I don’t think so.

Niall: Let’s do a swing album!

Harry: [laughs] We’ll all do swing albums. We’re just so focused on this, we all feel so lucky just to be part of this opportunity that we’ve all been given, it’s incredible, we’re just loving it. It’s sick.

People make a lot of assumptions about people in your position. They think you’re puppets and do what you’re told. What do you do when people make those assumptions? Harry: When you look from the outside, especially if you’re a skeptic of groups made through TV shows, which is fair enough, people don’t see what we do on a daily basis, people don’t see…I think from the outside, it looks so glamorous, they see us do TV performances every now and again, see us doing an interview every now and again, but they don’t know that we work seven days a week.

Niall: If there was eight days, we’d fit it in.

Harry: It’s not as completely glamorous all the time, of course it’s not, it would be stupid to think that it would be, but it’s hard work.

Niall: You’ve got to remember that you’ve got people on your team that have been doing this for many years and have been through the mill. You have all that experience around you, even from our tour manager, who’s been doing this for 20 years, they know what’s right, but at the same time, we want to have creative control, because at the end of the day, it’s us stepping out onto the stage of SNL tonight and have to sing these songs. We want to be singing what we enjoy, as we said last night. The music we all listen to is what we try and blend together to make this One Direction sound.

Harry: We obviously want to make it authentic and have our say without going, “People say we don’t control it, so we need to take control.” We’re not…we haven’t been writing songs for 20 years, we’re not producers. We’ve got an incredible team around us. Luckily, we’ve been given a lot of freedom, so we don’t go, “OK, we just need more and more control,” because we have a lot of control already. I think we find a really good balance in the way we work with our record label and our management, and it’s just how we work together, I think.

In any case, it’s probably better than the bakery. Harry: Yeah. But I don’t get a nice bun on my break anymore, that’s the thing.

Did you wear an apron? Harry: Oh yeah, I wore a white polo shirt and a maroon apron with white stripes. “What would you like? 78 pence, thank you very much.”

Were you behind the counter? Harry: Yeah, I was behind the counter. It was good. It was Saturday morning, I started at five and finished at four in the afternoon and got like 30 quid, it was a joke.

Niall, did you have a job? Niall: No, never.

So this is your first job. Niall: Yeah, not bad at all. I was chilling, I was being a kid.

Harry: I had a paper route before that. It gave me a bad back, bad posture. It was a heavy bag.

I interviewed some fans downstairs, and asked if they knew who you were six months ago, and they all said yes, and a year ago…They were all early adopters, heard you from the Internet, watched X Factor on YouTube… Harry: It’s the internet. People have friends over here that might tell their friends and look on YouTube and show their friends. It’s insane how it’s blown up. We’ve had the opportunity to come over to America and do shows, and release our music over here, which is amazing. Through the power of social media, we already had a bit of a following before we’d ever been over here, we hadn’t done any shows. We had some fans out here, which was amazing, but weird, really strange. I don’t know, it’s gone crazy. We don’t really see loads of it. We do the shows, then we’re in hotels, then we fly somewhere else. We don’t see massive amounts of it, we just go with it. This whole thing has gone on, and it’s sick.

Do you ever feel anxious through all this? Harry: Yeah, I think, obviously, just naturally, you think about what’s going to happen in the future. We’re 18, 19, 20 years old, we’re young. I wouldn’t say anxious, we’re just excited most of the time, and having so much fun, that if stuff were to finish and you were to look back on your time and all you did the whole time throughout this amazing stuff was shitting yourself about what’s going to happen next, then it would just be…I think you have to enjoy it while it’s going on. I think you should be wary about the future, but not worrying about it all the time. We still enjoy it and have fun, but obviously, you do think, “What am I going to be doing in 20 years, 30 year?” I’ll have kids by then.

Harry, I saw a tabloid with pictures of everyone smiling, and you were looking thoughtful. Do you get down sometimes? While everyone else is having fun, do you start drifting off? Harry: No, I think I’m naturally…not everyone is happy all of the time. I think you always have times when…like when you’ve just landed off a really long flight or miss home or something. They got a picture of me where I wasn’t smiling. I usually smile, but they got one where I wasn’t smiling and used that, and then said I wasn’t happy. They did that for a few days, that’s when we were in L.A. last time. It goes with the morbid voice.

Ringo would say, “It’s just me face.” Niall: “Who’s that little old man?” [quoting Hard Day’s Night]

Harry: “That’s Paul’s grandfather. He’s very clean.”

Sometimes you can drift off, that’s just your thing. Harry: [laughs] I’m just soulful, man, I try.

Harry, do you mind when you’re singled out for attention? Harry: I don’t know. I don’t really…I don’t know. We’re a band. Everything we do is together. I don’t take much notice of it.

So you’re not the Justin. Harry: No.

Niall: J.C. was popular, too, wasn’t he?

It’s not like that for you guys. Harry: Not at all.

There was an imbalance in that group. Harry: I think we find it important that people get to know all of our individual personalities, because…

Niall: I think that’s what’s good about it, people see us as individuals as well as a band, we all have our own personality, and we all give something to a band. Previous bands, they go around and can never explain themselves, they can explain the band, but as individuals, what we bring to the band and stuff…

Harry: We all know that we all have our roles, and we all know that without one of us, it wouldn’t work.

