#to be able to completely unperson someone.

[bananonbinary]

god, Exceptional Risk gets me so much, this guy isnt even an avatar but the way he TALKS about the prisoners he "guarded" is far more chilling than any of the supernatural shit

#the magnus archives #some of yall online still talk about people this way.... #'oooh they did the worst crimes so its totally okay for guards to beat them and torture them and murder them' #ive said before and i'll say it again. its not ABOUT whether they 'deserve' it #its about whether YOU deserve to do that sort of violence to someone who is completely at your mercy #its about what that does to a person and a society #and its about how dangerous a precedent it sets #to be able to completely unperson someone. #human rights HAVE to be unalienable or they arent rights

[mollish-art]

Is Unperson!Ran able to speak? :0 I’d assume not, hence why his responses to Hetch were conveyed only through thoughts, but at the same time I’m unsure because Adam appears capable of speaking despite not seeming like he’d be able to

Very good and pertinent question!

You are correct: Unperson!Ranboo is incapable of speech, as he neither has a tongue nor lips. But this does not mean that his is completely incapable of communicating altogether.

Adam is also unable to speak using his own voice. Instead, he has an internal mechanism that functions much like a speaker. He cannot speak with his own voice, but he can express his thoughts through copying the voice of someone he connects with (literally in this case, via the wire in his mouth). He also has the ability to copy not just the vocal patterns but the actual words of those he plugs into (e.g. like when he mimicked Charlie as he pointed out the kill-button).

#UnpersonGL

[myloveforhergoeson]

That's All She Wrote - Chapter 1

Find me on wattpad + ao3!

What Dreams Are Made Of (1.1) - 20k words

“What do you mean you won’t sing? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! When I tell you to sing, you sing. Now, sing or get off the stage!”

The large man in front of Roxanne Somerset was screaming at her from in front of the stage she stood upon. Understandably so, seeing as this was a pop star audition, not a songwriting contest; And she had just submitted a 15-song portfolio.

Roxy was trembling; the man yelling at her was Gustavo Rocque, one of the most influential music producers in the country, who was known for getting what he wanted whenever he wanted it. However, after weeks of no sleep and balancing her songwriting with her schoolwork, she was not going to let Gustavo have his way. She wasn’t leaving with ‘no’ for an answer.

After seeing the commercial on TV for Rocque Records' new talent search coming to Duluth, Minnesota, the young writer knew that this was her best shot at getting to Los Angeles and breaking into the music industry. Though Rocque was notorious for his sour and unpersonable demeanor, he was one of the best songwriters of the last decade. Writing and producing songs for the biggest boy bands of the ‘90s couldn’t have been easy, so she decided to spend the coming weeks grueling in her room to present 15 radio-ready pop songs in hopes that he might need a songwriting partner. The portfolio she had created was complete with lyric and music sheets, a cover letter, a resume, and letters of recommendation from her coworkers at the local radio station, Project Pop.

Carefully choosing the next words could make or break this audition, though it was hard for Roxy to think over the pounding of her heart ringing in her ears. 

In front of the stage, the man’s eyes were sunken in and lifeless, waiting for a response as his talent scout, Kelly Wainwright, ran the back of her hand over her forehead to remove the obvious beads of sweat as they trickled down. On the desk in front of them lay a copy of the girl’s portfolio, full of her best works, and a heaping pile of junk food wrappers so high she couldn’t discern if there was even room to take notes about the contestants. The longer the audition went on, the longer it was worrying her as the two fidgeted in their seats waiting - probably not a good sign for the writer.

“I know, Mr. Rocque, but if you could just look at the songs in front of you, they’re all ones I wrote with your new pop star in mind! I’m the last tryout of the day in the ‘Land of Nowhere’, Minnesota, and you need to go back to Los Angeles with someone, right? There are millions of people there, one of them has gotta be your star.” Roxanne choked out, watching Gustavo’s face grow redder by the second as Kelly quickly got up from her seat and ran towards the lobby of the venue. Compared to her boss, the busy woman was dressed in a far more formal manner as her long, brown hair bounced up and down with each step. Roxy could only assume that the next few minutes alone with the ‘90s megastar would be less than stellar.

Turning her attention forward, she looked Gustavo dead in the eye while he took his yellow-tinted glasses off. He was shaking and sputtering, trying to get a word out. Hopefully, Kelly would come back before the man ripped her to shreds. 

“Look, if you want me to sing some of them, I will, but you’re an excellent songwriter who knows a great hit when he sees it. I would be an incredible asset to your team, so please just take a look at the folder I gave you.” At this, he furrowed his eyebrows, but she continued, “I’m not in it for the money or the fame, I’m in it for the love of songwriting, and that will never change.”

From what she could tell, this seemed to calm Gustavo down. He took the portfolio of songs Roxy had set in front of him and flipped through it silently. There wasn’t any change on his face so she wasn’t able to determine his feelings towards her songs, but he did take out his phone to check something. Roxy spied the time, 5:57, from a clock on the back wall knowing full well the auditions ended at 6 o’clock sharp. She looked back at Gustavo, silently pleading with whatever forces may be to let him whisk her away to California. 

Out of fear, the girl began rambling and listing potential qualification points, “I can even do administrative work! I worked as a disc jockey and assistant for one of the radio stations here for almost two years so I know my way around a soundboard. And if you need someone to play guitar for your tracks - I can do that too. I was even in a band for a bit before we broke up due to, uh, creative differences.” 

Gustavo looked up from the music sheets he was reading and Roxy felt a slight pain as her heart stopped. He could have her blacklisted from ever working in entertainment for stepping even a toe out of line, and she knew this fact well. But, she still stepped up to challenge the seasoned songwriter. 

It had been a long time since Rocque Records had a star, and she was willing to do anything it took to be on their team.

When he finally spoke again, it was clear and commanding:

“Go wait in the lobby.”

Maybe everyone from LA was as heartless as rumors had it - but the answer she had been given wasn’t exactly a no. 

“Yes, sir,” Roxy called out, footsteps echoing in the large room while she vacated the theater as fast as humanly possible. If she had stayed any longer, her big, hopeful smile might have betrayed her. 

Please, please, please let there be last-minute sign-ups. The girl silently begged. Time to find Gustavo a shining star.

On the way out, Kelly rushed past her back into the theater and she could hear snippets of her conversation with her boss. Something about four new applicants for the contest with only a few minutes to spare. The woman then reminded her superior that their jobs were on the line and he should maybe be a bit nicer to the next contestants. 

Stopping the stage door from closing too loudly, she slowly made her way out, hardly believing her ears. Everything was coming up Roxanne. 

If she could find the new tryouts before they faced the grouchy producer, she might be able to give them some pointers, or convince them to stand up for themselves as she did. One of these four individuals might be the reason Gustavo Rocque would take her to Hollywood and let her work as a songwriter for the rest of her life - she just had to catch them first. 

As Roxy pushed past the curtains into the lobby she saw a handful of teenagers like herself, crying and waiting in the chairs off to the side of the venue lobby, hoping that the mighty Gustavo Rocque would change his mind  and make them a star. The image was quite sobering, causing her to wipe the smile off her face. Who knew what a jealous wannabe would do to someone looking happy after a meeting with Rocque? 

Avoiding as many people as he could, she walked to the opposite side of the lobby towards the check-in desk where she saw a group of four teenage boys bickering and switching numbered stickers indicating their place in the contest. 

Bingo. 

Kelly then emerged from the theater and called for 810, the number after the songwriter’s, and Roxy watched a nervous-looking scholar type make his way past the curtains. Now that she had found them, all she needed was an in. 

How does one go about warning a bunch of cute guys about a soul-sucking music producer without bruising their egos?

Dealing with her own dilemma, Roxy quickly noticed that not even a minute after he entered, the boy with the 810 sticker returned, climbing into his seat to rock back and forth while he muttered something about Gustavo being Satan incarnate. The girl felt a pang of guilt for not getting to them earlier; she might have been able to prevent someone else from facing Gustavo’s wrath. It didn’t bother her too much as Gustavo spat his venom at her for refusing to sing, but the four boys she saw earlier were all quite handsome and looked as though they were practically built to be famous. There was no need to take his fear of unemployment out on the other contestants. 

She grabbed some tissues out of her little backpack and walked over to him, hoping to get to the next guy before he went in. 

As Roxanne stepped up to the shaking boy, Kelly called for 811 and a boy wearing a black helmet ran inside.

“Hey, take a couple of tissues. Mr. Rocque is out of control, so try not to take his words to heart.” 

The sniffling boy stopped crying to look up at her with clear brown eyes.   Graciously accepting the tissues, he dried his eyes before introducing himself. 

“Thanks, it means a lot,” he said with a newfound smile, dabbing at the corners of his eyes. In her peripheral vision, she saw his friend’s heads turn to see who was able to calm him down. “I’m Logan Mitchell. And these are my friends, James Diamond and Kendall Knight, and the guy inside, probably getting crushed by Gustavo, is Carlos Garcia.”

The other two gave Roxy a polite wave and, by the way James’ hand was shaking, she could tell he was terrified after Logan’s report. She shook Logan’s hand and introduced herself to the trio. 

“I was in just before you. I’m Roxanne Somerset.” She introduced herself as she waved her ‘809’ sticker in the air and sat down in the chair Carlos had been using. “And Gustavo is desperate to find someone, so you two do your best, okay? You can’t let him intimidate you. As I walked out of my audition I heard him telling his assistant that if they didn’t bring someone home tonight, they’re fired.” 

As she finished, the four of them heard a reverberated fart noise coming from the theater followed by Gustavo’s screams as Carlos ran out of the theater cackling all the way to where his friends were seated. Not even batting an eye at the newcomer in his chair, he slapped his helmet with a loud crack! as he took an empty chair by Kendall. 

“Do you go to Mountain Aire?” Logan asked her, seemingly out of the blue.

Mountain Aire High School, where Roxy attended, serviced the four small towns in the area. Originally, she had attended a school closer to the Duluth radio station she worked at as per her father’s request, but he had finally allowed her to transfer to MAHS over the winter break. Though the drive was a bit more exhausting from work to school, she was happy to finally spend some time getting to know the kids in her area. 

With a nod, she turned to him. “Yeah. Do you four? I just transferred there this semester from Twin Pines.”

Logan cracked a smile, “I knew I’d seen you somewhere before!”

“New Girl, nice!” James commented, a light nervous break in his voice before a silence washed over the waiting room.

Soon after, Kelly entered the lobby calling for 812 and James quickly tried to switch numbers with the other remaining boy. His blond friend blocked his grasp, protecting his sticker with one of his hands. 

“James… This is your dream, not mine. Remember, opportunities like this come once in a lifetime. Now, grab onto that dream with both hands and go big time.” 

With a shove from Kendall, the taller boy began to walk towards the stage, completely blank-faced. Roxy turned to give him a quiet “good luck!” before he disappeared through the stage doors. 

Spinning back around, she saw the remaining three in a team-style huddle, whispering and looking stealthily toward her. Roxy did her best to ignore this, but before she knew it, Logan grabbed her hand and dragged her into the theater behind Kendall and Carlos. 

“This is James’ dream,” he whispered to her as they snuck down an aisle in the back of the theater to hide behind some seats, “We all want to be there when he achieves it - New Girl included.”

The writer was quite surprised at the display of affection between the four. They must be very good friends, so she nodded and followed the group as James began to sing. 

His piece was a slow Smokey Robinson and The Miracles song she recognized from one of the oldies stations the radio station serviced, and the boy she had just met both looked and sounded good singing it. While his higher-pitched voice was an excellent rendition of the slow, sad song, it also blended perfectly with the acoustic properties of the theater. Gustavo would be a fool to not take him to Hollywood, and the surprise was clear on the producer’s face. But in true Rocque style, the man scrunched his face before the end of the verse, startling James, who went in too early with his high note. 

Roxy gasped and a hand flew over her own from Logan beside her. It was an extremely comforting gesture, and the brunette’s laser focus on his friend on stage served as a reminder not to interrupt his audition. There was potential it would be even worse for James if Gustavo found the group in the theater; he still had a shot at stardom and they couldn’t ruin that for him. She nodded once and he removed his hand as everyone focused on James, who had stopped singing completely, and was now squabbling with the producer at the front. 

“But I’m good!” The boy fought back, only to be hit with the full force of Gustavo’s rage. 

“I don’t need good, I need the fire, okay?”

James looked very hurt and confused as Gustavo yelled about the pop star wannabe having no talent. 

Idiot. The girl thought. He’s got the fire, for sure. 

Beside her, Roxy felt Kendall shift to stand before she grabbed onto his wrist and pulled him back down. “Are you sure you want to intervene? You could ruin his audition.” She quietly questioned as the boy nodded toward her. As much as she didn’t want to let him leave and interrupt, it wasn’t fair to let James take the producer’s abuse if someone was willing to stand up for him. So, she let him go. 

Her eyes widened as Kendall yelled out to Gustavo, attempting to start a fight with the hit producer as he made his way towards the stage, mocking one of his previous ‘90s hits before jumping on the table and kicking the food that adorned it at him. Though it was clear the blond was angry, he still gave a good (albeit snarky) rendition of “Girl to My Heart”. 

Kendall’s got the fire, too.

Roxy bit back a laugh as he switched up songs and started singing about how much of a turd Gustavo was before two large security guards in annoyingly yellow jackets came and ripped him off the table. 

Now, Kendall was locked in a struggle with the guards who were previously guarding the entrance to the theater. As they dragged him off the table and towards the ground, Roxy heard Carlos ask about something related to juvie for trying to break Kendall free. Long before Logan was able to answer she was already sprinting down the aisle of the theater towards the fight before leaping onto one of the guard’s backs to free her new friend. 

Another second went by and Carlos was next to her, crashing his helmet into the other man holding his friend, trying to help her pull them off of Kendall. It was turning into an all-out brawl, but it would be hard for Roxy to admit she wasn’t having fun. She wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, even if it meant taking on guys twice her size. 

Doing her best to keep the guard at bay, she tried to pull his arm out of Kendall’s, to no avail. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw another guard approach as the one she was holding onto roughly pushed her off and she fell to the floor, crashing into it with her hip and splitting open her elbow.

“Shit.” She breathed in pain, feeling the side of her body begin to throb in sharp waves of pain from the hard impact on the ground. 

At the sight of a woman to impress, James contemplated his actions on stage, tapping the microphone a few times before putting it back onto the stand he was previously using. With a look toward Gustavo, the boy gave out a yell and leaped from the stage onto the new guard. 

Watching in awe, still slightly dizzy from her impact, Roxy spotted Logan running down the steps from his hiding place, reaching her side in an instant and helping her to safety. Once she was tucked away behind a seat, free from accidentally being trampled, he joined his friends in the battle. 

They kept fighting, making sure to insult and curse Gustavo with every hit until the police eventually showed up to break apart the two sides. Officers caught up with the girl easily enough, grabbing each of her arms and pulling her up before roughly placing her in a bitterly cold pair of handcuffs, but it took a few policemen each to peel the boys off of the security guards that had apprehended Kendall. After the five teens were restrained they were asked a few general questions, of which Roxanne answered none, before being shoved into the back of a pair of squad cars. 

***

Roxy was now standing in front of the fireplace in the Knight residence’s living room with her partners in crime as Kendall’s mother and adorable little sister began interrogating the five. The writer was quite shaken; she had never been in a fight before, but she was glad Mrs. Knight was only questioning the four boys she seemed to know very well. The last thing the songwriter needed was for Mrs. Knight to question her or call her dad about all the trouble. 

Examining her surroundings, it was clear the Knights lived comfortably and their abode was incredibly homey, with a faint smell of cinnamon wafting in from the kitchen. The atmosphere was great, but Roxy wished her first visit could’ve been under different circumstances. 

“Dude, how did you know those songs?” Carlos questioned in astonishment as he leaned over and whispered to Kendall, who stood in between Roxy and Logan. 

“They play Boyquake on the Project Pop channel all day at work,” he replied.

“Dude, no way. I’m Rockin’ Roxy from Pro-Pop! They play my set where you work?” Roxanne butted in, excited to finally have met someone who had listened to her show.

Her statement took him aback, “Woah, that’s sweet… and I made up The Giant Turd Song.” The blond finished with a mischievous smile.

Maybe he should be the songwriter instead, the girl reflected, losing track of the conversation and choosing to continue familiarizing herself with her new surroundings.

Upon further inspection, she determined the other three boys spent just as much time as Kendall did in the house. The brown coffee table in front of the sectional couch was riddled with medical school flyers and test prep books which were presumably Logan’s; who the entire ride to the house was complaining that this incident would scar his permanent record and destroy his chances of getting into a good med school. On the decorative key rack by the front door hung a familiar black helmet as well as a warm-looking hockey jersey in the signature MAHS colors, red and gold, with the name “Garcia” delicately embroidered into the back. 

As Logan told his part of the story, a scoff came from the young girl who stood beside her parent with her arms crossed menacingly over her chest. The two ladies looked nothing alike, but both seemed to have a very commanding presence. Pretty weird for someone so young, especially because she had the same mischievous grin as her brother currently plastered on her face. 

The four friends finished describing everything to Kendall’s surprisingly understanding mother, but the injured girl had to interject when the blond mentioned no one had gotten hurt. She tapped on Logan’s arm and quietly asked if he could get a bandage to patch up the arm she scraped when she fell from the guard’s back. Roxy was going to be alright, her physical wound was nothing compared to the pain of not getting chosen by Gustavo, but she knew she could write songs from anywhere at any time. If Los Angeles wasn’t in the cards, so be it - she just needed a ticket to the big time here in Duluth.

Maybe these four will form a band with me.

Her new friend quickly led her to the bathroom and that was where she found traces of someone she could only assume was James as Logan dove under the sink to find the first aid kit. White marble countertops between the two sinks were riddled with various ‘Cuda aerosol cans smelling suspiciously of the long-haired boy - something she wasn’t shocked the wannabe used - and a smattering of hair care products. 

Once Logan emerged, he laid out some disinfectant and scrape ointment as well as a large bandage from a bag that looked strangely like a hockey puck and explained how to properly take care of her cut. With a ‘thanks’ from the girl, he excused himself so he could join his friends back in the living room, closing the door to give her some privacy.

Grateful for the supplies given to her, she set to work, wincing when the disinfectant made contact with her skin. The pain was welcome as it took her mind off the events from earlier in the day.

Peeling the bandage out of its pack distracted her from the two sets of footsteps coming down the hallway.

“Kendall, honey, hold on.” A soft voice from Mrs. Knight came as the two stopped walking, “Who’s the girl?”

“Roxanne?” Her son replied in a voice equally as soft. “We met in the audition hall, she helped us in the figh- the scuffle. The scuffle with security.” 

His nervous laugh came out a bit louder than it probably should have.

“Ah,” She breathed. “Do you want me to call her parents?”

His reply was instant, “No, no. She seemed frazzled when the cops showed up so I told them we were all friends and they brought us here. I’m sure she probably let her parents know on the way over. We dragged her into it anyway, so there’s no need to get her in trouble at home for something we caused.” 

“That’s very thoughtful of you. Please make sure she feels welcome here.”

“Of course, Mom.” His footsteps began to grow closer to the living room before he called out. “Oh! And thanks for being cool about this whole thing. I promise I’ll do the dishes for a whole month.”

“Make it two, dear!”

Light sentence. The girl mused. But sweet of him to take the fall for me considering I basically started the fight. 

Once Roxy finished patching up her wound, she emerged to hear the four singing ‘The Giant Turd Song’ to Kendall’s little sister, who looked very impressed with the group. As they made their way to the kitchen for a sandwich promised by Mrs. Knight, the doorbell rang and the teens froze in their tracks. 

They turned toward the entryway as Kendall made his way to the door, opening it to reveal Gustavo and Kelly, freezing on the front porch. Everyone, except James, let out a yelp and Roxy began to shake again at the sight of the evil man. 

The pop star wannabe pushed himself past the girl, shoving her into Logan, as he cheered and hugged Gustavo, hoping the man was there for him. 

“I’m not here for you, I’m here for them.” The producer announced as he pushed James off of him and gestured to both Kendall and Roxanne, starstruck in the doorway.  

***

Roxy’s heart had leapt out of her chest twenty minutes ago, and she had not been able to put it back in since. 

The four boys had huddled in the kitchen after Gustavo and Kelly had accepted a gracious offer of tea from Mrs. Knight, so Roxy escaped to the living room with a cup of water, admiring the many family pictures that decorated the walls. 

Although she was excited for herself, she didn’t know if Gustavo wanted her as an assistant, or as a songwriter. Maybe both, since she had marketed herself as such. But she was going to take any offer the man would give her and get out of old Minnesota. Los Angeles was where she belonged. 

From the corner of her eye, she could spy on the large group in the kitchen. James looked so sad he could cry a river and kept trying to convince Gustavo he was the better choice, while Kendall looked entirely uninterested in the result of Gustavo’s choice to make him a pop star. She hoped the boys’ friendship would survive no matter what the satan-like producer would throw at them. 

When all his efforts went wasted, James moved into the family room and sat next to the elated girl on the end of the couch.

