#and while I imagined that 'verse here a bit tuned down

[nowandforalways]

"Never to change, ever to share...": An off-the-rails analysis of "Now And For Always" from the Lord of the Rings musical

Good day to you, my dears.

"Now And For Always" is my favorite song of all time and has been since I first heard it at age 16. With the revival of the musical giving us a ✨whole new arrangement✨ of the song, I decided now would be as good a time as any to analyze it as a whole and take a look at a few of the changes made to see how each version accomplishes exactly what it set out to accomplish with it's storytelling from a musical perspective.

A QUICK NOTE BEFORE WE START: While in the original production of the show, "Now And For Always" is clearly diegetic (that is, the characters in the show are actually singing the song in the world of the show), it's a bit more debatable in the new production. Samwise Gamgee is a wonder, but I find it hard to imagine him schlepping an entire guitar to Mordor - this ain't Hadestown, after all (the "Wait for me"/"And I'm coming with you" thing would require an entirely separate post 😉). Regardless, for the sake of analysis and also my sanity, we are going to say that the song is 100% diegetic in both versions of the show.

Key: NA = new/revival arrangement

OA = old/original arrangement

SO

First lets take a look at what stays the same between both versions (which is most of the song, tbh) and see what can be seen. We're gonna get lightly music-y here.

This song is in 6/8 time signature, which basically just means that it's counted out in two groups of 3 notes each - 123, 456 - with a sort of slope-y feeling to it, like rising up to 3 and falling back down to 6. You can also count it in a very slow 2/2 (1, 2), with each of those being on the 1 beat and then the 4 beat of the 6/8 counting pattern. This time signature has the effect of making it slow and relaxing, but still sound Hobbit-y, in a rather country-ish way. This time signature could technically become a very fast waltz, and it does lean into a natural sort of swaying motion when you listen to it. Perfect for singing around the fire.

The rhythm of the song itself is interesting because it's very speech-like. If you try to speak the words out loud in rhythm, it doesn't actually sound that off from a typical English speaking rhythm. This makes it very easy to learn, and very easy to add your own words to, as its implied Sam and Frodo are doing as they sing it. Lassi Longren, the composer of the song, said that it wanted it to sound like an old song that the Hobbits all know and sing around the fire, and the idea of a song like this with a chorus that everybody knows and then verses that are improvised by individual singers makes a lot of sense (makes me think of, like, "The Campfire Song" from The Lightning Thief - a song that is also in 6/8 and with a very speech-like rhythmic pattern).

The chordal structure also contributes to this homey, comfortable feeling. The song is in the key of D major, which is a fairly middling key (it's the key that most pennywhistles are automatically tuned to!), and is constructed around just 3 chords, with 1 more thrown in there if you want the cadence on "strange and rare" to sound correct. This makes it extreeeeeeemely easy to play - like I can barely play guitar, but I can reasonably play this. For the music nerds, the chords are I, IV, and V, with a little vi for that one cadence I mentioned earlier. This is essentially the most basic group of chords ever created, and it seems very intentional to me - it makes the whole thing feel comfortable and familiar, like it's an old song you know, even if it's your first time hearing it (Fun fact: The Shire theme from the Peter Jackson films uses also uses this chord group!). The only this about the song that might make it tricky to sing along with is its range - it's more than an octave, which can be hard to span if you're not a practiced singer. But you know, sometimes you just gotta have that fun melodic contour. Song gets boring if it stays all within too small of a range. :P

Okay so that's all the basic musical stuff that's the same between both arrangements. Time for the differences.

The most major musical differences in the NA as I can see are: Frodo and Sam switching who is singing the higher vocal part and who has the lower part during the second chorus, different instruments being used for the solo instrumental lines, and the whole of Frodo's solo verse and chorus. These all serve the major thematic change in this moment in the NA, but I'll get to that at the end.

First, the vocal lines in the chorus. You all know how much I looooove that Frodo is always on the lower part in the original show (see this whole post I wrote about it here!), and I equally love Sam getting the higher part in the OA for this song. It fits his character and part in the song very well - he started it off, he's done the improvising bit; after one chorus of unison to make sure that Frodo has a handle on the melody, he can pop off. Young, dreamy, surprisingly poetical Sam, with his love for elves & beauty & all things that grow, gets the chance to soar, while Frodo stays lower, hanging onto the melody. It almost works like foreshadowing for their characters, with Sam audibly choosing to do so much while it seems like Frodo is just there, but Frodo's actually doing the arguably far more important part of carrying the melody.

In the NA, they are flipped - now Sam stays on the melody while Frodo pops up to the higher part, and it still works just as well. Frodo's actually been on the higher part for the whole show up to this point, cause that's just how Louis Maskell rolls (the one very significant moment where he sings a lower harmony to Sam's melody is right before he leaves at the Grey Havens, which I could probably write a whole 'nother essay about), but it doesn't screw with the character perception in the way I had initially feared. Sam starts the song, Sam's got the guitar, so Sam stays on the melody, to carry the thing through. This now leaves Frodo free to do his thing with Sam's support. And this is where I start heading into headcanon territory, but I can't help but think by the easy way he slipped into it that maybe Frodo has sung this part before. He canonically has a nice voice (the Breelanders like it so much that they make him sing "The Man In The Moon Stayed Up Too Late" twice in the book!), and it would make sense for a naturally talented singer to get enough experience singing that they are able to whip out a higher part just for fun - maybe, if they ever sang this one down at the Ivy Bush, or by the fireplace in the parlor of Bag End, this was Frodo's part. And speaking from the same character perspective, Frodo is also everything I described Sam as before - dreamy, poetical, sweet - he's just older and, at this moment, significantly more tired both mentally and physically. But, he hasn't lost his hope yet, so he can still reach down and bring out a past version of Frodo, one who could sing that part in the song.

Next, the instruments. This is pretty simple; there aren't a lot of changes, but the one significant moment is the use of a harmonica instead of a fiddle for the solo in the middle of the song. Both versions of the show have instruments associated with certain characters (harp for Arwen, whistle for Frodo, concertina for Gollum, etc.) but the NA has the advantage of having all the actors play instruments, so it becomes rather explicit. In this case, the harmonica is being played by and associated with Bilbo, and that's neat, because this is a continuation of a story that he was also a part of. The fiddle in the OA is more representative of hobbits as a whole, so it also works in context.

Aaaaand the last one, the arrangement of Frodo's verse and chorus. This one is a doozy, because this is where we will be involving my theory on the different reasons for Sam starting the song.

So, the first time I heard the NA "Now And For Always", I actually started yelling IRL "IT'S A HYMN" as soon as it got to Frodo's verse+chorus, because, well, it is. Lemme explain. The orchestrations shift from the guitar and strings of the rest of the song so that Frodo is backed primarily by the ensemble singing "Oohs" and some sort of drone bass note underneath that I can't figure out (probably like a cello or something). The tempo suddenly becomes a lot slower and a lot less "bouncy", so to speak - that 6/8 time rising and falling pattern that I described before is significantly downplayed, and there are a lot more complete rests in the music, and that gives the whole thing overall a much straighter feel. This all gives a very hymn-like effect, particularly the "ooh"s, because voices moving between chords like that in a homophonic way (that is to say, everyone changes notes at the same time) is common in chorale-style hymns, and the drone, because having something called a "pedal point" (one note held underneath multiple chords) makes the music sound a lot older and more solemn. This is in contrast to the OA, which has, while not the exact same backing in Frodo's verse+chorus (it does get slower, and more smooth and flowing in the instruments), certainly much less contrast between Frodo's bit and the rest of the song than the NA. They both do this, but the NA just a bit more emphasizes how serious Frodo is about what he's saying. It's also is a texture that we haven't heard yet in the show and won't really hear again, so it kind of demonstrates the changes going on in Frodo by this point, like he's becoming something not quite of the world (sort of like all those comments in the book about him being "clear" or having a light shining through him). From a practical standpoint, it's also because Sam had been playing the guitar this whole time, and now he has gone to bed, so no more guitar. But above all, the vibe that making it sound like a hymn gives it is reverence, and that is important for the next bit.

Hoo boy, it's extrapolation/headcanon time. I've done a lot of actual musical analysis, but there comes a point where you have to take all those things you've gleaned and start spitballing about what they mean when combined all together. Here's what I have landed in: The changes in the NA reflect a change in Sam's motivation for starting the song in the first place.

Lemme explain.

In the scene before "Now And For Always", the boys are discussing Frodo's realization that destroying the Ring means that the elves will leave, and that there will be no more magic in the world. It's as they reflect on these very big changes that Sam starts singing a song about how at least some things stay the same. NOW. In the OA, Sam and Frodo start off the song in much the same place, emotionally - they're both kind of moody and mournful, feeling shaken at the idea of everything changing in such a big way, and missing the days when they believed that stories always ended with things returning to a happy normal. Sam's line "We hobbits only really like stories that end just the way they started, don't we?" is sort of a rueful realization that they are both severely freaked out by all of this because they come from a place that values unchangingness so highly. Sam starts the song as a way to bring them both some comfort by reminding them of home. He then fills in the bit about Frodo during the second verse because Frodo mentioned special folk and great adventures, they're both so tired that everything's funny, and Sam genuinely adores Frodo and knows how brave and important what he's doing is. Frodo's verse about Sam, in turn, is sung almost like a lullaby, which makes sense, as lullabies are often directed at the person falling asleep. So Frodo sings to Sam as he falls asleep about how much he admires him right back, sort of returning the compliment, like in the book. The way he says "it's not me they'll remember, you know" just before he starts singing has this weird sort of regretful tone to it, as if Frodo has kinda always known that his would be a thankless task, and that Sam, taking charge and leading them around and taking care of them, will be the one who goes down in history as being instrumental. He has been seeing this whole time how much Sam has done for him, and he knows that in time, others will too.

In the NA, on the other hand, the vibes of the scene before the song are somewhat different. The lines do not change at all, but the attitude from each of them is different. Here, we have the exact same conversation, but Frodo is audibly more stressed about it (not to mention more audibly exhausted), and Sam, in response, is keeping his tone very neutral, almost lighthearted at times. That general vibe continues into the song, which I thought was weird at first, until I realized what Sam is doing. Frodo is very shaken by all the big changes that he sees coming, so Sam responds by reminding him about the songs that they used to sing the Ivy Bush - the ones where nothing ever really changes. He says the line from above about hobbits liking stories that end the way they started like he's reminding Frodo of a fun fact, which is that despite everything going on around him, there are still plenty of stories about heroes where things are allowed to go back to the way they were. In other words, while the OA of "Now And For Always" is two people trying to comfort themselves by singing something that reminds them of home, the NA is Sam Gamgee Is Going To Cheer Up His Best Buddy Or Die Trying, first by reminding him that plenty of things do stay the same, and then by getting a bit silly and describing Frodo as one of the heroes (who, I will remind you, are allowed to go home unchanged). He goes until he sees a sign that he has succeeded somewhat in his quest - remember my headcanon about Frodo singing the higher part being indicative of his old self shining through? That could certainly be a signal to Sam that his little idea worked. More likely, the fact that Frodo starts waxing poetic about plum cake (which is so valid of him, tbh) when a few minutes ago he had to be ordered to sit down and eat something is also a sign to Sam that Frodo feels better, at least for the moment. So he feels alright to go to sleep. And then Frodo sings his part. And THAT'S why the reverent tone I mentioned earlier is so important. Because it makes it seem like Frodo also realizes, in this moment, what Sam has just been doing, and what Sam has been doing this whole time. The pauses in the music make it seem like he's coming to awareness, step by step, of just how much Sam has done for him, and the only possible emotional response for something that earth-shatteringly loving is reverence. And THAT'S why the NA ending works so gosh darn well - it gets across everything that Frodo is thinking and feeling in this moment with the music as well as the lyrics.

So, yeah. I don't have, like, much of a conclusion for all this. These are just a bunch of things that I observed about these two songs and then my brain running absolutely buckwild with extrapolating conclusions from there. And a lot of this is my own interpretation of what I hear, so if you thought something different, that's totally fine! Also, this is entirely based on only being able to hear what's going on, so if you've seen the show and I got the vibes super off for part of it, please let me know. :)

Thank you for reading, and I hope to see you around! Heyday!

EDIT: The more I think about it and try to feel it in my body, I might call the time signature a very fast 3/4. Regardless, all my points still stand. Just wanna cover all my musical bases. :)

[undreaming-fanfiction]

With This Ring (11)

Chapter 10 here, Ao3 here

They met Dart and Ozzy in front of the Buckley house. The elderly cat just announced that everything was in order, and that he was too old for all this excitement. “I’m going to take a nap home before Dustin organizes a search party for me,” he yawned. “Ozzy will stay with you. I’ll come to check on you around lunchtime, so no more scandals and escapades, please.” 

Eddie crouched to scratch his head as a thank you. “Sleep well, Dart.” He then picked up Ozzy and safely stashed him in his usual pocket. 

Robin’s house was, as always, peaceful. The sight of the imperfect garden made to be used, not just viewed, the peeling window paint, the weird gnome statuettes peeking from random corners, it all made Steve feel more at home than he’d ever been in his own house. The woods by the back window were dark and quiet. If they were careful, they wouldn’t be heard or seen by anyone.

The whole house was dark too. Steve was confused, Robin should have been home, but maybe she had a sleepover with Nancy, you know, to console her friend after the groom had disappeared. He hoped that was the case. 

Eddie was eyeing the colorful front door. “Do you want me to break in? If you have a hairpin or something like that, I’m like ninety percent confident I could pick the lock.”

Steve laughed out loud. “While it sounds absolutely charming, we’re trying to look inconspicous. Let’s go for the boring solution instead.” With that, he reached under the ugliest gnome statuette - it had amanitas growing out of its beard, why? - and produced the key.

“You really know how to show a guy a good time,” grumbled Eddie, but followed him through the door anyway. 

Not even an hour later, they were ready to start recording. Steve brewed a huge pot of coffee to keep him awake. He didn’t think he could sleep anyway, but Eddie was giving him secret guilty looks at every suppressed yawn, even suggesting Steve could take a nap, that Eddie would keep watch, no worries. “I haven’t slept in a year, so I didn’t realize,” he muttered through a strand of hair he was chewing on. “I don’t want you fainting mid-song, and that couch looks comfy enough, so how about it?” 

Steve just gave him a blank stare and downed a massive mug of coffee in one go, almost burning his tongue on it. As if he’d waste a single second he could spend with Eddie. 

Their setup was small, but Steve thought it didn’t need anything else. The beauty of Eddie’s music was that it didn’t require a huge band or an orchestra to pull on the listener’s heartstrings. Eddie didn’t have any formal musical education, he didn’t know all the fancy words like legato, crescendo or forte. But he had a feel for music so great that even his high school music teacher who otherwise hated his guts had to admit he had potential. 

When they were still allowed to meet, younger, enamored with music and each other’s company, Eddie would hum his melodies, usually choosing the acoustic guitar to carry the main tune. He kept playing them over and over again, giving Steve space to experiment with potential accompaniments. He only occasionally took over the piano and gave instructions such as “I thought this part could use a bit more force, you know. I’ll go quieter on the guitar, and the piano will become the main instrument until the next verse, what do you think? It should be something like a dialogue between the two instruments. Imagine I’m rambling, and you really want to say something, so you start speaking at the same time and going louder and louder, hoping I’ll get the drift and shut up.” 

He trusted Steve with this work, and Steve was so grateful. He vowed never to disappoint Eddie, and to that day he hoped he hadn’t, at least not when it came to music. 

As he sat down at the piano, he gently stroked the familiar keys. His eyes were burning again. He’d prayed for the day when he’d be able to do this with Eddie again, only to realize that this would be the last time they’d ever play together. 

Eddie had just finished tuning the guitar to his liking. He shifted on the stool to face Steve and smiled. “I missed this, you know.” 

Steve returned the smile as well as he could. “Me too. It hadn’t been the same without you.” 

Shrugging, Eddie ran his fingers across the strings, stretching and adjusting his grip. “Eh, I think you were doing just fine without me. I liked your adjustments to the chorus of “Remains of the day”, they make it sound a bit more playful. The original sound was a bit too creepy.” 

His tone was flat, as if it was just a simple observation. But Steve’s hands stilled over the keyboard, staring at Eddie with mouth wide open. “How…” he choked out, “...how do you know? I made them only a few months back. You’ve never...I mean, you were already-” 

“Steve.” There was no malice in Eddie’s words, but his smile faltered. It was still there, yet somehow sad. “Are you telling me you haven’t noticed?” 

“Noticed what?” 

The dead man pointed towards the dark trees behind the window glass. “Where this window leads.” 

Steve’s eyes finally betrayed him. He rapidly blinked, but one tear made it out and rolled down his cheek, between his lips. He tasted the salt as he remembered all the times he’d sat here, playing Eddie’s melodies from memory whenever Nancy and Robin decided to go upstairs to have more privacy. 

There wasn’t a single visit when he wouldn’t play them. Steve felt the constant urge to keep repeating them, committing them to memory. He wanted to burn them into his brain so he could never lose a single detail. Maybe one day, when he’d succeeded begging Eddie for his forgiveness, he’d play them for him. He would show Eddie that he never let himself forget, never stopped thinking about him . 

He pictured himself sitting there, tens, hundreds of times. The window was usually open to sell the illusion that Robin was playing during their visits. And even in the dark, Steve realized where the narrow path between the trees led - to the small clearing in the woods, to the freshly dug hole in the ground where someone had buried Steve’s heart. 

“No way,” he whispered. The taste of salt on his lips didn’t relent, and he didn’t try to control it any longer. “You heard me? You heard me all this time when…?” 

Eddie nodded. For a moment, it seemed like he wanted to get up, maybe join Steve at the piano, but then he changed his mind. Instead, he started fidgeting with his rings again. “Yeah. Not to inflate your ego, Steve, but oh well. We’ve come this far. You were my main reason for not moving on.” 

He huffed a short laugh when Steve gave him a confused, teary-eyed look. “It’s true. I was lying there for a while, and you know how much I hate staying still. I was considering giving up and just moving on for quite a while. But whenever I thought I could give it all up, just forget my dreams and all that was keeping me here, I heard you. It was like a part of me was still up here, waiting to be reclaimed. You were safeguarding my songs, and I of course knew I could never come back, but somehow…I just hoped, Steve. I didn’t think, I just…hope isn’t the correct word. I yearned to come back, that’s it. Because there was someone calling me back every single day.” 

Steve’s eyes didn’t leave him for a second. “But everyone down there said…they said that you were playing all the time. Practicing.” 

“I did. And it drove me crazy that my own songs didn’t sound right anymore. I tried replicating everything I’d heard from you, but…” Fondness crept into Eddie’s voice, as if he was recalling a precious memory. “It never sounded right. I blamed it on the corpse fingers, the stiffness of dead muscles, but I guess I was lying to myself. Playing these songs by myself just wouldn’t do because you became a part of them. They weren’t complete without you.” 

“Eddie…” 

Eddie shushed him. “And if you think that I was listening to you just because I had nothing better to do, well, you might be partially right. But also…I’d known you kept playing my songs long before I died, you know. Why do you think I was in the woods the day I died? It’s not like I’m one of those crazy fans of nature who love walking in the woods, getting all muddy and wet and collecting ticks and other bloodsucking creatures. I’d known about your playing for months, Steve. And I…uh.” He pulled a strand of hair in front of his face, hiding his expression. “I actually kept going there a lot. I sat on that tree stump, listening to my, well, our songs. I still hated your guts, but a part of me felt so happy that you seemed to have as much trouble letting me go as I had you.” 

Steve was hit with a sudden wave of nausea and numbness. His fingers were still laid on the keyboard, but their feel was now uncertain, foreign. “So you're telling me that all this time it was me?” he whispered. It hurt to even voice his thoughts. “It was me who kept you trapped in that grave? Who…who lured you there to be killed?! If I let you go, you could have had peace. You…you could have even lived! Eddie, I don’t even know how to begin to say how sorry I am. Nothing I say will ever be enough.” Steve withdrew his hands from the piano, wrapping them around his body. “You gave me so much and I…I made things worse every single time. I caused this. All of this.” 

He didn’t see it when Eddie set down his guitar, but he heard the hollow thunk of it. The clinking of Eddie’s metal chain, the squeaking of his old sneakers, it used to feel so right. But now…

Eddie nudged his side and squeezed next to him onto the wide stool. “Hey, Steve. Let me say something. Sure, we’ve had our not so great moments, with your dad’s blackmail and stuff like that. But, and get your eyes up here, Harrington, I’m being earnest and I demand an audience for it!” 

When Steve’s wet eyes found his, Eddie snuck his arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him close. Steve leaned into the embrace with a quiet sob, clutching Eddie’s band t-shirt. Eddie didn’t seem to mind. “Apart from the whole protecting me and Wayne through being a dick, you didn’t cause me any pain. Really. You have no idea how much our friendship meant to me.” 

Steve’s face was buried in Eddie’s jacket, but he still managed to produce a “huh?” sound. 