#harry styles #niall horan #one direction #230720 #1d ten

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sassyduckqueen · 3 years ago

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Miraculous: Rise of Anatis 58

Alright! So chronologically speaking this is Pixelator's third akumation so I've made him a little more powerful, similar to how Stormy Weather's powers evolved. Anyway, that's this one done!! I'm very happy with how it turned out and I hope you all enjoy it too :D Next up is Love-Eater!

Also for anyone who's interested. Luka was using Psychometry via empathy which is how he was able to view how Vincent was akumatized. His empathy will be growing more and more throughout my season 4 and he will be learning a lot more about Hao Feng and others :D

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Chapter Fifty-Eight: Pixelator’s Photo Finish

"So how was therapy today?" Juleka asked as she walked with Luka from the building that Doctor Lang worked in. Luka looked pretty tired but gave her a small smile as they walked down the street.

"We were talking about my father issues and abandonment issues... and the akumas," He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. Hawkmoth had been sending akumas after him again. He seemed to be trying to be more crafty about it but it was obvious what their goal was. However, at this point he had just kind gotten use to it. Juleka nodded as they walked over to the ice cream cart. She had promised to get some with him after his therapy session. "I told her about you,"

"Oh?" She asked, looking over at him.

"I told her that you're amazing," He grinned, making her lightly punch him and call him a geek. He laughed a little as they came to a stop at Andre's ice cream and ordered two cones. Andre handed Juleka two scoops with sprinkles. One scoop was strawberry and the other was liqwish. The sprinkles were glittery. He turned to Luka next and gave him one scoop of blueberry and one scoop of strawberry with a flake. Luka smiled and took it before they paid him and walked off. They found a seat and sat down, looking over at the seine as they ate their ice creams. "Thanks for meeting me..."

"It's fine," Juleka mumbled, looking to the side shyly. "Besides, I managed to get out of class early for it,"

"Oh so that's why you agreed," Luka teased, grinning at Juleka who mumbled and lightly punched him again. "You are so mean to me,"

"Hey, you started it," She grinned before they both laughed and continued to eat their ice cream. They both sat in silence as Juleka sighed, causing Luka to look over at her. She was glancing down at her ice cream with a sad expression. He knocked his arm against hers lightly, making her look over at him. "I'm ok,"

"No, you're not," He replied, making her sigh. "Want to talk about it?"

"You just got out of a therapy session," She pointed out but he gave her a look. She sighed and looked over at the water. "I'm afraid..."

"Of what?" He asked, looking at her. She sighed and glanced down at her lap.

"Of losing you..." She mumbled, making him look at her. Tears filled her eyes. "It seems like you're always in danger right now. First, there was the akuma and the seizure then hawkmoth targeting you for ages. When it finally calmed down, you were almost kidnapped and then Lila went after you and then you were actually kidnapped, almost killed and that bastard got akumatized and tried to kill you... I was so afraid when Lady Noir told us you were in the hospital again and it was even worse when I saw you laying asleep in the bed. I knew you were asleep but I was so afraid you wouldn't wake up. And now the akumas are back and trying to hurt you. Luka, I d-don't want to lose you,"

"Jewel, I promise I am not going anywhere," He stated, wrapping his arms around her as tears slid down her cheeks. "You're stuck with me ok?"

She nodded and rested her head against his shoulder as he gently kissed the top of her head before softly humming as she slowly calmed down. She closed her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his waist, humming with him.

"I'm sorry..." She mumbled, looking up at him but he shook his head.

"Don't be," He replied, smiling softly at her. "And I'll be more careful. I promise,"

"It's not your fault..." Juleka mumbled as the two of them looked at the Seine. "Issac, Hawkmoth and Lila are the ones at fault,"

"Hmm, I guess you're right about that," He replied, gently smiling at her. Juleka nodded and leaned against him as he held her, gently rubbing her back as he did. She slowly looked up and wiped her eyes before sighing.

"I'm sorry," She mumbled, making him look at her.

"For what?" He asked, frowning a little.

"Crying on you," She mumbled, looking down ashamed. "I didn't mean to break down on you. You don't need it right now and I should handle my emotions better,"

"Hey, don't say that," He stated, holding her shoulders so she could look at him. "You're my little sister, Jewel and I don't care if I have to go through hell to help you. If you need my help, I'm gonna be there. If you just need me to listen while you rant then I'll do it. I don't care if I'm on the other side of the world... if you need me, I'll be there so don't think you have to bottle up your feelings, can't break down in front of me or talk to me. Just because I'm in therapy doesn't mean I can't listen to you. You're allowed to feel and all of this has been scary for you too. Your feelings are valid too, Jewel,"

"Thank you," She replied, hugging him. He wrapped his arms around her again. "I just don't want to add to your stress,"

"Not telling me when you need to will add to my stress," He whispered back, rubbing her back. "You know I won't pressure you to tell me everything but please don't think you can't tell me,"

She nodded, making him smile.

"Why don't we head home, get some snacks and watch a movie?" He suggested, making her smile a little before playing with her hands.

"A-Aren't you meeting Marinette tonight?" She replied, making him blush a little. She grinned at his reaction but he shook his head. "You're not?"

"There will be other times and she'll understand. Besides, I know she has some new projects for Dad and Clara," He replied, making Juleka look over at him. "Dad kept going on about it,"

Juleka giggled before getting up.

"Alright," She replied, making him look at her. "But I get to choose the movie,"

"Are you gonna torment me with a horror movie?" Luka asked as he took out his phone and texted Marinette, asking for a rain check. She texted back almost instantly, saying sure but asking if he was ok. He smiled a little and replied.

