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anythingandeverything1d · 3 years ago

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The Tape (Conclusion)

Life with Harry seemed to settle down. You focused on recovery, he focused on work. You both spent the evenings cuddled up in bed watching episodes of the Bachelor and you fell asleep to the pounding of his heart beat every night. Life with Harry was exactly the way it had been before the tape leaked. You laughed as he danced around the kitchen in the evenings while making dinner and swooned in the taste of his lips as he pushed your back into the counter waiting for the ding on the oven timer. You were happy, he was happy, but there was still something missing... something just didn't seem right. Harry was still slightly distant about parts of his day, where he was going, what he was doing, why he would leave the room for phone calls. You had originally talked it up as stress with tour planning, but it wasn't that. He was keeping secrets...and you didn't like that.

You were lounging on the couch in one of Harry's shirts, scrolling through Netflix and hoping to find something that captured your attention. "Hey love, I'm heading to the studio for a bit." Harry walked in, phone to his ear and eyebrows furrowed together.

"I thought you were done recording?" you questioned, sitting up to meet his eyes.

His gaze dropped to the floor before he turned towards the kitchen. "Yeah...I uh.. I have some final cuts to run through."

You jumped up to follow him, "I thought we were going to spend the day together? You know since you have been working so much lately?"

"Ahh, well yes we will but once I'm done with this one thing."

"Harry." You crossed your arms and stared into the green eyes you loved so much.

"I'm sorry babe. We will spend the rest of the day together when I get home and I have a surprise planned too." He winked before pulling the door to the garage open.

"What kind of surprise?" You questioned, following him out of the house.

"If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise now would it?"

"Harry..." you whined, stomping your foot as if you were a toddler pouting about not getting a cookie before dinner.

Harry smiled, walked over and placed a warm kiss on your forehead, forcing you to meet his gaze with a gentle lift of the chin. "Now now love, don't be dramatic. You're going to love it. I think. I hope." He kissed your lips softly and smiled. "Now I'd love to stay and kiss you some more....but the later I leave, the later I return."

You kissed him and pulled him into a hug with a sigh. "Fine."

Harry chuckled and kissed you once more before climbing in the car. "I love you."

"I love you too." You watched as he pulled out of the driveway before sprinting back inside to where Harry kept his laptop. Something was going on and you wanted in on the action. Harry's laptop sprung to life as you anxiously tapped the space bar 100 times. You typed his password and clicked enter only to get the incorrect notification. You sighed. Why had he changed the password. You pulled out the desk drawers and sighed, there was nothing even remotely interesting in them. You looked through his planner and calendar and still nothing. You were out of luck. You leaned back in his office chair and spun around, chewing the bottom of your lip. There has to be something... You grabbed your phone and called the first person who came to mind. "Louis."

"Goodness love, what do you need now." Louis' voice called from the other end.

"What's Harry's laptop password?"

"Why do you need that?" Louis chuckled more interested in the conversation now.

"I uh...I need to do some work."

"What's wrong with yours?" Louis teased.

"Its broken." you lied.

"Sure it is." Louis laughed again and you knew he was rolling his eyes.

"Please Lou, what's the password?"

"Why do you think I know?"

"Because you know Harry. You know what hes doing and what he thinks about."

"Sorry girlie, but I dont have anything for ya."

"Ugh Louis...."

"What are you really trying to figure out?"

"Nothing...." you lied.

"Okay then I've got to go-"

"No wait. Fine." You sighed and leaned your head back. "I want to know what hes planning. Wheres hes at right now."

"You dont trust him?" Louis teased again.

"He's hiding something Louis. I know he is."

"Maybe. But still, that's not the way to find out."

"You know. You know what hes been up to."

"Now now love, no I don't."

"Louis."

"Ive got to go love, just be patient."

"Patient? What does that mean? Louis what-" The phone went dead and you groaned in frustration. Something was for sure going on. You contemplated your options. You could follow Harry. You could go confront Louis. You could try a couple more passwords before locking Harry out of his computer. None really pleased you though. Instead you called another lifeline.

The phone rang, and rang, and rang before the voice finally breathed a hello on the other end. "Liam!"

"(y/n)... what uh what can I do for you?"

"You mean I can't just call my friend?"

"No..well yeah, of course you can. But you normally don't so what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I need your help."

"Is something wrong?"

"Kind of...."

"I'll be there in 5." You smiled and jumped up from the chair.

"I love you Liam."

"Yeah, yeah. See you soon."

You ran downstairs and waited anxiously by the door until Liams car pulled in the driveway. You met him at the door with a smile and a big hug. "Thank you for coming!"

"So what's the problem? Are you okay? Is Harry okay?" Liam looked anxiously around.

"Yeah we are both okay."

Liam breathed a sigh of relief before turning his attention back to you. "Then what's the problem?"

"Well....." you dove into the story of Harry's behavior and the surprise, the change in his computer password, and your uncertain feeling about him hiding something.

"(y/n)...You know Harry loves you-"

"I know but with everything that happened I just feel like something is off." Liam bit his lip and looked away. "You know." you poked him in the chest. "you know what he's hiding."

"What? No I-"

"Liam Payne. Tell me now."

Liam sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Just trust me okay? Hes not hiding anything, I mean he is but its nothing bad." Liam turned back towards the car. "I have to go."

"LIAM!" you screamed. "What do you think youre doing?"

"Leaving."

"Seriously?"

"Trust him."

"I do trust him but-"

"No buts. Trust him and let it all play out. I can't be involved in this."

"That's what Louis told me." You crossed your arms and glared. "Youre supposed to be the good one."

Liam laughed and waved before climbing in the car. "Love you."

"Yeah yeah, love you too." You turned back to the house as he pulled away. Left with your endless thoughts and questions about everything.

You were sprawled out on the couch lost in thought when the door opened. "Hello?"

You sat up confused until Niall walked into view. "Niall?"

Niall smiled and ran to you for a hug, tackling you back to the couch. "Ive missed you." His arms closed around you and breathed in the cologne he always wore.

"What are you doing here?" You asked slightly confused.

"Well I just wanted to come and check in. We haven't really talked much lately. How are things with Harry?"

You dove into your explanation and watched Niall take it all in. He didn't seem to have as much info as the other boys. When you had finished explaining your feelings and concerns he smiled and shook his head with a small chuckle escaping his lips. "What?" you asked smiling and pushing his shoulder back. "Why are you laughing?"

"(y/n) Harry loves you more than anything else in this world. You shouldn't be worried."

"I'm not worried....I just feel like hes keeping something from me."

"He is."

"What?"

"Harry is keeping something from you." Niall repeated again, scrolling through the channels looking for golf.

"And you know that because?"

"I talk to him pretty frequently."

"So then what is it?"

"Oh I can't tell you."

Anger flared and you took the remote out of his hands. "Why not?"

"Because its not my thing to share. It's Harry's."

"Okay but-"

"Trust him."

"But-"

"(y/n) seriously its a good thing."

"Niall."

"(y/n)."

"Pleaseeeeeeeee" you grabbed his hands and gave your best sad face.

Niall smiled and tapped his finger to your nose. "I can't tell you. Harry would kill me." Niall stood up and laughed, and you would be really upset if I ruined the surprise.

"I would not."

"Yes you would." Niall grabbed his jacket.

"Where are you going?" you whined.

"I'm going home to watch golf and work on the new album. You have a date to get ready for anyways." You looked at the time on the tv. Niall was right, Harry would be home in an hour and you were still in the pjs you had worn the night before. "Let me know how it goes." Niall wrapped you in a hug and smiled softly, lost in another thought.

Once Niall had left you ran upstairs, jumping in a hot shower and pulling out outfits. You landed on a cute sundress, sandals, and left your hair down with gentle curls. You fixed your make up and smiled at the appearance in the mirror. You heard the door downstairs open and headed towards the stairs. "Harry?"

"Hey love." His deep voice called up. "Ready to go?" You met him in the kitchen, a gasp escaping your lips. Harry was in a suit, his hair slicked back, and a bouquet of roses in his hands. His shirt was unbuttoned, leaving the slightest view of the tattoos on his chest. Harry was biting his lip, looking you up and down with a smile. The blush in your cheeks got darker as he approached and placed a kiss on your nose. "You look stunning."

"Uh... you... thanks...I mean so do you." Sometimes you forgot the effects the boy had on you.

Harry laughed and tilted your chin up, his lips meeting yours. "Thank you my love."

Harry handed you the flowers and took your other hand pulling you towards the garage. "Where are we going?"

"Its a surprise."

"Really?"

"Really. Now come on." He opened the door for you and you climbed in, nervously twirling a piece of hair.

Harry smiled and leaned in for a kiss and you met his with a soft sigh. "Ready to tell me?" He just laughed and started driving.

After a decent drive, you arrived at a small park. It looked oddly familiar, but yet something was still a little different. Harry grinned, knowing you still weren't sure what was happening. He jumped out, opened the door, helped you out and smiled. "Know where we are?"

You looked around, a small pond down the trail catching your eyes. You nodded and grinned. "This is the park we went to that night. The night that you first told me you loved me." Harry nodded, pulling your hand and leading you down the path, away from the public and somewhere that seemed more remote. You laughed, thinking of the night. "I thought you were going to kill me that night."

"Kill you?" Harry scoffed, a laugh forming in his smile.

"It's not everyday a guy takes you into the woods, away from people, and out of reach of like anything."

"I like remote places. Theres only one thing to focus on when im there. You." He tapped your nose and you smiled. Harry placed his hands around your eyes and you grinned at the anticipation.

"I can't see."

"That's the point. Cant ruin the surprise quite yet." You walked a little farther and Harry stopped. "Okay love close your eyes."

"But I already can't see."

"Just do it." You closed your eyes and Harry removed his hands, stepping away. "Open them."

Your eyes fluttered open and your mouth dropped. Lights were strung throughout the trees leading to the creek. Harry was leaning nervously against the tree, the one where everything had began. The one that had a carved out heart with your initials. The one where he had pushed you back into and kissed you, telling you that you were his one and only love. You walked forward in awe, and Harry reached for your hand. You grabbed it and opened your mouth, "Haz..."

"(Y/n), you were my first real love, the person I wanted to spend forever with. You stood by me at my worst. You made me better. I know the past has been rocky, and I know theres a lot that we are still figuring out, but theres one thing that I know for sure will never change. You. You are the sunshine on a dark day. You are the best thing to ever happen to me. My rock, my cuddle bug, my best friend." Harry took a step back and nervously dropped to one knee, pulling out a box.

"What-"

"(Y/N) I want to marry you. Will you please be in my life forever and make me the happiest man? Please marry me love."

You nodded and Harry smiled but kept going. "I'm going to need an actual answer dear. (Y/n) be my forever. Will you please marry me?"

"Yes" you nodded through the tears. Harry smiled, slipped the ring on your finger and tackled you in the biggest bear hug. He spun you around, your back hitting the tree and his lips landing on yours. Your fingers tangled in the curls and his teeth lightly tugged on your lip.

"I want you." Harry growled, his fingers slipping into the shirt you were wearing.

"You already have me." You giggled.

"That's not what I meant." You could feel him growing in his pants.

"Take me." You whispered in his ear.

"Oh I will, Mrs. Styles." Harry tugged the shirt off and you laughed pushing him lightly away for a minute.

"Sure you dont want to record this as a sex tape?" You teased.

Harry rolled his eyes and tugged his clothes off. "Good one." He snorted pulling your body back to his. "I dont need a tape." He kissed you softly. "Im never going to lose this, forget this, or need anything else. The other guys would kill me anyways."

"Were they all in on this?"

"Oh yes. They are in the parking lot waiting with champagne."

"Harry!"

"Shhh....They can wait, I need you now."

----

Finally Done! What did you think?

#harry syles imagine #harry styles fanfction #harry styles fanfic #harry styes smut #harry styles #one direction imagines #one direction fanfiction #one direction #the tape

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emilykinncy · 4 years ago

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Normily My Caffeine Withdrawal Podcast episode (transcript of certain parts)

EK intro: I first met Norman Reedus working on The Walking Dead of course. Over the course of my four seasons on our show, I got to know Norman better and better and we became good friends. And in a sort of interesting parallel, our characters storylines also became more intertwined within the show. Norman is so special, he seems to have endless amounts of creative energy that I find incredibly inspiring. He also has great taste in music and coffee which makes him a perfect guest for this podcast. Welcome back to My Caffeine Withdrawal, I am so incredibly excited to share this episode with all of you today. Norman has so many fans and I know this to be true because everyday someone in my life or someone on social media asks me ‘hey, how was it working with Norman? What is Norman Reedus like?’ Well, now today you guys are going to get to know Norman in the same way that I know Norman! We talk about how Norman got into acting and when and why he moved to California, as well as what his life was like as an artist first starting out in Los Angeles. We talk about a book he’s been writing! And he tells a lot of great stories! But first, Norman explained his current coffee setup situation and how he’s currently weathering the quarantine from Costa Rica.

This gets long so putting it behind a cut!

I put a timestamp of where each segment starts at the end of them!

NR: Hi Emily!

EK: Hi!

NR: I just set this up cause I’ve been listening to your podcast which I really like and I know it’s heavy on the coffee so I brought my coffee setup down the mountain in my backpack on the motorcycle and this is my coffee jam here (I’m not 100% sure of the last 2 words) so, this is what I do. You ready?

EK: Yes!

*NR shows her & describes his coffee process*

EK: What was the thing um, on Instagram, you posted this picture of a hummingbird, that was crazy! What made you post that?

NR: It’s this person that I’ve become friends with, they only try to post positive things…*he explains more about the person & post* (starts at 6:08)

EK: You wanna hear something kind of crazy about the hummingbird thing? I don’t know if you know this about me but I’ve definitely gotten more like spiritual…but like *Emily giggle* this is gonna sound crazy and I don’t even usually talk about this stuff, but I sort of have this sign of when I’m like guided where I’m supposed to go, and my sign has been a hummingbird. And you had text me and I randomly looked at your Instagram and saw—

NR: Wow

EK: —It definitely was like one of those where like ‘go there’, maybe it was just if there is a god or whatever just being like ‘oh nice, connect with your friend, you know, like connect with Norman…’

NR: I actually believe all that. When I texted you I was having breakfast at this place by the beach, the lady that makes the honey, by her place. And I was listening to your podcast with Lennie. And I had already heard Lauren’s and I was listening to Lennie’s, and at the end of it you were like ‘you know what I hope during Covid everyone can reach out to a friend’ and I was like ‘I’m just gonna text her’ so I texted you at that moment. I have the same thing with a bird like my dad, before my dad died he was always talking about cardinals, those red cardinals. So everytime I see a cardinal I think the same thing. And then the night before, Danai called me out of nowhere. I hadn’t spoken to Danai in forever. And she’s like ’what are you doing?’ and I’m like ‘I’m sitting on my patio with all the lights off…’ and there was a meteor shower, it was called like the Gideon meteor shower, this huge meteor shower that happened. And I saw 21 shooting stars before I went to bed. I pay attention to all that shit—

EK: Yeah

NR: 21! And I was like talking to her I’m like ‘there’s 11! There’s 12!’ and it just kept going. I believe all that stuff.

EK: I grew up Catholic so I kind of, like…religion in general felt sort of overwhelming even though prayer and stuff like that came naturally to me and then just over like the last like 5 or 6 years or so I’ve like really embraced it where I’m sort of like ‘yep, I think these things are happening, I have little signs that tell me like where to go…’. I guess I don’t really talk about it with people much but it’s just, like I read about it and stuff. Yeah.

NR: I believe it, I believe all of them. I’m not really religious but I believe all those signs all the time. I see little signs in everything, yeah.

EK: Yeah! (starts at 9:38)

EK: That sounds like you’ve had a very productive quarantine, or whatever this corona-pocalypse quarantine time.

NR: I’m not good with sitting still, you know what I mean, so I’m always doing something.

EK: Yeah! Yeah. I mean that’s one thing, when I was thinking about—when I was around you more working on the show, was that you were always…like you know sitting down to dinner and then like noticing this saltshaker and this fork should be next to each other in a certain way and then you can take a picture. You know what I mean, like I remember that about you like always making something, I guess. Or looking for the art in it or the picture. Or, you know, which um—

NR: it’s ADD or something I dunno what…

EK: I admired it because I feel like I can be so slow. Like, I love making stuff but I can sort of like piece it together over weeks and then I finally do—like in my head somehow, like I’m more of like a turtle! You know just like—

NR: Yeah but you make music! I mean, we all wish we could write songs and perform songs. You know, you make music. We all wish we were musicians, you know what I’m saying, so. (starts at 18:18)

EK: I remember you telling me a story of how you got an agent by like going to a party and then someone said ‘do you want to be in a play?’ and then you were the understudy and then the guy just happened to have to call out so then you were in the play, you didn’t have to be the understudy and then an agent—and that’s how it all started with acting, um, *laughs* did I just tell your story for you?!

NR: You’re right. No, no you’re exactly right. That’s exactly what happened. (starts at 26:08)

NR: I actually made an album, a music album

EK: You did?!

NR: Yeah

EK: Oh, that’s—you wrote all the songs and stuff? Or did you—

NR: I didn’t write any of it. And I didn’t really sing it, it’s more of a spoken word thing

EK: Yeah!

NR *tells story about how this came about, which involves an igloo*

EK: Wait, why were you in an igloo in Switzerland?! *laughs*

NR *tells more of the story…it’s long ok I don’t wanna transcribe it sdhfhsfh*

EK: Yeah I wanna hear your album! I mean…

NR: It’s out—

EK: It is?!

NR: It played…it did pretty well in France, it was on the radio and shit

EK: Yeah, will you email it to me or something, so I can…

NR: I will. Yeah yeah.

EK: I also wanted to make sure today to get some of your music picks because I remember back when we were on the show you always gave me the best music, like stuff that I hadn’t heard. I don’t know if if it’s just like because of your friends in New York or like maybe you’re a little bit older than me so you know different bands than I do. But, I remember like Dinosaur Jr., you like introducing me to Dinosaur Jr. Like I didn’t really know Dinosaur Jr. before you

NR: That’s crazy that you don’t know Dinosaur Jr. then (? I really can’t tell for sure that last word he says)

EK: I know! I think I might have pretended that I kind of I knew but like you introduced me for sure and I like totally dove in. But yeah during this quarantine, what have you been listening to?

NR: *lists some bands* Sean Lennon’s band that he made with Les Claypool is really good. He was on Ride with me.

EK: Oh, he was?! I’ve only see—I haven’t seen all the episodes of that, I’ve only seen, um, a few of them (adsdfdjf don’t lie Emily it’s probably actually 0 but we all understand babe) (starts at 35:10)

EK: It was so fun to talk to you today

NR: Yeah I miss you! I miss you, it’s good to see you and hear you.

EK: I miss you too, I’m going to check out that sock method…although I think it’s just pour over it’s just with a special…reusable—

NR: Yeah, a dirty sock

EK: Yeah, but something about it, yeah….*both laugh* Thank you for being on here, it feels so good to like chat with you

NR: Yeah, I miss you it’s good to hear your voice

EK: I miss you too, yeah. *she starts talking about twd & the connection with everyone etc* (starts at 41:36)

NR: *after he mentions everyone from the cast he’s still in touch with* You get these friendships with people and it becomes a big part of your life, your friends on the show, so. I’m glad I’m talking to you

EK: Yeah, I’m glad I’m talking to you too. (starts at 44:03)

From Emily’s end blurb: I hope you guys enjoyed Norman and I’s little catch up call over Zoom, I hope that you learned something new about Norman you didn’t know before. You know, Norman and I really hadn’t connected much over the last couple years (we all know this Emily and we pretty much all know why lol) we’ve just been on sort of different paths (yeah, that’s a way to put it I guess haha) but again and again I’m finding that one of the blessings of this time, being stuck at home, is remembering and reconnecting with people I care about and people that care about me. Maybe you have a friend you used to work with that you haven’t caught up with for a while and now you’ll feel inspired to send them a little text saying hello.

(How do they literally have chemistry on a *podcast* okay bye I’m going to go fly into the sun now)

#emily kinney #normily #i remember the old days ok i'm not putting this in the nr tag lol #jeez this took a while...i feel like i'm back in 2014-17 lol #can't believe he invited himself on the show lmaoo #like i can but...why is he like this #i realize that isn't said specifically but it's kinda the natural conclusion

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mattzerella-sticks · 5 years ago

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Caught (a 9-1-1 fic post-s3 finale)

Photobooths are prime for catching special moments and making them last forever, even if they are less both and more open spaces with a backdrop. When Athena, Bobby, and Michael stumble upon one such moment between Buck and Eddie, what will they do?

And how will it affect Maddie and Chimney?

T, 3.7k, Athena/Bobby, Buck/Eddie, Maddie/Chimney

Athena finds operating a laptop with only one hand maddening. Typing up an e-mail takes double the time, she needs breaks when shopping online, and scrolling through social media becomes dangerous when she accidentally likes pictures she didn’t mean to. If she had her choice, Athena would be on her phone. But the hired photographer from May’s party e-mailed the pictures from the photo booth, both Bobby and Michael nearby when her phone pinged. Instead of having her husband and ex-husband crowded at her shoulders, Athena pokes her password into the given space while the men gather snacks. When she finally has the first picture loaded, Bobby places the bowl of popcorn by her sling and Michael hands off a soda.

“I think we’ve never looked better Bobby,” Michael laughs, pointing at the screen.

Athena snickers into her drink, studying the picture. Bobby’s jaw dropped in a faux yell; guitar hugged tightly against his chest. Fingers hooked as if he were playing something. Michael’s expression mirrored his except the tinsel wig on his head making it immensely funnier. “Don’t you be trying to steal my man from me, Michael,” she warns, attempting severity, “You already got a doctor eating out of your hand.”

“Okay you two,” Bobby settles his arm across Athena’s chair, chuckling, “we’ll never get through these if you two are bickering. Athena, click onto the next picture?”

They kill the next half-hour like that, pausing every so often to laugh at a few pictures. Like Maddie with May, the two women back-to-back and imitating an old spy poster. Or Chimney and Hen battling with the inflatable guitars like they were axes. Although not every picture was funny. Michael and Athena thought May and her boyfriend gravitated closer than necessary for a simple photo. And Athena needed a moment, collecting herself from the sheer adorableness of Buck and Christopher’s faces pressed cheek-to-cheek.

The next few pictures included Buck as well, except Christopher’s father joined in the fun in his son’s place. Eddie sipping a drink while Buck played the guitar. Him raising a leg mid-kick while Buck locked eyes with the camera. Smoking on a corncob pipe as Buck runs wild behind him. Flexing, playing the guitar, and jumping. One picture had half of his face cut off.