“It did. When I moved here, I didn’t know anyone, and Wayne was trying to figure out how to make it work with the plant shifts and stuff. I was bullied all the time, I wasn’t much of a looker without my hair. So I just thought I’d spend all the time until my graduation keeping to myself, which was lonely as hell. The music room helped. And then one day…a pretty boy who had to have tens of friends approached me and asked me to teach him. I felt so lucky.”

Steve still wouldn’t show his face, but his arms around Eddie’s waist tightened. “Pretty sure it was me who was lucky. You changed my life.”

Eddie squeezed his shoulders, cradling Steve close. “Shush. This is my life changing story, get your own. For some reason, that pretty boy chose me. Even though I was mostly flying through the playing and teaching blind, he kept coming back. Not just that - he actually listened to me. He heard my rambling, all those unrealistic plans, dreams, the outrageous ideas, and he believed in me.”

Steve had finally settled against him, his breathing under control again. Eddie continued. “Do you remember when we started playing together, Steve? I was so freaking anxious because I realized I couldn’t possibly play both instruments at the same time when I finally got to record my stuff. And I couldn’t ask anyone because I couldn’t write or read the stupid sheet music. Still can’t, by the way. But you just sat down at the piano and told me: “Tell me what you need me to play. I’ll do it.” You said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world, to spend all your free afternoons playing what I threw at you. As if you didn’t have anything better, more important to do.” 

That finally made Steve stir in Eddie’s arms. He straightened his back and looked Eddie in the eyes, wiping away the rogue tears. “I didn’t. It was the most important thing to me, Eddie. And still is. Likely will always be.”

Eddie wasn’t really thinking, he just reached out and ruffled Steve’s hair. It was so different with all the product in it, but there was a touching familiarity in the gesture. They used to ruffle each other’s hair when Eddie’s finally decided to grow out and looked like a wild nest of curls. “No neat hairstyles in my music class, Harrington! Go wild and go home!” he’d say.

“I’m glad to hear that,” whispered Eddie and god, he wasn’t lying. Being an important part of Steve Harrington’s life was addictive. Intoxicating. “So how about a small practice before we start recording, big boy? I recall you liking that four hand piece we adapted from Back to the Future.” He extended his hand, as if he was asking Steve to dance. “Accompany my beloved nerdy music, my liege?” 

Steve beamed at him. “My pleasure, lord Edward,” he said and took his hand. 

The night was long and Steve gradually drank the whole pot of coffee. He couldn’t imagine preferring sleep to this. The moment they both sat down at the piano, it was as if they were two puzzle pieces that belonged together. Something clicked, and Steve felt whole again. Compared to that, sleep was ridiculously overrated. 

Not everything went smoothly, of course. Eddie had made some adjustments to the music during their time apart, and it took Steve a while to catch up, to bridge the gaps. They mused and tried out new passages, re-did the old ones, played around with the cassette recorder to get the perfect balance for both instruments. But most of all, they just revisited the past and brought back the best of it. 

The recording was supposed to take long hours, but Steve supposed theirs was an exception. After all, what was there to improve on when all of these songs had been cherished, perfected and preserved over many long years? Eddie’s more recent changes made sense to Steve, it was enough to hear them just once, twice, and then they blended into what he’d already known. His ankle still hurt as he used the pedals, but Bob’s bandage kept it fixed in place well enough. 

Not all of Eddie’s songs had lyrics, but for the ones that had, Steve admired how Eddie’s voice had grown into them. It was more hoarse and less polished than when they’d practiced the last time, but there was emotion and maturity that the sixteen year old Eddie Munson hadn’t possessed. Now, his voice was perfect. 

They only had a few breaks, a bunch for coffee, one for Steve to take a quick shower to make sure he was fully alert, and then one to share a cigarette outside. Eddie complained about not having had a smoke for over a year. Steve got up and reached blindly behind a potted plant to produce a well-concealed pack of cigarettes and a lighter. With an awestruck expression, Eddie grasped his hand and squeezed it. “I could just marry you right here, Steve Harrington. Oh wait!” he laughed and wiggled his ringed finger at him. Steve’s heart didn’t beat faster after that, nope, not at all.

Eventually, they saw the sun rise through the trees. They’d just finished going through their final recording, with Eddie’s comments and introductions before each song. Steve squeezed Eddie’s hand. “If that Craig guy doesn’t love it, he has no taste,” he announced. He felt ridiculously proud. 

“One can only hope.” Eddie shrugged off his jacket and, after an annoyed squeak, removed Ozzy from the comfort of the chest pocket. “Hey, do you think the Buckleys have some fruit they could spare? Ozzy gets really bitchy when he’s hungry.” 

Steve laughed at that and dragged Eddie towards the kitchen. “Don’t we all? Let me just open a window, the air here is horrible.” 

Leaving the living room to breathe a little, they made their way to the kitchen’s fruit bowl. “He likes sweet apples,” muttered Eddie as he dug through the neatly arranged pile of produce. “Does this look sweet to you?” 

Steve took the apple from him and bit into it. “Yep, sweet. Let me cut it for him.” Noticing Eddie’s confused look, he laughed again. “What, you don’t think Ozzy is important enough to have his own taste tester?” 

“I do now.” 

Steve switched the kettle on again. It wasn’t that he needed another cup of coffee, but it was morning, and as they say, old habits die hard. He worked fast with the knife, chopping the apple into small cubes. The sound of water boiling was familiar and comforting, and having Eddie by his side in the kitchen when he was preparing breakfast? It could have been the only thing he needed in his life, he thought. 

There was a quiet sound behind them, but it got drowned out by the kettle. Maybe a draft from the open window rustled the torn plastic wrap of the tape they used. 

“So…” began Eddie, playing with his rings again. “What now? When does the post open?” 

“I took one of those padded envelopes with us, and a bunch of stamps my dad had in his office. So if you know the address, we can just pack it and send it through that collection box we passed yesterday. Do you want to add some sort of an introduction, a letter or something?” 

Eddie rubbed his temples, sighing. “I should. Let me do that. You have a paper and a pen in that magical bag of yours?” 

“Sure do.” 

They made their way back to the living room. While Steve served Ozzy a bowl of neatly cut fruit, Eddie sat down to the decorative table and started writing, his tongue sticking out in concentration. “Dear…Craig. I hope…you didn’t forget about me. Here’s…the demo…I promised. You can…do whatever you want…with it, I don’t think I’ll be able…to work on it again. But…if it makes any money…my part goes to Wayne. You know Wayne. And…you won’t be a dick to Wayne, will you?” He paused, tapping his pen against the paper. Then he added: “Thanks for giving me a chance, I appreciate it. Take care…Eddie Munson.” 

While he was writing, Steve was carefully walking around the room, cleaning the mess they’d made. He was just picking up the torn plastic wrap and got stuck thinking that it seemed too much? They only opened one tape. It was probably normal and he was just tired. He also swept up the dirt and a bunch of small feathers they must have brought from their smoke break. His father called it a stupid itch, but cleaning gave him a purpose and clarity. 

He also tried to nudge Ozzy away from the half-eaten bowl of fruit to clean under him, but the small creature wouldn’t budge. He was splayed on the table and playfully bit into Steve’s finger when he attempted to move him. Message received loud and clear. 

As he finished putting the room to its original state, Eddie was already standing by the door, envelope in hand. “Shall we?” he asked.

Steve wanted nothing less than to walk out of that door. It was yet another step towards losing Eddie forever, but it was the right thing to do. “Sure,” he nodded and grabbed the keys. “Ozzy, are you coming?” 

The small bat squeaked at him, and while Steve still couldn’t understand what he was saying, the tone was clear. Ozzy was still lying on the table, flat as a pancake, and moving him would probably start another world war. 

Eddie patted Steve’s shoulder. “The window is open, he’ll let himself out when he wants to. Plus I’m sure he still has some fruit there. See you later, buddy!” 

With an awkward wave at their winged friend, they left Robin’s house and locked the door. 

Steve didn’t know what to expect from the rest of his day. Dropping the envelope in the collection box was the only clear point in his future. He remembered staring at the yellow package, at Eddie’s wild handwriting, and he felt an overwhelming urge to tear it out of Eddie’s hands and stomp on it. He wanted to keep Eddie right here with him, tell him that they could actually do better, they could stay for a few days, weeks, months to practice, to improve their work. Maybe people wouldn’t be able to tell Eddie was dead. Maybe he could still achieve his dreams, if only-

But then Eddie dropped the envelope in the box and that potential future, the future where Eddie finally achieved what he’d dreamed of for over a decade, dissolved in front of Steve’s eyes. 

From Eddie’s sad smile, his thoughts followed a similar pattern. “It’s going to be okay,” he told Steve, maybe himself too. 

Just as they were about to walk back and go collect the stuff they had left at the Buckley house, Steve heard a shout. “You! Steve!” 

It wasn’t excited or joyful. Or even angry. Robin’s voice was shaking, and it sounded like she was battling a panic attack. 

Steve turned around and hobbled towards her. She was still wearing yesterday’s clothes and was disheveled, even for her standards. “Robin? What’s wrong?” 

She sprinted to him and hit his chest, again and again, and it took Steve a moment to realize she was crying. “Where…the fuck…have you been?!” she snapped at him with each hit. “We were so worried! I thought…I…”

Eddie quietly joined them. He didn’t say anything, just observed. 

Robin finally stopped hitting him and collapsed against Steve in a forceful hug, burying her face in his chest. “Everything went so wrong, Steve,” she whispered. “So wrong. We weren’t careful enough, Nancy’s dad, he…he found out. He’s furious. He locked Nancy in her room and had his friend’s son keep watch over her window so she wouldn’t escape. He also kept me in their house until he could reach my parents in the morning to tell them how I…” she grimaced, “...how I ruined his daughter.” 

Steve was stroking her back, his thoughts racing. “But your parents know. They don’t care, right?” 

“They don’t. When he couldn’t get them to be angry about it, he kicked me out of his house. Just now. But Ted fucking Wheeler can’t have a queer daughter.” She was crying even harder now, hands grasping at Steve’s t-shirt. “He told her she’ll get married no matter what. But not to you, because he knows how you covered for us. He doesn’t trust you to fix her.” She spat out the last sentence in helpless anger. 

“That guy’s a monster,” Eddie whispered. Steve wholeheartedly agreed. 

Robin kept on rambling, and every word she uttered made Steve’s heart sink even more. “She’s still getting married, he made sure to arrange that, and as soon as possible. It’s today…in an hour. He told her that if she doesn’t comply, she’ll be dead to him and will never be allowed to see her siblings again. She loves Mike and Holly, Steve, she couldn’t live without them. She…I think she’s going to go through with it. Maybe she’ll think of something, but I couldn’t get to her, I couldn’t even talk to her, and there is no time, Steve. Nancy is so smart, but I can’t see a way out of this that won’t destroy her life.” 

“I’m so sorry, Robs. Robin…” Steve squeezed her shoulders and pulled her away, just to see her face. “Robin. This is important. Who is she marrying?” 

Her lip wobbled as she said, “Jason Carver. Apparently his parents are eager to find him a good wife and forget the whole Chrissy fiasco.” 

A loud gasp made both Robin and Steve snap out of their misery. Eddie was staring past them, eyes open wide in his shock. “Not him,” he whispered. “Anyone but him.” 

Steve turned to Eddie, still keeping an arm around Robin. “Have you met him?” he asked. 

“Oh, I have.” Eddie’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “He’s a good Christian boy, that’s for sure. If Wheeler marries him, he’ll never let her go. He knows what life’s supposed to look like, and if she happens to disagree? Tough luck. Especially in Hawkins.” 

Robin stared at Eddie and something dawned behind her eyes. “You…Eddie, right? Are you…okay? You don’t seem okay. When did you even come back to Hawkins?” 

Eddie opened his mouth to answer, but Steve took both of their hands and tugged them forward to get them moving. “Can you give Robin the short version while we’re walking, Eddie? I’m afraid we’re on a tight schedule. We have a wedding to crash.” 

Eddie grinned at him. “I take my sarcasm back, Harrington. You really do know how to show a guy a good time.” 

Chapter 12 here

[in-love-with-funtime-freddy]

I'm having a hard time finding lore of your anthro verse. What do FT Freddy and Bon-Bon do, do they perform for kids in a circus similar to canon lore? What are their jobs, how did they meet each other? 💖

Yeah I haven’t shared much info on this AU yet other than a few facts here and there (which mostly has to do with them and their kids) but here’s this info for now :’V it ended up being a lil longer than I expected so prepare yourselves adhjfbfhg

So you’re definitely right about their jobs!!! They work at an actual circus here along with the other Funtimes!

As for how Freddy and Bon Bon met Freddy’s the one that started this idea and at some point while holding auditions Bon Bon was one of the ones that auditioned and Freddy knew he so had to hire to him after how much they both made each other laugh. Eventually outside of that they’d come across each other in other places and would always get excited seeing the other. They start to get to know each other more and Bon Bon starts to show more of his sweet side that Freddy loves and feels comfortable with and is the only one that could ever calm Freddy down especially by his touches. Bon Bon loves how Freddy can make him laugh more than anyone has ever made him and sometimes even gets Bon Bon to be as mischievous as him.

They start to date so you can imagine how much happier they are seeing each other at work greeting each other with hugs and kisses. Sometimes it’s impossible to separate them they just love being around each other so much. Freddy loves bringing him some surprises/gifts (a lot of the times before their shows start) and Bon Bon would obviously get so happy about it and would so give him lots of kisses while caressing him and the two would just stare so lovingly into each other’s eyes.

After years of being together during one of their shows Freddy has a special surprise for Bon Bon. He proposes. Bon Bon obviously says yes and eventually finally get married!!

Some time later they find out they’re expecting. You can imagine how happy they both were about it (stay tuned for one of the next asks I’ll answer this week ;3) and of course they start preparing and think they have everything ready until they find out they’re having twins!! It’s of course a shock but still just as happy as the first time they found out! They planned on having more than one kid anyway so it was more than fine but now they have to make sure they have enough of everything for them both when the time comes.

They ended up being due a week earlier so you can imagine how much of a surprise this was but also a bit worrying since Freddy was at work while Bon Bon was home. He does end up taking Bon Bon to the hospital and after a while they finally got to see their babies for the first time!! Bon Bon named Frida while Freddy named Harmony.

Ever since they were babies it was obvious which dad they’d be closer with. Frida would be alright when Freddy would hold her for a while but eventually starts crying and screaming until Bon Bon holds her. Same when Bon Bon would hold Harmony she’d be alright for a while but at some point she’d bite and kick him until Freddy would hold her. They both do love both their dads equally but just have this preference who they want to be around the most.

Bon Bon would be the one that mostly stays at home with the kids so either Freddy would stop the act he did with Bon Bon for a while or sometimes Bonnet would fill in. Since she wasn’t really in the show much (and mostly just wants to be with her gf Funtime Chica) she’d be the one who’d babysit the kids when a babysitter was needed. Sometimes the other Funtimes would help too. Bonnet is like this really fun aunt that gets what each of the girls are like and while she is more playful she can listen to Frida if she needs a talk or even tries to ask if she’d like to do anything like watch a movie or talk about her favorite books and obviously still respects Frida’s wishes of being left alone but still keeps an eyes out if she needs help

Freddy and Bon Bon would start to bring their kids to the circus to watch them perform and Harmony would get the most excited and while Frida thinks it’s also nice she can’t be close to a crowd for too long so sometimes her dads would ask if she wants to wait in the back like one of her dads’ dressing room until it’s over. The only one there Frida doesn’t mind being around much is Ballora. She gets annoyed by Funtime Foxy the most. Harmony on the other hand purposely annoys Foxy. She really admires Funtime Chica and sometimes spends time with her having fun like doing each other’s makeup or dressing up. Sometimes Chica would ask Frida if she’d like to join but she doesn’t like wearing anything bright so it’s a pass for her. Harmony also likes playing with Baby. Frida doesn’t really know how to feel about Baby but can get annoyed by her sometimes.

By the time they’re teens they have a little more freedom so Freddy and Bon Bon would trust them to stay alone when coming home from school or even go wherever they please but will admit they start to miss having them around at work since they’d love seeing them smile and laugh at what they do. Harmony still goes there once in a while but it’s even more rare for Frida to go there anymore. She mostly spends time at home watching movies or reading books about horror since they’re very comforting to her. Also since she’s alone she takes this opportunity to sing which she actually loves doing and while she’s good at it she doesn’t think much of doing anything with that it just feels nice to do so. If Frida ever needs any kind of help (after getting a panic attack or her anxiety getting to her) she’d sometimes call Bon Bon and he’d drop whatever he’s doing to be there for her.

Harmony does like the thought of eventually working there maybe even taking after Freddy. Only thing that holds her back for now is school, hanging out with friends, and activities she loves doing like singing, dancing, shopping, gymnastics, and soccer. She has very few times done an act or two at some point. She’s determined to get what she wants so she has a high chance of working there especially since she’s very good. Freddy loves the idea of her taking over someday so he’s very supportive of that.

There’s like more you could know for this AU especially if you’re curious about anything like wanting to know more about anything I mentioned or something I didn’t mention whether that’d about characters, ocs, relationships, or anything at all but here’s this for now :’V

[asidesandbsides]

Starts With L

Led Zeppelin - Immigrant Song / Hey, Hey, What Can I Do

AaaaaaaaaAAAAAaaaaaAH! Yep, that sounds just like it's supposed to. Truth be told, I might enjoy listening to the B-Side a little more often, but they're both in excellent condition and I'm very pleased. I love the guitar work on both tracks, and they both sound very clear.

Led Zeppelin - Trampled Underfoot / Black Country Woman

I know these songs... less well. Once again the sound quality is high, and as for the A-Side, the riff is extremely tight. Led Zeppelin was nothing if not an extremely tightly arranged band. "Trampled Underfoot," alas, borders on monotony. Once again I think I like the B-Side more, and in this case it's a lot more. I like the way it builds.

John Lennon Plastic Ono Band - Imagine / It's So Hard

Sounds lovely, this one. "Imagine" has never been my favorite Lennon song, but it is undeniably pretty and you can't fault good intentions. On the other side, we have a bluesy number which is doing its best to not sound pretty. But as for sound quality, it's pretty high on both sides. A good record to hold onto.

Gordon Lightfoot - If You Could Read My Mind / Poor Little Allison

Just gorgeous, and crystal clear. I know the A-Side, of course, though I'd forgotten the link between the title and the melody. I love these little surprises. "If You Could Read My Mind" is touchingly bittersweet, as is "Poor Little Allison." But it's not A-Side material, which I suppose is why we find it here. The A-Side is a real winner though, being light and approachable while handling serious emotional themes.

Lighthouse - One Fine Morning / Little Kind Words

A funky tune! "One Fine Morning" had got a bit of fuzz around the edges, but that's not going to slow us down for today. "Little Kind Words" is in better condition, and it's pretty, in a very self-conscious, poetic sort of way. Odd that they put the fade-out in the middle of a verse like that. Finish your song!

Lobo - Me and You and a Dog Named Boo / Walk Away From It All

A nice, sentimental hobo tune starts us off, with decent sound quality and some appealing imagery. The B-Side is a little more upbeat, and a little less worn down, but lacks the A-Side's charm.

[hammondcast]

“A Hammond in the House!” Organizing Director's column Volume 123, No. 8 September, 2023

“A Hammond in the House!” Organizing Director's column Volume 123, No. 8 September, 2023

Big thanks to Local 802 AFM's John Pietaro MA Director of Organizing, Mikael Elsila Communications Director Allegro Journal and longtime 802 Attorney Harvey Mars - Good news: “A Hammond in the House!” in Local 802 Club Room, the real deal dating back to 1939 folks! Jon Hammond   https://www.local802afm.org/allegro/articles/john-pietaro-september-2023/  Organizing Director's column Volume 123, No. 8 September, 2023

JOHN PIETARO JPIETARO@LOCAL802AFM.ORG  Local 802 member Jon Hammond playing on Local 802’s newly-acquired Hammond model D organ at a recent Monday night jam session 

Serving as Local 802’s director of organizing encompasses many aspects beyond those assumed when I initially accepted the job, not the least of which is that my office is the destination for calls our switchboard operator Judy might otherwise not know how to dispatch. One such call that came up recently was from longtime member Brien Brannigan. His outreach was singularly welcome: “Hello, I have a 1949 Hammond Organ model D with bench, bass pedals & J-20 tone cabinet that I’d like to donate.”

As a resident amateur historian in these parts, I made immediate plans to visit this fine instrument which, as Brien explained, had been a gift from his father many years before. “I’m a guitarist,” he explained, “but he purchased this organ for a recording studio I owned.” And it followed Brien to several such locations before landing in one within the Times Square area. “The studio has been sold and the new owners aren’t interested in keeping the Hammond. I guess times changed,” he stated, thoughtfully, “but I couldn’t rest until I knew it would get a good home.”

