ZevieObsessed2012

Anonymous asked: If you could change anything about the episode "How To Rock A Love Song", what would you change?

There would definitely be MORE Zevie!! Lol 

Anonymous asked: Hi ZO, the thing is, I've been hearing some things that Lulu moved to NY and I'm wondering if that's true. Do you know the answer? BTW, I seriously LOVE all of your stories, ALL of them! -Me AKA Lulunatic14

Aww, thank you! :) And I’m not actually sure. Her recent tweets sound like she’s still living at home (she’s mentioned her brothers a few times). But I will definitely look into it, because maybe I’m wrong. 

Anonymous asked: Have you got the piano chords for QuickSand by Max Schneider?xx

I don’t, darling. I’m sorry! But I will definitely keep an eye out. So, you can continue to ask until I come up with the answer! :) 

Charlie’s Childhood Drabble [Rags Fanfic]

Title: Charlie’s Childhood Drabbles

Description: Just a short One-shot full of drabbles of my idea of Charlie’s childhood up to the movie. This is before Charlie had the dream of being famous. 

Author: ZevieObsessed2012

Category: Rags

Characters: Charlie (and others)

Rating: K+ (mild violence) 

PART I

He’s seven.

‘Cause you know I’d walk a thousand mile so I could just see you… tonight! Mrs. Prince sang. Charlie, her only son, was scrubbing down the counters of the restaurant listening to his mother sing. The bell on the door rings as someone enters the restaurant  It’s Charlie’s mother’s husband-to-be, Arthur. Charlie scowls as the man who’s replacing his father kisses his mother’s cheek. She laughs and tells Charlie to just leave the cleaning stuff for now and go play in his room.

Charlie, scowling, walks up to his room and slams his door. It’s not fair is father walked out before he was born. It’s not fair that he doesn’t have what all those other kids have. All those other kids at school have nice things, cool clothes, and both parents. Why can’t I have that? Charlie thinks.

RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS

He’s eight.

Charlie kicks his feet as he sits in the waiting room. He’s trying not to cry. His mother told him to be brave. She said she’d be okay. He just has to believe it. You’re supposed to believe everything your parents tell you, and if they say they’ll be fine… well, they have to be right! Right? A nurse comes out and grabs Charlie’s hand. “Your mother would like to see you,” she says. Charlie nods and follows the nurse down a long corridor past the big, heavy blue doors. “She’s in there,” the nurse says, pointing to a door of light wood with a small window. Charlie looks up at the nurse, not sure exactly why she’s just walking away.

He looks back at the door, and pushes it open. His mother’s lying on the hospital bed, just waiting for him to come closer. He shuts the door and walks toward his mother. “Charlie,” she says, her voice hoarse from coughing so much the last year. She runs her fingers through his hair and he just watches her face. “You know I love you, right?” she says. Charlie nods. He doesn’t know what to say… mostly because he doesn’t know what to make of the situation. Reginald pulled him out of school in the middle of his teacher’s lesson and drove him here.

“You’ll be okay though…” Charlie says. “You told me you would,” he says.

His mother gives him a sad smile. “Well… sometimes people are wrong,” she says slowly.

“But you aren’t,” Charlie says, stubbornly refusing to believe her now.

“No, baby… sometimes mommy’s wrong, too,” she answers. Charlie doesn’t really understand what she means.

“What do you mean?” he asks, stepping back from the bed.

“I mean, Mommy isn’t okay. She hasn’t been… do you understand?” she says, feeling horrible inside. Charlie shakes his head.

“Mommy’s gonna have to leave… soon…” she says, tears falling down her face.

“Where are you going to go?” he asks.

“Mommy’s going away…” she says.

“But you’ll come back?” Charlie says. His voice cracks a bit as he’s now unsure of what any of this means. She shakes her head and pulls Charlie toward her. She sobs into his shoulder. Charlie forces back his sobs, but his mother crying is one of the saddest things he’s ever known. So he cries too.

A nurse comes to collect him as one of the doctors comes in to check on his mother. He kicks and screams and cries, but they get him out of the room and give him to Arthur who’s come back to the hospital to wait.

RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS

He’s eleven.

“I’ll be bringing it in later. My stepson, Charlie, and I will be back,” Arthur says to Pawn Shop owner. Charlie stands by Arthur’s side, pouting. He loves the piano his mother always played. But now Arthur’s just going to sell it for a stupid karaoke machine.

“Is this Charlie?” the Pawn Shop owner asks, pointing to the little boy hiding behind Arthur with a pout on his face. Charlie looks up a second as the man comes around from behind the counter and backs up. “Stubborn little one,” the man comments. Arthur grabs behind him Charlie’s arm and pulls him forward.