Buck must have landed closer, because Athena clicked on and they occupied the same breadth of space. Eddie, non-plussed, while the younger man messed with him. Grinning, swinging beads in his face. Then wincing when it struck the soft spot between his brows. Brushing gently over his nose in a cursory inspection, too close. Followed by –

“Oh, my,” Athena gasped, hand over her mouth. She felt Bobby tense at her side and Michel mutter a curse under breath.

The photographer, with perfect timing, captured the briefest of pecks. Buck’s lips on Eddie’s, both puckered. Expectant. None of them can decipher who initiated the embrace. Only that it happened and there was no mistaking the intention

“Well I’ll be damned,” Michael says, “this is…”

Athena glances at her husband, “Did you know about this?”

Bobby shakes out of his stupor, turning to her. “No, I… I had no idea,” he says, “I mean, they’re close but I always thought it was more like… brothers?”

Michael snorts, drawing Athena’s attention. “Do you have anything to add?”

His mouth thins, and he inches back. “No, I’m as shocked as you both are… A little intrigued… and embarrassed I didn’t notice those boys swung on my team before… But shock is at the forefront.”

She sighs, sagging in her seat. Her finger scrolls onto the next arrow except she cannot continue. Athena finds herself staring at the picture again. “What should we do?”

Bobby hums and squeezes her shoulder. “We can pretend this didn’t happen and let them come to us in their own time?” He nods at the screen, “For the first month at least. If they don’t say something past then, I will have to bring it up anyway seeing as fraternization between coworkers requires tons of paperwork.”

“Okay, then I guess we keep this to ourselves until they own up on their own,” she says, moving on, “or you need evidence if they try and deny it altogether.”

“Always thinking like a cop,” Michael laughs, nudging her, “you’ll be back on the streets soon enough.”

“We’ll see.” She finally clicks onto the next picture, another Eddie and Buck. More bashful and with ruddy cheeks. If there were any confusion about the prior scene, this added the final layer of context. “They do make an adorable couple.”

“And a hot couple…”

Athena elbows Michael with her good arm, scowling. “Hush up. Think about your doctor.”

The mood returns, not at the same level it was before the discovery but there the same. They finish viewing the album and then spend more time dividing it. Creating folders for their friends and family so they can have their pictures. Athena finds the kissing scene again and immediately puts it, and the accompanying aftermath shot, in its own folder. She forgets it when they start compressing the files for ease of sending.

Unfortunately, when attaching Buck’s pictures to the e-mail, his zip file contains two folders.

-----------------------------------------

Buck find Eddie in the kitchen, pouring milk into two bowls of cereal. His heart skips a beat at the scene of pure domesticity. The way sunlight streams through the thin curtains and makes Eddie glow in its beams. Makes him look more irresistible than he already is. He tugs his shirt down over his chest and walks over, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s chest. “Breakfast? Really?”

“What – not a fan of Fruit Loops?”

“I love Fruit Loops,” Buck chuckles, kissing at the bruise on Eddie’s neck he made earlier. “But I don’t know if three o’clock is the perfect time for them.” Still, he takes the bowl from off the counter and opens a nearby drawer.

Eddie grabs spoons for them both. “Breakfast isn’t a meal… it’s a state of mind. It’s the first thing you eat when you get out of bed. And since we haven’t left the bed since now…”

“We could’ve left earlier,” Buck reminds him, “If you weren’t so damn horny.”

“I wasn’t the one practically crying for dick in my ass –“

“Hey, hey!” Buck cuts him off, cheeks burning hotter the longer Eddie laughs. “I wasn’t crying, I was… heavily suggesting.”

“Sure…”

He scowls, sticking his spoon in Eddie’s bowl and stealing a bite. “If you didn’t want a second round, all you had to do was say so. But don’t go complaining because I was making sure you were having a great time while Christopher’s at camp.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie shakes his head, grimacing, “please don’t quote my son’s card while we’re talking about sex.”

“You started it,” Buck smirks, pointing with his spoon. “Your fault if you can’t handle the heat.”

Eddie shoves at him, jostling the milk and spilling some onto his shirt. A soggy Fruit Loop dove from his bowl and landed on his foot, near his big toe. Buck retaliates with a push of his own, although Eddie catches his wrist and drags him into a kiss that makes him forget about the milk stain, dropped Fruit Loop, and Eddie’s teasing.

They break for air, foreheads pressed against each other. “We should really be eating.”

“Yeah.”

It’s another five minutes standing there. Balancing bowls of cereal and trading kisses. When they finish, Eddie guides Buck into the living room. They cuddle on the sofa, Buck crossing his legs under him and flicking the television on. Flipping through channels until he finds a cartoon he likes. Halfway through the SpongeBob episode, he feels a heavy stare. Buck turns, cheeks stuffed with cereal, to find Eddie watching with a small grin. “What?”

“Maybe I should have sent you to camp alongside Chris,” Eddie says, “that way you could have had fun with all the other kids.”

He swallows, glaring. “Shut up…” Eddie leans forward and brushes his lips across Buck’s cheeks, halting any further protest. Unwilling to let Eddie win, however, Buck redirects his attention elsewhere. Namely his blinking cell phone, resting on the coffee table since last night. Buck must have forgotten it sometime between Eddie kissing him and Eddie carrying him out with Buck’s legs around Eddie’s waist.

Buck opens it, wincing at the number of messages.

Eddie peers over his shoulder, spoon in his mouth. “Popular?”

“Something like that…” He scrolls through the notifications. At the tagged pictures on Instagram and the missed calls, choosing his texts first. Sees five from Chimney asking about where his is and if he can come over. Then twenty from Maddie progressively growing angrier the longer Buck didn’t respond. Buck types back on the last message. Answers her ‘Buck I am not kidding you better answer me asap we need to talk’ sent at one-twenty-three with a ‘Sorry b there soon’ at three-thirteen. “I gotta go to Maddie’s…”

“What for?”

Buck scans through the texts again, shrugging. “Doesn’t say. But it must be important if both her and Chim were on my case.”

Eddie knocks shoulders with Buck. “Want me to tag along?”

“I’d appreciate it,” Buck tells him, “but if we’re supposed to keep this low-profile, I doubt showing up together will help.”

“But we always show up together,” he argues.

“Not after having fantastic sex.”

“You’re right,” Eddie concedes, thoughtful expression transforming into one more devious. His fingers tickle Buck’s thigh before he squeezes Buck’s cock. “I’d rather show up after mind-blowing sex.”

“Eddie, you’re killing me,” Buck whines, “I’m too tired.” Except he lays his bowl on the table alongside Eddie’s and happily relaxes onto the couch. Lying underneath the other man while he licks at his collar bone. Buck giggles while his friend’s stubble rubs against his skin. Absentmindedly Buck looks at his phone, scrolling through more apps. He opens his e-mail and sees the message from Athena labelled: ‘May’s Graduation Party Photos’. “Hey Eddie, the photos from May’s party are here.”

“What?” Eddie asks, rising momentarily for air.

“Pictures!”

“Another time, Bucky…” he presses a sloppy kiss at his jaw, smirking. Toying with Buck’s shirt. “Be with me now.”

“Let me take a quick look.” Buck ignores Eddie’s pleading, opening it. Downloads the file and clicks the icon, switching apps. He opens the first folder, a photo of Buck and Maddie greeting him. “Oh, these came out nicely…”

Eddie continues dropping kisses on different points of his body while Buck scrolls through each picture. “Really, Buck,” he gasps after sucking a mark onto Buck’s hip. A feat that usually leaves him panting, sweaty, and writhing in Eddie’s embrace. “Can’t this wait? Feeling unappreciated…”

Buck threads his hand through Eddie’s hair, patting it. “Almost done,” he tells Eddie, “There’s another file here… looks like it’s only two –“ He cuts off, eyes widening.

Startled, Eddie raises a brow at him. “Buck? You okay?” Nothing. Eddie crawls up and forces Buck’s gaze away from the phone and towards him, tilting at his jaw. “Speak to me. What is it?”

He cannot speak. So he shows Eddie his phone, watching the blown pupils retract as the mood shifts.

It’s a photo from the party, one they hadn’t realized was captured. Their first kiss. When Buck was so overwhelmed with happiness and warmth and, staring at Eddie, crossed the divide without thought. A quick peck that left them stuttering and blushing and unsure where they stood. Buck ran away, not waiting for Eddie. Moving until the other man dragged him into an empty room to explain himself.

Buck had nothing. No reason why he kissed Eddie except that it felt right. Which he proved by pressing him against the wall and kissing him again. Eddie answered in kind, flipping him around and hauling his leg up. Thumb brushing his kneecap.

They broke, muted sounds of the party filtered through the door. Eddie cleared his throat, “We still need to talk about this.”

“Definitely…”

Both men said their goodbyes, five minutes after the other. Promises that when Christopher left for camp, they would restart their conversation. Eddie drove straight over, card still in hand when he knocked on Buck’s door.

Buck hung it on the fridge before they tripped up the stairs in hurried excitement, shedding clothes and tumbling on the bed.

Talking came after the sex.

“What do you think it means?” Buck asks, “Why would Athena send this?”

Eddie shrugs, mouth flapping worriedly. “I don’t know,” he finally says, “Maybe she… maybe she sent without looking?”

Buck rolls his eyes. “Karen and Hen had their photos taken but I don’t have any of theirs. She definitely saw this.” His mind works double time, connecting loose threads into a makeshift sweater. “Wait,” he says, pushing Eddie off him and onto his knees. “Wait, hold on… do you think this is what those texts were about?”

“Texts? What texts?”

“Chim and Maddie,” he reminds Eddie, “the urgent texts that – that didn’t mention what made them so damn urgent. Do you think… Athena sent this photo to them, too? To Hen? Everybody?”

Eddie sighs and runs his hands up and down Buck’s shoulders, added warmth like a candle fighting an iceberg. “Athena wouldn’t do that,” he says, “I’m sure this was nothing. Maybe even a… a simple way of letting us know she knows and she supports us?”

“Still…”

As if seeing the smoke billowing out his ears, Eddie stands and offers a hand. “Come on.” Buck squints up at him, curious. “You think Maddie and Chimney know about us. You won’t know by sitting here spinning out. When we get there, we can see what they have to say.”

Buck fights his smile, but a tiny smirk still appears. “We?” he asks.

“Yes, we,” Eddie tells him, “So let’s move. I think I have a shirt that’ll fit, but it might be a little short?”

“What about my clothes from yesterday?”

“Please,” Eddie matches his smirk, “we’re not sure if they know about us. Why make it obvious by doing that.” Most of the tension from moments ago disappears with their laughter, Eddie ridding him of the rest by hauling Buck into a tender kiss. “Hurry,” he whispers, “because if we stay here any longer, I won’t want to leave the house until tomorrow.”

“Tempting…” Buck pushes off, smiling. “Very tempting, but I already promised Maddie. She’s mad enough at me as it is.” Eddie tries catching his wrist one more time but Buck, aware of this trick, dodges at the last second and bounces off. The other man chases with great speed.

The playfulness helps distract Buck from the impending appointment with his sister and their friend. And leaves him grateful that he and Eddie crossed over in their relationship, onto the next level. Into what it was always meant to be, what it kept building towards over the years. Abby’s return the final push giving Buck the clarity he needed in understanding his feelings.

When the hurt finally stopped, the loneliness he expected to follow didn’t. Because Buck had his sister. The one-eighteen. Christopher and Eddie.

Especially Eddie. Especially when his lips tickle his neck, and delays them further.

-----------------------------------------

Maddie paces the floor, chewing on a bite of pickle. “What’s taking him so long?” she asks Chimney, her boyfriend watching from a nearby couch. “I swear, if he isn’t in this room in the next five minutes…”

Chimney stands, walking towards her. “I’m sure he has his reasons,” he tells her, “he didn’t answer his phone until – what? Three? Maybe he was busy.”

“Too busy to answer a text?” She pokes his chest, huffing. “Too busy to get his ass over here and learn that he’s about to be an uncle?”

“Well, you didn’t tell him he was going to be an uncle in the text so he probably didn’t think it was that urgent.”

She glares, readying another onslaught. Luckily for Chimney they hear the buzzer for his apartment ring. Maddie shoves the rest of the pickle in her mouth, nodding at the door. “Let them in and bring them into the dining room.”

“Anything else, my queen?”

Maddie ignores him, setting at the table with her hands folded. Listens while Chimney speaks into the intercom and lets Buck up. In the minutes between that and Buck arriving, she thinks. About what it felt like seeing both plus signs appear on the pregnancy tests and the cocktail of emotions erupting within like a volcano. Happiness and excitement, but also fear. Worry over whether she was ready, or if she would be a good parent. Memories of her own childhood flooded and distracted Maddie until she broke free from their chains and realized Chimney spoke to her in the living room.

He tried, but in the days that followed Maddie’s party her nerves only shredded further. She needed her brother. And when Maddie mustered the strength and reached out, he kept her waiting.

Anger won out when she laid eyes on him, incised further when she notices Eddie. “Is that why you weren’t answering me? Too busy ‘hanging out’?” The exaggerated quotes make Buck flinch in a way he hadn’t in years. Not since he was a little kid. And she finds herself back in Hershey once more. And Maddie’s doubt in her skill doubles.

“Sorry Maddie,” he says, stepping into the dining room, “time just got away from us and… we came as fast as we could?”

She glances between them, both men with reticent expressions. As quickly as it arrived, the fire inside fizzled into embers. “I’m sorry,” she says, kneading at her temple, “I’ve just been… a little stressed.”

“Stressed, why?”

Chimney answers, “Because of recent developments. Recent developments that we wanted to speak to you about.” He glances at Eddie, frowning. “Eddie…”

Eddie points at the living room, shrugging. “I can wait in there while you talk –“

“No,” Maddie stops him, “no you can join.” She looks at Chimney, smiling. “I don’t see why he shouldn’t be here, right?”

“I guess.”

Buck and Eddie share a cryptid look, slowly sitting across from Maddie and Chimney. Her brother fidgets, tugging on his fingers in the nervous way he would when mom or dad lectured him after landing in trouble. Although why he did it now, Maddie was unsure of. She reached across and grabbed his hand, waiting for when their eyes met to speak. “There’s something we need to tell you.”

His brows scrunch up, “Yeah… I get that.”

“It’s about,” Maddie searches for an entry point, unsure where she should start. “Well… you know at May’s party?” He tenses in his seat. “How we left a little early? That’s because Chimney noticed something and I – I put things together, and we had to go –“

“Maddie I can explain –“

“Because all these signs added up and,” Maddie stops, blinking. She pulls away from Buck, “What?” Buck stares at the table, shoulders hunched high. “Look, I was going to tell you but, well, we know what would’ve happened if this came out so soon after Abby showed up. And the party was the worst place if we wanted to keep this secret, I didn’t mean for it to happen there it just did! We thought it was better to take it at our own pace and – and let people in when we were ready, y’know?”

“Slow down Evan,” Maddie grabs his hands again. Squeezes until he gives her the floor. “What are you talking about?”

He pouts. “I was… you brought me here because you and Chimney saw us, right? At the photo booth?”

“No,” she says, “I wanted you here because I found out I’m pregnant.” Buck chokes, seizing under her grip. “But what are you talking about? Us? You and who else… and why should it involve Abby?”

“You’re pregnant?” he asks, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Buck tries closing his mouth but he cannot force his jaw shut. “I’m… I’m gonna be an uncle?”

“Yes, Buck, you are,” Chimney adds, leaning over the table. “But can we go back? What happened at the photo booth?”

Maddie studies her brother slowly shed his shock. Replaced with cheeks redder than his birthmark, failing at subtlety when glancing at Eddie. Eddie hides his face, Maddie imagining it in a similar state. With nothing there, her attention drifts and latches onto the first clue she finds.

A circular bruise on his neck near his collarbone. There’s no mistaking what it was.

“Oh my God,” she says, “Oh my God!”

Chimney sighs, “What? What is it!”

“Buck. You and Eddie?”

“Buck and Eddie – oh,” He sees them in new light, understanding dawning. “Oh my God, you two are dating!”

Eddie reveals his own ruddy cheeks, hands switching tactics from shielding to squeezing Buck’s shoulder. “And you thought they knew!”

“I, I – uh…” Buck splutters, cornered. He points at Maddie, “You’re pregnant! I think that’s more important!”

“But you and Eddie,” she insists, “you and Eddie!” Maddie laughs, stress from the past few days seeping out of her. “I can’t believe – you and Eddie!”

“Yeah, yeah, me and Eddie…” Buck slumps into his seat, glaring. Clearly uncomfortable with the attention.

She sees where his thoughts drift, though, and tosses a lifeline. “I think it’s great, Evan,” Maddie says. Waits for when their gazes lock again. “Really.”

His stiffness eases the longer they stay like that, until a gooey smile spreads across his face. “Talking about great things,” Buck says, gesturing at her and Chimney, “a baby? You’ll be a mother and – and you have to tell me how it happened.”

“I think you know how it happened, Buck,” Chimney chuckles, “Plus, I think we should be asking that of you two.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, slinging his arm over Buck’s shoulders and pulling him closer. Buck instinctively leaning into Eddie’s side. Maddie pauses, stunned by how well they fit together. Hindsight makes everything obvious but she should have seen this coming. “We can compare stories,” Eddie says, “but since baby trumps new relationship, you two can start.”

Maddie nods, sliding one hand free from Buck’s hold and to Chimney’s. Tangling their fingers together. Uniting their family as they take their next steps into unfamiliar territory. Maddie expects the next nine months will be difficult and taxing. Not only with the baby but working while pregnant and then planning what comes after.

With her family at her side, Maddie feels confident in handling whatever challenge comes her way.

#911 season 3 #911 on fox #athena grant #bobby nash #michael grant #athena x bobby #athena/bobby #evan 'buck' buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buddie fic #buck/eddie #buck x eddie #maddie buckley #howard chimney han #maddie x chimney #maddie/chimney #911 on fox fanfic

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taytayize123 · 4 years ago

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How one night can change your whole life ✨

THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR MGK. So please I ask you fans and mutuals who love him to be kind. I hope you like it. 🙊💞

It had been a fucking shit year and a half for me given, going through health issues, doctors and nurses that truly didn’t give a shit about how you felt about treatment where they’d just throw endless amounts of pills at you when you clearly tell them that you’ve done your research and other people have achieved remission through eating healthy, working out, and keeping anxiety low yet of course they don’t actually care how you feel. You are just there for them to get a buck out of you and keep the chain going. That whole experience had put me into two depressive meltdowns and to seek professional help by gaining a therapist. When I started therapy I began to realize how much resentment I held in about family members and past friends who’ve treated me like shit and i’m done being walked all over. A strained relationship with my mother. A barely existing relationship with my sister. The only person who seems to take interest in hearing me without having overly dramatic reactions is my dad yet, having a sit down conversation with him is hard so often I got left on my own. My solace in life is music and lately it had been one man that I kept going back to when I was feeling defenseless, stressed, not good enough etc. That was Machine Gun Kelly aka Colson Baker I had really taken a liking to Hotel Diablo about a year ago, something about him had intrigued me so much that I needed to hear every song and lyric. While I may have not struggled with poverty or coming from a broken home as he did, I related to his inability to express emotions the way he needed to be okay in life so he then found an outlet to channel all that rage, anger, sadness, sacredness etc into something that was not only powerful but got him out of that life of struggle, yet it also created new issues for him like finding out who his real friends are in life. Anyways, when he rapped or sang it made me say to myself; “Peyton you are gonna be okay.” an actually believing that for the first time in awhile.

While, vibing hard to Kells listening to every album as well as learning all the lyrics by heart. Started to develop favorites of his, my attitude started changing as I dove deeper into his music and overall personality. I began to appreciate how he simply didn’t care if he pissed off people as he was being his true self in the process I began to have the confidence in myself to put up or shut up and really stop letting those around me walk all over me and tell them no when they ask me to do something for them knowing they aren’t ever gonna return the favor or assuming I should do something for them just cause I’m family that’s bullshit. Within, this new feeling that i was experience maybe a little good karma came my way because I had gotten a ticket to his latest tour. It was fate or destiny I swear to god because he sold out in my town in ten minutes flat. It felt like I was rewarding myself for really working on my self but also the angels above putting something positive in my life for the first time in a long time and I was so thankful!

The day was here, October 13th came fast and I was so excited that I was getting this opportunity to see him live and I am stoked. Now, given that my mother asked me to use my car that day, I ended up telling her she could take it but to drop me off early at the venue and I would just chill all day before the concert. It wasn’t an issue, the venue had a hotel on the premise as well as a restaurant, bar, cute outdoor beer gardens and wooden areas to explore. I had chosen to go to the bar and order some lunch and sit up at the bar and read for awhile.

“Hi, yes could I order the cheese burger with tots please.” I ask nicely to the bartender. She pressed the buttons on the order device and smiled back at me. “Of course. Your order should be up in a minute hun.” she said in a pleasant tone and walked off. I had put my purse up on the counter and dug out my book which happened to be a book about Jimi Hendrix and his life. I’ve always been drawn to musical types I guess, my want for caring for those who struggle and need support somehow has always been attached to people I find interesting. “Here you go love,” the bartender places down my order and my drink as I thank her nicely and turn my page popping a tot into my mouth getting lost in the words yet it stops when I hear

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

I don’t even look up from my book, and nod happily. As I pick up my drink to take a sip I look up and see him. Machine Gun Kelly sitting next to me. My heart started beating a thousand times a minute but my brain tells my body to PLAY IT COOL. As I smile at him he smiles back, Hi. I’m Colson, what’s your name? and what are you reading?” he asks me peeking at my book. “It’s a book about Jimi Hendrix. I am really big into music and just find people who do something in the music field interesting plus he was one of the best guitarists in the world. I’m Peyton nice to meet you.” I say, slowly swallowing still trying to keep my voice even yet on the inside I was FREAKING OUT rightfully so I think. He grins at me as his order arrives, “Yeah, he was an inspiration to me to start playing guitar.” he says picking up his burger and taking a bit. He puts it back down. Noticing a bit of ketchup on his chin I let out a little giggle as I hand him a napkin. He lets out a boastful laugh, “Oh thanks hun, damn where are my manners eating like a savage in front of a pretty girl like yourself.” I look down at the floor. “Nah, I’m not pretty I’m sure you’ve met prettier girls than me.” I say, my happy upbeat tone dropping to one of unsure and self doubt. Still looking at the floor, as I feel fingertips on my chin. He brings my face up to look at his. “Peyton, you are pretty, even beautiful there’s something so real and authentic in your eyes and that is true beauty.” he spoke with such a low but meaningful expression. Staring into those kind blue eyes of his as he is looking back at mine an explosion of a unnameable feeling is spread throughout my whole body. I let out a shy giggle even letting out a short snort, which I snapped back to reality I groaned putting my face in my hands. Colson lets out another sweet chuckle, as he pulls my hands away from my face now holding them in his. “Stop it Peyton, that what you just did was adorable. I have to ask you, will you come back to our backstage area so we can keep talking. There is this pull to you and I can’t figure it out but I need to know more about you. Please.” He spoke with such a gentle tone as his eyes pleaded with mine looking for any hint of a positive answer. I smiled, “Of course, I’ll go with you Colson. Let me pay and we can go.” I said, fishing in my purse for my wallet as I took it out. He already handled the bartender his black amex card and she had cleared the purchase. I stand up in my wedged heels bringing my short 5′3 ass to maybe 5′6, still only coming up to his mid chest looking up at him. “Colson you didn’t have to do that.” I whined, once again Colson cracks another grin looking down at me. “You’re just so adorable. Good thing I don’t mind a bit of whining you’ll learn when to or not.” he smirks at me as he cracks a dirty joke making me laugh again. We turn to leave the restaurant, his hand intertwined with mine. His hands are strong, calloused; years of playing guitar and holding a microphone for hours on end. Fingers wrapping into mine. His other hand firmly placed on the small of my back guiding me which way to go. I thought to myself, as I walked with him; “Whatever will be tonight will be and live life to the fullest.” as the lyrics from his song 27 floored my brain.