L: Yeah, I'm fine. It's actually Jewels. She's a bit upset atm. X

M: Oh, is she ok? I can bake her some cookies. Xx

L: She'll be alright. She was just upset with all that's been going on. I suggested a movie night with just the two of us. It's been a while and it usually cheers her up but cookies would be lovely :3 xx

M: Oh, poor juleka. She's lucky to a great brother like you :) tell her I'll bring some to school tomorrow and don't stay up too late! XD We'll hang out another day :D xx

L: I will :) thanks for understanding though. You're the best xxx

M: No worries, Lu 😊

L: Thanks again 😘

M: 😳😊

He chuckled at her reply before putting his phone away and catching up to Juleka. They headed to the shop first and brought some drinks, popcorn and chocolate before heading back to the Liberty

"So is Marinette ok with it?" She asked, making him nod.

"Yeah. She also said she'll have some cookies for you tomorrow at school," He smiled, making Juleka grin. Marinette's cookies are the best.

"So when are you gonna ask her out?" She asked, making him turn bright red and cough a little. She laughed at his reaction. "She's into you you know,"

"W-We're just friends," He gasped, looking to the side. He did want more with her but he also respected that she liked him as a friend. "Besides, she probably doesn't see me in that way and she probably still likes Adrien,"

"Adrien is with Kagami,"

"I know but she might still have a thing for him and is just trying to heal..." He muttered, looking to the side again. "Besides, she hasn't said anything about my confession..."

"Hold up, you confessed to Marinette?!"

"Well... yeah..."

"Well, what did you say? And when?"

"I said 'you're the most extraordinary girl. As clear as a music note and as sincere as a melody. You're the song that's been playing in my head since I met you'.... just before our performance on TVi," Luka replied, blushing as Juleka stopped and stared at him. "Was it too much? It was, wasn't it?"

"What? No, that was really romantic," Juleka gasped, making him blush a little. "But it might have been too complicated?"

"You mean I went overboard?" He asked, making her laugh and held up her fingers to show that maybe just a bit. "Urg I'm such a geek,"

"Don't worry about that," She stated, making him look at her. "Chics dig geeks,"

"Did you just quote avengers at me?" He asked as she grinned. He shook his head and laughed as they opened the gang plank and walked onto the Liberty. "So what's your advice, o worthy one?"

"Just ask her on a date and confess to her like a normal person," She replied, making him roll his eyes a little. She smirked as they headed downstairs. "We're watching Annabelle by the way,"

"Do we have to?"

"Hey, it's not my fault you're afraid of dolls,"

"I'm not afraid of dolls," Luka gasped as he started to make popcorn. "I'm just afraid of that doll,"

Juleka laughed and put in the DVD as Luka brought the popcorn over.

~A Few Days Later~

Marinette hummed as she walked to the park where she was meeting Luka. She had chose to wear a pink and white summer dress that she had made with her ballet pumps and her hair done in a plait instead of her usual style. She had brought some snacks with her too and a blanket. She didn't think it was a date but part of her hoped it was. They had been kind of dating without actually dating. She saw him and smiled before walking over. He was sat on a bench with his guitar, tuning it.

"Hey," She smiled, making him look up and smile before he put down the guitar and stood up.

"Hey," He smiled, hugging her. She hugged back before they pulled away. "You look lovely,"

"T-Thanks," She blushed, playing with her plait. "S-So I brought some snacks... maybe we could find somewhere to sit and relax,"

"Sounds like a good plan to me," He smiled, putting the guitar in it's case and placing it over his back before offering his arm. She giggled and took it before they walked off and found a nice area on the grass. Marinette removed her arm and took out the blanket before putting it on the ground and sitting down with the basket. Luka sat down and smiled as she passed him an eclair. "Thanks,"

"How's Juleka doing?" She asked as she took out a cookie for herself.

"She's doing ok," He replied, making her smile. "She's actually thinking about going for therapy herself but she hasn't made up her mind yet,"

"It's not a choice that should be taken lightly," Marinette stated, making him nod as he ate the eclair. "And how's it going with yours?"

"It's going ok actually," He smiled, grabbing a bottle of drink. "Dr Lang is pretty cool actually. She's been teaching me breathing exercises to help with the panic attacks and nightmares,"

"That's good," She smiled as he smiled back. She shuffled a little closer, making him blush a little. She giggled and leaned her head against his arm, making him smile before he cleared his throat, making her look at him.

"Y-You know how I said about you're the song in my head..." He mumbled, making her sit up straight. She looked a little worried, hoping he wasn't gonna take it back. "I m-mean it, Marinette. You're amazing and I l-"

"Luka Couffaine!!" A voice suddenly shouted, making both Marinette and Luka jump as a man with blonde and pink hair rushed over. He was wearing a Jagged Stone shirt, blue jeans and lace gloves. He completely ignored Marinette as he rushed over and stood in front of Luka. "Oh my god!! This is so cool!! I have a huge favor to ask you!!"

"W-Who are you?!" Luka gasped, leaning away from him. Marinette frowned and moved over.

"Hey! Can't you see we're busy here?!" She gasped, making him look at her before he gasped in surprise as well.

"And Marinette Dupain-Cheng!!" He gasped, making her look at him in surprise. "Oh my gosh!! You're Jagged Stone's designer!!! I have to have your autography too!! Oh, are you two on a date?! How amazing! Jagged's designer and his son on a date!!"

"Um-" Marinette gasped, feeling really uncomfortable. She noticed Luka looked the same. "We're busy. Let's head home, Lu,"

"R-Right," He replied in a quieter then usual voice. They quickly packed up the picnic and began to walk off but the newcomer followed them.