Charlie bites back a snide comment and looks up the owner. “Looks like her a bit,” Arthur says.

“Yeah, I see it,” the owner says. He goes back behind the counter and into the back room. As he’s out of sight, Arthur elbows Charlie in the ribs. Charlie holds in a grunt and walks around the store. He looks at the old objects hanging on the walls and the things people don’t want anymore littering the shelves.

“Charlie! Let’s go!” Arthur calls, leaving the store.

As Charlie walks to the door, the owner says, “Charlie!” Charlie stops in his tracks and turns to face the owner. He shrugs his shoulders with the look of “Yeah?” on his face. “I know how much you want that piano to stay. Tell you what; if you can come up with the money-doesn’t matter when… I’ll hold the piano until you can afford it,” the owner says.

And for the first time in a long time, Charlie smiles. He nods his head and leaves the store.

RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS

He’s thirteen.

“You can’t do anything right, can you?” Arthur yells. “As long as this place has my name on that deed, Charlie… you work for me,” he yells. Charlie glares at the man who’s replaced his mother and father.

Charlie takes a deep breath and does something he’s wanted to do for a long time. He talks back. “Says who?”

Arthur steps closer to the boy and slams his palm across Charlie’s face. Charlie stumbles backward, nursing his cheek and now split lip. He bites his tongue until it draws blood and runs up to his room. Arthur follows him and halfway up the stairs he grabs Charlie’s arm and pulls him all the way upstairs. Charlie stumbles and falls, but Arthur keeps going.

“Get in there!” he yells. Charlie runs into his room, still holding his left cheek and bleeding lip. Arthur slams the door closed and locks it from the lock he’s placed on the outside.

“Now, I suggest you stay there and make no noise! It should be fairly obvious why you’ll be staying there,for the night,” Arthur yells.

Charlie sits down on the bed and grabs an old rag from the night stand. He keeps it for times like these. His stomach grumbles, and he listens to make sure Arthur’s left. He can hear him yelling at his stepbrothers, Lloyd and Andrew, downstairs. He slides open the window that used to be locked. Charlie remembers the number of times he sat in his locked room and chipped the lock off the window.

He needed food after all. So, he lifts the window open and climbs down the drain pipe. There’s a fast-food restaurant nearby. Charlie pulls out the money he’s earned that’s left over and makes his way down the street. 

It was much easier when you were here mom.

RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS

He’s fifteen.

“Keep scrubbing,” Arthur orders. Charlie doesn’t reply as he scrubs the counters. It’s been almost eight years since Charlie’s scrubbed these counters with his mother.

“Scrub harder!” Arthur yells impatiently.

“I’m scrubbing as hard as my hand will let me,” Charlie retorts.

“What’d you just say to me?” Arthur yells. He never likes it when Charlie speaks back. Normally, Charlie didn’t… but today was not one of those times. Andrew and Lloyd are laughing in the back of the room, but Charlie ignores them.

“I was just telling you what was true,” Charlie says.

“Don’t get smart with me, Charlie! This is still my palace,” Arthur says.

Charlie scoffs and finishes scrubbing the counters. “I’m going out,” he says.

“Hey, maybe he’ll finally go missing,” Andrew says. Lloyd just laughs with his brother. Charlie rolls his eyes and slips on his jacket that’s been resting on one of the stools.

“Curfew’s at midnight,” Arthur yells after him. Charlie doesn’t reply as he walks out of the Palace. 

I can’t wait till I can leave this dump.

PART II

He’s nine.

It’s been a little over a year now since Charlie lost his mother. Sometimes realization hits hard. This is one of those times.

He sits on the edge of his bed resting his head in his hands. Tears stream down his cheeks, but he doesn’t care to wipe them away.

Everybody cries. He knows it’s normal. And though on numerous occasions Andrew will tease him, along with Lloyd, but cluelessly, (though the boys have no mother themselves), Charlie still cries. But in the privacy of his bedroom.

He swings his legs which, at this age, still can’t reach the floor yet.

He sniffles.

That’s when an idea hits him. He jumps down from the bed and peeks under it. Underneath it, there’s a scrapbook him and his mother had put together ages ago.

Or so it felt.

He pulls it out, tosses on the bed and jumps into the surface. He wipes the tears off his cheeks and opens the book.

Charlie notices the pages are a little crumpled. He remembers the number of times his mother had to push the book forward a little so that his knees would stop crumpling the edges.

She’d always laugh whenever it happened. Charlie was always too busy decorating the pages to notice when it happened.

And for the remainder of the night, in the privacy of his locked bedroom, Charlie loses himself in the happy memories the photos of the scrapbook harbor.

And for once, his tears are of joy.

RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS

He’s twelve.

