#Medication from a different plane of Reality
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Vlad has Pit Rage
So, we all know the idea of Pit Rage. When you are submerged in a Lazarus Pit, you will become insanely mad for a while, and in the Fanon it is permanent.
Well, in Danny Phantom we do know of one other person who was infused with Ectoplasm (aka Lazarus), who had a personality change after his accident, who had years to build up his hatred, who never got the help he needed.
Vald. It's Vlad. Due to a fuckup when making the Proto-Portal, Vlad was blasted with Corrupted Ectoplasm rather than the Pure Stuff, which gave him Pit Rage.
Pit Rage is basically a Chronic Condition, and once Vlad figures out that he needs help while on his whole Redemption Arc (read A Glitch In Time, I beg you), he goes to the Far Frozen to seek their help.
He gets some Medication that helps suppress the Pit Rage, and goes on with his journey of Redemption.
Then, one day while he is wandering through Gotham, he meets a Kid who is seriously I'll. Like, he's almost as Bad as Vlad himself was before he got the Medication he needed!
So, he gets some of his Emergency Medication and has the kid take some. Thankfully it helps him calm down and gets him to stop Shooting Vlad. (He jad been unloading clip after clip into Vlad until he finally calmed down)
Now he needs to take this Kid to Frostbite so he can get his own source of Medication, and the easiest way is to just kidnap him. Not like he was being watched at all, honestly people need to take better care of their Kids.
...
Batman is panicking.
Some Vampire guy just fed Jason some weird drugs that made him calm down significantly and them kidnapped him through a Glowing Green Portal.
Was his son just Drugged and Kidnapped?
#Dp x dc#Dpxdc#Dc x dp#Dcxdp#Danny phantom#Dc#Dcu#Batman#Jason Todd#Red Hood#Vlad masters#Vlad plasmius#Pit Rage#Pit Rage is a chronic illness#It doesn't have a cure but it does have a treatment#Now Vlad has to find a way to get this kid a constant supply of Pit Medication#Medication from a different plane of Reality#This is gonna be annoying#Might have to ask Hermes for help setting they up#Oh yeah by the way Vlad is the Co-King of the Realms alongside Danny#He did help out in the fight and he did finally calm down and redeme himself so Danny is happy to hoist half the workload onto him#Only people who read the tags will know this#Mwuahahaha
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The Nightmare Factory
an Eddie Munson x Reader series
The Fabric of Moonbeams
Masterlist
18+Only for mature themes, mention of sleep disorders and sleeping medication, longing, afab!reader, astral travel, horror icons. wc: 4.2.
a/n: there are some mind-bending moments in here, along with typical nightmare!eddie silliness. I initially thought I'd just write a very simple blurb series about the different ways Eddie appeared to reader to try and scare them. Now that this romance is starting to flesh out, I feel like we have much more to explore, so this will not end on Halloween, as I had originally planned. I have a very cool apocalyptic dream planned for the next chapter, where reader and Eddie spend a few days together (enemies to lovers because reader does not recognize him at first), but I wanted this to be something fun for spooky season.
Eddie got demoted to Ominous Thuds & Ghostly Whispers status after the whole Headless Horseman debacle. Not because Steve or Saul narced on him, but because the eye in the nightmare sky sees everything.
He tried tapping the morse code that Wayne taught him on your bedroom wall one night, but only succeeded in making you sleep upright in the chair in your living room with all of the lights on. You had dark circles under your eyes the next day, and almost dozed off at your keyboard.
You spent a lot of time looking at the sketch you had done of him, and the description of the headless horseman dream that you remembered with fascinating clarity. You could close your eyes and smell the soap and leather of his skin now, and you could see the way his mouth moved when he spoke to you. He knew your name, and you felt like you knew him.
You found a book at the library called, “My boyfriend, My Nightmare” about a woman who believed she was in a relationship with a man in her dreams for years. No one believed her, of course, and she was diagnosed with a particular type of rare disorder that had her on such heavy sleeping medication that it was impossible to remember her dreams, if she even had them at all.
You sank down on a soft chair and almost read the entire thing in one sitting. According to this woman, there is a place called The Nightmare Factory where your nightmares punch a clock and take lunch breaks together and collect a paycheck. Apparently, it sits on a separate plane of existence, and you go there when you sleep. Nightmares can exist during waking hours as well, the author said, and you sat up straight to read that paragraph.
“The membrane that keeps our worlds apart begins to dissolve when you are able to perceive the nightmares, when you begin to understand that there is no true distinction between reality and dreams.”
“If you can imagine it, it exists somewhere in possibility,” the author continued. “The Nightmare Factory workers are a form of entertainment to save us from the true horrors of human existence.”
What ever happened to the woman? Did she ever get to be with the man she fell in love with in her nightmares? You skipped to the last chapter, and skimmed a few pages until you found what you were looking for.
Her final words were very vague, but she admitted to going off of her prescribed sleeping medication, which made her have insomnia for a week, but then she started to dream again.
“I know that no one will believe me, and that’s fine, I did not write this to convince anyone. I’m having it published through a private company to help those who might find themselves in a similar situation.
By the time you read this, I will be gone.
The physical particles of my body have a hard time assimilating when I return from dreams now, and one day soon, I will stay there with him and not return through the secret door. I’m not sure if I will ever be able to get back to this astral plane as anything more than a visitor, so please, if you are able to cross over, find me.”
You checked the clock on the wall, knowing you should head home, and then you found a few more books to take with you. One was a manual on how to decipher your dreams, and the other was another memoir, though not as detailed, that someone had written about moving through the dream world with your physical body.
That’s impossible, you mused to yourself.
But still, some strange blossom of hope in your gut moved you to tuck it under your arm.
Meanwhile, Eddie flirted his way into the 7am Unexplained Voices & Creaking Stairs class by offering to service the teacher’s car for free. She was a ghostly apparition who wore glasses and a pair of gloves to give students a hint to her presence. She finally accepted after some hesitation, knowing full well that there was a waitlist.
Anyway, her ghostmobile was not only serviced, but detailed, and there Eddie was, in the front row, bouncing his knee, eager to learn anything and everything he could.
His band played a show at the Hideout that night. The Hideout in Eddie’s dimension was a place where a lot of Nightmare Factory workers went after their shifts, so it often looked like the bar scene from Star Wars, but with ghouls. The factory was the biggest employer for a thirty mile radius, and everyone who grew up in Hawkinsville had worked there at least once in their life.
It had been difficult when Eddie and Wayne first moved there when he was young. Eddie was what they called “a normie”, meaning he was not born into the nightmare life. He hadn’t been raised by evil clowns or wolves or demons who walked on goat legs. He’d picked up shapeshifting pretty fast though, and he’d learned to make his eyes go completely black whenever he wanted to by the time he was ten.
There were more than four drunks at the place that night, Eddie counted at least six, and then there were a few normies at a table, but he didn’t recognize them. The bartender had a beer ready for him and slid it to the end of the bar before giving him a “thumbs up” motion. Corroded Coffin did not get paid by the venue to play on Tuesday nights, so the beer was always on the house. They had a tip jar at the edge of the stage that usually only had a couple bucks in it by the end of the evening, or a sprinkle of loose change.
They were halfway through the set when Eddie looked out into the crowd and saw you.
He blinked hard, squeezing his eyes shut for a beat, but when he opened them again, he saw that it was really you—standing there, staring back at him, plain as day.
Sure, the room was dark and filled with smoke, but there seemed to be some type of luminescence around you.
Eddie cleared his throat into the mic and wiped his hair off his sweaty forehead, waiting to make sure to make sure you weren’t a mirage for the thirsty man that he was. Some shrill feedback sounded through the speakers, and he mumbled an apology to the crowd.
You lifted your hand up slowly to wave at him, and you mouthed a little, “hi,” as a smile twitched across your lips.
But this time, it was Eddie who woke up.
He was back in his own bed, gasping for air, wanting to cry, wanting to return, needing to know how you had made it into his dream.
You were looking for him now. Somewhere, behind the scenes of time and space, an invisible membrane was getting thinner.
—------
“Are you coming or what?” Your friend Ellie turned to see that you had stopped short at the entrance to the Haunted House attraction you were about to enter. You’d already paid, and had your hand stamped, but all of a sudden you wanted to be back in your bed, reading.
You loved Halloween, but you weren’t a huge fan of jump scares, unless they were coming from that guy you kept dreaming about, the one named Eddie.
You wrote his name down in cursive and blocked letters all over the inside of your notebook, wanting to press it into the wrinkles of your brain. It had been weeks since you last saw him, and every night you hit the pillow, you were hopeful.
“I’m coming,” you jogged a bit to catch up, listening to the evil, mechanical cackling and high-pitched screams coming from inside.
You caught up to her and stayed close. There were strobe lights inside and menacing figures loomed in the narrow hallway before you turned a corner into a dining room full of people with decapitated heads. A few scare actors jumped out to lurch at you from dark corners while thunderous organ music played.
After the next room, there was a shuffle of people as one of the animatronic spiders dropped down from the ceiling, and one of the scare actors with a pig mask blocked your path right when the hallway split, so you lost Ellie, and all of a sudden, you were alone.
You spun in a circle and called Ellie’s name.
Surely you’d still be able to hear the sounds from the haunt? But everything was quiet, the crowd was gone, and the noises from earlier were muffled, as if coming from far away.
Panic rose in your throat as you felt along the wall for a light switch or a door. You stumbled around a black, velvet curtain and caught sight of the glowing EXIT sign with a rush of relief.
“Ellie? Anybody?” You eyes were having a hard time adjusting to the inky darkness, but the illumination from the sign gave you hope
This was fine, you’d wait for the other’s outside and tell them you had to duck out because you weren’t feeling well, which was not a complete lie.
Beyond the door were aged, wooden stairs that went down. A single light bulb dangled from the ceiling to offer a weak, ocre glow. You didn’t remember climbing stairs to get into the building, but you must’ve been mistaken.
You hurried down the steps, hearing the door slam shut behind you with unexpected force, enough to shake the walls.
Something didn’t feel right; the further you went down on the creaking steps, the darker and danker it seemed to get. There was a sudden heat emanating and you could make out some soft rattling and hissing sounds.
By the time you realized you’d gone down into a sealed basement, it was too late.
It wasn’t just a basement, though—it was a…boiler room?
There were metal tanks producing steam mounted with temperature gauges, and you couldn’t see to the other side of the space because they were massive.
“Hello?” You took a tentative step forward, looking around the concrete walls for some type of door to get out of the building. Your heart was in your throat, and your breathing was getting rapid as your eyes jerked from side to side like a scared rabbit.
You wrapped your arms around yourself. “Can anyone hear me? I got turned around and I’d like to leave now.”
There came a high pitched scraping then, like nails on a chalkboard, and it was so shrill, you had to cover your ears.
“I can hear you just fine,” a deep, gravely voice chuckled from somewhere to your right.
Your attention snapped in that direction. Instinct was telling you to start backing up, to get further away, to go bolt up the stairs, but that’s not what you did—you just froze there.
It wasn’t long before you spotted a pair of glowing eyes peering at you from between two of the pipes, against the far wall.
There was a person standing there.
It had to be one of the scare actors, down there on their break, or maybe this was a part of the haunt? But where was everyone else? And why was there a huge, poorly lit boiler room in the basement of that old house?
“I’ve been waiting for you,” he spoke in an evil sneer, like a villain in a cartoon.
“This isn’t funny,” you shouted. “I just want to get out of here, please.”
He gave another diabolical cackle, and then there was the sound of nails on a chalkboard again.
The man in the basement with you stepped into view with a flourish, brandishing the long, metal daggers on his hand, flexing each finger for you to see each one individually; the tips were sharp and the blades caught the light. He had on an old, brown fedora, a green and red sweater, and his skin was covered in scar tissue from severe burns.
You were down in that boiler room with Freddy Krueger.
The scream you let out as he charged toward you might’ve cracked fissures in the concrete.
You spun on your heel—
—and landed face first into the body of the person that had been standing behind you. You felt the ragged, torn nature of a shirt under your cheek as whoever it was had enormous height, and then you pushed back and looked up in time to see a hockey mask with black eyes staring down at you, expressionless. His shoulders were broad and his body massive. Out to the side, he brandished a gleaming machete that was the length of your arm.
“Hi baby, get behind me!” The person in the Jason Voorhees mask said, sounding slightly echoed and muffled. The look he had was the same as in the movies, but this one had curly, almost frizzy dark hair that was long past his shoulders.
That voice…it was Eddie.
It was your Eddie.
You stammered a partial question, but then you were already moving, letting his arm guide you around so that his body acted as a shield from Freddy who was cackling and swiping his finger knives around; you could hear the sharp whistle of air against the metal.
You held on to the hips of Voorhees Eddie from behind and peeked under his raised arm to look at Freddy. This Eddie in front of you was tall and massive, much more so than you remembered from the last dream you had.
“What the hell are you doing here, maggot?” The Freddy Krueger guy growled, saliva dripping from his yellow teeth as his pocked skin stretched over his cheeks like curdled milk.
“Don’t worry about it, Jerry,” Eddie growled with disdain, throwing his machete into the other hand with deft precision. It twirled in the air and he caught it by the handle. “This one is mine.”
“Oh, really?” The guy who looked like Freddy suddenly had a normal voice again, and his shoulders relaxed, dropping his hands to his sides. “I didn’t know, wow man, I’m sorry. Did I get the schedules mixed up?”
Voorhees Eddie relaxed too, dropping his free hand down to hold your hip, making sure you were still there. “No, you’re good,” Eddie’s voice was light now, soft, even. “I’m just filling in for Alex, he’s on vacation for a few days.”
“Paid leave?” Freddy/Jerry asked. You were trying to match his face with the voice coming out, but it wasn’t working.
“I think so,” Eddie nodded once.
“Must be nice to have seniority,” Jerry put his knives hand on his hip and scratched under his hat with the other. “Okay well, I’m going to head over to the next job. See ya, Munson.”
And with that, a black space the size of a door opened behind Jerry and he stepped through it. The door disappeared, and so did he.
“Eddie?” You said his name over the hiss of the boilers as he turned to you. You could see the realistically gray, rotting flesh of his Voorhees skin under his mask. “What are you doing in a boiler room looking like Jason Voorhees?”
“Workin’,” he smiled and dropped the machete to the concrete with a clang to be able to snake his arms around you so that his fingers clasped at your lower back. “I’ve been missing you.”
His new height was throwing you off as you tilted your head back to look up at him.
“I recognized your voice this time,” you smiled, proud of yourself.
He lowered his head to touch the mask to your forehead. “I didn’t mean to disappear on you. It took me a while to be able to have physical form again, to be able to see you like this.”
“It’s okay, I know,” you slid your hands up the torn clothing over his broad chest.
“You know?” He pulled back, searching your face.
“I’ve been reading this book, about where you work,” you wet your lips. “That Nightmare Factory place. I’ve been trying to figure out…how to see you more often.”
Eddie’s heart jumped. He put his hand over yours on his chest and held it there, and you could see that even as Jason Voorhees, he still wore his signature metal rings. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course,” you got a bit bashful and looked down. “I want to…get to know you better.”
“I saw you the other night in my dream,” he rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand.
You stared up into his eye sockets of his mask, and your face lit up. “That was cool, wasn’t it? I couldn’t believe I found you. There is a sort of meditation in the book that I did about a thousand times, and it was only for a second. I think it’s a type of astral projection. You looked really good on stage.”
Eddie tucked his chin almost bashfully, moving his hand to interlace his fingers with yours. “You thought I looked good?”
Eddie had been learning too. Learning new skills to come to you in your nightmares, but also learning about a rare case where a nightmare worker crossed into your dimension and stayed there. They were never heard from again, and some say they didn’t survive the crossover and their particles exploded into the ether, but Eddie chose to believe that was a lie to keep people from trying.
Suddenly, there was a banging sound, muffled and far away, but you could feel it thudding in your chest. You checked around the room, thinking it was noise from one of the pipes, but Eddie dropped your hand and squeezed your arm, checking his digital wrist watch with a sigh like he usually did when he was about to make his exit.
Back at the factory, someone was banging their fist against the transportation door, shouting for Eddie. He tightened the muscles in his jaw, frustrated that there never seemed to be enough time. It sounded a whole lot like Kevin.
He had to figure something out soon, before his heart exploded.
“Are you in trouble again?” Now that you knew a bit more about what he did, you feared he might get penalized, and you wouldn’t lay eyes on him for another month. The pounding continued intermittedly, and you faintly heard someone call out Eddie’s name.
“No, not this time, sweetheart,” Eddie stretched, puffing his chest out a bit, and then bent forward to put the mouth of the mask on your forehead. You could feel his warm breath on your skin there. “But my shift is over. I have to get back before my timer goes off.”
“Before your timer goes off? Sounds like you’re in a microwave.”
“Well,” he tipped his head to the side, thoughtfully. “The technology is similar, I suppose, but yeah, I hate to leave you like this.”
You hugged Eddie Voorhees as hard as you could and spoke into his chest. “Maybe next time, I’ll find you first.”
The distant banging got louder, more persistent.
He bent down to grab the machete, pushed a button on his watch, and the same square, black opening in the air appeared.
There was a second there when you considered just running and jumping through his door, but then you remembered a part in the book when it mentioned how that type of jarring dimensional travel could give Dreamers what scuba divers called “the bends” from the dramatic change in pressure.
You were about to tell him you’d miss him, or goodbye, or something else, but then, in a blink, you were jolted back to your senses—
—you were back in the hallway of the haunt right after the spider had dropped from the ceiling.
Wait a minute. How had that happened?
You were at a dead halt, stopping the flow of people traffic as you looked down at your hands and over at Ellie who had turned around to motion you to keep moving as another scare actor dressed like a deranged doctor covered in blood jumped from the corner.
When you got home, you rushed to your desk to open the book, and flipped to the chapter called “The fabric of moonbeams”. It talked about “dream pockets” that occurred like daydreams when you were linked to someone. The author didn’t know exactly how to explain it, but she suspected it had something to do with sudden surges of adrenaline that caused a dimensional shift, especially if you had a connection to someone at the factory.
You sketched out Eddie again that night, this time, it was what you remembered from when you’d visited him for a few seconds at The Hideout. Flanked by his bandmates, he was strumming the strings on his guitar, looking down with one knee bent out and his hair hanging down.
You wanted to recapture the scene as realistically as possible so that you could study it to prepare for the next time you tried to visit him. Next time, maybe you'd step into his world and not his dream.
Maybe next time, he’d kiss you again.
----
Happy Halloween weekend to all of you who are enjoying this series, thank you for reading 🧡
#Eddie Munson#Eddie Munson series#The Nightmare Factory#nightmare!eddie#Halloween fic#Eddie Munson fic#Eddie Munson fluff#Eddie x afab reader#Eddie munson x reader
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on the frontline (III), major john egan
pairing: major john egan x major nessa dixon
content: the reality of war catches up with nessa.
warning: mentions of getting sick, blood, war
tag list: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ihe4rtisa @ineedafictionalman @lovebyceleste @alliewassobonum
“Make some room, boys,” Nessa said with an unusual sense of glee as she walked toward the group of pilots on standby. The sun beamed against her face, the breeze kissed the exposed skin of her neck, and her body was on fire beneath her flightwear, but she was ready. From behind her dark sunglasses, she saw John’s eyebrow raise and Gale look at her quizzically. “Colonel said I’m up with Egan. Medical purposes. I’m with you next, Cleven.”
She peeled her backpack off her shoulders and threw it at their feet. “You mind taking that up for me?” The majors looked at each other, but nonetheless, John grabbed her backpack and slung it over his shoulder. His eyes raked her figure as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pants.
Her outfit was just slightly different than what she wore on a day-to-day basis. Rather than her shirt and pants being separate, they were together. A green jumpsuit covered her body, save for the few buttons she left undone He saw a gold necklace wrapped around her neck with a pendant that sat at the valley of her breasts. On top of that were the dog tags she refused to take off.
Across her chest and shoulders were the series of accolades, pins, and lapels she’d been rewarded for her years of service. In her mouth was a piece of gum that she chewed on violently. She was nervous, John noted. And it didn’t go unnoticed by him. But, she kept a smile on her face and kept her upbeat attitude the best she could. If only she knew how quickly it would falter.
“I shouldn’t be surprised that the Colonel put you on his craft,” Gale chuckled, guiding her to the belly of the plane. His teasing didn’t fall on deaf ears. Instead of replying, she chose to send him a wink. John, who’d entered first, held his hand out to her which she took. His hands were strong, calloused, and warm.
Nessa grunted as she used Gale’s hands as a boost, then was yanked onto the aircraft. She was stabilized by John’s hands; one on her back and the other on her hip, dangerously close to her bottom. “You good?” he asked her. Nessa didn’t meet his eyes but nodded. “All good.”
“See you in the air, B,” Gale nodded at the pair and sauntered off to his aircraft to prepare for takeoff. John sighed lowly and looked around the aircraft, wondering where to start. A flight nurse was new to him, just as he assumed it must have been new to her.
“Alright, here’s the fort,” he started, gesturing toward the front of the plane where the controls and wheels were. Nessa’s eyes scanned the control board. So many buttons, switches, and wires to manage at once. In the corner of John’s fort was a picture. A picture of him and Gale at their flight academy graduation. She smiled. They were truly two peas in a pod; inseparable.
“Navigators work back here,” he pointed to the small table toward the back of the plane. “Exit is the same way you came in. Parachutes are here. You need one at all times. Never know what’s going to happen. Since you’re not navigating or flying, you put one on now.”
Nessa glanced at the contraption the major handed her. She was smart, sure, but the parachute looked more complicated than she needed it to be. No words were spoken as she raised her eyes to meet his, a silent help being spoken through multi-colored irises. John chuckled lightly and unbuckled the parachute and slid it over her arms. “S’supposed to fit like a backpack.” His fingers carefully snapped it into place at her chest. “You good?”
Nessa’s eyes twinkled, “All good, Major.”
-
“Stay with me, dammit!” Nessa’s voice was strained as her voice raised an octave. Being in the air was terrifying. It was nothing like she’d expected it to be. She knew she’d dodge and dive a few bullets, that she’d mend a gunshot wound to the leg, or that she’d flinch from the turbulence, but she was sadly mistaken.
She’d fought her way out of her coat, parachute, and hat. The mask across her face was hardly hanging on for dear life as she fought tooth and nail to stop an abdominal bleed. An enemy plane shot at the American aircraft. The bullet found a home in an amateur pilot.
Her hands were stained crimson, blanketed with warm blood as she hovered over the pilot to keep the bleeding at bay. The bullet was too deep. She tried to retrieve it, but she didn’t have the materials needed.
Guilt drowned her as the pilot’s breathing went shallow. His eyelids struggled to stay open. She snatched her oxygen mask off and placed it on his face forcefully. His face began to fade as her eyes filled with tears. “Wake up! Stay with me. Please…” Silence.
Nessa’s face softened as the tears finally fell. Her tongue ran across the bottom row of her teeth as she moved her jaw from left to right to delay the sob that bubbled deep within her. The emotional turbulence outweighed the physical turbulence of the plane; she hardly recognized they had landed.
She felt a gloved hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head hung heavy and turned slowly. Her mascara was smeared, her eyes were bloodshot red, and her eyelids were swollen. She was destroyed. She’d seen many things from the war, but this was too much. “C’mon, we’ve got to get out of here so the coroners can get his body.”
She shoved his hand off her shoulder and shook her head rapidly. “No, I’ll wait here.” From above her, John sighed heavily. The grief would wreck her even more once the reality fully set in.
“Nessa...”
Fire rose in her eyes. “This is my job, John. I am to offer comfort and stay with the patient until the appropriate physicians come. This is my job. Let me do my job. Please.” Her request drifted to a broken whisper as she asked herself what she signed up for.
-
“How is she?” he heard Gale’s voice like water in his ears after a pool day; garbled and incoherent.
Nessa Dixon prided herself on being a strong woman, being able to handle anything that life threw her way. She was humbled. By the time the coroners retrieved the soldier’s body from the plane and her feet were planted on the ground, she was hunched over, coughing violently as she emptied all that was within her. The little strength she had left was fleeting and she hit the concrete with a thud. John dropped her backpack against the ground and raced toward her. He tapped the side of her face but she didn't respond. “I need a nurse!”
John hoisted the nurse in his arms and took long strides to the infirmary. “Exhausted. It was too much for her. Find a new nurse to be in the air or keep everyone ready on the ground, but she can’t handle what she saw up there.” The major brushed passed the slew of soldiers who watched in curiosity. Major John Egan carried Major Nessa Dixon, the most highly trained nurse, into the infirmary. What a contradiction.
“What happened to her?” asked a familiar woman. Bessie. One of the lower-ranked nurses, but still a Lieutenant proven by the badge on her shirt, nonetheless. She plucked some gloves out of her pocket and slid them over her hands.
John met her light eyes, careful of his volume so as to not disrupt Nessa, though the likelihood of her waking up at the moment was slim. Lowly, he said, “My guess is shock. Exhaustion. She threw up and passed out as she stepped out of the plane. M’sure you have something for that.”
The younger nurse nodded and instructed him to bring her to the nearest empty bed. Nessa hardly moved a muscle. John stood off to the side, giving the Lieutenant room to work. Bessie had a diagnosis within a few minutes. The answer was simple: shock and exhaustion. Nessa, along with the other nurses, had been working day and night with minimal rest and nutrition. The events on the plane were too much and her body shut down.
“When will she wake up?” John questioned. Bessie shrugged. “I give it three days, max. She’s in a state of sedation without the medicine. When the body crashes, it needs adequate time to rest and recover. So, like I said, it could be within the next 24 to 72 hours. If she doesn’t wake up by then or stops breathing, she’d need to be transported to a hospital.”
John’s stomach clenched. How was he reliving the same scenario he experienced not too long before? He ran a hand down his face and palmed his mouth. Through his fingers, he asked, “Can I stay with her at least?”
Bessie’s lip turned upward as to smile just a little. She nodded once. “As long as you have the time, go for it. I may need you to leave during any extreme circumstances, but you’re permitted to stay. I’ll check in soon.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
At that, Bessie smiled wider. Respect was easily granted with the 100th, she recognized, and she was thankful. “Anytime, Major.”
-
She woke up 53 hours later. It was like she was pulled out of her body as she gasped and searched the room sporadically. The senior Major adjacent to her lowered the book in his hands and raised an eyebrow. “Morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Her eyes moved slowly.
“What happened?” God, she sounded awful. Without much thought, John grabbed the cup of water by his foot and handed it to her. The cup was empty within seconds.
“Passed out. Been out for a little over two days, I guess. Yeah, 53 hours is two days and some change, right?”
Panic rose like flames. Nessa sat up as quickly as her body would allow. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand. From behind his book, John raised his eyebrow. “Sit down, Nessa.”
She cut her eyes toward him. “I was out for 2 days! I can go do my job now.”
“But you can’t.” John set his book beside him and crossed his arms with a shrug. “Out for two days. You haven’t even eaten, what are you going to do out there? Pass out again? You’ve got nurses out there to handle it, they’ll be fine.”