"Wait!! Can I get a photo of you? Oh and can you ask Jagged for an autograph and photo?!" He gasped, rushing after them. Marinette turned around and glared at him. "Please! I'm Vincent, his biggest fan and I just want a photo of him!!"

"Leave us alone!" Marinette hissed like a cat as Luka and her walked off quickly. Luka had heard about Vincent before. Jagged had told him the story about how he had tried to capture a photo and became an akuma. He also told Luka that he had a restraining order against him. However, Vincent got closer and actually grabbed Luka's arm, causing him to panic.

"Please, Luka! Your father is my idol!" He gasped, ignoring Marinette as Luka tried to pull away. She shouted at him to get off but he ignored her. "I need a photo with him!!"

"Back off!!" Marinette growled. Once again, he ignored her and moved closer to Luka, causing him to panic more. He managed to slip his hand into his pocket, causing Tikki to push the pepper spray into his hand as Marinette tried to pull Vincent away from him. "Hey!!"

"You have t- Aaahhh!!!" He screamed as Luka sprayed him with the pepper spray. He stumbled back and tripped, falling onto the ground as Luka took deep breathes and calmed down. "My eyes!!"

"Leave me and Marinette alone!" He stated, grabbing her hand and running back to the bakery with her. As soon as they got inside, Marinette dropped the basket and turned to him as he leaned against the door with his eyes closed, taking slow and calm breathes.

"Are you ok, Luka?" She asked, making him open his eyes and nod. She gently moved a bit of his hair as she looked at him with a gentle but concerned look. "Why don't we go to the balcony and finish our pinick there if you want?"

"I-I'd like that," He replied. She smiled and went to pick up the basket but he gently took her hand, making her look at him. "Are you ok?"

"Yes," She nodded, leaning up and gently kissing his cheek. He smiled a little before picking up the basket and helping her upstairs. The two of them climbed up to her room before making their way to her bed. Marinette climbed on top and reached for her skylight, opening it before pulling herself through it as Luka brought the basket over. He passed it to her, causing her to pull it up onto the balcony before he climbed up and grabbed onto the edge of the skylight, hoisting himself through it. Marinette was placing the food on the little table before she pulled the two chairs together. Luka smiled as she smiled at him before they sat down. She moved the blanket around them and leaned gently against Luka. Instantly, he felt calm now that they were sat on her balcony. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah..." He muttered, looking out to the sun. "I'm alright,"

~Hawkmoth's Lair~

"Another soul seeking out Luka Couffaine again?" Hawkmoth muttered to himself before smirking and holding out his hand as a butterfly flew over to him and landed on it. He covered it with his other hand, charging it up with his magic. He moved it and allowed it to fly off. "Fly away, my little akuma and akumatized him,"

The butterfly flew out of the window and into the city. A few minutes later, the connection opened, causing Hawkmoth to smile.

"Pixalator, I'm returning your powers to capture your idol forever," Hawkmoth declared as Vincent listened. "And in return-"

"I get the miraculous of Anatis and Lady Noir," He replied, making Hawkmoth smile. "I know the drill,"

"Yes, you do," Hawkmoth smirked, leaning on his cane. "But while that is part of the deal, I have something else I want... or should I say someone?"

"Go on,"

"I want you to capture and bring me a young man called Luka Couffaine," He replied, making Vincent gasp in surprise. "I believe you're familiar with him,"

"Jagged Stone's son?!" He gasped. "Do you want his designer as well?"

"Hmm... no, the girl is useless to me. Just bring me Couffaine and miraculous," He ordered, smirking. "Do we have a deal, Pixelator?"

"Let the photo shoot begin, Hawkmoth..."

~Back to Marinette and Luka~

The two of them climbed back down into her room after spending a good half an hour. They decided to head back into her room and were just chilling on her chaise lounge as she taught Luka to sew. He had his tongue stuck out and was focusing on the task. She smiled a little as she watched him before gently poking his arm, causing him to look up at her.

"What were you gonna say before that guy turned up?" She asked as he put down the material he was practicing on.

"I was going to say that I a- what the hell?" He gasped as he looked at her photos with fear in his eyes. Marinette gasped and turned around as something stepped out of one of her photos. he two of them stared in shock as Pixelator grinned at them in a creepy manner before pointing to his lens.

"Smile for the camera!" He declared, firing at them. Luckily, the two of them had already jumped up and out of the way. "Hold still, my pretty subjects! I only want a picture!!"

He jumped over and grabbed Marinette, throwing her out of the way.

"A little moth wants a word with you, boy," He smirked, cornering Luka in the corner. His eyes widen in fear and shock as he went to grab Luka's arm. "Now come wi- Ahhh!!!"

Marinette yanked a spare flour sack over him that she had in her room. She was planning to use it for an art project but it made for the perfect distraction. She grabbed Luka's hand as Pixelator tried to escape from it and pulled him over to the trap door. She opened it and pushed him towards the exit, causing him to climb down into the hallway as she followed. However, Pixelator ripped the sack in parts and shot at her, causing her to disappear in a bright light.

"Marinette!" Luka gasped as Pixelator jumped down, smirking. "What do you want?!"

"Me? I just want to immortalize Jagged Stone forever but Hawkmoth wishes to talk to you," He declared, roughly grabbing Luka's arm and began to drag him back up towards Marinette's room. Luka looked confused and horrified. "I think you sparked his interest. I'm not surprise that you're special. Just like your father! Oh, I could immortalize you as well!"