For those versed in organ lore, Hammond is legendary, its rich, all-encompassing sound reigning over countless jazz, R&B, and rock recordings. While the model B-3 was and remains the top of the line, the company manufactured several models that maintained the quite magical inner workings with differences only of size and ornamentation. Which brings us to 802’s latest acquisition. “The model D had all of the features of the B but was simpler,” Brannigan informed me “because it was designed for the military.” Wow. Well, clearly not on the frontlines; imagine Jimmy Smith (the pioneer), Brother Jack McDuff, Larry Young, Shirley Scott, Jon Lord (Deep Purple), Al Kooper or Booker T. tearing down and setting up this instrument for each battlefield advance. Regardless, our model D has much in common with the B-3. While we have the original tone cabinet (check out those woofers), Hammond hadn’t yet purchased the Leslie company when our instrument was made. Like the earlier instruments, our organ has settings for vibrato and other effects, as well as a wealth of sounds.

Long-time Local 802 member Jon Hammond may not be part of the organ-manufacturing family, but he is one of the masters of the instrument, performing over decades here and in LA, among other locations. Many thanks to Jon for giving our wonderful Hammond model D a basic tune-up.

The instrument’s powerful majesty was on full display on August 21st at the first Jazz Foundation Monday Night Jam Session we’ve hosted in several years. The crowd was filled with improvisers and the response to the instrument was wonderful.

“I’m real happy JFA Monday nights are back at the good old 802 Club Room!” Hammond remarked. Looking over his handiwork, Jon explained a bit more about the                                                                                                                                                                                              instrument: “The organ dates back to 1939; it’s built like a Sherman tank – a real piece of history, no doubt about it.”

In this article, I’ve listed a handful of Hammond giants already. For your listening pleasure, please check out these musicians and their wealth of brilliant recordings. And while we’re at it, here are more wizards of the instrument: Alice Coltrane (the visionary!), Joe Zawinul (pre-synth with Cannonball Adderly), Lonnie Smith, Gregg Alan Rolie (Santana), Isaac Hayes, Richard Groove Holmes, Rod Argent (the Zombies), Fats Waller, Joey DeFrancesco, Vincent Crane (the Crazy World of Arthur Brown), Sly Stone, Ray Manzarek (the Doors), Paul Shaffer, Ken Pearson (Janis Joplin), and far too many others to even fit within this column.

On behalf of Local 802, greatest appreciation to you, Brien Brannigan, and in turn, to your father.

NOTE: The Jazz Foundation of America MONDAY NIGHT JAM series returned to Local 802’s Club Room as of August 21 and we will continue to cherish this time-honored tradition on the third Monday of each month. Live the history — join us for this series as well as our own 802 JAZZ NIGHTS (on the second Monday of each month). The full calendar is at www.local802afm dot org/events " #afmlocal802  #musiciansunion  #americanfederationofmusicians  #hammondorgan  #jazzfoundationofamerica 

#WATCHMOVIE HERE: Jon Hammond Show 09 02 2023

Jon's archive https://archive.org/details/jon-hammond-show-09-02-2023

Youtube https://youtu.be/2C4j9jaPbsk?si=2dwAu6ln0ABvZNA7

Jon Hammond Show 09 02 2023

by Jon Hammond

Topics Jon Hammond Show, Public Access Television, Manhattan Neighborhood Network, Music, Travel, News, Jazz, Blues, Hammond Organ, PhotographyLanguage English

Jon Hammond Show 09 02 2023 from organist Jon Hammond

Music, Travel, News - Jazz Blues featuring international soloists

40th year on Public Access Television - air time 01:30 AM EST

Manhattan Neighborhood Network MNN

#HammondCast

#HammondReport

#jonhammondshow

#afmlocal802  #musiciansunion  #americanfederationofmusicians  #hammondorgan  #jazzfoundationofamerica

                                                                                                                                              

AFM Local 802, John Pietaro, Hammond Organ, Jazz Foundation of America, Monday Night Jazz, Jam Session, Musicians Union, 322 W. 48th St.,

Posted 6 minutes ago by HAMMONDCAST

Labels: 322 W. 48th St.AFM Local 802Hammond OrganJam SessionJazz Foundation of AmericaJohn PietaroMonday Night JazzMusicians Union

[tastydregs]

This Google AI Music Will Freak You the Hell Out

Photo: ESB Professional (Shutterstock)

If you’ve played around with ChatGPT at all, you know how impressive (and terrifying) AI can be. ChatGPT can generate just about anything you ask it to, with prompts as simple or as complex as you can think of. Well, Google has figured out how to do the same. But rather than spit out poems or computer programs, Google’s AI writes music, and you can preview its creations right now.

Google’s AI, dubbed MusicLM, is designed to produce multiple minutes of high-quality music based on text prompts. While AI music isn’t necessarily new, the company claims its program produces tracks that are more accurate to the initial text prompt and are better quality than previous models. Big claims, of course. But, based on these previews, they might just live up to them.

The first batch demonstrates how MusicLM can generate music from rich captions, similar to how OpenAI’s ChatGPT generates its famous responses from user requests. Google can feed MusicLM a caption, such as, “The main soundtrack of an arcade game. It is fast-paced and upbeat, with a catchy electric guitar riff. The music is repetitive and easy to remember, but with unexpected sounds, like cymbal crashes or drum rolls,” and the AI will process a track that meets those criteria.

My personal favorite from this section is the song generated from “Funky piece with a strong, danceable beat and a prominent bassline. A catchy melody from a keyboard adds a layer of richness and complexity to the song” on the second page, which sounds like something out of Stardew Valley.

Where uncanny valley really sets in, though, is whenever Google asks MusicLM to produce vocals. Many of Google’s examples here have AI vocals, and while some of them sound “computerish” for lack of a better word, others sound a little too close to home. When you listen with the full knowledge that the voice is 100% artificial, it’s a bit unsettling. Google even asked MusicLM to generate a rap track, and, to be honest, the “rapping” is eerily realistic, even if none of the words they’re rapping are real.

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If you really want to be creeped out, scroll down to the “Text and Melody Conditioning.” Here, you can hear a series of voices and instruments doing their best with different melodies, and the results are wild. The very first option sees MusicLM humming “Bella Ciao,” and it sounds way too good. Side note: The “Tribal drums and flute” version is giving White Lotus.

We also have “Long Generation,” which produces five-minute long tracks from short descriptions, like “melodic techno” or “relaxing jazz.” But things get really interesting with “Story Mode.” Google feeds MusicML multiple captions, and the AI adjusts the song based on the given caption. It starts with 15 seconds based on “time to meditate,” before the caption switches to “time to wake up.” The music smoothly changes in tune, as if it was starting up a new verse, with some creepy vocals to boot.

Creepy vocals aside, it’s fascinating to see the AI alter the song without having to change the song. For the most part, it incorporates the new caption into the song, without feeling like you’re jumping into a new tune altogether. It’s particularly impressive with the third example, which sees the AI jump from “pop song” to “rock song” to “death metal song.” While “rock song” doesn’t particularly sound like rock, “death metal song” is simply fantastic. I imagine AI Death will be a big hit with metal heads.

Another interesting experiment Google did was feed MusicLM descriptions of famous paintings to see what music it would produce. If you ever wanted to know what Vincent Van Gogh’s “The Starry Night” would sound like as a song, well, now’s your chance. It’s also fascinating to click through how MusicLM generates specific instrument and genre sounds. The electric guitar is on point, as is “British Indie Rock,” complete with a dramatic turn at the end of the preview.

There’s more to explore from this limited preview of MusicLM, too, from “Accordion Solos” to comparing different results from the same prompt. Google also published a 15-page research piece on MusicLM, if you’re interested in reading the technical details of the system. While I hope the company releases a beta for the public to try, browsing through these samples is the next best thing.

[The Verge]

[princehrry-writings]

Daddy?

happy Easter if you celebrate it!! I've been working on this for a couple weeks!! It's the longest one-shot I think I've ever written.

word count: 5180

please please please flood my inbox with your thoughts and comments!! i want to know what you think!!!

warnings: some swearing (i think), absent birth father, single mom, nothing too serious.

“And who might this be?” He said softly, hoping that he wouldn’t frighten her.

“Tell Harry your name baby,” Y/n brushed a stray piece of hair away from her daughter's face who shied away behind her mom’s leg.

“Stella,” the little girl mumbled, fidgeting with the jeans she hid behind. He felt his heart flutter. She was just so freakin cute.

“It’s lovely to meet you Stella, m’Harry!”

“You talk funny.” The child said, making Harry laugh and Y/n gasp, scolding her daughter for being rude while trying not to laugh at her blunt comment.

“Stella Rose, that was not a very nice thing to say!” Y/n softly reprimanded.

“Sowwy Hawwy,” He chuckled, letting her know he forgave her.

or

Y/n is a single mom and Harry wants to be a part of the family.

.

.

.

Getting pregnant was definitely not something Y/n wanted to be doing at 20 years old. She had a boyfriend and the career of her dreams but as soon as the news broke, one of those things was no longer true. Her ex skipped town faster than she could even finish telling him she was pregnant, so Y/n was left to her own devices since her family was so far away.

She was a songwriter. She had worked with all the big names in the industry from Taylor Swift to All Time Low. She was known for being able to write in any genre, that’s what set her apart and why people were clawing at the chance to work with her.

And then she got pregnant. She kept writing songs until she was eight and a half months along but due to minor complications, her doctor had ordered her to stay home. So she did. She stayed home, had the baby, and raised her all by herself. Now that baby, whose name is Stella, is four years old and is traveling the world with her mom. Y/n had gone back to work when Stella was a year old. At first, she would leave her baby with a sitter, but eventually, she got to a point where Stella was old enough to come along to writing sessions and quietly color or play with toys in a corner. She really liked going to work with her mom. She got to see a bunch of cool places and meet a lot of nice people.

And one of those people was Harry Styles. Y/n had met him a few times back when he was with One Direction, had even tried to work with the band a few times but things never lined up right. But now he was making his second studio album and only wanted the best of the best to write with him so naturally, he called Y/n. Harry knew she had a kid but he didn’t expect her to bring said kid to a writing session. Harry didn’t really mind- he loves kids, but his friends had been known to curse a lot and he didn’t want to cause any harm to the child.

He made sure to give everyone a stern talking to, even though Kid already knew to hold his tongue (his little ones had repeated some colorful words a few times). He wanted everything to go right, needed it to. Y/n was more than just another songwriter.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it!” Harry smiled as she walked into the studio. She smiled back, walking into his open arms for a hug.

“Thank you so much for having me, I’m super stoked to be working with you!” She said, slightly muffled by his neck. Harry looked down behind Y/n and saw a little girl that looked exactly like the woman currently in his arms looking right back up at him. When the two pulled away Harry was quick to kneel down to her height.

“And who might this be?” He said softly, hoping that he wouldn’t frighten her.

“Tell Harry your name baby,” Y/n brushed a stray piece of hair away from her daughter's face who shied away behind her mom’s leg.

“Stella,” the little girl mumbled, fidgeting with the jeans she hid behind. He felt his heart flutter. She was just so freakin cute.

“It’s lovely to meet you Stella, m’Harry!”

“You talk funny.” The child said, making Harry laugh and Y/n gasp, scolding her daughter for being rude while trying not to laugh at her blunt comment.

“Stella Rose, that was not a very nice thing to say!” Y/n softly reprimanded.

“Sowwy Hawwy,” He chuckled, letting her know he forgave her. Although he wasn’t mad, he understood Y/n had to teach her not to say things like that even if they were funny.

When Stella had settled at a table out of the way of the adults in the room with her coloring book and a juice box, the work began. Y/n and Harry sat at a piano bench ( he hoped she couldn’t hear his pounding heart) while Kid and Mitch, along with Jeff, sat scattered around the other furniture in the studio.

“So, I have a couple of ideas that I’ve been sitting on that I think you might like. You can look through this and see if there's something that catches your eye.” Y/n said, handing Harry a notebook. She tried to ignore the tingle she felt run up her arm when their fingers brushed. He flipped around the pages, noticing random little doodles in the corners and in between lines, and the somewhat messy but readable handwriting. He thought it was cute how she connected her s’s to her t’s and k’s when she wrote.

One page, in particular, caught his attention.

Golden, Golden, Golden

As I open my eyes

Hold it, focus

So you take me back to the light

I know you were way too bright for me

I’m hopeless, broken

So you wait for me in the sky

Brown my skin just right

“Is this a verse or a chorus?” He asked, pointing it out to her. She shrugged saying she didn’t really know yet but it would probably be a verse.

“I like it a lot,” He said and she smiled, picking up her guitar and strumming it to the tune she had thought of for the words. He listened and nodded along, already getting ideas for where to go next.

“I like the golden thing. I think that could be a good hook, something like we’re so golden,” Kid spoke up, tapping his fingers along to what she was playing.

“Or you’re so golden,” Mitch suggested. Harry and Y/n’s eyes widened at the same time, both looking up at each other when they heard the line.

“You’re so golden, you’re so golden…” Y/n hummed.

“I’m out of my head, and I know what you said about hearts get broken,”

“How about I’m out of my head and I know that you’re scared because hearts get broken,”

“I like that better, yeah!” Harry smiled, nodding along to the beat.

Y/n looked over 30 minutes later to see Stella had sprawled out on the floor with her arms folded beneath her head, first finger stuck into her mouth, and she smiled, breathing out a laugh.

“She’s so precious,” Harry murmured from beside you. Your gaze found his and the smile on your face widened a little bit.

“She is, isn’t she.” She said, pride present in her eyes.

“Looks just like you as well,”

“Yeah thank god, I don’t know what I would have done if she had ended up looking like her sperm donor,” Malice dripped from the end of her phrase. Y/n couldn’t even entertain the idea of her looking like the man who helped create her. That nerve was still a little raw, not because she had any remaining feelings, but because he had abandoned not only her but the beautiful baby girl who was napping not 15 feet away from her. She figured they were better off without him, yet her heart always shattered a little when Stella asked if she had a daddy like the people she sees on tv.

“I couldn’t imagine finding out the woman I loved was pregnant and then leaving her, any real man would have stayed.” His eyes were genuine, which she appreciated. Most people would say they felt sorry for her, pity dripping from their gaze, but she didn’t need pity, didn’t need people to feel sorry for her. But what Harry said was out of pity, he just honestly couldn’t understand how anyone would abandon a child.

“Yeah well, I guess I just wasn’t the woman he loved.” She said, looking back at her baby. Stella made all of that pain from when he disappeared worth it.

Harry wanted to be able to take that pain away.

---

“Hey I know it’s late, but I have this idea and I want you to hear it,” Harry’s raspy voice chimed through the speaker of Y/n’s phone. She glanced at the time, reading 1:30 AM, and sighed.

“Ok,”

“Come open the door,” He said.

“Wait what? You’re here?”

“Yeah, come on. It’s cold out here.”

“Ugh, hold on,” The woman sighed, hanging up and tip-toeing out of her room so her footsteps wouldn’t wake the sleeping four-year-old in the next room over. Her door was open and she was a light sleeper.

The door swung open and Harry stood there with a small smile on his face, burrowing as deep into his coat as he could to shield himself from the cold air outside.

“Hi!” His cheeky smile made Y/n’s heart flutter.

This was the first of many times he would show up at her place in the middle of the night.

---

Another night of Harry coming over late with a song idea he couldn’t wait to show Y/n, although now it was more he would come over after Stella fell asleep and the two would watch movies and talk, and sometimes write songs (even though the album was done).

The pair were perched on the couch in a heated conversation about whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza (it does and that is a fact not an opinion) when the sound of little footsteps caught their attention. They both looked up from where they sat at the sound of loud crying coming down the stairs, seeing a small child with tears barreling down her face, cheeks flush an angry red, first finger stuck in her mouth, teddy bear clutched tightly to her chest.

“Baby what’s wrong?” Y/n cooed, getting up and sweeping her into her arms. She went and sat back down on the couch, cradling the baby to her chest, brushing her hair out of her face, and rocking her back and forth.

“Scawwy dweam mommy,” She hiccuped into her mom’s neck, where she hid her face. Her tiny hands clutched onto her shirt, finger stick tucked between her lips.

Harry held back a coo at the little girl, feeling himself fall further and further for the little family of two sitting before him. He hadn’t been able to take his mind off of them since that first day he met Stella. He’d always had a schoolboy crush on Y/n since they first met all those years ago but knew it was one-sided when she introduced her boyfriend one of the last times they had seen each other. As fate would have it though, they found their way back to each other. Neither of them could deny the feelings they held, but Y/n was scared to bring someone into the picture because she didn’t want Stella to get attached to someone who wouldn’t be permanent. She was lucky her ex left before he ever got the chance to meet Stella, the kid had no clue what she was missing, therefore didn’t have any pain due to her absent father.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t imagine Harry stepping into that role. But she couldn’t ask that of him. He was at a time in his career where he didn’t have time to be the father of a four year old.

But life is full of surprises.

“Hawwy.” The baby whimpered and crawled off of Y/n’s chest, into his lap and snuggled her head right into him like it was where she was meant to be all along. His heart just about burst when the little girl fisted his shirt, tucking herself into him. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, cradling her into him and rocking her back and forth like her mother had been only moments ago.

Stella calms down almost immediately, to Y/n’s surprise. It usually takes her a while to console her baby from bad dreams, but all Harry had to do was hold her, and boom, no more tears.

“You alright petal?” He cooed into her hair, soothing his hand up and down her back to keep her calm. She nodded, letting out a huge yawn and closing her eyes, falling back asleep in his arms.

Y/n was astonished. Stella had never fallen asleep on anyone but her mom or her grandmother. She’s known Harry for a few months and was acting like he’d been there her whole life.

“Wow… she loves you.” Y/n whispered, not really meaning for him to hear but he did and his smile gave her the impression that he loved her too. But Stella wasn’t the only one he felt such affections for.

“Y/n....” He starts after a moment of silence, “I know this sounds crazy because we’ve only truly known each other for a few months… but I’ve had feelings for you for years. I missed my opportunity when you got with your ex but I’m here now, and I love you, and I love Stella, and I would do anything to stay in both of your lives if you’d have me. I want to be here for you, and I want to be here for her as well.” His confession shocked the woman sitting across from him.

Y/n was quiet, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought while she took in what he was saying. Trying her best to keep her fantasies of playing house with him at bay, she spoke.

“Harry, as much as all of that sounds lovely, you’re about to start press for the album and then go on tour. You’re not gonna have time to be in a relationship, and as much as I wish I could just jump into something like that, I can’t. I have her to think about…” She gestured to the toddler sleeping on him.

“She needs consistency, her life is already hectic enough.”

“So come with me!” He spouted, and then retracted a bit realizing he could wake Stella up.

“What?”

“Come with me! You two travel around already, so come on the press tour with me and then come on the big tour with me! I know this sounds impulsive and it’s probably the craziest thing I’ve ever said in my life ever, but I’ve never been more sure of anything. I know what I want Y/n, and that’s to be a part of this family. I want to be a part of your lives!”

“Harry, I-”

“Please Y/n. Give me a chance! I won’t let you down!” The gleam in his eyes shows her that he’s serious. He really does want this. Harry just hopes that Y/n can see just how willing he is, how much it would mean to him to have (what he already affectionately considers to be) his girls with him on tour.

It’s quiet, only sounds of Stella’s even breaths and the light noise of her sucking on her finger fill the room. Eventually, Y/n gathers her thoughts, mind made up.

“We’ll try it out… see how it goes….” She said, releasing a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding on to. Harry’s smile grew tenfold at her confession, reaching over and bringing her face closer to his to kiss her lips, careful not to wake the baby in his arms.

He had never been happier, Harry decides, than he is right now.

---

“Hawwy?” Stella’s voice catches Y/n’s attention from where she sits on the plane, in between her and Harry. She turns her little head to the man sitting in the aisle seat, big round eyes staring right into his.

“What is it, lovebug?” He asks, pushing her wild baby hairs away from her eyes. Y/n did her very best not to coo at the two of them. Harry had fallen perfectly into step with the mother and daughter, like this duo had been a trio all along. She was still hesitant to think of him as a father figure for Stella though, just because if things went south somehow, she didn’t want her baby suffering a loss like that (a second time).

Stella’s little fists rubbed at her tired eyes. She let out a small ‘hmph’ and laid her head on Harry’s arm, wrapping her own little arms around his.

“Awe you my daddy?” She asked and Y/n choked on her spit, looking back over at the toddler.

“Stella, baby-”

“I would love to be your daddy lovebug, but that’s not really up to me…” He spoke and glanced up at Y/n quickly, trepidation clear in his eyes. Harry was afraid he might overstep. Sure he knew that things were still new between him and Y/n but he wanted nothing more than for Stella to think of him as her dad.

“Who’s it up to?” Y/n could tell she was about to fall asleep but was fighting it in order to get her answers. She had adjusted to a more fast pace schedule quite nicely. She slept through most plane and car rides and absolutely loved being backstage at concerts. Harry thought she looked so adorable with her big noise-canceling headphones on. They had been on the road for a few months now, and it had been 8 months since Y/n decided to give him a chance.

“It’s up to mummy, baby.” He answered, his fingers tangling into his chestnut curls in a futile attempt to keep them out of his face.