“ Yeah, forever young, though, haha Always be those crazy kids running wide-eyed down the boulevard, huh 27.” 💞

#mgk fic #my first time writing him so please be kind! 🙈#I can’t believe I am posting this but I can’t get this story out of my head 🙈💕

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mtltranscripts · 4 years ago

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Season 1: Episode 1-The Curse of Dethklok

Summary: The band is sponsored by coffee and also accidentally maim their chef.

Characters: Dethklok, Jean Pierre,

Special Thanks: @offdensmith for helping out! <3

Pastebin

JEAN PIERRE: I am a gear in the hands of the clock. I fear not my mortality.

NATHAN: Approach us.

JEAN PIERRE: Everything to your liking, my lords?

PICKLES: Are you aware of the fate of our last restaurant helicopter chef?

JEAN PIERRE: His face was-

MURDERFACE: His face was smashed!

JEAN PIERRE: Yes, I know.

TOKI: He slipped his hand and face on the slohovercroft.

SKWISGAAR: Holbercraft...

TOKI: Hov…

SKWISGAAR: Homo...

PICKLES: Hovercraft.

TOKI: Hold me...

SKWISGAAR: [unintelligible attempt at saying hovercraft]

TOKI: [unintelligible attempt at saying hovercraft]

PICKLES: Hovercraft.

SKWISGAAR: [unintelligible attempt at saying hovercraft]

TOKI: [unintelligible attempt at saying hovercraft]

PICKLES: Hovercraft. They’re trying to tell you that a guy got his face smashed in with a hovercraft. That’s what they’re trying to tell you.

JEAN PIERRE: Yes, I know.

TOKI: And then, from the sorrow...fatoo! He blow he brain in.

SKWISGAAR: He blow he brain out.

TOKI: Whatever.

SKWISGAAR: Out.

TOKI: It make a great album cover.

SKWISGAAR: Yeah that-yeah all of our chefs they has died a horrible death. What of that’s do you think?

JEAN PIERRE: I would rather have my brains scooped out with a melon baller, than to miss the opportunity to deliver the various cheese snacks to my beloved Dethklok.

PILOT: Sorry, my lords, we’re chewing through a few thousand doves up here! Don’t worry, these rotors will grind them into paste in no time!

JEAN PIERRE: From the prime minister of Norway. There are several cases. The finest wine-

NATHAN: No! We never drink before a show! Never!

MURDERFACE: Well, I’ll just have a little drink!

TOKI: Me too!

SKWISGAAR: Me too!

PICKLES: Me too!

NATHAN: Me too.

♪ Do anything for Dethklok ♪

♪ Dethklok' Dethklok Dethklok Dethklok ♪

♪ Skwisgaar Skwigelf, taller than a tree ♪

♪ Toki Wartooth, not a bumble bee ♪

♪ William Murderface, Murderface, Murderface ♪

♪ Pickles the Drummer, doodily doo ding dong doodily doodily doo ♪

♪ Nathan Explosion ♪

REPORTER ONE: Live from Batsfjord, Norway, where over 300,000 fans have traveled to the Arctic Circle to see the legendary metal band Dethklok perform just one song.

REPORTER TWO: Surprisingly the song itself is a jingle, a coffee jingle. Never before have so many people travelled so far for such a short song.

REPORTER THREE: A jingle for international coffee moguls, the Duncan Hills Coffee Corporation. Is Dethklok selling out? “No!” says band frontman, Nathan Explosion.

NATHAN: We’re here to make coffee metal. We will make everything metal. Blacker than the blackest black, times infinity.

REPORTER TWO: They’re called pain waivers. Fans are literally signing their life away, releasing Dethklok from any and all liability.

FAN ONE: My eye got tore out and force fed to me at a show. Dethklok rules!

FAN TWO: In London some dude chopped off my fingers and threw ‘em up onstage. Murderface rolled them up and smoked them! Murderface!

REPORTER ONE: Dark clouds have rolled in. Static electricity’s in the air. Wait! Wait! Wait a minute! It's Dethklok! It's Dethklok!

PILOT: Dethklok rolling.

♪ Do you folks like coffee? ♪

♪ Real coffee ♪

♪ From the hills of Colombia? ♪

♪ The Duncan Hills will wake you ♪

♪ From a thousand deaths ♪

♪ A cup of blackened blood ♪

♪ Dying, dying ♪

♪ You’re dying for a cup ♪

♪ Guatemala blend ♪

♪ Ethiopian ♪

♪ French vanilla roast ♪

♪ Dying, dying ♪

♪ You’re dying for a cup ♪

♪ Prepare for the ultimate flavor ♪

♪ You're gonna get some now ♪

♪ And scream for your cream ♪

♪ Duncan Hills, Duncan Hills, Duncan Hills coffee ♪

SENATOR STAMPINGSTON: As you can see, Dethklok is no laughing matter. They’re the world’s greatest cultural force. The short time since the Duncan Hill Coffee Batsfjord Massacrefest, every other coffee company has been obliterated. Completely blown out of the water.

GENERAL CROZIER: Freaks.

SENATOR STAMPINGSTON: These freaks as you call them are currently worth billions. Gentlemen: Skwisgaar Skwigelf, taller than a tree. Toki Wartooth, not a bumblebee. William Murderface, Murderface, Murderface. Pickles the Drummer, doodily doo ding dong doodily doodily doo. Nathan Explosion. I’m afraid that’s all we know, gentlemen.

CARDINAL RAVENWOOD: I will remind you again of the Sumerian artifacts. The resemblance is indisputable.

GENERAL CROZIER: If they’re the ones that we think they are, we should exterminate them immediately.

MISTER SALACIA: No. We wait.

NATHAN: Well, I don’t think all of our employees are cursed!

PICKLES: The chefs. The chefs.

NATHAN: Oh the chefs are cursed, yeah! Yeah.

PICKLES: Yeah.

TOKI: Actually, he’s stills alives. Yeah.

NATHAN: Well I mean he’ll be dead soon. That’s what I meant-that’s what I meant to say.

SKWISGAAR: Oh, come on. He could probably hear that. Oh wait no he can’t ‘cause he ain’t got no ears.

PICKLES: Hold on. It says here that keeping this guy alive is costing us $10,000 a day?

DETHKLOK: [overlapping exclamations]

MURDERFACE: Well here’s an idea. Why don’t we Yankee-doodle-dandy, you know, pull the plug? Kill ‘em!

PICKLES: Let’s just fire him. Look at him. He ain’t cooked a damn thing all day long. Let’s face it, he’s bringing me down.

SKWISGAAR: What is wrong with this dumb dildo, they give all all the free coffee in the world but no instruction on how to cook it!

TOKI: Whew, I might need to take five, six, personal days for all this griefs gonna have to do.

MURDERFACE: Aw, here we go again! You took two personal grieving days last week!

TOKI: Yeah, well, I was depressed about color. Don’t hassle me about thats, deals with thats-

MURDERFACE: You’re depressed?! You’re depressed! I’m fat! I’m the fat one!

TOKI: Come on-

MURDERFACE: Yeah, I’m fat!

SKWISGAAR: Aw, come on, you’re like a male model-

MURDERFACE: We know that! The one good thing about Jean Pierre being dead is that maybe I won’t eat so much, and lose these flabby deth-handles!

TOKI: No!

MURDERFACE: No, I’m fat!

TOKI: Welp, I’m starting to get a hungries, but it looks like we starves.

PICKLES: Well, great. What are we supposed to do now?

TOKI: What’s this place called?

SKWISGAAR: This is I believes called food libraries.

TOKI AND SKWISGAAR: [overlapping saying “Food library”]

PICKLES: It’s called a grocery store, ya douchebags! I’m sorry about “douchebags” I got-I got low blood sugar.

NATHAN: Alright, here’s the deal. We have to do our own shopping so we can make our own dinner like regular jack-offs do. Now you’re all in charge of putting together one dish, and don’t just buy booze! That ain’t food!

MURDERFACE: What do you mean “booze ain’t food?” I’d rather chop off my ding-dong than admit that!

TOKI: You’d rather chop off your ding-dong than not drink?

MURDERFACE: Yeah!

TOKI: Wowee!

MURDERFACE: Hey grandma, is there olives in it?

OLD LADY ONE: In what?

MURDERFACE: Lemon tart wrinkled tits! Geeze!

OLD LADY ONE: Oh!

MURDERFACE: Good! Then it’s pee-pee time!

PICKLES: Hey, chief, this stuff good for soup?

WORKER ONE: No-

PICKLES: Ahh! That’s a yes!

TOKI: Who is walnuts?

SKWISGAAR: Ah, Toki, look inside of your basket. Guess whats you’re in such a crappy mood you have lady’s tampons inside of it and you buy them for yourself! Go have a conversation with all the ladies and tell them your problem!

TOKI: You lady, Skwisgaar!

SKWISGAAR: No I’m not!

NATHAN: Two cups of rice. Brutal.

PICKLES: Okay, hold on now, so you’re telling me that you put these little guys in boiling water and they shriek and they turn red and they die?

WORKER TWO: Yes, sir.

PICKLES: That is the most metal thing I ever heard in my whole life. High five!

NATHAN: Price check! Clean up aisle six! Rotted body landslide!

SWKSIGAAR: Oh that’s greats!

NATHAN: And don’t forget our special sale on every bone broken chicken! Hurry!

SKWISGAAR: Go get ‘em, Nathan!

NATHAN: Enjoy our tasty Hammer Smashed Face! Uh, aisle three!

SKWISGAAR: I loves to laugh. Hi.

OLD LADY TWO: Hi.

SKWISGAAR: Guess what? You are a GMILF. That is a grandmother that I would like to-

PICKLES: See, I told you guys we don’t need no chef!

NATHAN: Put in the ingredients into that thing there.

TOKI: Oh no, we leaves all the food at the food place!

NATHAN: What?!

MURDERFACE: Jean PIerre! Jean Pierre, cook something! Come on don’t be a dick, be a dude!

NATHAN: Yeah, come on!

SKWISGAAR: Yeah be a dude, don’t be a dick!

NATHAN: Make us some food!

DETHKLOK: [overlapping]

PICKLES: He can’t hear you, he can’t hear you! It’s over! By the power of all that is evil, I command you to awaken, and make me a sandwich!

MURDERFACE: There’s only one thing left to do...kill ourselves!

SKWISGAAR: Dudes, we would, like, have to sew him back together to get him to cook for us!

TOKI: Yeah, but we such screw ups that he would be sewn back together wrong.

NATHAN: Whoa! That's a good song title.

♪ Sewn back together wrong ♪

♪ Back together Sewn back together wrong ♪

♪ Back together sewn ♪

#Metalocalypse #Season 1 #Season 1 Episode 1 #Curse of Dethklok #Character: Nathan Explosion #Character: Pierre Jean #Character: Pickles the Drummer #Character: Toki Wartooth #Character: William Murderface #Character: Skwisgaar Skwigelf #Song: Duncan Hills Coffee Jingle #Unreleased Song: Sewn Back Together

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k-llama-llama · 5 years ago

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The Female Monsta

Monsta X AU: 8th member

Zoey x Monsta X

Zoey’s album releases

Requests are OPEN and feedback is still super important to me. Remember to check out my PATREON! (link in bio) for exclusive content and 1 extra post a week!!

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“All day, I can’t believe you’ve made us wait all day!” Minhyuk burst through the door of the apartment, dumping his stuff by the door and heading for the TV.

“I told you guys I wanted you to wait. Besides, it’s only been like six hours.”

“SIX HOURS!” Jooheon shoved past her, jumping onto the couch. “Boo Soyoung your debut album came out six hours ago and we haven’t heard it yet.”

“I thought you’d-”

“Don’t argue, we’re being supportive.” Hyungwon patted her on the shoulder.

Shownu grabbed a bag of chips from the kitchen, settling onto the couch. “Play the video.”

Changkyun grabbed his phone from the cupboard where Zoey had stowed them this morning. “I just can’t believe you let Seungcheol watch it and not us.”

“I can’t control everything he does.” Zoey perched herself on the arm of the couch.

“Sure, like I’ll believe th-” Changkyun grabbed Zoey’s one. “Zo.”

“What?” She leaned over, trying to get a look at whatever was on his phone. “What’s wrong?”

He ignored her, shoving the phone in Kihyun’s face. Kihyun’s eyes widened as he grabbed it, staring at the screen.

“What?” Zoey demanded.

Kihyun grinned. “Feral by Zoey is charting number one on the albums chart!”

“Really!” Jooheon exclaimed.

“Are you serious?” Shownu smiled.

“And...” Kihyun typed quickly. “Crazy is number one on the songs chart.”

Zoey rolled her eyes, trying not to look a little smug. “Oh, that? Tori told me earlier.”

“toritoldmeearlier...” Minhyuk frowned at her. “Can we please watch the video because the whole rest of the planet has got to see it.”

“And we were in it.” Hyungwon reminded. “You exploited us.”

“I did.” Zoey agreed. “And yes, you can watch it if you promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?” Jooheon demanded, practically bouncing out of his seat.

She chewed on her pinky nail. “Be nice.”

“We love it, of course we’re going to be nice.” Shownu promised her.

“You haven’t seen it, how do you know you love it?” She smacked his shoulder.

“I just do.” He nodded, biting into a chip. “Pull it up and let’s go.”

Zoey grabbed a pillow off the couch and hugged it to her chest as Changkyun pulled up the youtube video on the TV. And there it was, a thumbnail with the shot of her in the bathtub with flowers around her.

“Zoey...” Jooheon breathed. “It’s scandalous.”

She squeezed her pillow tightly before saying in a small voice. “I’m scandalous.”

“You’d better not be.” Kihyun warned.

“HIT PLAY!” Shownu shouted.

“Okay, okay, here!” Changkyun hit play.

“Oh my god I can’t listen.” Zoey dove off the couch, crawling behind it and covering her head with the pillow.

“I thought you’d-”

“SHUT UP!” Minhyuk smacked Changkyun.

There was a long moment of silence, which Zoey lifted the pillow to hear, as the camera dramatically zoomed into the set. The entire thing was meant to be set in some sort of temple, with her as the goddess of war (the idea had actually been Tori’s), so it opened as the camera revealed Zoey sitting on a throne, a crown of five above her head.

“Zo...” Kihyun breathed.

“YEAH! I’M THE FEMALE MONSTA!” Zoey’s voice broke the silence. “You Know That? Everybody Let’s Get Crazy Right NOW!”

What sounded like a squeak was all that came out of Shownu as the camera cut to the dance scene, revealing Zoey’s favourite (and most revealing outfit) of the video. She turned back under her pillow, only catching snippets of what they said.

“There’s us!”

“Oh my god there’s vocals too?”

“BOO SO-YOUNG!”

When the music finally trailed off, Zoey carefully removed the pillow from her head. She looked up, finding all six boys staring down at her.

“You like it?” She asked nervously.

She was instantly smothered as Jooheon and Changkyun dived over the couch, tackling her in a hug.

“It’s amazing!” Changkyun practically squealed.

“It’s so good, Zo!” Jooheon kissed her on the cheek, before letting her sit up.

“You guys like it?” She asked the others.

“Are you kidding?” Hyungwon gasped. “It’s amazing.”

“Seriously Zo, I thought Wow Thing was good but this is next level.” Minhyuk grinned. “I’m already downloading the whole album.”

She stood from the floor, walking around the couch and dropping herself into Shownu’s lap. “Oppa? You proud of me?”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, giving her a giant hug and pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “I’m so proud of you. But I always am.”

“You’re such a dad.” Hyungwon shook his head.

“And you?” She tilted her head to look at Kihyun. “Not too offended by my outfits?”

He shook his head, holding out his fist. She bumped hers against it, grinning.

“You look and sound amazing Zo.”

“Holy shit.”

“What?” The all turned to Changkyun, who was still on the floor, as he stared at his phone screen.

“Is something wrong?” Zoey asked nervously.

“Just that it looks like you’re about to set the record for Starship views in 24 hours.”

“Oh,” She settled back into Shownu’s side. “That’s cool, I guess. But I don’t really care about views.”

“Yeah, but we do.” Jooheon smacked her in the back of the head. “Because we love you and we’re proud of you.”

Zoey grinned, hiding her face in Shownu’s neck. “I’m happy you like it.”

“We do.” Shownu patted her leg. “But you need to get off.”

“What, why?” She sat up, offended. “I thought you loved me.”

“I do, but I need to get my phone out of my back pocket to post and tell everyone to go check out your music video.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” She slid off his lap and onto the couch.

“And after this, you’re teaching me the choreography.” He grinned at her.

“If you think you can keep up.” She winked.

“Don’t get cocky.” Minhyuk poked her leg. “We need you to stay grounded long enough to write us an album as good as that.”

“Fuck that, I’m going solo now.” She leaned back into the cushions.

“Language!” Kihyun exclaimed.

“If you’re going solo you’re living on the street.” Changkyun informed her. “So give up on that right now.”

“Urgh, fine. I guess I like you guys too much to leave.”

“Good. Now,” Jooheon leaned over, holding out his phone. “Smile, I’m posting a selca of us to prove how happy I am for you.”

Zoey held up a peace sign, smiling happily.

“Your boyfriend text you yet?” Hyungwon asked.

“He texted me exactly three minutes after it came out.” Zoey informed him.

“And what did he think?”

“Ummm...” Zoey turned away as Jooheon leaned back. “You want the PG version?”

“ZOEY!”

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daggerzine · 4 years ago

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Sunday Runners.....the Corvair interview.

The music of Corvair fell into my hands recently thanks to Heather Larimer, who makes up one half of the band. The Portland duo, comprised of Larimer and her husband Brian Naubert (and drummer Eric Eagle for the recordings) haven’t been around for too long but being together a lot the past year or so gave them plenty of time to work on songs. I was a big fan of Larimer’s previous band, Eux Autres, and wondered if they were still around (see the first question) so was anxious to hear Corvair. I really liked what I heard. A healthy dose of all things 1970’s, 80’s and 90’s and not quite new wave, note quite indie rock but 100% deluxe. The S/T record, which was released in February, was a co-release between their own label and WIAIWYA label in the UK. Read on and find out the history of the band, where they’ve been and where they’re headed. Oh and make sure you listen to their music.

Heather and Brian and Brian and Heather

Tell us about the end of Eux Autres. Why did that band end?

It actually has not officially ended. While Sun is Sunk was coming out, we left SF because it felt like that city as we knew it was dying—all the artists we knew were moving out, and I moved back to Portland and Nick to LA. Then I had a baby and then Nick had a baby and then soon we each had another baby. With 4 little kids among us, it became really hard to fly back and forth to work on new material. We tried it for a couple years and then one day we calculated that at our pace, the record we were making would take 5 years. So we just kind of gave each other permission to prioritize other projects. Nick is working on some songs I truly love right now. They’re a real gut punch.

…and about the beginning of Corvair. How/when did the band form?

We had known each other for many years and then we got married three-ish years ago and suddenly neither of us had other musical projects going on. So we kind of shrugged and said, what if we worked together? We would sing in the car or while cooking or whatever so we knew our voices sounded great together. Then it was just a matter of figuring out what sort of project it would be. We went into the studio with a session drummer (Eric Eagle) in late 2019 and then a few months later, the pandemic suddenly gave as a LOT of time to make progress on the tracks. So the creative center of the record was defined in a weird apocalyptic bubble. But it was helpful to have that break with reality as we knew it, because we’ve both made a lot of records, and I suppose that could have somehow blunted our ambition or our edges. But we just hit the “fuck it” button and gave ourselves over to it completely. We were very nervous to mix, because no one else in the world had heard it, and we thought it was great, but we also could have been in a shared hallucination. Really, we’d be the last to know.

The debut....

Who came up with the name? I have always loved those cars.

Brian’s mom drove a Corvair with a hole in the floor. They would drive it on the special outings to the beach, the weekend adventures. So it was a very romantic car, and the name is just very nice to say. It makes you feel good. Both of us had been in bands with names that were a nightmare to tell someone in a crowded club, or really anywhere (Eux Autres and Ruston Mire). You’d have to repeat it 3 times, then explain it, and then they just kind of shrug with pity. We vowed to have a band name anyone could understand the first time.

Did the WIAIWYA label approach you about releasing the record (or co-releasing it)?

John had approached Eux Autres right after our second record and so we did an EP (Strangled Days) with him and then we were on his label ever since. Late last summer, I posted a picture of Brian and I holding the CD Master on my Instagram and John said, what the hell is this? And then I emailed him the record and he wrote right back: “It’s RAD Heather!” I’m not sure if he was making fun of me by saying “rad”--probably, actually. I think I used to say it a lot. But he immediately wanted to put out the record. Nick and I had some really great times in the UK and Europe thanks to John and he has a very devoted audience, so Corvair felt it was a great fit for us.

Is the Pink Room your own studio?

Yes, it is literally a room in our house that is pink. Brian has been making records at home for most of his life, since he was about 14. And despite having done fancier stuff like making studio demos for Columbia several times and recording with Peter Buck in a nice place, he really prefers to work at home because he likes to spend a ton of time on overdubs—they’re not even really “overdubs,” more like a second wave of writing for him. And I had found being in the studio very stressful in the past because I’m not a technically proficient musician and that makes me self-conscious. So I was grateful to be in the privacy of my own home, in my soft pants.