"W-Wait but Hawkmoth knows it was just ep-epilepsy!" Luka gasped, trying to get out of his grip as panic began to fill his mind. "He said he would leave me alone!"

"That was before the incident with Mob Boss," Pixelator replied but he had the purple mask over his eyes. "Once is chance, twice is coincidence but three times is a pattern and I have akumatized an epileptic before, Mr Couffaine. No one reacted the way you did,"

"I counted twice, Hawkmoth," Luka pointed out, making him chuckle.

"Two akumas and an amok," He replied, glaring at him. "I count three and I highly doubt that you're epileptic. I think Anatis is covering up something about you and I will find out what it is!"

Luka had to take a deep breathe to calm himself down as Pixelator continued to pull him back into the room and towards a photo. He glanced around, trying to work out how to break free but nothing lit up, making him feel more panicked. However, his luck vision kicked in when he looked towards Marinette's mirror, highlighting himself. He blinked with slight confusion. What could he do? He was just Luka and Luka didn't have any super powers... but he did have nature magic. Once he remembered that, it became clear of what he needed to do. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, causing Pixelator to stop and look at him.

"What are you doing?" He asked. Luka wasn't sure if it was the akuma or Hawkmoth but frankly he didn't care.

"Trying to stop myself from having a panic attack," He replied, keeping his eyes closed as he spoke calmly. "Unfortunately, I have them thanks to the actions of my asshole of a stepfather. Been kidnapped and beaten up will do that for you,"

"Well, that makes sense! It was a traumatic event," Well, it looks like Pixelator r is back in control. "But don't worry! Once Hawkmoth has talked to you, I'll immor-"

Luka suddenly slammed his hand on Pixelator's arm and projected his panic onto him, causing him to yell out and letting go. It wasn't the same level as he did to Issac but it was enough to shock the akuma and possibly cause a backlash onto Hawkmoth. Seeing his chance, he ripped his arm free and scaled the platform that led to Marinette's bed before hoisting himself up to the balcony. He slammed the skylight closed and locked it before moving the table over it. The table jumped slightly as Pixelator tried to break through the skylight. Luka rushed over to the edge and climbed over it, moving over to the edge and towards the brick wall. He ducked behind it as a bright light appeared. Tikki looked up at him, causing him to place his finger to his lip as Pixelator climbed onto the balcony. He growled when he couldn't see Luka.

"He's not here, Hawkmoth," He stated, glancing around. "He must have escaped,"

Luka peeked around the edge a little as Pixelator stood still with a purple mask over his eyes. Hawkmoth was talking to him and though Luka couldn't hear it, he could guess what he was saying. Find him and bring him to me.

"Of course," He replied before jumping off the balcony and into the city. Luka let out a sigh as Tikki flew out.

"Are you ok?" She asked, making him nod.

"But Hawkmoth has decided to hunt me down again," He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "I probably haven't helped the situation but I used that trick Feng taught me to escape from Pixelator's grip,"

"You projected your emotions on him again?"

"Yeah but just enough to stun him for a couple of minutes," He replied, glancing down. "I only did what I did to Issac because it was the only way to stop him without getting violent..."

"I know, Luka," She whispered, touching his cheek. "Trust me, I'm not judging you. I'm just surprised at how quickly you mastered that trick that's all. You really are a natural mage,"

"Thanks, Tikki," He smiled before frowning. "But Pixelator captured Marinette so it's time to transform. Tikki! Spots on!"

He transformed and took out his yoyo before scrolling through his contacts. Lady Noir wasn't online, making him frown but he shook his head and sent her a quick message, explaining the akuma. With that done, he went onto the ladyblog and scrolled through it's older posts til he came to the article on Pixelator when he first turned up. He read over it as he frowned. Obsessed with Jagged Stone, tried to capture him and ended up capturing multiple victims. He remembered taking him down with Simon Says and using his power to capture many akumas and jury members during Princess Justice's attack but he had no idea who he was as a civilian. With some of the akumas, it was obvious. Either they looked like their normal selves, they revealed who they were when talking, they were famous or he actually knew them in his normal life but with some akumas, he didn't have an idea who they were and Pixelator was one of those ones. It didn't help that technically reporters and bloggers weren't allowed to name their civilian identities but even with those ones, he could usually work who they were. Anatis frowned to himself before looking back at the article and read it over again. The part that stood out to him was the obsessed with Jagged Stone. Pixelator had said it as well. How he wanted to immortalize Jagged Stone. It reminded him of that creepy guy in the park who had interrupted his time with Marinette. He frowned as he thought about it. He had sprayed him with Pepper Spray so maybe he did get akumatized afterwards. Anatis let out a sigh and closed his yoyo. He only knew a few things about this guy. His first name was Vincent and he was obsessed with Jagged. He sighed before throwing his yoyo and swinging across to the Grand Paris Hotel. He landed on the roof and put his yoyo away before he heard his name been squealed. He glanced over and saw Chloe and Sabrina looking at him.

"Oh hey," He smiled, lifting his hand to wave. Sabrina giggled and followed Chloe as she rushed over.

"Are you on patrol?" Chloe asked.

"Actually, I'm looking for Jagged Stone," He replied, making her gasp in surprise. "He stays here right?"