Nessa inhaled deeply. Her eyes grew dark in frustration and her voice lowered as she thought about her words. “Telling me how to do my job is quite disrespectful, Major.”
John leaned forward in opposition. She knew how to stand her ground, a skill that she had no choice but to learn in her field of work, especially since she worked with men. However, this was different. Her health was on the line. How could she want him to take care of himself yet refuse to do the same?
“And not knowing how to take a step back is disrespectful to yourself, Major. I suggest you get comfortable, Bessie will be here soon.” Once again, he grabbed his book and perched his feet on the edge of her bed. The low growl she released didn’t fall on deaf ears, but he chose to ignore it anyway.
She’d be fine. Hopefully.
#saturnville#black!reader#black reader#masters of the air#mota#major john egan x reader#major john egan x black reader#major john egan#callum turner major john bucky egan#john egan#john egan x reader#bucky egan x black reader#bucky egan x reader#bucky egan#major john egan x black!reader#major john egan x amelia mae egan
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Please help!! Urgent ask!!
12/16/2022
Please Help a Mexican lesbian get dual citizenship for medical care and school!!
Hey everyone! I'm Rio/Xochitl a disabled reconnecting indigenous Mexican lesbian
This is very hard of me to ask so bear with me if my language isn't perfect but here it goes:
Over the past couple of years, my disability (chronic pain and fatigue caused by cerebral palsy) has worsened due to overworking and the pandemic preventing me from having access to adequate medical care. As such, my ability to work and maintain a regular 9-5 job or even get around in my daily life without mobility aids has diminished significantly and I've had to come to terms with that reality after attempting to work recently.
With my parents currently living in Mexico, I have a unique opportunity to obtain dual citizenship, this will grant me access to affordable medical care and schooling opportunities I can't get in the US without going into even more suffocating debt. I've experienced the differences in care and they're too stark to ignore. Put simply, my quality of life would improve drastically.
I am putting faith in my community to help me achieve this goal, I have an opportunity to finally stabilize our lives and work toward our goals, but I need the initial funds to get there! So please help out if you can !
Right now, I require the funds for:
A plane ticket- $400
New clothes- $200
Mobility aids (cane, shoe inserts, crutches)- $200
Miscellaneous/intial day to day funds- $300
Totaling $1100!
My parents do not have a means to help me get there, and they will not be in the country for very long, which is why it is absolutely VITAL to meet this goal! *I'm looking for flights leaving on February 21st* so I need this goal met by the end of January to be able to get the same price on the ticket.
Please help me meet this goal, with little exaggeration, I can tell you our future hangs on being able to make this happen, please find it in your heart this holiday season to afford a disabled person the opportunity to genuinely change their lives for the better!!
Pay links
C*sh App: $grumblybear
V*nmo: XochiRose
DM for PayPal
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frostbite — pt. 9
pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader
content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish
cw ; direct mentions of cuts, injuries, blood and torture (dottore is mentioned so of course this comes with him), panic attacks
notes ; ANOTHA ONE‼️ yes that’s right bitches, i wrote up another fweaking chapter in between the time of the last one i published, HA
also, i’m really sorry for the sudden content warnings after the last few chapters having nothing LOL, i wanted to give a bit of backstory on how the reader feels towards dottore and what they’ve been thru with him and it’s,, a little messed up
finally, i know i was bragging about writing a chapter so fast but it’s partially because im going on a 3 day field trip this week and i didn’t want the days i don’t write to snowball like they did b4, and i also really liked writing this one!
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“from this day forward, you will honor the oaths you have made to her majesty the tsaritsa and you will stop at nothing to bring snezhnaya victory.”
zapolyarny palace always seemed to have a periwinkle glow to it. no matter how early or late in the day it was, the light from outside always shined the same shade, as if the entire atmosphere of the palace was in a different plane. but it wasn’t only the lighting- it was also the air, the chillingly still air, and the way any and every sound made inside the ceremonial chapel seemed to bounce and echo eternally, as if the structure of the building extended endlessly unto the ends of the reality.
being here made you feel choked.
lines upon lines of nervous recruits, stood still as perfectly as ice sculptures, as the harbinger on the pedestal spoke the words of the fatui initiation. the doctor, under his corvine mask, seemed entirely uninterested in his own speech, like it was only an unnecessary formality- which, in his defense, was exactly that. in fact, nobody in this room seemed like they wanted to be there, creating the most uncomfortable stillness possible. your right arm was also starting to ache from being held up across your chest for so long, fist tight over your heart.
thankfully, it was over before you could even realize. your fellow recruits scattered to leave the chapel, whispering to each other about how excited they were to finally be officiated officers. you don’t understand how they could ever be excited about this. eventually, you were the only remaining recruit in the chapel, staring into the ground as you were lost in your thoughts. so much so that you didn’t notice the doctor was still there too.
“you.”
the deep, emotionless voice you’d been already hearing speak for over half an hour now rang out in the empty chapel. instantaneously, your head jumped upwards to face the harbinger with a fearful gaze.
“you were the top student of the medical field, were you not?”
you nodded shakily.
“come. you’ll show me why you deserve to be here.”
you follow the doctor’s imposing statute around aimlessly as he leads you through dizzying hallways, until you reach a wide, dark room. light in the room is minimal and you could tell there’s several other people inside, even if you can’t decipher their features. the doctor shuts the door behind you and you hear a lever being pulled, the lights turn on soon after with an electrical hum. your skin chills as you’re finally able to see the other people- they’re all dottore. in all sorts of ages and likenesses, all of the presences in the room look exactly like dottore.
all the same light blue hair and uncaring scarlet eyes.
“omega. you’re back. is this the subject of the next operation?” one of them utters out into the empty room and you feel the weight of several gazes on you.
operation? you brush aside your bewilderment at the multiple dottores to truly take in your surroundings. the large room seems to be made of entirely different materials from the rest of the palace, like it was added to the building at a later date- it’s covered in metal plates bolted onto each other full of buttons and levers, the lackluster furniture is to match. in between the metal plates that consist the every surface of the room, there are thin, grated tubes with some sort of yellow, glowing energy flowing to and fro, it seems to be what powers the technology of the room. there’s several different cork boards practically drowning in scribbled papers and blueprints, bookshelves upon bookshelves full of thick dusty books and glass jars with either dubious substances or varied organisms floating in a transparent concoction. finally, at the very center of the room is a metal surgical table, attached to the tabletop are leather straps, as well as a small cart with seemingly medical tools on it. it’s truly undeniable where you are.
dottore’s laboratory.
and worse of all, it seems like a surgery was at hand. the doctor who escorted you here, apparently omega, orders one of his… clones to ‘fetch the subject’. one of them follows suit and clicks one of the buttons, soon after the surgical table starts to lower into the ground, like it’s on a lift. some minutes pass in total silence as the table remains disappeared and it’s in that time that you notice how violently your heart is beating, you’re not sure if you’ll die in the next proceedings but it certainly feels like it. finally the mechanical whirr of the lift returns to your earshot, it seems like the table is back.
unfortunately, along with the whirr, you hear terrified sobs.
your heart practically drops to your feet when the surgical table is within view again with a man on it. his chest heaves up and down rapidly with his cries and whimpers, his clothes torn and bloodstained. there’s a shove at your back and you stumble into the center, where the man is. another mechanical sound behind you and you turn to see all the dottores gathered to watch you, only they’re separated from you by metal railings that weren’t there when you walked in. within all of the stabbing gazes of the dottore adjacents, you catch omega’s eyes, who seem the most unfeeling and calculating of them all. every single one of them watch you like predators.
“you wanted to be a medic, didn’t you? well, heal.”
this has to be a nightmare, but why aren’t you waking up? the man’s sobs are incessant, like he physically can’t stop. gathering the smallest sliver of bravery, you turn back to the table and examine his situation. his outfit is practically ragged beyond recognition, but within what you can still see of it, you spot the fatui logo on his sleeve- this was a fatui officer. though more glaringly than that, are the cuts, bruises and pricks that seem to litter every inch of his body, all clearly intentional and strategized and oozing a scarlet shade that burned into your eyes. he was experimented on.
your hands shake almost beyond motor control, but you still get to work.
—
scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing.
the crimson specks gradually start fading from your hands, turning the sink water a translucent pink. you scrub and scrub and scrub, every surface and every crevice of your skin and it doesn’t seem to be enough. you scrub away the sounds of the man’s screams, his visceral reactions, but it’s not enough. you scrub away the image of the impossibly precise cuts on his skin, the ones you were supposed to treat, but it’s not enough. you try to scrub the doctor’s answer when you asked him ‘who was that man?’, but it’s not enough.
‘my last assistant’ he said.
your hands sting and you flinch, snapping from your brief spiral. there’s no sign of the blood anymore, the water is clear again. you know it’s completely clear because when the tears fall from your eyes and down into the sink, they join the water below seamlessly. you hear footsteps approaching you from the hall, somebody’s coming to the bathroom. you scurry to leave the bathroom, aggressively wiping your eyes to rid your skin of any wetness that might show you to be weak.
your wishes to escape this wretched day are unheard, as instead of leaving the bathroom done and dusted- you bump into the very person you heard approaching, because why wouldn’t that happen now. and why wouldn’t said person be none other than the eleventh harbinger himself.
“hey, be more careful wh- wait…” childe starts off his sentence with a warning, stoic demeanor, though it melts away quickly once he gets another glance at you. he seems to entirely pause to take in every little detail of your appearance before him, while you do your best to look off to the side and possibly hide the newly incoming tears in your eyes.
“y-y/n..? is that you?”
that’s it. you can’t take anything anymore today, it’s been too much. with that said, you simply turn on your heel and start walking away, not a word or look given to childe.
“y/n, wait!”
“y/n!”
“y/n? are you okay?”
you blink and you’re back at lingju pass, facing the entrance of the ruin guard research lab. this time, it’s paimon who checks on you, her small hand set on your shoulder and a mildly worried look on her face. you nod and give her a tight lipped smile, which she buys and turns to childe.
“here we are- welcome to liyue’s institute of toy research!” he gestures.
“yeah, we’re here! i can already hear the sounds of machinery inside, awesome!” teucer exclaims, nearly buzzing with excitement.
what he says is no lie either, from where you stand in the entrance of the- err… institute, you can already hear muffled hums and whirrs of the machines. they’re sounds all too familiar to you, but ones you don’t miss.
“what is this place? and how do you know about it?” paimon turns to childe.
“according to y/n, this is one of dottore’s research facilities.” childe looks over to you, letting you take the stage to answer in depth. you nod curtly.
“dottore is another one of the fatui harbingers and.. my direct superior, i’m technically his assistant. since before i ever even came close to meeting the doctor, he’s always had a passion for old technology and tinkering with it and so he converted these old ruins into a research lab dedicated to this.”
“huh? so the ruin guards are built by the fatui?!” asks paimon.
“well, no. they’re supposedly more related to the abyss- in fact, perhaps if it weren’t for the doctor’s particular interest in them, we’d likely be more opposed to them. so instead, we simply research them.”
your gaze is diverted towards another part of the distance in the ruins of lingju pass, where a ruin guard you’d previously spotted still sits inactive.
“..as to why these ruin guards have decided to up and roam about here, i received a letter earlier this morning from the doctor himself asking me to come by this facility to check in on it, as he decided to merely abandon it without shutting it down after he became uninterested in it- that’s why i ran into you guys here. and to add, this isn’t his only lab either, he has other minor facilities in other regions.”
“wow, yet another harbinger with a bad attitude!” paimon shakes her head disapprovingly and you can’t help but snort at her comment.
“but at least that explains why you were totally okay with bringing teucer here. we’ve got someone who’s qualified and knowledgeable on these things.”
childe nods wholeheartedly, with a grin that only exudes… pride? like he’s proud of the way paimon describes you, or at least proud of your trustworthiness in this situation- like he fully trusts that things will go swimmingly with you there. it’s something like that, but you can’t decipher what seems to be more probable. it’s not fully factual either and you scoff.
“i-i can hardly be called qualified or knowledgeable, i only know enough to navigate around them from my experiences with dottore. i don’t even know what this place looks like on the inside.”
“yeah, me neither.” childe adds.
paimon’s eyes widen. “w-wait, so… are you or are you not worried about your brother’s safety?!”
“of course i am.. but no matter what the danger is, i will parry it. isn’t that what any older brother would do?”
tiny footsteps are heard near you.
“what’re you guys chatting about? come on, let’s go inside!”
“ahah.. alright alright.”
you all finally head inside- the moment you fully walk in, it’s like a pang of the most bone-chilling familiarity hits you. the facility is built the same way as dottore’s lab in zapolyarny palace, which in itself is unsurprising, but it still manages to make you freeze in your steps. you can’t move. your vision clouds and you’re back in front of the operation table, tons of eyes scrutinizing your every move, blood on your hands, screams in your ears, you can’t breathe-
there’s a hand on your shoulder.
in your haze, you’re half expecting the hand to be omega dottore’s, as he’s readying to reprimand you for whatever mistake you might’ve committed and to make sure you’re never seen again. but instead, it’s childe there and his expression is nowhere near what dottore seems to bear on his own face every day, disapproving and diminishing- no, childe looks worried for you. not just worried but also… like he means to assure you that it’s okay, that he knows how you must be feeling and that it’ll all be okay now. you choose to believe him.
unfortunately, while the two of you were distracted back at the entrance, teucer decided to run up ahead into a room full of ruin graders with a door that shut behind him. the remaining four of you scurry to find another way inside and after figuring out some puzzles and intricacies, you manage to open the door for teucer. you’re still forced to go through more puzzles and inconvenient paths, even through lasers, before you’re able to meet with teucer again, who’s immediately interested in the next room over full of ruin guards.
“now, how about a little game of hide-and-seek?” proposes childe.
“uh.. now? but…”
“heh, i have a surprise for you, y’know.”
teucer’s interested is immediately piqued. “a surprise! what sort of surprise?”
“don’t worry, you’ll have the chance to look for it later. but before that, you just have to close your eyes, turn around and count down from sixty.”
“okay… sixty is a really long time, though.” the boy follows suit, albeit begrudgingly.
childe calls the rest of you to clear the ruin guards that are just waiting to activate and pummel you inside the room, while teucer still yells the numbers obliviously. however, these particular ruin guards prove to be unexpectedly tougher than the others and childe manages to take down the last one with little time on teucer’s countdown. as if to make his life harder, the conveyor belts in the room roll in a new group of the damned machines to attack. you and the traveler are already backing into defensive stances in front of teucer.
“three… two… one… okay, you ready?”
“give me another ten seconds, teucer. still hiding…” childe drawls to his unsuspecting brother while his dual blades charge up with more hydro energy and the ruin guards stomp ever closer.
you’re on the verge of a heart attack, throwing childe a panicked look as you pull out your own polearm, though still focusing on shielding teucer. the cheeky bastard only chuckles sheepishly while a mechanical fist is about to slam on him- the next second is blinded by a purple flash and you spot the monstrous stature of foul legacy in between the robots. if you weren’t so distressed, focused on protecting the kid in the room and in the amidst of a ruin guard attack, you’d be reprimanding him for resorting to the transformation after he explicitly said how much it strains him. he valiantly takes down all of the machines on his own and they fall defeatedly with dust settling in between them, while teucer is on the verge of finishing the extra ten seconds.
“..one… coming, ready or not!” teucer uncovers his eyes and turns around. for a moment, you’re afraid of him seeing foul legacy, but instead you watch his eyes brighten like never before and he runs up to the arrangement of full-scale mr. cyclopses on display for him- childe nowhere to be found.
you watch over him as he plays around and looks for his brother, fond grin overtaking your expression..
“this.. this is everything i’ve ever dreamed of! it’s mr. cyclops world!”
“isn’t it amazing, teuce’?!” you happily exclaim back.
“mhm… boy if these mr. cyclopses weren’t so big, i’d sure love to take one home.”
the traveler and paimon encourage teucer to actually go look for his brother, something he’d entirely forgotten about in his sheer joy and he scoots off elsewhere. purely by accident, you spot parts of a slumped figure from your peripheral vision and run over before you can even think to do so, the two travelers following suit. childe looks the weakest you’ve ever seen him- chest heaving, eyes unfocused, limbs loose. he looks up at you with all the strength he can muster to move his head up to do so and sighs in relief.
“it’s a good thing you three found me first… looks like using the foul legacy transformation while i was still somewhat injured took more out of me than i’d thought…”
you have half the mind to nag at him about it, but you remain silent.
“i’ve no idea what i’d do if teucer saw me like this. look at me, deflated as a burst balloon..” he mutters out shamefully.
“i hope this was worth undoing all my work.” you quip with playful seriousness.
“like i said, i can never pass up on an opportunity to test my limits… and that’s why i, tartaglia, am always getting stronger, heh. anyway, childhood dreams are all too easily shattered. even if you just leave them be, they will fall to pieces all by themselves. so someone has to protect them, right?”
the weight of his words settles into your chest and weighs it down along with it. you know now that both of you were direct victims of this- both at the same time but from different perspectives. your childhood innocence died when ajax disappeared, your dreams shattered when he came back ignoring you. ajax’s entire old self was killed by his new one in the abyss, when he had to learn to be a killer to survive. it doesn’t take two seconds to realize that the last thing he’d ever what was for his little brother to go what he went through. so maybe tearing the stitches you made on him was for a better cause after all.
“if you make a promise, you keep it. if you make a mistake, you apologize.. and if you give someone a dream, you defend it to the end. that is what family is all about, isn’t it?”
“quit the tough guy act already! you need to get treated right away, mister!” paimon reprimands childe, you think that if he wasn’t already too injured she’d add a flick to his forehead as well.
“don’t have to tell me twice.” you add.
“a fine suggestion, but first.. i have a little something for teucer. please give it to him on my behalf.”
childe fabricates a small mr. cyclops action figure from his pocket, explaining that he had it smithed some time ago, intending to give it to teucer whenever he returned to snezhnaya next. he asks the traveler and paimon to explain his absence to his brother, to which the traveler humorously responds with the classic pinky promise rhyme of your childhood, very clearly learned from teucer. they soon leave you and childe alone.
you sigh, rubbing your hands preparedly. “alright, pretty boy, let’s sit you back down before you pass out standing and make this harder for the both of us.”
childe, in the midst of complying with you, chokes on
his breath and halts his movements at the nickname.
“p-pretty boy?”
“that’s what the treasure hoarders called you, right?”
“ahahah… i guess so..”
once you crouch to his level, you spot a flush on his cheeks- seems like he might run a fever soon as well, better act fast. a light blue glow emanates from your hands as you conjure your cryo abilities, only this time with the intent to heal instead of attack. you hover your energy-filled hands all over childe’s body, though never touching him. after some cycling, he visibly untenses and regulates his breathing, a subconscious sigh of relaxation escaping his lips.
you wipe your hands and plop down next to him on the ground, turning to face his weak, shut-eye self.
“alright, i’ll stop being bitchy, you did incredibly well today. you’re a good brother and… and i-i’m proud of you for it, teucer’s a lucky kid.”
childe snickers weakly and mumbles the quietest ‘thank.. you..’. analyzing his demeanor, you can tell he’ll fall asleep any second- so better to admit vulnerabilities now than any other time, right?
“a-and, um… thank you also for, i don’t know, keeping me grounded back there? it’s probably very obvious that the doctor and i aren’t exactly the best of friends and this entire place just… reeked of him. but you noticed that and you helped me, so thank you.” you’re fidgeting to keep your head from dwelling on the matter.
there’s a sudden weight on your shoulder, though not like a reassuring hand. instead when you turn to see what it is, you’re met with the top of a head of ginger hair. you don’t know how to feel about it for a few seconds, but then you remember childe must be exhausted from everything today- so you do nothing about it. with slow, careful movements, you lean your own head down to rest on the top of his and the two of you remain in that position in silence.
“…come back with me…” whispers a rough voice.
“what?”
“when i go back to snezhnaya… come back with me. please..”
“…okay.”
you shut your eyes too.
taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana
#childe genshin x reader#childe imagines#childe x reader#childe x y/n#childe x you#genshin impact#genshin impact fic#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#childe fic#tartaglia x you#tartaglia x reader#tartaglia x y/n#childe tartaglia ajax#tartagalia genshin impact#tartaglia imagines#childe tartaglia#childe genshin#childe genshin impact#tartaglia genshin impact#genshin fic#genshin impact imagines
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Propaganda:
1. No one has managed this yet at this point in the story. The Homunculi are always listening, always knowing what the heroes are up to, always one step ahead. The only thing that has surprised them is Roy killing Lust, but that was only because she got cocky and left him to die instead of killing him outright. Olivier, in the middle of a massive attack on her fort by a creature behind her comprehension, finds a way to get the truth from Ed -- who has refused to tell her on the basis of Bradley's threat to Winry, and who we all know is a stubborn little bastard. She gets the answers, and she gets them without the Homunculi or the high brass guessing that she now knows their entire plan, and is high enough in the hierarchy of power to seriously damage them. For once, she puts the heroes a step ahead of the Homunculi.
2. Note that this is not Ling holding his own against Bradley (that's not underrated at all) -- this is the compassion and loyalty to his people that leads him to severely hinder his own escape because his servant is critically injured and he absolutely will not, under any circumstances, leave her behind. "A king is no king without his people", indeed.
3. Like Olivier above, Riza manages what has up to now been nearly impossible from right under Bradley's nose. She devises a perfect code with every name she needs and knows how to make sure Roy is getting it. Her intelligence and ingenuity absolutely shine, and she manages to also put them a step ahead of the Homunculi, from right under their thumbs.
4. Winry is a teenager who hasn't seen any medicine beyond what it takes to attach automail in years, but she draws on the textbooks she read -- which, aside, she was reading, comprehending, and remembering medical textbooks as a child -- delivering a healthy baby with no complications, alone.
5. Gluttony's belly is supposed to be inescapable, an entirely different plane of reality, and Ed looks at all of this surrounding him, says "I'm not dying here" and concocts a wild plan to get them out by repeating the ultimate taboo and throwing himself back through the Gate of Truth -- and it works.
6. Scar's brother is a scholar who has lived his entire life in a culture that despises alchemy. He knows only what he's read of it, and he not only recognizes that Amestris is a massive transmutation circle but also devises a circle that will counteract it, and hides that behind layers of code and the physical shape of the papers, so that only his brother can find it.
7. Riza cannot speak. She can barely breathe. She is bleeding to death. And she still refuses to allow Roy to betray himself. No words, no breath, no reason to believe she may yet live -- but she tells him do not save me at the cost of your principles.
8. Like Ling above, Roy's loyalty to his own people drives and commands and powers him. He never forgets about Jean, and the first chance he gets, he sends someone to heal him, even if it means staying blind for longer. There was no need to wait, except that he refused to put his people second to himself.
#fullmetal alchemist brotherhood#fullmetal alchemist#fma:b#fma#can you tell what i'm currently rewatching?#it's critical that these are also *underrated“ badass moments#the ones that define the characters#rather than the huge kickass things they do during the fights#the smaller moments and defining parts that show their inner strength and intelligence and commitment and fidelity#i figured - this show has so many big badass moments but what about the little ones?
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This is my big one for s2e6 and it’s the thing that made me bolt upright in my chair, really just ... kicked me in the chest. For context my point of view on the show is a non-supernatural one, I do not think Lottie is psychic I think she’s delusional. It’s okay if you do not, but that’s the context for my take:
I have a strong suspicion that adult!Lottie’s being played, and I really do not like it.
Full disclosure, I have a history in the psychiatric world as a patient, I’m not schizophrenic but I am psychotic and I am well managed and very stable but like... I know what this shit is meant to be like, from about 15 years of personal experience. So back in s2e4 I was immediately .... confused. By Lott’s new psych. She seemed... just off.
I thought to myself “Hey, you know, psychiatry is one of those things that is so often misrepresented in all forms of media, I’m probably just reading too much into it.” But then I rewatched (and rewatched) and the more I did the more it felt... deliberate. What got to me was that ... her normal psych has gone on sabattical and been replaced, and the new one is trying to tell her not to suppress her visions with medication but try to understand them and what they’re trying to tell her.
A real psychiatrist simply would never talk like that. Would never suggest that. As far as psychiatry is concerned, Lottie is schizophrenic, her visions are delusional. And delusions/hallucinations are less ... they’re less like dreams where you might think “Oh I’m going to keep track of what I’m dreaming about and see if it means anything” (which, incidentally, is also not a thing a psychiatrist would usually do, but that’s besides the point) but are more like... a damaged computer, throwing up random, unsorted and unrelated data. Our brains are pattern finders, we desperately try to make connections in what we experience, and when our brains start misfiring and giving us bizarre and nonsensical data we still try to connect it. Delusional thinking doesn’t ... say anything about you, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just the brain trying to sort nonsense into piles of organised nonsense.
From a psychiatric perspective a delusion or hallucination is a symptom no different to a ... headache or a rash. It’s a non-desirable issue to be treated and ideally cured, not ... explored and looked at for some kind of deeper meaning. And this isn’t even talking about like, trauma, and processing it through therapy. Lottie’s psychosis manifested long before the plane, she’s been on medication most of her life. It’s not something she can just... ignore, or choose to fight, or try not to have. More than that, by actively engaging with it it damages her coping mechanisms that she’s developed over the years to ground her in reality when she’s not certain.
Anyway. This all just seemed.... off. Wrong. And Lottie’s reaction is to say “There’s no meaning, because they’re not REAL.” Because she’s spent a LOT of time in treatment, trying to build a solid foundation of reality to live on. She’s clearly very distressed by the idea of losing touch with that, and her psych is NOT helping. It all seemed very... off.
I thought through options of what was going on. Maybe... maybe her new psych isn’t real? Maybe she’s talking to the wall? That was my best theory with so little to go on. But it was not a very satisfying answer, and didn’t really fit the general themes and style of the show anyway... I was confused.
Fast forward to ep 6 and we get more time with the new psych. Lott is now CLEARLY agitated. She can’t sit still, seems very anxious. She starts talking about “the visions” and “this feeling even about things that I know are right infront of me, it’s like it’s pointing me towards back then.” Her psych says “Is it possible that your fear of the past might be actually your fear of your illness?” Only THAT IS NOT WHAT LOTT SAID. She didn’t SAY she was afraid of the past, she was afraid of “a feeling about things I know are right infront of me, pointing me back towards then.” What does she mean by that? Finding random queens in a pile of papers? Visions of dead bees? The reality is that she’s not afraid of the past, she’s losing touch with reality. In psychiatric wording, she’s struggling to hold onto “insight” i.e. the ability to determine what’s real or not.
Lott kind of misses this disconnected thought though, and instead she says “That’s not the problem, I’m not worried that I’m ill, I’m worried I never was.” This shows a complete LACK of insight, she’s forgotten that only very recently she was terrified of her illness and now she’s suddenly thinking that maybe 30+ years of treatment were all for nothing? Maybe she was just never sick at all?