Stella’s head immediately whipped to look at her mom, who sat frozen in her seat, not knowing what to do.

“Mommy, is Hawwy my daddy?” She repeated her question. Y/n had a feeling that Stella thought Harry was her real dad, the one that her mom didn’t like to talk about. She had to make sure there was no confusion.

“Not like you're thinking he is, baby. He’s not your birth dad, he didn’t help mommy make you, but if you want him to be your daddy, then that’s ok with me.” Y/n locked eyes with the man sitting across from her with a smile on his face. She was glad that they were flying private because she really didn’t need anyone ruining this moment for them. All her fears of this not working out felt stupid now.

How could she ever think that things with Harry wouldn’t work out? He was right where he belonged.

---

“Daddy!”

“Baby!” Harry knelt down to catch the running (almost) 5 year old, picking her up and spinning her around in his arms. They were in England for two weeks on tour. One for shows, and one so that Y/n and Stella could meet Harry’s mom and sister for the first time as a part of the family. Y/n had met them before as “a friend of Harry’s” many years ago, but they had never met her as Harry’s girlfriend, and they hadn’t met Stella.

Currently, Harry was in the middle of a show and Stella had just escaped her mothers arms side stage in favor of running to her dad. Y/n still couldn’t get over saying that. Harry is Stella’s dad. She doesn’t think that will ever get old.

No one knew how serious the relationship between Y/n and Harry was. The public knew they were together (after a very vague post on instagram of the mother/daughter duo napping with the caption “my girls”). Many people thought this was a PR stunt, just because it was so unlike Harry to post something like that. But he had actually confirmed in an interview that, yes, he was in a relationship with the songwriter and it was pretty serious. That was all he chose to say, in favor of keeping his secrecy, as he so famously loves to do.

What came as a shock to the audience was what the child had called Harry. They all knew about Stella, obviously, but no one would have thought that this child would think of him as her father. A lot of people didn’t like thinking about Harry being a father.

“What are you doing out here baby?” He said into her ear, making sure he could hear her over the loud noise of the audience. Most of them loved getting glimpses into his life, so the crowd was excited to see Stella out on stage and many thought it was adorable that she already thought of him as her dad.

“Missed you.” She said into his neck. The microphone had somehow picked up their little exchange and the whole crowd sighed a collective “awe” when she said that. She was perched on his hip with her little arms wrapped around his neck, her favorite place if she had to choose one. She was pretty small for a 4-year-old, most people usually thought she was younger.

Harry chuckled and saw Y/n standing there with a smile on her face. Mitch was giggling at the exchange and kept glancing back at Sarah with a knowing look of “That’s going to be us soon,” written on his face.

“I missed you too lovebug, but I’m in the middle of a show! I gotta send you back to mumma.” He said. Stella didn’t like that though, because as soon as the words left his lips she was clinging to him like he was her life force and the tears began streaming down her face. She didn’t like having to share her daddy. She just wanted to be held by him right now, and she’d be damned if she got anything but her way.

This amused everyone, the child's insistence to be in her father's arms, so he sighed and bent to her will because how could he say no to his baby girl?

So he walked over to her mom and got her headphones, slipping them on her, and walked back to his microphone with her on his hip, ready to start the next song.

“Harry and Stella” was trending on twitter the very next morning. No one could get enough of the father-daughter duo.

---

Y/n hadn’t been this nervous since she was about to give birth to Stella. She stood with her baby in her arms as Harry opened the door to his childhood home, announcing to his mom and sister that they were there. She had to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans more than once.

Anne rushed out from wherever she had been, greeting the three of them. Stella had met Anne via FaceTime many times so it was not news to her (or Gemma) that Harry had stepped into the role of Stella’s father. She will admit she was surprised at first but then she was reminded that Harry had been in their lives for almost a year before Stella had asked the question. It wasn’t something that was rushed into.

Anne was very excited to be meeting her grandbaby and was very excited to meet the girl that had made her a grandmother.

Stella got shy, not being used to seeing “Nana” in person. Gemma had emerged from her spot in the kitchen as well, greeting everyone.

“Hello, my loves! How was the trip?” Anne said, kissing both of them on the cheek, her hand gently caressing the child's cheek in an attempt to get her out of her shell. Once she realized that this was her Nana that was standing before her, Stella reached out for Anne, silently asking to be held by her. Anne jumped at the chance, sweeping the baby into her arms and giving her a big hug, kissing her on the forehead multiple times, not being able to quell her affection for her first grandchild.

“It was good mum, Stell slept the whole way and traffic was pretty light,” Harry said, slipping his hand into his girlfriend’s, brushing his thumb back and forth trying to help calm her anxieties. For whatever reason, Y/n was worried that Gemma and Anne wouldn’t like her because she had come into their son/brother's life with a child, but it was clear that the two ladies loved the idea of Harry being Stella’s father.

“Oh, that's lovely!” She smiled, cuddling Stella impossibly closer to her. Y/n felt most of her worries melt away seeing the woman with her baby.

She felt silly for thinking Anne would be anything but happy.

---

Anne would not put Stella down for anything. The two were attached at the hip every waking second. Y/n was actually starting to miss her baby, but she appreciated getting to spend time with Harry without having to keep an eye on their little one. Gemma was absolutely smitten with Stella as well. She was very excited to be “Auntie Gem” as Stella had quickly adapted to calling her. Stella was very happy as well. She had never been around so much family in her whole life. She’d been so used to just her and her mom, and then just them and Harry, but now she had two whole grandma’s all to herself and an auntie she gets to call her own, something she never knew she was missing, that Y/n never thought her baby would get to have.

Harry was so happy to see his baby with Anne and Gemma. They had been bumped to spot number 3 and 4 on his favorite girl list, with Stella and Y/n taking spots 1 and 2. They didn’t mind one bit.

“Daddy, can we watch a movie?” Stella jumped up onto his lap as he and Y/n sat on the couch, just talking and enjoying each other's company. Y/n smiled at the girl, tightening her grip around Harry’s shoulders, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

“Of course we can lovebug! Go get Nana and auntie Gem and we’ll all pick one out together!” He replied, petting her wild baby hairs out of her eyes just like he always did.

“Auntie Gemma said to ask you if we could watch…” She paused for a second, her little finger tapping on her chin like she couldn’t remember what she was gonna say. Suddenly, she was up and running back to the hallway she had just come from. Y/n and Harry heard little whispers before she came running back out and plopped back onto Harry’s lap, on ‘oof’ erupting from him.

“This Is Us!” She finally said. Harry’s face dropped as he looked behind them to see Gemma standing there, trying to hold back her laughter. Y/n just started cackling and Stella was giggling even though she had no idea what was going on.

“Daddy’s in that movie baby,” Y/n finally calmed down enough to say to her daughter. The little one’s eyes lit up, her hands clasped underneath her chin. This was what she did when she wanted her daddy to say yes to her because she knew he couldn’t resist how adorable she was.

“Please please please!!!!!!” She whined, leaning in to place her forehead against Harry’s. She knew exactly how to get him. He caved every single time.

“Yeah, fine. We can watch it!” He finally said and all three girls cheered. Anne came in at the noise wondering what was going on.

“What’s all this?” She asked and Stella ran up to her, pulling on her

“We watching Daddy’s movie Nana!” She said, jumping up and down with a glowing beam on her face.

“Oh, are we now? Which one?” Anne asked and Stella paused.

“Daddy, how many movies awe you in?” She came back and crawled into his lap. She still had trouble saying her r’s. Her and Harry were working on it.

“Two, lovebug. But one of them you can’t watch until you’re older. It’s too scary f’you.” He said, cuddling his baby into his chest. She put on a little pout hearing that. She didn’t like when her daddy told her no, but this was something he wasn’t gonna budge on.

“Ok,” She sighed. All the adults thought this was adorable.

So they all settled in and watched the movie. Harry had a permanent blush on his face and Stella would jump up and down every time he was on the screen.

“Nana look!! That’s you!!” Anne laughed and nodded to her granddaughter.

“Yes, it is baby!”

“Mommy, why aren’t you in this movie?” She asked and everyone giggled.

“Me and Daddy didn’t know each other very well back then, baby.” Y/n laughed. Stella didn’t really understand but she didn’t say anything else.

The last few days had worn her out and that became very obvious when Harry looked down and saw his baby asleep on his chest, her first finger stuck in her mouth just like it always was when she fell asleep.

“Love, I’m gonna go lay her down, and then I’ll be right back,” Harry whispered, cradling the sleeping girl in his arms and slowly standing up. Y/n nodded, kissing his cheek before he left.

“He’s so good with her!” Gemma cooed, her face lighting up seeing her brother with his kid. A sight she was still kind of getting used to seeing.

“He really is…” Y/n smiled, “It was pretty instant too. Anytime he’d come over and she was still awake, he’d insist on putting her to bed, reading to her, singing to her, he’d bring her toys. She’s had him wrapped around her little finger since he first laid eyes on her.”

“That’s so precious,” Anne spoke up, coming to sit next to her, wrapping Y/n in her warm embrace.

“I can’t wait until you two get married!” Y/n laughed at Gemma’s confession, snuggling into Anne.

“All he has to do is ask, I’m ready to say yes!” What none of the girls knew was that Harry was standing right outside the living room, hearing everything that was being said. His mind raced back to his suitcase where a velvet box sat tucked away between all of his clothes.

He was hesitant to bring the idea up because it had only been a year, but the saying when you know, you know he thought.

He came back into the living room, acting none the wiser, sitting on the other side of the girl he was going to marry (she just didn’t know it yet), and cuddled into her just as she had cuddled into his mom.

“Daddy,” A small voice broke through the now quiet hum of the tv.

“Lovebug, what are you doing back up?” He asked, lifting the sleepy little thing into his lap.

“Scawwy dweam, daddy.” She said and he pouted, pulling her closer into his chest and snuggling her back to sleep.

Harry was exactly where he belonged in life. With his baby girl in his arms, and his Love by his side.

[demuredrug]

Fireworks - Ch.4

I'm a bit late with the new chapter haha, but its finally here! I kind of want to write then longer, but i'm not sure of how to fragment the story yet. They are finally opening up a bit to each other! I am so excited to write cute, romantic scenes of these two, but at the same time i feel like rushing the romance is a no no. Anyway, i hope you enjoy this new snippet and stay tuned to find out what role does Viktor play in this story.

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

Jinx found out that the tour was just a pretext to get away from the common room. The reason? Currently unknown, but she was sure that at some point she could figure it out. Was Lux shy? Did she think her friends were shitty?

They ended up outside, seated on one of the benches in the center’s yard. The sun was high up the sky, engulfing everything in a nauseatingly bright and warm light. Jinx had to wiggle out of her hoodie despite the gentle breeze easing some of the warmth. Lux, on the other hand, seemed more than used to this type of weather.

She looked cheerful almost, a secret curve of a smile showing that at least the outer part of the building was pleasant. This time she was fiddling with her fingers, Jinx having to use up all her self control not to mimic the fidgeting. It was almost unbearably awkward and she couldn’t imagine why did Lux need Jinx if she wasn’t planing in at least paying her a little attention.

She pressed her lips together in mild annoyance, eyes darting from her worn out slippers to Lux’s sneakers. She tried, she really tried to keep quiet but another stupid question found its way out of her.

‘’What drugs did you use?’’

Common ground, Jinx thought. Asking basic questions like favorite color or food wasn’t going to cut it, at least for her. If Lux was there, it meant that she promised honesty to others and to herself.

‘’Runes.’’ Lux answered after a beat, her tone flat.

‘’Acid?’’ Jinx guessed, her knowledge in drugs far more limited than Ekko’s or even Ezreal’s. Despite spending entire years surrounded by drug lords and avid users, she was not well versed. She didn’t wish to be. Ask her about drugs and she’ll probably be able to list like five. Ask her about guns and she could probably talk a day.

‘’Yeah, the ones with writing on them. The symbols show what added effect they have like them being longer lasting or raising libido-’’

‘’Libido?’’ Jinx inquired, her face scrunching up in confusion. The word felt weird in her mouth.

‘’They make you…how do you all say it..horny? Yes, i think that’s the word.’’

As confused as Jinx had been before, it all washed off at the mention of such crude word. She laughed, maybe a bit too loudly, clutching her stomach with one hand while slapping her knee with the other.

‘’Damn flower face, didn’t take you as someone like that.’’ Laughter was still bubbling in her throat, but she was trying her best to stifle it while also wiping the tears forming in the corner of her eyes and threatening to ruin her killer eyeliner.

On the other side of the bench laid the evidence that Jinx knew how to strike a chord. Lux was trying her best to cool down her cheeks that glowed an embarrassing shade of red. She was no kid, but she couldn’t fathom how Jinx was alright joking around like that with someone she barely knew.

‘’I never took those. What did you do then?’’ Lux shamelessly changed the subject, turning a little to take a good look at Jinx who seemed to tense at the question, despite having expected it.

Her drug abuse was both a sensitive and indifferent subject, depending on who asked and how her mood was. It all felt so far away despite Jinx having spent two months in rehab at max and her memories about the previous days were hazy to say the least. Neon colors, loud, fast tempo music, broken glass and bloody noses. A drunken blur of fists, clubs and bullets was all she barely remembered, along with raids and cries for mercy.

‘’Shimmer.’’ Jinx answered simply, attempting to seem unfazed about admitting to it.

Lux could have guessed that if she had put in some proper thought. Besides Jinx being from a city that was known world wide for their shimmer production, the girl had piercing magenta eyes, an effect of prolonged use of the drug. Lux was glad no one could tell she used, at least not then while Jinx was cursed with having to carry her addiction with her everywhere, for ever.

‘’How was it? Shimmer, i mean.’’ Lux found herself wanting to know a bit more. Shimmer was a lot heavier than Runes, being more than a hallucinogen. She had met celebrities who used it recreationally and all of them admitted that they had to ask for help to stop since it was way too damaging.

Jinx held up to it pretty well, mostly because she microdosed. Too much and it would fuck you up, but even a drop or two could easily suffice when someone wanted a memorable high.

‘’I felt invincible when i was on it. I didn’t feel shit, both emotionally and physically so it was like i had found a cheat code for life.’’ She chuckled, her thumbs clicking up and down as if she was pushing buttons on a joystick. While on Shimmer, she could probably do anything, but the aftermath was absolutely disastrous.

‘’Then you got hurt a lot while on it.’’

‘’Sunshine, i’d appreciate it if you stopped playing detective with me. If you want to get your doctorate in Shimmer, go talk to Viktor. He knows a fuck ton about this stuff.’’

Jinx didn’t mean to sound like a jackass, but Lux was seriously pushing it with all the information she wanted to hear. Honesty or not, Lux was not entitled to Jinx’s sob story, no matter how much she looked like a kicked puppy who was about to cry its little eyes out-

‘’ ‘Kay, sorry for lashing out. Let me make it up by presenting you the best resident of this shithole.’’ Jinx got up, tying her blue hoodie around her waist before reaching out her hand to help Lux up. She probably didn’t need it, but she still accepted it, allowing the other to pull her up from the bench.

Jinx led Lux to the other side of the yard, hand tightly clutching the blonde’s as they made their way through flower beds and ginormous trees only to stop short besides the dumpster area. Lux wished to ask Jinx why in earth they stopped there, but before she could utter a word, a golden retriever peeked its head from behind a bunch of cardboard boxes.

Jinx let go of Lux’s hand so she could welcome the dog into her arms, the pet excitedly scurring over, tail waging from side to side in pure bliss.

‘’He’s Poro. The best dog on the planet.’’ Jinx introduced him to Lux, a crooked smile overtaking her features.

Lux found those two oddly similar and the worst of it all, she found it sickeningly endearing.

[moonshotsx]

honestly, i don’t have an explanation for this, just pain

—

Rosé sat on the stool at the center of the small club’s stage, accompanied by a tame round of applause.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?” she said into the microphone, adjusting her acoustic guitar on her leg and making sure it was in tune.

The small audience clapped in excitement, making her smile.

“Alright, alright, don’t get too rowdy back there!” she joked, “For tonight, I got something a bit special for you guys,” she continued, resting one hand on the microphone as she spoke, “This is an original piece I wrote a couple of months back, just after a shitty breakup… Does anyone here have been through that too?”

Quite a few hands raised up as she nodded, “Fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” her chuckle felt fake, “Well, I’m about to make y’all feel even worse about that”

The audience gave signs of encouragement as Rosé’s hand struck the first few chords on the guitar

I thought that you'd remember, but it seems that you forgot It’s hard for me to blame you when you were already lost Oh, yeah I'm tired of always waiting Oh, yeah, yeah I see you changed your number, that's why you don’t get my calls I gave you all of me, now you don't wanna be involved Oh, yeah, yeah I really gotta face it Oh, yeah, yeah

She poured her emotions out into the song, closed her eyes, letting the muscle memory guide her as her mind wandered.

Even though it had been months since they had broken up, somehow it felt like no time had passed at all.

She never thought it would be easy to forget Denali, hell, she was sure she was going to marry the girl until the brunette had called their relationship off.

It had been like a part of her heart had been ripped away when Denali walked out the door.

Could have she done more to keep her? Should have she spent less time in the recording studio and more time with Denali so that the brunette wouldn’t have fallen for someone else?

As she finished the post-chorus, she re-opened her eyes and froze for a moment.

Her hands moved to play the second verse but her mouth lagged behind when she saw her, standing just by the door of the club, her hair damp from the storm outside sticking to her face.

Rosé looked down, focusing on the chords.

Was she that far gone that now she was imagining Denali?

All my love is gone and the hate has grown Standing all alone and I'm searching for something But I can't feel nothing I pack my bags and go This don't feel like home Too much darkness for a rainbow, I feel so used How am I supposed to live without you? I refuse, yeah

When she looked back up, she was still there.

Rosé hadn’t imagined her.

Denali was sitting down at one of the club’s tables in the back, it looked as if she was holding her tears.

Now that she could take a better look at the brunette, she could notice just how different yet similar Denali looked.

Her hair was slightly shorter, albeit a little untamed - the endless nights Rosé had passed singing her asleep while threading her fingers through that same hair.

She seemed smaller than Rosé remembered, frailer, something she never associated with Denali.

Rosé had been so sure that the brunette had spent their break up in a much better mood. She had to, after all, she had been the one to initiate it.

But had Rosé been wrong and Denali had been affected just as much as she had?

Another story that's sad and true I can feel the pain, can you? You had to be the one to let me down To color me blue Hate to see you with someone new I'll put a curse on her and you Ain't no looking back, now you're dead and gone My love is gone too

The last word of the song left her lips and it felt like a relief.

Finally, all those emotions she had bottled up for months escaped her.

Rosé still wasn’t okay, but she had accepted it.

-

She was backstage in the tiny room the club’s owner had given her as a makeshift dressing room, putting her guitar away and collecting her last few things when she heard a faint knock on the open door.

“The door is op—“

She stopped midway when she saw Denali was the one knocking.

“Hey,” the brunette tried timidly only to have the redhead turn her back to her as she continued to put her stuff in the guitar case, hoping the other woman would get the hint and leave.

But to her dismay, Denali hadn’t moved, if anything, she came closer.

She sighed as she finally turned around “What do you want, Denali?”

The brunette bit her lower lip, “I wanted to talk—“

“Oh, now you want to talk? A bit late for that, don’t you think?” she didn’t care how bitter she sounded, it stung to admit her just how much she had missed even just hearing Denali speak.

“You don’t have to talk, you can just listen, okay? Please?” the brunette tried again, this time Rosé couldn’t resist those big brown eyes.

She simply sat on the uncomfortable chair and gave Denali a nod, “Go on then”

“Uhm, well, I just want to say that it was a very beautiful song, the one you just performed, uhm, yeah—“

“Why are you here, Denali?”

“I miss you”

It had been the first time in a long while that someone sounded so sincere to Rosé.

She didn’t reply, instead opting to let Denali talk.

“I… I fucked up by letting you go,” she continued, not meeting the redhead’s attentive hazel eyes, “During those nights when you were away… I thought I had really fallen in love with someone else but it turned out they were just using me to get over their ex, and never really cared for me” tears rolled freely down her cheeks, “I ruined one of the few things that felt… right in my life because I was so blinded by some flashy gifts”

Rosé tightened her jaw as she fought the instinct to wrap her arms around Denali as she cried.

“I… I know I don’t deserve a second chance, fuck, I don’t deserve even to be heard out after what I did to you but… I just… wanted you to know that I regret giving up on our relationship”

Denali stood there awkwardly, shivering as her wet clothes stuck to her skin, basically asking her ex-girlfriend to take her back.

Rosé strapped her guitar to her back, her old oversized leather jacked in hand as she walked closer to Denali.

“I’m not ready to forgive you,” she looked straight into the brunette’s eyes.

“I know, I—“

Denali went quiet when she felt Rosé place her jacket on her shoulder, warming her up.

“I perform at this club every Wednesday and Thursday night at around 10 PM”

She didn’t add anything else before leaving a dumbfounded Denali.

It took the brunette a moment for Rosé’s words to sink in.

She smiled, hugging the jacket closer to her.