"Oh! Yes!! Room 36 on the fourth floor," Sabrina gasped, making him nod. "We can show you to it,"

"That would be great," He smiled, causing the two girls to pull him over to the lift. The three of them went down the lift and to the fourth floor. Once there, Anatis thanked them and headed towards Jagged's room. He knocked on the door and waited for a few minutes before the door opened, revealing Penny.

"Anatis?" She asked, surprised.

"I need to talk to Mr Stone," He stated, causing her to nod and let him in. Jagged looked up from his guitar and gasped in surprise before jumping up and rushing over to him.

"Anatis! What brings you here?"

"Um... actually I wanted to ask about Pixelator," He stated, making Jagged frown. "He's returned and I need to know who he is,"

"Oh well that's easy," Jagged stated, making Anatis nod. "He's called Vincent Asa. He's this super obsessed fan of mine. When he first became Pixelator, it was because Penny caught him trying to take a picture of me without my permission. She kicked him out and well he got akumatized and came after me. Ryuko and Aspik saved me but a lot of other people got captured. I'm not sure how they got out though as they definitely escaped before you turned up. Anyway, they stopped him by destroying his camera,"

"Hmm," Anatis frowned, nodding to himself before taking out his yoyo and typing Vincent's name, finding his address. "Ok, I'm gonna go and investigate his home. Maybe I can find a clue as to how his power works or why he got akumatized,"

"Well, he just captures people and traps them in some sort of place," Penny stated, making Anatis shake his head. "Anatis?"

"It seems his power has grown. He is now able to travel through photos as well as capture people," He replied, frowning. "I recommend not going outside. Pixelator will try and capture you if he sees you, Mr Stone,"

"R-Right..." Jagged nodded before gasping. "Wait, you don't think he'll go after my son will you?!"

"Luka?" Anatis asked, making Jagged nod. "Actually, it was him who alerted me about Pixelator but I told him to hide somewhere Pixelator wouldn't think to look,"

"Like the school?" Jagged asked, making Anatis chuckle.

"Sure," He replied before opening the window and diving out of it, swinging off into the city. He landed on the building next to the one Vincent lived in before jumping down and climbing through an open window. He glanced around, frowning at all the pictures devoted to Jagged but a shiver came up to his spine as he saw pictures of himself, Juleka, Anarka and even Marinette. There were ones of him walking home from school and a couple of him and Juleka having ice cream. There were ones of Anarka, Jagged and Penny talking as well of ones of Marinette hanging out with him and Juleka and a couple of her meetings with Penny and Jagged. "Ok, this is a whole new level of creepy and I'm pretty sure this is illegal,"

He took out his yoyo and took photos for evidence. There was no way he was going to let Vincent get away with stalking. He might be Hawkmoth's current victim but this was something that needed to be addressed. He walked over and noticed a cloth on the side by a sink. He walked over and noticed it had black on it. He recognized it was eyeliner, suggesting that Vincent had been using it to wash his face. He frowned and walked over, picking it up. Almost instantly, his vision flashed, causing him to blink. When he opened his eyes, he still stood in front of the mirror but stood next to him was Vincent. Anatis jumped back in surprise but Vincent didn't react to him at all. In fact, he was still looking in the mirror. His eyes were red and watery as he shakily held the cloth. Anatis frowned and moved his hand in front of his face yet he didn't react to him. Instead, he sighed and moved his hand.

"Stupid brat," He muttered, running it under water before dubbing his eyes. "I just want a photo of Jagged! He didn't have to spray me with damn pepper spray!"

He slammed the cloth down and walked over to his bed, picking up his camera as an akuma fluttered into the room. Anatis frowned as he saw the akuma enter the camera. Vincent growled as he listened to Hawkmoth.

"I get the miraculous of Anatis and Lady Noir," He replied, making Anatis frown as he listened. "I know the drill,"

He didn't turn into Pixelator straight away. Instead, he continued to listen to Hawkmoth.

"Go on," He stated before gasping. "Jagged Stone's son?! Do you want his designer as well?"

Anatis frowned as he watched. Is that why he captured Marinette?

"Let the photo shoot begin, Hawkmoth..." Vincent stated, making Anatis frown as he turned into Pixelator before he blinked again and looked round the room. Vincent was gone and Anatis was still stood in front of the mirror, holding the cloth.

"That was new..." He muttered, making a mental note to ask Feng about it as he put down the cloth. He went to head to the door before noticing some odd looking pictures. It took a moment but he realized they weren't pictures but in fact, people trapped. He moved over and gasped as he saw a couple of people he didn't recognized but one he did. "Marinette?"

"Anatis!" She gasped, looking up at him with relief in her eyes. "Oh thank goodness, you're here! You need to find Luka! He's in big trouble,"

"Luka is safe, Marinette. I know Pixelator is after him so I've hidden him somewhere Pixelator won't think to look," He replied, making Marinette let out a sigh of relief as new pictures appeared on the wall. A few others noticed him and began to ask for help, causing him to look at them in shock. "What happened to you?"

"We were just walking- Behind you!" One of them gasped, causing Anatis to jump out of the way as Pixelator jumped out of a picture and began to shoot at him. He jumped over the couch as Pixelator aimed at him. He went to throw his yoyo but Pixelator's beam hit his arm, causing him to drop his yoyo. He gasped and jumped across the room, grabbing his yoyo as he did. Pixelator aimed at him, causing him to knock his body into the camera lights. They began to fall on Pixelator, forcing him to take photos of them so they didn't land on him. Seeing his chance, Anatis escaped through the window and swung off through the city, landing on a rooftop and moved behind a wall. He glanced behind and saw Pixelator wasn't following him, causing him to let out a small sigh of relief before he turned his attention back to his arm to see the damage. He looked at it and frowned as he saw it was pixelated. He took a deep breathe and went to touch it with his other hand, only for it to go straight through.