Then she goes off on a tangent, she says “With Travis coming, Natalie and now Misty’s here too. It’s like it sent them here, to show me.” “To show you what?” “That it WAS real. And that I wasn’t the only one who felt it out there, that it was all of us, that it was a part of us.” “What is...it...Lottie?” And she goes off about the god of the wilderness and the terrible things they did.
But... okay so Lott’s losing her objectivity here, which is ... not uncommon for a psychotic person to deal with. And she’s developing a belief that she was never sick, that she was never delusional, that it was always real. Now only 2 episodes beforehand she’d come to the psych on an emergency basis to increase her meds PRECISELY because she was afraid this would happen. She’s TERRIFIED of getting to this exact point, being this exact way. Because it leaves her absolutely out of control of herself, her own mind.
But listen to what the psychiatrist is saying. First she says to her face that Lott’s psychosis is “controlled.” But... no it’s not! She’s having hallucinations, she’s CLEARLY delusional, and showing all kinds of signs of psychosis. She’s definitionally out of control.
Then she asks probing questions not about her mental state, but about the details of her delusions, about the god of the forest. She STILL hasn’t increased her meds and she’s acting like it’s not at all weird that she’s saying stuff like “I think I’m not sick and never was.” Which, to a psychotic person or a psychiatrist is SUCH a red flag, because the next immediate question to raise if a schizophrenic or bipolar or otherwise psychotic person says those words is “...are you taking your medication?” Because believing that you’re not delusional is one of the core hallmarks OF BEING DELUSIONAL.
Literally the definition of a delusion is a belief without evidence that you hold against all odds even in the face of contradictory evidence. If you are sitting there saying EXTRAORDINARY things and requiring zero external evidence to back up your claims and ABSOLUTELY certain in those beliefs no matter what... that’s delusional. Of COURSE you think you’re sane, if you lack insight you simply cannot tell what you’re thinking isn’t rational.
It’s like you are so certain that gravity exists, you can feel it, you can see its’ effects, and you comfortably put your life on the line for gravity a hundred times a day. If someone told you gravity wasn’t real you’d think they sounded mad, and if they told you YOU were the one out of touch, and that actually gravity wasn’t real, you could just look around and go “Uh... obviously you’re wrong.” But if you’re getting bad info into your brain you could be relying on something with JUST AS MUCH certainty and have absolutely no idea or capacity to tell that it’s actually completely wrong, no matter how many times you were told or shown. Medicated psychotic people regain their insight and can say “Sometimes I think things that don’t make sense, and I can tell that they’re not real, and I’m glad I don’t make choices based on that false information.” Unmanaged psychotic people say “I don’t know why I should take some pill, I’m fine, nothing’s wrong at all.”
I just canNOT fathom how any psychiatrist in the world would sit with a known schizophrenic patient who’s describing having active visions, who believes that a god they found in the middle of the forest is sending people to them so they can all be magically healed by them, and not IMMEDIATELY say to themselves “Hmm, this person is clearly having a psychotic event, is clearly in a tough spot, and needs their meds adjusted and maybe we should look into their wellbeing in the short term.”
All of which led me to suddenly jump up in my chair and shout “OH MY GOD” at my poor friend who was watching with me. Because I think that Lottie is being manipulated. I think that someone’s been fucking with her meds. I think that someone got rid of her real psychiatrist and replaced him with a plant. I think the new psych is either trying to encourage her to become a more invested cult leader, possibly the cult is becoming like... more intense without her knowledge and they’re trying to turn her into a saint by removing her meds and encouraging her delusions. OR someone is trying to work out what REALLY happened in the woods and they’re manipulating her so that she’ll tell them the full story while she’s vulnerable and confused.
Either way, I’m 99.9% sure someone’s deliberately fucking with her at this point, and it’s actually really pissing me off because I can’t stand seeing vulnerable people, esp mentally ill people, being manipulated and used. It’s a HUGE thing for me, and ... aaaaaah whoever’s behind this shit I hope they meet Shauna on a very bad day.
#yellowjackets#spoilers#theories#I think I'm right on this one even though I really do not want to be#long post
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Come home to me - part 1
This is my first John Egan fic. It's a bit of an unusual take but please bear with me. I kind of know where this is going but I need to see where my John Egan infected brain is leading me!!
John Egan x OC Female!Reader
Summary: When the idea of a past life isn't just an idea or something that is only for dreams.
Warnings: mentions of injury, blood, possible military inaccuracies (but I am a geek, so I've tried to do my research!)
Please let me know what you think, either in the comments or if you would prefer, shoot me a message.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lizzy had been haunted by nightmares from the past, reliving the harrowing experiences of flying during the war. These nightmares had been intensifying lately, becoming increasingly vivid and distressing.
“Red flare. I see a red flare. Get the ambulances ready!”
“Lizzy! Wake up!” Sarah's urgent voice jolted Lizzy from her torment.
“How many came back?” Lizzy's voice trembled as she regained consciousness, her eyes searching for reassurance.
“Sarah?” Lizzy blinked, disoriented, as she scanned the room. Her best friend and flatmate, Sarah, was perched on the edge of the bed, concern etched across her face.
“You were dreaming again! What happened this time?” Sarah's voice was gentle, yet filled with concern.
“There was another mission, another run and we lost…” Lizzy's voice trailed off, haunted by the memories of loss and tragedy. “I don’t know what’s happening to me! These dreams… they feel so real. It's like... when I sleep, I'm transported back to those moments. But now, being awake... I feel lost.”
Swinging her feet over the side of the bed, Lizzy headed for the bathroom, her mind still reeling from the lingering echoes of her nightmares. “Am I crazy?” She asked, her voice tinged with desperation.
Leaning against the door frame, Sarah tried to offer comfort through the closed door. “Are you crazy? No. These are just dreams. Look, I’ve been doing some reading - you know, to see if I can help. There are stories of young children, even as young as 3 or 4 years old, who have vivid memories of events they shouldn't remember. Like planes crashing and finding fallen soldiers. Perhaps your dreams are something similar.”
“But this feels different, Sarah. They’re not just dreams, they feel like memories... I feel like I know those people. I remember the roar of the planes, the mix of love and fear for them. I feel like I'm losing my mind. Please tell me I’m not” Lizzy's voice wavered with uncertainty, her eyes pleading for understanding.
Sarah couldn’t bear to see her friend in such distress. “I’ll tell you what, let’s go.”
Lizzy yanked open the bathroom door, toothbrush hanging from her mouth, staring at Sarah as though she had suggested something absurd.
“What?”
“Let’s go. Let’s get in the car and go wherever you feel drawn to. I'm not saying you're crazy, but if it helps you cope, we'll go.” Lizzy's embrace was tight, grateful for even the smallest gesture of acceptance from her friend. She might not find all the answers, but at least Sarah was willing to try.
As Lizzy stared at herself in the mirror, toothbrush in hand, she couldn't help but notice a faint scar in her hairline. Its presence seemed to defy explanation, appearing suddenly in the same spot she had dreamt of being injured. Closing her eyes, she was transported back to the aftermath of another intense bombing run. The memories flooded her senses, overwhelming her with vivid recollections.
The acrid scent of aviation fuel filled her nostrils as she sat on the tarmac, the chaos of the scene unfolding around her. The cacophony of voices, the urgent shouts for medical assistance, all merged into a disorienting symphony of noise. Trembling with adrenaline and pain, she clutched an untouched cigarette in her fingers, her shoulder and head throbbing from the injuries sustained. In that moment, she felt disconnected from reality, a bystander in her own body as she was ushered into a waiting ambulance and whisked away to the infirmary.
Lizzy could hear his footsteps before he came rushing through the double doors. His voice cut through the chaos of the infirmary.
"Lizzy!" Concern etched across his features as John hurried to her side, disregarding the calls of the on-duty Matron. Reaching her bed, he exhaled in relief at the sight of her safe and conscious.
"You scared the shit out of me!" John's concern melted into teasing as he observed Lizzy, still in her white tank top with her flight suit folded at her hips. She chuckled, a mix of amusement and discomfort, as the nurse tended to her shoulder.
"Have to keep you on your toes, Major. Can't make things easy for you!" Lizzy retorted, her tone playful despite the pain. However, John's expression grew serious as he gently grasped her hand. "You weren't supposed to be up there. DeMarco should have been on that mission, not you," he murmured, his voice tinged with concern.
She flinched as the nurse finished the sutures. Collecting her equipment, she coughed quietly to get their attention. "You have 10 minutes Lizzy and then the Matron is going to come looking for the Major." Giving her thanks, the nurse drew the curtain, leaving her alone with John.
He gently brushed stray hair away from her face, his touch comforting as he cleaned away the blood. Lizzy winced when he caught the graze in her hairline.
“Benny is still recovering from the last run and I’m just as good of a pilot as any of you boys. So, I spoke to Chick and he said yes.” Lizzy’s words carried a hint of defiance, tempered by the vulnerability in her eyes. John held her face with both his hands, looking into her blue eyes, committing every freckle and now scar to memory.
“You mean you told Chick you were flying and left before he could say no.” John whispered, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.
"I would never presume to tell a senior officer what to do!" Lizzy feigned innocence, her tone laced with playful sarcasm.
“Is that so, Lieutenant?" John whispered with a sly grin. "Well, I know for a fact you're not shy about giving orders to senior officers. If memory serves me right, you were quite commanding the other weekend, telling me to do all sorts of things..." Lizzy pressed a finger to his lips, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes, as she stifled his words. A soft chuckle escaped John's lips as he noticed the delicate pink blush spreading across her cheeks. John’s mischievous tone faltered, replaced by a sombre frown as he voiced his fears.
“Liz, I can’t… I can’t lose you. I won’t get through this if you…” Lizzy placed a finger back against his lips and gently hushed him. “I’m alright John. I’m here, I came back, just like I promised.”
#john egan fanfic#john egan#john bucky egan#john egan fic#john egan fanfiction#john bucky egan x reader#john egan x female reader#john egan x oc#masters of the air fic#MoTA
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Jayfeather fights god - Bonefall
Excuse me?? What??
IT'S THE NEWEST WILD ADDITION
So, two things; 1. Jayfeather becomes a full warrior before he chooses to become a medic, and 2. StarClan hates him
They do NOT share the Kin of your Kin prophecy willingly, so through Po3, Jayfeather and Lionblaze's powers are coming in and they have no idea what's happening. Jaypaw, being the one with the ability to walk in different planes of reality, is desperately trying to rip the answer out of them
"What's happening to us! What have you done to me? Something is wrong and I know it, please, StarClan, speak to me!"
But they don't answer; because they fear what the Three are capable of. They're beyond StarClan. They could destroy the Clans themselves, so they hope it goes away.
(Rogue StarClan warriors will be Jay's primary allies in the stars.)
It's confirmed to them that Jaypaw can mess with life and death itself when he runs to StarClan to guide Poppypaw home. That's the first Greencough outbreak he supernaturally meddles with.
The second is for Hazeltail. I'm tapping into my HRT guide a bit and playing with lycopus' nasty little side effect; Hazel secretly gives her treatments to her Clanmates to save them, and ends up with an illness that no one knows how to cure.
Jayfang, currently a medicine cat apprentice, refuses to leave her side. A StarClan warrior comes down to fetch her, and Jay LOSES it,
"No! You're not taking her from me, I prayed and I begged and you didn't answer, not even to give her a chance!"
"This isn't a negotiation. Move aside."
And that's the moment he fights god. Physically. Actually assaulting a member of StarClan-- and he wins. Hazeltail is saved, she's going to stay alive up to the current arc.
Of course, ThunderClan isn't aware he just committed the highest form of sacrilege they didn't even know was possible, so Hazeltail's miraculous recovery? They think that it was worthy of an Honor Title.
That's how Jayfang's name is changed to Jayfeather. In a ceremony that definitely looks like,
(Image ID: Meme from The Office where a shorter, long haired man in a white shirt and tacky tie wearing a fanny pack shakes the hand of a tall man in a black suit. The long-haired man is visibly confused and staring at the camera. The man in the suit is smiling proudly and patting him on the back.)
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I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |
Part Fourteen
A/n: Hello! This part honestly took me a while to work out so here's me hoping it came out alright:) Big thank you to @Youlookjustfinetome btw for finding me some more G pics, honestly lots of love to you, practically saved my life🥲 And I hope you all enjoy part fourteen!!
Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.
The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.
Warnings: There's some medical stuff here, lot of mixed feelings, bit of an angry rant but not much to warn you about tbh
Masterlist
—
I'd found myself nodding away, head in another place when the doctor had come in to speak to me.
Wishing I’d been on another plane.
Or in a different fucking reality altogether, I really didn’t know.
But I’d hardly paid her any attention, even when she’d rattled off the extensive list of the injuries they’d discovered since the paramedics had wheeled me in.
Severe blunt force trauma to the head. “There’s no need to fret, I know it can sound daunting but the induced coma you were put into on arrival was used to protect your brain from any further swelling after the initial hit. We’ve also done multiple scans since so we’re almost certain that there will be no longterm damage.”
“Hang on- almost? What’s that meant to mean?” Matty had piped up in retort, having held my hand through it the entire time. He hadn’t let go, not even for a second, once the shorthaired woman had arrived not long after Lee, my nurse, had slipped out.
“Only time will tell with these sorts of injuries.” She’d tried to appease us with a clinical sort of smile, but then had gone on to describe the hit to me…
I had to shake away the thoughts of it even now, long after she’d left.
It sounded so violent. So harsh to what I could barely even recall.
“You were hit head-on. Meaning that your torso took the brunt force of the collision, which also resulted in you being thrown backwards nearly three feet. That in itself left a lot of room for damage when your body collided with the ground. The back of your head will have a rather large scar but we did our best to minimise it, and the hair should fall nicely over the top without any notice.”
I’d nodded at her once and had fought the urge to reach up and touch beneath the thick gauze they’d padded there.
Another scar.
I’d had to look away when Matty had tried to catch my eye.
One perforated eardrum, left-side. “There was a severe rupture in one of your inner ear canals which was a cause for concern too. At this moment, we’re still left unsure on how long it could take for the damage to repair itself, or if it ever will as a result of the injury to your head. Currently, we’ve got you taking a high dosage of-”
She’d prattled on after that. Talks of antibiotics and surgery (if things really came down to it), and then the warning of me maybe having to deal a with a total loss of hearing incase of any infection in the future.
I’d checked out rather quickly at that. But in truth, it had explained a lot. The ringing that wouldn’t stop. The earaches and the itching. As well as the feeling like I’m underwater, hearing everything through a tinny in-ear piece, or trying to talk over the sound of a very rowdy washing machine.
Matty had asked the doctor a plethora of questions on my behalf at that. Or I only assumed, because the woman had replied telling him that she would be happy to pass on a couple of pamphlets for him to look over. I remembered that he’d been anxious in his agreeable nod, thanking her a few times under his breath. And that had been the last of it before she’d moved on again.
A distal radius fracture. Multiple breaks in the ribcage. “The distal radius is the larger one of the two bones in the forearm. You suffered two fractures there, one on the distal end and another a little further up. It’s a very common break though and you were able to avoid any surgery on the arm. Though, it will take between six to twelve weeks to heal. And after that, some patients still find that they need physiotherapy to get back full usage of the wrist.”
I’d looked down at my hand in that moment. Stared at the cast which started at the centre of my palm and worked its way up to the crook of my elbow. The small cut I'd received in the shop earlier that same week had nothing on this.
It was my right arm too. Which only fucked me further, and I’d had to laugh at that. As though I hadn’t suffered enough. Now I had to forgo the next few months trying to manoeuvre through life and work with my left. fucking. hand.
I’d tried not to let that thought get to me in the moment. Focused on the fact that I could still move my fingers somewhat, even if they were swollen and a tad bit numb. It hadn’t helped then though and hardly reassured me now.
The detailed description of my ribs current state had followed swiftly after. Which explained the trouble I had breathing, as well as the severe burning pain I felt whenever I even thought about moving.
“It was just the three fractures.” Just, I’d wanted to scoff at her. “All on one side, most likely due to the first impact made by the car. Most cases of broken ribs can be treated with rest, icing a couple times a day and pain relief.”
The doctor had then gone on to explain about the breathing and coughing exercises she was going to have me do whilst I was under-observation. Something about preventing pneumonia or the sorts. Which had just been another thing I had ended up not having the heart to hear.
Although the fracture in one of my ribs had quickly waylaid her onto her next point. She’d actually had to pause when she’d come to it and really took the time to look me in the eye, her stoic and impersonal manner dropping.
I mean, the woman had been nice enough, she’d smiled when necessary and took the time to explain things to me in thorough detail, but she was also evidently detached, that much was clear. She didn’t want to get overly involved in my case. Couldn’t. But then, something had ultimately shifted. Even Matty had appeared to notice it, he’d clued in to the way she’d propped herself forward in her seat, the slight glance she’d gifted her colleague before she’d cleared her throat, eyes trained back on me.
She’d begun her account in a sincere but well-practiced tone, informing me of the injury that had been a result of my broken ribs. And as she had, I’d actually felt my entire world tilt on its head. And I only wished then to be floating again.
Splenic rupture. That one had been the toughest pill to swallow.
“One of the ribs on your left side pierced the spleen on impact but it only tore the organ further during transport I'm afraid. It had been hard to determine at first, the three breaks had been one of our first concerns and because of your difficulty breathing our first thought had been a collapsed lung. By the time we realised how much damage had been caused, after we’d witnessed a CT scan result, there was a large amount of blood that had poured into the abdominal cavity.”
I’d just stared blankly back at her.
“You were put under an anaesthetic rather quickly and rushed into theatre…”
“Surgery went well, although there was an altercation or two…”
“Tried to minimise scarring…”
“Risk of infection…”
“Future treatments..”
“Medications…”
I had tuned it all out.
Physically I’d still been there. In that room with her. And Matty of course. But mentally, my mind had been far away. Beyond even my own compression. It’d felt like I’d sort of drowned and the struggle to find air had suddenly stopped. Leaving me with just an empty head. No thoughts. No feelings. Nothing on the matter.
Just the fact that I had another scar.
And that, that made me feel like a walking voodoo doll.
—
My stay in the hospital was beginning to grate on my nerves. Slowly but surely I was starting to lose my mind. And I was so sure of it.
It had taken two days for me to come to the first time around. Two days since the hit, I mean. But now, I’d been here almost a week. Sleeping mostly, but bored beyond belief or in mind-numbing pain for the rest of it.
Ross had come to visit. He came daily, sometimes even twice. He brought food (sticking to what he knew best) and it often ranged from the chocolate pasties he knew I tended to drift towards in the Danish bakery up near his, to all of the sugar he could smuggle inside the lining of his coat.
He liked to keep me company too; told me all about the football, who was top of the league and what players were currently injured; kept me updated on how things were going with his mates down at the pub (the very blokey bloke types he’d always seemed to get along with); and whispered to me about all the hot gossip that was making its way around the hospital that he often caught wind of on his way up to the ward, and during his frequent visits to the vending machine.
Ross didn’t ask too many questions either and after his first frantic visit, I found myself wanting to ask him less and less too. He was also one of the fair few that still treated me like an actual person. The usual bullying and typical snarky responses were a very welcomed change of pace, as were those eye-rolls of his that he usually gifted me each time I had a coughing fit.
“Here we go,” He’d say with a put-upon sigh, slumping in the chair he tended to drag up beside my bed whenever Matty gave him the chance. “Always the centre of attention! I mean, can’t we just talk about me for once?”
Which only proved to worsen things because then I’d been coughing, laughing and spluttering all sorts of obscenities at him, all at the same time.
Yeah, it was safe to say that my doctors weren’t too fond of Ross.
Adam though, they liked. He popped in too, and brought Carly along with him whenever she could make it. Those two were oftentimes too empathetic in their visits though, which was sometimes hard to bare. But they’d also brought me my favourite kind of teabags and the lactose-free milk I opted for. As well as my own little kettle that they’d gone and plugged into the wall beside my bed for me- but only after I’d nonstop complained about the hospital’s lack of fulfilling drinks.
Their tea tasted like piss water was the shorter defence there.
But Hann had also been the one to bring me over some of the things I’d been missing from home, like my pillow, laptop and my charger- seeing as my phone had been dead since it’d been handed back to me in a plastic baggy, alongside an array of other things I didn’t much want to look at. Mostly just the clothes I’d been wearing the night of the accident.
It was a heaven send though, to be able to distract myself with a shitty Netflix series or the odd scroll through social media. Although I did have to limit my usage. Stop myself from googling questions I knew I wouldn’t like the answers to. Still, it had been a nice gesture in all, made even better by the comfort of finally wearing my own clothes and actual underwear! Instead of the itchy gown they’d had me in.
Though mentioning that, the one who knew me best, who I thought would be by my bedside, holding my hand, and making sure I stayed well-rested. Who soothed me during the moments of panic and disorientation. Who whispered quietly in my ear and held me close when the reminders became too much to bare, and when pain was all I could think about.
He was nowhere to be found.
Because Matty had gone and stepped into that role for him. For me, I guess. Sweet, chaotic Matty who could barely even look after himself at the best of times, and who’d spent most of his adult life revelling in the fact that he had no strings to tie him down. He was there for me. A constant.
Only ever leaving in a rush to shower and change so that he could make it back in time for when I had to take my medication.
Charming Lee into letting him stay long past visiting hours and having the sweetheart swindle him a makeshift bed that he could use, instead of the clump of chairs he’d converted into a shitty lounger.
Talking the rest of the patients into doing a bit of karaoke and dancing by my bed to keep me entertained. He’d even had Ross bring him his guitar so that we could sing together before lights out. Him crooning like he did best, me all muffled and croaky. Though he still claimed that my voice was as angelic as the last time he’d heard it.
Matty. My best mate Matty.
I didn’t think I’d ever been more thankful to have another human being in my life. Nor would I ever be.
So after prodding him with multiple questions on where George could’ve possibly been. What was keeping him away. And only receiving vague responses in turn, or worse, being easily distracted. I finally decided to give up.
Well. Not give up, per say. Just allowed Matty some peace and quiet. I knew it wasn’t his fault that George had been a no-show. That he’d gone and left me when I needed him most. So the questions had become less and less frequent, until I’d decided to not ask them at all.
“You sure you’re alright?” Matty repeated for what felt like the fifteenth time since I’d accidentally woken him that morning.
He was setting out my lunch for me, something I found infuriating but was also what kept his hands occupied and brain busy, he was eyeing me a bit strangely. Like he felt as though something was inherently off and he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I rolled my eyes, a fond smile limning my lips even as he pierced the straw through my smoothie’s carton for me.
“I told you I could do that.” I scolded lightly.
Matty merely hummed in reply, “Yeah, well you say that but you can hardly hike down your own knickers even after I’ve dragged you all the way to the loo, so…”
He snorted at my sudden glare, waving me off with a smirk as he handed me the drink and stole the sandwich the nurses had dropped off for me.
“What kind is it today?” I asked him, sipping at the smoothie that came with it whilst he plopped himself down on the other end of my bed, kicking his feet up near my uninjured wrist.
“Ham and cheese, I reckon. Maybe a bit of mayo but can’t be too sure. Stingy fucks these lot.” He retorted through a mouthful. I grinned and withheld a painful laugh.
This had become a bit of a pastime for us. Him stealing the sandwiches that I refused to eat, because they always seemed to line the bread with a crap ton of butter, which even thinking about had my stomach rolling. And him then critiquing every flavour to me.
Yesterday’s had been stuffing and egg, something that had had Matty grimacing even as he fought to finish the first few mouthfuls. He’d quickly given up on that one though and washed the foul taste out with one of the many cans of San Pellegrino he'd asked Hann to bring in for him. Prat.
“Anyway, you never answered me.” Matty mentioned again, bringing me back to the present. I hummed at him with only a tilt of my head. He rolled his eyes and prodded my hip with his socked foot. “Come on, something’s up. Can sense it, can’t I?”
I snorted softly at him, quirking a brow. “What, you become a self-proclaimed empath in the time you went home to shower?”
He flashed me a toothy grin which wrinkled his brown eyes. “Summat like that, I reckon.”
I huffed, shaking my head albeit in a measure of amusement. “Nothing’s wrong, Wonder Woman. Dr Mann even said I was improving, did she not?”
I wasn’t met with a reply though, so I glanced away from my smoothie and back towards Matty. I found him to simply be staring back at me. A prominent line etched between his brows.
“What?” I asked him with pursed lips.
It was his turn to shake his head then, looking away to gaze out the shuttered window. We were quite high up, 6th floor if what I can recall Ross saying is true. The sun was high in the sky, and there was not a drop of rain in sight.
I looked away then and kicked at Matty’s elbow. “Come on, what is it? You’re bein’ a right weirdo.”
He shrugged, chewing away, eyes still cast outside. “Just, you haven’t mentioned it is all.”
I frowned at him, unsure of what he possibly could've meant. “Mentioned what?”
Matty’s gaze pivoted towards me for a brief moment, looking for something I was sure, probably a a tell only he could make out. Then he shrugged at me again.
“Don’t worry about it, yeah?”
“Matty…” I tried, but my tired groan was cut short by the prominent arrival of Ross.
An angry looking Ross, actually.
I boggled a little at the sight, as did Matty who'd jumped around to see what had caught me by so much surprise.
“Matty. A word.” Ross demanded of the curly haired twat curled up by my feet, having stuck half his foot in the door and not had the common decency to even spare me a hello. What would his mother say?
“Erm, morning to you too, MacDonald!” I scoffed as I made a face, but it'd been futile seeing as Ross was already back out the door and pacing up and down the hallway. Matty patted my shin in quiet comfort and gave me an apologetic smile before he gestured his head over towards the hall.
“Best go see what he wants.”
And all I could do was watch as Matty left, still chained to this hospital bed. Once the door had dragged close behind him, I found myself with literally fuck all else to do. So, like the adult I was, I threw myself back into my nest of pillows and groaned pathetically. Wishing I could do more than just lie here day in and day out.
—MATTY’S POV—
“I’m gonna fucking kill him, Matty.” Were the first words Ross spoke to him as Matty slipped out of the room, catching him mostly off guard.
Ross was hardly ever the aggressor. In actual fact, he was one of the most tolerant guys Matty had ever known. It truly took a lot to get him to crack, or even tell you to piss off, let alone this riled up. He didn’t actually think he’d ever been witness to Ross’s ire, but reckoned he could easily check that off the list now though.
Matty blinked for a moment then cast a chance glance back through the glass and towards his best mate. The girl who was currently holed up in a hospital room with a frown as huffy as it was prominent. It was hard seeing her like that, so broken. When in actuality, she was the toughest fucking person he’d had the privilege of knowing.
Cut deep.
“Right,” He dipped his chin and took a much needed breath before he ushered Ross a little farther down the ward, away from the room's entrance. Not wanting her to hear or see the state Ross had seemingly worked himself into, although Matty could already guess what the cause would be. “What’re you playing at? You can’t storm in here like that, mate.”
Ross groaned into the palms of the hands he dragged harshly over his face, tugging on his temples for a second before he dropped them altogether. His shoulders were still tense though, practically touching the lobes of his ears.