Single from last year

Did the songs on the album come fairly easily or did you feel like you labored over them?

The initial writing of them came very easily and fast. Brian did a couple of 30 day writing challenges where he wrote several songs a day. But then once we laid down the basic tracks, we spent a ton of time building them and experimenting with them. We actually recorded probably twice as many parts as we ended up using. And half of what we did in the mix was kill things. In fact, we cut five totally finished songs from the record.

Tell us about making those videos? Were you freezing?

Consistently very very cold, yes. Ironically, the one in the snow (Green Mean Time) was the warmest because we were properly dressed. But the ocean ones were just brutal. Especially Sunday Runner. The video was Brian’s idea, he had a very specific vision and made it sound all easy: OK, just go down to the beach and dance for 90 seconds. And I was like, huh?!? And then I kept falling down and got absolutely soaked to the bone. When we finished shooting, I couldn’t feel my hands or feet and he was steering me down the beach with his coat wrapped around me and these little kids were staring horrified, like, Mom what’s wrong with that lady?

Prior to the pandemic had you played out live much? Done any tours?

We have never ever played live as Corvair. Which is just wild. We will likely be recording this next album before we even have a line-up for performing. But we are very excited to play together. Likely this fall. Hopefully John will bring us to England soon so we will have a great excuse to get it together.

What are your top 10 desert island discs?

Brian:

David Bowie - Ziggy Stardust

David Bowie - Low

Nada Surf - Let Go

Brian Eno - Another Green World

Pink Floyd - Dark Side of The Moon (yeah I know, but I don’t care)

Heather:

GBV - Alien Lanes

Kinks - Village Green

Elliott Smith - Either/Or

Radiohead - Kid A

Ruston Mire - Steady Jobs and Flying Cars

Who are some of your favorite current bands, local otherwise?

HL: I’m interested in the Dry Cleaning juggernaut. And I really dig Deep Sea Diver, Cloud Nothings, Courtney Barnett, Big Thief/Lenker. And then, I’m also very ready to embrace a new angry band whose music makes you think your stereo is broken when you play it--I’m taking suggestions.

BN: Alt J, Elbow, Doves, Metric, Foals, Snail Mail

What’s next for the band?

HL: We are recording this summer and trying to put some sort of live outfit together ASAP. Trying to stay out of the ocean for a while.

Closing comments? Words of wisdom? Final thoughts?

Thank you so much for having us!

www.corvair.bandcamp.com

youtube

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onestowatch · 4 years ago

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Maggie Lindemann Releases Thrillingly Magnetic Debut EP ‘PARANOIA’ [Q&A]

Rock, alt-pop songstress Maggie Lindemann has finally dropped her debut EP, PARANOIA. The EP is comprised of eight dark and enigmatic tracks that show Maggie coming into her own as an artist with a thrilling alt-rock sound. Having accumulated over a billion streams since she began her career in 2015, the 22-year-old is finally ready to present her highly anticipated first official body of work to the world.

We had the chance to talk with Lindemann about the creative process behind PARANOIA and how she's finally making the music she's always wanted to make.

youtube

In an interview with TMRW mag, you mention that you were a different person growing up in Texas and that you developed into a new and more open-minded person in LA. It feels like since 2015 your music has also transitioned into a very experimental sonic space. Looking back, did you ever think you'd be making the music you're making now?

I've always wanted to make the music I'm making now. When I first started making music, I was making alternative pop, so I knew I always wanted to be in the alternative lane. I never really thought I was gonna be making mainstream pop. So yeah, I've always wanted to make the music I'm making now. At one point, I didn’t it was going to be possible because of how far into the alt world I was. I felt like it would look fake or just wouldn't look good if I randomly transitioned into rock music. But I listened to a lot of pop-punk growing up and this is something I've always really wanted to do.

Who did you listen to from the pop-punk world growing up?

My favorite band hands-down was Sleeping with Sirens. They're still my favorite now, honestly. I also listened to a lot of Black Veil Brides, Alesana, and Bring Me the Horizon. I would even wear this Bring Me the Horizon pendant all the time!

From the singles that have been released so far from the PARANOIA EP, you dove into many themes of loneliness, power, and paranoia. Can we expect similar themes throughout the rest of the EP?

Yeah, I would say so. All of it is pretty much following the theme of paranoia. Each song is a different form of it. "Gaslight" is obviously about that feeling of being gaslighted and wanting to hit them back harder. And with "Knife Under My Pillow," obviously it's about the paranoia I feel having to sleep with a knife under my pillow because I don’t feel comfortable in my own house. So, with the songs that'll come out when the EP drops, it follows that same theme but dives into other feelings you may feel in that headspace. “It's Not Your Fault" is about feeling like you're not enough in a relationship and how you end up self-sabotaging yourself.

So, it's safe to say this is a pretty dark record?

Yeah. I think there's only one kinda different song and that's "Love Songs."

The collaboration with Siiickbrain on "Gaslight" felt like such a great fit for the EP. What was it like working with her and can we expect any more collabs in the future?

She's literally my best friend in real life. I love her music and I think she's so sick. Just everything about her is so sick. I just said to her, "Dude, we should do something," and we immediately got into the studio with Cody [Tarpley] and made this track in literally a couple of hours. It was super quick. She's just so talented and I'm glad we were able to make that song. Hopefully, there will be more in the future. We've already made a couple of songs and she's helped write a couple of songs. We're definitely in the studio a lot together.

Which songs on the EP are you most excited for people to hear that haven't been released yet?

I'm probably most excited for people to hear "Crash and Burn" and "It's Not Your Fault." They're both such high-energy songs and I love when I can belt really high in songs. I put a lot of energy into those songs and I think that's why they're my favorites.

Your lyricism is not personal but extremely relatable. For me, the lyric "It's so loud inside my head," on "Knife Under My Pillow" really spoke to me and I'm sure many people with anxiety can relate. Are there lyrics that still stick with you from the EP?

On "It's Not Your Fault," there's a lot of strong lyrics that really hit me. I wrote that song when I was really struggling with my life. I was like, "Oh my god I'm sabotaging myself. I'm sabotaging my relationship." I felt like I was going crazy. A lot of the lyrics from that song have stuck with me. And I think on “Loner,” one of my favorite lines is, "I don't need permission to feel sad."

You had an amazing team help bring this record to life. You had John Cunningham (Halsey, XXXTENTACION), Josh Murty, and Cody Tarpley (Lauren Jauregui, SoMo) produce the record and you had Alex Lahey and of course Siiickbrain on as co-writers. What was it like to make this record with your team while dealing with COVID? Were some of these songs already recorded before lockdown?

Luckily, a lot of this was already recorded in 2019, which feels like so long ago at this point. I added "Crash and Burn" and "It's Not Your Fault" last year. To avoid multiple people at the studio, it would just be me and Josh or just me and Cody. And for the song I worked on with Caroline [Smith] (aka Siiickbrain), it was just me, Cody, and Caroline. We just worked in really small groups. It's crazy though, I was actually in the studio with Cody when we got the news that we were gonna go into a lockdown and that things would be closing. We freaked out because at the time we didn't know that it meant we could still go pick up food at restaurants, so we were just like, "We need to get home! We need to go to the nearest grocery store right now!" In hindsight, it was a little funny.

What has kept you grounded during lockdown?

I've still been doing sessions, but just over Zoom. I started them last year and I had never done Zoom session before so that's been a weird shift. I'm still just working on the album I want to have come out eventually and playing a lot of video games. Like A LOT of video games. I started streaming on Twitch so that's been fun! I also got a car over lockdown. I've never had my license and I had been saying "I'm gonna get my license" since I was sixteen and I'm twenty-two now so I'm happy I finally have it! It was a huge thing for me because that was my biggest procrastination ever.

When the world finally opens back up, whenever that may be, and live shows return, what would be your dream show or tour post-COVID?

I want to headline a tour so bad. I've done a few tours where I'm a guest or opening up, but I want to do a headlining tour. I want to bring Caroline with me. I feel like that would be amazing. That's what I was planning on doing last year after the EP's initial drop date, but obviously, stuff changed, and everything got pushed back. So yeah, I hope to do a headlining tour when things open back up.

Be sure to stream Maggie Lindemann's debut EP PARANOIA below!

#Maggie Lindemann #PARANOIA #EP #Q&A #Knife Under My Pillow #Loner

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alwaysdowntohidewithyou · 5 years ago

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Florence Welch Interview

Transcript of Florence Welch’s interview with John Seabrook for the New Yorker Festival.

October 11th, 2019.

New York, NY.

Edited for clarity.

John Seabrook: I’m going to properly introduce you because I think a woman this accomplished needs a proper introduction. For those of you who read the New Yorker this week, let me assure you that I wrote this myself, no machine helping me. In ten years as a band, Florence and the Machine have released four chart topping, award winning studio albums. Lungs, 2009, Ceremonials, 2011, How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful, 2015, and High as Hope last year. These many-layered works weave together a range of different styles, from the bands punky first single “Kiss With a Fist,” to the rich choral and percussive tapestries of songs like “Shake It Out,” to Neo-Soul such as “Where Is the Love” (sic), and to the startlingly honest lyrics of “Hunger.” Heartbreak and loneliness rarely feel as delightful and inviting as in a Florence Welch song. The music performs the very rare trick of remaining true to its indie roots while at the same time, sounding expansive and monumental. While British listeners sometimes look to Kate Bush as a musical antecedent, here in New York, we are maybe more inclined to think of Patti Smith, in her path-finding career as a poet who found a way to address the big issues of literature, death, love loneliness, and beauty in the idiom popular song. And we are especially inclined to think of you as following Patti tonight because you are literally sitting in the seat that Patti was warming only an hour ago.

The band has also released two live albums that established themselves as major festival headliners, with a sound big enough to fill the green fields of Glastonbury and deserts of Coachella—where the artist broke her foot performing in 2015. With lyrics intimate enough to touch each individual heart in the crowd of 100,000, Florence lent her extraordinary vocal talents to Calvin Harris’ “Sweet Nothing,” and her eye for clothes and visual imagery to the band’s 29 music videos. She has also recorded several outstanding covers including “Stand By Me,” “Tiny Dancer,” and Buddy Holly’s “Not Fade Away.” And finally, and most relevant to the discussion tonight, Florence is the author of this book, “Useless Magic,” which is a 2018 collection of her lyrics, poems, journal entries, and sketches, which will serve as our primary text for this evening. Here ends the introduction.

Florence Welch: (Laughs) Thank you so much for having me. Oh, British people find it really hard to hear the things that they’ve done.

J: I know, you’re so modest. It’s hard to hear all that.

F: Everyone’s cheering and I’m like, “Oh no.” This is my nightmare.

J: Let’s take a deep breath and not talk about your accomplishments any more.

F: Okay, good. That’s done, that’s done. (Laughs)

J: Let’s talk about—you’re on a bit of a hiatus at the present from touring. Can we start there? Talk about how that happened, where that came from.

F: Yeah, of course. Well, I definitely wanted to do the New Yorker, because I love the New Yorker so much. So, this was the last thing that I said yes to. I’m very glad I did, you guys are very loud! Yeah, the last—well, I’ve been touring, oh my gosh, I’ve been touring since I was twenty-one? And it is kind of a cycle of two years of—actually we did not stop touring between Lungs and Ceremonials, because we booked a U2 tour somewhere in the middle when we were supposed to be making the next record, and they were like, “You’ve got to do this. This is pretty big.” Like, oh. Okay. And you know, that was a big thing that helped get us going in America. But I was trying to make Ceremonials as well, so yeah, Lungs and Ceremonials was just sort of one—ugh, I don’t know how long that was. Like five years of touring?

And then I had a break. And it was also kind of a breakdown (laughs). Which is what happens when you don’t stop touring for five years. But actually, I don’t know. I don’t think that was because of the touring, I think it was then when the touring stopped, all the structures that I’d been using...with touring you’re kind of very taken care of, so you can be quite a high functioning fuck-up, which is what I was. Very high functioning, but so self-destructive and with such a lack of any will to take care of myself. People take care of you on tour. Like, if you show up and do the show, people get you dressed, and you ripped all your clothes, and they’ll carry you to a plane. The thing is that I never messed up any shows, which was weird. Like I would mess up hotel rooms, and my whole life, and my relationships, and blah blah blah. But never the shows, so, I don’t know what that was about (laughs).

Then I went back on tour for How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful, after my break slash breakdown, and that was the first tour that I’d done sober and...yeah, it was amazing. The whole process of that record and kind of how heartbroken I was not just over a relationship, but also the breakdown of my relationship with partying and how those things that I thought defined me didn’t work anymore.

And this person really didn’t want to go out with me. Which now, in hindsight, I really don’t blame them for because I don’t know if you want to date someone who shows up at your house with a bottle of vodka shouting, “Why will you not go out with me?” And they’re like, “Because of this. All of this.” And I’m like, “I don’t understand!” Now I kind of really respect them for that. Like, “Oh wow, ‘cause like you had a sense of self, and you had self-respect, I get it!” But yeah, How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful, was a huge healing process, and when I came to the end of it, I did this thing where I dove straight into making High as Hope. I think I’m a person who works in extremes, so again, I didn’t stop working for...I just didn’t stop. I don’t know how to relax. I think that’s probably clear, so I started making High as Hope immediately and that meant that the next tour came around really fast. Although I would say that these shows that I’ve just done have been my favorite I’ve ever done, I loved them.

J: Where were they?

F: Well, all over the world. They were in loads of different places. But it was again, like a year and a half of travel and I’m not a natural traveler. Like I’m not—

J: You don’t like flying I think? F: Oh my god, I’m so scared of flying. It’s the worst! I had hypnotism on it and it wore off (laughs). Nobody told me that hypnotism wears off! Or I just think my anxiety is so powerful that it destroyed the hypnotism. It like, defeated it. I remember reading that the lead singer of The Liars is also really afraid of flying. I think it could be a lead singer thing as well, ‘cause you think that you are the center of the universe and if something really dramatic and catastrophic is going to happen, it should happen to you. So I think there’s a level of ego involved with the fear of flying that I’m hoping in time, I will dismantle.

I find travel in itself, and being away—especially without kind of the crutch of, you know, partying—I get lonely and it’s hard. Although I love the shows and performing, it’s such a big part of me, I...after this tour, I was just worn out by the travel. I was like, I just need to not get on planes for awhile, and I really need to just stay in one place, and try and be like, a human, because although performing runs in my veins, touring is so monotonous, and it starts to feel like you’re losing your mind—and I don’t have much left to lose. So I need it.

J: And there really isn’t any better way to do it probably, right?

F: I keep wondering. I was like, to my manager, “I’m thirty-three, I can’t sleep on a bus anymore!” She’s like, “This is how it is.” You know, I keep trying to think of ways to make it more holistic, but we’ve tried everything and there’s just no getting around the travel because people want to see you, and I’m so lucky to have the fan base in so many places that I do, and I appreciate people and I want to see them. But it means you’re going to have to sleep on a moving vehicle. Which is fucking weird (laughs). When you’re not passed out drunk it’s weird.

J: It’s not like, you curl up in your bunk and the bus takes off and you wake up in the next place the next morning?

F: I don’t know, my brain is so juttery anyway, like sleeping on something that is juttery is a nightmare for me. When I’m trying to sleep on a bus, I’m already someone who tends to get really stuck in their head, and my head is a place that rattles around, so to be in the actual physical representation of that every night, is like a nightmare. I’ve always had a hard time sleeping since I was a kid, and I’m a really light sleeper, always kind of dreaming. I don’t know if I ever get that deep, so yeah. Some things are easier when you can just pass out drunk.

J: Right. We’ll get to that part. Let’s jump back to the beginning of your career. We’re talking about a decade here, so it’s really not a great deal of time but you hit the ground running. I thought we would sort of go through your life by talking about a few songs and your professional life. We’re gonna start with “Dog Days Are Over,” which isn’t the first single I think from the album. I think—

F: “Kiss With a Fist,” yeah.

J: In a way, this is the second single, but perhaps ultimately the bigger hit from the album. I’m not sure, but I feel like this is a song where you first discovered your sound? Or at least for me, I feel like this is where I first heard your sound. Maybe for a lot of us. So I wondered if you could talk about how this song happened, and the lyrics are up here. We can talk about a few of those too. But talk a little, generally, about where this song came from, and how it fit into what work you’d been doing at the time.

F: Ehm, what was I doing? I think I was still at art college, and I—or maybe I’d dropped out?

J: You were at Camberwell College of the Arts, for one year.

F: I wasn’t a very committed art student. I made a lot of installations. I already loved patterns and fabrics and fake flowers and I’d make these big installations, and then kind of sleep in them, and pretend it was an art piece—I was just really hungover. Like, “It’s art! It’s definitely art. Don’t touch it!” I was making flyers for the first Florence and the Machine shows using the photocopier. So I’m sorry for the use of supplies and then not handing anything in.

I’d met Isa of “Isa Machine” fame. She is amazing and we kind of grew up together. She used to babysit my cousin, and then we kind of lost touch. So in South London, for awhile there was a big art collective that squatted the buildings that I lived really near, so when I was a teenager I used to break into all the squat parties, and they would bring all these christmas trees, and everyone would be wearing like, bin bags and crazy outfits, and I was like, “Oh I found them! I found my people!” I was at one of those parties and Isa was there. She was the DJ. She called herself “Laydee Isa,” but it had like seven E’s and seven Z’s. She was like “Oh, I used to babysit your cousin!” And I was like, “Heeey!” I was kind of out of it, I think. She said she had a studio, and that I should come down and make a song.

At the time, there were so many boys in bands. It was around that time of The Libertines, and The White Stripes, and The Strokes—it was a very band oriented time. So I had been writing some songs but because everything was on guitar, and I didn’t know how to play guitar, I just assumed that I would be a singer in someone else’s band, or I’d be a front-woman. I think there was a kind of internalized self-doubt as well. I know I’m not a trained musician. I didn’t have the attention span to sit and learn the piano, or the focus. I was good at singing. I think my attention span doesn’t work...I was like, “I’m already good at this thing.” I could never focus enough to properly learn, which I really regret, actually. I really regret that. So I didn’t have the sort of—I didn’t have the idea that I could make my own band basically. I thought I would be a front-person for someone else’s, but then I started writing songs, and there were so many guitarists about, and that’s how I wrote “Kiss With a Fist.”

They were kind of little gothic fairytales. There’s so much guilt and drama involved—I don’t know what I was. It was kind of like, I think I was already trying to process...I just think from an early age, I felt so much shame, and I don’t really know why. I don’t know where that came from. I think those songs were a way of trying to process what I felt was wrong about me, and through these metaphors—like, this idea that you’d done something terrible, but a bird has seen you do it. So you get the bird, and kill the bird and you eat it so that it can’t tell anybody what you did. I don’t know what the fuck I was doing. But then, you go to sleep, and you’re like, “It’s fine, I got the guy, I’m good.” But when you wake up, you try to speak, and all that comes out of your mouth is the bird singing what you did, and that’s the only thing you can say—which is so dark for a nineteen year old. I think I was just snogging people I wasn’t supposed to or something. But even before, I always felt sort of sensitive as a kid, and I don’t know. I felt like other people had a ticket to kind of get through life that I didn’t know. And how did you get that thing? And everyone seems to have a map, and I don’t. I think these songs were a way of trying to express through these little metaphors how it felt. I was already really obsessed with death in the way that you are as a teenager, and kind of imagining my own funeral all the time. I put these songs with guitars, ‘cause that’s what was around, so that would be like “Birdsong,” in which I wrote with Dev Hynes of Blood Orange. ‘Cause there were so many musicians about—like Kid Harpoon was around, Dev was playing with the Test Icicles at the time, and you could kind of play with anyone. Me and Dev were just sitting in the top room of a pub, and we kind of came up with that song just before we did a show together. That’s kind of how I would make the songs with whoever was around. Isa was sort of the first person who gave me the instrument, who was like, “Why don’t you just try and do something on this?” We called it the “shit keyboard,” it cost like 100 pounds, it was a Yamaha. It burned in a fire!

J: Before or after you used it?

F: After! It burned in a fire. She was the first person who—I think as well because she was another young woman, I think, as a female songwriter...I don’t know if this comes from, like—I had to kind of unlearn deference. I had to really stop deferring. That’s something that’s quite hard, especially when most of the people I was writing with were male. I was instinctively deferring because I was a young woman. I think with Isa, we were kind of the same age, and we kind of bossed each other around! There wasn’t any sort of power imbalance or anything. So she handed me this keyboard and she’s like, “Just do what you want.” The first song that I actually wrote, which you can tell because it’s just an ascending scale, was “Between Two Lungs,” and that was kind of the first thing that sort of felt like it really came truly from me. I was so excited by that, then that the next song we wrote was “Dog Days.” That was like, the first two. They’re not the most complicated chords, but because I never fucking played anything, I thought they were amazing! I was just like, “I’m making this sound? Can you hear this?” Like yeah, it’s fucking piano. It makes that sound for everybody. But because I was the one getting to put them in order and stuff, I just thought like, “This sounds incredible.” She only had like a little...it was in Crystal Palace, which is in South London, we didn’t really have any equipment. We stole drums from someone. The sound of the drums—which I now realize is the same beat as “People Have the Power” (Claps hands to “Dog Days'' percussive rhythm). Which is what we were doing in Patti’s show. We used pens and stuff, and it was kind of, the feeling of that song just came from a lot of enthusiasm, but not really any skill or equipment. So, that’s how it came about.

J: Can I ask you a little bit about the words in the song? “Happiness hit her like a train on a track,” and then later, “happiness hits her like a bullet in the back.” Is it happiness that’s chasing her here? Because it sounds like a celebratory song. Like, the dog days are over and now we’re gonna have some fun! But then it seems like happiness is the thing that’s after her.

F: Well it kind of always was in my mind because I would have such extreme feelings of joy but then I would end up staying out for like three days, so the happiness would always come back down to just terror and panic. I also think that my joy and excitement switch is very close to my panic switch, and I sometimes I don’t know which one is going to go. I think somehow I also equated—I was very mistrustful of happiness, and I think already by the time I was writing the song, I was a very messy person. Not like, untidy, but kind of messy emotionally. I think I’d already done quite a lot of damage to myself and others by that time. We start young in England. By the time I wrote this song, I think I was already, like...yeah, happiness hit her, like a bullet in the back, struck from a great height, by someone who should’ve known better than that. It was sort of like, I didn’t deserve this. You should know better, and I also knew I wanted to be a singer and a performer, and there is this sense that you’ve been struck from a great height, but you are the fucking wrong person (laughs).