"Oh dear," He gasped, wiggling his fingers. "I really hope Tikki can fix that..."

His yoyo vibrated, causing him to open it with his good hand. It was a notification from the TVi studio. He went to press play but his fingers went through, making him sigh.

"Yoyo, play the video," He ordered, causing it to make the video play. He didn't use it very often but right now, he was glad he could use voice command on his yoyo. The video played, causing him to frown as he watched the news crew film Pixelator firing at random innocent people as he strolled down the Champs-Élysées before turning to the camera.

"Anatis, if you don't bring me what I want, I'll make sure everyone in Paris is nothing but memories!" He demanded before firing at the camera man, making the film cut off. Anatis sighed before closing his yoyo and swinging off to the Champs-Élysées. He landed on a bus as Pixelator continued to shoot at people, making him sigh.

"Got a itchy trigger finger hm?" He asked, causing Pixelator to turn around and face him. He went to fire at him but Anatis held up his hand. "Hold on! If you get rid of me now, you'll never know where I hid your target but more importantly, I have an offer for you that I know you won't be able to resist?"

"What could you possibly give me?" Pixelator asked, making Anatis smirk.

"Jagged Stone," He replied, causing the akuma to gasp. "I know you're his biggest fan and if you free the people you have captured, I'll arrange a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. Your very own photoshoot with Jagged Stone himself. He'll be yours forever,"

"You're lying," Pixelator gasped, making Anatis narrow his eyes.

"I would never lie," He stated, making Pixelator look at him. "Everyone knows how much I hate liars. Just look at how I reacted to Volpina,"

"Hmm... You did expose her," He stated, frowning as he tapped his chin.

"And you're never get a chance like this again," He stated, making Pixelator smile as he brought into it. "What do you say? Free the people you've captured and immortalize your idol forever or lose your chance forever?"

"How about I free half now then the other half once you bring Jagged here?" He replied, making Anatis pull a face before sighing.

"Alright, it's a deal," He replied, making Pixelator smirk before he pressed a button on the side of his head. A shockwave of pixels appeared before people began to reappear.

"Alright, I've kept my part of the deal now you keep yours," Pixelator stated, causing Anatis to nod. He took out his yoyo and opened it before trying to use it. He sighed and began to use his nose, making Pixelator roll his eyes. "Hurry up,"

"Well, I'd be able to do this faster if you hadn't pixelated my arm!" Anatis snapped back, looking up and moving the yoyo to his ear. "Ms Rolling, it's Anatis. I need you to bring Mr Stone to the Champs-Élysées. I know but it was the only way I could free some of the people. Yes... thank you for understanding,"

He moved his yoyo and used his chin to close it before looking at Pixelator.

"He's on his way," He stated as Lady Noir silently jumped down and slowly moved towards him. "So while we're waiting, why don't I guess where your akuma is or you could release the other half?"

"I'll release them when Jagged Stone gets here," He replied, stepping forward. "Of course, I could just take your miraculous right now hm? Since you've arranged for Jagged to come here, I no longer need you,"

"Yeah but I'm the only person who knows where your other target is," Anatis replied, making Pixelator stop. "And I know that's who Hawkmoth really wants. You get rid of me and I'll never tell you where he is,"

"You drive a hard bargain, Anatis," Pixelator replied, crossing his arms before glancing around. "You better not be lying to me,"

"I'm not," Anatis replied, tilting his head to the side. "Is it in your head gear?"

Pixelator snapped his head towards him, causing Anatis to pick up on a hint of panic.

"It is, isn't it?" He smirked as Lady Noir reached for it but before she could get it, Pixelator realized and turned around, grabbing her hand. She pushed against him before he knocked her down and grabbed her legs, throwing her into Anatis. He tried to catch her but thanks to his pixelated hand, it fails and she landed on him. Pixelator laughed and fired at them, causing Anatis to grab her with his good hand and roll under the car. "You ok?"

"I'm good," She replied as they jumped up and ran from Pixelator as he fired at the car. Lady Noir frowned as she noticed Anatis cradling his right hand. "What happened to your hand?"

"Oh, Pixelator hit it with his beam and... well..." He held it up, showing her what it looked like. Pixelator fired at them again, causing them to backflip away before landing on the ground as Pixelator fired at them again. To their surprise, he missed but then Lady Noir saw that he hit a window of a car behind them, causing the beam to bounce and head towards Anatis. She pushed him out of the way, causing her to disappear in pixels as it hit her. Anatis rolled and jumped up, throwing his yoyo at Pixelator who turned to him.

"When the cat's away, the mice will play," He smirked, pointing to his lens. "Ready to be immortalized forever, Anatis?"

"Can't wait," He grinned, spinning his yoyo and dodging Pixelator's beams before jumping over him and throwing his yoyo. It wrapped around his wrist as Anatis landed. He yanked it, causing Pixelator to fall forward. He growled and yanked his hand free as Anatis jumped onto a car and threw his yoyo, swinging away from him. Pixelator fired at him, hitting his leg and causing him to fall down as he stalked over.

"You're very clever, Anatis but it's obvious that you lied to me to distract me,"

"You were the one who believed me, Pixelator," He replied, moving away from him as best as he could. "I really do hate liars but did you really think I'd actually sacrifice a civilian?"