[natromanxoff]

Queen live at Brendan Byrne Arena in East Rutherford, NJ, USA - August 9, 1982

(x)

This is an eventful US Hot Space show played to an arena that is far from full. In fact, a second night in East Rutherford was originally planned for August 10, but later moved to New Haven due to the low ticket sales.

Roger's voice is uncharacteristically hoarse tonight, and he struggles on some of his backing vocals in Somebody To Love.

Towards the end of his vocal exchange with the audience after Save Me, Freddie tells them, "I'm gonna make you sing like Aretha Franklin", like he did during Now I'm Here in Milton Keynes a couple months back. But this time he doesn't succeed, as he gives up after only one line. "I knew you were from New Jersey. You had to be. I mean, I've been listening to Gilda Radner. She's right!"

Brian starts Get Down Make Love (which segues into his solo spot) with his John Birch copy. A bit over three minutes into his solo spot he breaks a string, and soon turns off the analog delays, trying to make the best of the situation for a brief while (the other five strings go out of tune when you break a string on an electric guitar with floating tremolo, so one must hold the whammy bar down in a specific place for the guitar to remain in tune - not an easy task!). But he ultimately gives up, and takes the guitar off and hurls it over his stack of Vox cabinets (the one and only time he did this), snapping it in half. Some audience members watch in bewilderment as they have witnessed the normally gentle and soft-spoken May lash out in frustration. Others cheer the 'coolness' factor. A roadie, visible to the audience, picks up a piece of the Birch guitar and holds it up for a brief moment. The beleagured axeman then switches to his Flying V, and he and Roger (barely) finish the segment, not before that guitar, too, goes out of tune.

The next song is Body Language, and the front of house tech switches on Mercury's harmonizer a verse too early, giving "you got red lips" a bit too much redness.

Brian (who hasn't spoken much on stage on this tour since Love Of My Life was his usual speaking spot) says a few words after Under Pressure. "People of New Jersey, we seem like good friends. I tell you, we've seen you a lot of times. We've been around quite a while and we've done some strange things here and there. And now and again we've done a song which actually means something, and I think this is one of them. This is a song Freddie wrote for the last album. This is called Life Is Real." Queen performed the ballad only a few times.

After the song ends, Freddie asks, "How are we doing with the guitars?" He tells the audience, "I think tonight's the night we're gonna break as many guitars as we've got. If anybody in the audience has a spare guitar, bring it over here!" Someone in the audience replies, "I've got three!" He continues, "OK, we're gonna do a song that requires everybody on their feet, because I mean, you gotta... I know you guys are very cool and laid back, this is a really dirty song. You know, it comes from here." No doubt a crude gestitulation follows. "It's from the c*nt. It's called Fat Bottomed Girls!" Brian lets out a lot of aggression in the last couple minutes of the song, even playing some heavy syncopated lines before the final few bars.

Frustration abounds in Freddie as well, as he responds to a drone he (and everyone else) is hearing. "Before this next song, we'd like... what is that fucking noise? It's been driving me crazy all fucking night. I bet it's not doing you guys any good, either."

It takes a little while for the Red Special to be restrung, so Brian plays his Flying V for a few songs, according to a fan who attended the show (although Brian stated in a January 1983 interview that he acquired the Flying V *because* of this incident - but this claim is questionable, as pictures from last week's concert in Toronto reveal his Flying V on a guitar stand side stage). These few songs sound different with this new guitar tone - particularly the Bohemian Rhapsody solo. He would return with his beloved home-made guitar for the hard rock section of Bohemian Rhapsody, but he wouldn't fully regain his composure for the rest of the evening.

In the second verse of We Are The Champions, a flippant comment from Mercury sums up the evening: "It's been no bed of roses, I can tell you!"

A fan wrote to Brian at his Soapbox about this night:

"During the show you had problems with The Old Lady and came out with the Birch copy. Then the birch copy had some problems and you threw it and your roadie missed it I think because he held up something that looked like a broken Birch Guitar. You then played a good part of the concert on a Flying V. I remember wishing I had a camera to see you playing on the V. You played Life Is Real while repairs were being done. Freddie even joked if someone had an extra guitar to please bring it up. After the break in BORHAP you came back with the Old Lady."

Brian's reply:

"You evidently saw a special night ... the only night when I ever threw a guitar off stage in despair ! And, yes, I did hit the ground behind the stage - I'm pretty sure I thought I was throwing to someone, but evidently I misjudged it. And, yes, its neck snapped clean through. I kept it for a while, intending to get it fixed. But we decided it would probably never be good at staying in tune, because it wasn't a very rigid instrument. And not being able to get it in tune was what drove me to distraction that night, and this was what led to its demise! As I remember, this was on top of having problems with the Red Special in the beginning - in the heat of the moment, this was the final straw ! I imagine your bootleg of the show will reveal the problems I was having. These things usually make me feel ashamed, frustrated, angry, in the moment... I don't like giving people less than the best. So this picture really does tell a story ... a unique story. I wonder what happened to the Flying V ... As for the Birch guitar, well, we lent it to Guild, to compare, while they were making their Red specials under license in the 80's. Then we all forgot about it for many years. Then it turned up, and thanks to a friend (I think I told the story here) it now resides back with me. We have decided to keep it as it is, in pieces, just for historical interest, for the same reasons as before."

Brian has since reunited with the guitar, apparently after it was purchased on eBay. Its story and a couple pictures of it can be seen at Brian's website. It was repaired by Andrew Guyton, although it wasn't a complete restoration as Brian wanted to see exactly where he broke it.

The photo above was taken by Gary Gershoff. Here are a few pro photos from the show:

These photos were taken after the show, at a party in New York:

(x)

Fan Stories

“Queen played a great show, but when Brian started his Brighton Rock solo, he broke a string on "The Old Lady" and you could tell he was not happy. He actually threw that guitar at the stand and it fell over and me and my fellow RS/Brian/Queen fanatic buddy looked at each other in astonishment. He quickly was given the John Birch copy by his guitar tech and continued his solo. Well about two minutes go by and you could tell he was not happy with the Birch and then a string breaks on that guitar. He was on Deacons side of the stage and he runs over to his side towards his wall of Vox amps and hurls the guitar over the stack. His guitar tech brings out the Gibson Flying V and Brian finishes the solo. At the end of the solo the tech brings back "The Old Lady" restrung as Queen kicks back in. I believe at this point Brian was doing the solo in the middle of Now I'm Here. Some time between one of the next songs the Tech emerges from behind the stack to show Brian and the entire audience the result of Brians outrage as he holds up the two pieces of The John Birch. My friend and I looked at each other and knew we had just seen a bit of Queen history. From what I remember it was a case of the neck snapping off from the body. I remember a few months ago somehow the John Birch had turned up and Brian was curious about where and when it happened.” - Todd

[prismartist]

Haul Away Jay

Fandom: Just Roll With It (Riptide)

Words: 3175

CW: implied/referenced character death

Relationships: Chip & Jay Ferin & Gillion Tidestrider

Summary: Jay is bored. Very, very bored. So, understandably, she tries to find a way to entertain herself.

She wasn't quite expecting the entertainment to come in the form of a song and dance, or that the other two would be roped into it.

None of them are complaining, though.

A/N: @tokencishetchip idk if you remember but you asked to be tagged for this a little while back !! here's the albatrio having fun with a sea shanty :D

Ao3

– – –

If there was anything that Jay Ferin knew as she leaned on the railing of the Albatross one peaceful day, watching the sun slowly set beyond the horizon, it’s that she was unmistakably, undoubtedly, incredibly, and painfully, bored.

Maybe it was the juxtaposition of the current situation to cursed islands, cursed casinos, or crewmates being dumbasses (well, that wasn't really a curse, but it sure felt like one sometimes), but standing on a boat in the middle of an endless calm sea under an endless calm sky wasn’t the most exciting event in the world.

Jay let out a sigh that floated out onto the indifferent blue water. She heard Gillion shout something from atop the crow’s nest, and Chip shouting back in turn as he walked down from the helm and started lighting the lamps. It was nice to see the two working in harmony.

Old man Earl was nowhere to be seen, probably in the kitchen making dinner and more orange juice. Jay was looking forward to that the most right now. She wasn’t sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

Well, she thought as she redirected her attention back to the ocean, if only they could find the adventure they all hoped for.

Her mind drifted in an attempt to entertain herself, going back to her days in the tavern. She had spent hours there working her butt off for loud, gruff soldiers, laying down in bed afterwards and thinking that her aching bones and five hours of sleep weren’t worth it. Over time she had learned to ignore the exhaustion, but compared to the adrenaline-inducing fights and rewarding victories she experienced now, Jay didn’t miss it.

Suddenly, a melody started to creep into her mind, a tune that she didn’t expect to hear in a long while. While tied to the memory of the tavern, the feeling the song settled in her is calm, comforting even. Jay closed her eyes, allowing herself to listen to it.

Apple sang serenely as she sat on the crow’s nest, and her chirps melded into the melody that Jay now recognized.

It was an old sea shanty, one that Jay often heard from the navy soldiers that frequented the tavern. She recalled memories of drunk men singing joyously, unprofessional in their performance, as if they were celebrating being freed from their ruthless job even for a night. Sometimes though, the way they would sing would come out soft and genuine as they sat in relative sobriety after a hard-fought battle, reflecting as the first few hours of the dawn crept up behind them and the orange rays shone on the mournful men. Jay would look on, almost in awe, unable to believe these were the same people who maimed and killed and imprisoned.

Jay hummed the beginning of the tune to the best of her abilities, and did not notice Chip cast a curious glance at her. She faltered as she lost the words, struggling to remember.

How did it go again…?

Oh. Right.

“Oh maiden, oh maiden, the love to I,” Jay sang softly. “I adore the shimmer, the shimmer, the shine in your eyes.”

She smiled and started to continue, but was cut off suddenly by the sound of Chip’s voice. Her eyes flew open and she turned in his direction, having half a mind to snap at him, but stopped upon realizing what exactly he was saying.

Or, rather, singing.

“It enamours, enamours, thy light to my life.” Chip was as surprised as Jay, eyes wide as he continued easily as if by instinct. His voice was surprisingly smooth and not all that bad. “Thy touch, carries, it carries, my soul to the sky.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, processing what had just happened.

Jay tilted her head, and spoke, “How do you-”

“I-it’s a song, I– the Black Rose Pirates used to sing it all the time.” Chip saw a small flash of a memory, of fireflies fluttering around in hanging terrariums, of voices chanting the same song as Chip joined in. He gestured a bit wildly, as if he was trying to swat away the image. “You?”

“I heard it in the tavern a lot.” Jay chuckled, a little in disbelief. “I guess it’s more popular than I thought.”

Chip vaguely remembered being lifted into the air by a laughing Arlind, teasing him for messing up a line, the golden glow overhead. “I guess so-”

“And my love! I swear in the sun and the rain!” The booming voice of Gillion Tidestrider rang down, causing Chip and Jay to look up and see the Triton slide down the pole, landing with a flourish. He straightened and completed the verse in a perfect baritone. “That someday, our hands will intertwine once again.”

Gillion grinned at the other two’s astonished faces. “That's an oversea song, is it not? My sister taught it to me. I much enjoy it as well.”

Chip turned to Jay. “So definitely more popular than you thought,” he said.

“Yeah,” Jay muttered, feeling a grin grow on her face. “A little different in some places, but yeah.”

She found herself tapping her fingers against the boat to the beat of the shanty and humming the post-verse interlude. Gill and Chip noticed as well, and their eyes trained on her, silently assigning her the role of the shantyman.

Jay tensed up upon noticing. She’s not used to performing, especially in front of an audience (could you call two people an audience?). It’s far from one of her strong suits.

But after a moment of contemplation, she eventually decided that, fuck it, it’s time to sing.

They started this ballad, they might as well finish it.

“Oh damsel, oh damsel, my heart belongs to thee.” Her voice cracked a bit on the high note, which Chip snickered at, but Jay merely shot him a dirty look and continued. “If you are troubled, so troubled, you must only call on me.”

“And though it rages, it rages, the condescending sea,” Chip joined in, his smirk slowly morphing into a genuine smile.

“For you I know my journey will succeed,” he finished, noticing Gillion’s voice join in. Chip glanced at him for a second before letting out a soft chuckle.

Jay started stomping on the boat to get the beat going. To her delight, Chip clapped rhythmically and Gillion followed both their suits. Energized, Jay hummed louder.

“And my love, I swear in the waves and whirlpools,” all three sang together, “Soon we will meet and once again become whole.”

With a laugh, Jay skipped closer to the center of the ship. She spun and gestured, mimicking the dances she had observed at Loffinlot, imagining a band accompanying her as she sang as loud as she could.

La, la la la, la la la, la la la.

Gillion was quick to join her, imitating her dance. His heavy boots threatened to break the wood they danced on, but Jay only cared for the lovely bass beat and snare they happened to offer. She grinned at him approvingly, and Gill grinned back.

Off to the side, Chip hung back, providing the main melody.

“Oh lover, oh lover, don’t you dare cry.” Jay reached out a hand to Gillion, who took it. “But laugh and laugh under the pristine blue sky.” She raised it and lead him in a spin. “And never, oh never, would I ever lie. I wish nothing more than for us to reunite!”

Gillion grabbed Jay by the waist, catching her off-guard, but as he lifted her into the air, she loosened up and cheered, feeling the song come to an end.

When she landed, Jay made a show of dusting herself off before bowing to Gillion. Gill, ever the gentleman, bowed back, and Jay giggled.

She looked over to Chip, leaning against the railing and watching with a rather deflated smile. Jay raised an eyebrow. That didn’t look right.

Absent-mindedly tapping his toes, no longer minding the beat, Chip stewed deep in his thoughts. Seeing his friends dance their hearts out was a nice scenario, don’t get him wrong, but despite the undeniable want to join in the festivities, there was a hesitance that Chip couldn’t quite get over. Maybe it’s the weird ache when he remembered voices that he’d never hear again. Maybe it’s because he didn’t want to interrupt the others’ joy. Who knew. Chip sure didn’t.

And Chip definitely didn’t know why the sight of Jay marching towards him made him panic.

“Hey,” Jay said, and Chip immediately heard the over-friendliness in her voice. “What’re you doing, moping in the corner? You said you and the Black Rose Pirates sang this all the time, right?” She leaned forward and locked eyes with Chip, who tensed up. “So, show us what you got.”

She daintily held out a hand, and with it, a challenge. “Dance with us.”

Chip’s eyes grew impossibly wide as his face flushed. “Oh, nah, nahh, that’s okay, I’m really not a dancer,” he stammered. “And you guys are already done with the song, so I really don’t-”

“Gill.” Jay smirked. “Take the beat.”

“Wha-”

“On it!” Gillion grinned with sharp teeth and began to stomp and clap again. He hummed deeply, the tune once again emanating through the ship.

“Jay,” Chip begged, taking a step back. “I don-”

“Nope, round two, coward!”

“Ja-AAAAY!”

Chip yelped as Jay grabbed his arm and dragged him to the newly appointed dance floor, guiding his kicking and screaming form into one of dance. She took one of Chip’s hands and held it up, putting her other hand on his shoulder. “Your free hand on my waist,” she reminded him, ignoring his confused sputtering. “And one, two, three, go.”

She lead the dance in a sort of wild, messy foxtrot, stretching their clasped hands in the direction they move in, side skipping energetically. Chip stumbled at first, caught off-guard, but he quickly adjusted to her same pace, glancing at the ground to make sure he was keeping up. Seeing his face relax and the corners of his mouth quirk up, Jay smiled at him encouragingly.

“Sing, shantyman, it’s your turn,” she said.

Chip’s expression turned into horror once again, gulping as he scrambled to remember the words in time for the melody.

“O-oh maiden, oh maiden, the love to I,” sang Chip.

“I adore the shimmer, the shimmer, the shine in thy eyes,” he and Jay sang together.

“It enamours, enamours, thy light to my li-IIFE, JAY!” Chip screamed as Jay gave him a spin, laughing at his surprised shriek. “Jay, don’t just spin me without warning!”

“You’re being sloppy, shantyman,” Jay teased. “Keep up with the song.”

Chip glared, but continued nonetheless, “And my love, I swear in the sun and the rain.”

Jay gave him another spin, but this time, Chip didn't miss a beat. He gave Jay a smug, triumphant look. Jay raised an eyebrow in turn, admittedly impressed.

“That someday, our hands will intertwine once again!”

“Alright, nice,” Jay complimented, grinning widely.

Chip caught a mischievous glint in her eye, and his face consequently fell.

“One more spin, pretty boy!”

Before he could protest, Jay suddenly spun Chip away with a greater force than before, and the world around him became a blur, the air swirling with the sound of Jay’s devilish voice.

“Gillion,” he heard her yell, “catch!”

And Chip is spun into the arms of Gillion, who beamed at Chip’s very red face.

“Come, Chip.” Gill took both of Chip’s hands. Chip, still trying to recover from the jarring switch of partners, only blinked down at their now clasped fingers. “It is our turn.”

“Oh my god.” Chip laughed nervously.

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp.

“Oh damsel, oh damsel, my heart belongs to thee,” Jay belted as Chip and Gillion figured out their dance. “If you’re troubled, oh so troubled, you must only call on me.”

The other two started to push and pull in tandem, reminiscent of a cha-cha with a bit more energy and spins thrown in every once in a while. They surprisingly guided each other with more harmony and grace than Jay expected.

“And though it rages, it rages, the condescending sea.” Gillion leapt and circled with Chip, almost lifting the latter off the ground. “Just for thou I know that my journey shall succeed!”

“Gill, calm down!” Chip chuckled, partly in amusement and partly in fear, as he started to lose his footing.

Jay looked on, not ignorant to the warm fuzzy feeling in her chest, the beat pulsing along with the adrenaline in her veins.

“And my love, I swear in the waves and whirlpools, soon we will meet and once again become whole.”

Soon she joined them, whooping as she jogged, and they welcomed her with wide smiles, one pair of hands separating to reach out. Jay took the offer to form an interconnected circle, spinning and bobbing as they shared the melody. They sang, as loud as they could, filling the air with a joyful energy.

“Oh lover, oh lover, don’t you dare cry,” Chip started.

The others joined in. “But laugh and laugh under the pristine blue sky.”

And laugh they did, the pure euphoria of indulging in fond memories emitting from them. They stumbled and laughed through mistakes, put their all into the performance, harmonising wonderfully.

Jay caught Pretzel doing somersaults in her globe and Apple circling the crew, chirping the tune with them. She’s reminded of a joking conversation about starting a band. Perhaps they had a chance after all, she thought amusedly. Gillion and the Tidestriders. Chip and the Bastards. Jay and the Dumbass Bluebirds. Whatever you wanted to call it.

Now, though, they were simply three friends, holding hands and dancing, rattling the wood of the ship without a care, singing a sea shanty that they all happened to know.

The stars slowly flooded the darkening sky and twinkled at them like they were dancing along.

To one, the fresh air, the touch of familiar calloused hands that had fought alongside her, and the spray of the ocean was a welcoming contrast to past memories of stuffy spaces and dispassionate work. To another, though the memory was a bit painful, it still brought him the same comforting feeling from years ago, sharing laughter and celebration in a tight kinship that was expected in that of crewmates, deepening the bond with experiences that were not just in battle, but in recreation. And to another still, it was a reminder of a time when he was desperate to learn the oversea culture, and that he still remained ever so curious now as he learned its differences and similarities to his world, forming relationships with its inhabitants, people who were perhaps not as cruel as the elders had suggested.

Those who share such joyous experiences with others must not be that selfish, after all.

“And never, oh never, would I ever lie. I wish nothing more than for us to re-u-nite!”

Jay grinned up at the sky as they hummed the outro melody, a gust of wind sweeping down on them and carrying their voices away, out onto the shimmering waters.

La, la la la, la la la, la la la…

A tug from Jay led the trio up in one final leap, whooping and cheering with the others as they followed. And once their feet landed simultaneously with a bang, the song ended.

As the rush receded from her mind, the pumping blood in her ears quieting down, Jay took in the sound of the waves crashing up against the ship and her heaving breaths. She looked up at the now star-filled sky, wondering when it got so dark. She allowed her hand to slip from her friends’ grasps, moving to lean on bended knee. Jay heard the other two breathing quite heavily as well, and even a plop as Chip seemed to collapse out of the corner of her eye. She followed suit, sprawling onto the wood and closing her eyes, catching her breath. Jay wasn’t extremely tired, but she needed to recuperate.

“Oh god, you kids just had to make a racket up here, didn’t ya?”

Jay breathed out a chuckle upon hearing the raspy voice. “Hi Earl.”

“We were partying, Old man Earl!” Gillion said preppily, unsurprisingly not as out of breath as the others.

“Earl, you got…” A huff from Chip. “You got orange juice? Perhaps? Please?”

“Hmph, you’re fuckin lucky I do.”

Tired cheers chimed from the pirates.

“But you have to go down to get it with dinner. Chop chop.”

“Ohh, come onnnnn,” Chip whined, joining in with the groans of Jay.