J: Huh… okay (laughs). Let’s go from there into writing songs versus writing poetry, because the book is mainly songs, but actually there are poems in the back, and the preface has this interesting line, which I will read. “The act of singing gives the most mundane words and phrases reverence and glory, you can make a shrine out of anything.” I was just wondering, are there certain poems that don’t become songs, and why? Is there something that makes it a song, and something that makes it a poem?

F: I think the first things that I ever started writing when I was a kid was poetry. I mean it wasn’t good, but when I was seven or eight, I was writing poetry. Then I think when I started to think about actually writing my own poetry—like High as Hope is actually an album formed out of poems to begin with. It was a friend of mine called Robert Montgomery who was...he’s a poet, but also a visual artist, and he takes his poems and he turns them into big art pieces with neon lights, and he had said to me, “I think you’re a poet, and I think you should try and write some poetry.” So with that encouragement, I was like, “Okay, okay. I’ll try.” The first thing that I wrote, that wasn’t consciously in mind as a song, but it was a poem, was just a list of things that I thought I couldn’t put into a song.

J: That’s in here! That’s very interesting.

F: Yeah, it’s about getting kicked out of Topshop for drinking Rosé in the changing rooms. I was like, “I don’t know. It doesn’t sing well. So I guess it’s going here.”

J: But you also said in this poem that is not a song, “I’m not sure I can put these things into a song, these muddy trinkets, not beautiful enough. Too bloody and ragged. I always felt the songs should transcend the swamp.” F: Yeah, I think there was a way that I could use metaphor and my imagination to kind of beautify the things that had happened to me, or that I’d done, and in a way kind of own them. Like, when I talk about giving things reverence, I never wanted to actually have the songs written down because I thought that if you saw how sometimes ordinary some of the words are—like the word “kitchen sink” is in “Dog Days,” but when you’re singing something you’re turning it into a hymn almost. You’re giving it a spiritual quality, so I was worried that if the songs were written down, they would maybe lose that. So when I was writing, and I know it’s a song, I feel as if there’s a character or something that’s coming through me that’s bigger than me, and has very big ideas. It’s quite clear on things, kind of understands the bigger questions and I just have to let it happen. So when I was writing poetry, it was a different voice, and it felt like it was almost an even more personal voice because these things were just going to stay on the page. They weren’t going to be viewed with the grandeur of song. They were just going to live there, and who is that person? The drunk Topshop person?

J: You even talked about that—“This new voice, this me voice, is it conversational? Confessional?” Actually there is a poem (New York Poem (for Polly)) I put up here. This is one of the poems from the book. It’s a beautiful poem and it also has your parents and New York in it. So I thought it would give us a jumping off point for your parents. Your mother and father both appear in several of your songs, and have been part of your life. Your mother is a renaissance scholar...

F: Yeah, she is. She’s very smart.

J: And what’s her focus? What’s her specialty?

F: Her focus is the renaissance, above all else. I think even in our childhood her focus was definitely the renaissance (laughs). She’s written four or five books on renaissance studies. It’s funny, she’s always having...she’s always horrified by my exquisitiveness (sic), and how much I love clothes, and bags. But I’m like, “You write books on renaissance shopping, and when we go to museums, I have to stop you from touching things. You love stuff too! Just stuff in the past.” So she’s very interested in what people wore, and textiles, and how people shopped, so she’s read a lot of books about that. And I love shopping too, mom!

J: Didn’t she say to you, when you said you could remember every single outfit you wore, “What a horrible waste of a brain?”

F: (Laughs). I was like, “Oh, you know how I remember things mom? I remember things by what outfit I wore.” She went, “Oh what a waste of your brain.” I was dyslexic as a kid, and she’s worked so hard to get into the upper echelons of academia, and she just keeps getting more and more titles that I can’t even remember now.

J: She’s a provost.

F: Oh, she’s a provost! She’s a provost, yeah, but it just keeps going up. So I don’t know—

J: Dean?

F: No, she’s been that, yup. But I think it’s higher now.

J: So what’s next, chancellor?

F: I think that’s next! But she’s such an impressive person; she would tell me that when I was a baby she was trying to finish papers, or finish books, and she would rest me on a photocopier—it seems like me and my mum both love photocopiers. She just kept working, but I think...none of her children went into academia, and she’s a huge advocate for higher education. That was something that...I was really dyslexic when I was in school, and I couldn’t spell and I struggled at school. I mean, I still don’t think I can do my times tables. Numbers is like a foreign language to me. She’s very staunch; she’s so within herself. She’s incredibly strong, she’s been through so much. I always felt like I was unacademic, emotional, and creative, and sometimes she would look at me as if she had given birth to an octopus. Like, “What is this thing?” I always really looked up to her though, for her drive and her work ethic, and how much she...we’re both very hard workers, I think. I definitely got that from her. And obviously her love of the renaissance has affected me (laughs).

J: And your father comes from, well a journalism family, right? His father was the editor of The Spectator?

F: He was the editor of The Telegraph. I think maybe and The Spectator. I think maybe both, yeah.

J: Okay. And he was a frustrated writer? Or a wishy was-writer, became an advertising guy?

F: Yeah, I think my father is incredibly charming and charismatic and he should have been a performer, really. He is a sort of poet as well, and he was always so imaginative, and would tell me stories when I was a kid that he would then...he was like, “I’m writing a book now!” He moved to Russia when I was fourteen to write a Russian crime novel that my mother tries to pin all my therapy on. Like, I think there’s other stuff. Like not just Dad moving to Russia to write a spy novel, I think there’s other things at play.

J: Did that in fact have a big effect on you?

F: I don’t think it was just that (laughs). I think she’s deflecting slightly. He’s a really creative person and actually he was much more encouraging of me going into the arts. My mother was so desperate for me to go to university. She just didn’t see music. She saw music as a dangerous career, it wasn’t a “forever” career, she was worried I was going to get hurt. She was like, “Get a degree, get some stability, and then do your music thing.” She would, every time I got paid, be like, “It’s not forever money. Put that away.”

But my father, he was always—I mean they’re divorced, so they were like two sides of, you know—they had very different opinions about lots of things. So they didn’t work together. He’s a true bohemian at heart, and he tour-managed us for our whole tour that we did with MGMT around Europe, and England. He did it in his camper-van! MGMT offered us this tour, and it was the first tour we’d ever got. It was a huge break for us actually. We didn’t have any money, and we couldn’t afford a tour bus, so my dad took his sundance camper-van, and we drove all the way around Europe! I mean, MGMT are out there, but I think they thought we were really crazy. So we would just show up there, pots and pans clanking, like, “We’re here!” The first show we did—I mean, I did the show as an early, pre-Lungs era shows where I’d be wearing one of Rob’s t-shirts, drunk and screaming and that was the show. It was excellent (laughs). Then I fell off some speaker stacks. We all had to share a dressing room, as well. That was really cute. Then MGMT came off stage after that show, and they all came off stage, and they’re all like, “Oh my god. The ghost Andy Worhol was in the fucking audience.” Then my dad walked in.

J: Oh, that was your dad? F: It was my dad! Because he had this grey hair, and he kind of dressed as an Andy Worhol, and was right up front. I was like, “Yeah, this is my father, who is managing us.” Then I moved from the tour bus, and then I brought my girlfriend on tour with me. I was like, “Yeah, just come with us!” We got banned from MGMT’s tour bus for being a bad influence (laughs). Which, if you know MGMT, that’s a big achievement.

J: Yeah, that’s a big achievement. Congratulations! Well that gets me into the next subject, which is drinking. Which we both have in common.

F: (Laughs) J: So after the success of Lungs, you were thrown into the world of success and fashion. In particular, you became a darling of fashion. You did the costume ball—anyway, when you read your interviews from that time, you bragfully...in interviews you’re falling apart! You’re drinking at your hotel—you set your hotel room at the Bowery hotel on fire? But the bar bill was more than the hotel damage cost!

F: Yeah, it is (laughs).

J: Anyway, I guess it’s not surprising that with this life came drinking, but it got to a point where it was not manageable.

F: Yeah, I remember waking up and I mean, when you wake up and there’s a huge flame mark on the side of your room, but you’ve been asleep in that room, and you’ve got to figure out where it came from, you’re like, “Was there a fire? And I slept through it? Dope.” Like that is really...I called my publicist at the time, and was like, “Something’s happened!” He was like, “Oh my god, yes, ‘cause there’s a huge bill on my credit card.” I was like, “I think it was the fire.” That was the bar tab. The fire was cheaper than the bar tab.

It was hard. I’ve grown up in South London, and that whole scene is like punk on a pirate ship, it’s sort of pirate folk, and everyone fends for themselves, and the whole gig is like an extended drinking game where you just have to play in the middle. And the game carries on. It was just like an interlude. That is the scene that I grew up in, and I was kind of insecure, I think, about singing pop music.

J: In your family? F: Just in general, and I kind of thought as a way to subvert that, I would just party the hardest. I think as it was a very kind of male dominated scene—like the indie scene that I came up in—it was also a way to kind of outdo everyone. I was very proud of the fact that I could drink as much—and more—than all of the guys. I was the only woman on the first NME tour, and we were opening and they were fucking terrified of me. I think I came into the second show with a black eye, dressed as a bat, jumping off things. I think that’s kind of what I understood, that that was rock and roll, and if you couldn’t go the hardest, you were letting rock and roll down. You were letting these legendary people down.

I was someone who struggled with hangovers, just because I could go...I had insane endurance, but also people would come up to me who I thought were the craziest drinkers and drug-takers I’d ever met, and be like, “Woah. You go harder than anyone I’ve ever met!” I was like, “Oh my god.” But I’ve always had a lot of energy, but I think really why I would stay out for so long is my...you know that sense of shame I spoke about in the beginning? That was there before any of the drinking and the drugs. I already had that. Then to escape that, you know, it would give me an escape from that, but the things I did, or the things I would say, or the way I would treat people just confirmed the way that I felt as a kid. It was just like, you are bad. There is something wrong with you, and then I would carry on trying to escape it in that way, but it would just keep getting worse.

My psyche is pretty fragile; I’m not actually someone who should have a lot of stimulants. They gave me a vitamin shot today, and I’m like, “I’m fucked. I’m high on vitamins! I’m going to have to go to hospital for vitamin overdose!” That’s from a b12 shot. So I don’t know what I thought I was doing when I was partying. Some people are tough, I’m kind of a fragile person. I have a fragile sense of self. The hangovers that I had didn’t seem normal, they were like, “I’m dying. I can’t think, I can’t breathe, like I feel like my skin is—” Maybe it’s ‘cause I drank more than everyone else? I don’t know, but it’s a particular quality that was telling me this does not work for me, but I kept doing it, again and again, and it was always the same feeling. You’ve been doing that in whatever way since you were fourteen, and by the time you get to 27, it’s just—ugh. I didn’t want to feel that way anymore, and it was so repetitive. At some point, the fun bit had gone. As much as I tried to get it back, I just couldn’t. When the fun goes, I’m sorry to tell you if any of you are umming and ahhing, it does not come back. The first year that I stopped, I felt like I’d really lost a really big part of who I was, and how I understood myself. I also felt like I was letting down rock and roll history ‘cause I couldn’t cope. I had to kind of rebuild from scratch a little bit. The thing is that now, I don’t know, it’s almost like the idea of rock and roll that we had...we’ve seen it so many times, it doesn’t end well. I don’t want to be part of that story. J: The 27 year old story.

F: Yeah, I was 27 when I stopped and my mum, literally the speech she gave at my party, where I’d arrived already out of my mind drunk; like I was on the table and she was trying to make a speech. She was like, “Please, just keep her alive. Please.” I laughed about it at the time, but if I think about it now it makes me feel so sad for my mum and how scared she must have been. I feel like at that point there’s...this poem is kind of about that, because I felt like there was a split, there is the person who carried on partying, and didn’t come back. So there’s this ghost version of me. Then there was the person who got to carry on living, and doing the things that I’ve done. It really feels much more rock and roll than anything I ever did when I was drinking. I was doing shows, and connecting with people, and that to me—especially with everything going on in the world—to be conscious and to be present and to really feel what’s going on, even though it’s painful, it feels much more like a truly reborn spirit of rock and roll. It feels like that’s what it should be about right now.

J: The last album was sober, and this song is a remarkable song. It’s maybe not specifically about drinking, but it’s confessional nature I think is what’s a part of whatever transformation you went through. So could you have written [Hunger] as a drinking person? Or do you feel something changed in your songwriting?

F: Oh my god, no. I could have never, ever. I don’t think I could have written this song. I couldn’t have even written this for How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful. In the recording of How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful, I was sober but a lot of the songs weren’t sober because I’d written them when I was drinking, so it was like trying to pull things that were just a big mess. Like, “Okay.” I was in a terrible state. In your first year of your sobriety you’re just insane. So I definitely couldn’t have written it then, but sort of four years down the line, what started to happen was I decided to see underneath—’cause when you’re out there drinking there’s so much surface chaos. You literally can’t see beyond what you did last night as you’re trying to clean that up, and make sure nobody finds out what happened, and who saw? And was there a camera phone? You’re just living in this constant...you can’t ever get any further than the drama that just happened yesterday. So after some time, and some time getting to re-know myself, I started looking at the stuff that was underneath that, that was at the core of it. That’s when I felt able to write this song. I think also I just wasn’t so ashamed of myself at the time. When you’re drinking like I was, you carry around so much shame, and so much of that has lifted that I felt able to say and be honest about things that I just never, ever would have.

When I was really in disordered eating, I would make pacts to myself every night that I will never tell anyone. That was the thing. You can carry on what you’re doing, but you can never tell. Living with that kind of—

J: You kept that promise, because I think when your sister saw this song, she read the first lines, and said she never knew.

F: No, she didn’t. Like, my mum didn’t know. My sister was like, “You better tell mom. You’re putting this out as a big pop song.” I was terrified. I was so scared. I luckily had really good people around. I had my manager, Hannah Giannoulis; she heard this song, and she… I was doing it as a thought experiment. I was never going to release it. I was like, “This is an experiment. This is not for public consumption.” And she heard it, and was like, “This is a really important song.” I was really scared. I was so scared of anger. I’m really bad with anger anyway, but I think it’s because I have so many years of internalized anger against myself for what I was doing, or the way I was behaving that to say it, I expected anger. I expected people to be furious with me for putting something like this out there in a song. I tried to put it off, I pushed back the whole touring schedule. Actually when it was released, people were so kind. I don’t think I gave people enough credit. It was so liberating and it changed me as a performer actually, because once you’ve said your most shameful thing, it’s almost like you’ve got nothing left to lose. So the performances just became so much more open and free, and also when the people who listen to your music accept you at your worst, it is the most beautiful thing. I felt so connected with people on this tour. I’m so grateful to everyone.

#florence welch #florence + the machine #fatm #edited for clarity aka removing florence's adorable rambling that she always does while she collects her thoughts #i love this interview so so much but the quality is pretty poor and therefore pretty inaccessible to non-fluent engl speakers and hoh people #so i put my typing skills to work #if there are any other interviews you'd like transcribed let me know!#this is how i'm putting off writing oof oof oof #also really cant tell if she's saying mom or mum? it sounds like when shes referring to her she says mum #but then if shes speaking to her its mom

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kyleknight · 4 years ago

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Apples and Cloves

October Writing Challenge Day 3 project: midnight verse (that nickle au I wrote last year) content: kyle knight/nick jonas, december’s tragedy au warnings: none, it’s just soft nickle :3 an: I have so many nickle aus now but this one is still one of my absolute favorites. I love it so much.

Every time Kyle calls Nick, he gets butterflies in his chest. The good kind of butterflies— the ones that flit around his heart with nerves and excitement and glee upon hearing Nick’s soft “hey Kyle” greeting.

It’s been over a month since… since Halloween. Since everything happened with Midnight and despite all that, Nick still asked to date Kyle. Things have been good, but a bit crazy. A lot has happened all at once. Alexis became Brandon’s official replacement, Kyle wrote a ton of new songs, and Steve paid for a few days of studio time so they could speed-record the album. It’s good. Kyle is really proud of it.

Today, the band, plus Awsten and Jawn, are in the middle of filming a video for Soap Bubbles and Birthday Wishes. Right now, they’re taking a brief break for lunch. Asher and Scott left a few minutes ago to pick up tacos and burritos from Taco Wiz. Alexis and Otto are messing with the mannequin that Awsten acquired for the video shoot. Awsten and Jawn are on Awsten’s laptop, fussing with what they’ve filmed so far.

Kyle has moved himself outside of the house they’re using. He sips at a thermos of apple cider— lukewarm now— and waits for the call to connect. Nick is in London right now, but he sent Kyle his schedule in case Kyle wanted to call. Kyle did the time zone conversions three times to make sure he wouldn’t be calling at a bad time.

Nick answers. The screen fills with his beautiful face, and Kyle’s butterflies expand in his chest. He’s so beautiful, Kyle forgets to say hi for a second.

“You look good today, Kyle,” Nick says.

He looks good? He’s just wearing what he always wears. Plus a little bit of makeup for the camera. Kyle flounders at the compliment. “Thanks. Uh, you look really good too. How was the interview?”

Nick shrugs. It looks like he’s in a hotel room, so Kyle must have gotten the timing just right. “Not all that great. Old people talking down to us, not asking anything new. You know, same as every other interview. How’s the video coming?”

Kyle smiles and settles more comfortably against the porch of the house. “Probably not as exciting as any of your video shoots. It’s kind of funny, I guess. Awsten borrowed this mannequin from one of his classmates and we’re using it like its… well, okay, it’s actually going to end up being a really weird video. But I guess it’ll be memorable?”

Nick laughs at that. “What are you doing with the mannequin? Didn’t you say the song was a love song?”

“Yeah,” Kyle bites at his lip and looks to the side. “Uh…” How is he supposed to tell Nick that it’s a crushing type of long distance love song he wrote after one of their hours-long phone calls? “You’ll hear it soon, I promise. You still want to wait until we officially release the CD?”

Nick nods seriously. “It’s only another three weeks, right? I’ve got my preorder all set.”

“You preordered it?” Kyle says. “I said I was going to mail you one early!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nick says. “I want to support you. Tell me more about the mannequin. You aren’t going to kiss it, are you? Cause I might get jealous.”

Kyle covers his face with one hand. “No… although Awsten tried to get me to do that. It’s like… ugh. Okay, so we all have these parts where it’s like we’re on little dates with it. Spending time with it. It’s so weird. Thank god we’re also going to film us playing. I think Jawn wants those clips for the chorus. I don’t know, they’re going to work on editing it once we’re done today.”

“Hmm,” Nick says. “Kyle, I can’t believe this is my life now. A mannequin gets to be your boyfriend for the day and he might even kiss you. I have to say, I’m really feeling jealous.”

“He won’t kiss me,” Kyle says, suddenly feeling bold. “You’re the only one who gets to kiss me. You know you’ve got my heart. Just you.”

Oh god that was so cheesy. Also probably too much. They’ve only really known each other for a little over a month, after all. Kyle groans and hides his face again. “Fuck, just forget that, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Nick says. “I’m glad. Glad you like me more than this mysterious mannequin.”

Kyle takes another drink from his thermos just for the sake of not spitting out even more embarrassing statements. The taste of apples and cloves is nice, and would be nicer if it was still warm. It would be nicer still if he was sharing it with Nick. Yeah, that’s exactly the kind of thing he needs to not blurt out without thinking.

Nick lets out a soft sigh. “I miss you. I want to try and visit before you go on tour, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to get away from everything for long enough.”

Kyle holds the phone closer to his face. “It’s okay. You’ll be in LA on the 21st when we’re playing there. That’s only about a month and a half away.”

Nick’s face also comes closer to his screen, so that Kyle has a close up of his eyes and forehead and hair. “That’s too far away.”

It does feel like it’s too far away. But Kyle knows the next three weeks are going to be packed with the album release party planning, the tour preparation, making sure Asher’s van isn’t going to give out on them mid-tour, and rehearsing the songs. Alexis is a guitar goddess, and she’s working on learning lead for all of their songs, so they’ve been putting in as much extra practice as they can to help her out. It’s amazing how December’s Tragedy feels far more complete with her than it ever did with Brandon.

Kyle offers Nick a smile. “After that, we’ll have your tour. We’ll get to see each other every day. I still can’t believe that’s happening.”

“It’s still too far away,” Nick says. “I want to see you right now. I want to be in Dove and push that sexy mannequin aside so I can kiss you instead.”

Kyle’s face heats up. Nick is probably going to flip when he hears the lyrics of Soap Bubbles and Birthday Wishes.

“I wish I could be in London with you right now,” he says. “Did you do anything fun after the interview?”

“Not really,” Nick says. “Joe and Kevin aren’t the best company, and I was hoping my boyfriend would call me. London would be way nicer if I had you here with me.”

Kyle can’t help the probably-goofy-looking smile that spreads across his face. Unfortunately, Asher’s van pulls up to the house at that moment. Asher steps out first, squinting at Kyle.

“Hey,” they yell. “You wanna help carry this shit in?”

“Uh,” Kyle glances down at the screen. “Nick, I’m sorry, I’ll call you back in a minute—”

“No, it’s okay, you do your thing,” Nick says. “Have fun! I’ll be excited to see the video when it’s posted. I’ll retweet it.”

“Thank you,” Kyle says. “Uh. Have a fun time in London. Talk to you later.”

He feels bad ending the call, but he doesn’t have long to feel that way. Scott puts a heavy bag of Taco Wiz goodness into his arms and walks back towards the van. Kyle inhales the unbeatable smell of cilantro, jalapeños, and taco seasoning and moans a little bit. He carefully moves the bag to one hand so he can put his phone in his hoodie pocket and pick up his thermos.

“We just got all the two-dollar menu stuff,” Asher says as they walk past Kyle into the house. “So you can fight with Otto and Awsten over the chicken burritos. The refried bean supreme ones are mine.”

“Fine with me,” Kyle says.

Everyone starts clamoring when they realize the food has arrived. Kyle puts the bag down and manages to snatch one chicken burrito before Otto and Alexis claim the others. Awsten complains and threatens to make all of them make out with the mannequin. Otto then shows Awsten how he and Alexis have managed to remove the mannequin’s head, which is nowhere to be seen.

Kyle sits down with his burrito and opens his phone to look at his phone background. The picture of him and Nick. In a month and a half, he’ll have the chance to take another one. It really does feel too far away.

As they start eating, someone starts playing Soap Bubbles and Birthday Wishes again.