“How did you do it?” 

The question rang clear in the room as the people in the kitchen were busy laughing at something one of the boys had said. 

“I didn’t do anything. I wouldn't even sing for him,” Roxy breathed out, too excited to even hold a proper thought, let alone conversation. 

She knew her answer would upset James, and she could already see the red of anger creep up his ears. When she turned to face him, they locked eyes and she could see that he was on the verge of tears. 

“Oh, I see,” he coughed, running a hand through his brown hair absentmindedly. “You are pretty cute, and I’m sure your voice must be incredible, so you’ll make a great pop star. And Kendall must have been good enough to convince Gustavo to take the both of you. I’m happy for you two.” 

The last sentence came out in a whisper, and Roxy realized she was slightly embarrassed by the kind words of the almost-stranger beside her. It was like he blamed himself for not earning the pop star position, not the loud, overbearing producer. 

Roxy put a hand on his shoulder to try and help calm the long-haired boy down. “I’m not going to be a star, so you don’t have to worry about learning my secrets or trying to take my spot. My dream is to be a songwriter, so I signed up today and brought a portfolio with me. Gustavo was so pissed I thought he would destroy the building with a scream after I told him I wouldn’t sing. I guess I ended up convincing him that I would be a great addition to Rocque Records.”

James’ big brown eyes widened as a thought connected. 

“When I walked in, Gustavo had asked me to sight-read a song he brought with him, but I picked it up and threw it over my shoulder because I wanted to have my own prepared song. Maybe that was one of yours. If it was, I’m sorry, Roxanne.” 

A genuine apology was shocking coming after his melodramatic displays all the way from the theater to the Knight’s home, but she quickly accepted it and whispered that her friends just call her “Roxy” as the kitchen group made their way into the living room to join the pair. 

Gustavo pulled a chair in front of the couch where the teens sat with Kelly standing behind him and began to lay out the expected terms for Kendall and his family while sipping their tea. His mother and sister were beaming, while Gustavo talked about an all-expense-paid trip to LA for one month to make an EP of five demo tracks. Throughout the talk, Kendall was extremely disinterested; how Gustavo didn’t figure that out confused Roxy. As she was trying to comprehend the producer’s people skills, James started singing his audition song again, causing Gustavo to snap at him. 

Roxanne gave Gustavo a glare and linked her arm through James's, giving the sad boy a gentle smile. 

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered as Kendall and Gustavo started arguing logistics. “You’ll be able to visit him while he records his tracks and you’ll still be able to make it if you’re seen together. Probably.”

The thought of being famous by association calmed him down slightly as he patted her arm in silent thanks. 

Once Gustavo was tired of arguing with Kendall over the terms of their agreement, he called Roxanne’s name so loud she jumped. 

“Thank you, Mr. Rocque, you won’t regret your decision to hire me, I’ll make sure of it.” 

“I better not, so help me. As of now, you’re on board as Kendall’s assistant. If you do well enough, I’ll consider looking at one of your songs. Just don’t step out of line and go boy-crazy or fame-hungry like the horrible assistants of my past. One word and I’ll have you shipped back here so fast your head will spin.”

Fame-hungry? He’s out of his mind. Boy-crazy? I might have some trouble there.

A voice from the other side of the couch spoke up, “Mr. Rocque, don’t talk to Roxanne like that… please…” Logan squeaked out. 

She was a part of their lives now and no one would talk to her so harshly. It was nice to see Logan take a stand for what he believed in. A smile of appreciation grew on her face as she winked at her defender, while Gustavo complained about his attitude. 

She gave the man a grateful ‘okay’ as an answer to get Logan out of the hot seat, praying Kendall would accept Gustavo’s offer. 

“So, what do you say, Kendall?” Gustavo addressed Kendall after taking a sip of his tea. 

The room was silent for a few seconds before the blond responded. 

“No.” 

Upon his reply, Roxy ducked into James’ shoulder as Gustavo shattered the teacup he was holding. Carlos started laughing at his display of anger, while the enraged producer stood up and walked straight through the front door to the outside - not bothering to turn back to see if the boy regretted his decision and immediately changed his mind. 

There were crashing and shattering noises beyond the house walls as Kelly threw a large stack of 100 dollar bills down on the coffee table for the damages. Looking to console Gustavo as quickly as possible, she handed Kendall her business card. 

“You should think about this, Kendall. We leave tomorrow at 2,” the woman said as she left the Knight's house. 

As shocked as the group was, Roxy was even more shocked that Kelly hadn’t given any mention of when she was going to leave with the two of them. After a second, it all clicked.

Almost instantly, the color drained from her face. The girl dropped her plastic water cup on the ground, splashing it all over the carpet as she realized she wasn’t going to Hollywood unless Kendall decided to make the trip. 

“T-they won’t take me. Unless Kendall goes. Oh, my God. No… This can’t be happening…” 

Trying to take a step forward to talk to Gustavo, she wobbled and fell back down on the couch; shaking so badly she couldn’t even move properly. She was fine earlier, he hadn’t rejected her per se, but after the realization that her success depended on Kendall, it showed just how little Gustavo thought of her. Before she even knew it tears were slipping down her face and she stood up again to ask Mrs. Knight for a ride home. 

So much for the ‘It’ll be alright’ talk I had with James. 

The mother graciously accepted, grabbing her car keys and wrapping a warm blanket from the hallway closet around the inconsolable girl. The three boys stared at Kendall, both shocked at his decision and looking for ways to help Roxanne stop crying.

Before Mrs. Knight left with their new friend, Roxy turned back to the group and did her best to speak through her sniffling. 

“Thanks for tonight, guys, I had a lot of fun.” 

Forcing a smile, she made her way out to Mrs. Knight’s car. 

***

The following morning, after Roxanne had enough courage to roll out of bed, she threw on an old pair of sweats and wobbled out to the kitchen. Calling out into the hallway, she wondered if her dad was home, and as usual, there was no response. The home phone port didn’t display a blinking light, meaning no one had called to detail the affair she had been involved in the previous night or even left a message. Thank God for Mrs. Knight.

However, she did notice a note left on the kitchen counter. Upon further examination, it was from her father. 

Hey, kiddo! 

Hope the audition went well, I wish we got to talk about it yesterday! Sorry for the long shifts… Maybe we can have our last meal in Minnesota together tonight. Take the keys to my truck if you need them, a work buddy gave me a ride to the mine today. Have a superior day!

Much love, Dad

Sounds like they’d have a lot to talk about tonight, starting with his use of terrible puns. Their town bordering on Lake Superior left room for low-quality jokes, which her father constantly repeated as if they were the funniest thing in the world. Since he was offering her car keys, she wouldn’t scratch it out and write something better like “What do you call it when touching copper makes you break out in hives? A metallurgy!” in reference to his job as the foreman of the local copper mine. 

How do I even go about telling him that I had my shot and someone else blew it? 

Not dwelling on the thought any longer, Roxy decided to take him up on the offer of his truck. Gratefully, she grabbed the keys off the rack beside the front door, locking it as she made it out to the driveway and her favorite thing in the world, Dynamo. 

Dynamo was, at first glance, the ugliest truck on the planet. His deep blue paint was chipped in many places and the seats were shredded from years of wear and tear, but as long as it drove, it could take Roxy anywhere. The music would have to play incredibly loud to drown out the terrible sound of the engine, sputtering at every red light just to keep the machine running; and since it was such an old vehicle it only tuned into the radio or ancient cassette tapes, she and her dad shopped for at the thrift store when he taught her how to drive last year. Her father was lucky to have found the old clunker at such a cheap price, and since he typically caught rides to work on the city bus or with co-workers, Dynamo essentially belonged to her. 

Sliding the key into the door, it unlocked and she climbed in. It took a few times for the engine to turn over, but once she got it running, she made a beeline for the grocery store. A self-care day was long overdue. 

Driving on the icy roads in an old gas guzzler normally would’ve worried her, but Dynamo was ultra-reliable, and her dad had been sure to chain up the tires after the snowstorm a few days ago. Living in the midwest just meant she had a whole boatload of nothing to do until it snowed - then having a whole boatload of nothing to do while freezing her butt off. So, self-care day it was.

Quickly pulling up to the Sherwood grocery store, Roxy made her way through aisle after aisle picking up various snacks and beauty products, even deciding to splurge on a couple of old horror movies to watch in the night. Anything to take her mind off the events of yesterday - even if it meant being scared out of her wits. 

The trip didn’t take too long, and at checkout, she had just enough money to buy her items. Now, the girl regretted spending her last paycheck on fancy folders and stationery for the portfolio Gustavo practically threw straight into the garbage. Nonetheless, she bagged her items and exited the store, looking forward to this week’s paycheck.

Maybe I could make a ‘Singer, drummer, bass player wanted!’ poster and have a few copies made at the print shop…

She fumbled around in her small backpack for her keys as she crossed into the parking lot, too caught up in her thoughts about her next potential ticket to Hollywood to be aware of her surroundings. 

“Roxy, move!” Someone who sounded an awful lot like James Diamond yelled and she looked up to confirm, only to be met with a shopping cart to the gut. 

Helplessly, she fell backward on impact due to the icy road as the contents of her bags spilled out of the weak paper bags she had chosen at checkout. 

Sitting up, she brushed the gravel and snow out of her hair and picked up a couple of her things, trying to shove them back into the bags as swiftly as possible. A chorus of ‘sorry’ surrounded her as four familiar faces greeted her when she tried to stand up. 

Crushing my dreams and my groceries the girl thought, biting her tongue to avoid spewing out hateful nonsense. At least three of them didn’t deserve it.  

“Wow, you have a lot of junk food in here. Are you going through a breakup?” Carlos asked her as he picked up some of her groceries, seemingly unable to recall the events of last night. 

“A break up of sorts,” she mumbled as she grabbed one of the bags out of his hands. “I’ve got ice cream, guys, I’ve got to go get it in the freezer. Nice seeing you.” 

“Roxanne, it’s 25 degrees. It won’t melt.” Logan said as he picked her chocolate chip ice cream off of the road. “Excellent flavor choice!” 

Kendall, dressed in a bright red Sherwood store uniform, lifted her up and gave her the final bag. Of all the people she wanted to see today, he was the lowest on her list. It wasn’t his fault, she knew that and she had accepted that. On the ride home last night, Mrs. Knight had told her it was his dream to be a hockey player and was currently playing for MAHS with his three best friends. Still, she couldn’t help but hold a little resentment towards him and Gustavo. He was going to follow his dreams, just like she had planned on when she went to the audition, and it wasn’t fair to fault him for that no matter how much it hurt her.

Carlos spoke again, “Well if you’re troubled over a breakup, we can help! James dumps girls all the time and we know just the way to cheer them up. Shopping cart golf!”

Taking one of the carts the grocery store attendant was organizing in the lot, Carlos spun it around to face one of the cart corrals across the road. “Kendall, if I get a hole-in-one, you have to call that mean producer guy back.”  

Roxanne held back a laugh when Carlos mentioned James’ dating history, but was unable to muster the courage to let it out before the boy in the helmet jumped into a shopping cart and launched himself towards the corral on the other side of the street. Examining his surroundings before he sped off would have done him some good, as his cart was hit by an oncoming car, sending the thrill-seeker flying out in the opposite direction. 

It was terrible to laugh, but the four still standing nearly doubled over, not even trying to contain their hysteria. Once Carlos came back unscathed thanks to his trusty helmet, Roxy tried to say her goodbyes yet again. Before she could, however, those who were not selected to be pop stars wouldn’t let her pass as they continued trying to convince Kendall to call the powerhouse producer back. It was a nice gesture, but the girl didn’t want to think about what could have been. Reopening day-old wounds didn’t feel like a great way to start her weekend, especially since she was doing her best to move on.

While James and Kendall were busy talking about the contents of the wannabe’s long coat in a completely unrelated conversation, Logan leaned over to Roxy. 

“He really is sorry for crushing your dream, it’s all he was thinking about last night. He almost called Gustavo the second you left to renegotiate.” 

“That’s so…” the songwriter trailed off, trying to find the words. “But everything is going to work out, I would feel horrible if he changed his mind for my sake. If I am meant to be a songwriter, I will be one. If not, that’s alright too - I’ve already got a pretty sweet job anyway.”

The last sentence hurt to say, but it was true. There was a great job at the radio station that was always open for her, especially since no one wanted to occupy the airwaves from 2 am-6 am like she normally did. And if Kendall wanted to keep working at Sherwood forever, she was sure they would love to have him. 

The two made their way back into the main conversation. 

Kendall looked like he was forming a plan in his head as he took in the words the other boys had been trying to drive into his skull. “You’re saying if you all had a chance to go to L.A. with a giant turd producer to record demos, you’d go?” 

Before Kendall could blink, all four of the teens standing before him held out their cell phones, begging him to make the call. And with Kendall’s turn of shopping cart golf came a hole-in-one. 

***

The white Rolls-Royce limousine of Rocque Records came to a screeching halt outside of the Sherwood. 

Stepping out of the vehicle with Kelly in tow, Gustavo looked simultaneously bothered and relieved that the teen had called him back as he stepped up to face him and intended to get him on a flight to California as soon as humanly possible. 

“Okay,” Kendall began, “I’ll go to L.A. with you and record some demos. If… you take my buds and make us a singing group... with our amazing new songwriter-assistant.”

Roxy wobbled a bit and steadied herself on Logan’s arm after processing what Kendall had said. It might have been nice to mention that part of his plan beforehand, but she wasn’t in a position to complain.

Gustavo was pissed, face reddening as he claimed that he was the only one who could make deals, but Kendall never wavered and kept his all-or-nothing deal.

“There is no way Gustavo Rocque is takin’ the four dawgs, and Roxanne, from Minnesota to Los Angeles to make them stars. It’s never gonna happen! Ever!” The desperation in his voice was apparent. 

He needed anything he could get, and the band’s new frontman replied confidently. It was clear he possessed the upper hand during the entire negotiation.

“So… We have a deal.” Kendall smiled, victorious once again over their new boss.

“Yup.” 

At Gustavo’s agreement, Roxy rejoiced, happy to trade last night’s tears for a better display of emotion. The four boys were ecstatic about going to California to make it big; they were jumping all over each other and screaming Kendall’s name, eventually ditching him to run a few laps in the snow.

While the three continued running around the parking lot, their new songwriting assistant made her way over to Kendall, grinning ear to ear.

“If you don’t want to do this, you know it’s okay to say so, right?” 

Kendall was touched by her concern, “Don’t worry about it Rox, I think everything worked out perfectly.” 

“I couldn’t agree more,” she said, finally relieved of all the stress from the past 12 hours. Wrapping her arms around the boy’s waist, she thanked him. “I’m going to be the best assistant and songwriter anyone in Hollywood has ever seen.” 

***

The second the airplane hit the ground in sunny Los Angeles, Roxy swore she would never fly again. Planes were terrifying; they constantly shook and the turbulence left her so sick she couldn’t even throw up while they were in the air. She spent all four hours on the flight miserable, then another 20 minutes in the bathroom at the LAX arrival terminal taking as much medicine as she could to ensure the rest of the trip would go smoothly. Mrs. Knight even held her hair back until the contents of the girl’s stomach were more than empty, while Katie kept her water bottle coming.

Roxy thanked the pair over and over as she grabbed her toothbrush from her overnight bag to freshen up. So concerned with her own condition, she realized she hadn’t checked on the band. Hopefully, they were in a far better state. 

Once she emerged, the boys ran over - flustered over her condition. Logan had offered her a ginger ale from the terminal convenience store, Kendall handed her a pack of Sea-Bands while Carlos asked her a million questions to make sure she was okay.   

“Oh, glad you’re alright,” James offered, acting all official and nonchalant. “Can’t have our assistant getting sick and not doing her job.” 

Logan punched him in the shoulder and the long-haired boy fell back, grumbling an insincere apology. 

“I may be your assistant but as of right now, I’m off the clock. My work starts once we get to Rocque Records and get our contracts in order.”

It had scared her father quite a bit after she had called him on her cell a few hours ago, screaming and crying that she and her new friends were chosen by the record company’s talent search. Rushing home from work, he was able to have a nice lunch with her and together they went over the details of her employment while they packed her things. Since she didn’t require a talent contract as the boys did, it was a lot easier to convince her dad she needed full autonomy over her bank account. He was more excited about her lodging situation - a one-bedroom apartment right next to the band in the famous Palm Woods Hotel - which he had to negotiate with Gustavo over the phone to assure his daughter wouldn’t be living with four teenage boys. 

Now, she called him again to let him know they landed safely, and that she already missed him, before making her way through the massive halls of LAX with the band, Mrs. Knight, and Katie.

Everyone was able to find their luggage and Roxy was more than elated to see her guitar, which she worried would get damaged in transport, in one beautiful piece. They made their way out to the arrival terminal’s street to be picked up - the hustle and bustle of cars and taxis in the big city were quite overwhelming. Within minutes of getting on the curb, what seemed like the longest limousine in all of Los Angeles pulled up with the Rocque Records logo and the boys rushed over, piling in one by one. The four of them sat in the back, while the ladies took seats on the side. Gustavo and Kelly had taken a private car ahead to get everything set up at the hotel that would house them for the next month of demo-making. 

Looking out the windows as they drove, it was like every movie about Hollywood was flashing at each street turn. Palm trees lined the street and when she rolled down the windows, she could smell the salt of the ocean coupled with the disgusting exhaust let out by the millions of cars on the highway. James quickly rolled the window back up, not wanting to ruin his hairdo, but minutes later stuck his head out of the window with Kendall, while Carlos and Logan hung out of the sunroof. They passed through Beverly Hills, all the way beyond Bel Air, and finally made their way down Sunset Boulevard, toward the hotel. Roxy could hardly believe all that they had seen over the short drive as they connected onto Hollywood Boulevard. 

As she was admiring the scenery, inspiration took hold. There was never really a time or place for her to write, but once she had a lyric or a tune she had to write it down or she would lose it. Fumbling for her bag, she took out her favorite red pen and black leather bound journal and started to draw the music staff with the notes she had come up with. The limo was loud inside, blasting pop song after pop song, so she tried her best to repeat the words to herself until she finally got them down on the page. 

What you want, what you feel

Never quit and make it real -

“Dah, dah, dah, dah, dah,” she hummed the rest of the tune, drawing the notes out on the page in hopes she could decipher them later. 

The guys shot her a weird look, but she ignored them as another line flowed after the first. 

Make it work, get it right

Change the world overnight-

The lines were parallel and were to be put in different verses of the song, but it was killing her that she was unable to figure out the last line, especially when she already had a tune stuck in her head. It would come with time, and as of now, the limo was pulling up to their new home: The Palm Woods Hotel.

After getting out and unloading, Kelly ran up to meet them and gave everyone the grand tour. 

“Home of the future famous,” was the phrase she used to describe the hotel and it rang in everyone’s ears as they did their best to contain their delight.

 By itself, the hotel was larger than any building in their hometown, able to house thousands of people. There were lots of teenagers and a couple of kids around Katie’s age, but Mrs. Knight noticed a severe lack of parents at the establishment. Turning this thought over she elected to ignore it, reaching out to touch the first palm tree in her life. 

People were abundant, something that none of the Minnesota kids were used to, and it made Roxy slightly anxious so she stuck by Logan for the remainder of the tour. 

Kelly finished in the lobby, “You guys are gonna love it here. The rooms are clean, you’re close to the studio, and there is an amazing pool!” 

Big mistake. 

At the mention of a pool, the four boys dropped all of their belongings on the floor and rushed out to the patio. After politely asking a bellhop to take her bags to her room, Roxy decided to join them. 

They were already sitting around in the pool area when Roxy lowered herself onto a lounge chair by Kendall with her book and pen in hand and set a glass of iced tea she had snagged from the café onto the table beside her. She knew that the complete line would come to her, she just needed some inspiration. Being close to the boys was about as much inspiration as she could get. 

Now right next to them, she could hear their conversation about not being in Minnesota and agreed that this was a nice change of pace. 

“Ah!” she yelled, writing down another line.

Welcome to the good times,

Life will never be the same-

The shout spooked Kendall as he turned around to look at Roxy, only to be met with a beautiful girl in a deep purple prom dress slapping him. 

“How dare you?” The prom queen screamed, alerting the other four to the situation. “What we had was real, but you threw it all away for Trish! My sworn enemy! I never wanna see you again, Troy! Never!”

With a final scream, the girl waddled off; her heels must’ve been very uncomfortable. Everyone around them was acting so nonchalant about the scene that had just unfolded. Was everyone in Hollywood that crazy? 

A slight chuckle escaped her lips as she saw the big red handprint on Kendall’s cheek and she handed him her glass of iced tea. 

“Here, you’ll be needing this,” she giggled, thinking about the boy’s first real Los Angeles interaction. 

That actress sure knew how to make an unforgettable first impression.

He thanked her as he pressed it against his face and looked down at the book she was writing in.

Noticing he was peeking, the girl snapped it shut with a smack.

“Are you alright? You did make a little noise earlier, but I’m assuming it was good since you wrote something down. You were doing that in the limo, too,” the blond boy mentioned.