“Yeah, yeah ‘course, sorry.”
Matty jerked his nod back down the hall. “No need for that, ‘cause you, man, are gonna be the one dodging all her questions when she ultimately starts asking what that was all about.”
Ross almost came very close to pouting then. Matty was sure of it, if only it hadn’t been for that fiery wall of anger he was still shrouded in. “Really? Alright. Fine, yeah fair. Deserve that much, I ‘spose. Just- I’m beyond fucking livid, mate.”
Matty’s brow pinched. “Why, what's happened?”
“What didn’t, you mean.” Ross scoffed, back to pacing in his big boots. Matty just hoped that none of the morning staff came to see what was causing the sudden commotion. They already seemed to hate the pair of them enough.
“Alright, mate. Just, I don’t know. Start with what’s got you so…” Matty shrugged a hand aimlessly towards his bearded bassist.
Ross tugged another hand through his long hair, loosening the bun he had it in by a tad.
“I don’t know where to start, to be honest. Maybe with the fact that I’ve tried everything. Fucking everything! Phoning, texting. Even passed by his a couple times. He won’t open the poxy door. Won’t answer Jamie or Hann either. I went over again this morning- saw some shit on Twitter last night so I reckoned I might find him there. Stole that spare key from you too, like you said, and tried using it on the locks but the prick’s only got the chain on. Latch too. So I didn't make it far.”
Matty was already chewing at his lower lip. Something he’d found himself doing more and more often as of late. Ever since that sodding fucking phone call, the one he’d almost missed. He could still hear George’s muffled cries now. The sirens. The pleads. Then the apology.
His hands shook even as he recalled it all. Fucking coward.
His attention was swiftly brought back to the present when Ross started up again, only getting more and more irritated the longer his story went on.
“So, like the twat I am. I sat outside his all morning. Just managed to catch him dragging himself home, though. Don’t know how the fucker had gone and locked himself out from the inside but, well, it’s G ain’t it?” He said through gritted teeth, “Looked a right state, too. Still halfway to pissed and smelt a bit. I mean, is he deluded? She’s in here. Whilst he’s off, doing fuck knows what, out there! It’s an utter piss take, mate. Everyday she asks after him, asks if he’s doing alright, if things are okay. And he, he could not give less of a shit.”
“Hasn’t today.” Matty found himself mumbling, dark eyes casted out towards the lifts as a familiar itch passed through his veins. Which was convenient because just as Ross went to question him on it, Hann stepped out through the sliding metal doors.
The man paused, catching sight of them just as the lift closed behind him. “What’s going on?” He asked with a furrowed brow.
“George.” Ross muttered with venom.
Whilst Matty sighed “Nothing.” at the exact same time. He simply shook his head dismissing it all when Hann approached them. “Where’ve you been anyway?”
Hann’s sharp gaze darted between the pair of them before he answered, “Was on the phone to Jamie most of this morning, then popped by to talk to Y/n’s boss. Lovely woman, actually.”
A real grin stretched its way across Matty’s face at the mention of Delia. “Isn’t she just?” He fawned.
Hann gave him one of those famous smiles of his and then proceeded to hold up a bag. “She mentioned she’d be stopping by again soon, but wanted me to bring this over.”
Matty’s attention dropped down to the bright bag, a prominent ‘Get well soon!’ engraved in gold on its side. “Nice of her. Did you get the stuff I asked for too?”
Adam rolled his eyes and moved his right shoulder, showing off the other bag, this one a duffle. “Yes, all here. Don’t stress.”
He went to reach for it when Hann’s eyebrows did a weird sort of dance on his forehead. Matty pulled a face at it and glanced over at Ross, who was still acting a bit aggy with his arms all crossed and nostrils still flared. Though Matty couldn’t fault him. He was still rightfully pissed off too.
“Tell me what’s gone on and then you can have the bag.” Adam bargained, receiving a pair of narrowed eyes in return.
“Drive a hard bargain, you do.” Matty huffed, falling back against the wall as he gestured outwardly towards Ross. “Was gonna tell you anyway.”
Hann merely hummed at him, dropping the bags between his legs as his head rounded on Ross. “What’s G done now?”
Ross’s jaw ticked and he went on another ramble, rehashing things to Hann in a bit more detail before Matty had to stop him.
“Where’s he at now then?”
“Passed out back at mine.” Ross told them, though he didn’t appear too happy about that fact. “Fucker had me drag him back to my car, wouldn’t move from the curb otherwise.”
Matty tucked his tongue between his front teeth, mind whirling. He hadn’t been to George’s yet, hadn’t wanted to leave the hospital let alone the place where everything had happened. He could only imagine what torment George has been faced with having to look at it day in and day out.
From what Ross had told them, the road had been fully blocked off until late afternoon the very next day with police patrolling and removing the vehicle from the scene. Matty grimaced at the thought of it all and listened to the quiet tones of Hann’s voice trying to calm Ross down. He deemed the moment as the easy access he needed to grab hold of the duffle and head back down the ward, deciding not to think too much about it right then.
Adam’s tut echoed and followed after him. Matty threw him a smug smile from over his shoulder.
Now it was time to get to work.
Part fifteen>
#the 1975#george daniel#george daniel the 1975#george daniel fic#george 1975#george daniel x reader#matty#matty healy#george daniel x you#1975#best friend matty#the 1975 band#fic#adam hann#ross macdonald#carly holt#1975 band#matty 1975#series#work#exes to lovers#y/n#reader#multi part fic#x you#x reader#angst#laugh#fluff#humour
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I LOVE your military whump prompt list! It's really helped my writer's block! Could I request a part 2 please?
Of course!
Military Whump Prompt List 2
Character A and Character B have grown close as siblings in arms. It just recently came out that Character B is a spy.
A sniper who grows too physically weak to leave their outpost.
Stray bullet hits a sniper's scope, exploding with the metal, plastic, glass and all.
Character is forced to eject themselves from a plane, knowing they'll have to paradrop deep into enemy territory
Leader type wonders into a building turned medical facility searching for one character in mind. Their heart stops when reality returns to them, seeing rows and rows of occupied beds.
Ally goes to score some trinkets off of one terrifying absolute unit of an enemy. They assume by the battered bullet proof vest, and slumped position that they must be dead. The look on their face, when enemy's hand snatches them up quickly.
Character A and Character B don't get along due to cultural difference from nations, despite being on the same side. They more likely to kill each other, then the enemy.
Character finds their world deafened after surviving a bombardment of sorts
Enemy rescues Ally, and is pretending that Ally is comatose just to bide them time from interrogation.
Ally helps people cross into safer territory, today they find a deserting enemy asking for their aid
Character takes off obscuring helmet, only to reveal a brutal looking bloody nose
Character drowning in mud as rain pours into the battlefield
Character needs dire medical help, but can't get it from fellows from their own country, and instead find themselves being patched up by unfamiliar voices of allies.
Allies teaching each other bits and pieces of language, culture, and more at each others side. When shit hits the fan, Character A can only identify Character B by what they've taught them.
Character thrown onto their back by the weight of their gear
Enemy and Ally put aside their differences to help a shared friend
Soldier is saved last second by a dog
#military whump#whump#whump prompt list#prompt list#military whump prompt list#whump prompt#whump prompts#whump ideas#whump military#soldier whumpee#redd answers#whump stuff#whump scenarios
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That's All She Wrote - Chapter 28
Chapter Index
Find me on wattpad + ao3!
Chapter 28: Five Minutes to Midnight ~ 25k
hi! this chapter is a collection of short stories - time skips are denoted by "~" and story changes are denoted by "***" :)
tw: mentions of underage drinking
The day after Christmas, the largest snowstorm the Midwest had seen in 30 years subsided, and Big Time Rush, their assistant, and family members were able to get their flights rescheduled so they could spend some time back home before the new year.
Though Roxy and Declan had to part with the boys, Katie, and Mrs. Knight at their flight gate, it didn’t stop the young writer and her boyfriend from a parting goodbye that felt as though it belonged in an old black and white movie. To an onlooker, it might have seemed as though James and Roxy would never see each other ever again when in reality, he was flying to Duluth and she was flying to Green Bay.
Somebody had to collect the ancient Somerset family truck, Dynamo, from Wisconsin, and Roxy certainly wasn’t going to make her father do it alone, especially after his wonderful holiday surprise of meeting her in Los Angeles so they didn’t spend Christmas apart. Despite it adding five more hours to their travel time to Duluth, she was more than happy to spend it with him.
More than once on the way to the airport, Roxy asked James to come with her and her father to Green Bay, but he unfortunately had to decline the invitation. He assured her he’d much rather spend the time with her, but his father was already made aware of their flight plans and was going to meet him and Carlos at the Duluth airport to take them both home.
So, the pair had a dramatic farewell - James being entirely over the top as he quietly double-checked to make sure his girlfriend had taken her air sickness medication and Roxy clinging to him so tightly she probably left a few crescent-shaped indentations on his skin from her nails - and after a deep kiss and lots of groans from their friends, the two groups managed to go their separate ways through the bustling airport.
Admittedly, the songwriter was quite worried as she and her dad passed through the large crowds of people. This was the first time in her life she’d be taking a flight without James and that wasn’t sitting well with her. Even if he hadn’t been there for her on their first two flights, their solo trek back to Los Angeles at the beginning of the summer had been far different.
Of course, Roxy hadn’t realized it at the time, but It would be impossible for her to ever forget the jitters she felt when he held her hand during take-off or the way he checked on her whenever she finally felt well enough to weakly lift her head off his shoulder. Despite what felt like the entire world crumbling around them as they had jettisoned back out to California to work with a criminally insane record producer without their best friends, he had stayed awake the entire red-eye flight to comfort her as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.
While she reflected, she could feel the smile tugging at her lips. I love being the center of his attention.
Just as the pair of them happened upon the correct gate, C10, Roxy heard her father mutter something as he stared out of the large, floor-to-ceiling windows. At the base of the plane they’d be traveling on, the luggage handlers were roughly loading everything into the spacious haul, including two identical black guitar cases.
“What was that?” She said teasingly, nudging him with her elbow as they continued to stare, watching as their items rode up the conveyor belt and into the luggage compartment.
Declan blinked before guiding his daughter to a few open seats in front of the airline help desk. “I said ‘This is why I hate flying.’ On top of the damn ticket check-in an’ obnoxious TSA screenings an’ ridiculously priced coffee,” He gestured to a small cafe in front of them advertising seven-dollar lattes, “They don’t even handle your things with care! He just threw a 300-dollar guitar on the belt like it was nothing!”
While his complaints were entirely valid, Roxy had known him more than long enough to know none of those reasons were truly what was riling him up. As they sat beside each other, she noticed his bouncing leg and tight grip on the armrest beside him. That, mixed with his fast-paced rambling and thickening of his Southern accent, told her one thing. Her father, the bravest man she knew, was anxious and she was pretty sure she could figure out why.
That explains why we’ve never flown anywhere together…
Roxy had figured it was simply because flying was expensive; She and her father hadn’t ever vacationed far from home - Always to locations within acceptable driving distance. But now, watching him fiddle with the zipper on his carry-on, she couldn’t help but chuckle.
Another nudge. “That’s the only thing you hate about flying?”
“I don’t care for the tiny, crowded seats, either.” His voice was barely heard over the hustle and bustle of other airport patrons around them.
“You’re so pessimistic.” She rolled her eyes.
“Well if you want me to say something nice, I suppose I can’t complain about the little peanuts they give you.”
“Those are only good if you can manage to keep them down.”
Finally, eyes widening, Declan caught drift of what Roxy was trying to get at. Apparently, airsickness ran in the family.
“No… Not you too, honey bun…”
Slowly, she nodded. “It would’ve been nice of you to warn me of that before I got on my first plane!”
“I was hoping it had skipped a generation. Sucks all the fun out of goin’ places, doesn’t it?” When he finally turned to face her, watching as she placed her carry-on luggage between her knees, he nervously rubbed one calloused hand over his tattooed forearm. “There’s only been three times in my life I’ve been on a plane. Once, your grammy took me to Disney World when I graduated eighth grade, then when I chased Dana from Austin to Duluth, and then again, yesterday, to meet you here.”
Grammy. Dana. Two people her father rarely mentioned, but both of them in one go? Unheard of.
Roxy swallowed, letting his words sink in. It was hard to figure out what to say whenever he brought up people from his past. Neither of those individuals were people he spoke to anymore, for good reason in her opinion, so the subject was always a bit touchy. For a moment, she wondered if her grandmother would be proud of the man he had become since cutting her off seventeen years ago.
She certainly was proud of him; There wasn’t any man on Earth better than her father.
“We’re tied then.” The girl settled on, ignoring the people Declan had mentioned entirely, reaching out to place one hand over his to help ease some of the tension. “Twice to LA, once to Duluth. They tried to get me on a plane during tour but I flat-out refused and took the bus cross-country instead. But you learn a few things when your job requires such consistent travel…” Using one hand to flip open the black flap of the mini backpack in her lap, Roxy rooted around for the small white capsule containing the Dramamine Mrs. Knight had offered her before their departure. “Take a few of these. It won’t really help, but sometimes it’s enough to trick your body into chilling out for the first half hour-ish. We’ll get through the rest together.”
Shockingly enough, Declan sighed, accepting the small tube from his daughter and swallowing two of the little pills dry. Then, slinging a lazy arm around her shoulder, he pulled her into a small half-hug. “That’s my girl. So grown up, jet-setting across the States with her pop band… You hardly need me to take care of you anymore, huh?”
That was true, she felt, and she admittedly had for quite some time, but she’d never, ever let him know that. It didn’t change their relationship in the slightest; It didn’t affect just how much love she had for him. “Don’t be silly, Dad, I’ll always need you to take care of me.”
~
Both Roxy and Declan had a miserable flight to Wisconsin, running to opposite sides of the plane like clockwork to take care of their sickness. Whenever they returned to their seats, however, they had a brief period of respite where they were able to weakly hold a conversation or talk about something that had been going on in their separate worlds.
Secretly, Roxy wished James were there, but respected the commitment he and his father had made to meet back in Duluth. Through most of her nausea, she couldn’t concentrate on much else, but when her head was clear enough, she sometimes wondered if he thought it was a chore to take care of her when they had flown back to Los Angeles together. The thoughts were unwelcome and hard to neglect, but she chalked it up to her illness as she burrowed into her Dad’s shoulder - when he was around at least - and tried to focus on the rock music flooding through their shared headphones.
Declan’s playlists always brought back welcome memories of the times he’d picked her up from school, the special songs he’d taught her to play on the guitar as she was growing up, every time he’d play music trivia with her while they made dinner together. The hold music had on both of their lives was simultaneously the same and vastly different, shaping who each of them were while together and apart. All the comforting feelings from the familiar guitar chords and rebellious lyrics eased the girl greatly, eventually allowing her to ward off her ailment enough to close her eyes and nod off for a while.
By the time they arrived in Green Bay, the pair were more than ecstatic to get off the plane as quickly as possible, and take one more trip to the bathroom, before gathering their additional luggage and guitars. While the hustle and bustle of this airport was nothing like LAX, it was still busy regardless, taking even more time to get to the parking garage from the influx of people heading out of the baggage claim. Each moment that ticked by where she wasn’t getting any closer to Duluth was a moment Roxy began to miss her friends even more.
It was strange, being so connected to the band she physically felt an emptiness when they weren’t near each other, but unsurprising. Those four had a way of digging into her heart since the very first moment they’d met and had been subtly carving themselves deeper and deeper with each passing day.
Aren’t you supposed to get tired of the people you spend every single moment of every single day with? She thought to herself, half-joking to try and dull the ache.
When they finally found the ancient, rusty blue truck in the airport parking lot, Declan realized something was bugging Roxy, so he let her pick the music for their long ride home. That was something he always did when she was in a bad mood; It was an unspoken invitation to talk it out or leave nothing said as they simply enjoyed each other’s comforting company to the sound of a background track.
First, she dug around in Dynamo’s glove box while her father took his place behind the wheel. Most of the tapes they had each made were in there, the ones they’d deemed travel-worthy anyway, along with the truck’s registration and various, small emergency supplies. The collection she had managed to pull out on her first try yielded one of the first tapes she had ever made - All her favorite songs from about five years ago - and the mix her dad had made for her to listen to as she was growing up. Each of them held 45 minutes on each side, so they’d have enough time to listen to both, and she popped in the cassette her father constructed to listen to first while he started up the vehicle.
After a few turns of the key, Dynamo’s engine loudly roared to life with a shutter that reached the entire cab. Another familiar feeling, one she certainly didn’t ever get in the Pontiac, as her father pulled the car out of its parking spot and the two began the journey home.
The idle small talk they had been making stopped the moment the first song began to play through the old, on the verge of blowing out speakers.
Being the music-obsessed man he was, of course, the first song Declan had chosen for his daughter’s tape was “Roxanne” by the Police. Not only was it one of his favorite songs of all time, but it had been the inspiration for her name.
“A musical name for my musical girl,” He’d always told her whenever he played the song for Roxy when she was younger. “This one was on the radio when I received the best news of my life…”
Declan claimed to have made many mistakes as a teenager, but assured her that listening to this song always reminded him that his life had turned out on the right track. Without “Roxanne” he’d never have fallen in love with music, he’d never have started his own band and discovered the emerging punk scene in his hometown of Austin, Texas, and without that, he’d have never had Roxanne.
When Roxy was old enough to begin to understand the lyrics and asked him what it meant to “put on the red light,” it had originally been to make him squirm, get him to admit that he didn’t really think about what it meant to name her after the song. Her rebellious phase hit quite swiftly once she turned thirteen, but dissipated about a year after, so now, she’d sometimes ask him randomly, for fun. In those cases, he’d ruffle her hair and make up a new absurd lie each time; Something silly and stupid, never truly telling her what it meant, though he knew for a fact she knew.
She suspected this song had something to do with her favorite color being red.
Leaning her head in the crook of her arm and staring out the window as they flew down the highway, Roxy reached for the dial and turned the volume up a few notches, but asked, “Tell me what putting on the red light means again?”
“Aren’t you listening to the song? She’s clearly using the light to interrupt a secret spy code!”
“Roxanne the spy does have a nice ring to it… Roxanne de la Rouge!”
He didn’t respond after that, though he did crack a small smile, simply tapping the wheel to the drum beat and checking the road signs to make sure they were on the right track.
The more cars they passed, the heavier her eyelids felt. Flying always took a lot out of her - Far more than she cared to admit. By the time the second song rolled around, “Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve?)” by Buzzcocks, she was in and out of consciousness, thinking about how much she couldn’t wait to be back in Minnesota with her friends. At song three, “Real Cool Time” by the Stooges, she realized what a strange thought that was, considering months ago, that had been her worst nightmare.
Wherever we are… As long as we’re together, was her final conclusion, before slipping off to dreamland.
~
They stopped halfway home to have lunch at a diner off the side of the highway. It was a much-needed break, and a good idea for the pair to refuel at the gas station on the opposite corner, but in the blink of an eye Declan and Roxy were back in the truck, motoring as quickly as they could to get back home.
The grease dripping off of Roxy’s burger had settled nicely in her stomach, making her crave something from Duluth’s Bun In A Million; Still trying to wrap her head around the fact she was excited to be back in the Midwest.
By the time her tape of songs had run out, she hardly even noticed, spacing out as she stared at the miles of farmland whizzing by her window. Wordlessly, her dad reached out across the center console and nudged her to pull her out of her daze, pointing to the glove box.
Popping the small compartment in front of her open, Roxy blinked a few times to focus her attention and began to push various papers and items out of her way to find the other tapes they had stashed in Dynamo. It wouldn’t be so messy if he had just bought the tape organizer I told him to…
When her hands finally found something plastic under a box of bandaids, she pulled it out to discover a cassette she had never seen in the car before. Instead of the standard black of the blank tapes Declan had scattered all over their house, this one was bright white, with his smudged handwriting sprawled across the top.
BTR
Roxy could hardly contain the grin curling her lips as she hastily popped her mix out of the car’s stereo and inserted the recording of her band’s first album. Though it took a few seconds to play - Declan had never been the best at making pristine recordings - by the time the intro to “Big Time Rush” started she could hear his deep laughter standing out against the melody.
When their first album had been released, she had been sure to send a signed CD home as a testament to her songwriting ability. Though she had assumed her dad had tucked it away somewhere for safekeeping, she’d never have guessed he would’ve made a tape of it to listen on the go. When the first chorus hit, Roxy learned something else: Declan knew all the words.
It was almost enough for her to erupt in a fit of giggles, listening to him unabashedly belt out his declaration to go “big time” and at the bridge, she decided to join him in singing while playing air guitar to the chords she’d written her first night in Los Angeles.
The pair continued like that, through “Famous” and “Any Kind of Guy” and then the rest of the tracks, all the way to the end with “Stuck” when they were interrupted by the sound of Roxy’s phone going off.
Now “Boyfriend” was attempting to get into the song mix, with the writer swiftly taking her phone out of her back pocket and turning down the car’s stereo emphasizing the riff coming from the tiny cell speakers. A picture of her and James on their second-first date lit up her screen as she accepted the call.
“Hello?”
“Hey, babe! Just wanted to let you know we all made it home safe and sound.”
It wasn’t lost on Roxy that her dad snorted at James’ words; She mustn’t have had her speaker volume turned down enough.
Shifting the device to her right hand, she slugged Declan on the shoulder. “Ugh, I’m so jealous. We’ve still got about two hours left, I think.” By the way the sun was beginning to shine directly into her eyes, she guessed, “Probably won’t be back until way after dark.”
On the other line, she heard some background deliberation meaning James was probably with Kendall, Carlos, and Logan, and it took a second for him to respond, “The guys and I are going to kick it at Carlos’ for the night, think you can make it?”
How are they so go, go, go…
“As much as I’d love to, jet lag is kicking my ass. It’s time for a much-needed night in for me.”
“Suit yourself!” He laughed before lowering his voice. Roxy could practically imagine him turning away from his friends and cradling his phone to his ear while he said, “Let me know when you make it to town. Since I’m not there to kiss you goodnight in person I figured I could-”
Immediately, her cheeks flushed before remembering where she was. “O-okay! Yes, I’ll… do that. Bye!”
His confused, “Bye?” hardly made it through the speaker before she ended the call, scrambling to put her phone back into her pocket and pretending to be very interested in the small town she and her dad were passing through out the window.
Declan shuffled a bit, the aging leather of Dynamo’s seats letting out a squeak in response. Soon after, “Stuck” ended and Roxy heard him flip the tape over to a live version of the unreleased “This is Our Someday.” A recording he must have made at their hometown concert over the summer.
Though she much preferred the guitar piece she had written for the live show, she hoped her dad would enjoy the studio version just as much.
While the song played, Roxy still stared out the window, trying to work through the complex emotions of being embarrassed by her unsuspecting boyfriend in front of her father. We sure are on a roll this week…
“He’s good to you, right?”
The girl felt her eyes widen, letting the question rattle around in her brain for a minute before sighing, “Dad…”
Music turned down to zero, Declan asked her again.
“I’ll call Jo and Camille. The three of you can deliberate on it,” Roxy tried to quip, wanting to have literally any conversation but this one with her father. If she could sink into her seat and disappear at this very moment, she probably would.
Leather squeaking again, Declan blew out a large puff of air. “Seriously, Honey Bun. Teenage musicians, they’re-”
“I know!”
Like really. I know. Not that her father ever needed to hear about Dak Zevon. If that went anything like their conversation after her fiasco with Mag last year, he’d probably end up with his face plastered on wanted posters on every street corner of California.
“Roxanne,” Declan said softly. “Please. Even with you living all the way across the country, I’m still your Dad. I gotta make sure.”
His daughter crossed her arms, pulling her knees up to her chest even with the uncomfortable seat belt cutting into her collarbone. “Yes, James is good to me.” Though that alone felt a bit unconvincing, and she audibly swallowed before following, “More like, perfect to me. He listens to me ramble about songwriting, always makes me feel like I’m the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, we never fight… We spend as much time together as possible and I’m really happy being with him.”
For someone who writes love songs… Damn, that was cliche.
“Okay, alright… Thank you.” Her father conceded, seemingly content with the answer she had given him. There was a beat of silence before he gripped the steering wheel tightener, “And you’re being safe?”
“Dad!”
Her exasperation was enough to get him to finally let out a little chuckle, “He’s your first boyfriend, Roxy! A boy and a musician. I’ve just gotta double-check!”
“We’re not-” The writer stopped herself from saying anything else in immediate response, doing her best to understand where her father was coming from. More than anyone, he understood her situation best. He had been a teenage boy and a musician - one who often proclaimed he hadn’t been safe when he was her age. His questions weren’t to annoy her, he just needed to fuel his peace of mind. “The last year has been the best year of my life. I’m not going to do anything that puts my future in danger.” Roxy turned away from the window, finally glancing over at her dad to catch his solemn nod of understanding. “And one day this might be easy to talk about, but it’s fresh, and it’s new, and… you’re my dad.”
Declan nodded again, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck at the response he had elicited from his daughter. “Yeah… Sorry for the ninth degree. I just love you. Loads.”
“Sorry for snapping back,” She mumbled, but she knew he didn’t care. As much as they’d pushed each other's buttons in the past, he’d never, ever been angry with her. “And I love you too.”
Catching his half smile as he kept his eyes on the road, Roxy felt herself begin to smile too. She had forgotten just what it felt like to have her dad around, and now the excitement of being home wasn’t all that confusing anymore.
She didn’t miss being in Duluth, she missed being around her father.
***
Finding something to wear to a show was always a struggle for Roxy. Back in Brand New Day, an old band t-shirt or flannel, some skinny jeans, and black boots were practically a uniform worn at every single gig. While on the Big Time Rush tour, her options were equally as simple - Something cute, matching whatever colors the boys were wearing that night, that didn’t make her stand out in the slightest. But to a basement show in her hometown? Nothing in her closet seemed like the right way to go.
She hadn’t even been planning on going to one over the holiday break, but she had run into her old lab partner, Catherine Endicott while at the grocery store earlier, and she wasn’t ever one to pass up an invitation to enjoy the local music scene. So many incredible bands and musicians had come out of Minnesota; It would be a shame to miss out on potentially seeing the next big thing right as they got their start.
“Bob Dylan, The Replacements, Hüsker Dü, Big Time Rush… Minnesota is crawling with musical talent,” She rambled, twisting her hair up into a large claw clip and letting the ends stick up, framing the top of her head like a spiky crown, while speaking to a spaced-out James. “Now we get to see Cait’s band, Under the Bleachers!”
It sounded like he was humming along to the OneRepublic song on the radio station he’d picked, sitting on top of her messily made bed while she dug through her closet to try and find something she’d feel comfortable in.
Fashion was always a mixed bag at underground shows, and that had never really bothered her before, but she’d found she favored more colorful and trendy outfits than the experimental and quirky style she often saw at house gigs. Typically, she’d just wear whatever and bolster the strange looks because she’d be with her dad - in his own grunge style - and he’d ward off any unwanted glances or sly comments. But going with James, the poster boy for everything mainstream, would not afford her such grace.