Cause all I want is kisses, Soap bubbles and birthday wishes, Sleeping in and hanging out and wishing on the stars. Yeah, all I want is with you When all I do is miss you, So I'll close my eyes and blow out the candles one more time tonight.

#mani playing with words #nickle #I dont remember the tag I used for last years halloween thing but thats the au this is

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andimack-crack · 4 years ago

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A christ-mack story: Andi Mack

read part one here

read part two here

read part three here

Part four: Locked in for Christmas part 1

[Word count 1072]

Andi POV

It was the following day after Bex told me something had happened and she explained everything. From Gabriel getting back in touch to meeting up with with him to Bowie getting upset. He did return home but didn't say anything he just spent the night in his and Bex's room and when Bex went to bed he went to sleep on the couch he must be really mad. the next morning I didn't hear anyone talking. It was Christmas eve and my parents are arguing I teared up a little they had only just gotten married they always seemed so happy what if they broke up I don't think I'd be able to deal with it. My phone snapped me out of my thoughts

[Incoming call from Cece 💙]

"Hey Andi merry Christmas eve"

"Not really Bex and Bowie aren't talking to each other"

"What why?"

"It's a long story but it's really effecting them Bowie is really upset and I don't know how long they'll be like this"

"Don't worry Andi you shouldn't have too I'll deal with it relax go spend time with your friends"

"Are you sure maybe I can-"

"I'm sure leave it with me bye bye"

"Bye"

I wasn't sure what Cece would do but I guess I would have to leave it in her hands.

********

Bex's POV

"Mom... Mom I got your text what's wrong?"

My mom had sent me a series of urgent texts that there was some kind if emergency but I couldn't find her suddenly she appeared with some plant completely fine I got upset

"You made me think something really bad happened"

"It did Andi told me your fighting with Bowie and it's upsetting her she has been through enough family drama to last her a life time you two just got married do you really want her to worry if you'll stay together?"

"Of course not I didn't know she was upset" I said sorrowfully

"Yeah well you can't blame her for keeping it too herself" my mom nudge

"I'd love more than anything to fix this but how can I when Bowie can barley stay in the same room as me?"

"I got it covered"

as if on cue Bowie walked in and saw me he tried to leave but my mom bolted the door standing in front of it

"Fine I guess we're doing this" he huffed sitting down

********

Andi's POV

"That's all basically" I sighed.

I had filled in the gang on what happened they were all surprised hanging on at every word.

"I'm so sorry Andi" Buffy said putting an arm around me

"Yeah well I don't wanna talk about it any more" I just took a sip of my milkshake

"Lets cheer you up its Christmas eve" Cyrus encouraged

"I know Bowie has a bunch of decorations sitting in the red rooster he forgot too put up and he told me he has to go in early on christmas day" Jonah said

"Yeah something about a broken security locking system" I recalled "It's all technology very efficient but last time one of the co-workers got locked in with no cell service"

"Yep so how about we go in tonight and put up the decorations as a surprise for him on christmas morning" Jonah suggested I shrugged in response

"C'mon Andi it sounds fun it'll get you in the Christmas spirit you'll be able to forget for a while we can get snacks hot drinks" Cyrus said happily

"I can play a few songs" Jonah smiled

"Okay let's do it I can't say no to decorating" I let a smile grow on my face

"Awesome" Buffy said excitedly

******

Bowie's POV

Bex took my hands staring me in the eyes I could tell she was itching to tell me something so I listened to her for the first time in a day.

"Look Bowie I'm so so sorry-" she began

"Stop look I know you're sorry I want to skip to part where you tell me what your sorry for." I said cutting her off

"Fine" she took a deep breath "Gabriel is an ex boyfriend he was very toxic and we became a couple after I left home and after I left Andi... I was very vulnerable and he took advantage and emotionally abused me" I squeezed her hands tighter

"Bex you could of told me all this why didn't you?"

"I felt ashamed I felt even worse when I found out the only reason he got back in touch was to ask for money" I sighed in disbelief

"Ugh he sounds horrible" I said sympathetically

"He was but it doesn't matter anymore he'll keep away but I'm sorry for lying I really should of told you is hate ruin what we've worked so hard for" she looked at me with teary eyes I kissed her forehead

"I forgive you obviously and it's fine I'm not mad anymore. I understand why you did what you did" she dove into my chest and I hugged her back.

"I knew you two would work your differences now Bowie if your not busy there's an cactus that needs attention" Cece said walking in

"Actually there something I need to say" Bex said grabbing my hands again

"I'm all ears"

******

Andi's POV

Me and my friends all arrived at the red rooster we played some old records Christmas albums of course while we decorated I took some silver tinsel tearing it apart and putting the small silver strands in places to make the place a little sparkly. It was satisfying and did distract me.

"This place looks good Bowie's gonna love it" Buffy interjected

"Yeah we all did a good job" I complimented.

We began gathering left over decorations clearing them into the storage room. Suddenly the heating and power went out.

"Woah what happened?" Cyrus questioned

"Oh it must be 5:30 they switch the power off automatically in this building since no one lives here it's supposed to save energy but it also means it's about to get really cold in here" Jonah explained

"Well we should be leaving then I can already feel the temperature dropping" Cyrus shivered

I walked toward the door as the others grabbed their coats I pulled the handle it wouldn't open I did it again I even tried pushing it. It wouldn't budge.

"What is it?" Buffy asked

"Remember that broken security locking system?" I said nervously

"Yeah..."

"I... I think the doors locked" I said slowly

To be continued...

#andi mack #jonah beck #cyrus goodman #buffy driscoll #good hair crew #tyrus #andi mack meme #tj kippen #amber andi mack

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freddiesaysalright · 5 years ago

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Beautiful Mess Part 10

A Brian May x Reader Fic

Summary: Reader works in a bookshop. She meets Brian May and they have an instant connection. It seems to be a fairy tale romance. But, things are seldom what they seem.

Word Count: 3k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @mrs-jack-murphy, @not-john-watsons-blog, @simmisblog, @mirkwoodshewolf, @assembledherethevolunteers, @thosequeenboys, @lv7867, @maymacca, @rethought, @brianslittlepet, @jinxy93, @stephydearestxo, @mrcleanisthicc, @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls, @readinghorn, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @reedusteinrambles, @borhapqueen92, @1204-moonchild If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: So, I’ve had a couple people ask how many parts there are going to be to this story, and I think there is going to be one more part and MAYBE an epilogue. Idk, I didn’t plan this story as well as my last one so it depends on how the next part goes. Anyway enjoy this update!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Part 10 here we go!!!

Things were appearing to fall into place. You and Brian were going strong as a couple. The window was being installed in the shop. You were on good terms with the Kimballs. The prosecution of the man who had held you up was going well because he decided to plead guilty to all of the charges. The evidence against him was overwhelming, and you and Brian could easily identify him, having spent so much time in close quarters.

You were happy about all of that. Truly, you were. But the fact that Richard was dying clouded a lot of your joy. It hung over you day and night. You began to regret agreeing to be with him at the end of his life because you weren’t sure you could stand back and let him go. Then again, that wasn’t really up to you.

You dwelled on this as you got ready for the New Year’s party. Your makeup and hair were already done. You had on a tight black dress and some matching heels. You were putting in your earrings when Brian entered the bathroom.

“You ready to - oh, wow,” he sighed as he took you in.

He looked handsome in his suit. You’d gotten it for him as a late Christmas gift. He complained that suit jackets rarely fit the length of his arms, so you got him something tailored just for him.

You smirked. “You like it?”

“You look incredible,” he told you, coming up behind you and wrapping his long arms around your waist. He kissed your neck. “Good enough to eat.”

You closed your eyes to his warmth and hummed with contentment.

“And maybe I will before the night’s over,” he said huskily into your ear.

“So naughty, baby,” you replied with a giggle.

“Can’t help it, when you look this good,” he returned.

He pressed his lips to your shoulder. You sighed.

“Brian, don’t,” you said halfheartedly. “If we start now, we’ll never make it to the party on time.”

His lips trailed back up to your neck.

“Then we’ll be late,” he murmured.

“We can’t, baby, we - oh, Brian,” you moaned lightly when his tongue circled a sensitive spot by your ear, and your stomach turned with fresh desire.

“Just a quickie,” he suggested, holding you tighter against him.

“As much as I want to,” you laughed. “We can’t. We’ll just have to wait until we get home.”

He chuckled. “Very well then. You’ve always been worth the wait.”

You beamed at him, turning in his arms to face him. You stood on your toes to kiss his cheek sweetly.

“You are so good to me,” you praised.

His shy smile made your heart melt and nearly reconsider your firm stance.

“Come on, dove,” he said. “Charlie sent a car for us.”

Your mouth dropped. “And you were really trying for a quickie?”

He laughed. “Yeah. But can you blame me?”

He gestured toward the mirror again. You did look really hot.

“Okay, I suppose that’s fair.”

Giggling together, you went to the front door. Brian helped you into your coat and then you climbed into the backseat. The chauffeur held the door open for you, and then closed it once you were both in before returning to the driver’s seat.

You looked on the streets of London as the car sped past. The lights and the people struck you suddenly as very beautiful. You were becoming a lot more sentimental about things lately. Just the way the city looked on this lovely winter night made something in your heart stir. You looked over at Brian and took his hand.

“I’m so happy to be sharing all of this with you,” you said.

His brow wrinkled as he looked at you. “All of what?”

“Just...life,” you said. “Everything.”

He smiled at you again and you scooted closer to him. He kissed the top of your head.

“As scary as that night was,” he said, and you didn’t have to ask him which night he was referring to. “I’m sort of glad it happened.”

“Yeah?” you wondered.

“If it made you realize you wanted to be with me, I think it was worth it,” he said.

“Brian, you got shot,” you reminded him.

“I know,” he said with a light laugh. “But my arm healed. That pain passed. And now we have forever.”

“You really think I’m worth all that?” you questioned.

“All that and more,” he assured you.

You smiled and relaxed against him. The city disappeared behind you as you headed out to the Kimballs’ home. It was remote, since it was such a large building. In fact, it was more of a mansion than a house. You remembered as a child wondering why Richard’s house was so big, when you and your family had something small. Well, small by comparison. But as time went on, and when you eventually moved into the Kimball house, it became normal to you.

Brian, on the other hand, was astounded.

“My God!” he cried. “That’s massive!”

“Yeah, Charlie really wanted to show off,” you replied with a shrug. “It is a bit much for just the three of them, but y’know, rich people will always be rich people.”

“Well, I’m not exactly a pauper, but holy shit,” Brian said.

The chauffeur pulled up to the front door, behind a whole line of cars, letting guests out to make their way up to the door. Brian helped you of the car and then together you climbed the large stone steps. The door was propped open, but the cold bothered no one. The party was packed with bodies, and a fire crackled in the fireplace of each room.

Someone took your jackets for you and then you made your way through the crowd, looking for any sign of Richard or Charlie or Susan. You found them in the second sitting room, with some more of their closest friends.

“Y/N, darling!” Susan cried, getting to her feet to come and embrace you.

“Mama!” you replied, inhaling deeply.

Her perfume had been the same all your life. It had a warm, vanilla scent, and it always made you feel at home. It lingered everywhere she went.

“How are you?” she asked, pulling back to look at you. “Richard told me about the ghastly business at the shop, and I’m so sorry you went through all that. You’re recovering alright?”

“I am, Mama, please don’t fuss,” you replied. “Have you met Brian?”

You reached back and took his arm, pulling him closer. Susan hugged him.

“And of course you were the one who got really hurt,” she said. “How’s the arm?”

“Perfect,” he told her. “Thank you, Mrs. Kimball.”

“You may call me Susan, Brian dear, don’t be silly,” she said with a welcoming smile. “We’re so happy for you and Y/N.”

She looked at you once more.

“All we ever want is for you to be happy, darling,” she said gently, cupping your cheek with her hand. “I do hope you can forgive us for being so blind.”

“All is forgiven,” you said. “You acceptance of all of this means more than you know.”

She beamed and then ushered you into the room to greet Charlie and Richard. Charlie shook hands with Brian and Richard kissed your cheek.

“How are you?” you asked, looking him once over.

“Relax, Y/N, I’m not going to collapse or anything,” he returned. “Do try and enjoy yourself. It’s a party.”

“But you -”

You were cut off when Brian approached and greeted Richard. Charlie took that opportunity to squeeze you in his arms. You laughed as he let go, and you saw he had already had a lot to drink. His cheeks were rosy and his breath smelled of whiskey.

“Papa, you seem to be enjoying yourself,” you giggled.

“It’s a new year, darling girl, which means tons of new opportunities,” he returned.

He pinched your cheek and wandered off, greeting another guest. You were a bit shocked by his positive outlook. This was also the year he would lose his son. Didn’t anybody remember that?

You started mingling, introducing Brian to other guests, many of whom were thrilled to meet him. Brian got along great with them, answering their questions about life as a rock star and discussing music of all kinds.

“And what has Queen got planned for the new year?” asked a business colleague of Charlie’s.

“Great stuff,” Brian replied. “The album’s coming out next month, so we’ll be on tour in March.”

“Where will you be touring?” the man’s wife asked.

“We’re starting the US, actually…”

Brian continued to talk, but you could hardly hear. He never told you he was going on tour so soon. That was when you would be heading to Switzerland. You had sort of been counting on Brian coming with you because to see Richard go alone...you weren’t sure you could handle something like that. Now, you and Brian were going to be separated. Disappointment disguised as anger made you turn your eyes sharply on your boyfriend.

“When were you planning on telling me this?” you asked, cutting across him.

“Sometime this week, I suppose,” he said, his eyes questioning you already. “What’s the matter?”

You looked away. “Nothing. I need some air.”

You swept away, leaving Brian confused, and headed toward the balcony. You stepped outside and wrapped your arms around yourself against the chill. Only one other person was out there, braving the cold. Richard.

“Hey,” he said. “You alright?”

He had just lit a cigarette and held it between his fingers. You reached out and took it from him, bringing it toward your lips. His eyes searched your face.

“I thought you didn’t smoke,” he said.

“I don’t,” you snapped, and took a drag.

He chuckled, retrieving another out of his pack and lighting it. You shivered, so Richard wrapped his scarf around your shoulders. You nodded your thanks. You were about to ask what he was doing out here, when you heard your name. You both turned to see Brian jogging out onto the balcony.

“What the hell was that about?” Brian demanded as he approached.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Richard said, and slipped away.

Your eyes followed him to the door. He put out his cigarette, but tucked it into his pocket to smoke again later. Brian ignored Richard entirely, eyes fixed on you.

Guilt started to creep up your spine. You felt you had been unfair. Brian had every intention of telling you he was going on tour, it just happened to come out at this party. But, that wasn’t what you were really upset about.

“Care to explain yourself?” Brian asked.

“I’m sorry,” you said shortly. “It was just unexpected, that’s all.”

“What was?” he pressed. “That we’re going on tour? How do - Y/N, are you smoking?”

“No,” you said hurriedly and flicked the cigarette away.

“What’s going on?” Brian said, his tone surprisingly gentle.

“You’re going away,” you said quietly.

For a moment, you wondered if he’d heard you since he didn’t answer. You met his eyes again.

“And I’m really going to miss you,” you admitted.

His body relaxed as he stepped toward you. His expression softened.

“That’s not all, is it?”

You took a deep breath.

“I don’t understand how everyone can act like nothing’s wrong!” you blurted out. “This year isn’t something to celebrate! He’s going to...he’s going to die!”

You choked on the last word as a tear slipped down your cheek. Brian folded you into his arms and you held back another sob.

“And now, we’re going to be apart,” you whimpered. “It’s not permanent, I know. But it doesn’t make that any easier. Especially since it’s when I’m going to need you most.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t even realize you wanted me there.”

A beat passed and you sniffled before burying your face in his chest.

“I think it’s better this way,” he went on. “I think you and Richard will need that time for just the two of you.”

“I can’t do it, Brian,” you whispered. “I can’t watch him die.”

“You’ve got to,” he returned. “You can be strong for him. I know you can.”

You shook your head.

“D’you want to go home?” he offered.

“I can’t, not without them asking questions,” you said. “I just don’t feel much like celebrating.”

“Well, there’s a lot to be thankful for, dove,” he said. “You and I are both alive. We’re together. Your family is incredibly happy for us. That counts for something.”

“Of course it does,” you replied. “But I can’t think about anything other than Richard.”

Just then, you heard the crowd inside begin counting down.

“I know this year is going to be difficult,” Brian said. “But there’s going to be so much of it that’s amazing, I promise.”

You looked into his eyes.

“We’re going to have our first full year together,” he said. “You can come and see us on tour. We’ll find a house together. You’re going to have a whole new business to take care of. Richard’s passing isn’t going to be easy, but you can’t let it make you forget all the wonderful things coming as well.”

You nodded, snuggling closer to him.

“Five…four...three…two...” the gathering chanted.

Brian’s eyes reflected everything that was magnificent about your life.

“Now, forget everything I just said and kiss me,” he told you with a grin.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” the crowd inside shouted.

Auld Lang Syne sounded over the speakers as Brian’s lips claimed yours. For this moment, as one year died and another began, you could forget your sorrow. Brian was a wonderful, shining light in your life. You felt that as long as you had him, you had something worth being joyful for.

“Happy New Year,” you said with a small smile as you parted.

“Happy New Year, dove,” he returned.

***5 Months Later***

Brian was exhausted. Tour was only halfway over. You were still in Switzerland. He missed you so terribly that he ached, but there was nothing to be done. Richard was reaching the end of his life, but he had not gone yet.

This night, Brian was so grateful to see the bed of his hotel room. He had to avoid after parties and the like because temptation lurked around every corner. Not that he really thought he would be unfaithful to you, but it embarrassed him to have to turn away the women that approached him, and he didn’t like to hurt anyone’s feelings.

As he flopped into the squishy pillows and closed his eyes, he groaned as he waited for sleep to overtake him. He needed a shower, but he couldn’t be bothered. All he wanted was to sleep.

But it didn’t come.

With a groan, he got up and decided to go ahead and shower. Perhaps getting the grime and sweat off would help him be more comfortable going to bed. The shower was hot, and as the water ran down his skin, he spied the scar on his arm from the night he was shot. Naturally, he next thoughts were of you.

The parting was dreadful for you both. You went with him to the airport, and you were a tad weepy as you said goodbye, but both of you held it together. The image of your watery eyes as he kissed you once more was burned into his mind. He hated to see you so upset.

He called you almost every day. You always asked how the show went the night before, and he usually had a great story of something that went wrong or something incredible Freddie did during the show. You told him a bit about Richard, but as the weeks wore on, you became more reluctant to talk about it. Brian understood.

As he lathered some shampoo into his curls, he recalled your last night together. It was really something special. Your lovemaking was slow and passionate. Desperate to feel every inch of each other and commit it all to memory before being apart. It made his throat a little dry to think of the way you had sounded as he had worshiped your body.

Fuck, he missed you.

He rinsed off, grabbed a towel, and dried himself as well as he could. He fished around in his suitcase for a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt. As he slipped them on and crawled into bed, he tried to imagine you were there with him. Your soft curves pressed into him. The smell of your hair sinking into the pillows. The sound of your breath evening out.

Even that did not make sleep come.

He considered calling you, but it was much too late for that. It was about six in the morning where you were, and he didn’t want to disturb any rest he hoped you were getting. The last time he’d spoken to you, you sounded tired beyond belief. Emotionally fatigued.

Sleep continued to elude him, so Brian turned on the television. Nothing particularly interesting was on, so he quickly switched it back off and picked up the book you loaned him. It was a favorite of yours. Emma by Jane Austen. Brian had never read it before. He had read Pride and Prejudice as well as Sense and Sensibility in his school days, but when he went to university, he hardly read any novels. It was all scientific theses and papers. It had been years probably since he’d read a work of fiction.

As his eyes scanned the page, he noticed a place you had underlined. It read “Without music, life would be a blank to me.” In the margin, you had written “Brian.” His heart warmed at the sight. You thought of him even when wrapped up in a book. He was hit with such a wave of affection for you, he once again considered calling you just to tell you how sweet you were.

Just then, the phone rang. His heart broke. Something in his gut told him it was you, and there was no way it was good news at this hour.

He picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“He’s gone!” you wailed on the other end. “Oh, God, Brian, he’s gone!”

A lump formed in his throat at the sound of your voice.

“I’m so sorry, dove,” he said.

“He’s gone…”

#Brian May #brian may x reader #brian may imagine #brian may x you #Queen #queen imagine #queen fanfic #queen x reader #queen x you #BoRhap #borhap imagine #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x you #beautiful mess series

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sonicrainicorn · 5 years ago

Text

Only Us (Part 2)

Part of the Berry Done AU

Words: 10459 Desc.: Thomas and Logan have always been close. From the moment Logan was born, Thomas swore he’d do anything for his baby brother. Unfortunately, it was a promise to be taken to the extremes. (First part here) TW: Character death (mentioned), anxiety attacks, attempted rape/non-con (mentioned), relationship abuse, there is also exactly one (1) swear word

I’m actually a little sorry for this one.

///

It must have been a day after the funeral. Logan was in his room, laying stomach down on his bed with his face in the pillow. He didn’t want to do anything. Thomas was in the kitchen making cookies from scratch. Unlike Logan, he needed to do something. And then there was a knock at the door.

Logan didn’t think much about it at first. Yeah, it was a little weird, but maybe it was important mail or someone who tries to sell stuff. That happened sometimes.

He heard Thomas open the door and... let that person in. Okay. That didn’t normally happen. Still, it might not have been important. Maybe. Yeah, okay, Logan was curious now. He rolled out of bed and shuffled to his door.

There was a deep voice coming from the other side that he didn’t recognize. He didn’t focus on the words at the moment, he was more focused on the voice and the millions of questions it gave him. Who was it? Why were they here? What could they possibly want?

He tried to be as silent as possible as he snuck out the door. He didn’t want anyone hearing him for fear that they may stop talking. He learned recently that adults stop talking about important things when they see that a kid is nearby. But he wanted to know those important things. He peeked down the hall.

Thomas sat with a man at the dining table. The man wore nice clothes, but nothing that could be considered fancy. He looked serious, though. Thomas didn’t seem too happy about what he had to say. And then Logan heard the words “emergency foster care”. This man was a social worker.

Their mother had no siblings. There were no aunts or uncles or cousins to take them in. Her parents died before either of the boys had a chance to know them. There was no one to fall back on.

He and Thomas were going into foster care.

“We’ll try to be contacting your father as soon as possible,” the man explained. “But until then, you will have to be placed with an emergency foster family.”

“No,” Thomas said, borderline indignant. “I can take care of Logan myself. I-I helped raise him. I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m sorry, but this is how it has to go. You two have to be cared for by a legal adult.”