“Oh, yeah, it was a good yelp, don’t worry. I’ve gotten a couple of lyrics with this killer tune in my head, I’m just having trouble figuring out the ending for a couple of my verses. Once I figure those lines out I should be able to finish it with a little more L.A. magic, but I would appreciate it if Gustavo helped me write it.

“I’ve got a good portion of the melody too, room for a guitar solo, and I’ve written down the general themes I think would fit in the song well. So for this one, I’m picking words like ‘friendship’, ‘fame’, and ‘discovery’. Oh, uh, and the song is… kind of about you four.” 

Damn it. She kicked herself, considering the last time she had written a song about somebody, it broke up their band.

Unaware of her inner turmoil as she waited for his response, Kendall gave her a soft and reassuring smile, “Incredible! I can’t wait to sing it.” 

Roxy was still quite amazed at the kindness the four had shown her over the past 36 hours. It was one thing to make acquaintances in that amount of time but the connection the five had seemed ancient. She was going to do everything in her power to support them on the road to their dream and hoped they would continue helping her as well. 

I must be the luckiest girl in all of Minnesota.

After the boy laid back in his chair, he had enough time to process what happened with the raven-haired prom queen and shook his head in disbelief. Upon his realization, the trash can beside Roxy began talking. It scared her a bit, but she lifted the lid to reveal the plump, red-headed child from the juice box commercials she would always see on TV. 

He introduced himself as Tyler, and the girl who assaulted Kendall as Camille. The five teens were disheartened to hear that Tyler was uninterested in being an actor, just wanting to be a normal kid, and he was very quick to hide from his mother as she ran past them. Red hair poked out of the lid of the trash can lid Roxy had placed back over his head.

After they pointed Tyler’s mom in the opposite direction, he began introducing the regulars at the hotel. 

“Lots of characters at the Palm Woods, huh?” Roxy questioned before he could finish.

“Oh, and those are the Jennifers,” he introduced, as the boy’s eyes went as big as the moon. “Three girls of the same name, who sing, dance, and act.”

They watched as the three girls made their way through the pool deck, seemingly in slow motion. All three of them were equally gorgeous and Roxy began to feel slightly insecure about her position next to the four equally pretty boys. 

James made the first move, interrupting their flow as he called out, “Hey!” 

The manner in which he called it out made Roxy want to punch him. He could’ve at least gotten up and gone over to them instead of yelling from his seat. 

“We’re in a band,” the wannabe finished

The Jennifers turned and took their sunglasses off, batting their eyelashes. All of them spoke in unison, “Really? Oh my gosh!”

The four boys beamed with pride at their praise and the girl with them rolled her eyes - glancing at the trio in an unspoken apology. 

“And we’re actresses who don’t care,” they finished, causing Roxy to laugh so hard that she nearly fell out of her chair. “But you are so cute!” 

This last line was directed at the laughing girl, which came as a big surprise. 

“Thanks, Jennifers, you’ll have to excuse my friends.”

“What’s your name? You should come and hang out with us sometime.” 

“Roxanne Somerset, not Jennifer, unfortunately. But yes I would love to get the lay of the land from your perspective,” the Minnesota girl said as she bit back a smile. 

They all said their goodbyes as Roxy turned back to starstruck Carlos and stuck her tongue out.

“I am so in love…” the helmet wearer trailed off. 

Glancing over, the worried look on Kendall’s face was very clear. She could smell speech.

“Guys, we have to promise ourselves now, that we’re not gonna let this singing thing or this town change us. We can never forget who we are.” He said, looking back to include Roxy. 

A “yes” came unanimously from all five teens. 

***

A couple of hours later, the Jennifers had invited Roxanne to grab smoothies and run lines. It was a great opportunity to get to know each other and some time for Roxy to focus on writing. The girls were reading for a show they were planning on auditioning for that sounded extremely complicated, Roxy could only guess that it was a new CW teen drama, but the writer did her best to focus on her lyrics while sipping on her strawberry-banana smoothie. Normally she would write alone, strumming chords on her guitar and attempting to piece everything together with the music, but she didn’t want to encroach on someone named Guitar Dude’s territory by the pool. The girls had warned her that although he looks calm and collected, he could be quite territorial.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her friends emerge in dorky Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops and stop a couple of feet from the table. Probably discussing the game plan of who gets to ask which Jennifer out. 

“Hey, girls,” Roxy whispered, “Around nine o’clock some guys are looking at us.”

The three didn’t even remember who the boy band was. 

Beside the four, the writer also noticed Kelly come up and talk to the boys, hopefully, nothing about work. Her co-worker looked annoyed but stood off to the side presumably allowing the boys to do whatever dumb thing they had planned.

“Hi, ladies,” James began, gesturing towards his bandmates in an introductory manner, but the Jennifers didn’t even let them finish before they threw their half-drank smoothies at them. 

The suddenness shocked their friend, causing Roxy to laugh so hard that she left tears in her notebook from how much she was giggling at her smoothie-clad band. Hollywood was going to be a tough town, and she hoped they would be able to handle the cutthroat atmosphere. The four of them looked utterly embarrassed before Kendall made the decision to willingly head to something he called “Boy Band Boot Camp.”

Due to their decision, Roxy assumed she had about 15 minutes before Kelly whisked them off to work as the boys went into their apartment to shower, so she continued to sip her smoothie and observe the people at the Palm Woods pool. Everyone seemed to have their own cliques, but maybe if everyone were as kind as the Jennifers had been, to her at least, the team’s stay in Los Angeles would be even better than she expected. The people here were truly a mystery but the girl knew her friends would bring a new Minnesota flare to Tinseltown.  With this thought, she was able to write a few more lines. 

Look around,

Nothing’s really as it seems,

Nothing but dreams.

You and I,

We’re gonna make a brand new sound

Like we own this town-

Drawing a couple of arrows to decide on verse order, then changing her mind and crossing them out, the writer reluctantly decided to worry about the order later. The song would eventually be perfect and ready to show her boss. Right now, all she needed to do was keep the boys on track and make sure her inspiration didn’t disappear. 

***

The elevator stopped on the floor of Gustavo’s office and recording studios, and Roxy could swear she heard him screaming but thought it best to continue following Kelly. She was slightly distracted as the woman was explaining to the new band how things were going to work by the massive posters of past boy bands signed by Rocque Records. A Boyquake poster caught her eye, a handful of their songs were on her old cassette tapes. To have a hit on the same level as Boyquake… the thought quickly settled in her mind as Kelly introduced pop sensation Nicole Scherzinger of the Pussycat Dolls as she was leaving the studio. The boys in front of her came to a stop, allowing Roxy to set her guitar case down. 

If there’s one thing I love more than a boy band, it’s a girl band.

As if on cue, the boy’s attitudes completely changed as they drooled over the celebrity in the room. It was a fine sight to see; the band was stumbling over each other and even Kendall was speechless as they stared at the beautiful woman in front of them. Roxy gave a little smile and a wave from back behind them. 

“He’s gonna marry you!” Carlos blurted out, pointing to James who immediately went as pale as a ghost. 

“Then where's my ring?” The singer flirted, wiggling the fingers on her left hand and prompting the shocked wannabe to stutter over his next words.

Roxy slipped one of her rings off her finger and dropped it in one of James’ open hands. It was one of her favorites, a small gold wire band with a fake ruby in the middle, but she decided it would look much better on Nicole. Once the boy realized what he was holding, he stretched his palm out to her looking down at the cheap ring.

“Very pretty…” the pop star mused as she pushed his hand back into his chest with one hand and made a phone gesture with her other, “Call me when you’re a little older.” 

James flushed a bright pink and he turned around so Nicole wouldn’t see. He whispered a quick thanks into his assistant’s ear as he took her right hand and slipped the ring on her finger before he turned back and joined the conversation. 

Roxanne was very thankful the boys were taller than her, she would kill anyone if they saw how flustered she was after James' actions. Even for a flirt, that was quite the intimate action, and she couldn’t recall an instance where her heart had beat so fast.  He knew how to get a girl going, even if it was completely unintentional. For the rest of their conversation with Nicole, the writer was focusing on trying to calm her breathing.

A door on the other side of the hall opened, revealing their new boss who called out to the former Pussycat Doll lovingly. Getting up on her tiptoes and peering over Logan’s shoulder Roxy caught the model rip an old rotary telephone off the wall and throw it at the man.

“Nice shot, Ms. Scherzinger!” she called, earning a mean look from Gustavo, who politely closed the door and waited in his office for the diva to leave. 

Once he was given the all-clear by Kelly, he stepped outside and faced his new crew who were desperately wishing the pop idol would return. The fate of Rocque Records was being left in the hands of five teenagers. This band was going to be his chance to place his company on the next level, and he knew that. So instead of congratulating the boys or thanking them for letting him take a chance - he broke some bad news to the team. 

“You guys ready to be stars? And are you ready to write like you never have before?” 

Everyone nodded their heads, hopeful for the next month of hard work and dedication. 

Gustavo continued. “Great, because now we only have three days to prove to the record company that there is something, anything, here.”

Roxy looked over at her friends, confusion written all over their faces. Making a whole new and marketable boy band in three days sounded impossible. It was going to be excruciating for the entire team - but the payoff would be immeasurable. 

The boys and Gustavo began to squabble once again about the tight timeline, while their assistant looked over to Kelly for some guidance. She gave her a small smile and a thumbs up, mouthing ‘we’ve got this’ as the guys continued to fight. Once their attention was back to the main conversation, Roxy’s hiding spot was revealed as Kendall took a couple of steps forward, squaring up to his boss. It seemed as though the band was up for the challenge as well.  

“Fine,” Gustavo mumbled, stepping back from the frontman. “Go get changed and meet me in the practice room in 5 minutes. Roxanne, come with me and Kelly.”

Squeezing past James and Kendall with her guitar in tow, the small girl made her way to her boss. 

“Ready to learn how to write a hit song in three days?” 

She nodded her head, bringing out her book and favorite pen as they made their way to the studio. Almost as if it were a conditioned response to pulling it out, she stopped walking and hummed a tune to herself - words following soon after. Gustavo looked back at her, about to ask what she was doing before he heard the tune. It was a catchy, poppy melody that was sure to be stuck in his head for days. Roxy already had a song.

Still, she stood in the middle of the hallway, scribbling notes down furiously and humming the melody from earlier again, this time in a different key to decide which one she liked more. Drawing the music staff, she wrote both of the tunes down in order to decide on the best one later. Next, came the words. 

Go and shake it up,

What you gotta lose?

Go and make your luck with the life you chose

If you want it all, lay it on the line

It’s the only life you got - 

“Ugh!” She yelled in frustration. Why was it that she could never find the last line? It was starting to bug her. 

“Are you done?” her boss asked, walking back towards her. 

He looked angry, but the girl honestly couldn’t tell what he was thinking.“Yes, sorry, Mr. Rocque, I won’t get distracted again.”

“No, with the song. Are you done?” 

“Oh,” Roxy breathed, “No, I’m not. I’ve only got a couple of verses, part of the chorus, and a bit of the melody but I haven’t been able to figure out what ties it together. The last line keeps slipping away from me.” 

“Alright. Sit in the studio with us and keep working on it. I’ll take a look when we’re done.”

Did Gustavo Rocque just offer to look over my song?

Shock was the mildest word one could use to describe how she was feeling. When she got hired, it sounded like it would be years before he even thought about looking at one of her songs. Though it was terrible the team was on a time crunch, Roxy was very thankful it was leading to a shift in her work timeline. 

Once she walked into the studio, she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. Gustavo was already talking with the band as the girl made her way to a comfy section of the floor to watch and gain some inspiration. This song would be the best one she’s ever written. 

It was hard to try and work with all the people flooding in and out of the room, but she found enjoyment in watching her friends be fawned over by different departments of Rocque Records. The first up was the choreography division, designed to take their dancing to the next level. 

A middle-aged man clad in gold and black stood in front of the four boys, doing his best to teach them simple dance moves while constantly using words that started with the letter X. The band had a long way to go before they would even get close to being good dancers. 

Roxy hung around for a little while, trying to pick which melody was better, but decided to use some of her time to explore the company floor and see if she could grab any water for the band. She was their assistant after all. Besides, some fresh air opposed to the slight stink of the studio from all the sweat was very preferable. 

After some poking around, she discovered the lounge was only around the corner, but the long hallways made it feel like it took forever to even see the end. Each side was lined with posters - Gustavo had managed some incredible bands - but she couldn’t help but notice how dated the images were. They weren’t legacies or classics, some of the names she didn’t even recognize, but she had a gut feeling her band would be different. They were goofy, and not in the slightest bit prepared for a showcase in three days, but their dream was so close they could taste it. She wasn’t going to let them throw it away. 

Grabbing a handful of cold water bottles from the refrigerator, she walked back to the studio. As she approached, she could hear some music, but the sound of footsteps hitting the floor or shoes squeaking wasn’t present. Had Mr. X let them take a break? 

Using her back to push open the door due to her full arms, Roxanne turned around to find all four boys splayed out on the ground, with no choreographer in sight. 

The water bottles fell from her arms as she let out a small yelp, looking at her friends below her feet. Scooping one of the bottles up she made her way to the closest one. 

“Logan, Logan!” she yelled in panic, staring at her friend’s near-lifeless body on the ground.. 

Unsure of what to do, she decided on pressing the cold water bottle to his face. Once it made contact with his skin, he opened his eyes and groaned. 

“We’ve been X-pelled,” the boy laying on the ground shared, weakly crossing his hands over his chest in the shape of the letter their teacher was so fond of. 

“Don’t scare me like that! I thought it was serious…” she huffed, picking up the water bottles and going to place them on the other dancer’s faces. 

Kendall and Carlos woke up just fine, but when she knelt down to place one on  James he snatched her wrist, causing the bottle to drop to the floor. 

“I need a little more to wake me up, don’t you think? True love’s kiss should do the trick.”

After their interaction earlier, she was already slightly frazzled around him and this was not helping her calm down. It was especially embarrassing when all his friends were in the room, so she decided to dish out a little bit of revenge.

“Sure, James,” the writer said with a smile. 

Glad his trick had worked, he waited for her to lean in. As she did, she stopped centimeters from his face. The boy’s breath was warm, tickling her lips, and for a second she could swear it hitched, but nothing would stop her from executing her plan.

“Let me go find Nicole for you,” the writer whispered.

Moving away, Roxy grabbed the water bottle reserved for him and dumped it on his face. 

James was less than pleased with the outcome of his attempted flirt, groaning as he stood up and did his best to wipe off the water clinging to his face. The other boys were doubled over with laughter as they watched their soaking friend sulk.

“Thanks, Roxy, I needed to cool down,” he glanced her way before lifting the end of his tank top to wipe away the excess water from his face. 

As much as she tried to fight it her eyes slightly wandered, and caught a glimpse of his abdominal region. A light pink dusted her face but she stood her ground, doing her best not to let his tricks get to her. 

“Get your own water for practice from now on.” 

“Sure thing, Roxy, I couldn’t care less.”

Just as she opened her mouth to fire back, a savior appeared in the form of Kelly Wainwright. The five teens in the studio quickly sat down by the balance bars in the back of the room because if Kelly was coming, Gustavo was not far behind. It was an anxious few minutes as they waited for their boss to come and inspect their work. It was safe to say he would be interested in what happened in the last hour. 

Their explanation wasn’t interesting to Roxy, who kept trying to decipher the cryptic messages she left for herself in her songbook. Though, she did try and figure out if she knew any bad words starting with X because apparently, the choreographer had gotten so mad he cussed the boys out. That was a new one. The only thing that distracted her further was the shattering scream Gustavo gave at the notion that their teacher, ‘X-quit’, as Kendall had put it.

***

After the horrible failure that was the band’s dance lesson, their boss decided to move along to something seemingly easier, their look and brand. It was hard to imagine the boys she knew as anything but dumb hockey players, but she could understand how that wasn’t as appealing to the younger demographic. Roxy liked athletes just as much as the next teen, but a makeover into a pretty, kind boy-next-door was a much safer bet to reel in most younger listeners. Who couldn’t trust a childhood friend, someone with you since the beginning, someone you could always rely on to dry your tears? The writer decided that was the look to go for, but Gustavo seemed to have other plans as the marketing team stepped up to the plate. 

“Guys, we have some looks that will literally transform you,” a young, well-dressed individual explained, addressing the groaning boys. 

Kendall rolled his eyes. If there was ever someone to question the ways of Rocque Records, it would be him.

“Can’t we just be ourselves?”

A fair point, but only a point he would make. The marketing duo started laughing; turning to each other as if being yourself was some kind of inside joke. 

“No,” was the only answer they provided before a slide show began to play on a small TV in the corner of the room. 

Roxy did her best to pay attention, she wanted to take some notes and help the team come up with the best look possible, but it was very hard to crack the two professionals. The only part of the presentation she was able to remember was the threat to shave the boy’s heads. 

The first look devised by the styling team was a band called “Boy-liscious.” Roxy made sure to take lots of pictures, for research of course, of her friends in their ridiculously ugly outfits. A Boy-liscious style included bright colors, missing shirts, and stupid headwear none of them - except James - seemed to like. The long-haired boy made sure to glance over to Roxy, shooting her a wink as he ruffled his jacket to reveal no top underneath, showing off his body.          

“The beach, the girls, the… shirtless overalls,” Kendall stated with uncertainty in his voice, trying to find the general vibe of the first look. 

Relief washed over his face as his boss shared the same negative thoughts. What Gustavo needed most were options. 

Next came “Red, White, and Boy”, which was an insult to patriots everywhere. Regardless, Roxy made sure to take some more pictures to save these to show Mrs. Knight back home. The predominant color of red stood out across the four, leaving Carlos with a clashing blue patterned tone for his costume. James, somehow still shirtless, spoke of his affection for the look. Fortunately for all citizens of America, the demographic that enjoyed the Red, White, and Boy style the most were war veterans - not teenagers. 

Their boss yelled at the marketers for another option. 

Look three was by far the best one, it had Roxy holding her sides in pain from how much she giggled, while she tried to take as many pictures as she could before burning the image into her brain. “Danger Boy” was something she would never forget. The alternative look was undeniably attractive when done correctly, but this was something out of a terrible fashion emergency gone wrong. Danger Boy were uncomfortable in their tight, black leather pants and overaggressive black eyeliner. The outfits screamed unapproachable, but worst of all, they weren’t even attractive. Forbidden romance with the dark and edgy boy was always a hit, but everything about this option was a terrible idea. 

“I hate it!” Gustavo yelled, the marketing duo quickly agreeing with him. “I need five new looks for tomorrow. Now, follow me, we’re going to talk to our new songwriter about your first hit single that will put me back on the map!” 

With the mention of a song, Roxy perked up. Her notebook fell out of her lap as she scrambled up to follow her boss into the studio. If there was anything the last hour taught her, it was probably better for the band to stick to their original look. With this, another idea popped into her head. Picking up her book and pen, she tried to devise a line about keeping it simple and not compromising. A few thematic phrases jumped out as she wrote them down, but as soon as they were on the page they were scratched out again. 

It needs to follow the structure… Don’t worry about the last line… Fame is something they need to make count… They can’t compromise who they are…

All attention was on her and it made her very uncomfortable. The girl shifted a little, closing her eyes and writing some words out in the air to help finalize her new lyrics. 

“Come on, Roxanne!” Carlos called from the doorway, breaking her focus. 

The other guys clamped their hands over his mouth, preventing him from speaking anymore. It seems most of them had gotten the hint she needed to concentrate when inspiration struck.

“Shush, shush,” she whispered as she attempted to bring her focus back to her work. 

“Make it count, play it straight,

Don’t look back don’t hesitate

-

What you want, what you feel, 

Never quit and make it real 

-”

Her words were a quiet whisper, but in her excitement that she had finally connected some lines she had forgotten everyone else was in the room with her. The last lines remained unwritten, but hopefully, her humming of the melody helped distract from that. 

From the doorway, her boss spoke up. “Not a bad start, but it’s going to need a lot of work to transform a couple of lines like that into a hit. Let’s focus on the song I have now and revisit yours later.” 

***

“What do you think you’re laughing about?” 

There was no nice way to say it but the fact all of Gustavo Rocque’s hit records - save Yard Squirrel Christmas - contained the word “girl” in them was quite sad. 

“Sorry, Mr. Rocque, I didn’t mean to laugh out loud. Have you ever tried to write anything that wasn’t a love song for your boy bands? You know, a breakup song or even a foundational song like my work in progress? No one is going to want to listen to a boy band they don’t care about, it wouldn’t hurt to show a little character besides ‘girl-crazy’ every now and then.”

Speaking up to her boss was terrifying and he was growing visibly upset, so when Kendall swooped in to take the heat she was relieved she could count on him to have her back. 

“Are any of those songs from this girl-ennium?” 

Gustavo began to vibrate with rage, signaling it was time for Kendall to back off. Grabbing her possessions, Roxy ran over to the speakers where Kelly stood and clapped her hands over her ears as Gustavo screamed so loudly at the blond she thought he was going to explode.  