So… Blend in but make it my own… She determined, reaching all the way into the back of her closet for the punkish outfits she used to wear while she was in Brand New Day. It felt like forever ago now, but that had been her style when trying to fit in with Mag and Dani at their shows, but these days, not so much.
“So we’re going to see a show by a band you’ve never heard of because someone you kind of know invited you?” James asked, clarifying the situation she had hurriedly explained to him on the phone as she’d come home from the store. Of course, he had been more than eager to bike over to her place in his “alternative” outfit - which to him was a pair of nice black jeans, a black v-neck, and a black jacket - but was having some trouble grasping the concept of seeing an artist they didn’t know.
Even though he couldn’t see her buried in the back of her closet, the girl nodded as she slid hanger after hanger toward her to check out all her options. “Duh. Most of the people at our first show didn’t know who we were either, but they came because of our amazing advertising!”
Oh… Good times, Roxy fondly recalled running around L.A. handing out as many Big Time Rush fliers as she could and inviting anyone to their show that would stop long enough to listen. Brand New Day’s advertising strategy had been similar, but she also had the power of the airwaves to help her out at the Project Pop radio station.
Taking in her words, James continued humming to the radio, as Roxy’s fingers landed on a long-forgotten t-shirt she had been keeping tucked away for a special occasion. James’ first basement show seemed like as good a time as any, and she managed to pair it with a short, red skirt and a pair of black fishnet tights.
As quickly as she had found it, she ran into the bathroom to change, feeling much more like herself than she had figured she would as she admired her picks in the large mirror. Not only was this her first concert with James, but it would also be her first underground show since she left Brand New Day. A part of her was irrationally worried that she’d see Mag and Dani there, but Duluth wasn’t that small a city, and Cait hadn’t mentioned running into them during their brief conversation earlier.
Then again… They did show up at the Palm Woods…
“When you say ‘we’ are you talking about Big Time Rush or your old band?” She heard James call through the closed door, just as she managed to slip the final component of her outfit on; A gold chain belt cooly rested against her exposed midriff after she’d tied up the shirt, matching the charm necklace hanging around her neck.
Aside from the time Kendall had stolen her journal and passed it off to famous internet blogger Deke, that had been the first time he’d asked her something regarding her musical past. Not that she didn’t mind sharing - with him at least - the question simply caught her off guard. Despite a long-standing friendship, their relationship was still in the beginning stages. Roxy’s heart skipped; It was nice that even after knowing each other quite well, there was still much for them to learn about each other.
Slowly opening the door to the bathroom and making a beeline back to her closet for a pair of black boots, Roxy considered her next words carefully, “Yes to both; But each time we did a significant amount of advertising. Word of mouth does wonders in any town… Ergo, we’re seeing Cait’s band.”
When she finally turned around to find the jewelry box on her dresser, she felt James’ eyes glued to her as she crossed the small room. It made her chest flutter, knowing he couldn’t stop staring at her, and just for fun, she used it to her advantage as she coyly glanced over her shoulder and shot him a wink before picking out a pair of matching earrings.
“Rox…” He almost whispered, and the springs of her bed groaned as he stood up. In response, he brought a fist to his mouth before clearing his throat and she didn’t miss the unmistakable dusting of pink blushing the top of his ears. “I know you’re going to be freezing but is it bad that I don’t care? I never want you to take that off…”
In the vanity mirror she was using to check her outfit, she noticed he crept closer while he spoke, gaze suspiciously targeting her legs. When he reached out to wrap his arms around her, she playfully evaded his grasp with a nicely timed side-step.
“Oh, my God!” Roxy cried, cutting into his sentence with a few uncontrollable snorts of laughter and an accusatory finger, meeting him in the middle of the room. “You’ve got a thing for fishnets!”
She watched James freeze, glancing up at the ceiling fan lazily rotating around. In response, he let out a few beats of an innocent whistle before rocking back and forth on his heels. “Whaaat! No!”
Acting against his words, his hand reached out to grab hers at the same time his gaze flickered down just long enough to give her another once-over, noticeably lingering on her tights. When the writer opened her mouth again to tease him, he beat her to the punch and changed the subject, pointing to the old black and white band t-shirt she had tied up above her navel. “Who’s Dec and the Desires? Never heard you talk about them before.”
Another question that made her giddy, and she grinned as she laced her fingers between his and pulled him into the living room toward the front door, making sure to grab a lighter from the kitchen junk drawer on the way out. “An underground punk band I love. They were really big in the late 80’s and early 90’s in Austin, Texas. Though, I figure you can put the rest together yourself, considering you know the lead singer.”
It seemed as though her words confused her boyfriend for a moment, as they stepped out of the Somerset’s one-story and out onto the freezing streets of Minnesota. Of course, James had been right, and Roxy was freezing, but Cait’s house was only a few blocks away. She could brave the cold in the name of fashion.
Besides, I’ve got my own personal space heater…
“I do?” He asked, eyes darting around the empty driveway before his brows knit in confusion.
Roxy carefully tugged him toward the mostly snow-cleared sidewalk, silently letting him know they’d be walking to their destination instead of driving; Someone had been caught up at work after taking an impromptu day off on Christmas Eve and kept Dynamo out late. “Yes, baby. Dec… and the Desires?”
James blinked, either still confused or taking in the pet name he wasn’t quite used to as he followed her lead.
Oh my…
“Declan?” She tried again, doing her best to keep from shivering too much as she and James traversed the icy path. “Somerset?”
“Oh! Your dad was in a band like you?” The genuine curiosity in his voice made her melt a smidge and she snugged his arm into her chest as she practically pulled him down the street to Cait’s. “I didn’t know that, Rox! Kendall and I talked his ear off about sports backstage when we could’ve been asking for music advice! He’s way nicer than Gustavo.”
Her heart involuntarily squeezed at the thought of James feeling comfortable going to her father for advice. “Yeah, they were really going places. Headlining local venues, sending for record labels, lining up an independently run U.S. tour, until…” She paused, realizing she’d never spoken with anyone besides her dad and old band about his small stint in the music industry. Until me. “He’ll talk your ear off about the glory days if you’d let him.”
“It’s neat that the two of you have so much in common… My parents always had to drag me to stuff about Brooke Diamond Cosmetics - Thank God that’s all over,” James nodded, slinging an arm around his girlfriend as they walked. Try as she might to contain her shivers, he could feel the involuntary shakes and goosebumps riddling her arm under his fingertips. “What did I tell you about being cold?!”
Roxy knew he was changing the subject so she wouldn’t ask any follow-up questions about his statement. In all the time they’d known each other, this was the first in which he’d willingly brought up the company his mother ran. Besides, the writer had only made the connection that he was the Brooke Diamond’s son during an interview on the band’s summer tour - If James had wanted her to know that sooner, he would’ve told her.
Just as he was interested to learn more about her past, she was curious about his, but decided not to push her luck as they traveled on to Cait’s. James would share when he was ready and that was perfectly fine with Roxy.
~
They hadn’t even been in the crowded, boiling basement for 10 minutes when a guy around James and Roxy’s age, dripping in metal spikes and heavy chains, came up to them, asking the latter if she was ever in a band because she looked “kinda, sorta, super familiar.” The show wasn’t even close to starting yet.
The writer shrugged him off, playing with the rim of the red Solo cup in her hand when she brought up Big Time Rush - knowing full well that wasn’t what he had meant by his question - and introduced him to James who was far more versed in interactions like these. Just as quickly as the guy had come to speak with them, he wrinkled his nose at the thought of meeting a member of a boy band and disappeared into the sea of people around them.
Five minutes, and Roxy’s nervous downing of her drink later, someone else stopped by the couple and asked her the same question. Though she wanted them to stick around a bit and ask for a few tips on how they got their sharp-edged eyeliner to stand out so nicely against their dark eyeshadow, her response was the same as before, as was the individual’s when she brought up the pop band she wrote and composed for.
James, bless his heart, looked a bit uncomfortable with the sheer amount of people packed into the small space and stuck close to her side as she navigated them as best she could around the small space. Despite pouring him a cup straight from the ice-bathing keg’s tap in the corner closest to the entrance, he had declined the drink - “Need to bike home, babe,” - and passed it off to the girl in line behind them.
Then, she asked Roxy if she’d been in a band as well.
Just the thought of anyone associating her with Brand New Day made her nauseous, so she used to boy band line again, and the young girl scurried off to her group of friends, shaking her head at them as if they’d all been wondering the same thing.
Ignoring the slight shake in her fingers as she reached for her boyfriend’s hand, Roxy told herself she brushed off the questions only because Brand New Day was openly establishing themselves as a duo now that they’d moved to Hollywood and signed with Galactic Records. Telling someone she used to play with them might make her look like a liar, or worse, a delusional fan girl.
Yup, that’s totally worse than being a liar, she decided, squeezing James’ hand for comfort while waving in and out through the mass of individuals to try and get to the center of the room. I never want to be associated with them again.
“We’ll be able to hear the best from here!” Roxy assured James as they’d reached the middle of the crowd, having to raise her voice over the noise level, even though she couldn’t see where Cait had set up the instruments over everyone standing in front of her. In her opinion, the only downfall to house shows was the absence of an elevated stage. “Think you’ll be able to see alright?”
The question was inherently dumb; One look over the cramped space told her he was one of the tallest people there - excluding those who had used an insane amount of hairspray to hold up their hairdos and those in platform shoes.
Instead of answering her question, James squeezed her hand back before warmly saying, “You’re famous.”
No question mark, no hesitation. Spoken as though it were the truest of facts.
Taking another sip of her drink, Roxy held it on her tongue for a moment, letting the pungent taste linger before swallowing while she considered his words. Then, the sickly feeling from before returned, heartbeat drumming uncomfortably in her chest, and her immediate reaction was to deflect his statement. “You’re the one in a boy band.”
“No one’s asked me if I was in a band tonight.”
“No one here listens to that kind of music.”
When James realized he wasn’t getting anywhere with this conversation, he sighed and shifted his attention forward to the non-existent stage, while his girlfriend realized how combative her words were coming off. Which, unfortunately, they were designed to be. Brand New Day was the last thing she’d wanted to think about at the show tonight, but he wasn’t asking to be a bother. She knew that, But this wasn’t the setting in which she wanted to have that conversation.
It had just been a long time since she’d considered her past in the Duluth music scene. She never handled the unwanted feelings about her old band members and stolen intellectual property well, as evidenced by the slightly mean tone she’d taken with him.
Though she thought she was over it after she vowed to move on after her last encounter with Mag and Dani at AM LA, actions certainly spoke louder than words.
Roxy took another sip of her drink, starting to feel the beginnings of a buzz itch at the back of her brain. Way to go Rox, drive off the one guy you’ve managed to keep around...
Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, she felt James squeeze her hand again. “Did you play a lot of shows in places like this? How could you stand the distinct… skunky and sweaty smell?”
Saying a silent prayer of thanks he had moved on from the previous line of questioning, Roxy felt her rapid breathing begin to slow.
“More than I could count. Dani’s basement was a bit bigger than this one, though, but most times we’d jump in on someone else’s show if we begged them hard enough,” She shared in earnest, trying to tell herself it wouldn’t be as bad to talk it out with someone she cared about. “Loved every moment of it, too.”
By now, she had finally worked up enough courage to glance up at her boyfriend in the low light, finding him raising an eyebrow at her comment.
“Even the skunky and sweaty smell! Got used to it after a while… But you,” Roxy reached up and poked at his cheek with a loose giggle, “You’ve been venue spoiled. Free snacks and gifts, clean green rooms, crowds of thousands screaming your name… Lucky, lucky boy.”
“That I am,” James assured her, bending down to press a much-wanted kiss to her cheek to let her know everything was alright. “Sounds like you get free drinks at shows like these though. That’s not a perk of our job quite yet.”
Of course, his timing was perfect to when she went to take a sip of her drink, causing her to nearly spit out what little she had left as she snorted a bit of buzz-induced laughter. “Only if you’re friends with the homeowner or you’re incredibly cute. So both of us are in the clear tonight, superstar, because those jeans you’re wearing make me wanna-”
The distinct ringing of microphone feedback surged through her ears, immediately cutting her off from her train of thought as Under the Bleachers took their places at the front of the room and soon, it was replaced with the deep kick of the drum echoing in her chest, carrying over the second-hand speakers. Wasting no time, the band jumped straight into their first song, leaving her little choice but to pull her boyfriend down for a quick kiss against the beginnings of a guitar melody meant to promise there was much more in store for him later.
~
Lucky for James, Roxy cashed in on her silent promise about halfway through the set when the ear-splittingly loud music had thoroughly rattled her brain and she had managed to finish off her second cup of beer. The room was warm, sure, but he’d wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her closer a few minutes ago, and the temperature prickling her skin reached inferno-like levels just from his touch. Be it the heightened state she had found herself in, the adrenalin rush of her first show in so long, or the fact Cait’s band wrote excellent make-out music, Roxy had dragged James out of the crowd to the back of the room and spent most of the set’s remaining time pressed up against the basement wall with her lips locked onto his.
That was, until the most pit opened, of course.
When the show ended, she nearly cried, but allowed James to navigate them up the staircase and out into Cait’s backyard with everyone else, before eventually making it back out to the sidewalk and heading in the direction of her house.
“Tonight was perfect!” She yelled without regard for the late hour, throwing her head and hands back as the sound echoed off the houses on the road they took. “Can you believe Under the Bleachers are so, so, so good? We should call Gustavo - He needs a girl band and they need a record contract! An album too, lots of albums. So many albums…”
The heat of the basement had almost made them forget the below-freezing temperature outside, but Roxy could hardly feel it as she twirled down the sidewalk, humming what she could remember of the songs they’d played. At some point, her boyfriend had given her his coat, but she didn’t remember when.
When she almost hit a metal mailbox on the street with her hands, James poorly tried to conceal his smile as he caught her around the wrist and pulled her into his side, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Careful, crazy girl. I know you punks like to break stuff, but let’s keep the damages to a minimum.”
At his statement, she squeezed her eyes shut and stuck out her tongue, shaking her head at the notion. “Not a punk! Not even close!”
Roxy managed to pop one eye open and glance his way, noting the way his head tilted to the side, bottom lip stuck out. It made her giggle.
“Wanna know a secret?” She said, fully intending to whisper it in his ear, but she was too busy continuing to stare at his mouth to focus on her volume. The pair had split her last cup of lukewarm beer; The relaxation it brought had caused her newfound loose lips. “I just like the music, making me the world's biggest poser! I’m not connected to the culture at all; Not like Dad.”
Hand moving up and down on her arm to spark some heat, the perplexed look on James’ face remained. “You think? From what you said earlier it sounds like the two of you were in pretty similar situations. Playing the shows, writing the music, connecting with others around town… Sounds pretty punk to me.”
“He and his band wrote about real issues,” Roxy blurted out, still failing to find the balance between what she should and shouldn’t say. There had been a reason she’d needed to share her last cup with James - The looseness had traveled to whatever part of her brain filtered her speech. “Racism, religious conservatism, labor rights… Shit was bad and they were able to channel it into a musical act of protest. All I ever managed to write about was stupid, trivial teenage stuff to pair over a punky-sounding guitar riff. I still do that, just.. Poppy now.”
James didn’t say anything for a moment, and when she turned to look at him as they rounded the corner of her street, she swore she could see the gears turning in his head. “It’s all about self-expression, though, right?”
A good point - one she hadn’t been expecting him to make. In fact, that had been something she had neglected to realize all night, despite that being one of the core tenets of the genre.
“Getting in touch with your emotions, writing them out, being brave enough to share them… That’s hard for a lot of people, Rox.” The hesitation in his voice made her feel as though he was speaking from experience, but she certainly wasn’t in a state to ask him. “Whether or not you think it’s punk is up to you, but I think it’s pretty extraordinary.”
There were only two times in her life Roxy could remember being rendered speechless - The first time her dad played her Definitely Maybe by Oasis and the first time she’d met Dak Zevon - and now, this was a conversation she could file away in that folder as well. He wasn’t known for always saying the right thing at the right time, but she internalized his words, playing them over and over in her mind as they approached her front door. While she did, her heart was pounding to the point of ache, almost as though it were attempting to break free from her chest and make a new home for itself in James’ hands.
Just as she was figuring out how to respond, he continued with a crack of a smile, “Especially extraordinary when the song you write is about me! Perfect subject matter for my perfect songwriter.”
***
On her third day home, Roxy woke up with a raging headache.
I should’ve listened to James… was her very first thought, muttering out a curse at her last-night self for not drinking the glass of water he had grabbed for her before he’d left to go home. Two and a half cups typically didn’t affect her, but it had been quite some time since her last show.
Through sleep-blurred eyes, she blindly reached out to her bedside table, flailing her hand around to try and find the glass, but her hand managed to catch a small paper note instead. Pulling it close to her face, Roxy had to squint to make out her boyfriend’s beautiful script as she ignored the pounding in her brain.
Hope you drank this - If not, you’re in for a fun day tomorrow.
Asked your dad to tape the afternoon episode of MacKenzie Falls so you wouldn’t miss it if you slept in btw. Not sure how he feels about you drinking, but he gave me the stink eye when I walked you in. Hope he doesn’t blame me.
Had a great time tonight, thanks for inviting me. Can’t wait til our next show.
XX Superstar
Though the note was sweet, she cringed at the silly nickname she’d given him before the show started. In her defense, she wasn’t thinking all that clearly, but someone who works with words for a living certainly should have been able to come up with something more eloquent than Superstar.
Oh, well she told herself, before throwing the covers off her body, not realizing the rapid motion would only aggravate her headache more, and greedily chugging down the tall glass beside the note. I’ll feel better after a shower.
And she did, mostly, after she adjusted to the bright white lights of her bathroom, though the ache in her head was slowly starting to carry down her arms and legs as the bruises from last night’s mosh pit began to fully form on her skin, blotting in dark clusters of greens, blues, and purples.
When Roxy caught the damage to her body in the large mirror, it should have worried her, but instead, she ran a few fingers over them, careful not to poke them any further, and smiled. The sign of a good show…
By the time she had dried her hair and picked out her warmest winter outfit to see if her dad wanted to go for a walk on his day off, her cell phone began to ring, buzzing about 20 times louder in her ears thanks to her headache.
It was a struggle to run from her bathroom all the way to her bedside table to turn off the smooth guitar solo of “One of Those Nights” by the Eagles, meaning Kendall was waiting for her to pick up the phone. It had been tough to pick out a song for his ringtone, considering how he had almost zero music taste outside of his own band, but during their guitar lessons, he’d asked her how quickly he’d be able to play the tune currently traveling through her speakers, so “One of Those Nights” it was.
Flopping back down onto her bed, Roxy pressed accept and brought the cell to her ear. “Hello?”
“Roxyyy!” Kendall called, and his assistant winced at the sheer volume of his excited tone. “Two questions: Guess who passed their driver's test? And did you bring your skates home with you?”
“Katie passed?” The girl deadpanned, letting his snort carry over the line before she responded, “And yes, I did. I figured I might get dragged back onto the ice at some point.”
“Well, I know you suck at skating. So, as a payment for all your guitar lessons, allow me to help show you how we hockey heads master the ice!”
“Dude! Not all of us were born with ice skates strapped to our feet!
Roxy focused on the insulting part of his statement and could almost hear the Knight smirk crawling across his lips as he continued, “Exactly! Which is why you and I are taking advantage of Duluth’s finest frozen lake this afternoon.”
While that did sound like loads of fun, Roxy still had more questions about his plan than answers. “And what does this have to do with you getting your driver’s license again?”
“My mom’s taking our van downtown to hang out with some of her friends.”
“And?”
Kendall coughed. “And I was hoping… In celebration… That the world’s best songwriter-assistant would let me drive her ancient truck around town a bit before we hit the ice.”
“Why do the four of you think you can just drive my cars around whenever you want?”
“We can stop by the grocery store and I’ll buy you this month’s Pop Tiger.”
“Deal! See you in 20!”
~
By the time Roxy had followed Kendall's texted instructions for how to get to his place from the main road, it was nearly too late for her to realize her beaten-up truck was almost out of gas. So, when the blond opened the driver's side door and his assistant slid over the bench seating to the passenger side, she was more than happy to pass Dynamo off.
“Driving a car is a huge responsibility,” She told him jokingly, attempting to put on her most authoritative voice as her friend climbed behind the wheel, tossed his skates and two hockey sticks in the backseat, and adjusted the mirrors. “Taking care of the car is just as important as taking care of yourself. Making sure there’s wiper fluid, getting the oil changed every 3,000 miles, making sure there’s enough gas in the tank…”
Rolling his eyes, Kendall was quick to combat her words with a “Yeah, yeah, Rox, I already know all that junk,” but she watched his eyes flicker down to the dashboard to check all the lights and gauges before putting the car into drive, narrowing. “You’re not getting anything but a magazine off me.”
“Isn’t it your mom who always preaches love and kindness and helping others whenever you can?” His assistant hummed against the stereo, observing the idyllic houses they passed by as they exited Kendall’s neighborhood.
“Roxy-”
Without thinking, she immediately cut him off to pretend as though she was reading a sensationalized news headline in one of her favorite magazines, “Kendall Knight, international pop star, refuses to help Big Time Rush’s number one fan after she grants him a massive favor!”
There were a few seconds without a response, Roxy’s tape still spinning in the background, before Kendall sighed, “You’ve got to stop hanging out with Katie.”
“Now you don’t want your sister to have a talented, confident role model to look up to?”
At the very least, that comment elicited a bit of laughter from her friend, who reluctantly turned the wheel to pull Dynamo into a gas station once they found themselves closer to town. “Talented? Undeniably. But confident…”
When she glanced over at him and noticed his raised brow once he’d parked in front of an open pump, she reached over the console and shoved him in the shoulder when she couldn’t hide her own grin, “I’m going to start charging you for guitar lessons, asshole.”
Dynamo’s ancient door screeched open. “Any chance I could get a friends and family discount?”
The last thing Kendall heard before closing the door was a very loud snort, “You wish.”
~
Thirty minutes, and what she suspected was likely Kendall’s form of payback, later, Roxy was regretting her jokingly harsh words as she stood stranded in the middle of the large frozen lake he had taken her to. “I’m sorry! Hear me? I’m so sorry! Lessons are free for life! And I won’t complain when you don’t practice between sessions! And I’ll stop making you play songs only I like!”
As the blond whizzed by her, going so fast and getting so dangerously close to where she stood she almost slipped off her skates, he just cackled before skating off in a new direction, looping around, and doing it again. He was running circles around her, even managing to spray some ice her way and add to the chill creeping into her bones purely from being outside in the Minnesota winter, but still looked completely in his element.
The only time she’d been to the ice rink with the boys had been after their exhausting battle with Mercedes Griffin to secure their spot as Rocque Records sole band after their demo tracks had been completed. Though it had been ages ago, and Roxy had spent most of her time attached to James while he helped her scoot around the rink, she remembered the high speeds at which her friends had sped around the arena as they played their own version of literal freeze tag. She could only imagine what they’d look like at a hockey game, weaving in and out between each other and their opponents, slapping the black rubber puck back and forth around the playing field.
While that sounded more like a nightmare to the writer, she could see the determination in Kendall’s narrowed eyes as he skated around, even if it was only to torture her, and the pure power it took to have even an iota of control over his direction, speed, and balance. Even without the pressure of a cheering audience, a stick in his hand, or the pounds of gear covering his body, she knew he was pushing himself to do his very best; The same look often appeared on his face during Big Time Rush’s dance practices.
To Roxy’s credit, she wasn’t completely stuck either. Kendall had been kind enough to give her some basic pointers when it came to skating on a natural surface, so she didn’t have to spend the whole time clinging to his arm, but at the rate he was zooming around, she was worried if she moved, she’d find herself right in the middle of his path and collide into a big bloody mess. So, she resigned herself to bundle into her red puffer jacket and wait until he finished having his fun.
Which he did after about a dozen more laps around his assistant.
“Come here!” He called out to her, finally coming to a stop by the edge of the ice. It was close to where the pair had trailblazed through the small section of wood from the parking lot, so he had dropped the hockey sticks and puck he’d brought in the snow bank.
Slowly but surely, Roxy managed to get herself over the rough, yet slippery surface without falling, and though she didn’t know a thing about playing ice hockey, she was happy for the small amount of stability the stick granted her once she took it from the blond.
The writer watched as Kendall scooped the puck up from the powder it rested on and flicked his wrist, throwing it out over the ice like a frisbee before he took off after it, with the same determined look he had before. In a flash, he’d caught up to it and slapped it across the lake with a tight snap! before glancing back over his shoulder to see where Roxy had gone.
“What’s the hold-up?”
Roxy blinked, still leaning on the stick in her grasp for support. “Uh… Am I supposed to be chasing it too?”
Throwing his arms up in exasperation, Kendall waved his stick above his head, “Obviously! This game isn’t fun with only one player.”
“It’s not much of a game when you’re leagues faster than me!” She protested, almost catching herself off balance when she tossed up the hand holding the stick.
“Well, how else are you gonna get better?”
Ugh, she grumbled before tentatively pushing off her back leg, how am I supposed to dispute that? “Who the hell died and made you coach?”
Not her best rebuttal, but one that left her feeling satisfied all the same once she finally reached his side.
In an instant, he took off after the puck again, and this time, she followed.
“Daniel Rogers, beginning of my sophomore year,” He quipped, though Roxy could barely hear him as the distance between them grew. “And not coach - captain!”
When he finally reached the puck across the way, he shot it back in Roxy’s direction, and she did her best to hit it right back. Unfortunately for her, however, she completely whiffed it, and while the puck sailed right past her, the sheer force she had attempted to put into her slapshot sent her tumbling to the ice. Had she not been so roughed up from the night before, it probably wouldn’t have hurt so much when she connected with the solid ground.
The shock to her system ran straight from her backside and through her spine; Roxy sucked in a sharp breath of air.
Seconds later he was by her side, hockey stick clattering to the ground as he hauled her off of the ice and back onto her feet like it was no big deal. “Jesus, Rox, take it easy!”
First, it’s “How else are you gonna get better?” Then it’s “Take it easy!” Familiar heat of embarrassment climbed up her body, and she hoped if Kendall noticed any splotches of red forming on her skin, he’d chalk it up to the frigidity of the weather. With a weak smile designed to mask her wince as she found her footing again, she joked, “Probably not a good idea to make me goalie, Captain.”
“Oh, I’d never dream of it, believe me,” He whistled, letting go of his grip around her arms once he was sure she’d be able to stand again. “Carlos Garcia is the best damn goalie this town has ever seen… There’s no one else I’d trust in front of the net. They don’t call him “Shutout Sensacional’ for nothing, you know.”
“They call him what?” Roxy giggled in response, half at the silly title and half at Kendall’s complete butchering of the Spanish term, though she certainly wanted to know more. “Do all of you get nicknames?”
Grinning, Kendall began to skate toward the puck again, and this time, his assistant eagerly followed after him. Still not as fast, but at least the distance between them was respectable this time.