“I’ve seen you work, you’re not that tired,” Earl scoffed. “Maybe you shouldn’t have wasted all your energy on destroying the ship! And your vocal chords.”

“Hey, I don’t think we sounded that bad,” Jay said.

“Whatever, just come down and have dinner, I’m definitely not hefting everything up here.” Earl barked out a laugh and proceeded to go back down, ignoring the cries of Jay and Chip.

Soon Gillion’s face popped into Jay’s view. “Are you alright, Jay?” He glanced over. “Chip?”

“I’m coming around,” Jay assured. She stretched her arms up, making grabby hands. “Pull me up?”

Gillion complied, grabbing her arms and lifting her, though at a faster-than-preferred pace. Jay let out a yelp as she got back on her feet before stretching with a groan.

“Thanks, Gill.”

“Hey Giiiilll? Big man? Can I go next?”

Jay looked to Chip, who also had outstretched arms. Gillion walked to him and helped him up as well.

“Thanks, buddy.” Chip patted Gill on the back.

“No problem. Honestly, I did not think you would tire out so easily.”

“Well we need to gain back our energy, then,” Jay said, starting to follow Old man Earl.

“Hey, uh, Jay, um.” Chip caught her attention, and she turned back to see him with a raised hand. He moved it to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly. “That was… that was fun.”

“I agree,” Gillion said with a nod. “I was reminded of some… rather fond memories, actually. And it was a good exercise. We should do it more.”

“Yeah, yeah actually, same. I agree.” Chip looked up at Jay, his face rather tentative. “So, thanks for that, I guess.”

Jay smiled. “You’re welcome, dweeb,” she jabbed. “You’re being more affectionate than usual, but I appreciate it.”

“Hey, don’t call me a dweeb!” Chip’s expression morphed into one of offense. “I just thanked you, that’s so insensitive of you. That’s actually insensitive.”

“I let you fulfill your showman dreams, you’re the one being insensitive right now.”

“Showman- hey, I actually like the sound of that.”

“Yeah you would, you drama queen.”

“You’re calling me dramatic? Have you seen Gill?”

The sound of bickering paired with Gillion’s oblivious chimes trailed below the deck, leaving a fond memory to the glittering dark waters and the twinkling stars still dancing along.

[themadlostgirl]

Abandoned (10)