Eventually, his vocal cords tired out, allowing Kelly to run out of the room while the man just stood there, blank-faced and silent. Feeling it safe enough, Roxy moved from behind the speakers to join the singers in the middle of the room.

Logan was the first to break the silence.

“Roxy, can we please take a look at the song you have, I will do anything to not have to sing his quote-unquote ‘new hit, Girl Time.’”

“Oh, um, sure. It’s not complete or anything, but I can give you a rundown of the basics.” 

She tossed her book out of her bag to the floor and pulled her guitar out of its case. The acoustic brown instrument let out a small sound as she gently ran her fingers over the strings and sat down in front of the boys. Finishing tuning it, she flipped to the most recent page she had written, struggling to make sense of her unclear scribbles. Confidence from moments ago wavered as she glanced over the entire page, picture finally forming as she connected the melody and lyrics together like a puzzle piece.

Kelly ran back in just before she began, carrying a comfortable-looking chair and a heart rate monitor, and fussed over the quiet man in the front of the room. She gave the group a thumbs up, signaling them to continue whatever they were doing. 

“Okay, so, the easiest way will be to play for you so bear with me. As you may know, I have a couple of verses and parts of the chorus figured out, I’m just having trouble figuring out the last lines that tie everything together. Carlos, hold the journal out for me for a bit?” 

Carlos nodded, very excited to do such a little task, and she thanked him as she began to strum out the intro chords. The song had a bit of an edge to it, showing that the band didn’t have to define themselves as pure pop just yet as Roxy did her best to sing along when the lyrics fit. She didn’t have much so she didn’t play for too long, but once she was done the boys scrambled to take the notebook out of their friend’s hand to learn the lyrics. 

Disappointment was written over their faces as she swiped it out of Carlos’ hands before they could turn any more pages.

“So much better than ‘Girl Time,’” Logan thought aloud, humming the chorus back and trying to remember the tune.

“It would be better on electric guitar, but this is all I have for now.”

From the corner of the room, Kelly cleared her throat before stating Gustavo was back to a healthy blood pressure therefore able to produce again. 

“I’d suggest looking into Roxanne’s song, Gustavo,” the woman advised before she let him get back up. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the producer here so I’ll decide what we do and when we do it. For now, dawgs, get in the sound booth. It’s time to record.” 

For the first time the whole day the four listened to their boss, marching along behind him as Kelly showed them where the sound booth was. Gustavo took a step in and the boys attempted to follow but the producer held out his hand to stop them and pointed over to Roxanne. 

“This is the first and last time I’ll show you how to properly set up the booth for recording. Remember it.”

Still weary from their encounter last night, the writer did her best to follow what he was saying. It wasn’t terribly hard to set up, the most important thing was making sure each headset was properly plugged in and synced to the background music and tracing vocals at the same time so none of the boys fell off track. Overall, it was very similar to setting up the radio recording room for a live broadcast.

Simple enough. 

Once her setup was approved by Gustavo, Kelly ran into the booth to place some pillows on the floor and fruit water on two small tables inside.

“All ready to go, Gustavo!” 

Kelly sounded very excited for the boys to enter the booth. Singing was one of the more fun parts of the demo process, and after they tracked this today it would be time to go home. Each team member seemed to be a little tired and strung out, definitely ready to go back to the hotel. 

Roxy stood behind the large soundboard with Gustavo and Kelly, giving the boys a smile through the glass separating the two rooms. 

Shooting a thumbs up back, Logan returned her grin as Kelly began to explain the sound booth.

“The sound booth helps us isolate the vocals in case we need to edit or enhance them later.”

Carlos looked around, confused as to where her voice was coming from even though he was wearing headphones, and noticed the padding on the floor of the booth.

“Why are their pillows on the floor?”

Nodding at his statement, James asked, “Do you want us to nap? ‘Cause we will.”

Roxy could tell the boys were wiped out, and Gustavo was slightly on edge as he massaged his temples. It was only partly a recipe for disaster.

“They just absorb any extra echo or treble, just like those big foam mic covers. And I put some fruit water in there in case your mouths get dry, okay?” 

Kendall reached out to grab the foam mic his assistant had set up, bonking himself with the soft part and letting a light thud echo through the speakers. Gustavo rubbed his temples even faster as Kendall hit the boy next to him with the mic as well. Carlos didn’t take it very well, to say the least. 

“Guys,” Roxy warned, the sound reaching their headphones. “The sooner we finish vocals, the sooner we can go home and rest…”

Kendall and Carlos ignored her as the black-haired boy began edging the other one on. So, his friend hit him again. The two began trash-talking each other and once Carlos’ wit couldn’t match his friends, he grabbed one of the bottles from the table behind them and squirted it at Kendall. Good for the blond boy, his friend had terrible aim and ended up hitting Logan instead. The blue liquid stained his shirt as he begged the singer holding the bottle to knock it off. 

A collective sigh came from the three outside of the sound booth. Once they had hit Logan, they thought him responsible enough to put an end to his friend's shenanigans so they could get back to recording. Unfortunately for them, the studious boy had spied a table of fruit water that sat behind him. So, while the other three fought over one table, he had one all to himself. Grabbing a red bottle, he shot the liquid back at Carlos - his aim even worse - and ended up getting James square in the chest, ruining the wannabe’s white V-neck.

After this, it was every man for himself. Each boy had a handful of bottles and were trying to hit each other, ultimately failing with every strike. Roxy winced as the water splashed all over the expensive recording devices and ran to the glass divider between the rooms. She knocked on it a few times, trying to capture their attention, but one of them grabbed a pillow and ripped it open, causing it to explode - obscuring the view from the outside. Feathers covered every inch of the small booth, sticking to the guys and the walls due to the fruit water bath they had given each other. 

Gustavo looked horrified. 

“Mr. Rocque, they’re just tired. After they finish messing around they’ll be ready to go! I’ll even clean the booth, whatever it takes to get this demo recorded.”

Her pleas were helpless against her boss. 

“Just have the boys meet me in the studio when they’re finished.” 

That was all he had to say before he left the room. 

As soon as the boys finished their fight and exited the booth, Roxanne took all the cleaning supplies she could carry from a nearby janitor’s closet to fix their mess. Assistants helped clean up messes, helped keep their band's spirits high, and helped them achieve the goals they were working towards. This was something they all wanted, so Roxy took a broom to the walls of the soundproof booth to show Gustavo how serious they could be. It took her around 15 minutes to pick most of the feathers out of the padded walls and microphone covers - dumping the white plumes to the ground to make clean up easier, and started working on wiping down the windows. 

Fluff stuck to her clothes and the cleaning rags she used as she completely erased the window to the soundboard room clean, picking a few feathers out of the molding. When the booth was restored to its original condition they would be able to record again, so Roxy cleaned as fast as she could. Gustavo had to have let the boys change and she assumed he was giving them a responsibility talk in the studio. The four could be dumb at times but now that they had a collective goal, it would be hard to imagine they’d do anything to put it in jeopardy. 

Moving to the clear door to the studio, she sprayed it down with glass cleaner and was able to remove the sticky, feathery mess the boys had left. Peeking through the window, she watched as Gustavo had gathered the different departments of Rocque Records, including the band, and was playing a song on the piano behind them. The four were still covered in fruit water and feathers; it was strange he hadn’t let them change before he played them their demo song. 

Though the situation seemed odd, she tried to pay it no mind and began sweeping all the feathers on the floor into a big pile. Once her boss was done playing their track, she would ask him for the vacuum. Nerves waved over her as she kept sweeping, if he had left them a mess was he embarrassing them in front of the company right now? If so, that was an incredibly cruel practice but the boys would certainly learn their lesson. 

The studio door opened behind her and she turned around to find Logan at the entrance. 

“Hey!” she smiled, doing her best to ignore the mess he was leaving in the door frame as she stepped aside to show off the clean booth, “Save for that pile of fuzz, the booth is back in business. Guess who has the best assistant in the whole world?” 

A sad look washed over his face temporarily before he stepped back outside and into the dance room. 

“Come on, Roxy. It’s time to go.”  

Roxy waved him off, “Sure, sure. Just give me a second to find the vacuum and I’ll be ready to go after that.”

“Actually, uh, we really need to go.”

“Oh. Did something happen?” Turning around, she desperately searched for something wrong with the booth, landing on the microphones she had pushed back against the wall. “If the equipment is broken I’m sure Mr. Rocque can have it fixed by morning.”

Logan held out his hand, giving her a small smile, “I don’t think Hollywood is ready for us yet.”  

“The single must be amazing if Hollywood isn’t ready for it,” She stated as she took his hand and stepped down from the booth, following him out of the studio. 

“Everything will be just fine.”

The two stopped in the dance practice room to grab Roxy’s guitar and he mentioned Kendall stepped into the recording booth to grab her songbook. Care from the boys was greatly appreciated, but they were acting very out of character. No one was smiling wide or cracking jokes and Logan never let go of her hand until the five of them were in the elevator heading to the lobby. 

Melancholy was an emotion she had seen none of her new friends display before, and the long, quiet elevator ride gave her plenty of time to deduce what had happened in the studio between the band and the producer. The four looked ready to drop dead any second, though she couldn’t tell if it came from a place of sleepiness or a place of shame. Maybe both. It was now clear Gustavo had done more than embarrass them in front of the entire company. Gripping her guitar case, she spoke out to pose a question. 

“What’s on the schedule for tomorrow, Logan?”

She believed she had already figured out the answer, but needed someone to actually tell her what was happening instead of being vaguely led out of Rocque Records with no explanation. 

Silence washed over the elevator as it continued to descend, a shrill beep that seemed to grow louder with every passing floor. 

“Please tell me,” she asked in a whisper, confidence slowly dissipating. Looking up at the ceiling, she prayed he wouldn’t give the response she knew he would.

No answer once again. 

“Logan?” 

“Yeah?”

“When you said Hollywood wasn’t ready, you meant it literally… right?” 

“Yeah.” 

This was about a thousand times worse than her rejection after Kendall refused to go to Los Angeles alone. The four boys beside her looked completely wrecked; she could hardly focus on her own condition. After finally having found something to work for, Gustavo ripped it out of them and crushed the happiest people Roxy knew.

“Well, at least I still have those Sea Bands you bought me. And I’ll sit thirty rows away on the plane so you won’t see me get sick, and when we get back you can teach me how to play hockey, and Logan can tell me about all the medical stuff he learns, and…”

The anxious girl rambled on and on, focusing on the good parts of home.  It sounded like she had already accepted the fact they were to leave but if today was about nothing else, it was about standing up to their tyrannical boss. Kendall stayed silent, not knowing how to help Roxy at this particular moment in time, but he did have a plan up his sleeve. One that would let them all stay in L.A. and finally make their dreams come true.

***

As per her friends’ request, Roxanne wallowed in her apartment for an hour about the unfortunate reality of their situation and the terrible toxicity of Hollywood while listening to her tapes and hugging a pillow as she laid face down on her bed; the one she had found at the thrift store titled ‘For Bad Days’ was living up to the name. Thinking of Minnesota, she thought about calling her Dad and telling him everything that had happened. Ultimately deciding against it, she rolled back over and hugged her pillow tight to her chest while “Never Say Never” by The Fray blasted through her speakers.

Exactly an hour after they dropped her off at her room, the boys came knocking - a few times, trying to be louder than the music coming from her bedroom they could hear in the hallway. Since when were they ‘on time’ people?

“Just give me a second,” Roxanne yelled out, jumping up to turn off her stereo system.

 The vigor in which she moved soon made her lethargic, as though the effort used to get up was all she had left in her. 

Do I even want to see them right now?

Logan replied a few moments later, sounding even wearier than she was. 

“Would you please come out and talk to us?”

He was shuffling his feet on the carpet as he waited for their friend to join them. After some time, she opened the door and greeted the ex-band. Everyone could agree today was terrible and it was starting to show. They could tell Roxy had been crying from her red, swollen eyes and slightly smudged makeup, she could tell they had been fighting from the many bruises that adorned their arms and legs. 

Hockey players.

Logan handed her a smoothie from the Palm Woods café and she followed the four out to the pool. One last memory of warm and sunny Los Angeles before heading back to cold and dark Minnesota. Three of the boys lounged on the poolside chairs while James paced back and forth, muttering under his breath every few seconds and Roxy sat on the pool’s edge, dipping her feet in. Next to them, Guitar Dude was playing a depressing melody which Kendall quickly asked him to stop.

“So, has Gustavo Dork made you guys famous yet?” 

Heads turned to find Katie Knight walking up to her big brother, asking for a progress update. 

“We had some creative differences.”

Roxy snorted at Kendall’s answer but it was more or less the truth. 

Maybe I’m just cursed, the girl conceded. 

“You got fired, didn’t you?”

“All he did was yell and scream at us, and make us wear dangerously tight pants.” Katie elected to join Roxy by the poolside as the older girl showed photos of the ridiculous outfits Gustavo made them try on to try and find their brand. Seeing her friends in “Danger Boy” outfits brought a small smile to her face while Katie begged her for the photos, piping up with her side of the story.

“Mr. Rocque didn’t even have the guts to tell me I was fired, he just had your brother pull me out of the building. I guess my worth is solely dependent on a couple of hair-brained idiots.” 

As he paced, James rolled his eyes at her comment and spoke directly to Kendall about the situation.

“Yeah, you’re right, he wanted to turn us into rich and famous pop stars. What an idiot!” 

The two girls at the pool decided not to join in the argument the boys were having as Katie told Roxanne about her day, earning a high five when the writer learned about her exclusive VIP lounge by the pool that resulted in a profit of about 500 dollars. The younger girl slipped her friend 50 for putting up with her brother’s band for the entire day.

“I can’t stand seeing him every day, it must be even harder working with him,” Katie shrugged as the boys continued to yell at each other.

The sound of one of the boys falling onto their lounge chairs behind her made Roxy hop up, wanting to make sure no one was hurt. Logan placed himself in between James and Carlos, who had been flung into his chair, signaling the fight had started with them.

“Woah, woah, remember the pact we made earlier?”

Roxy did her best to remind her friends of this when Carlos yelled and launched himself at James. The taller boy trapped him into a headlock as Kendall expressed his distaste for the fight before jumping in to help the helmet wearer. Entering the fight herself, the writer tried to pull James off of Carlos to no avail - even when Logan attempted to help her. 

A few seconds later, she felt James shift to the side, and in hopes she could disconnect the helmet wearer, she leaned with him. A few shouts were let out as she continued to fall to the side, boys in tow, as they all landed in the pool behind them. Thrashing around in the water for a bit, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist, her back making contact with someone’s chest as her head made it to the surface.

“Don’t tell me you can’t swim,” James whispered to her as the rest of the band fought their way to the waterline. 

Roxy could feel her cheeks heating up as she tried to wiggle her way out of his grasp.

“I can swim just fine. I lost my bearings for a bit so I’d appreciate it if you let me go.”

“Okay, jeez, lighten up.”

“I’m just fine how I am. You guys were the ones who blew my shot today, so I’m not too keen on ‘lighting up’ at the moment.” 

A few drops of water traveled down the side of his face as he looked at her, slightly hurt by her words, and let her go. Before she got the chance to apologize, the rest of the boys were finally done fighting. 

Everyone at the Palm Woods pool turned their heads to Katie, who Roxy presumed pushed Kendall in causing a chain reaction. The young girl mentioned the team needed to ‘cool off.’

“She’s right, you know,” Roxy grumbled to her friends as she kicked her legs to stay afloat. 

James was the first to speak up.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

It seems a dip in the pool was just what the five needed as they splashed James one last time, a sign of an accepted apology.

The boys watched as their assistant pulled herself out of the pool, gathered herself in someone else’s towel, and stalked back to her room in search of dry clothes. Once she had reached 2-H, the writer realized she had left her keys with the boys outside. Gustavo had been very generous in giving the girl her own space - after a lovely conversation with her father, of course - but it wasn’t going to do her much good if she locked herself out. Slightly embarrassed and not wanting to see the boys quite yet, she walked to the next apartment giving a little knock. Soon after, Mrs. Knight opened the door, immediately examining the drenched songwriter. 

“Oh, honey! What happened?” 

“I just got into a little fight with the guys and accidentally locked myself out of my apartment. Could I borrow some leggings and a sweatshirt?” Roxy asked. 

“Of course, of course. Give me a second to grab them from my room.” 

Looking around the apartment as Mrs. Knight raced down the hall, Roxy was grateful she had her own. The band’s items were strewn about and the walls were a dismal brown. The only downside to her apartment, 2-H, was how cramped it was. Whatever architect ended up designing the Palm Woods mustn't have been very good at math if the band got such a spacious apartment when right next door, hers was the size of a broom closet. Even their carpet was heavily stained and slightly sticky as she made her way to the window. Pushing the curtains aside, she saw down into the pool area. The sun was setting, so everyone had traded the chill of the pool for a comforting fire and her friends were no exception. 

“It’s going to be alright, you know,” Mrs. Knight spoke up from behind her. “You’re all brilliant kids, and you’ll find a way to work it out with Gustavo.”

“Thanks. I hope we do,” the writer sighed, “I don’t want to go back to Minnesota. Los Angeles is where I belong.”

Mother Knight could sense there was something off in the way Roxanne had talked about their home state, but didn’t want to pressure the girl into sharing. Right now, all that mattered was letting her know she was cared for. 

“Well, even if things don’t go to plan, you can always come to me. I'll be happy to help you however I can. I’ll leave the clothes right here, darling.”

A gesture like that should’ve brought the girl to tears, but none came out as the woman left the room. No matter how today ended up, she knew she was grateful to have the chance to get to know Mrs. Knight; Kendall and Katie were so lucky to have such a strong maternal figure in their lives. 

The writer pushed away the thought as she quickly scrambled into the clothing given to her. With her new comfy sweatshirt and leggings, she made her way to the first floor to join her friends by the fire they had started in one of the hotel fire pits. As she approached, she could hear James speaking about his new career choices. 

“I could stay here and be a model. I’m still great looking. Or the star of a reality show!”

Roxy scoffed as she walked in front of him to block the warmth of the fire headed his way, crossing her arms.

“Which one, ‘Project Idiot’?”

Her response gained a small chuckle from the others as James looked up at her. 

“That’s just your jealousy talking.” 

“I have full confidence in the fact I could land a magazine cover far faster than you could.” 

The girl stuck her tongue out at the wannabe and made her way to sit next to Carlos, while Kendall used this opportunity to speak up. 

“You know what’s funny? We didn’t even get a chance to sing together.”

A sad but true statement - though that was entirely the band’s fault. Roxy crossed her legs and huddled closer to the fire, unable to notice the sly look the four boys were exchanging. 

From beside her, Kendall began singing the turd song and his friends gladly joined in. Glances came and went from different parts of the pool as the patrons of the hotel were serenaded by the band. Even Roxy sang a few bars, dancing in her seat and singing along with her friends. Their faces were full of joy as they sang the song together, using the techniques they learned earlier in the day to harmonize and create a small beat to go with the melody. Though, the song did end with a little too much enthusiasm from James who hopped up on the couch and belted the last line, eliciting his friends to fall back onto the couch with fits of laughter.  

The writer leaned her head on Carlos’ shoulder as the residents of the Palm Woods applauded the impromptu performance. The longer the applause lasted, the bigger the boy’s egos grew. 

“Guys, I really don’t want to leave Los Angeles.” 

It was only a quiet whisper from the girl but her friend responded from across the crackling fire. 

“Then we should do this,” Kendall exclaimed as he stood up to address the team. “You guys were right. I really think we should do this.” 

The light reflecting off his wet hair was just as bright as his eyes. 

“How? We got fired, remember?”

Logan’s statement was something each of the teens had been struggling to accept. 

“We didn’t get fired,” the frontman shot back.

Roxy piped up. “I seem to remember leaving Rocque Records with that impression.”

“Okay, we got fired. But the problem is, we didn’t try our best.”

“I tried my best,” James and Roxy said at the same time, jinxing each other. 

“We know, you two, we know.” 

It was hollow, but the girl still cringed at Logan’s statement. This mattered to everyone now, not just her. There was no longer a need to worry about their determination - this conversation was all she needed to know that these four were in it 100 percent. 

Kendall spoke up again, requesting some inspirational music from Guitar Dude a couple of fire pits away. The writer could smell speech. 

“We are hockey players, mostly, brothers of the ice and siblings of the song and we do not quit. Now, are we going to dump the puck and scramble back to the bench, or are we gonna grab that puck, pull the goalie and rush the net big time? Or, uh, grab that guitar and rush some new lyrics… big time?” 

Roxy made a mental note to have Logan teach her hockey terminology so Kendall wouldn’t have to grapple with songwriting terms in the future. But his efforts brought a smile to her face as she could feel new lyrics swirling around in her head waiting to be let out. 

“You really think we can make it as a boy band?” Carlos questioned.

Earnestly, the writer nodded, “Of course, you guys can! You just need to go a little easier on our boss, yeah? He’s only trying to make you rich and famous.” 

A simple request, but Kendall kept on going. 

“I’ve realized three things since we got here. One, I love singing. Two, I love singing with you guys and the thought of us rocking Roxy’s songs together.”