He’s gotten clever at sneaking out of the window his bedroom. After he chipped the lock, of course.

Countless hours were wasted on that lock, but for good reasons.

As he hops off the city bus, he takes a couple short cut-throughs to Bernie’s Pawn Shop.

After a couple months that Arthur had sold the piano Charlie’s mother once owned, he’d plucked up the courage to ask Charlie for an allowance. Arthur laughed in the little boy’s face, but Charlie feigned confidence.

He wanted money of his own. He wanted to buy back his mother’s piano, and Bernie promised him he’d hold it until Charlie came up with the money.

Arthur finally agreed though, but Arthur played favorites. Andrew was his above-all favorite, Lloyd second, and Charlie couldn’t even be considered a favorite.

So, he had agreed to pay Charlie one-dollar for every chores completed. Charlie found it quite unfair, but he had to start somewhere. And Arthur wouldn’t allow the payment go any higher.

Charlie knew that much.

He walks into the pawn shop with his first payment at-hand. Quite pathetic, he knows, but twenty dollars is a start.

He slaps it down onto the counter, grinning a little. He is getting the piano back. No matter how long it takes.

“You got a long way to go, Charlie,” Bernie’s says. Charlie frowns a little. “But it’s a good enough start,” Bernie says.

Charlie looks over at the piano and then back at Bernie. “I know.”

RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS

He’s fourteen.

Eighth grade is full of bullies, and Charlie’s gotten used to managing his way around them.

Well, except Andrew. Lloyd is just the lost, naive puppy. Going along with his brothers schemes, enduring the verbal abuse from his brother that, unfortunately, flies right over his head.

Currently, Charlie finds himself trying to keep the money in his pockets. He needs it desperately for the piano. It’s his largest payment yet. Fourth-five-dollars and sixty-seven-cents.

If Andrew gets a hold of the money, then Charlie has to go back to swiping money off the floors of city-buses and sidewalks.

Arthur took away the allowance after Andrew and Lloyd took Charlie’s money the first time, and accused him of losing it. Arthur lectured Charlie for more than an hour.

Most of the lecture was wasted on the tuned-out, stubborn little boy, and so Charlie doesn’t quite remember it all.

And sometimes Charlie will play on the streets for by-passers with the ukulele he’d found in a dumpster nearby the Palace. Someone had dumped it there and it was in fixable condition.

It just need some string replacements and major tuning, and Charlie had spent weeks working on it. When it was fixed up, he practiced it, enjoying the sounds it made.

And so he began to create tunes, and songs. He’d gone through a major voice change around that time, but he sung anyway, and performed normally after school or on his way to the pawn shop.

He just has to get by Andrew and Lloyd with the piano money, and everything will be good.

RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS

He’s sixteen.

High school.

Not much else to say. But, his payments have become a lot smaller and less frequent. The workload is much too overwhelming for Charlie, but he manages.

He knew a long time ago that trying to buy back the piano would become harder and harder. And now that Charlie is waiting on people at the Palace everyday after school for countless hours, without pay, it makes finding time to earn a couple bucks very difficult.

So he works for tips from the few customers that come in. The current amount in his pockets is about twenty-two-dollars and seven-cents.

Pathetic, he knows. But it’s the best he’s got.

The first chance he gets, with a good amount of payment, he plans to go down to the pawn shop and pay Bernie. Every payment helps.

Diego and Martha have been slipping him a couple bucks too, when Arthur isn’t around. They know how bad he wants the piano back.

But even at the rate he’s paying, and the amount he’s earning, the piano could take another fifteen years before its his.

This doesn’t discourage him though.

Not at all.

RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS

He’s seventeen.

Charlie’s payments are better, now that it’s summer and he’s off from school. He helps Diego and Martha around the Palace a bit more, since Arthur’s been busy trying to teach “Androyd” how to put on a good performance.

Charlie tunes them out though as he works.

At night, once Arthur’s locked him into his bedroom until morning, he grabs the songbook from the suitcase packed for when he’s legally able to leave his “guardian,” and writes the lyrics in his head.

Normally, he comes up with them the more Arthur compares him to “Androyd.” Other times, his inspiration comes from singing into the handle of the mops and brooms.

A guy can dream, can’t he?

And dreams are meant to come true, that is if you really want them.

Who says Charlie can’t be the next big thing?

“Someday,” he constantly tells himself.

(Source: zevieobsessed)

madredandgreenhattie:

I did it

I’ve climbed this whole mountain

01/01/01, 02/02/02, 03/03/03, 04/04/04, 05/05/05, 06/06/06, 07/07/07, 08/08/08, 09/09/09, 10/10/10, 11/11/11, and 12/12/12

I’ve done it

(Source: madredhattie, via iamamityandcandor)