“It doesn’t sound as cool when you put it like that,” He huffed, managing to shoot the puck back toward her, much slower this time so she actually had a chance at passing it back. “James is Pretty Boy for obvious reasons and Logan is ‘Tensie on account of how tense ‘e is and-”
When the blond cut himself off, Roxy assumed he was refraining from sharing his as she finally managed to rear her stick back and sent the puck flying his way, “Oh, yes! Did you see that?! I did it!” The smile lighting up Kendall’s face as he took off toward her poorly aimed pass made her light up equally as bright, “But that doesn’t mean you don’t tell me your nickname either, Captain!”
When he caught up to the puck, instead of shooting it her way, he kept it in his possession as he raced back toward her. His moves were similar to before, circling around her as quickly as he could, all while keeping the puck under the control of his stick.
“Surrounded!” Kendall said between breaths as he went around again and again.
Still coming down from her high of managing to get a pass in, Roxy chuckled at his actions, having half a mind to hold her stick out and catch him off guard if he wanted to keep annoying her. “I know I’m surrounded! Don’t wear yourself out there, Cap. I might be able to get the puck away from you after a few more circles…”
Kendall came to a dramatic stop, kicking up more flakes of ice with his skates as he turned his feet to angle the blades and threw up a peace sign with his free hand. “You misunderstand. Two words: Sir. Rounded.”
“Oh, a little knight pun. How adorable,” His assistant scrunched her nose up as she teased him. “Very clever use of your - two words - Sir. Name.”
Bringing his stick to hers with an annoying crack, Kendall signaled it was time to start up their game again by sticking out his tongue at her equally terrible pun. “Catch me if you can, Roxstar!”
As quickly as they could, Kendall and Roxy kicked off their back legs and staked off toward the puck, blades carrying them across the ice faster than ever before.
Maybe Kendall’s right… I am getting better at this.
~
It took forever for Dynamo’s archaic heater to kick in once the singer and his assistant climbed back into the truck’s cab, placing their skating and hockey equipment in the backseat before peeling out of the parking lot and heading back toward town.
“So, are we planning on picking up Shutout Sensacional, Pretty Boy, and ‘Tensie? We haven’t hung out together in a while,” Roxy asked, digging through the truck’s glove box to try and find a tape she wanted to play on their 20-minute journey. By “a while” she’d only meant a few days, but the five of them were so used to being around each other all the time, it was almost strange they hadn’t done something together in Duluth.
Drumming his fingers along the cracked wheel, Kendall sighed, “Would you believe me if I told you I was a bit worn out? I’ve lost my stamina…”
“Boo hoo.” Popping a cassette into the player, Roxy turned the volume dial a few notches to the right. “It’s been a while since you’ve been on the ice, man, cut yourself some slack.”
“Oh, that reminds me! One of the guys on the MAHS team, Hawkins, is throwing a New Year’s get-together on Thursday. Think you’d wanna come?”
Taking in the gorgeous sight of the snow-covered pine trees on the side of the highway, Roxy tilted her head, “A normal get-together or a Big Time Rush get-together?”
“Definitely a Big Time Rush get-together; His parents are out of town,” He replied, which was just codeword for “party!”
Slowly, the writer nodded. “If he doesn’t mind the four of you taking a plus one, I’d be happy to come.”
He kept his eyes on the road, but Roxy could just imagine the sparkle mixed in with the foresty green of his irises at her answer. “Sick! All the guys are going to be so stoked to meet you.”
At that notion, Roxy felt her stomach flutter. James had learned plenty about her last night, voluntarily and involuntarily, and now it was her turn to get to know more about him through his friends at Mountain Aire. “It’ll be nice to meet some of the people I was supposed to go to high school with,” she mused. “I didn’t really get to know anyone during my first few weeks there.”
“Everyone on the team is super chill for a bunch of guys that play a pretty violent sport. They’ll be sure to tell you all the embarrassing stories about the four of us they can.”
“Thank God. You boys all tell the same stories over and over again. I’ll be glad to get some new ones to make fun of you for…”
Kendall scoffed before reaching out and poking her in the arm, “If you dish it, you better be prepared to take it!”
In response, Roxy blew a raspberry. “You have to be nice to me or I’ll stop writing your songs!”
“Oh, whatever!” The blond huffed over the soft music. “You’d never do that.”
“Yeah… You’re right. Never, ever,” She giggled back, realizing she may have threatened that one too many times now for it to hold any weight.
By the time the pair made it back into town, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the road ahead in a soft golden glow. It was hard to imagine they’d been out for most of the day, but the aches beginning to set into Roxy’s legs certainly reminded her of the time they’d spent on the ice. While fun, skating was cruelly physically demanding.
No wonder they can dance around on stage for hours and make it look easy… Roxy got winded just thinking about it.
After a quick stop at the Sherwood to pick up her promised magazine, and an unpleasant encounter with Kendall’s old boss who practically begged him to take the night shift, the pair pulled up to the Knight’s abode. Grabbing the stuff from the back seat, the frontman reluctantly slid out of the driver’s seat and out onto the street while his assistant took her rightful place behind the wheel.
While waiting for him to enter his house before driving off, Kendall was cut off on the small section of cleared sidewalk by his little sister, dashing in the direction of Roxy’s car.
“Roxy, Roxy, Roxy! I need you to take me somewhere!” Small cross-body purse slung across one shoulder, Katie Knight tore down the path and into Dynamo’s passenger seat so swiftly it made the writer’s head spin.
Are all of the Knights that fast?
When Roxy didn’t respond quickly enough, Katie poked her in the arm, “Please? Please?”
Whatever it was, it must have been urgent. Katie usually avoided begging whenever possible, often choosing more surefire ways of getting what she wanted, like blackmail.
When she looked beyond the young girl, to Kendall through the window for some sort of answer, he just shrugged, then trudged back into the house before closing the front door.
“Uh, does your mom know you’re going out? It’s kinda late, Katie,” Roxy cautiously asked. She had no issue taking the young Knight anywhere she wanted to go, but Mrs. Knight was quite strict when it came to her kids and their curfews. Hell, Mrs. Knight thought Katie still needed a babysitter; There was no way she would cool with her daughter taking off at this time of day.
Katie and her brother rolled their eyes in the exact same annoying way, “Mom’s still out with her friends. She won’t get mad at you and she won’t get mad at me… Unless I get caught.”
Gripping the steering wheel, Roxy narrowed her eyes.
“And I’ll buy you the new edition of Pop Tiger!”
“Oh,” The writer loudly sucked in a breath to bug the girl sitting beside her. “Your brother beat you to it. It’s a good edition too - Joe Jonas mini-mag inside and everything, so don’t tell James! He’ll try and steal it from me.”
“Please?” Katie tried again, and the older girl made the mistake of glancing her way.
She knew better than to fall victim to the girl’s puppy dog eyes, but as Katie stared her down and puffed out an equally sad pout, Roxy felt utterly horrible for protesting. Big brown teary eyes and a quivering bottom lip really got to her, and Katie was certainly using that to her advantage; Even reaching out to the stereo’s controls and switching the music from one of the cassettes to a classical music channel that just happened to be playing a sad symphony.
That was the one thing that didn’t fly with Roxy, “Fine! Just leave my radio alone!”
Next to her, Katie hissed out a “Yes!” while eagerly clipping her seatbelt in, beaming, as the writer switched the settings back to how she liked them.
“Where to then?” Asked the driver, feeling a bit like a chauffeur, placing the car into drive.
Picking up her purse, Katie shook it, making what sounded like a large collection of coins inside clank together. “The arcade!”
***
Tucked away on an old, pothole-ridden side street in Downtown Duluth, the retro Lunarcade had been in operation for as long as the writer could remember. While she’d only been a handful of times with her father, and once at the end of the last year for a birthday party Dani had thrown, it always looked and sounded exactly the same.
Rows upon rows of aged video games filled the small hole-in-the-wall, flashing bright colors and releasing attention-grabbing sounds to try and draw in anyone who walked by. Newer games toward the front, older games toward the back, and a row of pinball machines right down the middle.
“This place hasn’t changed a bit,” Roxy thought out loud, finding it difficult to hear the thoughts in her head against the chatter of patrons, the pop station playing on the speakers overhead, and the sounds from the machines. Examining the space to try and remember where her favorite games were, she narrowly missed Katie darting off between the rows as if she were a bat out of hell.
The writer was a bit taken aback, I’m not that unpleasant to be around… Am I? before resigning to the fact that when she was Katie’s age, she also never wanted to be around her father whenever they went places together. Being right on the cusp of her teenage years while not quite able to be independent quite yet was probably hard enough for the young girl, so Roxy let it go, digging around in her mini backpack to try and find her wallet.
Of the few bills she had, she headed to the counter to break them and was greeted by a nice, young woman who happily gave her a small plastic cup full of quarters in exchange.
Soon enough, the writer was lost in a world of pixelated graphics, joysticks, and button mashing as she roamed up and down the aisles, stopping at whatever machines caught her eye. The narrow pathways were almost impossible to traverse, especially when multiple people crowded around a machine, but she managed well enough, expecting to bump into Kaite at some point.
While not much of a game player herself, she still had some fun, especially on a handful of the older machines she and her dad used to play when she was younger. She had even passed a few she remembered playing with Mag and Dani, stopping at her favorite, Space Invaders. Last time she was here, she’d set the high score and had been met with an eruption of celebration from her friends but now, as she popped her quarters into the coin slot, all she received was the game’s soundtrack.
Thirty seconds later, her character was dead, and she let out a displeased grumble. Not only was she out of practice, but when the score screen flashed by, she noticed ROX was nowhere to be found in the top ten.
Another handful of quarters and she performed better this time around, but still nowhere good enough to put her name up on the board with her Space Invaders-loving peers.
So there she stayed, until her quarter well ran dry, and she nearly kicked the leg of the machine out of frustration.
Maybe it’s time to back off… She cautioned herself, resigning to pull away from the restored rectangular machine and weave through the aisles to the snack counter for a consolation prize. Some M&M’s or a Peppy Cola should cheer me up…
As she rounded the corner, she accidentally bumped into a kid holding two canned sodas and managed to save one she knocked out of his hand from falling to the ground.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” She told him, making sure he was balanced again before handing the cold can back over. “Are you alright?”
In response, the boy just smiled, running a hand through his dirty blond hair before taking the can back. “Yeah, all good. How about you, Miss?”
“All good,” Roxy parroted, waving one hand to show it was no big deal. “The pop should be alright, but if it explodes when you open it, come and find me. I’ll get you something else.”
As he opened his mouth to respond, someone cut him off. “Ray? What’s the hold-up?”
From one of the rows leading to the snack bar, a familiar voice called out to the boy Roxy presumed she was talking to. When she looked up from the boy in front of her, she and Katie locked eyes, and the young girl turned as white as a ghost - Save for the red forming on her already rosy cheeks.
No way…
Ray looked over his shoulder, a wicked grin forming on his face, “Hey! Sorry. I just bumped into this lady here. If you shake up the can before you open it, she said she’ll buy you a second one.”
“That’s not-”
Before Roxy could get another word out, Katie grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the many, many rows of the arcade, presumably hoping to get lost among the flashing lights and sounds again.
Forgetting her own quest for a snack, Roxy’s hand immediately flew to her back pocket, whipping out her phone and pressing the first number on her speed dial.
When the dial tone connected, she didn’t even wait for a greeting before she exploded over the receiver, “James, you are never going to believe what’s happening to me right now!”
His garbled, “What?” came through the speaker. “Is everything alright?”
“I think I just took Katie out on her first date!”
~
The car ride home was eerily silent, with neither Katie nor Roxy saying anything at all. No one even bothered to turn the radio on.
While she turned off the side street and back onto the main road, Roxy glanced over to Katie and tried to hide the obnoxious smile that had practically been plastered on her face since her realization Katie might have been on a date. There was nothing on Earth she wanted to talk about more at this moment; How they’d met, who asked who out, what she liked about him… On the other hand, it was clear Katie wanted to talk about anything else, based on the way she gripped her seatbelt until her knuckles were white and stared out the window.
It was oddly reminiscent of the conversation she and her father had while on their road trip, except now the roles were reversed. Roxy made a mental note to apologize to her dad again later.
After a few more minutes of speechless agony, Roxy decided to break the silence. “I’m not going to ask you about it if you don’t want to talk about it…”
No response from Katie, just another thousand-yard stare out the window.
“...But I promise if you do, I won't tell your brother anything. That’s kind of a central tenet of girl code.”
The mention of Kendall seemed to make the girl tense up again, so Roxy decided to drop the subject entirely. If her words were going to do more harm than good, the least she could do was shut up for the remainder of the ride.
With a soft clearing of her throat, Roxy switched the stereo on as she navigated back to the Knight’s residence. “What Goes Around…/…Comes Around (Interlude)” by Justin Timberlake surrounded them and the writer eagerly hummed along.
Not even halfway through the song, her passenger reached out and switched it off - which still annoyed the shit out of Roxy - before letting out a large sigh.
“How did you know you liked James?”
The driver blinked, the question catching her off guard, and she glanced over to see Katie looking back at her with wide eyes. She’d never been this vulnerable with her before, normally all of Katie’s questions were about the entertainment industry or asking if Roxy wanted a new manager in six years.
As she thought back to the beginnings of her relationship, a bit of heat licked up her spine. Was it embarrassing? Sure, but Katie had asked in such earnest, that it would be wrong of her not to share.
“Well…” Roxy began, struggling to put her feelings into words. “I realized I liked him when we flew back out to Los Angeles together. He was so determined to make his dream a reality, which was inspiring in itself, but he was also very adamant that I was along for the ride with him.”
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Katie nodding, but the young girl didn’t say anything, so she continued on.
“He took care of me on the flight over, he comforted me the first night in our apartment, he stood up for me at Hawk Records… And when we reunited with the other guys at Rocque Records he was just so happy. When I saw his smiling face it just… clicked. But, honestly, I think it took me quite some time to figure that out. Maybe… I’d liked him since the night of the dance, but I was too stubborn to let myself realize it.”
More nods, but at least Katie had uncrossed her arms.
“And, he’s not too bad on the eyes…” Roxy joked, reaching over to elbow her friend when she finally snorted out a laugh. “Whenever we’re in a room together it’s like we gravitate toward each other. And, God, Katie, he makes me laugh all the time, and my heart beat at a million miles an hour, and when we kiss-”
“Alright! Enough! Enough!” Katie cried as her hands flew to cover her ears, sticking her tongue out in disgust followed by an overexaggerated “Blegh!”
Her reaction made the writer crack up so hard that she nearly missed the turn into the neighborhood, whipping Dynamo around the corner far faster than he was built for.
“You asked!” She protested, just to bug Katie again. “But in all seriousness… It’s hard to describe - I just know that I do. I can’t imagine my life without him. I don’t want to imagine my life without him.”
That statement was followed by more silence, and Roxy feared she may have gone a bit too far with her answer, until Katie shifted around in her seat, playing with the zipper on her purse. “I don’t think I like Ray like that.”
“And that’s perfectly fine! That’s what dates are for, to give you time to figure it out.”
“If he asks me out again, what do I say?” This question was asked in a far less confident manner.
Just as they pulled up to the Knight’s, Roxy put the car into park and turned to face the girl, “You tell him the truth. That you had fun today, but you’re just not interested in him like that. If he cares about you, he’ll understand.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
Roxy’s heart sank at the thought, but she played it off as best she could with a smile, “Then you call me or your brother and we’ll wrangle the other three up. That goes for anyone who doesn’t give you the respect you deserve, okay?”
“Okay!” Katie agreed, finally seeming as though she was getting back to being her normal self. When she nudged the door open, she stepped out and turned back to Roxy, “...Thanks,” and shut it before the driver got a chance to respond.
“No problem,” Roxy chuckled to herself as she waited for Katie to get in the front door. Her drive home was also absent of music, but only because she was too busy thinking about James and all the reasons she loved being with him to notice.
***
When she got home, her dad had dinner on the table and the two shared a lovely meal as they recapped their days. By the time they’d finished, Declan migrated to the living room and flipped on a TV movie to watch before promptly falling asleep fifteen minutes in like he usually did. The only thing he ever managed to stay awake for these days was football.
Taking a spare blanket from their linen closet, Roxy draped it over him before turning the appliance and lights off before heading to her room for the remainder of the night.
Once she finished cleaning up and changing into the PJs the boys had bought her, she noticed a collection of text messages on her phone’s home screen from Jo and Camille.
J: Free soon? Miss you both and want to talk
C: yes! give me five to get away from this hectic house and I’ll set up a conference
J: Yesss!
J: Roxy? Yoo hoo?
C: probably too busy macking on her boyfriend…
R: HEY!
R: AM NOT!
R: EVEN IF I’D REALLY LIKE TO BE!
J: BWAHAHAH
R: But yes! I’m free! Call!!!!
A minute later Camille’s ringtone, Beyoncé’s “Crazy In Love,” came through her phone’s speakers and the pair exchanged an excited greeting. They only paused their chatter for a moment while the actress added Jo to the line and waited for her to pick up, only for their greetings to repeat.
All three of them were buzzing with information to share about their respective trips; So many things had happened over the last few days that were just too difficult to convey over a text message.
Jo and Camille elected Roxy to go first, mostly because they wanted to hear about Kendall and Logan. While Roxy hadn’t heard much from her studious friend since he’d landed back home, she was happy to share about their chaotic Christmas saga, her date with James, her skate session with Kendall, and most importantly, Katie’s date.
“...So yeah, we might have to give her the dating talk when we all get back to Hollywood. Only if she brings it up again! It seemed like it was hard for her to talk about,” Roxy concluded, as she cradled her phone between her cheek and shoulder, filing her nails. She was long overdue for a manicure. “Which color should I go with? Blue or yellow?”
“Blue!” Jo answered at the same time Camille responded, “Yellow!”
The three erupted in a fit of giggles.
“We’ll keep a lookout for guys her age at our auditions, won’t we Jo?” The ravenette asked.
“Duh! I’m pretty sure there’s a guy on the fifth floor she plays video games with, too. Kendall was pretty suspicious but I managed to convince him otherwise…
As Roxy began to apply the first coat of paint, alternating colors on each finger, Camille went next. Her holiday had been chaotic as well, but purely because of the sheer amount of people her family had decided to house in New Windsor, Connecticut. On top of Camille, her parents, and five brothers, they had three additional guests in the five-bedroom home which made it virtually impossible for anyone to get any peace and quiet.
“Things are dying down, so it’s not all that bad. Gabriel and his husband are leaving tomorrow, so we’ll be down two. My mom almost had a fit though - crying about how she never gets to see them.”
Camille’s oldest brother and his husband lived in upstate New York, both plastic surgeons with busy, busy schedules. She had said it was a miracle they’d even been able to get a few days off to come down and visit.
“Elliott, Claude, and their roommates Roshan and Asa are staying until January like me. Even that was a lot for her to take in. She’s acting like we’ve already left! I have no idea what she does while we’re all gone but I know it drives Jules and Jean-Luc crazy.”
Elliott and Claude, twins, and their roommates had come home from college to spend the break together. Jules, only a year older than Camille, was finishing up his last year of high school before joining his brothers at Northeastern University. Jean-Luc was in the transitional stage between graduating and trying to find his first career-oriented job, so he was often around the most to see to Camille’s mother while she and her father were away in Hollywood.
It was hard to process all of this while Camille was talking. Each time she threw out a new name, Roxy had to go through her mental list and recall everything she had shared about them over the course of their friendship. While it was rare she talked about her family, what she did share was chock-full of information about each and every member.
“And you’ll never believe this…” Camille continued in a hush, as Jo and Roxy both let out a teasing, “Ooh!”
The writer could imagine the blush forming on her friend’s porcelain cheeks; Judging by her tone, this was a voice she only brought out when talking about Logan, so maybe something had developed on that front after their abrupt break up in October.
“Roshan asked if I wanted to go to a New Year’s party with him and I think I might say yes. I’ve been waiting for Logan to forgive me for so long… I don’t know-”
On the other line, Jo squealed, “Camille! If you want to go, just go! It’s only a party. With college guys!”
Roxy was still frozen mid-stroke, undoubtedly overloading her ring finger with far too much of the electric blue polish she had found in her bathroom. Oh, God. What’s Logan going to think…
“Yeah!” She chimed in, trying to sound as excited as Jo. “Sounds super low-stakes and you can get to know him better.”
Maybe some part of her was hoping she and Logan would get back together, but Camille was right, it wasn’t up to her at all. Logan was still working through what had happened between them, which was perfectly understandable, but she also knew how Camille was bouncing from one thing to the next. Being stationary for too long made her anxious, hence her penchant for jumping from different types of creative projects to another. If she was tired of waiting for him to make his decision, of course she was thinking of moving on.
“Like I said, I don’t know… It feels a bit quick, but I still have a bit to decide. I’ll keep you both updated, though… And that’s all for my turn, you next, Jo!”
Camille, spotlight lover, wasn’t always quick to turn the conversation away from herself, which told Roxy she was still a bit anxious about her decision, even if she was only in the beginning stages of making it.
By the silence on the other line, she could tell Jo sensed it too, but soon enough, she began to report on her time in North Carolina.
Like she had predicted, being back home was a mess. Between seeing her estranged mother and sister, which she was dreading, it was even worse because they’d brought along her mother’s new boyfriend. “Who brings a guy you just met to a family holiday?!” But, she was more than ecstatic to see her grandmother and said they’d spent the majority of their time together. Not only had she learned a new cookie recipe she was dying to make for her friends, but she and her grandma were learning to knit together.
“It’s a bit old lady for me, but I’m making a beanie for Kendall… I hope he likes it.”
“Of course he will, he practically lives in them!” Roxy cut in, finally moving onto her second coat after saving what she could of her ring finger. “Especially if you hand make it… Are you kidding me? So romantic!”
Hearing Camille’s laugh after nothing from her line the last few minutes was comforting. “He’s at the ice rink, like, all the time, right? That’s a perfect gift!”
“Ugh, I hope so. I’ve been so stressed making it, I just want it to be perfect. All this time away from him is making me realize how much he means to me…” There was a long, noticeable pause on her end, but neither girl cut in. “I think I love him.”
Camille and Roxy screamed. So loud, it wouldn’t have shocked any of them if the sound waves had traveled all the way to Marion, North Carolina from Duluth and New Haven without the use of a telephone.
Heart pounding at her friend’s confession, Roxy’s chest felt like a balloon had swelled inside. “Love?!” She cried. “My best friend is in love?!”
“She’s in love!” Camille confirmed, “Lovely, lovely, love!”
It sounded like Jo was about to add something on, when the sound of Roxy’s bedroom door flying open interrupted, and her half-asleep father stood in the doorway, blanket halfway on the ground, with a baseball bat. “Wha-?”
Of course, he hadn’t meant to scare her, but he most certainly did, and the bottle of pale yellow polish dropped from her hand and all over her floral-covered duvet.
“Dad!” She yelled, heart now pounding from excitement and fear, but she couldn’t care less about the mess she’d made. “Jo’s in love! She loves Kendall!”
“I think!” The blonde added on, but it was mostly drowned out by Camille’s never-ending hoots and hollers.
“Oh,” was all her dad managed, setting the bat down in the hallway once he determined his daughter was okay and tugging the blanket back over his shoulders. Declan raked a hand through his long hair. “Alright then, congratulations, darling.”
For a moment, he stood there and rubbed his eyes, before reaching out and blowing Roxy a kiss, closing her door again. Jo let out an intelligible sound from her end of the line and Roxy promised, “He’s the only person I’ll tell! I swear!”
“And you!” Called Camille, and all three of them knew she was speaking directly to Jo. “You better tell him when you give him the beanie!”
“No promises!” Jo bit back, and Roxy imagined the grin taking up her beautiful features. “But… That does seem like the best time to tell him.”
***
Hardly able to sleep after learning such valuable information from her best friends, Roxy was tossing and turning all night thinking about Jo’s confession. How lucky she was to be experiencing such a euphoric feeling, one she could not only put into words but felt as though she needed to share with her partner.
One day, I’ll feel like that too. Just the thought of it made her giddy.
It was a bit of a shock when her phone rang early in the morning again, the opening chords to “The Scientist” by Coldplay this time, signaling something was up with Logan.
When she answered, her voice was a bit groggy from sleep, but she did her best to put on a cheery tone.
Turns out, Logan wanted to go shopping, citing a major sale at the Duluth mall, but he didn’t want to go alone. “I’ll drive and everything, my mother is off work and said we can take her car if you’d like.”
Sale at the mall? Roxy didn’t need to be asked twice before she hopped out of bed and pulled something on, meeting her friend outside about fifteen minutes later.
Logan’s mother’s car was a far nicer ride than Dynamo was, which was to be said about most vehicles, but for her first time in a BMW, she was thoroughly enjoying it. No blown-out speakers, peeling leather seats, cracked windshields, or broken gauges, just pure luxury in the passenger seat as Logan flew down the open road.
He was a much more reserved driver in Los Angeles, probably due to the sheer amount of other crazy drivers in the area, but back home, he was quite the speed demon. Maybe it was the rap station on the radio inspiring him or maybe he was more comfortable with the city’s roads, but they’d made it to the mall far quicker than she ever would have.
Gotta love an after-holiday sale… She thought as he pulled her through the parking lot and into the first department store that caught his eye.
The shopping trip had honestly lasted a lot longer than she’d expected; She felt a bit bad they hadn’t invited James along with them either. Apparently, Logan had accumulated quite the chunk of Christmas cash from his relatives and had decided to revamp his wardrobe.
And by “revamp” he mostly meant refresh - The sweaters and cardigans he already owned were getting rotated out for fresh new ones in the same neutral tones he loved. How he could wear these during the Los Angeles summer, she never understood, but that was what he preferred, so no one questioned him differently. However, she was able to convince him to let her pick an outfit out for him, something out of his ordinary closet with more of a “cool” vibe.
Black leather jacket, a nice pair of shades, some tight jeans…
As they passed by rack after rack, sometimes Roxy would stop and pick something up as well, but her clothing choices were more appropriate for the California heat. James’ words from the other night stuck with her, so he was mostly making sure her items appropriately showed off her legs in a way that still made her feel confident and beautiful, while also potentially riling him up a bit.
They even had what felt like a silly teen movie montage, trying on all of their outfits one by one in the dressing room and coming out to show the other to get opinions or change pieces out for ones that fit them better.
By the time they’d covered almost the entire mall front to back, each of them was sufficiently shopped out and stopped by the food court for a little snack - What was a trip to the mall without some pretzels? - before hopping back in the BMW and heading back to their corner of town.
“My moms are dying to see you again,” He confessed to her, never taking his eyes off the road, over the Dr. Dre track playing in the background. “Humor them and come over for dinner?”
Roxy wasn’t aware she had made such an impact on them back at their Duluth Big Time Rush show, considering she’d been a bit too preoccupied with James on her mind to really feel as though she was present in the moment. Both Sabina and Joanna mostly kept to themselves, but if she recalled they had a brief conversation about how well Logan was doing in Hollywood. They cared for him so much, and it was evident to the girl after one conversation with them, so there wasn’t any point in not stopping by to see them again.