“What’s the third thing?” Logan asked. 

“It’s minus 8 in Minnesota right now and I’m in love with this pool.” 

The five teens shared a laugh as they enjoyed the cool night air of Los Angeles. Although it wasn’t home for the boys quite yet, it would have to do for the next month. 

“So, what’s the play?” the blond continued, “Dump the puck, or… melody? Maybe? Rox, you’ve gotta teach me songwriting lingo. Or Big Time Rush?” 

At the moniker, the girl grinned. Cute band name!

James was the first to jump up, casting his vote for Big Time Rush. Carlos followed, putting his helmet on to do the same. Then came Logan, voting for the band as well. Kendall moved to agree. All eyes turned to Roxy. Slowly she stood up, looking each of her friends in the eye before voicing her vote. 

“Big Time Rush!” 

***

Adding the finishing touches to her new song, titled after the new band, the elevator doors to Gustavo’s studio opened and the five walked down the hallway, ready to face their boss. Roxy had stayed up all night to finish “Big Time Rush” to show Gustavo. They were all nervous, but Kendall said he had a plan to get them back in his good graces so the teens made their way to his office confident in his plan-making abilities. 

When they turned the corner, the different departments of Rocque Records were standing at the end of the hall, Gustavo and Kelly up front, looking very determined. Due to the boys’ staggering heights - all giant compared to hers - she pushed herself to the back of the group, walking alongside James as they made their way to the producer and his team. 

In true Big Time Rush fashion, Kendall squared up to Gustavo who looked very expectant for an answer as to why the five teens had burst into the studio wanting to meet with him. 

“Okay,” the blond began. Roxy thought her heart was going to beat out of her chest as she peaked out from behind Carlos. “We’ll do it your way. No goofing off, no pillow fights, and no questions for the next two days.”

The older man smiled in agreement.

“‘Girl Time’ from the top.” 

Roxy cringed at the thought of the boys singing the terrible song Gustavo had written them. Once they hit the studio she would do her best to change his mind - but for now, it was girl time. Moving forward slightly to make her way to the recording room with the rest of the crew, she crashed into Carlos as the four boys stayed rooted in place. To her surprise, after the agreement about no questions, Kendall had spoken up once more. 

“Except for that. We really don’t wanna sing ‘Girl Time.’”

All departments whipped around, annoyed looks on their faces. How had the band already gone back on their word? Roxanne tugged on the back of the blond’s shirt, giving him some backup.

“Just go with Gustavo for now, I’ll find a way to convince him BTR doesn't need that awful song.”

James placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back slightly, as Gustavo poked fun at the frontman for attempting to call the shots. 

“Don’t worry, we’ve got a plan,” the tall boy murmured, looking forward to Gustavo with the rest of the band.

All Roxy could do was stand beside them in solidarity as they stood up to Mr. Rocque. 

“Oh, let me guess, You have a better idea. Well, let’s hear the dog’s better song title.”

“Big Time Rush.” 

The four had called out the name of Roxy’s single as they parted and left her exposed in front of their boss. 

“And, it’s not our song per se, it’s Roxanne’s,” Logan mentioned. 

Kendall added, “A song about four hockey players and one songwriter from Minnesota who have an amazing opportunity in front of them… and they’re gonna take their best shot.” 

After the kind words from the band, Roxy held her songbook out to Gustavo. 

“The lyrics and the melody are all done, but I would love the expertise of a seasoned songwriter to help me finalize the harmonies and background music as well as the arrangement. I’m not sure who has the best voice for most of the parts yet.” 

A slight shake in her voice let the entire hall know she was nervous and there was silence for a few moments as everyone waited for Gustavo’s word. Looking back and forth between the boys and their boss, she noticed her friends were all smiling, so the songwriter joined them in putting on a brave face as she continued to extend her notebook out to the producer. 

“I like it! And you’ve got to stop using the word ‘girl’ in all of your song titles,” a seal of approval came from Kelly, who was beaming with pride. 

“I…” began Gustavo, causing the teens to lean forward to catch every word he was about to say, “...like it also.” 

Taking her book out of her hands, the older man gave her a nod and Roxy took her first breath in what felt like ages. The boys gave her a few celebratory punches to the arm as their boss continued.

“We’re going to be working all night because Friday is two days away, and we are in a big time rush.” 

Gustavo and his team scattered, everyone going to their respective offices to finalize any marketing, styles, or choreography. Though Roxy was slightly anxious without her songbook in sight, as there were many songs besides “Big Time Rush” in there, she was sure it would be safeguarded by her boss. 

Roxy hadn’t realized how stressed she truly was until all of it had dissipated after Gutsavo’s acceptance of the band back into Rocque Records. For the next month, and hopefully much longer, she would be able to call Los Angeles home and write songs for her friends. It was safe to say this was the happiest she had ever been. 

Setting her guitar case on the floor, she looked around the hallway at the posters of boy bands past. Their first goal had already been accomplished by gaining their boss’ trust and their new goal was to join the ranks of the bands on the walls. 

“Roxy. Roxy!” 

Logan’s yell snapped her back to reality. Her eyes focused on the boy as she saw the other three walk off toward the studio. 

“I think we could use a little direction on the song, don’t you? Come join us!” 

Happily, she accepted his offer and the pair made their way down the recording room. 

***

The next two days flew by. As promised, there was no more goofing off and the boys did their best to follow Gustavo’s every instruction, while Roxy got to learn about the details of recording, mixing, and producing tracks. In addition to this, her boss also let her track her own guitar for the song and it was to be played for the boys when they recorded as well. Her acoustic didn’t fit the vibe of the song so he let her borrow one of the electric guitars at the studio, a red one of course. 

Writing credits and guitar credits weren’t bad for her recorded first song. Big Time Rush’s assistant was thankful for the breaks she had where the boys had to learn the choreography - if she was tired she could only imagine how the band was feeling. Yet, they carried out their tasks dutifully, even going so far as to practice every chance they had at the Palm Woods. 

She had even danced with them a little by the pool, though she was even worse than Logan. Jump, step, pose was about the only move she could get down, but she let the boys try and teach her anyway, in hopes it would allow them to remember their steps even better. 

Once Friday had come, the assistant was running around the studio checking on wardrobe and mics for the boys. Her hands shook as she taped James’ down and checked over his outfit. Their proximity was unfavorable, but she determined his outfit was alright and moved on to the next boy. Everyone’s outfits were approved and the girl checked over hers once more as well. High heels were a bad shoe for the amount of running she was doing but she had chosen her outfit for style to impress the company chief executive officer, not comfort.

Through the studio speakers, she heard Gustavo call her into the recording booth. The CEO must be close. Giving each of the boys a once over yet again, she determined it was time for her to go. 

“Okay, guys. Make my song look good for Griffin. Good luck!”

With a wink, she left them. 

When she entered the recording room, Gustavo was standing behind his freakishly fast boss, who had sat down right in front of the glass. The boys looked like ants under a microscope as the white-haired man stared on. Nervously, they took their places in the dance studio and prepared for their performance.

Arthur Griffin, as Gustavo had explained, was the fourth richest CEO in America. Executive officer of many companies, apparently he had a soft spot for pop music since he was raising a teenage daughter who was obsessed with keeping in with all the currently popular styles and trends. Griffin was a hard man to please, he had some strange tastes it sounded like, but Roxanne was sure her band would blow him away.  

Kelly pressed a button, starting their vocal cues and the boys showed how much their hard work had paid off. Each one of them had nailed their dances and hadn’t even skipped a beat in the process. Pride swelled from Roxy as her song blasted through the speakers. 

“It’s the only life you got, so you gotta live it big time.” 

Signaling the end of their performance, they could see Roxy jumping up and down through the glass, clapping for her friends. Carlos shot her a wink before he shifted his gaze to see Griffin’s reaction. 

Silent for a moment, the man stroked his chin in thought. 

“I like ‘em, and the board’s gonna love ‘em,” the tall man said as he swiveled his chair to see his underlings. “And wonderful song, Miss Somerset. You have one month to make your demos. I told you the boy band was back-”

Before he could even finish what he was saying, Roxanne tore out of the room and into the studio, launching herself at the band. Gleefully, Logan caught her and spun her around the room as he determined her happiness could only mean one thing. Once the rest of the boys spied the look of delight on her face, they knew they had made it.

“You did it!” Roxanne yelled, beginning to sing her song while dancing around the studio, terribly copying the band’s moves. 

The four danced along with her, making sure to poke fun at her awkward steps. Though the next month would be hard, they were incredibly grateful for the opportunity to become the newest pop sensation. 

“Well, guess who’s stayin’ in L.A.,” Gustavo said over the loudspeaker as the five teens were celebrating. “And stop cheering. If you thought the last three days were hard, wait until you see the next month.”

Big Time Rush and their prized songwriter ignored Gustavo as he kept blabbering about how terrible the guys were - all exchanging hugs and fantasizing about the future. 

“I can’t believe it…” Kendall trailed off.

“You better, how else do you think we whipped into shape so quickly? This was all your idea in the first place, of course it paid off.”

His studious friend nodded as he praised the frontman. 

“The next month is going to be great, boys!” Roxanne cheered, giving her friends one more glance over before sending them back to wardrobe. “You’ve gotta lose the hat next time, Kendall.”

“I don’t know, I kinda like it.”

And the musical journey begins…

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Find me on wattpad + ao3!

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Next Chapter (To be uploaded)

#big time rush #btr #james diamond #kendall knight #logan mitchell #carlos garcia #thats all she wrote fic #fanfiction #boy bands #boy band #music #songwriting #Roxanne Somerset

[hologramcowboy]

Good Morning America Review

Outfit: 9/10

While this outfit isn’t my cup of tea, it’s better than anything he’s worn in a while. The colors actually work with his complexion, it’s appropriate for the occasion, and it does look like something Jensen would have picked for himself in his pre stylist days. I did take a point off for the sneakers (they make me think of Ellen Degeneres) and because when he sits down his pants are a bit too short and with the white socks + white sneakers combo it’s just not a good look.

The host of the show makes it obvious that she is reading off a teleprompter when she’s introducing Jensen. Right off the bat she is setting the tone of the interview as uninteresting and unimportant, which is super unprofessional of her. A big part of being a good talk show host is treating every guest as though they are the most interesting person in the world and as though you personally follow their career with great interest. Immediately we know she does know who Jensen is, nor does she care. Some unpaid intern gave her a file about him, she skimmed through it and called it good. Another big part of being a good talk show host is being so charismatic that it rubs off on your guests. You put people at ease, make them forget about the cameras and the audience. You have to be able to turn even the most unpersonable guest into someone who can charm and capture the attention of your audience. Jensen needs all the help he can get in this department (we know talk shows aren’t a place he shines), and she provided none. Anyone can ask questions, not everyone can be an interviewer. I’m going to try to go easy on Jensen given that this lady isn’t giving him much to work with.

Jensen was clearly very nervous, he was stuttering from the very beginning. Not quite making eye contact, closing his eyes for a smidge too long between blinks. This interview is all business, no fluffy family or personal life talk. Lackluster answers about The Boys, can’t really talk about the show behind his own character which tells me that he doesn’t actually care about it beyond his own role/paycheck. When he talks about Soldier Boy it’s the same canned responses about toxic masculinity and being a bad person. He doesn’t give any real depth to the character. Once you’ve heard Jensen give one interview about The Boys, you’ve heard them all.

Interestingly enough she asked about The Winchesters, and it’s clear that Jensen wished she didn’t. Jensen says that fans really wanted more from the Supernatural universe. That’s true, though this wasn’t the story anyone wanted because it’s one that was already told. Jensen stumbled over talking about the premise of the prequel, she took pity on him and referred to it as what fans need to complete the puzzle. Jensen said “I think so, we’re just expanding. We’ll see where we go from there.” He clearly has no clue what’s going on with the project and what they’re going to do to get themselves out of the hole they’ve dug themselves into.

The interview ends kind of abruptly, the whole thing was kind of a waste of four minutes. I kept waiting for them to get to the point or for it to get interesting and it never did. GMM has their comment section on so I took a peek to see what others were saying. Mostly AAs singing Jensen’s praises, but people who don’t know him noticed that between the rigid, formulaic way GMM conducts interviews and the interviewer’s lack of interest and charm this just wasn’t a good interview.

This review is so spot on.

Reference: X Part II of III Part I: X

#jensen critical

[five-rivers]

Pep Talks 12

I think this might be the longest chapter of Pep Talks so far...

(AO3)

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When Clockwork first took Danny on as an apprentice, he’d laid out some ground rules for when he unexpectedly found himself in an unknown timeline. As Apprentice of Time, Danny was more likely to attract anomalies like natural portals and the like, and when that was combined with his innate bad luck regarding portals, well… winding up in weird places wasn’t quite a weekly occurrence, but saying it was wouldn’t have been a huge exaggeration.

That’s all to say, Danny appreciated the rules. He didn’t want to wind up never having been born again, or, worse, making it so that one of his friends had never been born. Or causing an apocalypse. Or wrecking the future. Or—

There were just a lot of problems that he could, and had, caused.

If Clockwork were able to pick Danny up right away every time, most of the rules probably would have been unnecessary. But he wasn’t. Mostly because of physics-shaped problems involving paradoxes and how too many time portals in the same general area could screw things up, but also because of Observant- and politics-shaped problems. And, Clockwork had admitted to Danny, sometime Clockwork left him somewhere because he was supposed to be there.

The first rule was to lay low. Avoid people when possible, except to acquire basic necessities. Avoid major events, crowds, protests, and cameras. Avoid important-looking buildings.

Do not offer help unless asked first, or unless the person is a ghost. There was, evidently, a loophole that made it okay for Danny to interact with ghosts even in places where it wasn’t okay for him to do the same to humans. Clockwork had said ghosts fell under Danny’s ‘jurisdiction,’ a term that seemed just a bit too weighty with meaning for Danny. As for being allowed to help when asked… Well, Clockwork knew that Danny was incapable of not helping. Although he did ask that Danny be subtle and indirect about it.

He was also not supposed to fight anyone unless he himself was directly attacked, for similar reasons.

The fourth rule was to stay within the accepted rules of the world he found himself in, where possible. In other words, if people generally didn’t believe in ghosts or the supernatural, don’t challenge that belief by using his powers in public, but if superpowers were common, it was okay to use them.

The fifth was that, if he found himself in the past, leave civilized areas. With the threat of unpersoning himself hanging over his head, Danny took that one very seriously.

The sixth, the one that made Danny feel like a little kid despite his real age, was, if the previous rule didn’t apply, try to stay in the same general area he first found himself in.

There were others, of course, and special ones for special circumstances. For example, if he was captured by law enforcement, or injured, or actively in danger, or if he didn’t know what time period he was in. Different sets of rules prevailed if he was actually on a mission.

Clockwork had also told him that the rules no loner applied if it took him more than two weeks to find Danny. That, if he’d been waiting for that long, something had gone wrong, or Clockwork was unable to find him or pull him out.

It had been just under half that time, and Danny was starting to get worried. More worried.

He pulled his legs up, closer to himself. He didn’t need to conserve warmth, being what he was, but the action was comforting and the abandoned warehouse he was in was weird and creepy.

This whole timeline was weird and creepy. Also, semi-apocalyptic. They were going through some serious societal upheaval. Danny wasn’t entirely sure why, having only been here for six days, but he was pretty sure it had to do with the nascent ghosts partially overshadowing people and giving them power.

At least, that’s what it felt like. Danny wasn’t sure. The next nearest thing to this he’d ever encountered was a warlock, and that had been just one person. Ghosts were under his jurisdiction, but, like the warlock, the people with powers here didn’t quite feel like ghosts, and he wasn’t sure how trustworthy news sources saying that metahumans were all soulless degenerates were…

Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to find out. Hopefully, Clockwork would pick him up before another week went by.

He didn’t think the government here could actually catch him, but some of the things they apparently did to metahumans made his core ache. It was a very X-Men-like situation. Except, well, set in Japan.

Why Japan?

But! Eight more days. Tops. Clockwork would get him.

Before he’d finished the thought, something blew the door of the warehouse in and a ropelike appendage hurtled towards Danny’s corner.

He reacted. Rules were, if someone attacked him, he could respond in kind, and if superpowers were common knowledge, he could use his.

There were at least a dozen of them, all of them displaying an eclectic array of superpowers, some reminiscent of Danny’s ghostly enemies, others entirely novel to him. A fair few also had guns. One man even used multiple powers. Needless to say, the battle was incredibly one sided.

In Danny’s favor.

Hey, he’d been doing this for years, and he was very comfortable with his abilities. Most of these guys weren’t. Most. The multiple-power guy had been challenging.

Danny examined his captives. He should probably just knock them out, then go find a new hideout somewhere else, but he wanted to know why he was attacked, first.

“So,” he said, deciding that the curly-haired man with multiple powers was probably the leader, given the way the battle had been structured, “why did you and your goons attack me?”

“I heard you were like me,” growled the man, attempting to escape Danny’s telekinetic hold. “I’m looking for a power that can help my brother.”

Danny twitched slightly at the word help. “What do you mean, like you?”

“You can take powers, too,” said the man, staring up at Danny with desperate, hungry, red eyes.

Danny blinked, frowned. “You thought I could help you, or your brother, so you attacked me?” His frown became deeper. “Or did you attack me to, what, steal my powers?”

The man squirmed.

It was. That was such a ridiculous villain cliché, although the brother thing was a twist. People could get desperate about their families and do terrible things.

Including Danny. As had been proven many, many times.

His heart and stance both softened. This counted as a request for help, right? And the guy was sort of ghostly. On the other hand… Transplanting whatever it was giving these people powers willy-nilly couldn’t be healthy, especially if it was related to ghosts.

(Multiple ghosts in one body… It reminded him of his dark future self, which was never good.)

“Okay,” he said, dragging a hand down his face. “Alright. What exactly does your brother need help with?”

The man clearly hadn’t expected Danny to ask this question. “He’s sick,” he said. His eyes gleamed at the edge of tears. “His body is tearing itself apart, DNA molecule by DNA molecule. If I could just find the right ability, I could save him,” the man’s voice broke, “I knowit.”

Molecule by molecule, huh?

Actually… that was something Danny could help with. Crud. People had powers here, right? He was being asked for help, wasn’t he? He was staying within the rules. Especially seeing as these guys were like warlocks. He was only doing warlock stuff.

“If I help you with this—if,” he stressed when the man perked up. “If I help you with this, I need two things from you. Well, three, really. Actually, no, four.”

“Name them,” declared the man.

“Yeah, I was about to,” said Danny. “Anyway, first, you need to ask your brother if he wants this. If he doesn’t, you have to come back here and return it. Asap. As in, tomorrow.” He was pretty sure he could get Clockwork to give him a day, even if he came to pick Danny up right now.

“Those are your first two conditions, then?”

Danny nodded. “Yeah. Third one is, you have to stop taking powers from people who don’t give you permission. The end of that road isn’t pretty.” At least, he was pretty sure it wasn’t. All those little maybe-ghosts, slammed together… Even if it didn’t have any immediate effect on this guy’s personality, the resulting ghost could wind up possessing him. If the ghost vaguely wanted to go with him, that might change things. Maybe. At least, it’d slow things down.

If this worked the way he thought it did.

The man scowled. “And you know this, how?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Look, you’rethe one who said I was like you, not me. Too much of these powers can mess you up.”

“If the number is the problem, it shouldn’t matter how I take them.”

“Do you ever get bad dreams?”

The man stilled completely. “What do you know about that?”

Danny shrugged. “Enough,” he said. “Do you want to be overwhelmed by your powers? Do you want to explode? It could happen.” Actually, Danny had no idea if it could happen or not. But it sounded good. “More importantly, do you want to help your brother or not?”

“Of course I do!”

“Great!” said Danny, clapping his hands together. “Let’s finish this up somewhere privately, okay?” He grabbed the man’s shoulder and phased them through the floor into the basement, which he lit with a ball of ectoplasm. “Okay,” he said. “Fourth thing.”

The man was staring at the ectoplasm with undisguised curiosity. “What is it? Money? A new identity? Passage out of the country?”

“Uh, no,” said Danny. What would he do with any of that, after all? “I need to know the full story behind you and your brother.”

“What? Why? Don’t you know enough?”

“So that I can be sure that I can help, first off. Also, the way I’d be doing it involved me giving you something rather personal, so…” He trailed off with a gesture that indicated he expected the man to talk.

He sighed. “My name is Shigaraki Hisashi. My brother’s name is Kazuki, and he’s been sick since we were children…”

Danny let him give a summary of his life up until this point. He had the vague feeling that he wasn’t being told everything of importance, but, then, not everything about a person’s life could be condensed into an hour or so of storytelling.

Apparently Hisashi had basically raised Kazuki, and once Hisashi’s meta power had come in as a young adult, they’d been completely abandoned by their parents. Hisashi had put together a group of freedom fighters (Danny skeptically recalled the guns, but also forced himself to remember the hints that there might be something like concentration camps for power users) to defend himself, his brother, and others with power. But Kazuki’s illness made him incredibly vulnerable, and as he was Hisashi’s one major weakness…

The feeling that he was living through an ‘X-Men Japan’ comic intensified. He felt so sorry for this guy. Danny knew what this kind of life was like.