*Fluff with some mild smut to spicen things up and finally finished with even more fluff.*

~~~

Life was relatively peaceful following Baelfire’s escape and Wendy’s return all things considered. There were bad days where Peter’s emotions turned the island into a misery but most of the time everything remained bright and sunny. I think I loved the nights the most though. As beautiful as the days in Neverland were there was something magical about night time.

The island had gone to sleep. The only sound was that of the ocean lapping against shore and the rustle of wind in the trees. It was like the world had taken a deep breath and relaxed. It was during this time that I treasured with Peter most. He ran around the island a lot during the day but the nights were reserved for the two of us and the two of us alone.

On this such night we were at my camp. The fire we had built now only glowing coals. I sat between Peter’s legs as we stared out over the ocean. Peter asked me to sing something. I went into a quiet rendition of an old favorite of mine before Peter stopped me.

“Do you know any other songs?” He asked, “Make no mistake, swordfish, I love hearing you sing whatever your heart desires but I was hoping you might have a tune that I maybe haven’t heard from your lips yet.”

“There is one song I know almost all the lyrics to.” I shrugged, “I just haven’t thought about it until you said something.”

“Well then, please,” Peter pulled me closer, “Sing it for me.”

I took a deep breath and hummed to myself trying to remember the rhythm.

“The ship, it swayed. Heave-ho, heave-ho. On the dark and stormy blue. And I held tight to the captain's might as he pulled up his trews.” I sang quietly, “‘You haven't slept,’ Heave-ho, he said ‘In many suns and moons.’ Oh, I will sleep when we reach shore, And pray we get there soon. He said, ‘Now hush love, here's your gown, there's the bed, lanterns down.’ But I don't want to go to sleep. In all my dreams I drown.”

“Kind of foreboding. It is haunting but also pretty.” Peter said, “What is it?”

“I’m not sure. I remember being in a big tent when I heard it. I always liked the song even if I didn’t know what it was trying to say at the time. I think my father didn’t like it. Didn’t like when I sang it.”

“Then you must continue.” Peter encouraged, “Go on my little siren, sing to me.”

“The captain howled Heave-ho, heave-ho and tied me up with sheets. A storm is brewing in the South. ‘It's time you go to sleep.’ His berth, it rocked Heave-ho, heave-ho. The ocean gnashed and moaned. Like Jonah, we'll be swallowed whole and spat back teeth and bones. He said, ‘Now hush love, here's your gown, there's the bed, lanterns down.’ But I don't want to go to sleep in all my dreams I drown.”

I hesitated to sing the next verse. Peter nodded at me to keep going.

“Captain! Captain! I will do your chores. I will warm your cot at night and mop your cabin floors. Scold me, hold me! I'll be yours to keep. The only thing I beg of you, don't make me go to sleep.”

“I think I understand why daddy dearest didn’t like this song. To hear his little girl sing about being tied up in sheets and warming someone’s bed, not something a doting and protective father would want to hear.”

“Oh yes, the two words I would use to describe that bastard are doting and protective.” I sneered, “Why does he have to sour so many of my memories? I don’t have many and yet he keeps cropping up in them with that damn smirk.”

“Well there is a bright side to this tainted memory.”

“And what is that?”

“A new lovely image to imagine.” he smirked. My body flooded with heat as the same image drifted through my mind. “I see I’m not the only one intrigued by the concept.”

“I never said--”

“You didn’t have to,” Peter leaned in closer, overwhelming me with the heat and scent of his body. “Does my little spitfire like that idea? Restrained against a bed without a scrap of clothes on. Having me on top of you, pleasing you? So close to touch but no way to do so?”

“Almost sounds like torture.” I said, finally finding my tongue.

“A very sweet torture it would be though.” He kissed me. “Shall we rehearse?”

“Peter…”

“Not to worry, precious. It’s just a game and we can stop at any time. Trust me?”

I swallowed back the alarms ringing in my head and nodded. Excitement filling the spots where terror would have resided instead. “Good girl,” He pushed the jacket off of my shoulders. His hands hovered over the laces of my stays before I started undoing them myself and shucked them to the side. Peter eyed the shirt I was wearing as well but didn’t make a move to remove it. I was almost disappointed.

He laid me back against the ground and raised my arms above my head. “The rules are simple, spitfire.” He said, “Keep your hands right there no matter what. If you move them without me saying so then I’ll be forced to punish you. Got it?”

“I think you’re enjoying this game far too much.” I tried to ignore the heat that radiated off him as he straddled my legs. I was sufficiently pinned down with no easy escape.

“I said,” he kept my arms pinned with his hands, “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I gulped.

“Good.” He gazed over me as if looking for where he wanted to start.

He hadn’t even started yet and I was already breathing hard. Memories drifting up from a dark place in my mind.

Trapped.

Peter’s eyes softened and he touched my cheek. “Are you sure you want to play this game?” He asked, “I don’t want to force you, my pearl.”

I smiled. The knot of anxiety in my chest melting away. I’m not trapped. I can stop this at any time. “I’m sure. I trust you to make me feel good.”

“I will,” Still leaning over me he pressed a feather soft kiss to my forehead, then another to either of my temples. Next my eyes, my cheeks, my nose and all along my jaw. It was almost sweet. But if there’s one thing I know about Peter is that he doesn’t do sweet. Not for long at least.

He moved further down pressing kisses to my neck and along my collar bone and shoulders. I balled my hands into fists to still them from wanting to tangle them in his hair. This was harder than I thought it would be. He sucked hard on one of my weak spots and I whined loudly. He chuckled against my pulse and continued on unperturbed.

His hands wound from their grip on my wrists down my arms and traced over my body. Had my shirt always been this thin or did it just feel that way because Peter was touching me? Where his hands went his mouth shortly followed. The edge of my shirt was riding further up as Peter exposed more and more skin. Pressing hot kisses along my abdomen.

“Such a pretty little treasure you are,” he whispered as he moved his way back up to my neck. “And you’re being so obedient for once. You’ve behaved well so far, anything you want me to do?”

“I’d like it if you would kiss me properly.”

He grinned wider and pressed his mouth to mine. I kissed him back hungrily. For a moment I almost forgot about our game and my hands started to move before I positioned them back in place. My little slip up didn’t go unnoticed from Peter who pulled back from our kiss with a smirk. “Getting harder to obey, spitfire?”

“Isn’t it a good thing that I want to touch you?”

“It is a very good thing,” A gleam sparkled his eye, “Tell me how much you want to touch me. If you could, where would you touch me? My face? My hair?”

“Yes,” I answered, “But that’s not only where I’d touch you.”

“Oh really?”

“I want to feel the muscles in your arms. Run my hands down your chest.”

“Brave girl,” Peter took off his tunic and my eyes went wide. “Is this what you wanted? What you wanted to badly to touch?”

I nodded. My voice useless. He leaned down resting the naked weight of his torso along my chest. “Such a shame that you can’t,” He kissed my neck, “But I can touch you.”

“Enjoying the power high?” I asked, trying not to show how flustered I really was.

“Immensely.” He kissed me down the center of my chest and between the valley of my breasts. The only part of my torso that remained covered yet. Peter gauged my reaction before swiping a thumb over my left breast.

The moan that left me had me burning with embarrassment and arousal. Peter smiled at my reaction and did it again to the right earning another low moan. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to my shirt.

I nodded again. He shucked my shirt up and pulled it from my body. Certainly not how I had imagined the night going but I wasn’t complaining either. The both of us naked from the waist up illuminated by the moonlight. He laid back down. Letting the feel of our skin touching one another settle and warm us. He was shaking slightly and it occurred to me that he was probably just as pleasantly nervous as I. He kissed me hard and I responded in earnest. By the stars I wanted to touch him so badly.

He left my lips and I whined as the solid warmth of his body went with him. “Don’t complain, precious. I’m not going far.” His head dipped to my chest, taking full advantage of the fact that my shirt was now gone. My breathing came harder as he swiped his tongue experimentally over my breast.

“Peter!” I moaned, uncaring of the noises I was making anymore. He continued to lavish one breast with his mouth, sucking on it until it pebbled and running his tongue across it while his hand massaged the other one into a similar state. My body arching against him.

All the while I moaned and whined while trying desperately to keep my hands in place. This really wasn’t fair. “Peter,” I whimpered as he switched to suck on my other breast and fondle the other. “Peter please!”

“Please what?” he asked.

“Please let me touch you.”

“Since you asked so nicely…no.”

“Fuck you!” I snapped and he laughed.

“Well if you really want to,” He playfully bit my nipple and I yelped.

“You are such an ass!”

“You love it.” He squeezed the other harder and I whined louder again. “Stay in place, I’m not through with you yet.”

My hands fisted uselessly in the sand. More time slipped by as he went on his merry way of unraveling me. I had the biggest urge to throw the rules to the wind and tackle him so I could finally have some access but I kept my arms high above my head. If this was a game then I was going to win. Besides, the path to winning was pretty sweet too.

By the time he released me from my imaginary bonds my body was slick with sweat and there were a variety of bruises dotting my skin. The moment he said I could stop restraining myself I tackled him to his back. “My turn,” I grinned as I positioned his arms above his head like he had with me. “Or do you not want to be the one restrained?”

“Want to try your hand at being in charge?” He smirked.

“I am in charge.” I nipped at his neck, “Now be good for me. Just like I was good for you.”

I started slow just as he had. Feather soft kisses to his most sensitive places. Tracing my hands along his face and chest. Hearing his breath quicken under me as I sucked hard on his neck. Fingernails scratching down his chest. Muttered obscenities as I ventured lower. A kiss above his hip. A lick up the smooth expanse of his abdomen. A swipe of my tongue across his nipples.

“Damn woman!” Peter groaned when I tugged on his hair, wrenching his head up so I could taste his neck better. “Let me touch you!”

“You got to touch me plenty.” I reminded him, “It’s my turn now.”

I met his eyes. His pupils were dilated wider than I had ever seen. A bead of sweat collected on his brow. I swiped the curls from his forehead and kissed him there. I put my mouth to his and squeaked at the ferocity of which he kissed me back. The one thing he was allowed to do in this state of restraint.

I chuckled and pulled back again. A dark look passed over his face at my retreat. “Done already, Lost Girl?”

“Far from it,” I took my time to look him over, “Just wanted to take a look at my progress.”

“And you said I enjoyed this too much.”

“Let’s just say I understand you better now.” I repositioned myself and froze when I felt a hard ridge probing between my legs. Peter sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Well hello again.” I chuckled. The fear and dread I would have felt before evaporating into nothingness. I wasn’t trapped. This was my choice.

“What can I say, has a mind of its own.” Peter laughed dryly. He kept his face turned from me.

“Is that a blush I see?” I didn’t move from my position over his erection. “Are you embarrassed, Peter?”

“I’m not--” He cut off with a moan as I gave an experimental roll of my hips against his. “You are playing a dangerous game, spitfire.”

“Aren’t all our games dangerous?” I rolled again and this time my moan joined his. This was certainly different from last time.

“Fuck the games,” Peter sat up and pulled me flush against his body. The hard ridge of flesh between us grinding against me at a new angle. “Tell me to stop. Now!”

“No.” I bucked against him on instinct. My body craving more of the sweet friction between us. “Don’t ever stop.”

“You’ll be the death of me. I swear it.” He kissed me hard. One hand was tangled in my hair while the other rested on my hip urging me to continue moving. “How does it feel?” He asked after I got into a motion.

“Good. Really good.” I moaned louder, holding to him tighter. “I didn’t know it could feel this good.”

“Me either,” he quickened our pace. His eyes were screwed shut as he continued to rut against me. His breathing was labored and more moans and groans fell ceaselessly from his lips. I latched my lips to his neck and sucked hard on the sweet spot I knew drove him wild. “By the stars I love you.”

My world snapped back together and my hips stilled. Peter seemed to realize what he said as well and gazed up at me. “You love me?” I asked.

He visibly gulped, eyes wide with panic. “I do. I love you.”

I kissed him. It wasn’t urgent per say. It was just a kiss, deeply felt and spread a warmth throughout my whole body. “I love you too, Peter.”

That sparked something in him and he started moving my hips against him again. I took up the pace from before. My world was boiling over with heat and love. A heady combination.

“Say it again, my pearl.” His voice cracked with the plea, “Say it again.”

“I love you,” I gasped as I ground down on him harder, “I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you!”

“Again!”

“I love you! Peter! I love you! I love you! I love you!” I screamed as my body finally flew over the edge it had been rocketing towards this entire time. Peter yelled my name as his own hips bucked hard against me. The high we were at slowing down as we stilled. He collapsed onto his back and I followed after him trying desperately to catch my breath.

I stretched to peck his lips affectionately. “Peter,” I whispered, “You love me.”

He laughed, brushing a finger against my cheek. “Yes my pearl, I love you.”

“Does my love want to go wash off in a lagoon with me? Sweat and sand makes for an uncomfortable combination.”

“You want me to be in the same place as you when we’re both naked and wet and right after we just did that?”

“Think of it as your punishment.” I smirked, “After all, you did break the rules and touched me when you weren’t supposed to. You get to be so close but not allowed to touch me.”

“Who said that you get to deal out punishments?”

“I did. Since I was the one that actually obeyed the rules.” I stood up, my legs slightly wobbly. Peter wasn’t in much better condition though he tried to hide it.

We found a small lagoon to wash off in and I turned around to undress. Considering I had just been grinding against him not ten minutes ago I shouldn’t have felt so strange about this. When I peeked over my shoulder to see if he was watching I found him facing away from me as well as he hopped around trying to pull his boots off. I snorted and turned back around. It made me feel better knowing that he was just as awkward about this as me.

I heard a splash and knew Peter was in the water. It was my turn. I turned around slowly. Peter was watching me from the water and quickly looked away when I caught him staring at my nude body. Adorable.

I stepped into the water and let out a content sigh as I sunk down up to my neck. “We should go night swimming more often. This is lovely.”

“Yes,” Peter said. He still wasn’t looking directly at me as he rinsed the grime of the day away.

“Peter,” I swam closer to him and saw him tense up. “Is this uncomfortable for you? I can get out if it is.”

“No. That’s not it.” He said, his back turned towards me, “I was told I’m not allowed to touch you so I’m not touching you.”

“That doesn’t mean you don��t have to look at me.”

“Yes it does.” He sighed, “If I look at you then I’m going to want to touch you and I’m trying my best to obey your rules, precious.”

I wrapped my arms around him from behind. He became tense in my arms as I pressed my chest to his back. My forehead rested between his shoulder blades. I pressed a small kiss to his shoulder and he breathed out. His body melting against mine.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to be touching.” His hands overlapped mine resting on his stomach.

“Rules are stupid.” I murmured. “Besides, you just told me you loved me. How am I meant to keep my hands to myself after that?”

“I meant what I said but I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that.” He scoffed, “Hardly seemed like the appropriate time to let you know that I had fallen in love with you. You just felt so good in my arms and you were so trusting of me and...I love you. I needed you to know right that second.”

“I’m just glad that you said it at all. I’ve been wanting to tell you the same thing for a long time now but was too scared. I was worried that you’d think I was asking for more than you were willing to give. I knew you cared about me but love is such a foreign concept to me nowadays I didn’t even want to imagine what you thought of it. Figured even the sound of it would offend you.”

“Before I met you probably. So much has changed since you flew into my life.”

“My whole life got upheaved when I met you.” I chuckled. “But for the better.”

“Only for the better, my love.” Peter turned around and kissed me. “You make it so difficult to be a gentleman looking as alluring as you do.”

“One of these days we’ll have sex. I can promise that.” I pecked his lips again. “Not tonight but someday. Maybe someday soon.”

“I look forward to the day you ask me to make love to you.” Peter traced my cheek with his thumb. “Maybe then I can look at you naked and not be so flustered.”

“I don’t know. I like seeing you act coy.” I booped his nose, “Makes me feel kinda special knowing that I can fluster you so easily.”

“You’re the only one that can do that, swordfish. Not another person alive has as much control over me as you do.” There was something akin to reverence in his eyes as he stared at me. “I do truly love you with everything that I am.”

I hugged him close. We stayed in the lagoon, our skin growing pruny but neither of us caring. We simply existed next to each other and it was bliss. This is what love was meant to feel like. What true love felt like. I wondered how I had gone so long without it. Without him. My love. My Peter Pan.

---

(Previous) (Next)

[moriartysnerd]

Jim Moriarty x rockstar!reader

A/N: this is my first time ever writing with moriartys character. It may be off from his true character and there may be human error. Apologise in advance.

The sweat dripped down, circling around your body as you continued to prance around the stage. By now the speakers had cut off any noise that wasn’t the beat or your own voice. The constant beat of your guitar bouncing against your abdomen and hips had started to become slightly sore. You flicked your head back, while grabbing your guitar, in an attempt to move the damped mess out of your eyes. The crowed was cheering, almost mimicking the ringing in your ears as you swallowed dryly. You where out of breath and worn out, but by God where you going to give the last verse your all. Finally, you stilled on stage, feet glued to a particular position as the lights faded to black. You panted hard unable to catch your breath, your lungs hurt, your eyes hurt, your throat hurt but holy shit, that was one of the best performances of your life. You’d spent months on this tour, and needless to say, your partner back in London didn’t seem to be too happy about it. He’d warned you how bored he’d be without your undivided attention. James had built your career. He was somewhat of a manger for you. When he first came up to you, you’d never recognised him. It was a cold evening, your fingers hurt twice as much as they did remembering the events

——————————————————

You where softly strumming on your guitar in the middle of London town centre, waiting for your friends to finish up with their classes and come and meet you. The unfortunate thing about going to a separate university was the scattered time tables. You weren’t causing too much attention to yourself, it was a busy day and at worst people would think you where a busker. You where only tuning your guitar back up, it was starting to sound pitchy and unpleasant and you needed it perfect for the bar later tonight. You weren’t just specialised in the guitar. You where a jack of all trades. Could play a lot of instruments. Thinking back that must of been what James saw in you. It had to be. It wasn’t long until you caught the attention of someone, despite it being a humid day he still wore a trench coat and scarf. A shorter man following behind him. They taller man seemed to stop when you locked eyes, hair being brown back by the wind. You found the nerve to atleast smile, he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. The fear finally stuck you when he headed quickly towards you, muttering to himself. He was analysing you. It didn’t take a genius to realise that. His loyal lap dog following short after. The shorter man seemed to limp, he stuttered on a few words but managed to keep a conversation with you going. The questions lingered in your head longer than you’d like to admit, and with the cloaked man looming over you. You felt trapped.

“My names doctor John Watson, and this is sherlock.”

You recognised him. How could you not. The Sherlock Holmes. They wernt there to hurt you. They where there to interrogate you. Johns words seemed to calm you once you realised who they where. Fortunately for you the conversation and answers didn’t last Long when you heard a groan from sherlock, who suddenly stormed off calling back behind him.

“They don’t know anything John. They havnt been here for that long. No change from the music. Even their fingers arnt reddened from playing their guitar. Well loose the suspect if we wait any longer.”

John sighed. It seemed as if he was used to being dragged all over the place. He thanked you before waddling back after sherlock. You groaned softly, you wernt a busker, but you didn’t dare say that out loud. Imagine telling a famous detective he was wrong. You sighed softly, running your fingers through your soft hair, taking a step back you heard a crunch. Instantly looking down, you seemed to pray you hadn’t accidentally stood on a pigeon. Thankfully, it wasn’t. However, what was there seemed somthing more important that the slight decrease in London’s flying rat population. A pendrive. It wasn’t there when you first sat down. And no one other than the detective and his faithful sidekick had been near you. You added up the dots rather quickly. It couldn’t be important, Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t of just simply dropped something right? You picked up the drive, looking around before shoving it into your pocket. Going back to your guitar, finally your friends came from around the corner. They all looked out of breath, it was reliving that they’d actually run to meet you. You loved your group of nerds. However the rest of the day was draining. You couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on you. Not fully anyway. Even with your friends constantly around you there was always something just slightly off. It was later that evening when you met James. You where about to come on stage when a man in a gorgeous black suit came out, he had a soft Irish accent and smelt of mint and old books. He instantly caught your attention. His little smirk covered his face as he realised you where staring.

“Didnt mummy ever tell you not to stare my dear?”

You face flushed with embarrassment as you clutched your guitar case. Biting your lip hard and walking past him to get to the stage. To this day his little chuckle still rang through your mind.

——————————————————

After they lead you off stage you where taken back to your dressing room and completely spoilt. They made sure you had water, and an ice pack just incase and they finally left you alone. Once alone the realness set it and all you could think about was James. How mad you where at him. How you’d left London angry as he screamed about how he’d made you.

“I could just as easily take it away”

you mimicked under your breath. Fists clenching into balls.

“What was that, my love?”

——————————————————

It wasn’t until after your little solo that you ran into James again. This time he was outside when you left. You where planning on leaving with friends but the night hadn’t planned out this way when two of your friends had gotten so drunk they’d thrown up. Another vivid memory you’d never forget. The Irish man approached you, smirking a little wider as you kept your eyes of him

“You’re learning.”

He spoke softly standing just infront of you, you wanted to know what he wanted. He knew it But the drawn out silences caused you to crack faster

“Can I help you?”

You asked, trying to keep it polite. You wernt one to judge based on looks, but he looked important.

“Your preformance. I want to represent you, wouldn’t you like to be a star my dear? I could make you shine.”

—————————————————————

“What was that, my love?” The sweet sound of his voice filled the quiet room as you turned to glare. The second you locked eyes your glare softened. You couldn’t stay mad at him, well you could, just not when he came out all the way from London.

“I didn’t think you’d ever leave London.”

“For you dear the distance was worth it.”

He tried to make a move towards you before you stood up, backing further away. He stopped in his tracks, chuckling and looking down.

“Still bad blood?”

—————————————————————

He’d lied to you. About everything. You’d figured it out a few months after. All because of that stupid pendrive. You’d left it out in the open when James had first visited your apartment. It was quite a cozy small space. You’d put the kettle on and had a cup of tea while discussing what you where studying in uni. The man seemed very enthralled with what you had to say, and everything about you if we’re being honest. By the time he had left the pendrive was also gone. You didn’t think to much of it. A clumsy mistake, you’d misplaced it. That wasn’t the case. You’d found the pendrive in James’s pocket once again when he came to visit. Only it was accompanied by a second one. You bit your lip and placed them on the table while he was in the kitchen. He’d noticed they’d been moved. But didn’t hide them. He didn’t even pick them up when he left. He just left. It had information. Cases on Sherlock Holmes. Most importantly the victims of the London bombings. A full detail description of each and every single one of them And that’s when the knock came on your door. Sherlock Holmes himself.

“He’s stalking me! I don’t know what he wants but he won’t leave me alone Y/N! I never asked for this I never-“

“Jim. Jim Moriarty. He told me James... he told me everything. He had photos. Evidence. He took those pendrives. You’ve been using me as a messenger for months. Sherlock knew that if he faked an interest in me. You’d use me. And that’s what you did. I was secretly passing both of you those pendrives without even knowing. I was helping a criminal!”

James snapped out of his little victim role. He chucked and shook his head

“smart, very smart my dear. It’s a shame, my plans for you wernt over yet...”

You shook your head frantically, and grabbed your suitcase. Leaving soon after. The criminal didn’t even give chase. He watched you leave. He knew he’d hurt you.

“I made you.”

——————————————————

You glared at the now foreign man stood there. Your gaze was burning into his soul. He was right. He made you. He could take it all away. But was it really yours to begin with. Moriarty sensed your thoughts by the look on your face and gently moved to put his arm around your waste, this time you didn’t stop him. You leaned into him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“See, isn’t it so much better to be in daddy’s arms agian kitten?”

He was a psycho. he’d ruined you. He was a murderer. He killed people. He blackmailed people. But, he was different with you, he was kind and gentle, he’d helped you with you career. You where already in to deep. He wouldn’t let any harm come to you. In that moment. That was good enough. You locked eyes with jim Moriarty. Your Jim Moriarty. And gently placed your hot lips aginst his, pulling him closer by the jacket and slowly letting him claim you. You tried to pull away when you needed air but Moriarty just chased your lips. Even outside of work he couldn’t help the torture. When you two finally separated you looked deep into his eyes, holding his face in the palm of your hand.

“I love you Jim Moriarty.”

“I know you do my love. That was the plan.”

[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 12

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11  Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader (Best Friend) Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 2420

Warnings: Slight bit of swearing

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Eyup My loves! Soo How’s your week been? Good I hope, so a bit of news for you all, there’s only  two/three more chapters left till this book is finished and then we’ll be moving onto (Drum roll) The First Avenger! Woooo! I hope you’re all as excited as I am. Anyways without anymore rambling, I give you chapter 12, enjoy!

So I can safely say that the rest of the week passed pretty quickly, with only a few ‘minor’ incidents, one of em being a massive food fight caused by yours truly and Steve getting himself stuck in the basement for 2 hours after seeing, and I quote ‘a possessed girl dressed as undead batman’.

I still haven’t told him that was me….oops

Apart from that it was pretty normal, cut to today where I’ve been blessed with the task of lookin’ after my best girl for Buck’s parents anniversary whilst they go into the city to celebrate, I mean it’s the least I could do for em. Plus, the last time the lads were trusted with lookin’ after Becca, Buck’s parents came home to the entire house covered in flour with Becca laughin’ at em cause they managed to lock themselves in a cupboard. We had to call the fire department to get em outta there.

Anyways, we kicked the boys outta the house so Becca and I could have a girls day in, now don’t get me wrong I absolutely adore this girl and I would practically do anything for her.

“Y/n can we play princesses please?! Mama got some dresses from our cousin we can wear!”

I can literally feel my soul burning right now. I honestly tried to say no, there’s nothing more I hate more that being forced into them things but one look into her bright little eyes made all my resistance die away and so I uttered the words that sealed my doom. “Of course, Becs only if we can have a tea party in em”. So here we are, me in a navy style party dress, lace covered my arms and the hem of the sweetheart neckline resting just on my collarbone,  the knee length satin skirt covered my legs.

Honestly, I wasn’t as bad I thought it were gonna be, I even let my hair outta the classic ponytail it’s always in so Becca could style it a tiny bit, to her credit she did a decent job. My h/c locks fell in small waves across my back, with the longer strands near my face tucked behind my ears and Becs even convinced me to pop on some of her mama’s makeup. Now I ain’t a fool, I know makeup’s pretty expensive and only let her pop on a shimmery light gold eyeshadow and some tinted lip balm, much to her disappointment I confiscated the mascara, I refused to let that death stick near my eyeballs.

Becca looked absolutely adorable, we’d managed to find her dance dress from last year and it suited her down to the ground. Baby pink lace covered her arms up to her wrist, the middle part had little gems dotted here and there with a pink satin ribbon separating the skirt from the top, from the looks of it the skirt was made outta some layered netting that poofed outwards when she span around. Don’t ask me how but I managed to wrap some ribbons in her braids and added a lil tiara on the top of her head and if you’d asked me, she looked like a real-life princess to me.

“So, your highness, what would one prefer to do? Would one like to have tea in the parlour or waltz in the ballroom?” my attempt at the British accent was apparently appalling, judging by the level of giggles coming outs Becca’s mouth. Eventually she calmed down enough to give me an answer “I think a waltz would be most fun lady y/n” she said in an equally bad accent. Slowly a smile spread across my face as I moved over to the record payer, I didn’t even pay attention to which one I put on before I turned back to Becca and offered her my hand, lowering myself into a bow that looked like a squid tryin’ to tap dance. Very elegant I know.  

You’d think after the past few weeks I’d been with the Barnes family, I’da got used to being tackled by the siblings, but alas I am surprised every-time, hence why I’m on the floor with a hyperactive 4 year old sat on top of me. Becca’s giggles filled the entire room, she quickly got off me and started jumping around to the sound of the jumpin’ jive and leaving me to slowly die on the floor, for all of 5 seconds before she yanked my arm outta my socket to get me dancing with her. I swear this girl isn’t even human, one second she’s sweet and delicate the next she’s bulldozing people to the ground and pullin’ em to the next life, I mean she’s 4 she shouldn’t be that strong!

Thank the lord she’s adorable. Quickly the music took over my mind, my feet moving along to the music, Becca was doin’ some twirls around me with the biggest smile on her face, I don’t know what made me do it but I grabbed her gently by the waist and spun us around in time to the music, her little arms reached into the air as we both laughed our heads off. Of course, me being me, I lost my balance and my butt suddenly met the sofa, with Becca landing next to me with a small yelp, it was quiet for all of 2 seconds before we burst out laughin’. Think it took us about 3 minutes before we calmed down, a comfortable silence fell between us, the music slowly faded to a stop as the record reached its end, and we stayed like this for a while before Becca broke the silence.

“Y/n, can you sing like mama? She don’t do it often cause it reminds her of my nana….” My eyes drifted over to Becs, her lil eyes dulled a little when she said it and now they were filled with a small glimmer of hope, and I really didn’t wanna be the reason for that light goin’ out. If I were being completely honest singin’ wasn’t something I ever wanted to do again, during my time with the Црни лабуд, singing was the only thing that made me feel like….well me I guess. It was the only sliver of light in so many years of darkness and once I was free from them I made myself a silent vow that I’d never do it again, that I was a new person. But one look in her little eyes was enough to make me break it. “I ain’t too bad, only know a couple of songs on the piano but I can try if you wanna”

Apparently Becca didn’t need to be told twice, in a flash of pink she was off to the other room, bellowing for me to follow her, I mean it ain’t like I gotta choice in the matter is it ? the sound of something hitting the floor in the room opposite me made me move even quicker (if that were even possible). Becca was stood in front of a oldish looking piano, a small bench was tuned over in front of her, and a white sheet was discarded on the floor next to her as she bounced up and down excitedly, I couldn’t help the smile on my face as I turned the bench over on it’s feet. Not even 2 seconds later Becca clambered up on it and looked at me with a bright smile, I swear she gets cuter every second like how does this happen ? I try it and I end up put away in a mental asylum.

“You got any requests princess ?” my legs carried me across the room and towards the seat, cracking my knuckles together and stretching out my fingers before turning to look at the younger lass, a look of concentration covered her face in response and it took her a few seconds to answer. “Dream a little dream of me ? think that’s what mama calls it” I swear I tried to stop the soft smile, but I really couldn’t help it this time. “sure sweetheart” and with that I hit the opening notes, the feeling of the keys under my fingertips were so familiar it was like no time had passed since I last played, I kept my voice soft and quiet as I sang. I think I was halfway through my second verse when I felt Becca cuddle into my side, she ducked her head under my arm and put her head in my lap, a soft yawn left her mouth as her eyes started to close to the sound of the music. It was at the end of the song that I looked at her again, soft snores escaped her mouth and her hand was grasping gently at the top of my skirt, I felt my heart melt even more that I thought possible, completely unaware of the small audience I’d gathered until a small cough came from behind me.