“Yeah, sure! That sounds wonderful,” She told him, watching as they passed the road into her neighborhood and down a few blocks to his.
Logan beamed, tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the song, “Mom’s at work showing a house right now, but Mother has the afternoon off, which is rare. It feels like the hospital always needs her…”
The last time she’d been in Duluth, she’d brought up how strange it was for all five of them to live so close to each other, but never have met until their audition to James, and as they turned into Logan’s street, that statement felt even more true than before. He was probably a ten-minute walk from her, but state boundary lines had zoned her for a different high school.
My life would certainly be much different had I met them earlier, Roxy concluded, though she wasn’t quite sure how. Maybe they’ve saved me from my terrible band and we would’ve started our own sooner…
She didn’t have much more time to consider it, because when they pulled up to Logan’s house, Roxy’s jaw visibly dropped.
Mansion was a more accurate description of the sprawling two-story abode they pulled into the driveway of, opening one of two garages for Logan to park the BMW in. It was nearly impossible for her to get a good look at the entire home; the bright white paneling from ground to roof was so clean it was blinding and stood out gorgeously against the black and tan wood accents around the doors and windows. Of the other mansion she’d been to in her life, she’d already preferred this one’s modern style of architecture to the Spanish style of Gustavo’s.
Of course, to Logan, this was a sight he’d seen millions of times, so when he popped open the car door and motioned toward the door that would lead them inside, he forgot to let Roxy take a moment to process.
“Wow,” She breathed, finally managing to join him in the spacious garage, then the laundry room attached, and finally into the open kitchen space. “It must’ve sucked to move into the Palm Woods…”
The way her voice echoed off the high ceilings startled her, as she turned in place to take the impressive space in.
“What do you mean?” He asked her, cocking his head while he opened the fridge to grab two cans of soda. “I get to live with my best friends… What more could I ever want?”
Ugh, he’s so sweet, Roxy thought, following her friend into the living room and down a large hallway, before he stopped at a closed door and knocked a few times. Maybe your own room, or a gigantic kitchen, or a sweet ride-
“Come in!” came a cheery voice from inside, and the boy managed to press down on the handle despite both of his hands being full.
When the pair stepped in, bookshelf after bookshelf surrounded them, completely covering the space from floor to ceiling - save the section towards the outside of the house and its massive bay window.
What Roxy would give to curl up in James’ lap and read a book in the warm, shining sun…
“Hey, I’m home!” He called out among the shelves, peering down each long column they passed, “Brought a friend.”
“Hi!” Roxy tentatively called out as well, thinking it might be rude if she didn’t announce her presence right then and there.
There was the sound of shuffling feet, and a few rows down, Sabina popped her head around one of the shelves, blazing blue eyes sparking the minute she laid eyes on her son. “Logie-Bear! You brought Roxanne!”
“Don’t act like you’re more excited to see her than me…” He trailed off, speeding over to trap her in a hug. The way he buried his head in the crook of his mother’s neck was likely to hide his embarrassment from the silly nickname.
It was a bit of an awkward embrace, considering his full hands, and the giant medical textbook Sabina was attempting to keep her place in, but they made it work in their own strange way.
“Thanks for having me,” The writer blurted out. It had been a long, long time since she’d been invited over to someone’s house. “You have such a lovely home.”
“That’s what a life of hard work and dedication will get ya!” Sabina winked, taking her arm from around Logan’s shoulders and pulling Roxy into a hug as well. “Both of you are right on track for that, huh?”
Is she talking about being in a band? Or Logan being a doctor?
Both kids nodded, watching as the woman tucked an old Polaroid photo of her, her wife, and Logan on her page then set her book back onto the nearest shelf, making sure the volume she was reading was in the correct numeral spot. The dark tan binding blended almost perfectly with her tan skin. “How does butter chicken sound for dinner? Your mom told me she was craving it earlier.”
As a guest, Roxy had no say in whatever was being made, she was simply along for the ride. Logan’s eyes widened in response, and his nodding from before grew more invigorated; A good sign if Roxy’d ever seen one.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” She offered, now following Sabina and Logan from the library back to the kitchen, knowing her culinary skills weren’t as impressive as they could be.
Almost drowned out by the sound of her heels clicking on the tile floors, Sabina smiled over her shoulder, “Aren’t you just a doll for asking?! How about you and Logie go fetch some vegetables from the garden? I just know the two of you will make a wonderful salad…”
The garden? One almost completely covered in snow?
Logan must’ve seen the confusion written all over his friend’s face, so he wordlessly set the sodas he had grabbed down on the kitchen counter and looped his arm through Roxy’s, leading her away from the kitchen and through another long hallway. When they came upon two large glass doors, showing a breathtaking winter landscape in the backyard, she dug her heels into the ground.
“You’re crazy if you think I’m going out there without my big coat! I’m all Los Angeles acclimatized now!”
“Roxy, I promise you can handle, like, thirty seconds in the cold.”
He didn’t wait for her reply, simply opening the door and tugging her through, and leading down a nicely shoveled cobblestone path to the side of the white home. All the while, she huddled into him, trying to steal as much of his body heat as physically possible - Though she almost missed the immaculately manicured bushes and pine trees covered in a light dusting of last night’s snow.
Out over the large expanse of yard he showed her through, she noticed a small, frozen river running along what she assumed was the back line of the property that separated off into a large section of woods. No fence surrounding everything suggested they weren’t too worried about animals coming through and stealing their food. As they rounded the corner, she noticed some neglected-looking patio furniture, probably all soaking wet and frozen cushions, and some flower pots, completely empty.
If the flower pots are empty-
“Here we are!” Logan announced, and Roxy turned from where she was looking to take note of a medium-sized structure, constructed floor to ceiling with transparent, fogged glass panes. A door in the center opened as he pushed in on it, and soon enough the pair were out of the winter weather and back into something that felt a lot more like Hollywood than she’d ever expected in the Midwest.
In front of them, four carefully constructed rows of soil were dug in the ground, running straight back from where they stood. Various gardening supplies, and the overwhelming smell of manure, surrounded Roxy and Logan as they searched the personal greenhouse for the necessary ingredients.
“I think lettuce is over there…” Logan vaguely pointed off to the right, and Roxy followed his directions and took the farthest row to search, more than happy to spend as much time in the cozy, warm space as possible. “And tomatoes and cucumbers should be over here…” Taking off in the opposite direction.
None of the plants were labeled, and she certainly didn’t have any gardening experience, so she gently lifted large leaves to see if they were bearing any other vegetables she thought might go well in a salad, before realizing she had no idea what lettuce looked like if it wasn’t sitting on the shelf in a grocery store.
Thankfully, however, she happened upon a green, leafy plant she was 90% sure was a head of lettuce and squatted down to attempt to harvest it. Just as she reached out, she heard a soft mrow, and a jet-black cat with the biggest green eyes she’d ever seen sauntered through the vegetation and rubbed up against her outstretched hand.
Like the greenhouse, the cat was warm against her skin, eagerly awaiting for her to continue petting its soft fur as if it were trying to capture all of her attention.
“Uh, Logan?” She hesitantly called, but it seemed as though he was already making his way over to her with the tomato and cucumber he had been looking for.
“Hm?” He mumbled, preoccupied with the food in his hands before the cat let out another mrow. “Hippocrates?”
From where she squatted on the floor, still petting the gorgeous cat, she looked up and cocked an eyebrow at him.
“What? He’s the father of medicine!”
Roxy just let out a chuckle in response, deciding to sit down on the least dusty part of the cobblestone path lining and coax Hippocrates over with a “Psst, psst, psst!”
Soon enough, the salad ingredients were all but forgotten when the animal settled down between her crossed legs, batting up at the fingers she dangled over him. “You never mentioned you had a cat! And such a cutie-patootie one at that!”
The boy just rolled his eyes at her baby talk as they continued to play together.
“Such a pretty kitty! Pretty kitty!” Roxy continued, now tickling his soft belly as he continued to play with her other hand. “With your fur so black it’s almost blue? You remind me of-”
Immediately she snapped her mouth shut, eyes widening, before she managed to say Camille’s name. It was not smooth in the slightest, and she noticed the way Logan temporarily froze while he was working on getting the head of lettuce off the underground stalk.
Before she got the chance to apologize, the boy cleared his throat and got back to work, speaking in a hushed tone, “You can say ‘Camille.’ It’s not like some magic spell that’ll ward me off or something.”
“Ah… Then you’re far better than me. I still cringe whenever I hear Dak’s name,” Roxy responded, after giving Hippocrates some more tummy tickles to combat the turning of her stomach. “Even saying it just then made me feel nauseous.”
“So, you’re telling me it won’t get better? At all? Rox, it’s been months since you and Dak broke up.”
“If you can even call what we had a relationship…” The writer chuckled.
Is it me or is the greenhouse getting hotter?
Shifting uncomfortably, she hoped that would be the end of the conversation as Logan continued hacking away at the lettuce with the small tool he held in his hand.
“She and I weren’t together much longer. Well, not officially.”
“You two always did have that infuriating ‘will-they, won’t they’ thing going on.”
“Oh, you’re one to talk!” He jokingly spit back, before removing the leafy greens and moving to sit beside her, reaching over to give Hippocrates a few scratches on the head. “Whatever you and James were doing was so much worse.”
Doing her best not to disturb the cat in her lap, Roxy shoved her shoulder into Logan’s with a shy smile. “That’s not the point of this conversation. If you’re asking me how I got over being cheated on, just go ahead and ask.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’re over it to me…” Logan said, shoving his shoulder back into hers and startling Hippocrates to his feet. In a flash, he took off between the leaves again, off to find another warm corner of the greenhouse to curl up in.
Roxy let out an offended gasp, “Of course I am! I wrote a song about it, made a lot of money, got to perform it at every show, and I have a super ultra-hot boyfriend who is way better than Dak ever would’ve been to me. I’m totally all well-adjusted about it and stuff.”
Their laughter roared through the space, bouncing off the glass walls until they were leaning on each other for support, gasping for air at Roxy’s ridiculously shallow statement. Two of the tomatoes Logan had been gathering up to take back inside rolled off his lap and off under one of the tables holding the innumerable gardening supplies, and Roxy had to use her quick reflexes to save the cucumber from the same fate.
As he helped her off the ground, and they gathered up everything they had taken from the garden, Roxy stopped him before they ran through the freezing backyard and back into the house.
“I’m not an expert or anything, but I think you just need to give it time. It might be something you think about a lot - and I mean a lot - right now, but in a few months, eventually you’ll start to think about it less and less, until eventually, you don’t think about it at all. The pain may seem permanent now, but I promise it isn’t everlasting.”
Logan bumped his shoulder into hers again with a small smile. “Thanks, Rox… And you’re right, I have been thinking about it a lot and…”
His tone matched that of Camilles on their phone call last night; She knew exactly what he was about to say, and her heart dropped to her stomach.
“It might be time for me to branch out, you know? Expand my horizons a little bit. Do you think it’s too soon for me to think about maybe seeing someone else?”
Rolling the cucumber between both of her hands, Roxy tried poorly to hide her audible gulp. “No, of course not. If you think that’s what you need to do… that’s what you need to do.”
“It’s just a thought!” He followed up, quickly enough for her to think he didn’t really mean what he was saying. Maybe something was still keeping him tied to Camille despite everything that had happened between them. “I don’t really know many other girls at the Palm Woods… It’s always been Camille.”
“Any girl at the Palm Woods, or elsewhere, would be lucky to have you, Logan,” His assistant shared, in earnest. “And I’m here for you, no matter what you decide.”
When they reached the door, that conversation came to its natural conclusion, and the pair braced themselves for the harsh winter conditions awaiting them outside.
“Alright, ready?” Logan asked, slowly reaching toward the door to pull it open. At Roxy’s nod, he began to count down, “3… 2… 1… Go!”
The both of them took off toward the house, struggling to keep hold of all their vegetables as they ran laughing down the cobblestone path.
***
How Roxy let Carlos rope her into an early morning run, she didn’t know.
It had sounded like a good idea when he’d called her last night while she sprawled out on her bed, attempting to digest the delicious meal Sabina had put together for her, Logan, and Joanna.
“I’m never eating that much again!” She’d promised him, agreeing to his request to take a run around his neighborhood. “I’m going to need to work all this off if I don’t want Jo to kick my ass at the gym this week.”
Carlos’ giggles burst through the other line, “Sounds like a plan then! I’ll see you in the morning at Kamford Gardens. Oh! And I’m bringing a friend, hope you don’t mind.”
Not at all, Roxy figured after they’d hung up. If she was already going to meet the other members of the boys’ hockey team at the New Year’s party, there was no harm in getting to know another new face. I wonder what they’ll be like.
From the brief bits and pieces Roxy heard about the band’s life before fame, all four of them had been quite popular; It came with the territory of being some of the best athletes on the school's most important sports team.
At Twin Oaks, Roxy’s first high school, that sport had been football, and it was no secret that the players on the team were given special treatment by just about anyone they came in contact with. From students, to teachers, to admin… Everyone wanted some sort of connection with their hometown sports stars. Though it was a sweeping generalization, she assumed the treatment at Mountain Aire was similar for those talented enough to make the hockey team.
Now, Roxy sat under the large gazebo on the outskirts of the park, waiting for Carlos and his friend to arrive so they could get a move on. After the run, she was planning on heading home to freshen up and meet with James for a date.
Most of the snow was still piled high from the storm a few days ago, but the city had done a wonderful job at clearing and salting the paved trail around the park. No major ice patches or dangerous snowbanks should stand in their way during their workout and they had the privilege of taking in the incredible sites around them. Roxy had never been to Kamford, but Carlos was pretty adamant that it be the location for their run. Wide sprawling fields, a slowly melting lake, and plenty of benches along the trail made Roxy a tad nostalgic for the park closer to her house. It was a staple for her and her father when they were younger; At times he was off work early they’d often take a few laps around the area before bed to work off any excess energy.
You certainly don’t get sights like this in Los Angeles… Sure, Griffith Park was nice, but nothing felt as homey and familiar as the snow-covered scene before her. Roxy could do without the shivering, however, considering all of her workout clothing had been purchased in California. As she jammed her hands into the thin pockets of her sage green windbreaker, she prayed the thermal leggings she’d dug out of her drawer would be enough to keep her warm until they began their run.
“Roxyyy!” Someone called from behind her, and she quickly stood from the park bench she was sitting on. A small twinge of anxiety bolted through her, hopefully Carlos’ friend is nice, when she turned to face him.
The first thing she noticed was his outfit - shorts, t-shirt, no helmet, despite the below-freezing temperatures turning their exposed bits of skin bright red. Second, his bright, dazzling smile as he jogged over to her. And third, the large dog running beside him, attached to a hot pink leash and matching collar. It stood out nicely against its snow-white coat, littered with black dots, and hot pink booties around all four paws.
By the time they caught up, Carlos almost crashed Roxy into a hug when he failed to slow down fast enough, which the dog was more than eager to join in on, jumping up on back paws to try and be a part of the action.
After a cordial greeting between the two friends, the Dalmatian leapt up onto the bench beside them, as if it were waiting to be introduced to the writer.
“And this is Missy!” Carlos shared, petting down between his dog’s ears. Lazily, Missy’s tongue rolled out of her mouth, as though she were smiling, like she understood she was the center of the conversation. “She’s our little ball of energy - She knows this place like the back of her paw!”
Just as Roxy had geeked over Logan’s cat, her smile grew about a million times wider as her hands flew to scratch behind Missy’s velvety ears. “Hi, Missy! Are you coming for a little run with us today?”
The dog practically melted into her touch, turning her head from side to side like she was trying to decide where the best scratches were coming from.
“Oh, no,” Her friend informed her, tugging once on the leash to coax Missy down off the bench. “We’re going for a run with her.”
Roxy swore the dog must’ve been fluent in English, because as soon as her owner finished his sentence, she took off toward the path, tugging him along with her.
“Alright then… Here we go!” The writer laughed, breaking out in a run to catch up to her friend. “Show us all the good spots then, Missy!”
And show them the good spots she did, after one continuous lap around the large lake. That dog sure knew she was in charge, leading them down a marked trail through the woods for a bit of off-road action, before pulling them back toward the playground and gazebo again.
Since she and the boys rarely worked out together - the schedule Gustavo and Mr. X had them stick to was a bit too strict for her liking - she had forgotten just how fast Carlos was. On top of his insane hockey player stamina, he was also the fastest of their four friends, as evidenced by the Palm Woods Invitational All-Terrain Disc-Cathlon Classic he had won earlier in the year, all while carrying his assistant on his back. It was a struggle to keep up sometimes, but Roxy held her own and imagined Missy slowed the pace down just for her.
Lungs burning, eyes watering, hands freezing, they finally came to a stop right back at where they’d started about twenty minutes later - Missy hopping back up onto the bench for pets as she panted away, while Carlos and Roxy obliged her wishes and took a breather, trying to come down from their runner’s high.
“This is her favorite place, I swear!” The boy said through labored breaths. “And she hasn’t run like that in a while! She must really like you.”
The assistant weighed the pros and cons of laying on the paved concrete floor below them, wondering if it would ease the growing ache in her legs. “Well, I like her too… But I also really hate her for working us so hard!” Missy barked, as though she resented the statement. “She’d get along great with Lighting, you know.”
Scoffing, Carlos checked his watch, before clicking his tongue a few times to get the Dalmatian back off the bench. “I’m not letting my precious baby girl anywhere near that womanizer!”
A growl rolled out of Missy’s throat, suggesting she also hated the idea as well, before she began to tug on the leash again, wanting to check out one of the snowbanks beside the gazebo.
“I certainly don’t need the two of you ganging up on me…” Huffed Roxy, slowly trailing along after the two as the dog sniffed around, lazily meandering down the path.
Though it was still quite early, more and more people were starting to head onto the park grounds to enjoy the nice weather - nice weather for Minnesota at least. A few more dogs as well, who Missy nearly bounded over to in order to play, while Carlos and Roxy made polite small talk with their owners. On top of the views, that was something else Minnesota had Los Angeles beat on: Everyone was always so friendly.
Maybe I just needed to get out of here for a while to appreciate just how nice Duluth is.
When Missy decided she was done playing, she trotted back over to Roxy and Carlos, tongue lolling and tail wagging back and forth a mile a minute while she patiently waited to be clipped back onto her leash.
“Did you have a good time, Missy?” Roxy asked, baby voice and all as she ran her hand down the Dalmatian’s smooth coat. “It looks like you’re getting tired!”
Again, the dog must have understood exactly what Roxy was saying, because in response, she tugged on the leash and led the two back onto the path they’d just run, sniffing down the path while she dragged them around.
Carlos reached out and swatted her ponytail, “You can’t say the t-word around her! If she thinks we’re going home, she always tries to extend her walk.”
“I thought the t-word was ’treat’?”
Missy stopped her sniffing and looked back over her shoulder.
“That’s one of them!” The boy sighed, and reached into his pocket for a small baggie of round dog treats, extending one out to his assistant.
She scrunched her nose up, “No, thanks. Not a fan of that flavor.”
“You said it, you give it to her,” Carlos informed her, whistling Missy back toward them. “And, they don't actually taste that bad if you want one.”
An unpleasant image of Carlos guzzling dog treats filled her mind. Yuck.
The feeling of Missy’s tongue licking around her fingers to capture the treat shocked her against the cold feeling her fingers had gotten used to.
“Aw, ew! She’s all slobbery,” The girl cried, shaking her hand around in the air to try and relieve the unpleasant sensation before her eyes landed on her laughing friend. “What do you think you’re laughing at?”
Carlos just kept wheezing, and it was riling Missy up when he bent over to hug his sides. However, he didn’t find it as funny when Roxy held out her palm, wiggling her fingers, and attempted to wipe it off on the sleeve of his shirt. In fact, he quickly realized he’d need to run away from her, taking Missy with him, as she chased after him with her slobber-covered hand.
Neither of them had noticed just how far they’d gotten on the park trail until they reached the edge of the paved area, running along the smooth stoned sides of the melting creek. At one point, they’d even hopped over one of the narrow parts, despite the desperate plea of her heart to slow down, for a while before eventually getting back on the correct trail.
“Just… Use the water!” Carlos eventually called over his shoulder, motioning to his left at the small amount of runoff coming from the melting snow, and his assistant had no choice but to take his suggestion even if the slobber was frozen to her fingers at this point.
Her footsteps slowed, until she was eventually able to ease herself into a stop, and she squatted down to let the water run over her hand. Of course, it had been as cold as she had been expecting, but it didn’t stop her from flinching the moment the sensation hit her fingertips. “Dude, I think there’s something swimming around in here!”
From a few feet away, the boy turned his head to the side, “Really?” and took a few steps closer before bending down to see what his assistant was talking about.
With a snicker, Roxy raised her hand from the water and flicked her fingers toward him, covering his face in the snowy runoff. “Ha! Gotcha!”
A small gasp of surprise left his lips, but it didn’t take him any more than a second to dip his hand into the stream and splash Roxy as well, giggling just as loud as she was.
Even Missy wanted to get in on the fun, splashing into the river with her hot pink booties and causing the other two to scramble away from her as she jumped around. A few more rounds back and forth, both of them too focused on the task at hand while they tormented each other, neither of them noticed the tags on her collar jingle back and forth as she began to shake off the water on her coat.
When she had gotten so wet, Roxy and Carlos didn’t know, but soon they were pelted as the water jetted off her fur, cold little bombs erupted on their clothing and skin when each drop hit. Soon enough, they’d forgotten they were even messing with each other; Instead, they clutched onto each other as they ran to the closest path of wood they could find that wasn’t covered in snow, and collapsed together into a dripping, giggling mess.
Of course, Missy wasn’t far behind, and she practically launched herself into their laps, willfully begging for pets as the two finally allowed themselves a moment of rest together.
“Oh, God, I’m exhausted,” The writer announced, running one more hand down Missy’s back before collapsing back onto the forest floor behind her. Pine trees surrounded them, blocking out most of her view of the sky, but a few white patches poked through, likely promising another snowfall later in the day. “We’re not allowed to run together anymore…”
“Aw!” Carlos whined, plopping down beside her and poking her cheek. “I’ve got memories with all my favorite people at this park. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to make one with you too… But if it was that bad-”
She cut him off by driving a hand into his side, “I didn’t know that! I take it back, I swear!”
“Nope… It’s too late,” He pretended to sniffle, bringing a hand under his eyes as he wiped away his crocodile tears. “The damage has been done.”
“No! Now you need to tell me!” She fought back, coaxing Missy over to cuddle with her. “List. Now. Starting with ‘Fight with Roxy’ at the top, then…”
“Then, coming here almost every day after elementary school with my sisters. We’d wait here after school for mom to come pick us up, and sometimes the ice cream man would come by and they’d get me one of those messed up-looking popsicles with the gumball eyes.”
Roxy had only come into contact with Carlos’ three older sisters, Maria, Lupe, and Alena, but from what she knew about them, that tracked. They’d gushed over him backstage at their Duluth concert, so she imagined he’d been getting similar treatment now that he was back home.
“And next… Probably playing flag football over the summers with James! Those big fields are perfect for sports when they’re not covered with snow,” He grinned,
“Ah, so you’re not just hockey heads, you’re ballers too?”
“Just the two of us… Logan didn’t like the rules and Kendall is hockey loyal. But! Logan and I used to run up and down the river here and catch little crayfish critters sometimes. And Kendall was here when I ran into a tree with my bike and gave myself this super nasty concussion!”
Shifting up onto one arm, still petting Missy with the other, Roxy rolled over to look at him, “These are supposed to be good memories.”
Carlos blinked his big brown eyes, “But it is! Because for my next birthday, you’ll never believe what he got me.”
“Better breaks?”
“A helmet! All nice and shiny brand new… It was glorious!” He continued to gush, smiling up at the clouds. “I’d just turned ten and I promised him I’d wear it for the rest of my life.”
His friend cocked a brow, “So you lied to him?”
Still staring upward as he lay on his back, Carlos reached out and captured her face in his palm, gently pushing her back down to the forest floor. “No. I grew out of it and got another one, then another one, then another one…”
As Carlos rattled on, Roxy half-tuned in as she tracked the movements of a crow hopping from branch to branch above them. She was almost jealous of him, getting to make so many good memories he was able to look back on fondly with his best friends about their hometown. Most of her favorite places here were stained with the memory of Mag and Dani, though she supposed it wasn’t all that bad.
Now I’ve got new memories of Cait’s basement, Kendall’s lake, Logan’s house, and Carlos’ park…
“And now I’ve got this one!” Carlos finished, reaching up to slap his head, only to wince when he realized he wasn’t wearing his normal protective gear, “...Back at home.”
At his pained words, Missy growled a bit, shaking herself from Roxy’s grip and walking over to her owner to lick at his face.
Incredible instinct on that one.
“Aw, baby,” The boy cooed, taking Missy’s face in his hands and giving her a boatload of scratches. “Is it time to go?”
The dog barked her confirmation, and when Carlos moved to stand, Roxy held out her hand. “Can we wait just a few more minutes? I’m still making my memory.”
***
When Roxy drove to James’ house to grab him that evening, she took a deep breath as she pulled up in front of his house and turned Dynamo’s rattling engine off.
Carefully, she flipped down the sun visor, checking her make-up meticulously in the mirror. If she was planning on meeting the Este Lauder of the Midwest tonight, nothing could be out of place. Even as she hopped out of the cab, she smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress despite her shaking hands.
James had it easy, she decided, getting to meet my dad before we were even together.
With a deep breath, she walked up the path leading through the meticulously manicured lawn on her way to the front door, only to be met with her boyfriend pulling open the door and slipping out to meet her before she was even halfway to the porch.
“Hey, babe!” He kissed her cheek, running a hand down her arm and lacing his fingers with hers as he pulled her back toward her tuck. “Love the dress… Do a little spin for me?”
“Uh,” The writer faltered, blinking up at James before doing as he asked. With each pound of her heel on the pavement as she turned, her pulse grew faster. “Don’t you think I should meet your mom before we head out?”
Again, James was pulling her back toward Dynamo. “Yeah, that’d be super, but she’s not home right now.”
Though she loved the wonderful view of his backside in his slacks and dress shirt as he trailed ahead of her, her eyes flickered to the right. A white Jeep Wrangler sat in the driveway.
“Did I tell you where we’re going tonight?” James asked her, interrupting her train of thought. “It’s this cool little hole-in-the-wall Italian place downtown. Owned by one of the guys on the MAHS team's family too. They’ll treat us like VIPs! Speaking of, Kendall said you’re coming to the party tomorrow, right?”
Roxy loved listening to him talk, no matter the circumstance, but right now, it felt like he was trying to bounce from subject to subject; She was having trouble following everything he’d asked her.
Smiling, the writer squeezed his hand as he opened the car door for her and waited for her to climb in before shutting it.
“Thanks, James,” She’d muttered when he finally took his place on the passenger’s side. “No, you didn’t say, but it sounds lovely! And yes, I’ll go if you’re going.”