“I’m going to be a legal adult. I turn eighteen next week.”

“And when that week comes you get to see him as much as you wish.”

Logan didn’t want to hear this anymore. He may have been young, but he knew what was going to happen. They were going to separate him and Thomas. The likelihood of someone wanting to take care of two teenage boys was slim. And when Thomas turned eighteen, he’d be free to leave. But Logan would be stuck. They wouldn’t see Thomas as a suitable guardian. He had no job -- no source of income. He was still in high school.

Going over all the facts made Logan feel... something. He felt his chest tighten and his legs go weak. There was a pressure pushing down on him, making everything seem too small. He needed to get out -- he needed to stop hearing this.

He ran back to his room and shut the door. He dove under the covers of his bed like a scared little kid. Maybe that’s what he was. All he was was a scared little kid who cried at things he couldn’t stand up to. Who froze up and ran away when he heard things he didn’t like.

He tried to wrap the blanket tighter around himself to drown out his thoughts. They were too loud. He couldn’t breathe. It was like his lungs forgot how to expand and contract on their own. They were doing too much of one and not the other, and he couldn’t focus enough to fix it. He knew he had to fix it, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. It was too much -- everything was too much. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stand it. It was too much. He couldn’t do it.

“Logan?”

That was Thomas. Focus on Thomas. Answer Thomas.

He couldn’t answer Thomas.

The edge of the bed dipped. “Logan -- hey -- I need you to listen to me, alright?” His voice was gentle. “Breathe in for four seconds, hold for seven seconds, and breathe out for eight.”

Logan tried to follow the steps -- he tried so hard. He couldn’t do it. He was choking. “I -- I --” A sob escaped his lips instead of coherent words.

“Alright. We’re gonna try something else, okay? Focus on me, Logan. I know you can do this. You know your room, right? What are five things you can touch?”

Logan knew one. “B-blanket.” Associate. “Bed.” Keep going. “P-pillow.” He kept track with his fingers. Using his brain was too hard. “Sheets.” He stretched out his arm to where he assumed Thomas was. “You.”

Thomas held Logan’s searching hand. “That’s good. You’re doing great. What are four things you can see?”

He peeked his head over his blanket cocoon. “Wall.” Expand. “P-poster.” Elaborate. “Th-the Doctor Who one. And the Winnie th-the Pooh one.” One more, “You.”

Thomas smiled. It erased the concern on his face for a brief second. “Three things you can hear.”

“My breathing.” It wasn’t as heavy anymore, though still a bit ragged. “My alarm clock -- but only in the morning.” It was easier to think -- to talk. “And your voice.”

“Two things you can smell.”

“The cookies in the oven.” Things were better. “The flour you dropped on your shirt.”

Thomas glanced down at the rather large white patch clinging to the front of his shirt. “That’s kind of embarrassing... Anyway, one thing you can taste.”

“Nothing that would be sanitary.”

Thomas chuckled. “That’s a safe answer.” He squeezed Logan’s hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Not like I’m dying.” He sat up. His limbs were wobbly. “How did you know how to do that?”

He shrugged. “You learn a thing or two when you get older.”

Fair enough, Logan supposed. He crawled closer to Thomas and put his head on his arm. It felt better to be near him. “What’s going to happen now?”

Thomas sighed. “We’re going to have to leave.”

“Right now?”

He didn’t say anything, but that was an answer in itself.

“Oh.”

He squeezed Logan’s hand again. “I’ll help you pack.”

They were allowed to bring whatever they could carry. Their social worker didn’t help. He made it seem like they needed to leave as fast as possible. Logan didn’t want to leave at all. But they left. It wasn’t until the house was fading from view that he realized Cara’s guitar was still in his closet.

~~~

Their emergency foster family was nice enough, but Logan was more glad about getting to stay with Thomas longer. It was an older man and woman. There were pictures of them with two kids. A boy and a girl. Logan assumed it was their children. He noticed a newer picture of the girl in a college graduation gown. There was another one with the boy in a suit and a woman next to him wearing white. He didn’t know why they’d want to be foster parents when they had their own kids -- emergency foster parents no less. A position where you get traumatized kids dropped off at your doorstep under short notice.

But they were nice. They let Logan and Thomas be alone in their room. And that was another thing Logan was glad for. Sharing a room. He didn’t think he’d be able to be apart from Thomas.

They sat on a bed together, not saying much at first. It was a rough month.

Logan had The Phantom Tollbooth clutched tightly to his chest. He was afraid to put it down. He didn’t want to forget it like another important item of his. “I left my guitar behind,” he muttered after the long stretch of silence.

Thomas paused. “I’m sure we’ll get it back.”

Logan didn’t know how to respond.

“Do you wanna see something?” Thomas asked with a small smile.

“Sure.”

Thomas hopped off the bed. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a large photo album.

Logan couldn’t stop the grin growing on his face. “You brought the photo album?”

He shrugged. “I just felt like I needed to grab something.” He sat back on the bed. The album was meant to mimic a thick book. It was dark blue and squishy with the edges being worn down from use. It was mostly baby pictures of both boys, which made it their mother’s favorite album. There were other pictures, but mainly baby pictures. “Wanna look through it?”

“Yeah, I like making fun of you.”

Thomas scoffed. “Whatever. Don’t act like you don’t have any embarrassing pictures in here.” He flipped it open to the first page.

The very first picture was of Thomas and their mother. She sat in a hospital bed with her newborn in her arms, smiling softly at the camera. She looked a lot younger here. Like the same age as Thomas and his friends. It made Logan realize that he didn’t actually know how old his mother was when she was first pregnant. He never noticed how much younger she looked compared to other mothers.

“She looks like a kid,” Logan couldn’t help but mutter.

Thomas frowned a bit, eyes glued on her face. “She was.” But he didn’t elaborate.

Regardless, the first few pages of the album were of Thomas. Their mother would pop up every once in a while with a large smile that made Logan’s heart ache, but it mainly focused on Thomas. There was his birthdays, his first day of school, him just being a little kid. And then there was another picture taken in a hospital. A story frozen in time.

Thomas sat on the hospital bed next to his mother, hanging close to her arm. They both smiled down at the little bundle she held. A newborn Logan. They gazed at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“I forgot how tiny you were,” Thomas commented with a hint of amusement.

“I’m still tiny,” Logan replied bitterly. He was one of the shortest kids in his grade. Cara was half a head taller than him.

“Well, when you were a baby you were a lot smaller than you should have been.”

“I was?”

“You were born a few weeks early.”

“I was?”

Thomas laughed a bit at the repeated phrase in the exact same cadence. “Yeah. But maybe you just got stuck with the short genes. You were a healthy size by the time you were one.”

Oh, lame. He was going to be short forever.

“I guess we won’t know for sure until you’re all grown up.”

That was less lame.

Thomas turned the page. His hand froze on it. There was a picture of their dad. It was one of the only ones Logan had ever seen of him; he smiled at the camera with Thomas in his lap. It was a small, polite smile. It wasn’t a large grin like their mother’s. Or a radiant beam like Thomas’s. It was subdued. It didn’t bring as much joy with it. Logan wondered if that’s what he always smiled like, or if that was something he did for pictures.

“Do you think he’ll take us in?” Logan brought himself to ask.

“I don’t know.” He turned the page.

On the fourth day, they finally had a permanent solution. They had a new social worker come in — a woman named Miss Janelle Wilton — to tell them that their father gave up legal custody. He didn’t want anything to do with them. The only thing to do now was put them into foster care.

And once again Logan found himself not understanding. He never had a dad before. He wasn’t familiar with the concept. But weren’t dads… supposed to want their children? Why didn’t their father want them? He noticed Thomas get angry at the news. Thomas was rarely ever angry. But the moment he heard that their dad gave up on them, he could barely restrain his fury.

They were going to be placed with foster families tomorrow.

Families.

More than one.

“I’m sorry,” Miss Wilton said. She seemed genuine about it. “We were unable to find a household willing to take both of you.”

Even though Logan knew that would happen, it still hurt to hear. This would be his last night with Thomas. Maybe ever. And he didn’t know what to do.

“I can’t believe him,” Thomas exploded as soon as they were alone in their room. It startled Logan. “He didn’t even want to try.”

Logan didn’t know what to say. He had never seen Thomas so angry before. He didn’t want him to be angry, but he didn’t know what to say to make it better. Unlike him, Thomas knew what it was like to have a dad. He knew how dads were supposed to be. Apparently, dads were supposed to try.

Thomas began to pace the length of the room, clearly doing it in an attempt to cool off.

Logan crawled onto his temporary bed and watched him. He still didn’t know what to do. He ran his thumb along the spine of the book in his arms. “Did you think that he would?” He got himself to speak at last.

“I don’t know — maybe. I hoped…” He sighed. “I wanted to believe there was at least something good in him.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He paused, eyeing Logan briefly as some of his anger escaped. “I —” He sighed again — “I never told Mom about it, but I ran into Dad last year.” He ignored the wide-eyed look Logan gave him. “Honestly, he seemed more surprised to see me than I was to see him. I had no idea why. It wasn’t as if I expected him to be there, either.” He crossed his arms, his anger reigniting. “I was out with Valerie and Terrence — not exactly a witch hunt — yet he acted as if there was a reason I was there. Evidently, he didn’t want the kid he left ruining his date.”

Logan caught onto the bitterness in his words but decided not to comment.

“I tried to be nice to him. I tried to see the best in him. He's my dad so he had to at least be nice. But then he told me why he left. And it was stupid and selfish, and it was all because —" He cut himself off, catching sight of Logan. And his face softened a bit.

He tightened his hold on his book. "Because what?"

His face softened further, and he sighed yet again, his anger going out with it. "It doesn't matter." He sat beside Logan. "It was a dumb reason, anyway."

"Well, I don't think there's a smart reason to run away from your kids and wife."

Thomas snorted. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Later that night, neither of them could sleep. Dread hung in the air between them. The knowledge that they would be separated tomorrow stung with a bitter, almost palpable taste. Rather than stew in it alone, Logan decided to slip out of his bed and into Thomas's. Thomas turned his head to look at him.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, but you’re just a baby boy,” his voice tapered off into the ‘I’m-talking-to-someone-way-younger-than-me’ tone — which Logan always loathed. And Thomas knew this. He only ever did it to be annoying. To add to this, he kept cooing about his baby brother. Referring to Logan directly as his baby or little brother was another thing he did to be annoying. He wrapped his arms around Logan and squeezed him tight, continuing his baby talk.

“Noo,” Logan whined. He tried to wriggle out but found he had no room. It didn’t help that he still had his book between his arms. On instinct, he almost called out for his mom for assistance, but instead he said, “Stop it. I’ll bite you.”

Thomas sighed as if it was the most ridiculous quest to befall him. “Fine.” But he didn’t let go. Logan decided not to comment on this. “You know,” he started softly after a moment, “whatever happens tomorrow, I’ll make sure to find my way back to you.”

Rather than risk bursting into tears coming up with a response, Logan buried his face into the crook of Thomas’s neck. He didn’t want to leave. Thomas was all he had left. After that, what else could anyone take from him? The few possessions he was able to grab before he left the house? What did those things mean in the end? He didn’t want things he wanted people. He could lose everything he ever owned, but as long as he had Cara, or his mom, or Thomas, then it didn’t matter. But that wasn’t his circumstance.

“Are you holding something?”

They both moved away enough for Logan to show his book. “I don’t wanna put it down,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Did you want to read it?”

“Um…”

“Or do you want me to read it?”

He nodded and handed the book over.

Thomas turned on the lamp beside the bed. He positioned himself so that Logan was still close, but he was able to hold the book with both hands. “‘There was once a boy named Milo who didn't know what to do with himself — not just sometimes, but always.’”

~~~

Before Logan left, he grabbed a photo from the photo album. He did it when Thomas wasn’t looking. Like it was some secret. But he didn’t want to be told he couldn’t take one or be judged on what he decided to take. He took the first picture he saw. Thomas’s fourth birthday. They were sitting at the dining table. Thomas was on his mother’s lap with his usual wide smile. She had her chin resting on the top of his head with sparkling eyes. The cake was decorated with blue frosting and topped with a number four candle.

He put it in his book.

He didn’t talk the whole way to his foster family. He didn’t even talk when he got there. There was no amount of coercing or gentle words that would get him to open his mouth. He just held his book close to his chest and kept his eyes cast on the ground. They left him alone soon enough. Not that it mattered.

His room was small. Light peach walls empty of any personality. Logan supposed he was meant to fix that, but he wasn’t going to. He didn’t want to get comfortable here. He didn’t want to stay. He wanted to be home. He wanted Thomas. He wanted his mom.

But there was nothing to be done about that.

When April 24th came around, Logan felt absolutely miserable. He was alone. He wanted his mom. He wanted to see his brother. It was Thomas's eighteenth birthday. His mom said eighteenth birthdays were special. It was meant to be special, but now they weren’t even together. He wondered if Thomas was doing okay. Was he at least having a good birthday?

Logan rolled on his side and stared at the empty wall. "Happy birthday," he whispered. The first words he said since being separated. And no one was there to hear them.

On the other side of town, Thomas laid in bed, absolutely miserable. His foster parents asked if he wanted to celebrate his birthday, which was nice, but he declined the offer. He didn't want anything to do with his birthday. This would be the first birthday without his mom's homemade cake. The first birthday without Logan jumping on his bed to wake him up in the morning because "it's your birthday, you gotta be up early!".

He missed them.

He regretted taking those little things for granted. He'd do anything to hear Logan run down the hall and burst through his door, interrupting his sleep. He wanted more than anything to see his mom act like her cake was still a surprise even though he always got the same one for seventeen straight years. But he didn't have that. He was alone.

~~~

Two years.

Logan stayed in the foster care system for two years. During that period, he had been forced to move houses a few times. Not as much as other kids, he was sure, but more than twice was still a lot. Many families were nice. Others not so much. The people that weren’t as nice were the ones that got rid of him the fastest. They told Miss Wilton he was a problem child. He was difficult to deal with.

Well, Logan didn’t know what they expected. He had his family ripped away from him. It wasn’t as if he was going to get over that with their faux generosity. Besides, all he did was not talk. Apparently, adults didn’t like that.

Miss Wilton soon came to realize that Logan wasn’t the problem. Anytime someone complained after her discovery, she would give the foster family a fake sweet smile and apologize on Logan’s behalf, then be on her way with Logan in tow. Logan noticed that she gave a lot of adults fake smiles. Her real smiles she gave to Logan and other kids.

She could also be snarky, so Logan ended up liking her.

The last family she found for him he stayed with the longest. They were more understanding than the others, which was a relief. But those last few months were filled with something a bit more important.

Thomas was trying to get legal guardianship.

It was tough and long, and Logan had never been so impatient in his life. Miss Wilton took him to the final court decision. And he almost cried right then and there. He saw Valerie and Terrence. Familiar faces that he hadn't seen in two years. Faces that followed him through his childhood. He didn't realize how much he missed them.

And then he saw Thomas. They stared at each other with wide, unbelieving eyes. Thomas smiled. A small one, but a smile nonetheless. Logan was reminded of home.

After that, the day was a blur. He remembered it being stressful. Of course it was. Strangers were deciding his future. Adults he didn’t know were choosing if he got to stay with Thomas or not. Putting it that way made it seem so silly. Thomas was his brother. Why shouldn’t they be able to live together? They’ve been together his whole life. It wouldn’t have been fair to come to any other decision.

Thankfully, whatever deity had forced them into this situation decided to side with them that day.

Miss Wilton showed genuine excitement and relief at the brothers being together again. She was happy that their permanent home would be with each other. Because she was happy, Logan knew he should have been happy too, but he just… couldn’t believe it. Not yet. Since the moment Cara left, his entire life had been going downhill. There was no way it would pick up now. He was half convinced the universe would pull a mean trick and he’d be ripped away from Thomas again.

But nothing like that happened. Miss Wilton helped Logan pack his things and took him to Thomas’s place. It was surreal to hear that Thomas had his own apartment. When last they left each other, Thomas hadn’t even begun to consider moving out.

When they got there, Miss Wilton explained some things that Logan tuned out. He caught a snippet about someone coming to check on them sometime soon, and maybe she said something about Logan, but he didn’t pay attention. He was too busy gazing around the room. There were a few things he recognized from the house — the couch, the dining table, the TV, the pictures — and he wondered what else had made it. Logically, he knew not everything could fit in here, but part of him still hoped. He liked being surrounded by familiarity.

Not long after, Miss Wilton said her final goodbye. Logan was sort of sad about it. She had been a constant presence in his life for two whole years. But he assumed her saying goodbye was a good thing. It meant that he had a permanent home to stay in.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Miss Wilton said before she left for good. “But I hope we never see each other again.”

Logan agreed.

She gave him one last, genuine smile. Then she left.

“She seemed nice,” Thomas said after a moment.

It then occurred to Logan that Thomas didn’t spend as much time with her as he did. To respond, Logan simply nodded.

There was a slight twitch of a frown at the nonverbal response, but he masked it with a smile. “Well, come on. Let me show you to your room.”

Logan trailed after him without a word.

Thomas talked for both of them on the short way there. He mentioned how he tried to get as much stuff from the house as possible, but he couldn’t get everything. That didn’t mean he didn’t try, though. “Valerie and Terrence helped out a lot. Oh — and Joan. They’re a co-worker of mine and they live a few apartments down. I’m sure they’d love to meet you — well — after you get settled.” He opened one of the doors.

One of the first things Logan saw almost made him drop his book. Cara’s guitar. It was resting on his bed, waiting for him. Before he rushed over to it, he decided to look around. It was almost like he never had to leave. His posters were on the walls, his little bookcase was there — even his bed sheets were the same. He dropped his book on his nightstand, finally feeling safe enough to let it go, and he opened the guitar case. It looked the same as when he left it.

That’s when reality started to sink in.

This was real. Logan was here with Thomas. He was allowed to stay here. There wouldn’t be any more strangers he had to live with. There wouldn’t be anymore wishing — begging — every night for Thomas to come back like he promised, hoping he hadn’t been forgotten or left behind. This was real. And he was here. Thomas didn’t break his promise at all. He found his way back.

Without realizing it, Logan started crying. He was home. He ran to Thomas and hugged him. They almost crashed to the ground from the sheer force, but Thomas was able to keep them upright. “I missed you,” he said at last. “I missed you so much.”

Thomas hugged him back, holding him close. “I missed you, too.”

~~~

Despite being together, things were still difficult. Money-wise at least. Thomas wondered how the hell his mom ran a house with three people when he had a hard enough time in an apartment with two. She must have been magic. Or maybe Thomas just sucked.

He tried his best, really, but that didn’t make things easier. Sometimes things were difficult to overcome despite a positive attitude. Everything costed money. And that was the worst. He had to pay for food, clothes, gas, rent — and that was just the basics. That didn’t count the school supplies Logan needed, or the phone bills, or the cable bills, or all the other bills that seemed to exist.

There wasn’t ever much spare money lying around. Almost everything Thomas earned went to pay for something. He didn’t have much to save, and that didn’t seem like it would change anytime soon.

He tried not to let Logan know how stressful this all was. The poor kid had been through so much already, he didn’t need to worry about his older brother. He didn’t like to think of it as lying, but he sort of… stretched… the truth. A little bit. Enough to be believable. Logan was a smart kid. He’d figure it out if things started to not add up.

So Thomas never let it get to that point. Did he have to get two jobs? Yes. Was he unable to work anywhere better because he only had a high school diploma? Yes. Did he know that having a higher education would get him a better job? Yes. Was he going to punch the next person in the throat who said that to him? Probably. He wanted to scream that he couldn’t afford to get a dang higher education because he had to raise his brother and put a roof over his head. There wasn’t enough freaking time in the day to earn money and go to school.

But he didn’t do that. He held his tongue and thanked that person for such wonderful advice that a million other people have said before.

People sucked sometimes.

Regardless, Thomas did the same things he always did. He took Logan to school, he went to work, he cooked dinner, he went to work again, then he slept. Interlaced, of course, was paying for things that needed to be paid whenever it was needed. One day, he noticed something. It was a small thing; he would have missed it if he wasn't paying attention.

"Logan, are you having trouble seeing?" They were stopped at a light on their way to Logan's school. It was way early, and he was super tired, but this seemed kind of important.

"Uh…" Logan stopped squinting out the window. "No."

That wasn't believable, but he dropped the subject for the time being. It wasn’t until later that night that he decided to push it.

“Hey, bear,” Thomas called from the kitchen. He grabbed two identical boxes of noodles out of the cupboard. From far enough away, they were hard to tell apart. Thomas sometimes mixed them up at a glance. “What kind of pasta do you want?” He stood at the doorway and presented the boxes.

Logan, who had been sitting cross-legged on the couch doing homework, looked up and immediately grimaced. “Um… the one on the right.”

“Which one is that?”

“Uh —” Thomas could tell he was trying not to squint — “the good one.”

Thomas lowered the boxes with a frown. “You can’t see it, can you?”

“I can see it. Just… it’s a little blurry.”

“How much is a little?”

Logan hesitated, tapping his pencil on his notebook. “I can make out the shapes but I can’t read it.”

Thomas frowned further. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I didn’t wanna bother you.” He focused on the papers before him. “You’re always so busy, and I know money gets tight sometimes, so I figured if I didn’t tell you it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about that.” Thomas sat beside him. “I’m the adult here and it’s my responsibility. We have insurance for a reason, you big goof.” He threw his arm around him and pulled him in for a side hug. “Next time something’s wrong or you have a problem, tell me, okay?”

Logan gave him a small smile. “Okay.”

~~~

A new student entered Logan’s grade near the end of the school year. Logan only found out because they shared the same English class. He thought it was unlucky to join a new school so late in the year, but that wasn’t any of his business. Not like the new kid would care about his opinion anyway.

Unfortunately, the teacher decided to sit the new student beside him — even though there were two other seats available. Logan cursed his bad luck and kept his head down. He didn’t want to interact with anyone. Ever. He hadn’t made another friend since Cara left.

Unfortunately again, this kid didn’t care.

“Hey,” he said with a charming smile. “I’m Percival.”

~~~

So clearly Logan was gay.

Who knew.

He found and read different books on different sexualities to try to understand his confusion. He felt most comfortable identifying as gay, but the tiny section on asexuality in one of the books was always in the back of his mind. Okay, so, it was still sort of confusing, but saying he was gay felt like a good fit. At least for now.

When he mentioned it to Thomas off-hand, he said — and Logan swears he’ll never let him live this down — “Oh, shit, me too.”