“Alright,” he said, softly, finally, “I can help. And, this probably doesn’t mean anything coming from me, but that better world you were talking about? Where people with powers and people without can coexist? I think you’ll be able to make it happen. Just don’t let anyone stop you.”

“I don’t intend to.”

Danny nodded. “I can give you something to help your brother. A power,” he clarified. “But I need you to know, it could change him.”

“Change him?”

“His personality.”

“You were saying something about that before. Forgive me if I don’t agree with you. These powers are tools.”

“Okay, sure, but even just having more options can influence how a person behaves. Just warn him before you give it to him, okay?”

“Of course. I’m a man of my word, after all.”

“Right,” said Danny. “Give me your hand.”

“A handshake?” asked Hisashi.

“Not exactly.”

Danny let a minuscule, almost microscopic, piece of his core break free from the whole. It hurt like a knife to the chest, and some of his physical and mental abilities would be impaired for a while, but he had done it before, and it would heal before long. A fragment this size would give a power on par with those he’d seen so far in this world. It would also grow, of course, but it was unlikely for any human to live long enough for that to become a problem.

He let it pass into Hisashi, and the man shivered.

“That should strengthen his body without being too much of a burden on him,” said Danny.

“What kind of power is it?” asked Hisashi, reclaiming his hand and flexing his fingers.

“Uh,” said Danny, casting about for something vague that would fit. “A gradual stockpile of power. That enhances the user’s body.” That should be close enough. “Remember, ask first.”

“I will, I will,” assured Hisashi one more time. “And you can be sure I’ll be returning regardless, to thank you.”

“Uh huh.”

It took a while for Hisashi and his men to clear out. Longer still for Danny to find a new place to sleep. But he did.

He woke to a time medallion around his neck and Clockwork’s exasperated expression. “Daniel,” he said, “what did you do?”

.

Toshinori and Izuku stared at Danny with open mouths.

“You’re the original stockpile user?” yelled Izuku, pointing.

Danny smiled sheepishly. “Surprise?”

#danny phantom #bnha #dp/bnha #dp/bnha crossover #pep talks

[silveryfairy]

hey man if it's not too much trouble, could you give us a brief rundown of the Nocturnes? It's just, every morning I wake up and there's a new one, and I Care everyone in this establishment a lot though I don't really know them, thank you kindly have a nice day

let my preface this by saying: aayushi, i love you, and your enthusiasm and interest for the things i create never ceases to bring me joy. you are the kind of friend i think everyone should have and i say that completely genuinely outside of this bit.

i say that as an apology in advance for what i’m about to unleash upon you, because what you’re going to see is the product of my friend @himepapillon and i’s absolute BRAINROT and what comes of it when not only two people make an oc universe from scratch but what happens when we then have to explain that universe to other people

you are in no way required to retain this information as to be completely honest me and jeremie haven’t fully either and we’re the ones who MADE this shitshow. below is the shoddy family tree i lovingly crafted in ms paint

let us begin. 

for starters, i’ll specify some things:

1. not every oc on this chart is mine, as it’s a collaboration between me and jeremie - the koenig family and bishop family belong to faer but the rest is all me baby! for the sake of your soul i will only be going into my half of this Mess

2. the universe this takes place in is a pretty wacky and silly one, just, like, Slightly removed from reality. these characters are all completely batshit insane and do things that no human being probably should. it’s all portrayed critically, as the general concept of this whole thing is “the goings-on of a bunch of unhinged corrupt rich people”. we kind of flip flop on how seriously stuff is played but if i had to slap a genre on this it’d be, like, black comedy drama. i know a lot of these concepts sound kinda fucked to write but that’s just because i’m trying to describe them in a SOMEWHAT concise way without going into Super Introspective mode

the nocturnes are an incredibly influential and rich family in the uk that tends to produce very influential and rich people. they’re also all a little bit insane. the main characters of this Saga are the sons of desmond and xanthes, the family’s resident Power Couple and biggest figureheads. they suck ass but that will become apparent the second i talk about their children.

from oldest to youngest, the nocturne boys are:

ichor nocturne, 25 - the eldest, ichor was disowned from the household when he was 18 for unruly behavior, sent to live alone on a farm so he couldn’t tarnish his family’s image any further. since then, you’d think the isolation has driven him a bit mad - he’s a very prolific cotton farmer and has been doing astonishingly well for himself, running his farm on his own with only his parents’ inheritance as help. ...that, and, of course, the blood of the people he executes to keep his crops growing - or so he believes. he moonlights as an executioner in the small town over, exterminating the ‘pests’ of the city. despite his newfound violence, he still routinely checks in on his siblings, finding ways to mysteriously end up at their door to pay visits. the older brother instinct still hasn’t left

icarus nocturne, 23 - the second eldest (only by technicality, as he is a twin), icarus is the family’s golden child! but not in terms of business or anything, oh no - icarus is a famous heartthrob teen (sorta) musician! he’s been in the limelight since he was a little boy, being an actor as a small child and getting into music as he grew. his general Look(tm), accompanied by infectiously happy rave music, is a trademark cutesy mask over his face with oversized clothing - meant to express as much energy as possible as he bounces about the stage. in reality, he lives a life as forced and controlled as possible by virtue of... living the fucked up life of a child star. but his parents have someone to take the fall - so, what of his twin?

achilles nocturne, 23 - icarus’ younger twin, which wouldn’t mean much... in any family but this one. achilles has had it drilled into his head since the beginning that he was a mistake next to icarus, to the point where legally, he does not exist. following icarus beginning his career, achilles was unpersoned completely - living in the family’s basement with the height of his education being for a very specific purpose... needing to be icarus’ body double on tours and for paparazzi - after all, they can’t have icarus’ purity tainted by all those clamboring fans! it’s a godawful situation. on the bright side, though, achilles has found a hobby where he can be himself: twitch streaming! yes really. under the name of 1upanonymous, hidden under a mask just like his brother, achilles at least has a fanbase that can love him for who he is! ...uh, kind of.

tomasine “tommy” nocturne, 16 - the youngest of the bunch, and it says a lot about his siblings’ capabilities that he’s the technical heir to the nocturnes’ various businesses and fortune. tommy is just a feral 16 year old that doesn’t give two shits about any fame or fortune, he just wants to party and drink and have fun like any other kid his age! he’s rebellious, loud, and charmingly annoying (to his brothers anyway), and has no real care for the gravity of his family’s situations beyond finding it annoying that they want him to be all PRIM and PROPER and BUSINESSY EEWWWWW. he’s just a funny loud little child trying to live his best life. loves his brothers fiercely

already a mess of people. and really, all you need to know about or really keep in mind are those four: the upcoming characters are largely just side ones we came up with because we thought it’d be funny to flesh out this fucked up family more. so let’s get into the anatra branch of the family - headed by jael nocturne, xanthes’ brother and the siblings’ uncle

jael anatra-nocturne, who i am not giving an age for my own sanity trying to decipher this fucking timeline - a crude and playful uncle, jael is someone the nocturne boys either love (icarus, tommy) or hate (achilles, ichor). constantly joking, as he expresses affection with loving insults - kind of a money-driven asshole, but a lovable one - he’s a career politician and met his current husband, joaquin, on the job. or, well... no longer current, because jael’s funny life of debauchery, toxic masculinity, and making fun of his nephews, came to an abrupt end when he was assassinated on live television. yipes!

joaquin anatra-nocturne, who also does not get an age - jael’s former secretary and current widow, joaquin is the local wine uncle. im not sure if that’s a classification but it is now, because he is one. an unapologetic gold-digger, he (publicly) took jael’s death frighteningly well, and is now living his best life with a revolving door of new boyfriends. his relationship with jael was a genuine and very loving one, and joaquin IS devastated by his death, but both of them just found the bit of pretending to be this loveless gold digger/politician couple very funny, and being as suspicious as possible around his husband’s death is exactly what jael would have wanted joaquin to do

taddeo anatra-nocturne, 14 - the youngest child of these two, a shy little boy with big Child In A Horror Movie energies. makes potions in the backyard and probably decorates his clothes with animal bones n stuff when he’s older. despite this he’s pretty harmless, nice and fiercely loyal - tommy especially thinks he’s fun and likes to hang out with him at family gatherings - just so long as you look past the creepy dolls he likes to talk to and fires he likes to set. especially close with jael and wants to be a miniature version of him, buuut still being a shy tween taddeo hasn’t been able to act on that much.

dailon anatra-nocturne, 20 - the adopted second child of jael and joaquin, dailon is a moody and unstable delinquent that was snatched up by them just as he was about to age out of foster care. while he has a chill ‘cool-older-even-though-he’s-younger-cousin’ demeanor, the tension when he’s around his parents - jael specifically - can be cut with a knife. dailon hates his dad: ‘someone who expresses affection with insults and jokes and likes seeing people pissed at him’ and ‘someone who’s volatile, short-tempered, and sullen after living in a foster home most his life’ are just as bad of a combination as you’d expect. dailon gets himself into a lot of trouble, and is an overall very self-centered prick, but we’ll get more on that in a bit.

HELL FAMILY...2!!! that’s the last of the families to cover, buuuut there are still some other names on that list - mostly connected to dailon. this is REAL “just going on in the background” shit that you also do not need to know whatsoever (except for mitzi she’s pretty important she’s just down here for organization purposes) - i just like to play god and make characters get into drama.

[tw: cheating, unhealthy relationships, stalking]

mitzi “moon” altberg, 23 - achilles must feel very far away by now, but we’re back to him for a second! mitzi is his ex-girlfriend he met online, a fan-to-employee-to-lover and one of the maybe two people outside of the family achilles has shown his real face to. however, achilles growing up deeply unstable - between his parents’ abuse, having spotlights on him and adoring fans both as icarus’ body double and as a streamer, and in general not really growing up to be any kind of well developed human being - made this relationship a complete disaster. he grew obsessive and controlling - and when she tried to ignore him, he broke his one rule (to never go outside without permission) to find the hotel she was staying at in real life and show up to confront her. the incident was completely covered up, both by the nocturnes and with their connections, and so mitzi was forced to stay silent. this entire thing is based on this song! as time heals wounds, though, mitzi will end up doing pretty well for herself and putting achilles behind her - even getting a new boyfriend, jared!

reynard fiala, 20 - dailon’s (ex-)boyfriend, who he’s enraveled in his own weird soap opera subplot with. reynard is a relatively chill person, with an interest in art and taxidermy - just as morbid as dailon’s brother, but in a more. Normal way. genuinely a sweetheart who does not deserve what happens to them: getting cheated on with dailon’s best friend. yipes^2! while it's earth shattering in the moment, all reynard will really want to do come some time to process is to move on and for him and dailon both to heal in peace... far away from eachother (which is easier said than done since taddeo thinks reynard is super cool and loves having him over, the awkwardness between them and his brother be damned)

jared summers, 21 - the most normal person here. a longterm best friend of dailon’s, and yes, the very same one i just mentioned. he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer - what we in the industry would call a himbo if his dumbassery didn’t cause very real damage - who had been pining for dailon for years and him dating was no deterrent, and dailon, thinking the world revolves around him as he tends to do, accepted jared’s confession so they just kinda started dating on the side. jared has the moral backbone of a pool noodle, and even after it causes dailon’s relationship with reynard to fall apart, will need a wholeass intervention to be staged to make them both realize just how shitty they’re being. after that, though, jared will end that mess and be on his way to becoming a better person himself - with the help of a sweet girl he’s met online.

jared and mitzi dating in the future is the most contrived thing on the planet but just hear me out that it’ll be HILARIOUS for achilles to check in on his ex-girlfriend and find she’s dating his cousin’s best friend, who said cousin was apparently dating on the side. very small world, it is. 

anyway, thank you if you’ve somehow stuck around to read this entire thing - this isn’t even getting into jeremie’s half of this whole ordeal, which includes some of these fellas’ friends and partners, as well as more crazy rich people nonsense. it’s been very fun to think about and i do love it all dearly, even if putting it all together it’s SUCH a mess.

we don’t intend to make anything Legit out of this, it’s honestly just a fun way to pass the time. it’s the adult equivalent of playing dollhouse. in our minds this is like a 20 season soap opera but actually explaining it to other people it’s just like this

but thank you again for letting me babble i hope it was somewhat entertaining! and again, godspeed if you managed to read this much XD

#nocturnes #ichor nocturne #icarus nocturne #achilles nocturne #tommy nocturne #jael anatra nocturne #joaquin anatra nocturne #taddeo anatra nocturne #dailon anatra nocturne #mitzi moon #jared summers #reynard fiala

[ganymedesclock]

Something I’ve been thinking of for a while is s5e5, an episode very much Heavily About Family, opens with Sam Holt leaving for Earth and saying goodbye to Pidge and Matt, and then Hunk gives him something to give to all of their families, and basically, it tells us more than we heard before about the paladins.

Most of the new information is from Lance and Hunk, because we already know Pidge’s family situation and Keith isn’t present- Hunk suggests he has a single mother (“so that’s for mom’s eyes only”) and Lance gives us the names of his three older siblings (Marco, Luis, and Veronica).

But interestingly enough, who does Shiro mention, but Commander Iverson. And yes, the specific mention is “tell Iverson I’m gonna punch him for tying me to that table” but that in and of itself caught my attention because... since when does Shiro address superior officers like that? He’s known Allura for something like a year now and still mostly calls her “Princess” respectfully.

But he doesn’t even put a “commander” in there for Iverson the way he does for Sam.

And that occurred to me that...

We know Iverson was one of the people in the unit- the dialogue at the bottom of the screen is him. And there’s a few interesting things here:

I’m pretty sure actually suiting up like a med tech and personally being in the unit is pretty not Iverson’s actual standing and job description. He’s a piloting teacher, which would suggest his credentials are a pilot, and he’s not handling any medical equipment here.

The complete lack of formality goes both ways- Iverson very pointedly calls him “Shiro”- not his full first or last name, but a nickname. Nickname specifically used by Shiro’s friends.

Iverson is the guy on the left here- the guy who Shiro is looking straight at, and who has his hand on Shiro’s arm. Seconds later, one of the other med techs has to point out the arm Iverson is holding right there in that picture was replaced with an alien mechanism. Even though he has his hand on Shiro’s elbow. And would logically notice that this doesn’t feel like an arm.

So I have to wonder if Shiro and Iverson were particularly close? Keaton’s said in interviews his headcanon was Shiro was raised only by a grandparent and probably lost that person a while before meeting Keith, but while the scene in the unit looks kind of bad...

You have to remember the Garrison pretty clearly doesn’t hate Shiro at all. He’s never singled out with the Kerberos mission, and Lance, who’s only heard the Garrison side of things, says that Shiro is his personal hero. Furthermore the disappearance announcement shows both Sam and Matt in space suits- but Shiro in his Garrison uniform, almost definitely to show off that medal pinned to his chest.

Pidge in s3e1 states that Shiro was a “legend” in her house, so we have at least one Garrison Commander that thought the world of Shiro.

And Iverson? Iverson’s cold and snappy, but he also blows up about Kerberos. When Pidge doing the same thing is supposed to tell us she lost people she cared deeply about to the mission, Iverson matches her snarl for snarl in that scene, even when, in other scenes, we see that he’s not as temperamental as his drill sergeant antics suggest.

If anything, the flashback shows us that Iverson obviously hesitated to throw the book at Pidge even when she was compromising sensitive government information with her search for her family. She was, y’know, banned from the Garrison, rather than arrested.

In s1e1, while he’s looking at the Blue Lion with a colleague, the other person gives him a very blatantly smart-aleck answer and Iverson just sort of puts his hands on his hips indifferently.

Even chewing out the team, he’s snappy, but doesn’t have any real heat or venom to it until Pidge sets him off about Kerberos, and once Lance redirects it, that’s when Iverson rounds on him.

So the obvious question is why wasn’t Shiro reassured by him in the unit, if they were that close? And why wouldn’t Iverson listen to him?

Well, you have to consider the way Shiro’s acting in this scene is wildly unlike him. This is something I’ve said before, but Shiro doesn’t exactly put a good foot forwards for the team working on him to drop everything, especially quarantine protocols that are there to protect him and others, to go looking for something on his behest.

This is someone who is usually levelheaded, calm, and approachable. He is currently screaming, admits to being heavily disoriented (he has no idea how much time has passed since his disappearance) has the scars from one or two healed head injuries and is bodily fastened to an unknown piece of technology.

Considering they likely didn’t tie Shiro down to the gurney when he was awake, he was probably unconscious when the team pulled him out of the pod in the first place- which, if you pulled an unconscious person out of a car crash and they woke up screaming and thrashing enough that without intervention they’d slam their head on the gurney and hurt themselves, you’re not going to put much stock into them yelling about aliens.

Yes, Shiro has more things to make the specific aliens thing sound more credible, but Iverson has no reason to believe that Shiro’s claim that they have no time is his usual prudent thinking. If anything, knowing Shiro personally would probably make him more likely to make that call- Shiro is so upset and so panicked that anything that can make the quarantine less awful on him has to be a good idea, especially if, by Iverson’s own explicit reasoning, Shiro’s potentially a danger to himself and others.

I’m surprised at how much people discredit “Put him under until we know what that thing is capable of” if we consider the second time in s1e1 someone pushes Shiro near a panic attack threshold, ‘that thing’ lights up and proves to be a devastating strength laser cutter that’s also able to hurt Shiro himself.

Iverson was completely right about the prosthetic. That doesn’t mean he was endeavoring to lock Shiro in a basement and unperson him. If the gang hadn’t broken Shiro out, it’s almost a definite bet they would’ve cleared quarantine, got Shiro into a more comfortable, livable environment, and wait for him to sleep off the sedative before having a more organized debriefing.

Because, again, Shiro flat-out said he had no idea how much time had passed and was screaming about aliens. This isn’t an environment where literally anyone concerned with the clarity of the ensuing report would ask for one.

And again, Shiro’s awfully cavalier about bringing it up to Iverson, even through Sam as a proxy, which, if Shiro feels like someone has been seriously morally wronged here he tends to be a lot less in good humor about it.

But this leads to something interesting: Iverson and Keith.

Because Keith is a subject Iverson seems to take personally. He’s quick to talk up Keith as a very promising candidate and someone whose “discipline issue” he’s still mad about- and if there’s something to the writer comment that Iverson’s closed eye was part of that discipline issue...

It’s noteworthy that I don’t think we’ve ever seen Keith physically lash out at someone out of anger. He’s pretty easily set off verbally, but- we haven’t seen him even come close to punching someone.

Which would suggest, if Keith argued with Iverson over Shiro, not only was he already incredibly cut up about it, but, this was probably a pretty intense argument. Not something someone being a callous drill sergeant type would be able to set off.

But then I remembered s3e1- and Keith specifically being angry at the rest of the team because he felt like none of them were missing Shiro.

Why?

Because they were acting on other responsibilities.

Iverson is the highest-ranking person we’ve seen in the Garrison. There are probably ranks above Commander (possibly that woman Lance spotted leaving the unit) but Iverson’s still pretty high up the chain of command. He has a lot of responsibilities... and his overall gruffness and distant high standards suggest he’s not someone who wears his hurt on his sleeve.

There’s an easy setup here where Keith tends to be kind of socially oblivious, and especially he tends to be, again, sometimes blind to how much other people care about something. So if Iverson and Keith were both close to Shiro, I can see Keith feeling like Iverson doesn’t care afterwards.

And Iverson... If Iverson’s close to Shiro, it’s very likely that part of the reason Iverson was focused on Keith enough to potentially confront him after Kerberos was because it may well have been Shiro who got Iverson to give Keith a chance. Shiro who put the bug in his ear about this guy. And Keith definitely seems to have been floundering, hard, once he lost Shiro.

I can see Iverson losing patience with this kid because it feels like right after losing Shiro he’s throwing away everything Shiro tried to give him- especially if Iverson was grieving himself and Keith didn’t. recognize that. It’d be a perfect storm kind of situation.

(And again, if Keith hit Iverson hard enough to damage one of his eyes... much like with Pidge, there’s got to be a reason Iverson didn’t, y’know, get Keith arrested for assault)

#voltron legendary defender #vld #Shiro #Keith #Iverson #readmore

[saferincages]

(you might say we are encouraged to love)

I received an ask requesting I make this response its own post in full (which of course I don’t mind doing!) so here it is:

An anon in the original post asked why, “Anakin/Vader is seen as interesting for women,” and that could be a bit of a loaded question, but I think there’s a definite rationale behind it. The way it was phrased made me think of a post I saw which addressed the fundamental split between Anakin and Vader as seen by certain audiences, why Anakin is treated by many derisively because there’s an element of the “heroine’s journey” that happens in relation to his arc and the struggles he goes through. It’s here and it’s really interesting in its entirety. “The constant barrage of degradation and trauma and unfairness of a system that benefits at your expense and refuses to validate you for it. And some of that he might have been able to reconcile by “growing up,” the same way a lot of us learn to come to terms with social fuckery, but Anakin doesn’t get the space to do that. He gets a giant bundle of unaddressed trauma and psychological issues and handed a kind of ambiguous destiny about needing to save the entire universe.” <- Imagine the burden of that, and they put it on a child and then give him zero structure to cope with it.