"Well played," He replied, smirking. "But I win this game. Look into-"

"Pixelator!" Jagged's voice echoed, causing Anatis to look over in surprise as Pixelator smirked and turned to him. He called out to him, trying to tell him to run as he was in danger. However, Jagged completely ignored him. "You want me?! Well, here I am!"

"Jagged!" He gasped, completely losing interesting in Anatis. "At last, I can finally immortalize you! Look into the lens!"

He went to take his photo but Jagged stopped him and switched pose before repeating the action. He questioned if the lighting was right or if his nose looked small, keeping Pixelator distracted and annoyed. Anatis tried to stand up but fell forward. However, Penny caught him surprising him.

"We saw the news reporter and it looked like you could use a hand," She whispered as Jagged spun around again, getting on his knees and holding up his hands. "I think it might be time to use your power,"

"Good suggestion," Anatis replied, throwing his yoyo up with his good hand. "Lucky charm!"

A compact mirror appeared out of thin and fell to the ground, causing Anatis to try and grab it. However, it phased through his hand but Penny caught it.

"A compact mirror?" She asked, holding it to him. He took it from her as she frowned. "What are you gonna do with that?"

"I'm not sure yet," He replied, looking around in his luck vision as Pixelator demanded that Jagged open his eyes. To his and Penny's surprise, a bunch of pixels appeared, causing everyone who got captured to return. Anatis let out a sigh of relief as he saw Lady Noir, causing his luck vision to work. It highlighted her baton and then the compact mirror. "Of course! Batter up!!"

He lifted it in his good hand and threw it towards Lady Noir, who used her baton as a bat and hit towards Jagged and Pixelator, just as he was about to take a photo of him. Everyone held their breathe as he pressed the button but the mirror flew inbetween him and Jagged as he did. The beam bounced back towards him, turning him into pixels and causing his head gear to fall to the ground. Lady Noir rushed over and grabbed the compact mirror before running over to Anatis. She handed him the compact mirror, causing him to take it and throw it up in the air with his good hand.

"Miraculous Ladybugs!" He shouted, causing it to burst into the magical swarm that headed straight for him, flowing around him before moving through Paris, fixing all the damage and returning Pixelator in front of him. With his arm and his leg fixed, Anatis crushed his head set and captured the akuma that escaped from it. Pixelator turned back into Vincent Asa, who looked around confused as Anatis let the butterfly go. However, Anatis stepped in front of him with a stern look at him. Vincent looked up at him and gulped as his expression was grim. "Officer Roger, I think you need to take this man into police custorary,"

"But he was a victim?" He asked, walking over as relief flooded Vincent's face.

"Yes, I'm a victim!" He gasped but he shut his mouth as Anatis took out his yoyo and opened it.

"While I was trying to work out how he got akumatized and his powers, I had to search his apartment," He replied, making Vincent go pale as Anatis turned to him. "I discovered his shrine to Jagged but also these,"

He showed Officer Roger, Penny and Jagged the pictures of he took of his photos of himself, Marinette, Penny, Anarka and Juleka.

"He's been stalking Jagged and his family I'd guess since Mr Roth released that information about my friend," He stated, making Vincent gulp as everyone looked at him. "I also know that he became akumatized again because he cornered Mr Couffaine and Miss Dupain-Cheng in the park earlier today, causing Mr Couffaine to panic and react by using pepper spray on him,"

"H-He assaulted me!" Vincent gasped. "H-He shouldn't have pepper spray!! It's illegal!!"

"Actually, Mr Couffaine applied for a licence in order to be able to carry a small spray of pepper spray on his person for a form of self defense, due to recent circumstances and it was approved by a court," Penny stated, surprising everyone. "Also, Officer Roger, please arrest this man. We will be pressing charges for stalking and harassing a minor. Anatis would you mind forwarding those to the right authorities for evidence?"

"Vincent Asa, you're under arrest," Officer Roger stated as Anatis' earrings beeped and Lady Noir's ring beeped. Anatis turned to Penny and Jagged.

"I'll send them as soon as I'm charged up again... but thank you for your help today," He smiled before turning to Lady Noir. "See you soon, Kitten,"

"Bye, Annie," She grinned before jumping away.

~Hawkmoth's Lair~

"Sir?" Nathalie asked as Hawkmoth frowned deeply. She walked over to him and placed his hands over his. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," He stated, turning to the window. "It's time to put Miss Rossi's skill to use again and to see how loyal she is to me,"

"What do you have planned sir?" She asked as he detransformed and led her through his garden and up to his office. He took out his calendar and opened it, scrolling through the dates before stopping on it. "Sir?"

"In two weeks time, it will be exactly one year since Anatis made his first appearance," He replied, tapping the screen. "And on that way, he will finally fall and I will finally claim his and that annoyed cat's miraculous,"

"But how will you do that?"

"With a distraction," He replied, tapping on the screen. "It just happens to be the wedding anniversary of Mr and Mrs Rossi on the same day. Emotions run high and with a little invention on Miss Rossi's part, the happy couple won't be so happy. I'll akumatize them and Anatis will fight them,"

"He'll defeat them,"

"Exactly and he won't expect a second akuma straight away," Hawkmoth smirked. "He'll be caught off guard,"

"An excellent plan," She replied, making Hawkmoth smirk. "Will you go after Mr Couffaine again?"

"I won't need to," He replied, smirking. "With the second akuma will have him come to me easily but Mr Couffaine is a secondary goal and won't matter if I get the miraculous,"

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Next Chapter: Chapter 59

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