There was an awkward pause, something quite new for the couple.
“Think she’ll be here when we get back? I’d like to meet her.”
That was a half-life, Roxy was terrified, especially considering all she knew of Brooke Diamond was her tragic, messy, public divorce, how protective she was of her son, and how little James talked about her.
“Probably, but she’s got a strict bedtime - 9 p.m. or she complains about puffy eyes the next day. It’s such a pain.” Her boyfriend reached for the stereo - she thought about slapping his hand away - turning up the volume on the tape Roxy’d popped in as she was driving over. “Who’s this? Sounds like something you’d be really good at playing on the guitar.”
James was trying to distract her.
“Fall Out Boy.” She took his bait, pulling away from the sidewalk with a knot in her stomach. “Dad and I saw them a couple of years ago. Tickets were almost impossible to get, but one of his friends from work knew someone who ran at the venue.”
Reaching out to turn it up again, Roxy gripped the wheel tighter at his next words. “You’re kidding! How sick… Did you two go to a lot of shows together?”
“How about we save the small talk for our date?” She said, putting on her best cheery voice despite how quickly she felt like spiraling. “Which road do I turn down once we’re in town?”
As James pulled out the printed directions from his front pocket, he scanned the page for the answer to her girlfriend’s question.
Meanwhile, she was attempting to get rid of the dull ache blooming in her chest, thinking she had been justified in her worry all those weeks ago.
Am I not the kind of girl you take home to your parents?
***
Jo and Camille had assured Roxy she was being ridiculous on their emergency-slash-Happy Birthday, Camille phone call last night. So, when she’d finally picked all her friends up, managed to make it to “Hawkins’ Haus,” and passed her keyes off to their designated driver, Kendall, Roxy was ready to forget all about the dark worry itching at the back of her mind.
Drink, dance, have a good time… Simple, she planned out in her head, clutching at her boyfriend’s arm as the five of them entered the large modern-style house to the sound of loud party chatter over whatever unseen speakers were blasting the top hits of the last year. Plenty of teenagers filled the space ready to celebrate the New Year together, making it tough for the five to all move together through the entrance and into the living room, where a group of boys were all lounging on whatever furniture or floor space was available.
From her conversation with Kendall, Roxy had assumed it was just a party with the team and a few of their friends, but as she glanced around the space it was packed with people as far as she could see. Mountain Aire was one of the largest high schools in the area; She wouldn’t be surprised if most of the student population was in attendance tonight. From the entrance to the fenced-in backyard, even to the second floor it was wall-to-wall people.
“Hawkinsssss!” She heard Carlos boom behind her, and one of the boys turned his head, eyes lighting up as he practically jumped out of his armchair to greet the newcomers.
“Garcia?!” Hawkins called back, arms wide. “Get your ass over here!”
Happy to oblige, Carlos tackled the boy into a bear hug, “Dude, it’s been too long!”
A few of the other guys were standing now, slowly heading over to greet Kendall, Carlos, James, and Logan as well.
“Team captain,” James murmured in Roxy’s ear, before flashing his award-winning smile and reaching out from behind her to shake his hand. “Good to see you, man.”
“And you, Diamond! God, look at you!” The captain beamed, and now that they were closer Roxy could get a better look at him in the dim light. Like her friends, he was infuriatingly handsome, which she was beginning to think was a requirement if someone wanted to join the MAHS hockey team just from an inventory of the room. Waved brown hair fell over his just-as-brown eyes as he looked down at the girl in front of him, flashing a wry smile. “And you brought a real Los Angeles model with you? Damn, dude!”
Feeling her cheeks heat, Roxy leaned back into her boyfriend as he introduced her. “Kit Hawkins, Roxanne Somerset. And she’s not a model - though she could be if she wanted, for sure.”
Roxy held her hand out, “I’m a songwriter, actually. And house band member. And assistant… I wear many, many hats. Nice to meet you!”
Kit’s calloused hands rose to meet her own, shaking it up and down before bringing her knuckles to his lips.
“Girlfriend!” James blurted out, pulling Roxy’s hand into his the moment Hawkins let it go. “Did I mention she’s my girlfriend?”
Raising both his palms in defense, Kit’s eyes widened, “My bad, my bad! Sorry, Roxanne. Either of you want something to drink?”
The assistant shook her head, not for now at least, but James took him up on the offer, snagging one of the cold cans from one of many coolers she could spot around the room.
Gradually, more and more greetings were exchanged, James letting Roxy know who everyone was around the room as they piled onto the couch together. As he pulled her into his lap to create some room for Logan to sit beside them, his thumb rubbed a soothing circular pattern into her hip as she did her best to remember everyone’s names.
All of the players referred to each other by last name, which was easy enough with her own friends, but James using first and last names in his introductions was throwing her off a bit as she tuned into their conversations. In one part of the room, Kendall was detailing some of the crazy aspects of Hollywood, in another, an MAHS player, Callaghan, was talking to Logan about the team’s stats for the year.
“They’re totally gonna make the playoffs,” He spoke aloud, presumably only to Roxy once Callaghan started to rattle off some sort of statistics. “Seems like Hawkins is doing a good job…”
Across the way, it sounded like Carlos was telling the story of their audition to players Streicher and Logan - not to be confused with her own Logan - who were almost rolled over in laughter when he mentioned farting into the microphone in front of one of L.A.’s biggest music producers.
Draping an arm over James’ shoulder, Roxy leaned into his chest a bit more as she brought her lips down to his ear, “I didn’t expect there to be so many players! Isn’t there… like competition to get onto the team or something?”
“Most pro teams only have about 20 players; MAHS has room for 16 on their varsity team and you’re looking at every single one of them.”
Roxy felt her eyes widen, “For the entire student population?”
After a slow sip of his vodka soda, James nodded, “Best of the best, baby.”
For a moment, as she turned back to the story Kendall was telling, she thought about what it would be like if they went to a normal high school. Flashes of partnering with Logan at the chem lab, holding her boyfriend’s hand as they walked down the locker-lined hallways, passing notes with Carlos in history… Sitting surrounded by other “normal” teenagers almost had her longing for a life back in Minnesota.
Without thinking, she lifted the can from James’ hand and took a few small sips. “I can’t believe I’m dating a jock. Doesn’t that throw off the high school ecosystem balance or something?”
“Nah,” He assured her, pointing over to another player, Graham. “He’s dating one of the best artists ever and…” It took him a second, but his finger landed on another boy, Miller. “His girlfriend really loves Bauhaus and…” Roxy took another sip of his drink as he pointed someone else out, King. “His partner’s a pothead. All things considered, it’s a good mix.”
“Sounds like you needed a musician,” She mused, planting a kiss on his cheek before resting her forehead on his. “You’d let me wear your varsity jacket, right?”
“Rox, are you kidding me?” The hand on her hip flexed. “I’ll seriously run home and get it right now if you promise you’ll wear it the rest of the night-”
Bang!
The sound of aluminum crunching against a plastic surface made the both of them jump and turn toward the source of the sound, Carlos. “Whoo!”
“Shit,” Roxy giggled, watching as he threw the can across the room and into one of the many waste bins scattered about. “He’s one down; We need to catch up.”
“Say less, babe. Let’s go see what else they’ve got.”
~
Two seltzers later, James and Roxy were tearing up the dancefloor.
Well, more like James was thanks to his professional coaching over the last year, and his attempts to guide his girlfriend into some smoother moves went unheard as she rocked from side to side. At the end of each song, she’d find her way back into his arms, complaining that it was over, before getting excited on the first note of whatever came next, telling him how that was her favorite song ever.
Eventually, he was able to keep her close by hooking his fingers in the belt loops of her jeans, as her moves slowly began to synchronize with his thanks to their proximity. Despite music flowing through her veins and a presence at every single Big Time Rush dance practice and live performance, she still lacked good rhythm to move her own body to but figured practice makes perfect.
Hands trailing up the sides of her boyfriend’s chest and eventually winding around his neck, she pulled herself even closer, belting out the words to whatever song was the background track for their moves. Even with her heart beating out of her chest from all the activity, each time James brushed up against her or tightened his hold on her hips, it increased to what Roxy feared may be near fatal levels.
Though the house was dim, she caught glimpses of his face now and then as he bobbed his head to the beat. Be it their alcohol intake or the loosening she felt overtake her brain, but she noticed a splash of red on his cheeks, causing her own to heat in return.
~
Water. James finally made her drink not one, but two bottles of water after their stint on the dance floor and a small make-out session in the second-floor hallway, before they found themselves back on the couch and caught up in a party game with the hockey team.
Normally, Roxy was not one to partake in Truth or Dare with strangers, but her inhibitions were lowered just enough and she wanted to see her other friends so badly, that she and James allowed themselves to be roped into the shenanigans happening in the living room.
Logan - her Logan - was already stripped down to his boxers after a series of unfortunate dares, Callaghan was forced to recount his most embarrassing memory, and Kendall was currently wearing his shoes on his hands.
“Oh, James!” Hawkins called, slightly swaying in his seat as he singled out his victim for the next round. “Truth or dare?”
Roxy felt James hum under her while he chose, and she secretly hoped he might have to take off some clothing too.
“Dare.”
He almost didn’t catch the beer can the team captain hurtled his way, but managed to use his free hand - the one not circling Roxy’s waist - to catch it.
Immediately, despite various levels of intoxication, the whole room caught on to Hawkins’ scheme and began chanting, “Chug, chug, chug, chug!”
And chug James did, like a champion, while Roxy watched in awe. And a little bit to see his Adam’s Apple bob up and down and think about all the kisses she could plant on his neck later, but that wasn’t as important.
It took him about 25 seconds, and when he finished, the room broke into a wild ovation, as though he’d just scored the winning goal at a hockey game. Careful not to disturb the girl in his lap, he chucked the can right back at Hawkins before adding his other arm around her waist and tugging Roxy even closer into him.
She didn’t even think before she grabbed his face and kissed him in front of God and everybody, licking up whatever remained of the bitter-tasting drink. They ignored the cheers that erupted after that, simply indulging in each other for a few more seconds, until someone cleared their throat to remind James it was his turn to pick a new victim.
Sometime later, King had begrudgingly told the story of his first kiss, Carlos did an entire piece of Big Time Rush choreography without the music, and Graham had to hold hands with Miller until one of them passed out for the night.
Roxy thought she had done a pretty good job at hiding under the radar for most of the game, not being too loud or encouraging any of the more embarrassing asks, so when Miller slurred her name, it almost shocked her. “Roxanne? Truth or dare?”
As much as she suspected James would also like it if she removed a few articles of clothing, she didn’t want to take her chances in a room full of other guys. “Truth. Definitely truth.”
“Alright then,” Miller grinned, though one of his eyes blinked before the other as he thought up his question. “What’s your biggest fantasy?”
Idiot… Roxy smiled, hands playing with the plastic water bottle she had just finished. He didn’t specify what kind…
“I want a big house!” She blurted, “Like so big you want to ride a bike from one end to the other, and your legs hurt from walking up so many stairs. And a huge yard, huge… With a big lake that freezes over in the winter so we can skate on it and trails leading into the forest. Oh! And a music studio inside too, so I can make whatever I want and Gustavo can’t tell me no.”
At some point, James’ grip on her tightened, and she could feel his eyes on her as she continued to babble off whatever came to mind.
“And pets!” She yelled, so loud it almost frightened her, and she dropped the bottle to talk with her hands as she listed them all off. “Dogs… Cats… Turtles… Hamsters… We are going to have so many pets! And a place to show off all my instruments and all your platinum records, which are actually all my platinum records, but they’ll say your name on them because you’re in the band and I’m not, okay?”
By now, it was no secret she was speaking directly to James, considering they were basically staring at each other, as if there were nobody else in the room when she finally finished her thought. He was lapping up every single word his girlfriend was saying with eager nods, offering up no argument or additions to her fantasy.
“House, lake, trail, studio, pets, and… museum? I think I can manage all that for you,” James said, and she felt the circles from his thumbs begin again. “Anything else you’d like to add?”
Immediately, her face caught fire. It was one thing for her to rattle off all the silly things she’d thought of to avoid answering the real question Miller had been getting at, but the more she thought about it, the more truth her statement held than she’d originally intended.
She leaned into him giggling, “Yeah, actually-”
“Fifteen seconds to midnight!”
Everybody began to scramble, grabbing drinks, grabbing partners, grabbing 12 of the fresh green grapes from the kitchen counter. Everybody, except for James and Roxy, who were still locked in their loving gaze as their friends all contributed to the chaos around them.
“Ten-”
“Roxanne?”
“Nine, eight-”
“Hm?”
“Seven, six-”
“Can I kiss you?”
“Five, four-”
“You think you need to ask?”
“Three, two, one… Happy New Year!”
#thats all she wrote fic#big time rush#james diamond#kendall knight#logan mitchell#carlos garcia#james maslow#kendall schmidt#logan henderson#carlos penavega
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Roy/Jaime: Jaime has to fly out somewhere or go up to Manchester and shares tender goodbye with Roy. When he's scheduled to come back, a terrible disaster happens like the plane he's supposed to be on or the train he's meant to take crashes with multiple fatalities. Roy is beside himself thinking Jaime's dead. In reality Jaime is safe and sound on another flight or a different train with his phone switched off. Roy is grief-stricken and has to be medicated and put to bed. Jaime comes home late at night, completely oblivious. He climbs into bed with Roy who is completely unconscious with plans to wake up first and make his man his favorite breakfast. I expect Roy to full on faint when he comes downstairs the next morning, still thinking his Tartt is toast, only to find said Tartt toiling away in the kitchen making him fucking crepes. Cue the chaos, especially when Jaime learns of what went down and everyone thinking he was fucking dead! This can be Roy/Jaime/Keeley too if you like!
This is heartbreaking and I love it
Jamie getting invited to do a little travel documentary type thing for a charity he's involved in regarding suports in underfunded areas across the world during the off season. He's sad to miss training but it's only for two weeks and he's excited to do this. Him and Roy have been together long enough that they're serious. Roy has even cleared space in his closet for Jamie's clothes. Their goodbye involves a lot of kisses, some inappropirate groping (Roy will miss Jamie's ass, Jamie will miss Roy's....) but Roy drops him at the airport and waits until Jamie disappears through security before he leaves and goes home but it doesn't feel like home without Jamie and he already wants him home.
Jamie is due to fly in during the evening about two weeks later, and Roy is in a good mood which the team is delighted about. They were worried he'd try the strings on dicks again with the mood he's been in. They're all in the conference room, watching a match to analyse the plays when Rebecca rushes in and grabs Ted. Everyone is confused, and then their phones start pinging and one of them rushes to switch the laptop to the news and suddenly they're all staring at the BBC coverage of a plan crash that currently has no survivors.....and it was flying from where Jamie was last filming to London.
Roy instantly goes into denial, and when Rebecca renters the room with Ted, he just goes "No, it's not his plane", depite the flight number matching with the screenshot Jamie had sent Roy of the flight details along with a text saying "So you don't strand me at the airport grandad". He refuses to believe it, and they all sit there in disbelief watching, waiting hoping until Keeley is there.
"Roy....we have to....we have to give a statement. People have gotten word of him...that he was....that Jamie was on the plane"
"No. It's not him"
"Roy, there's no survivors"
"No, fuck you, fuck you for thinking it. Jamie isn't....He's not..."
"Roy...."
"He's not Keeley, he's not...he can't be...he's not gone"
When the news reports that Jamie Tartt is among those that were on the plane along with some of the crew of the documentary....Roy finally snaps. He just goes catatonic, stops responding. He's panicking, and thats when his sister arrives and when she hugs him, he breaks. She's the one that gets him home the team, even in their grief, distrat the media that has gathered despite Rebecca theatening to sue them all, and she gives him something to help sleep before she hasto go collect Phoebe, but she plans to come back in the morning.
Jamie, on the other hand, had actually finished filming early and decided to go straigh to the airport to get an earlier flight. He didn't charge his phone, so it dies while roy kent
he's waiting in the lounge and playing games to distract himself. When the news hits, he's on the plane, and people had seen him boarding so in the chaos, no one actually checks the logs until after 24hours and by that time, Jamie had made it home.
Its about 3am when he does. The driver of his transport that was order hours before his phone died barely paid attention to him, so no one actually realises Jamie Tartt isnt dead and he hadn't had to go through passport control. So when he slips into bed with Roy, he has no idea about any of it.....until he's cooking breakfast and turns around to find Roy, pale and wide eyed staring at him and just whispering, "Did I....Did I die too?"
#roy x jamie#roy kent/jamie tartt#roy kent x jamie tartt#ted lasso#ted lasso fic#roy kent#jamie tartt
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☆Self indulgent ☆ooc ☆selfharm ☆soft scara ☆ zero grammar
______________________________________________________________________________________
"Y/n! Y/N!!!! ANSWER ME FOR ARCHON'S SAKE!!!"
Despite all his irritation, worry began sinking in his vacant heart.
"Y/n....?" Calling once more, this time with panic in his voice.
Scara starts moving upstairs, ro the room where y/n usually spends her time working and planing. He always had sharp ears, no matter how much you try to hide your voice, tiny sobs of desperation and helplessness still force their way out of you and into the ears of your precious lover.
Immediately, scara connected the dots. You were having one of your episodes. Strangely enough he finds relief in knowing you were holing up inside the room rather than to be missing somewhere he can't follow.
*knock, knock* " I'm coming in ,okay?"
It wasn't a question, but a notice. Eventhough he rarely ever endulge in formalities when he is with you, he knows even the slightest influence could spiral your mentality deeper down than it already is from last experience.
Sure enough, you were lean against the wall in the corner once more, laying limp with scratches on the wall, hair on the floor, and blood dripping down your forearm, presumably cause by those broken nails of yours.
Even after so many times, he still couldn't bare such a sight. He close his eyes and breath rhythmically. Almost like an entirely different person from seconds ago, Scara has steel his nonexistent heart.
Slowly, he sits by your side and wraps one of his arms around you, the other patting your head. He once thought you to match your breathing with each of his pats as to stabilise you, at least enough for you to pull back to reality.
Feeling a slight head movement, Scara knows you've come back to him now.
"Let's go get you clean up, kay?" A nod in response. Scara slowly holds you up and support your body, walks to the toilet and sat you down on the toilet seat. He then went outside to grab the first aid kit but came back shortly after.
He first ties up your roughly cut hair and wipes ypur face with a wet cloth. After that, he examine the wounds, making sure if any of them need stitches. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding seeing your hand hasn't turn blue. You didn't lose too much blood this round, thank archons this time was a minor episode.
The wounds wasn't too serious , so Scara just disinfecte them, put some medicine and bandage them up nicely. Years of wandering has made him learn basic medical knowledge.
By then, you were already sleeping soundly. It seems you have exhausted all your energy. Scara make sure you're clean and proceed to carry you to bed. He stares at your peaceful face, the corners of his lips slightly lift up.
"At least you're alright now. "
#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche headcanons#scaramouche#genshin scaramouche#scaramouche x you#scaramouche x y/n
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Different Universe, Same Love: Bookstore AU
He's been like that for hours now… Should I call someone?
What do you do when your crush from class is sitting in your family bookstore, but he hasn't moved for hours? He was still breathing, pulse still seemed normal (though it was kinda freaky that he didn’t react to her putting her fingers on his neck). Houki tried calling his name several times and shaking his shoulder gently, to no effect.
Should she call a doctor? EMS? It didn't seem like a medical emergency when his vitals seemed okay. Maybe his dorm leader could help? She definitely wasn't prepared for this. Why did she have to be here by herself, today of all days? Stupid Cousin Jaiya for ditching her once their parents were out of town…
Taking in a calming breath, she touched Mitsunari on his shoulder once again.
"Mitsunari, I'm gonna go call Hideyoshi at the dorm. Just… just sit tight, okay?"
No reaction. Not that she expecting one, but she was hoping for some clue he was still on this plane of existence.
Well, she didn't have to wait long.
Before she could pull her hand away, something gripped her wrist, gentle yet firm. Houki looked down only to see his long fingers grasping her hand. His eyes were still glued to the book in his lap.
"M-Mitsunari?"
He didn't say anything nor did his face change. What was going on?
"Mitsunari, I need to go get my phone so I can call Hideyoshi. Can you please let me go?"
No response. And he still hadn't let go of her wrist.
"Please say something. You're scaring me."
Still no words out of him. Was she going to have to physically drag him so she could reach her phone, now seeming fathoms away at the checkout desk?
"Please… let go. I need to get my phone." She repeated.
Finally, he moved! Or at least his head was. Towards… towards her hand…
He…. He…
He kissed her hand. A sweet little peck, but a kiss nonetheless! Houki's cheeks warmed.
"Just one more paragraph," he said quietly. "Just one more, I promise."
Houki's entire face was on fire. Her crush just kissed her hand and had asked for another paragraph in a sleepy, husky voice. How on Earth are you supposed to react to that!?
------
My entry for the Bookstore AU for Houki and Mitsunari! Houki's family owns a bookstore and she crushes on a guy in her classes, Mitsunari. Imagine her surprise when he just shows up one day, the very day her parents are out of town (and being ditched by her cousin) and just stays for hours reading away?
In reality, he overheard her talking to her cousin (since they all go to the same college) about the 'rents going away for the week and (knowing Houki's cousin's reputation), he decides to keep her company.
An idea sounding sweet on paper, but in reality he falls into his reading trance and… yeah.
He's smart and sweet in some ways, others… not so much.
Thanks again to Mo (@xxsycamore) and Julie (@queengiuliettafirstlady) for hosting this event! This one was really fun!
#different universe same love ccc#ikemen sengoku#ikesen oc#mitsunari ishida#houki of jiyel#funnily enough#this can go along nicely with my entry for Mitsun and Houki from last year#not intentional but it can be seen that way
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May I request "asking your not yet lover to stay the night because you don't want to be alone" with Rick please?
Say You'll Stay | Rick Flag x Reader
Summary: Rick isn't himself after returning from a mission
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,043 words
As usual, you track Rick down to the medical bay. The prisoners – or at least those left standing – are safely back in their cells and have been for some time now. Their leader, on the other hand, has spent the last hour being patched up after yet another mission went sideways.
“Is it true?”
At the sound of your voice, Rick raises his head and finds you leaning against the doorway. A pair of soft hazel eyes meet yours across the room, but that familiar spark is nowhere to be seen.
Your gaze travels over his body, silently cataloguing a host of new injuries amongst the fading scars. His tanned chest is a latticework of cuts and scratches and a thin film of sweat and dirt coats his skin.
“Word travels fast, huh?” The ghost of a strained smile forms on his drawn but handsome face as he tries to stand up. “Thought you clocked off at five? Don’t tell me you been waitin’ all this time?”
“No,” you lie, pushing off the wall to offer him your hand. “I had to fill in some paperwork for Waller. God forbid her reports are turned in late.”
There’s nothing in Rick’s expression to suggest he doesn’t believe you as you help haul all 230 lbs of his weight onto his feet. He doesn’t need to know that despite your shift finishing a while ago, you’ve been anxiously awaiting the squad’s return. He certainly doesn’t need to know that since their return, you’ve been lurking outside this room, impatient for the doctors to finish up with him.
There’s about a dozen reasons why you wanted – needed – to see him. By now, you’re sure he’s noticed a pattern, noticed that no matter what time of day his plane lands, you find some excuse to be around. The reality is, Waller doesn’t give a shit about your reports. She'll cast her judgemental gaze over the files for a whole fifteen seconds before dismissing you from her sight.
Tonight, it’s different. Not least because you have to hear the words from his own mouth before you can truly believe it. Rick Flag is finally leaving ARGUS.
Once you’re satisfied that he’s not going to collapse, you drop his hand and take a step back. “So, you’re really doing this? You’re really quitting.”
Rick cocks his brow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think you cared.”
You huff out a laugh. He has no idea. “Who else am I going to torment with my bad coffee and poor musical choices?”
A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, but he doesn’t reply. Now that he’s standing, your attention returns to his physical condition and the patchwork of injuries decorating his body. There’s a particularly nasty puncture wound above his right hip that has been hastily stitched together, and you can tell he’s favouring his left leg. All in all, the Colonel is in pretty bad shape.
Breaking the silence that has descended over the small treatment room, you slip your car keys from your back pocket and jingle them slightly, before affecting a casual tone. “You want a ride?”
“My car’s in the lot.”
“I wasn’t asking about your car.”
His expression shifts, any attempt at masculine bravado fading as he scrubs a hand over his jaw and responds quietly. “Don’t wanna be any trouble.”
“Bit late for that,” you tease.
Again, he attempts to smile, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Your stomach somersaults. You’d expected him to argue, to insist that he’s fine. He’s never been one for accepting help, content to struggle in silence if it means saving face. But tonight, it seems like the fight has left him.
“Sure you don’t mind?”
Careful to keep the worry from your face, you pick up his kit bag and toss a clean shirt in his direction. Whatever he was wearing before has ended up in a bloody pile on the floor. “Not as long as you put some clothes on.”
Other than offering you directions, Rick is quiet during the car ride home. It seems any trace of the old Rick has been left behind at Belle Reve. He’s never been a man of many words, but your tentative questions about the mission are met by grunts and shrugs as you navigate your way to his apartment on the outskirts of town.
You want to shake him. You want to know what really went down on that small island. What happened to turn your friend into this shadow of his former self?
When you pull into his parking space, Rick makes no move to get out. Coming round to his side of the car, you open his door and help him out, shouldering his weight until he’s steady on his feet again.
Continuing your stream of consciousness, despite receiving little to no input from Rick, you walk him all the way to his front door. He doesn’t comment when you follow him over the threshold.
The apartment is dark, illuminated only by the watery moonlight spilling through the kitchen window. With his back to you, Rick dumps his bag on the sofa and stands in the middle of the room, staring off into the distance.
Fighting the urge to go to him, you hang back by the door. “You gonna be ok, Rick?”
He grunts again, a non-answer. Instinct is screaming at you not to leave him, but it feels wrong to intrude on his grief – if that’s what this is. Imposing your presence won’t help anyone if he wants to be alone.
Trying one last time, you call across the room. “You know you can talk to me, right?"
Without turning around, he nods.
Your shoulders slump, defeated. “Ok, well I’m going to head home now. Call me if you need anything.”
The door is halfway open before you hear him softly call your name, halting you dead in your tracks. With your fingers still gripping the handle you glance over your shoulder and find him finally facing you. Despite the distance, you can see that his eyes are limned with silver, sparkling in the pale moonlight.
“Rick?”
He utters a single word in response, his voice so deep and raw that you almost miss it.
“Stay.”
Joel Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @babblydrabbly @skvatnavle @sociiallydiisoriiented @yespolkadotkitty @heresathreebee @edwardbaldwin @fairchildflag @mayhem24-7forever @bewitchedignition @phoenixhalliwell @immyownlittlebitch @weallhaveadestiny @lavenderluna10 @kirsteng42 @katjnordstrom96 @s-u-t
#rick flag#joel kinnaman#rick flag x reader#rick flag x you#the suicide squad#rick flag fanfiction#dceu fanfic#tss 2021
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