I’m also going to add this comment from that post because I think it’s worthwhile to note: if someone makes you angry and you show anger with your very own face you are weak, you have lost face, you have shown yourself vain and driven by a selfish, animal, irrational, feminine urge to defend yourself; but if you show anger without a face, if you show it unpersonally (the less it’s connected to direct accusation or a specific ill), especially in order to execute a role, then you suddenly appear to be the one in the position of strength, because you can no longer be directly accused of selfishness. The more you can cloak anger in the guise of necessity, the more you meet the societal expectation to be dispassionate, rational, always controlled - the more justification and legitimacy and power to you, even though this mode of anger is often more destructive than the first. This dynamic, assuming it exists as I’ve hypothesized it, is why I think Anakin codes as feminine to many, while Vader appeals to a certain masculine ideal.

Basically, the gist of it is that the emotional turmoil, the trauma, the way he’s exploited for his talents or what he can provide others, the way his agency is stripped repeatedly from him again and again tends to not be the way “male” hero journeys are told. It’s feminine coding (unfortunately) for those themes to be explored. For those emotions to be plumbed and portrayed with a substantive sense of sorrow and helplessness in the central male hero - it is not the “macho” standard. Why they thought they’d get a macho, unyielding masculine power trip from Anakin Skywalker remains a mystery to me, this is the same series where its original hero, Luke (who is his son! of course there were going to be essential parallels and contrasts between them), purposefully throws his weapon away and refuses to fight, and is characterized by his capacity for intrinsic compassion rather than any outer physical strength (even Han is much less of a “macho” guy than dudebros tend to make him out to be - not only because he’s unmistakably the person in distress who has to be rescued from capture in ROTJ, he has a lot of interesting facets that break down that ‘scoundrel’ stereotype, but I digress other than to say I love the OT, and the subtle distinctions in Luke, Leia, and Han that make them break the molds of expectation). SW fundamentally rejected toxic masculinity and the suppression of emotions from its inception, Luke’s loving triumph and role as redeemer only happens because he refuses to listen when he’s told to give up on his friends or on his belief that there’s good in his father, his softness is his ultimate strength. Anakin was never going to be some epitome of tough masculinity, and George Lucas knew exactly what he was doing crafting him in that way. The audiences who wanted Bad Seed Anakin from the beginning didn’t know how to reconcile this sensitive, kind-hearted, exceedingly bright kid, with their spawn of the Dark Side notions, and I think, unfortunately, far too many then either rejected him completely or refused to understand what the central points in his characterization are about.

The fact that this narratively would have made no sense (if Anakin had been “born bad,” then there would have been no miraculously surviving glimpse of light for Luke to save - I’ve said this before, but imagine how profoundly essential to his true self that goodness had to be for it to even exist any more at that point, after all he’d suffered, after all he’d done. the OT tells us more than once what a good man Anakin Skywalker was, it’s part of what makes the father reveal as powerful as it is - if we hadn’t heard the fragments of stories about Luke’s father, it wouldn’t be nearly as shocking, but we KNOW he was a hero, an admirable man, a good friend). I can’t fathom how tricky telling the prequels had to have been to that extent - the audience knows what will happen in the end, it’s a foregone conclusion, we know he will fall, we know Vader will be created, we know the Empire will rise (though that would have happened even if Anakin had remained in the light, which is a whole other discussion). So the question became, who is this person? What influenced him? What shaped his destiny? And that ended up being a far more complex and morally fraught and stirringly emotional story than just “badass Jedi becomes badass Sith lord.”

That talented, highly intelligent boy is taken in by the Jedi after he has already developed independent thought and very intricate emotional dimension - the argument that he’s “too old” to be trained is because he’s not malleable enough to be indoctrinated the way Jedi usually treat the children they take. They may blame this on his attachment to Shmi, but she’s not the problem (if anything, had they not been so unfeeling and rigid, and had they freed her and allowed her to at least stay in contact with her son while he was training because it was a special case - they’re the ones who stick that “Chosen One” mantle on him, you’re telling me they couldn’t make an exception? but no, because they put that weight on him and then never help him carry it and constantly undermine it and question and mistrust him - Anakin would have been stronger in his training, and he would never have fallen to the Dark Side at all. There are so many moments, over and over, where his fall could have been averted, and everyone fails him to the bitter end, when he fails himself). 

And so he is traumatized, due to years of abuse and difficulties as a slave, due to having to leave his mother behind because the Jedi would not free her, due to being told to repress his emotions over and over again when he is, at his core, an intuitive and perceptively empathetic person (he wants to uphold that central tenet of his training - “compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is central to a Jedi’s life”), yet he’s made to feel he is broken/wrong/constantly insufficient. He’s wounded by abandonment issues and lack of validation and the human connection/affection he craved, and he develops an (understandable) angry streak, he’s socially awkward due to the specific constraints/isolation of a Jedi’s life and due to the fact that they tried to stamp out what made him uniquely himself, which makes him continually conflicted with a never-ending pulse of anxiety (see absolutely ANY moment where he breaks down emotionally, and you’ll see him say something to the effect of “I’m a Jedi, I know I’m better than than this,” “I’m a Jedi, I’m not supposed to want [whatever very basic human thing he wants, because they make him feel like he can’t even ask for or accept scraps of decency]” - they fracture his sense of his own humanity, Padme tries to validate those feelings but that Code is a constant stumbling block in his mind). He is troubled by fear and the constant press of grief (I would argue he has PTSD at the very least), and all around he’s met by mistrust and sabotage. 

Male heroes shouldn’t be treated as infallible in their own narratives (none of them are that, as no character of whatever gender/origin is, as none of us are), but at the very least we usually see them treated with respect by others. Anakin often gets no such luxury. He’s treated the way we frequently see women treated, and that treatment comes from the same rotten core - the idea that emotions are weak, that expressing them makes you lesser, that crying is a sign of deficiency, that fragility of any kind cannot be tolerated. Anakin is even the hopeless romantic in this situation - Padme, while gracious and warmhearted, is much more pragmatic and tries to reason her way out of her blossoming love for him until she’s of the belief that it doesn’t matter anyway because they’re about to die, and she wants him to know the truth before they do. (I’d also like to note that the closest people to him all speak their love aloud when they’re at the point of death - Shmi when he finds her bound and tortured with the Tuskens, Padme in the Arena, Obi-Wan watching him burn on Mustafar, and how unbearably sad is that? even though his mother had said it before, even though he got to hear it many times again from Padme - and it’s her last entreaty to him - we shouldn’t be pushed to the brink of death to express it). Anakin is the one gazing at her dreamily and tearing up about it and professing earnest, dramatic love in front of the fireplace (idc what anyone says about the dialogue, the way he expresses himself is entirely sincere, it’s the rawness of that sincerity that I think makes people uncomfortable bc it’s unexpected), she’s the one who talks about living in reality. She, too, has been taught to guard and temper her emotions from her time as a child queen and the years she’s spent navigating the murky political waters of the Senate, but she’s become adept at it, unlike Anakin. If anything, they’re the only person the other has with whom they can be truly genuine and unafraid of exposing the recesses of their hearts, they’re the only safe place the other has, it’s no wonder they give themselves over to that, and the fact that they do is beautiful, it’s not wrong (which I have more cohesive thoughts on here and it was the underlying thesis of my heart poured into the super long playlist for them too /linking all the things). They see the joy and spirit in the other that no one else ever sees, and they make a home there.

Anakin becomes an esteemed general not only because he’s awesome in battle and strong in the Force and a gifted pilot and a skilled leader (all of which are true), but because he shows those around him respect, and great care. So, yet again, there’s a subversion of what might have been expected. No one is expendable to him. He views the Clone troops as individual human beings. He mourns their losses (many of the Jedi, with their no attachments rhetoric, allow the Clones to be used without much hesitation or thought for their status as sentient beings born and bred and programmed to die in war, but Anakin was a slave. He comprehends their status more than anyone else could). Anakin is a celebrated hero to the public, and in private is being chewed up by fear and uncertainty. Anakin is devoted to and completely in love with his wife, but has to keep it a secret. Anakin still craves freedom that even being a Jedi has not afforded him, because of their rigor. Anakin still desperately has to scrape for even the bare minimum of approval from the authority figures around him - even his closest mentor and friend, Obi-Wan, while they are irrevocably bonded and care for each other in a myriad of important ways, often doesn’t understand him and dismisses his feelings, refuses to advocate for/stand up for him when he needs it, or tells him to calm down. I’m surprised they never tell him he’s being hysterical when he gets upset, but the connotation of being told to “calm down” when angry or sorrowful or frustrated is something most women can identify with all too well. His desperate desire to protect Padme as everything begins to curl and smoke and turn to ash around him has a very clear nurturing aspect to it underneath the layers of terror and frustration and building paranoia - all he really wants is to be able to protect and care for his family, all he hopes is to save them and have a life with them away from all the war and the political in-fighting and the stifling Order. He’d quit right that second but he needs help due to his nightmares, and no one is willing to give it to him. (Except, ostensibly, Palpatine, who has been grooming him and deftly manipulating him and warping his perceptions since he was a child, all under the guise of magnanimous, almost paternal, care. Palpatine is brilliant in his machinations, perfectly cunning in his evil. He knows exactly how to slip in and break people, and he plays Anakin to the furthest extreme. I’m not saying Anakin doesn’t have choices, he does, and he makes the worst possible ones, but Palpatine pulls the strings in a way that makes him feel that he has no agency - and in truth, he does have very little agency throughout every step of his arc, marrying Padme and loving her in spite of the rules is one of the only independent choices he ever makes that isn’t an order, a demand, a fulfilling of duty - and Palpatine poises himself as the answer to all the problems, if Anakin does as he’s told. He’s been hard-wired to take orders for too long. He is so damaged by this point, and so distrusting - Hayden said something once about how Anakin is still very naive in ROTS, even after what he’s been through in the war, he’s still so young and unknowing about many things, and then his naivete is shattered by complete and utter disillusionment, and that shock is terrible and incomprehensible for him, so he clings to the one source of power he’s given, and it’s catastrophic). He is haunted by grief and impeded by fear of loss, and it drags him into an abyss. We watch all of this happen with bated breath, we see everyone fail him, we see every moment where he could have been helped, we see every path he could take if only he had the ability to stand up for himself and had been given the tools to cope with his psychological and emotional baggage, we see that he very nearly turns back, up until the death knell at the end. We know it’s coming from the moment they land on Tatooine and meet him and decide to make him a Jedi. We know, and we still hope for it to turn out differently. We know, and it still breaks our hearts.

I don’t want to make blanket statements about typical male viewers vs. typical female viewers, that’s too dismissive of a stance to take, but on a seemingly wider scale, I don’t think many of the former (especially the ones who were either older fans or who were teenagers themselves at the time) were as interested in political nuance and a tale of abiding love and a young man burdened with more than should ever have been put on his shoulders. Since the question was basically “why does he appeal to women,” (and not just cishet women) I imagine that the answer to that varies greatly depending on any one perceptive outlook, but has a similar core in each case of us wishing we could help change the outcome, even though we know we can’t, and of wanting to understand his actions and his pain, wanting to see his positive choices and his goodness validated, wanting to see him learn healthy strategies, wanting to see his love flourish, wanting to see him freed from the shackles he drags with him, from childhood to Jedi to Vader. The crush of the standards of society and expectation on him may speak to many. He is never liberated (until his final moments of free breath). His choices are either taken or horrifically tainted. His voice is drowned out by those more powerful around him. His talents and intelligence go largely unrecognized. His good, expansive heart is treated like a hindrance. The depth of his empathy and love is underestimated - and that, in the end, is important, because that underestimation, ending with Palpatine, becomes the Dark Side’s ultimate downfall and undoing. Vader may literally pick up an electric Palpatine and throw him down a reactor shaft, but that physical action is the final answer to a much more complete emotional and spiritual journey. He throws him down and the chains go with the slave master, and for the first time, certainly since before he lost Padme, his heart is unfettered, his love is reciprocated, and he is offered a true voice, a moment of his true self, a sliver of forgiveness, before being embraced again by the transcendence of the light. It is his act of rebellion, it is his own personal revolution, his final blow in the war. The entirety of the arc hinges upon him in that moment, Luke has been valorous and immeasurably valuable, but he’s done all he can do - the final choice is Anakin’s (and it’s such an interesting case because where else have we ever been able to fear and appreciate a villain, and then totally transform and re-contextualize him?). He is in that moment, indeed, the Chosen One.

All these facets are fascinating to watch unfold if you’re willing to be open-minded and heartfelt and sympathetic to the journey, if you’re willing to dig into the complex depth of his pathos.

I remember seeing AOTC as a teenager, and my love was Padme, she was where I was invested, I identified with her, I loved her kindness and her bravery and her sense of honor and justice, I loved that her femininity did not in any way diminish her and was an asset, I loved that, while she takes charge and has the fortitude to rush headlong to the rescue, while she can fight and tote a gun and blast a droid army as well as anyone, her superpowers are her intellect and her giving heart and gentle spirit. I totally get why Anakin holds onto the thread of hope she gives to him for all of those years, and why he falls in love with her as he does, but since I felt a lot of the story through her eyes, I understood why she was drawn to and fell in love with him, too. He’s dynamic and a bit reckless, he’s courageous, but he’s vulnerable and needs support, he’s deeply troubled but also radiantly ebullient at times (the scene in the meadow where she’s so touched by the carefree joy he exhibits, how it delights her and takes her aback, because she’s almost forgotten what it is to feel that, she’s almost forgotten other people could, and here he is, warm and teasing and spirited), he is often guileless, especially with her, he’s fervent and loving in a way she’s never seen or experienced, and that love is given with abandon to her. Who…wouldn’t fall in love with that? It’s a gravitational pull. AOTC impacted me in certain other personal ways as well, I was trying to understand some nascent hollows of grief (Anakin losing his mother as he does was very affecting and heartwrenching for me, at the time I’d lost my grandfather to whom I was quite close, and I’m also really close to my own mom, so his woe had an echo to me), but that vision that I specifically had of their love, the way I interpreted it (which I may not have had words for at the time, but I certainly had the emotional response) was a dear and formative thing.

I talked about this here, but to rephrase/reiterate, by the time ROTS came out, my life had shifted completely on its axis. I was still young, but my much dreamier teenage self was being beaten down and consumed by illness, and I was angry. Anger is not a natural emotion for me (guilt and self-blame tend to be where I bury anger), and I really didn’t know what to do with it. Everything felt unfair and uncertain, like there was no ground at all to stand on. I hurt all the time, literally and figuratively, I was in constant pain. I was lonely and frightened and sleep deprived and often had nightmares (this is still kind of true lol, as is the physical pain part). Padme was still my heart and touchstone - as she remains so to this day in this story - but suddenly I understood Anakin in a much more profound way, one I’ve held onto because he’s important to me and I love him. I felt his rage, his anguish, his desire to do something, anything, to somehow change or influence the situation, to rectify his nightmares, to cling to whatever might make a difference, might save him from being drowned in the dark and from losing everything that made him who he was as a person. Seeing him try and knowing he would fail was devastating, but also…relatable, in an abstract way (obviously not the violent parts, but thematically, I felt some measure of what it was to scramble up a foundation that is disappearing beneath you, that your expectations and dreams of what your life would be can vanish in disintegrating increments). All I wanted was for someone to help rescue him, because all I wanted was for someone to help rescue me. All I wanted was the hope that things could turn around - and there is hope in ROTS, despite the unending terror and tragedy, it’s never entirely gone, because Star Wars exists as a universe with the blazing stars of hope and love ever ignited at its center - but still, it was a very personally rooted emotional exploration for me, and I only started to deal with my own floundering anger when I saw how it might consume the true and loving and softer parts of me if I didn’t hold it back. (A few years later, I went through this again in an even worse way, and the source of that rage and despair was someone I cared for, and once I got through the worst bleak ugliness of it, there were a couple of stories I returned to in an attempt to gain newfound solace and comprehension, and Anakin and Padme were in there. My compassionate, hopeful heart was being torn by that fury, and I clawed my way back up from the brink of it because I knew I could die, not even necessarily figuratively, it was…a bad time, if I didn’t find my way out. Anakin’s story is a tragedy and a fable and a kind of warning - we should not deny or suppress our emotions or our authenticity, but we also cannot let it destroy us - and then ultimately his lesson is restorative, too, that we never lose the essential part of our souls, that we must allow ourselves to feel. Balance indeed). 

As consistent and transparent as my love for Padme has always been, my Anakin emotions are actually so close and personal that I intentionally avoided ever exposing them for actual years, it’s like…basically in the past month that I’ve ever been truly honest about it on Tumblr, because exposing that felt like too much, but I don’t really care about keeping it quiet any more, and that’s very cathartic. 

I myself am an incredibly emotional person, and I don’t believe that Anakin’s emotions are negative qualities, which I meant to underscore. In fact, his open emotions are an exquisite part of him, and it’s the Jedi who are wrong for trying to stamp that out, when his emotional abilities are part of what define him in his inherent goodness and his intellect and strength. He has an undying heart. For he and Luke both to stand as male heroes who represent such depth of feeling is really special, and vital to the story. Anakin is the most acutely human character in many respects, in his foibles and his inner strengths, in his losses and his longings and his ultimate return to his true self - that’s why we feel for him, that’s why we ache and fear for him, that’s why we rejoice for him in the end.

Other people could speak to the Vader part of it much better than I can, Vader’s an amazing and very interesting villain (the fact that, as Vader, Anakin is much more adhered to the Jedi code and way of thinking than he ever was as an actual Jedi, for example - he has an order to him, he is much more dispassionate, he is very adamant about the power of the Force - is endlessly intriguing, because he’s such a contradiction). I use this term for a different character, but I’m going to apply it here - Anakin is a poem of opposites. He is a center that can serve as either sun or black hole. He is a manifestation of love and light and heroism, he is a figure of imposing power and cold rage. He’s the meadow and the volcano. The question then becomes, how expansive are we? When we’re filled with the contradicting aspects of ourselves, how do we make them whole without falling apart? When we do fail, can we ever do anything to fix it? And the answers again will vary by individual, but to my mind - we’re infinite, and thus infinitely capable of, at any point, embracing our light, even if we’ve forgotten to have faith in it, and while we may not be able to fix every mistake or right every wrong, we can make a better choice and alter the path. The smallest of our actions can ripple and extend and are more incandescent than we know. That’s what he does, against all expectation. In the end, he is an archetype not only of a hero (be that fallen or chosen or divine), but of a wayward traveler come home, a heart rekindled, a soul set free to emerge victorious in the transcendent light.

In the final resonance of that story for me personally, I love him for being a representation of that journey, that no matter how long it takes to get there, how arduous it is - that things we lose can be found again, that with the decided act of compassion, pure, redemptive love can be held onto, that the light persists and that, even when it flickers most dimly, refuses to be extinguished, and can at any point illuminate not only ourselves, but can shine brightly enough to match the stars in the universe.

I hope this is at all cogent, here’s a gif for your patience ♥

#anakin skywalker #darth vader #sw meta #star wars #okay to reblog #(of course! <3) #this is so long i'm so sorry for anyone who's now seen it twice but i didn't want to ignore the very sweet message i got #(which i am honored by thank you for even asking and caring and being patient enough to read this spiel omg) #i tweaked some of the wording for clarity (i changed it in the original too) but otherwise it's basically the same #bubble wrap around my heart #* #encouraged to love #anyway i love him #and i love luke so much and that's a vital component here #luke's faith and kindness and important heroism exists for a reason #luke sees the truth and the good and he doesn't let it go and his spirit does not waver and is brightly right in the end #don't you dare try to tell me anakin wasn't always fundamentally good in the truest and most luminous parts of his heart #to do so is to not only undermine anakin but to invalidate luke and padme and i won't stand for that #i could write one of these for luke but i think he's getting really good defense from sharper minds than mine in many cases #i could write one of these for padme but she's also been getting quality recognition lately #so as far as any defense goes this is the best my exhausted little brain can do and i hope it does justice to the story in some small way #i'm so ill and out of it that i have no idea if this makes sense even after copy/pasting it and fixing it up but itried.jpg #long post for ts

[xek-xek]

To be honest my usual response to star wars fandom stuff is to not talk to anyone but i was bored and i had some thoughts™ so i’m gonna throw my hat in the ring.

I’m gonna preface this by saying that”

1. After watching tlj i think a Kylo redemption arc is off the table.

2. I’m black/african american.

3. Reylo is bad.

OKay got that out of the way here’s my piece.

A kylo redemption arc would have served a completely different narrative purpose then Finn’s character arc, and agressively posting images of Finn whenever someone even implies they’d like Kylo to come back to the light side doesn’t do any good.