It caught him so off guard that he laughed until he cried. Never, in his entire life, had he ever heard Thomas curse. And the first time he did was because they talked about being gay. Somehow that seemed very fitting.

But the tiny, little factoid that Logan left out — just a small detail — was that he and Percival were dating. Telling Thomas he was gay? Yeah, sure, easy. Telling Thomas he had a boyfriend? No. Nope. That would be a disaster. He’d probably freak out about it. In more than one way.

So that was his little secret for the time being. Until he was ready.

Well, it turned out the joke was on him because he accidentally let it slip about four months into their relationship. Like a dang fool.

He didn’t mean to. At all. But once it was out he couldn’t take it back. As predicted, Thomas freaked out. He demanded to know the details at the same time he tried to give advice. It was embarrassing and unnecessary and Logan would have preferred to sink into the earth than experience any second of this onslaught. Worst of all, Thomas wanted to meet him.

It wasn’t that he thought Percival wasn’t someone to meet his family — he was very sweet — it was just the thought of Thomas being an embarrassing older brother. Which he was. If he let them anywhere near each other he’d probably end up dying of embarrassment.

So he tried to push it off at first. It wasn’t necessary right now. Wait a little longer. But it turned out that Percival was on Thomas’s side. Logan felt betrayed.

They (well, with great reluctance on Logan’s part) settled on meeting up for lunch on the weekend. Logan insisted that Thomas bring Joan so that he could have someone to talk to in the inevitable event that Thomas started being embarrassing. He knew it would happen no matter how many times Thomas said it wouldn’t.

“Well that was fun,” Percival mentioned after the whole ordeal was over. They were by themselves now, walking through a park to Percival’s house.

Logan rolled his eyes. Predictively, Thomas had an embarrassing older brother moment. Thank God Joan was there to reel him back a bit. “That’s easy for you to say, you don’t live with him.”

Percival laughed. “Still. We should do it again sometime.”

Logan refrained from rolling his eyes again. “I’ll have to think about that.”

Then Percival stopped. He looked down at Logan with an expression he couldn’t quite read. Logan opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t get the chance. Percival ducked down and captured his lips.

He wanted to suck in a sharp breath of air — an automatic response of surprise — but he didn’t. At least, he didn’t think so. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. It was sudden. A pressure on his mouth he wasn’t familiar with. The new, strange feeling of someone else’s lips. It was like fire, and teasing, and strawberry lemonade. And then it was over.

Percival pulled back, but their lips still brushed together when he whispered, “You’re beautiful.”

His chest fluttered.

~~~

Logan was sixteen when he realized something was… off. He didn’t notice where the feeling was coming from at first. Things between Thomas and him were fine. They weren’t currently struggling for money. All of Thomas’s friends were doing okay. What was left? Why did he have a bad feeling looming over his shoulder?

He wished he could have said that he pieced it together quickly. He wished he could have said he narrowed it down after going through every single option. But he didn't. He… he just didn't.

He didn't even know. It happened so subtly — like a pot heating bit by bit unbeknownst to the poor frog. Except Logan was the frog in this scenario.

He couldn't tell you what the first hint that the water was boiling was. It wasn't as easy as saying, "it started when he did this" because it all seemed okay. Everything was okay. He thought it was at least.

And then, all at once, it was very not okay.

Approaching their first year of being together, Percival wasn't as sweet anymore. Well, he was. But not all the time. Sometimes he said things that were a little too mean. Sometimes he brought up things he knew Logan was insecure about. Sometimes he didn't even seem like the same person.

But it was fine. He always apologized or made it up in some way. And Logan always forgave him. Again. And again. And again.

He felt like an idiot to not notice the pattern.

From there it only escalated. Suddenly, it felt like everything Logan did was criticized. Nothing he did was good enough or worth the effort to look at.

"Anyone can play guitar. It's easy."

Logan was inclined to agree, but coming from someone who didn't know how to play any instrument — let alone a guitar — felt belittling. It completely ignored his years of practice. Still, Logan shoved the guitar in his closet.

"Why does it matter that you won that scholarship?"

He wanted to say that Thomas was proud of him. But he didn't. Thomas was proud of anything that Logan did, though. It must not have been that impressive.

"I hate when you wear that shirt."

He kept it at the bottom of his drawer.

"Remember when you failed that math test?"

He studied every free minute he had.

"Your laugh is annoying."

He tried not to laugh again.

The first time Percival hit him was a surprise. It sort of seemed like an accident, but Logan was never sure. He wasn't sure about a lot. But even Percival seemed a little shocked after he did it. Logan wondered, if he had spoken up then, would it have ended there? Did his silence on the matter convince Percival he could get away with it? He didn't know.

It was almost two years into their relationship. He must have done something wrong.

Logan shuffled into the apartment. The place where Percival hit him the previous day started to appear a lot more visible as throughout school. To add to his bad luck, Thomas wasn't in his room. He tried to slip by but was caught before he made it to the hallway.

“Hey, Logan,” Thomas chirped. “Come here it feels like I haven't seen you all day.”

Logan hesitated. He could say he wasn't feeling well, or straight out refuse to turn around, but that wouldn't work out in the end. He couldn't hide this forever. Taking a deep, silent breath, Logan turned around.

The smile fell right off Thomas's face. “Oh, my God.” He rushed over to Logan. “Oh God, bear, what happened to you?” His hands hovered around Logan's face as if he wasn't quite sure what to do. It made Logan a little nervous.

His hands soon found their place cradling Logan's head. “What happened to your face, Logan?”

The anguished expression of his brother almost made Logan want to tell the truth. Almost. “I, uh, I fell.” That couldn't have been believable.

“Please tell me the truth, bear.” Thomas furrowed his brows in worry. “Unless you fell down some stairs, I don't think your face should look like this.”

Logan pulled himself away. “I-it's nothing. I just fell.”

“Logan —”

“I'm fine, Thomas.” He retreated to his room.

But that statement became less and less true with time. As the injury on his face changed colors to a more noticeable bruise, Logan found himself with others. The new ones were places less obvious and often hidden with articles of clothing.

All the while Logan tried to convince himself everything would be fine. Percival was a knight of the round table — a hero from Arthurian legend. But if that were true… then why did it feel so wrong to be near him? People don't flinch when the hero gets mad. People don't cower when a knight goes to see them. All the fear made Logan miss the talking. It had become subtle insults toward Logan recently, but that was better than fearing another injury.

Logan held on for a few more days. Each day he came home more tired than the last, with Thomas increasing his worry, until one day he couldn't take it.

He hauled himself through the front door. He dropped his backpack on the ground and went straight for Thomas.

Thomas was looking down at some papers but glanced up when he heard the noise. He gasped and dropped everything to be by Logan. “Are you okay?”

Logan wiped his tears and shook his head. “I'm sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, bear?” Thomas tried to reach a hand out to Logan but stopped when he flinched. “What happened?”

“Percy, he — he —” Logan wrapped his arms around himself. Sobs were choking him. “I-I didn't want to do it, Thomas. I didn't w-want to. H-he tried to make me. I was scared. I-I ran away — I ran away from him.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I'm sorry. P-please don't be m-mad. I'm sorry.”

Thomas didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to do. God, he was suddenly aware of how young they both were. He didn’t have infinite wisdom or a sense of direction like a parent should. He was barely going to be twenty-one next month. Something terrible must have been going on and Thomas wasn’t equipped to handle it.

“L-Logan, hey.” Thomas kept his hands to himself. “Let’s try to calm down, alright? I’m not mad at you, kiddo, I have nothing to be mad at you for.”

“B-but I —”

“Shh, it’s okay. We can sit down and talk, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

They sat down on the couch together. Logan hugged himself like he would fall apart if he stopped and Thomas tried to get him to breathe properly. It took a bit, but they got there. At least enough to not be so alarming. Then Logan told him everything. He showed him every bruise, mentioned every bitter conversation, and even what transpired today.

“We were just talking,” Logan explained. He was no longer crying, but the effects of it still altered his voice. “Everything was fine. It felt like things had gone back to normal — he was sweet and told me nice things, but apparently, there was an ulterior motive.” He tightened his hands into fists. “He wanted… he wanted to…” He sucked in a breath. “He wanted to do something I didn’t. I tried stopping him, but he wouldn’t listen. I, I didn’t know what else to do so I ran.”

Thomas didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? How do you even respond to that? This was his little brother. It wasn’t happening to anyone else, it wasn’t a story he heard about someone, it was happening right here — and it was his brother. He couldn’t imagine Logan going through this that whole time. He didn’t even want to think about what caused him to run all the way home. It was all so… awful. And he felt awful about not saying anything, or noticing sooner, or —

“It’s okay.” This wasn’t about him. It was about Logan. “Sometimes the best thing to do is get out of there as fast as you can. You made a smart decision.”

“It doesn’t feel like one.” Logan curled into himself.

Thomas pushed down the sick feeling in his stomach. “It is. He wasn’t listening to you so you did the only other thing you could think of. You got somewhere safe. It’s okay to run away sometimes, Logan — especially if you’re in danger.”

Logan remained silent.

Oh, Thomas wanted to hug him so bad, but he refrained from doing so.

The next day, Percival knocked on the door and asked to see Logan. Thomas tightened his grip on the doorknob to stop from doing something he’d regret. “He’s not here,” he responded in his usual cheerful tone despite the fact his blood was boiling. “He went down to the library to grab something. Would you like to leave a message?”

Percival smiled politely. “No thanks. I think I’ll just meet him down there.”

“Sure thing.” Thomas resisted the urge to slam the door in his face.

Logan was frozen in the kitchen. The only thing separating him from the front door was a wall. He didn’t dare to even breathe until he saw Thomas in the doorway. Before either of them could think to say anything, Logan’s phone started to ring. He felt his blood run cold.

“Don’t answer it,” Thomas said softly.

He didn’t.

That wasn’t an isolated incident, as it turned out. Percival came back the next day to ask where Logan had been — claimed he was worried because his calls were going unanswered. Thomas handled it with surprising grace, having a believable lie at the ready, but it wasn’t enough. Percival kept calling and when that inevitable day came where Logan had to go back to school, he couldn’t avoid him. And Thomas wasn’t there to help.

Nothing happened besides subtle anger and vague threats. Logan knew that the only thing saving him was being in public. He knew that once school was out, that there would be little time to get away. Percival wasn’t patient. So he sent Thomas a text to pick him up right as school ended. It wasn’t as if he would say no — he was wary to let Logan go to school at all — but Logan was still scared. Thomas was already doing so much for him. He didn’t want to push the limit.

Thomas: I could get you right now

As much as that appealed to Logan, he couldn’t. He was already making Thomas miss work to pick him up after school. Having him pick him up now would just be worse. He declined the offer, insisting he was fine. For now.

Once the final bell rang, Logan was the first one out of the classroom door. He wasn’t normally one to be so eager to leave, but right now he wanted to get home as soon as possible.

A hand grabbed his shoulder once he spotted Thomas’s car. "Leaving so soon?"

Every muscle in Logan's body froze. He let Percival spin him around to see his displeased face.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he continued. "The least you can do is come over so we can catch up on lost time. I was wondering what happened to you."

"I was busy," Logan mumbled. He tried to stand his ground, but Percival was more determined than him.

"Well, you're not now. So come with me. We have a lot to talk about."

Logan couldn't respond. He couldn't move away.

"Hey, Logan!"

Oh, thank Christ.

They turned to see Thomas running up to them. "We gotta help Joan set up their place for Talyn, remember?"

Logan had no idea how Thomas could lie on the spot like that despite hating lying so much.

"But Logan was just saying how he was going to stop by real quick." His fingers dug into Logan's shoulder. "Right?"

"Sorry, but this has to be done by — like — yesterday." He offered his hand out to Logan, who took it gratefully. "Maybe some other time."

Percival relented his hold. "Sure. Some other time."

Thomas flashed him a smile and dragged Logan back to his car.

Before they even got to the apartment, Thomas was already devising a plan to keep Percival far away. First thing first, Logan needed to be transferred to another school. There was no way he was spending another second of forced interaction with his abuser. Second, there needed to be a phone number change.

Logan listened to his near-ranting as they walked up to their apartment. He didn't have any input. What was there to say? This was a sucky situation from all angles.

"You'll have to stay with Valerie until this whole thing blows over."

That caught Logan's attention. Panic hijacked his senses, and words were leaving his mouth before he could stop them. "No! Please don't leave me somewhere. I don't want to be away from you."

"Logan —"

"Please. I, I can't be alone again. I'll do anything. Whatever you want — I'll do it."

"Oh, no, Logan —"

"Don't leave. Please. Please don't leave. How will I know when you'll be back? What if I have to get moved around again? What if you're gone for good this time and I don't see you again?"

"Logan, stop." Thomas cupped his face with his hands. Firm, but gentle. Just to get him to stop his erratic movements and focus on something. "I'm not going to abandon you, okay? I'm…" He studied Logan's face. "Alright. We'll both go to Valerie's. I'll have Joan keep an eye on the place." He wiped Logan's cheeks of the tears he didn't even notice he shed. "I'm not leaving you, bear."

For the first time in several days, Logan hugged Thomas.

~~~

“Well, since you just fell for me you should probably know my name, at least. I’m Patton.”

~~~

Logan was nineteen when he met Patton. He was nineteen when they started dating. And he had never felt… more like a kid. Patton was silly, and kind, and loved dumb puns. Whether he knew it or not, he was helping Logan unlearn everything Percival taught him. It wouldn’t be perfect. There would still be emotional scars that would never heal, but he would be able to function again. He wouldn’t start every day in fear of what would happen. Patton made things okay.

They had been dating for exactly a year when they kissed for the first time.

It was in the evening. Logan was planning on spending the night so they were in Patton’s room (Logan had to answer at least twenty different texts from Thomas to assure him that he was fine and he’d call if anything happened). It felt like sleeping over at Cara’s again; there wasn’t much of a plan to go to sleep, just to have fun. At around midnight, Patton sprung up from his spot on the floor and excitedly claimed to have an idea.

Logan didn’t even get the chance to process what happened before Patton was searching through his closet. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” He pulled a box out and grabbed an even smaller box from within it. “My parents sent this to me before they found out I took in Emile and D. And, well, you know what happened after that.” He took out a globe-like projector and plugged it in before shutting off the lights.

“Patton —” the rest of his words died on his lips when Patton turned it on. Dozens of specks showed up on the ceiling. Like someone took a paintbrush and flung white paint across the room. Then he noticed that some of those specks weren’t random. They were constellations. These were stars.

“That’s a lot better than I thought it would look,” Patton laughed. He sent a grin over to Logan. “What do you think?”

Logan tore his eyes away from the ceiling. He tried to bite back a smile, but he couldn’t help it. “I think it’s wonderful.”

Patton gave him that look again. Like he mattered more than anything in the world. He did it a lot, but Logan still didn’t understand why. He continued to study Logan’s face before asking softly, “Can I kiss you?”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his chest, yet he still nodded. He practically melted when it happened.

It was gentle. A soft presence against his mouth that was different than anything before. The unique, strange feeling of someone else’s lips. It was like fresh chocolate chip cookies, and the Jabberwocky poem, and guessing the names of random dogs on the street. And then it was over.

It took Logan a second to open his eyes again.

Patton was a breath away, his eyes sparkling under the synthetic stars. “Was that too much?” He backed up a fraction more.

Logan pulled him in for another kiss.

~~~

Patton wasn’t supposed to know that Logan could play the guitar. Truth be told, he hadn’t touched it in a while. But he opened his closet to put something away, and there was the case. He didn’t think much about it; it had been in there so long already that he ignored it.

But Patton didn’t.

He spotted it and gasped so loud that Logan felt his heart shoot to his throat.

“I didn’t know you could play guitar!”

Oh crap. Logan glared at the case like it made its presence known on purpose. “Sort of.”

“Can you play something for me? Please?” He brought out his puppy eyes and kind smile. “Just one song.”

“I-I don’t know. I’m really not that good.”

“Normally, I take your word for things, but not for this. I have to hear for myself.”

Logan held back a grimace. Patton was determined. He may drop it now, but he’d bring it up another time, and another until eventually, Logan caved. “Fine.” He grabbed the case, ignoring the pang it sent to his chest at the thin layer of dust. “What do you want to hear?”

Patton resembled a puppy trying to hold in his excitement. “Something simple.”

Sure. Simple. He could do that. He sat beside Patton after taking the guitar out. It looked the same way he remembered. A bit older, and out of tune, but still the same. He almost forgot why he stopped playing it. As he placed his hands over the strings he remembered. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. As his panic rose, he tried to formulate a way to back out, but then he noticed Patton giving him a patient smile.

He couldn’t tell Patton why. That could change everything.

It was just one song. He could do that. He pushed all his fear far, far down and started strumming.

Hey there, Delilah What's it like in New York City? I'm a thousand miles away But, girl, tonight you look so pretty Yes, you do

He kept his head down the whole time. He couldn’t bring himself to look up as he noticed every single mistake he made. He half expected to be stopped when he got to the second verse, but that didn’t happen. Patton didn’t interrupt him or utter a single word. Not until he finished, at least.

“That was so good!” He clapped. “You’re amazing.”

Logan’s cheeks turned hot. “Not really. It’s just a guitar. Anyone can do that.”

“Even if that were true, not everyone can play and sing at the same time.”

Well. Maybe.

Later, after Patton left, Logan saw Thomas sitting on the kitchen counter. “So I heard you serenading Patton earlier,” he muttered with a smirk around his coffee mug.

“Shut up.”

~~~

If someone told Logan that he'd end up marrying Patton, he would have been convinced they were lying. There was no way Patton would stay with him that long. Patton was wonderful, and sweet, and caring, and good, and Logan was just… Logan. There was nothing spectacular about that.

But as it turned out, Patton thought he was the most wonderful thing to grace his presence.

They did get married.

Logan couldn't believe that it happened. He was in disbelief the whole day. It didn't sink in that Patton chose him of all people until that night when they gazed up at the artificial stars on the ceiling. This was real. Patton wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. He could have had anyone else but he chose Logan.

And Logan was so glad that he did.

It had been such a long time since he felt this happy.

~~~

The social worker helping them with the adoption process was Mrs. Rachel Hernandez. She was nice. She reminded Logan of Miss Wilton.

Even with the kind assistance of Mrs. Hernandez, Logan was still very nervous. And now for several reasons. The very first and obvious being he wasn't sure he'd be a good dad — actually, that was most of the reasons. Another reason, unrelated to that, was the whole process reminded him of being torn away from his brother. It was silly, he knew, but the connection was still there. Along with all the anxieties it brought.

A lot of these kids were like him; stuck in an unfortunate circumstance that they had no say in. Logan was considered a lucky one. He got to return to his family. These kids were up for adoption because they weren't as lucky. He knew how it felt to lose everything you were familiar with and be thrust into the hands of strangers.

Then one day, after months of waiting, they had a match.

"I understand you were only intending to adopt one child," she started, and Logan wondered for a moment if this was how his first foster family was talked to when the prospect of siblings came up. "But Roman has a twin brother. We'd prefer to keep them together, but if you're adamant about only one then —"

"No," Logan blurted out before he could stop himself.

Mrs. Hernandez and Patton stared at him in wide-eyed shock. He normally kept quiet during these talks unless he had to answer something. And he never rose his voice like that.

His cheeks flushed. "I mean… I would prefer to not separate any siblings."

Mrs. Hernandez turned to Patton for his opinion.

"Uh," he tore his eyes away from Logan. "Yeah. I agree with that sentiment."

After everything had been dealt with, they left the office. But when Patton sat in the driver's seat, he didn't start the car. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "So…" he started casually. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Logan pretended to be interested in the parking lot.

"You know what."

Ugh, it would have been so much better to ignore it. He sighed. "When I was put in foster care, they separated me from Thomas. So I know how it feels to not have your brother with you during one of the most stressful times in your life."

There was a pause. "You never told me that."

Logan shrugged. "I didn't want you to feel any worse for me than you already did."

Patton fumbled for a response, but in the end, he couldn't seem to find one at all.

The day they met Roman and Virgil, Logan was instantly reminded of being at Miss Wilton's side all those years ago. They were hesitant — scared — and didn't say a word. Logan knew better than anybody what they must be feeling.

Maybe that was the real reason they spoke to him first.

"Daddy!" Roman marched into the living room, a tiny scowl on his face. It was a day before their eleventh birthday "Virgil touched my stuff!"

"I did not!" Virgil shouted from the bedroom.

"Then why is it missing?"

"You didn't put it away."

Logan rolled his eyes. They had a habit of yelling across the house to each other. He blamed Patton. "Roman, if you're going to argue with your brother, at least do it in the same room."

Roman huffed and crossed his arms. "My color pencils are missing and I haven't touched them."

"Where did you leave them last?"

"In the room."

Logan stood up. "Let's go look for them, then." He followed Roman back to his bedroom. He still shared with Virgil. They didn't mind it yet, but Logan had a sneaking suspicion it would start soon.

Not even two minutes in the room and Logan found the color pencils. "They're right here."

"Oh." Roman took them with a sheepish grin.

"I told you you didn't put it away." Virgil stuck his tongue out at him. "This is why I'm Daddy's favorite." To emphasize his point, he hugged Logan's side.

Roman gasped dramatically. "No you're not — I am." He dropped his color pencils and rushed to Logan's other side. "Tell him I'm your favorite."

"Well, he's not because I'm his favorite."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Daddy!" Roman tugged on Logan's shirt. "Which one of us is right?"

"Neither of you. I don't have a favorite." He smirked at their disbelieving pouts. "You're both my little beasties. It's hard to have a favorite when you're tearing up the place all the time."

They took offense to that, blaming each other for the messes they made (together) and insisting that they were the good twin and the favorite because they cleaned up. It was only interrupted by the front door opening.

Roman gasped. "Dad's home."

"I'm gonna ask him who his favorite is." Virgil took off.

"It's gonna be me!" Roman followed after him.

Logan smiled at the commotion they created.

~~~

He sat on the bed with his wedding ring clasped tightly in his hand. Angry, hot tears still rolled down his cheeks and he hated it. He wanted to stop crying. It had been hours — why was he still crying?

He unfurled his fingers. There were indents in his palm from how tight he held his ring. He wanted to throw it. Break it. Do something to it. But he knew he would never bring himself to do anything he thought of. It would only upset him later.

So he put it back on.

It didn't feel right there anymore, but he couldn't bear to lose it.

He let the tears fall even as they turned from angry to distressed. He was an idiot, wasn't he? He should have known this life was too good to be true.

He wasn't destined to have a happy ending.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #thomas sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logicality #sibling prinxiety #relationship abuse tw #toxic relationship tw #attempted rape/non-con mention #anxiety attack tw #berry done au

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