Aw shit…..

Bucky’s POV

If you’d told me a year ago, that after spending a couple of hours at Coney island with my best mate I’d come home to what must be an angels voice singing my sister to sleep. I’da never of believed ya, think you coulda imagined our confusion when me and Steve heard piano coming from the dining room. Steve shot me a look of pure bewilderment, and I couldn’t blame the guy to be honest, “thought you’d said your mama gave up piano couple a years ago”. I’m guessing my face mirrored his, cause I ain’t the slightest clue either, mama stopped playin’ years ago so who the heck could it be? “yeah she did bud, swore she’d never set her hands on it again…..”. I’m completely and utterly baffled at this point, where’s Y/n when ya need her ? she’d figure this out.

We both took a step towards the closed door, eager to know what the hell was going on when something stopped me, the sweetest sound I’d ever heard in my life sang along with the melody, I coulda sworn it sounded like the lullaby mama sang to us when we were kids. I guess I spent too long listening cause Stevie boy pushed past me and walked in, the sounds were so much clearer and more vibrant it felt like I’d died and gone to heaven right then and there. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I realised just who was creating this beautiful sound, there she was, sat in front of the piano as her fingers danced gracefully across the keys. Her voice, oh god her voice sounded like that of an angel, the weak afternoon sun shone over her hair and made her look even more angelic than humanly possible. I barely even noticed Becca asleep in her lap before Y/n finished her song and the ever-living pain in my ass decided to reveal that we were there. I mean he coulda chosen any other way of revealing our presence but no he had to let out the tiniest little cough, coulda got her back for the eyebrow incident….

Y/n literally went stiff as a board before she turned to look at us, her cheeks were red as a rose and a sheepish smile covered her face, it was only a couple of seconds after that both Steve and I noticed what she was wearing, he burst out laughin at her but me, I for once in my life couldn’t say a damn thing. She looked absolutely breath taking, her hair fell down in soft waves and framed her face, the shade of blue in her dress brought out the small flecks of green in her e/c eyes and brought out her hourglass figure. Her lips were drawn into a natural pout and it was that second it dawned on me she asked me somethin’….shit.  

“whaaaa…….” Nice one Bucky.

Steve, the lil punk, could barely stop himself laughin’, at some point he’d moved to take Becca off Y/n and stood behind y/n with his fist in his mouth to smother his laughter. My best friend ladies and gentlemen. If looks could kill he’d be 10 feet under right now.

“Buck ? I was askin’ if you were okay ?” Y/n’s face showed a tiny bit of confusion and much to my horror amusement, “YeAh I’m okay….” And just at the moment puberty strikes in the form of a voice crack, as if this weren’t embarrassing enough. At this point Steve was barely keeping it together, he had actual tears coming outta his eyes and went bright red in the face tryin’ to stop himsen laughing, in front of me y/n furrowed her eyebrows and did look genuinely concerned for my mental state. She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just looked at me before she lifted her hand to my forehead and held it here for a minute, thank god Steve chose to leave the room before this or I’da never heard the end of it.

“You sure you’re okay, feelin’ a bit warm and ya actin weirder than usual Buck” okay quick say something before this gets even more embarrassing, first thing that pops into ya head in 3,2,1…

“Yeah I’m sure, think I ate somethin’ funky down at the pier, makin’ me real gassy”……why am I like this? Normally I can charm any girl of their feet but with y/n, I’ma bumbling mess.  She didn’t say a damn word, she just raised her eyebrows whilst a small smirk covered her face, before she turned and left me to have a very small breakdown underneath the dining table.

Meaning I let out a noise that sounded like a bear stubbing it’s toe in the middle of winter.

I thought my luck couldn’t get any worse, but nooo old lady luck decided today I needed a second helping, cause the second I did that Y/n walked back into the room. Brilliant. I was too busy stumbling over my words to processes what she was doin’, before I knew it she’d walked back to me and stood on her tip toes….then planted a small kiss on my cheek.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered Barnes”

And just like that, she left me with my jaw on the ground and heart beatin’ outta my chest, cause I’m starting to think that she was right. I’m sure as hell coming down with something, and I’m pretty sure it ain’t a regular ol’ bug…..

SOOO, if you got this far hope you enjoyed it, as always any feed back or constructive criticism is welcome, thank so much for reading and hope you have a great day/night/week.

lots of love

Rose xxx

[blueprint-han]

a musical encounter.

pairing: music major senior!han x music major junior!reader

genre: university (?? idk) au; fluff.

⇥ warnings: very terribly™ written by a person who has a -8.9 knowledge in music, also the singing parts are not very well described and this may seem incomplete because i’m trying to force teach myself to write short, but oh well 🤧 I wanna write a longer fic based on this in the future hhhhhhhh. me after writing this fic: wow i really clowned myself at “short fic” didn’t I 🤡 also not proofread so be mindful of errors and google autocorrect <//3

word count: 1.7 K 🤡

⇥ disclaimer: this writing does not aim to represent the activities of the real Han Jisung, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: blurb drabble 😭 (why can I never write sh0rt hmph >:( )

network tag: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz + @sunoo-luvs

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @missinghan :’’) (requests for this are closed now!)

!!; song y/n is imagined to sing here is ‘Freedom 90, the Pitch Perfect Version (of course, with pre added acappella). You may find the song here, if you wanna listen to it. hhhhhh this is based on my rusty research about music equipment (which may be wrong) so if this is not what it’s supposed to mean please go easy on me. 😂

↯ note: hhhhh okay so this one has no direct mention or relation to your url but I rather picked it up from your url ~vibes~ (since the only idea that was dropping into my head was making han go missing ufhurg) so I hope you don’t mind ! Hope you like it uwu 💓 Happy reading. <3 Again this will not compare to your writing queen, but I tried. 😔 ⇥ dawn.☀️

“Gosh, this is a music recording, not a date — what’s there to be scared about?” Your friend chided, setting up the mic and the filter as you panicked behind the glass. “You’re a music major! Isn’t this supposed to be what you do?”

“You’re saying that like you aren’t one, and you totally didn’t freak out two days ago, Sana.”

Sana huffed, shaking her head before moving to connect all the wires in place. “Yeah. but…” Her voice came out low when she crouched down to fix all the wires. “The nerves shake off eventually. You’ve nothing to worry. Did you hydrate?”

“I’ve been sipping on this water bottle for the past half an hour!” You sighed, walking inside the booth to stand next to your friend. “And what do you mean ‘shake off’ — you mean that time you ‘accidentally’ broke the headphones when you wear putting them on?” A bite of your lip to stifle your laugh, and Sana’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“Wow, you’re gonna-” She slapped your arm after getting up. “-bring that up even though we had an agreement that we’re gonna keep it a secret?”

“Okay, ouch that hurts!” You chortled. “There’s no one here though, I still kept my promise.”

“Yeah right, in a rented schoolroom studio, with cameras everywhere.”

“They still wouldn’t be able to hear me, right?” You pointed out, bursting into a fit of giggles, nervousness be damned when Sana pouted in defeat.

“Fine, now help me set this up. Come onnnnn…” Your friend shook your arm violently to kick you out of your laughter. You shook your head, crouching over again to fix the wires while your friend set up all the equipment outside the booth.

“All set?”

“Yeah…” You took a deep breath fixing your dress up a bit before reaching your hand out, fitting the headphones snug over your ears. Your eyes caught on something black lying on the tables, and you pointed it out.

“Whose headphones are those?” You pointed out, and Sana looked to the direction. “Eh,” she brushed it off. “Probably the person who’d received this room to record before, they’ll take care of it.” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, nodding. “Now come on, let’s start. We have to submit this tomorrow and I have a movie date, so it can’t get later than this.”

“Alright,” You chimed, clearing your throat once, twice before inhaling deeply. You were surely nervous before, but somehow singing always helped you disconnect from your surroundings, it was your escape — one of the main reason you’d chosen music technology in a heartbeat when you found out it was an option for your major.

“Ready? And, go.”

Sana hit a button, causing soft music to play through the headphones, a melody she’d carefully crafted over nights of 3 am coffee and many, many texts to you — most of them saying “I wanna sleeeepppppp waaaaa”. You’d obviously heard it before but you realised why it took her so long (nearly a week), because it was near perfection.

“Heaven knows I was just a young boy~”

The song went pretty smoothly on the most part, with Sana stopping you in between verses and and going over parts she wanted you to repeat, which you gladly complied. She was the senior, of course.

When it cam down to the last verse, about half an hour had passed — and you felt pretty good about it. your vocals were shining pretty well and blended with the music perfectly, which put you at ease.

“Okay, let’s finish this.” Sana said, focused on changing up the settings, before giving you a countdown, hitting play. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you waited for the beat drop to end, leading to your high note. That again. went pretty well, along with the rest of the song, finishing it up with an exhale.

When you removed the headphones and got out of the booth — you met the eyes of someone you did not expect to see standing there.

“O-Oh, hello Han-ssi.” You bowed down in gratitude, overly surprised of his presence.

Han was, just like Sana, your senior. He was one of the best students in your academy — of course, scoring the highest grade in all of his tests. Many would say otherwise because of his tsundere nature, but you could tell that he had a burning passion for music under those eyes. You’d listened to his tracks in various events your university hosted — and safe to say you were in love with his music. He had a way of making his tracks sound so… real? And natural — the kind that you wouldn’t get bored of no matter how many times you heard it.

Han bowed back and mumbled a silent “hello~” back to you before extending hia hand past you to grab the headphones placed on the table. Ohhh, so that’s why they were familiar. You’d noticed them hanging around his neck multiple times on campus.

Once he’d chatted with Sana and you for a bit (more Sana than you) and bowed before he left, you grabbed Sana’s arm before pulling her towards yourself.

“How long was he here for?” You whispered, a pout on your face.

“Umm, I think throughout the last verse?” Sana shrugged.

“What?” Your shoulders slumped. “Didn’t he come to pick up his headphones?”

“Are you seriously getting flustered right now?” Your friend narrowed her eyes playfully, making a teasing noise as she pushed at your shoulder.

“Ah,” You rolled your eyes. “Stop being so teasing, I’m just a little shy of anyone else hearing my singing.” You flapped your hand to brush her statement away — before she could say something or point it out how evidently flustered you’d grown of the fact that your role model — the Han Jisung — had listened to your music.

“Well, you’re a music major, kid. Get used to it.”

And with that, Sana bid her goodbye to you, helping you wrap up the place before hopping down the stairs, earphones plugged into her ears as she hummed a tune all the way.

You silently stood in front of the elevator, playing with the hem of your sleeves as you waited for it to arrive. Curse at your studios for being on the last floor of the building, waiting for the elevator seemed like an eternity.

You also didn’t notice the random person that stood beside you. it was getting late anyways, the sun was almost close to setting by the time you were done, so it was only obvious that the remaining students would go home.

“So, you sing?” A very familiar sounding voice echoed in your ears, and you flipped your head to the side, once again meeting the eyes of someone you didn’t expect to meet right now.

And of course, if was Han Jisung.

Now that you weren’t freaking out (but you were close to), you could focus on him a little more properly, and you immediately noticed the headphones hanging around his neck, again. He had a large black hoodie on, his hands were shoved into his pockets and his hair was neatly combed and parted. If you had to describe him in three words, it’d be “messy but clean”.

“Oh, h-hello again.” You bowed.

“Hi!” He reciprocated your actions, looking at you. “My question?”

“W-what?” Your eyes widened as you fiddled with the edge of your shirt.

“You sing?”

“I-” You started. “I do, I’ve loved singing since I was six.”

“Oh.” Jisung nodded, letting his words trail of for a second. “You sing really well. I listened to that last part of the song — really well done.”

Tensing up, a smile tugged at your lips. “R-really?”

“Yeah,” Jisung chuckled. “You have a pretty voice, Y/N. And that’s a genuine compliment.”

“O-oh.” You felt yourself grow bashful of his presence all of a sudden, your cheeks feeling hot as the heat spread to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You mumbled, diverting your gaze from your eyes as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s so sweet of you to say.”

“I mean it.” The boy said, frowning. at the sight in front of him — your eyes drifting from place to place and the way you shifted from one foot to other — you seemed to be uncomfortable, but in reality you just didn’t know how to respond. “You okay?”

“A-ah, I am, it’s just.” Moving your hands around, you tried to put your thoughts into words, only to fail miserably, before you sighed and collected yourself. “I just really like your music a lot, and I…” You trailed off, rubbing at your shoulder. “Kinda look up to you, so hearing you say that, it just means a lot to me. Thank you”

The boy standing beside you beamed like sunshine at your response, gently poking at your shoulder as he eyes you mischievously.

“You look up to me, huh?” He giggled when you stumbled over your words, bringing a hand to rake through his hair. “You’re adorable, I’ll tell you that too.”

“Oh my god stop, do you want me to combust?” You laughed, the nervousness laced throughout your statement.

“Okay fine,” Jisung nodded, attaching his headphones to the audio jack of his phone, rummaging through his playlist. “You wanna come to my studio once?”

“What?” Your head snapped in his direction, eyes widening as you took in what he said, excitement filling your veins? Han Jisung’s studio? Seeing him make music in front of your eyes? Is this a fucking dream?

“I mean, only if you want to, of course. I was just asking because you seemed like you’d like to see my music making process. You don’t have to say yes though.”

“Oh gosh, no, I’d love to!” You yelped, stopping him in his tracks. He smiled gently, nodding at you as he scratched his chin in thought.

“So, tomorrow morning is fine?” He looked at you with almost, almost pleading eyes, and you felt like your heart melted into a puddle on the spot. He was cute.

You smiled, shyly nodding as you quickly went through your schedule in your head. “I can work with that.”

“See you tomorrow morning then.” The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open as the both of you got in, giggling at each other.

You couldn’t wait for tomorrow morning, that was for sure.

*silently puts on clown hat and leaves*

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor atleast this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

[schrijverr]

And finally see what it means to be living

Eliot’s life, from his teen years to the disillusionment of the military through the soulless wetwork all the way to his team, seen through his connection to the song Fast Carby Tracy Chapman.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed any

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

Eliot remembered being a teen, lying on the grass in the middle of the night, having snuck out with a radio with as excuse to his father that he was with a lady friend. That was if he even cared to ask, which was never the case, but just to be safe.

He remembered one night in particular, the one that made him come back out there with the radio each night, hoping they would play the song he wished to hear most as he lay under the galaxy, wishing he was far away, among the stars.

It had been a bright night with clear skies, a full moon and a million stars in the sky. He was lying on his blanket, some radio station played that he tuned out most of the time. Then the radio announcer had said: “Next up is Fast Carby Tracy Chapman, gotta warn y’all it’s one for the heart.” And somehow it had gotten his attention and he’d listened.

He’d listened, yet somehow he’d felt heard.

Right there on the radio had been someone, who was stuck in a town as well, with a shit father, who wanted nothing more than to live and get out.

While he had nobody but himself to get him out of there, the song gave him hope. He hadn’t heard the full lyrics, but enough to hit home. The radio announcer had been right when he’d said it was one for the heart.

You got a fast car And I got a plan to get us out of here I been working at the convenience store Managed to save just a little bit of money We won't have to drive too far Just 'cross the border and into the city You and I can both get jobs And finally see what it means to be living

He found himself humming the song, singing the second verse under his breath the next day, letting the feeling of the song build up in his chest and carry him through the day as plans of getting away swirled in his mind.

Even now he knew that his best out was either a sports scholarship or the military and he wasn’t a college man. He also knew that his father would never let him join, so he’d have to wait until he was eighteen before flying away.

While he might not have a fast car, he and a few of his buddies had boosted one often enough that he could find one when the time came, he just had to get there first. Just until he was eighteen, then he was out of there and far away, for now he would just work at the hardware store and save the money to get out of here.

Anxiously, he had waited until he could sneak out again after that night, tuning into the same radio station, hoping it would be played again.

They didn’t play the song the first night, nor the one after that, but the third night they did. He was sitting next to the radio, armed with a tape recorder that he smashed on the moment the announcer introduced the song.

Afterwards, he played the song so often on his Walkman that the tape wore down until he had to record it onto a new one.

The late nights under the stars, alone with his dreams, stayed. He still played the radio on the same station that had first played Fast Car, but he often found himself listening to the tape, repeating it until he had enough peace to rest.

His mind got stuck on the first part of the song after a while:

You got a fast car I want a ticket to anywhere Maybe we make a deal Maybe together we can get somewhere Any place is better Starting from zero got nothing to lose Maybe we'll make something But me myself I got nothing to prove

He repeated the words to himself, alone in his room or in the safety in his mind whenever the world got too much. Well, his dad got too much.

Then he would just grit his teeth and tell himself that he had nothing to prove and that any place would be better, he just had to go somewhere. Didn’t matter that he started at zero, just like her, he would live.

Just a year more then he’d be eighteen.

Eliot had never belonged in that small stuffy town, no matter how well he played his part. He was never that into football or the girls at the school. He went through the motions, but wasn’t built for settling down, for taking over the store and staying there forever.

For a while he thought that Aimee got that, that she got him and that they would achieve the dream together and get away from the town where everyone knew everyone and the only good thing were the horses.

She was also done with some of the people at school, though she went to church and she loved the horses and maybe he should have thought more about it when he mentioned leaving and she stayed quiet, but he wanted to get out so bad that he couldn't imagine anyone wanting to stay.

So, slowly he started to picture them, in a car – maybe even one he’d bought – driving on the highway, the town disappearing the rear view mirror as they went off to see what it meant to be living.

It was a dream that got crushed.

Aimee wanted him to stay, tried to talk of the horses and what they could built and he’d just listened dumbly and nodded.

Faintly he heard himself making her a promise about coming back then and giving her the ring he’d bought for her birthday, hoping to make it real in a church that was not run by the same Father he’d been forced to confess his sins to since he was a boy.

And he wondered how he had ended up there when he had always told her about his dream of being far away.

But then again, maybe he hadn’t told her. Maybe to her, he was complaining about the town just like she did, like everyone did. Maybe in her mind she had built a future like he had, just on a different set, cast in different rolls. Maybe neither had said enough.

He snuck out again that night and laid in the field, his field. He lay on the wet grass and stared at the constellations he knew so well, wondering why the endless sky suddenly seemed less a place of escape and just another facet of his stupid town where everyone but him seemed to want to stay.

His mind was just not comprehending how anyone couldn't see there was so much more than what was around them. That there was more than church on Sunday, the footballs games, the potlucks or the gossip that had been recycled a thousand times.

On the tape Tracy Chapman sang:

You got a fast car But is it fast enough so we can fly away We gotta make a decision We leave tonight or live and die this way

He’d heard the lyrics a million times, but that night it was those lyrics that hit him in the heart, more than it usually did.

Aimee was a fool. He had a fast car, he could get out, fly away, just a few more days and he’d be gone. If she didn’t want to come that was her decision and that was fine, but it didn’t have to be Eliot’s. He wouldn’t remain here.

He would not.

‘Weleave tonight or live and die this way’ that’s what Tracy sung and he’d already known on that night when he’d first heard the song that he would be driving off alone. He had tricked himself into thinking Aimee would come, but there had never been a we. Not for Eliot.

So on the night of his eighteenth birthday, he told his dad he was enlisting and fought with him, trying not to think of the lyrics ‘somebody’s got to take care of him,’ because even Tracy had seen she’d deserved better.

Still, even after he packed the last of his stuff, he swung by Aimee, asking her again, more urgent, more permanent, before promising he’d back for her. In case she needed him or if she’d changed her mind.

Then he was gone, off into the sunset. And as he tore down the highway, a tune blasted out of the radio.

I remember we were driving driving in your car The speed so fast I felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder And I had a feeling that I belonged And I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

And his foot on the gas peddle was intoxicating. He was going so fast that it was dangerous, but he didn’t care. He was riding to his future, to far off places and adventures. He was going to be someone.

That idea lasted approximately the ten weeks it took to train them, before shipping them out to an active war zone.

Though it had been chipped at relentlessly before already. Quite hard to be a someone in a cohesive unit. Not that it mattered to Eliot, he had a place to belong now, while his dream hadn’t matched Tracy’s, he was glad she had gotten him to this, with his brother’s in arms, even through all the horrors.

Yet, despite all she’d done for him, he forgot her and Fast Car.

There was not much room to listen to your own music and he was already a country hick, so he didn’t really need to amplify that more with a country music station.

He was fine fitting in the way he did. He wrote to Aimee, even if it was less and less, letters filled with empty promises made out of a sense of obligation to her and home. He didn’t speak to his father, nor his siblings. He stayed far away from everyone as his hands colored a dark red on foreign soil.

His bright and promising military career soon turned into a promotion to black ops where he didn’t exist to the government unless he came back.

The color of his hands didn’t change, it just got more pigmented as it dripped until wetwork was just a step to a better future. He had already killed so many people, getting paid almost nothing for a government that didn’t care. Why not do it for more money?

So, he had emptied his soul, filled it with money he didn’t truly need and more enemies around him, hoping it would be enough.

He had disappeared completely.

Eliot Spencer was no more, not really.

The man might still walk the earth, but anyone who met him didn’t live to tell the tale, so friendship was hard to come by. Maybe that’s why Moreau was such a welcome change in his life. There was a man, who might be powerful, but who would never have enough security against Eliot, smiling at him and offering him friendship – with money and a bit of violence thrown in – like Eliot was just another being he could own.

And by god did Eliot want to be owned. He once more longed to belong like he had done in the army, but he no longer was innocent enough for the army, which was an ironic sentiment that was true enough to hurt.

He had walked through pools of blood he had made, hoping no one would follow the bloody footsteps he left behind, but here there were others, who had walked through the same red sea as he had and who found each other under Moreau.

It was brutal work, soulless too. It was nothing more than destruction in exchange for power that was a fire with no ash left behind, just bare rock where nothing grew.

And Eliot was home.

Later, in a future he didn’t know he could have, when feeling returned to his limbs and he saw how his pools of blood had turned into seas had turned into floods and it was too late to turn back. Only then would he look back and hate himself, but not now.

Now Eliot was on top of the world. Sitting at the side of the most feared and most powerful of the underbelly of the underbelly, while remaining in an bright spotlight was the best place to be. He was untouchable and unfeeling.

He had always been weak for belonging, for seeing the world and making someone of himself and Moreau was the best salesman there was. He sold Eliot a unfulfilled dream with labor for Moreau as payment without the hitter every realizing.

So he went through the motions. He got more skills, he learned new things. He stopped enjoying life, though he would only later come to know that.

Eliot Spencer had disappeared under Moreau and not just from the records. He was no longer the boythat had driven out of a small town in Oklahoma to sign up for the army in the hope of being more than his neighbor.

Though, he supposed he had his dream. In a way. Here he was, more traveled than he could have ever hoped for with experiences so far from the norm that no one from his class could have ever matched his tales.

He had become what he had always dreamed to be, so why did he feel so hollow?

The answer came to him in the most horrific way he could imagine. He’d just pulled the trigger, he kept on doing it like he was supposed to but oh god- he’d done that. He killed them and he hadn’t even given them the time to beg, to spark humanity in his heart, because his heart had died long ago.

He needed to get out.

He needed to get far away from there.

From Moreau.

Why it had to be so extreme before he could finally see, he didn’t know. But it had. It had to get terrible, unforgivable. He had to see that the man he had been and wanted to be, was dead and that he was a devil with no chance at salvation.

As a hollow shell he’d ran. For a long time he had wondered if it was worth it to keep running, but slowly the people who chased him dwindled as less and less returned, until he knew he had been given a second chance. A chance to make it right.

It was Toby, who hammered in that lesson. The man might not have knownEliot’s complete tale, but he was familiar with the haunted look in his eyes, so he took Eliot under his wing and showed him how his hands were made for more than violence.

Eliot laid his guns down there and took up a knife, vowing to only fight where he could get hit in return, level the playing field. He’d never liked the power that came with a gun and now he wouldn't pick one up again to be tempted by that voice.

He wouldn't be that man anymore. He refused. He would stay in Toby’s kitchen for now, figure out a plan that would carry him forwards as a better person. Not good, just better.

So it came to be that, one night, when he was alone in the kitchen, slicing up some onions for the prep for the next day, while tune played on the radio.

At first he hadn’t even recognized it, but still he listenedclosely, now scoffing at some of the lyrics, until one of the last verses played.

You got a fast car And I got a job that pays all our bills You stay out drinking late at the bar See more of your friends than you do of your kids I'd always hoped for better Thought maybe together you and me would find it I got no plans I ain't going nowhere So take your fast car and keep on driving

How ironic, he thought. He had always been so focused on the start of the song, on the getting out and leaving everything behind that he had never fully listened to the ending. To the fact that Tracy never got the ending she’d wanted.

He’d been stupid to think he’d ever get a happy ending. He’d been far less deserving off it and fate was never kind. He always prided himself on knowing better, but he’d been more foolish than anyone in his class.

‘I’d always hoped for better.’

And by god, he had. He had wanted so much, dreamed so big and set goals so unobtainable that he would always have keep on climbing.

So maybe he had never been Tracy, maybe he’d been the dick that had promised her the world and then never delivered. He thought of Aimee and how he had never been a settler, but someone that kept on disappointing and leaving.

The far car had not always been a car in his life, but he had always been on the road, always had been going somewhere, or maybe he’d just been running away.

Maybe now he had stopped running? Though, if he hadn’t been running, he’d been hiding. Here in Toby’s kitchen he had made a little haven away from everyone that had hurt him and that he had hurt. And he didn’t deserve that. Not after what he did.

Eliot made a vow to himself that night, listening to Fast Carin the back of a restaurant, both reminiscent and nothing like when he had first heard it. He would leave there and face the world, never kill again, just survive and try to do better.

He could at least try to do better.

So, he said goodbye to Toby and went off into the world. Toby wouldn’t go anywhere, but Eliot had to. He would remember Toby, however, carry him with him whenever he ate a new dish or went on a grift as a cook. It was a good time, one of the best he’d had since the army, maybe even since Aimee.

Still, he didn’t look back, not to her or Toby. He had things to do, people to help, as well as himself a bit. All of his funds from working from Moreau had disappeared and he needed to survive if he wanted to repent.

Somehow that road led him to a prick named Nate Ford and a job to get the plans of a plane back. It led him to Hardison, a nerd he liked more than he wanted to admit, and Parker, who made him smile with her antics as well as give him heart problems. It led him to Sophie, who had so many masks that he could relate to her and feel safe in his nobody-ness.

It led him to a team, more than a team really. After a while it reminded him of the army with all his brothers, family was closer, but he had no reference for family, except them.

Even Aimee told him they were, because he’d come back to help her when she needed him and part of him felt lighter on that promise fulfilled. It felt like a start. Not a new start, because it would never be fair to everyone he’d hurt to erase those sins like that, but it felt like he had a bucket and soap and the color of his hands might fade to a light pink one day.

And Eliot worked.

He pushed himself into more grifting, learned a bit of hacking, scaled building hanging from a tiny rope and learned to think of more than just strategic exits and weaknesses in physique. He completed the jobs they were hired to do and he helped people.

What he had dreamed off when he had first joined the army, he found at Leverage. He found family, a home, a sense of duty and belonging. He was changing the world for the better.

It was amazing and more than he had ever hoped for himself, even on those nights alone with the radio, he couldn't have hoped it would end like this. He was someone. He practically had his own brewpub and a recent memory he could be proud off.

And he was proud as he reminisced alone in the kitchen of their office/apartment, where he was preparing some stuff for dinner for the next day. It was late and once this was done and in the fridge, he was done for today, but it would take a few more minutes.

Impulsively he put on the song on the speakers like Hardison had showed him. He hadn’t listen again since Toby, when he blamed himself and found himself on the other end of the song, but maybe now it would be different.

You got a fast car And we go cruising to entertain ourselves You still ain't got a job And I work in a market as a checkout girl I know things will get better You'll find work and I'll get promoted We'll move out of the shelter Buy a big house and live in the suburbs

Before he had never related to her dreams, just her drive to get away and make something of herself, but he could understand now. If he ever got too old for his job, then he wouldn't mind living the way he was now, with Hardison and Parker in the brewpub, making his own menu’s, serving people food.

He knew that for Tracy, she had to tell someone to leave, before she could make a move to get there. Still, he liked the verse now more than before. It spoke of a hope, of a view of the future and a certainty about the destination.

The lyrics he had scoffed at when he had just left Moreau, were dear to him now. ‘I know things will get better,’ it was stupid, but maybe- maybe Eliot could believe in that too now.

Without thinking, he put the song on repeat, before gathering the supplies for his marinade as he danced a bit around in the kitchen. It wasn’t as if there was anyone to catch him.

So, he remembered the stupid boy he had been, the heartless man who had forgotten and guy he was becoming now. Until the end of the song:

You got a fast car But is it fast enough so you can fly away You gotta make a decision You leave tonight or live and die this way

And it wasn’t the way the lyric was intended to land and Eliot’s life had went down a way different road than Tracy’s, but those lyrics where him.

He had a thousand ways to leave and had left a thousand more. He could fly away if he wanted, but it was in the fact that he had run that he had found strength. He was no longer a faceless soldier in the army or Moreau’s attack dog. He was Eliot Spencer and he was alive.

There had been a million moments when he could have made a different decision, but he hadn’t and even when it seemed he had been running away all his life, maybe he’d just been running towards this instead.

‘Leave tonight or live and die this way.’

Huh, he wouldn't mind dying for these people, he wouldn't mind living for these people. He was content to be and never leave. All those times he’d snuck out and dreamed, he had never dreamed here, but he was someone and he had found a place to belong.

So he made the decision and stayed. Till his dying day and all that.

~~

A/N:

I love Christian Kane’s cover of Fast Car so much and I played in on repeat while writing this. The original version of the song also still has a soft place in my heart though.

((the song is not in order and some parts are missing, but you know, you don’t always learn a song in the right order and other parts speak to you at different times))