Now i’m going under a cut. (also there’s gonna be some last jedi spoilers/

A lot of people seem to think Finn and Kylo’s character arcs about “being raised to be evil” and that that means they’re the same. But i feel like this is an oversimplification of both characters.

Saying Finn was “raised to be evil” ignores a lot of the intricacies of his situation. Finn wasn’t raised to be evil he was raised to be obedient. The first order wanted him to be an “unperson” but he was able to break through their conditioning. Finn came to the light before he even had a chance to really be on the dark side in the first place.

But Ben/Kylo is different from the get go he was someone “important”. His mother and uncle are the force sensitive saviors of the galaxy, his father was a rebellion hero. He had a lot on his shoulders and it must have been heavy. But in addition to that going back to before he was even born there’s been a strangers voice in the back of his head whispering terrible things. Whether he ever tried to tell anyone about this or not we know no one really tried to do anything about it. The last straw was when his uncle who he thought he could trust came to try and kill him. He must have believed that his whole family saw him as a monster. So he became one.

Finn’s story is about recovering from injustice committed against yourself, it’s about making the choice to be more then an uncaring society told you you could be.

But a kylo redemption if it were to happen would be about recovering from mistakes, one’s you’re responsible for and one’s you’re not. 

Finn and Ben’s stories have parallels yes but they are not and never will be the same. And it’s possible for people to relate to Ben in different ways then they relate to Finn, and some people might even relate to Ben and not relate to Finn. 

anyway tldr stop being mean.

#star wars #tlj spoilers #i didn't edit this at all and i'm not going to so there might be some spelling and grammar mistakes #meta #i guess idk

[fmservers]

The new Two Minutes Hate

You see it first on Facebook or Twitter. Something contemptible: an image, or a video, or a tweet. One accompanied by a furious, snarky caption, highlighting just how awful and unacceptable it is, a dunk fueled by rage. The outrage rises within you. How can it not? You’re primed for outrage. We all are, now. Outrage grenades just waiting for our pins to be pulled.

Usually, if you dig down behind the outrage to its fuel, it’s because our most cherished beliefs, the ones with which we most strongly identify, are – maybe implicitly, maybe implicitly – being attacked.

It was a noise that set one’s teeth on edge and bristled the hair at the back of one’s neck. The Hate had started […] delivering his usual venomous attack upon the doctrines of the Party — an attack so exaggerated and perverse that a child should have been able to see through it, and yet just plausible enough to fill one with an alarmed feeling that other people, less level-headed than oneself, might be taken in by it.

It’s important to point out that this outrage is not caused by fake news. Sometimes, maybe, but not usually. The assholes out there are very real, and often their behavior is indeed hateful. Maybe they’re teenagers; maybe they’re politicians; maybe they’re celebrities; maybe they’re just randos catapulted into notoriety by today’s algorithmic tsunami.

Sure, you don’t have all the context. You never have all the context. But sometimes you don’t need all the context, and sometimes even when you have it, it only reinforces the cries of outrage and hate you see flying in from all sides, from your friends, from your acquaintances, endlessly retweeted and shared.

Before the Hate had proceeded for thirty seconds, uncontrollable exclamations of rage were breaking out from half the people in the room […] In its second minute the Hate rose to a frenzy. People were leaping up and down in their places and shouting at the tops of their voices in an effort to drown the maddening bleating voice […] The dark-haired girl behind Winston had begun crying out ‘Swine! Swine! Swine!’ and suddenly she picked up a heavy Newspeak dictionary and flung it at the screen.

Are these ephemerally prominent assholes truly the worst people on earth? Of course not. The worst people on earth tend to do their work quietly, or in remote corners of the planet, away from cameras. What matters about these assholes is that they’re emblematic. They become convenient representations of everything we despise. And because emblems aren’t human, they’re just 2-D cardboard cutouts, there’s no risk of any compassion undercutting our hate.

I’m not saying sympathy. Of course you shouldn’t sympathize with assholes. But sympathy and compassion are two very different things. Compassion is the aching recognition that everyone is as human as you, including people who do awful, hateful things, and that their lives too were dictated mostly by forces beyond their control.

But the dark magic of social media is that it strips all compassion from our outrage, as casually and automatically as it strips videos of context or images of EXIF data.

The horrible thing about the Two Minutes Hate was not that one was obliged to act a part, but, on the contrary, that it was impossible to avoid joining in. Within thirty seconds any pretense was always unnecessary. A hideous ecstasy of fear and vindictiveness, a desire to kill, to torture, to smash faces in with a sledge-hammer, seemed to flow through the whole group of people like an electric current, turning one even against one’s will into a grimacing, screaming lunatic. And yet the rage that one felt was an abstract, undirected emotion which could be switched from one object to another like the flame of a blowlamp.

Each wave of outrage is a little easier than the last, as the pathways of hate in our brain become greased, become smoothed, become automatic like muscle memory. Soon the assholes become unpersons, axiomatically and automatically unworthy of compassion. When you participate in the hate, you become a more hateful person yourself. Of course you don’t intend to. Of course you think yourself better than that, more righteous.

But there’s no disjoint between being more righteous and more hateful. On the contrary. Those two things are very closely correlated. In fact they feed back on one another in a virtuous cycle that grows into a tornado.

On the sixth day of Hate Week, after the processions, the speeches, the shouting, the singing, the banners, the posters, the films, the waxworks, the rolling of drums and squealing of trumpets, the tramp of marching feet, the grinding of the caterpillars of tanks, the roar of massed planes, the booming of guns–after six days of this, when the great orgasm was quivering to its climax […] at just this moment it had been announced that Oceania was not after all at war with Eurasia. Oceania was at war with Eastasia. Eurasia was an ally.

There was, of course, no admission that any change had taken place. Merely it became known, with extreme suddenness and everywhere at once, that Eastasia and not Eurasia was the enemy. […] At every few moments the fury of the crowd boiled over and the voice of the speaker was drowned by a wild beast-like roaring that rose uncontrollably from thousands of throats. The most savage yells of all came from the schoolchildren. […] The Hate continued exactly as before, except that the target had been changed.

I’m not suggesting that these tsunamis of online outrage are bad because their targets are invalid. Sometimes they are, but that’s not my point. My point is that participation in them is harmful — to you, and to us all — even though, maybe even especially when, its targets are completely valid.

It’s a weird and crazy and utopian notion, I know, but here’s an odd proposal. Maybe it’s too much to ask that you stop tweeting snd sharing your outrage and hate. But how about this: if you do participate, then for every ejaculation of fury, add another one, a balancing tweet, a quick thoughtful Facebook post, wherein you express some compassion — again, not sympathy, not agreement, but compassion — for someone with whom you bitterly disagree. You never know. It might become a habit.

Via Jon Evans https://techcrunch.com

#TechCrunch

[toomanysinks]

The new Two Minutes Hate

You see it first on Facebook or Twitter. Something contemptible: an image, or a video, or a tweet. One accompanied by a furious, snarky caption, highlighting just how awful and unacceptable it is, a dunk fueled by rage. The outrage rises within you. How can it not? You’re primed for outrage. We all are, now. Outrage grenades just waiting for our pins to be pulled.

Usually, if you dig down behind the outrage to its fuel, it’s because our most cherished beliefs, the ones with which we most strongly identify, are – maybe implicitly, maybe implicitly – being attacked.

It was a noise that set one’s teeth on edge and bristled the hair at the back of one’s neck. The Hate had started […] delivering his usual venomous attack upon the doctrines of the Party — an attack so exaggerated and perverse that a child should have been able to see through it, and yet just plausible enough to fill one with an alarmed feeling that other people, less level-headed than oneself, might be taken in by it.

It’s important to point out that this outrage is not caused by fake news. Sometimes, maybe, but not usually. The assholes out there are very real, and often their behavior is indeed hateful. Maybe they’re teenagers; maybe they’re politicians; maybe they’re celebrities; maybe they’re just randos catapulted into notoriety by today’s algorithmic tsunami.

Sure, you don’t have all the context. You never have all the context. But sometimes you don’t need all the context, and sometimes even when you have it, it only reinforces the cries of outrage and hate you see flying in from all sides, from your friends, from your acquaintances, endlessly retweeted and shared.

Before the Hate had proceeded for thirty seconds, uncontrollable exclamations of rage were breaking out from half the people in the room […] In its second minute the Hate rose to a frenzy. People were leaping up and down in their places and shouting at the tops of their voices in an effort to drown the maddening bleating voice […] The dark-haired girl behind Winston had begun crying out ‘Swine! Swine! Swine!’ and suddenly she picked up a heavy Newspeak dictionary and flung it at the screen.

Are these ephemerally prominent assholes truly the worst people on earth? Of course not. The worst people on earth tend to do their work quietly, or in remote corners of the planet, away from cameras. What matters about these assholes is that they’re emblematic. They become convenient representations of everything we despise. And because emblems aren’t human, they’re just 2-D cardboard cutouts, there’s no risk of any compassion undercutting our hate.

I’m not saying sympathy. Of course you shouldn’t sympathize with assholes. But sympathy and compassion are two very different things. Compassion is the aching recognition that everyone is as human as you, including people who do awful, hateful things, and that their lives too were dictated mostly by forces beyond their control.

But the dark magic of social media is that it strips all compassion from our outrage, as casually and automatically as it strips videos of context or images of EXIF data.

The horrible thing about the Two Minutes Hate was not that one was obliged to act a part, but, on the contrary, that it was impossible to avoid joining in. Within thirty seconds any pretense was always unnecessary. A hideous ecstasy of fear and vindictiveness, a desire to kill, to torture, to smash faces in with a sledge-hammer, seemed to flow through the whole group of people like an electric current, turning one even against one’s will into a grimacing, screaming lunatic. And yet the rage that one felt was an abstract, undirected emotion which could be switched from one object to another like the flame of a blowlamp.

Each wave of outrage is a little easier than the last, as the pathways of hate in our brain become greased, become smoothed, become automatic like muscle memory. Soon the assholes become unpersons, axiomatically and automatically unworthy of compassion. When you participate in the hate, you become a more hateful person yourself. Of course you don’t intend to. Of course you think yourself better than that, more righteous.

But there’s no disjoint between being more righteous and more hateful. On the contrary. Those two things are very closely correlated. In fact they feed back on one another in a virtuous cycle that grows into a tornado.

On the sixth day of Hate Week, after the processions, the speeches, the shouting, the singing, the banners, the posters, the films, the waxworks, the rolling of drums and squealing of trumpets, the tramp of marching feet, the grinding of the caterpillars of tanks, the roar of massed planes, the booming of guns–after six days of this, when the great orgasm was quivering to its climax […] at just this moment it had been announced that Oceania was not after all at war with Eurasia. Oceania was at war with Eastasia. Eurasia was an ally.

There was, of course, no admission that any change had taken place. Merely it became known, with extreme suddenness and everywhere at once, that Eastasia and not Eurasia was the enemy. […] At every few moments the fury of the crowd boiled over and the voice of the speaker was drowned by a wild beast-like roaring that rose uncontrollably from thousands of throats. The most savage yells of all came from the schoolchildren. […] The Hate continued exactly as before, except that the target had been changed.

I’m not suggesting that these tsunamis of online outrage are bad because their targets are invalid. Sometimes they are, but that’s not my point. My point is that participation in them is harmful — to you, and to us all — even though, maybe even especially when, its targets are completely valid.

It’s a weird and crazy and utopian notion, I know, but here’s an odd proposal. Maybe it’s too much to ask that you stop tweeting snd sharing your outrage and hate. But how about this: if you do participate, then for every ejaculation of fury, add another one, a balancing tweet, a quick thoughtful Facebook post, wherein you express some compassion — again, not sympathy, not agreement, but compassion — for someone with whom you bitterly disagree. You never know. It might become a habit.

source https://techcrunch.com/2019/01/27/the-new-two-minutes-hate/

[tulagibtc-blog]

A mark of one's existence - records in the blockchain

Part of being a human is wanting to leave a mark on the world. Within us lies the deep need to be remembered, in some form, after we die. We see it in the Cueva de las Manos - Cave of the Hands, where the inhabitants left the outlines of their hands painted on the walls as early as 13'000 years ago.

Cave of the Hands

We hear the same plight from Horace some 2000 years ago in his Odes when he states "non omnis moriar" - "not all of me will die". Similarly, to condemn someone to be forgotten was a fate worse than death for the ancient Romans. It was called damnatio memoriae, or "the condemnation of memory". In our digital age it is perhaps easier than ever to remove someone from history. While it is easier than ever to record what's going on, it is similarly just as easy to alter and distort the events thanks to tools like Photoshop.

Frequency of miracles

Photos can be altered, memories can be called into question, records could be rewritten, and we can end up with the Mandela Effect. Add to it the right to be forgotten, and soon it might be hard to believe any record or lack of it on the Internet. George Orwell would be proud of what we could do to make someone an unperson. Everything could be subject to change. Everything that is, except blockchains.

Proof of Existence

While working at Factom I heard a great tagline - "It is hard to guess today what lie you want to tell tomorrow". It might be a very profound statement in today's world of digital records - if you can't backdate, alter historical records or the like, you'd better be completely sure how you want to proceed ahead of time. All of this is of course only possible through the Proof of Existence and the blockchain technology. Only networks such as Bitcoin or Ethereum can be seen as objective records of history anymore. They alone are big enough to be secure from tampering (if you can't 51% attack the blockchain, you can't rewrite the history) and public enough to ensure any attempt at tempering with them will be a publicly known event. Because of that, any data embedded in the blockchain will remain unchanged and hopefully preserved as long as the blockchain persists.

Record of my data

Today is my 30th birthday, and I decided to celebrate with a little experiment. A few months back I contacted the Personal Genome Project Canada to participate in their research and get my genome sequenced. It has been an interesting experience, and I did find some correlation between my genetic predispositions and the health quirks I've been experiencing my whole life. During the study I requested a copy of my sequenced genomic data. It was shipped to me on an external hard drive as the files themselves were 200GB. After leaving my computer to crunch the numbers, the SHA256 results was spit out - "de7a8430be51538ebcdd031390e0de3f7cde74a9c88a76e64406e88b6259d4fe". That was the hash of my genetic information - probably the most elegant version of a digital hand print I could find. After playing with the debug options in BitcoinQT, I managed to wrap it up neatly in the transaction 32a0f8febb0f9f9c7fe1ce9a6b2a59356f443e27186d2e4b5c5a9a3e5e16f4cd, sent from my two favourite addresses - 17TQLZvXjKTrUyRnV9DuQs4RVDgNjUPeXQ, the address in which I received my first coins in 2011, and 1PiachuEVn6sh52Ez7o6Fymvw54qvQ4RBm, my own geeky little vanity address. And so, in block 1597975 (000000000000000000b43bb4162374befa73a882efa6279d87cd3f11548cff59) my transaction was anchored and became part of the blockchain history, along things like the blockchain marriage, a tribute to Len Sassaman, and the infamous Times headline chosen by Satoshi Nakamoto. To the best of my knowledge, I'm the first person to have embedded a hash of their full genetic information this way. It wasn't my first foray into embedding data into the Bitcoin history. That honour had to go to the illegal number from 2012 that was done as part of my master thesis research.

Larger records of data

Admittedly, the process of saving the data into the Bitcoin blockchain was a bit complicated. Preparing the inputs by hand, making sure the data itself is fairly small, it can all be rather limiting and potentially get expensive with larger amounts of records. Hence why it might be worthwhile to consider protocols that extend the Bitcoin protocol, while still offering the same cryptographic proof of existence. In comes Factom (full disclosure: I work for Factom). With the intent of storing the same data, I created a new chain with my name and alias - ef020b0dc14223ca454cb69b36143ffbafa8b09c0ff962b18742cd97a02735c9. The hash was anchored in transaction cdeb46cad69c01f79864e20a56cb227b94c9738b79d8291e4181f5cbd9b86f27 that became part of the block 96731 (d8fea7d7df13f0e629817a552719a7e7e9860023313ddaa5fa76ad34d655ace1). Now, there is an extra step that needs to be taken between here and Bitcoin - the anchoring process. That is performed externally by the an automatic server. It created a transaction bebfc29801239ad254da97b253c864736257143f17e3519e03e05e3761f57a8f that made its way into the Bitcoin block 1598016. And here comes the magic trick that gets us between a Factom transaction into a Bitcoin block, "the receipt":

{

   "receipt":{

      "entry":{

         "entryhash":"cdeb46cad69c01f79864e20a56cb227b94c9738b79d8291e4181f5cbd9b86f27"

      },

      "merklebranch":[

         {

            "left":"cdeb46cad69c01f79864e20a56cb227b94c9738b79d8291e4181f5cbd9b86f27",

            "right":"0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000003",

            "top":"07e5e997757ce1c4e935aecff3e1fb4bb9f7c466329de38ae19c342106283e7b"

         },

         {

            "left":"c48f1c742f8aea8c834b07615776e6c9f79d2300b4e1eb29ea6e295a55823402",

            "right":"07e5e997757ce1c4e935aecff3e1fb4bb9f7c466329de38ae19c342106283e7b",

            "top":"6d423f0c963ce0a9744eec94e07816263b82c1514c048fc43c791e19a44b7458"

         },

         {

            "left":"ef020b0dc14223ca454cb69b36143ffbafa8b09c0ff962b18742cd97a02735c9",

            "right":"6d423f0c963ce0a9744eec94e07816263b82c1514c048fc43c791e19a44b7458",

            "top":"d985f353aa34b1b7f021a30816019eac3cfd486743eb81b63295d12e7aa182f6"

         },

         {

            "left":"76c2296711dfc90eff2cec432b5592155ce13c4bd0f9cc15b01f842994358f35",

            "right":"d985f353aa34b1b7f021a30816019eac3cfd486743eb81b63295d12e7aa182f6",

            "top":"cb75287e2e1b170e5f5dc99ae7b738139305ad822e0c311cbdfb82ab0fa5d31d"

         },

         {

            "left":"3c00225e5d9f6d5e62c2926c02c5c03c31eaa831ee48d6e216dbe3b637125665",

            "right":"cb75287e2e1b170e5f5dc99ae7b738139305ad822e0c311cbdfb82ab0fa5d31d",

            "top":"fd03d8be680bb8c36ba01f224c71160f934c732a42de1c6d1d106b678e0f23a6"

         },

         {

            "left":"fabbd3f11bb85847530a6493361f3654d8617ab82ea3e34ddcc337c976917ec9",

            "right":"fd03d8be680bb8c36ba01f224c71160f934c732a42de1c6d1d106b678e0f23a6",

            "top":"92545cf4f7485731b6ee9007f9d3348759cd2edda60a9e5e7bc6ef2fa4f11cd1"

         },

         {

            "left":"35f75955731e0cfd98653a5979c6e53a0e97cd49ae91b06ec31001a96625666c",

            "right":"92545cf4f7485731b6ee9007f9d3348759cd2edda60a9e5e7bc6ef2fa4f11cd1",

            "top":"4c9d45d122337f6a85084b1492bbd3fe5fcd8a2bbfc71e7bacf283668fa0770b"

         },

         {

            "left":"4c9d45d122337f6a85084b1492bbd3fe5fcd8a2bbfc71e7bacf283668fa0770b",

            "right":"d9d488d0ddc24aae887d86ce094de1579fe10ce06e8f6b8cdb434f45c8d0cdcd",

            "top":"c0ee8f8410515485de6ca7831dcd09856e08ec89799cf90778ea3211b41b4ba5"

         },

         {

            "left":"e327276f2bbfa0bb9dc9d89095abcb0fe7dc3373a31392892099824c89c332a4",

            "right":"c0ee8f8410515485de6ca7831dcd09856e08ec89799cf90778ea3211b41b4ba5",

            "top":"d8fea7d7df13f0e629817a552719a7e7e9860023313ddaa5fa76ad34d655ace1"

         }

      ],

      "entryblockkeymr":"6d423f0c963ce0a9744eec94e07816263b82c1514c048fc43c791e19a44b7458",

      "directoryblockkeymr":"d8fea7d7df13f0e629817a552719a7e7e9860023313ddaa5fa76ad34d655ace1",

      "bitcointransactionhash":"bebfc29801239ad254da97b253c864736257143f17e3519e03e05e3761f57a8f",

      "bitcoinblockhash":"000000000000000000746bcc20463036af6deb09931d78fbd02546042b80f1d1"

   }

}

While it might look like gibberish, it's a simplified payment verification-style merkle branch leading from the transaction hash through the entry block key merkle root, the directory block key merkle root, up to the Bitcoin transaction itself. As the chain of hashes is complete, one is able to mathematically prove that the transaction indeed made its way into the Factom block and got anchored into the Bitcoin blockchain. The same mechanism could be used to anchor data such as text into the blockchain, for example securing entire blog posts to prove they existed unaltered in their current state at a given point in time. I intend on doing that for this blog once I narrow down the ideal format, but that's a story for another day.

Conclusion

Bitcoin is probably the first, objective, immutable record of history we have. Any data saved into the blockchain will hopefully remain preserved for a long time. It is possible to extend the Proof of Existence into larger data sets without needlessly expanding the Bitcoin blockchain.

#Proof of Existence #Factom #DNA #Bitcoin