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bu1410 · 5 months ago

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Good afternoon TUMBLR - June 22nd - 2024

“Mr. Plant has owed me a shoe since July 5, 1971.”

Gazoducto Samalayuca - Sasabe. Mexico - Nuevos Casas Grandes - Chihuahua.

Part 4

Trips During my stay in Mexico, I had the opportunity to make several trips to the United States for work reasons. The aim was to investigate the possibility of entering the lucrative pipeline construction market in both the USA and Canada. Given that in Mexico our company worked for around $900 per linear/meter, in the USA the average price for installing a pipeline was around $2,000/linear meter in 2016/19. I always accompanied Mr. Davide Caracciolo who as Country Manager had the burden of finding new orders - the destinations of our trips were Houston, Dallas, Minneapolis and West Virginia from time to time.

HOUSTON Houston is a very pleasant and rich city. Capital of oil and the aerospace industry, it is a multi-ethnic place but at a very high level. Everything is ''very big'' like the life philosophy of Texas and Texans, starting from the enormous airport. The giants of the oil & gas industry have their headquarters in Houston. Hallyburton, EXXON, Standard Oil, Anadarko, FLUOR companies that employ thousands of people around the world are all here. We had just disembarked from the plane and I immediately understood that things were not going too go well. The person we were supposed to meet was not there to welcome us at the airport - Davide called him on his mobile phone, and was told that ''he was sorry but he would be arriving shortly''. ''The shortly'' turned out to be more than an hour, and when I saw the guy my doubts increased greatly. I later understood that the contact we had been provided with was none other than an ''adventurer'' (to use a euphemism) who was looking for foreign fools to scam. Once our equipment would have been imported (in his name, as per local law) he would certainly have managed to make them disappear, or to make them no longer exportable, so as to gain possession of them with a few dollars. In short, we were in an empty trip.

In Houston we would have had formidable support from that great character named Roy O'Donnel. We met him, and he assured us that in the years to come, given the large production of the Permian basin (the enormous Texan oil and gas field) and the continuing undercapacity of transporting oil and gas to the port of Galveston and Mexico , in Texas there would have been a need for a capable contractor like us. Apparently the local pipeline builders were all small companies, sometimes family-run, with just a few excavators, to which the large local companies contracted 7 – 8 km at a time. As Mr. O'Donnel well argued, if our Company had rented a plot of land, brought the equipment it had to Mexico once the Samalayuca-Sasabe project was finished, just by seeing them any Texan company would have contracted long stretches to ourself of the ongoing and planned pipelines. We reported all these considerations and impressions to the our top management but unfortunately nothing came out of it. Apparently the Financial Manager (who doesn't even speak English) was more in command within the Company than the owner himself or the General Manager.

Houston

DALLAS We flew to Dallas, Caracciolo and I, to meet the representative of a large contractor who had contacted us, asking for our availability to collaborate on a project in West Virginia. We arrived at Forth Worth airport and after immigration we immediately went out to look for a taxi because our contact was more than 70 km away. We ran into a taxi driver who I judged to be Ethiopian by his appearance and I was surprised: he spoke Italian!

Did you study with Italian missionaries perhaps? I asked him once we got on his bus. -Noo… he replied – I lived in Milan for many years.

Really?? I'm from Milan!

Yes? Well I got married in the church of Santa Francesca Romana, in Porta Venezia!!

That's really great.....……. In short, I mean someone from Mexico flies to Dallas, get out from the airport and the first - the VERY first available taxi of a line of 300 is driven by who? By someone who got married in Porta Venezia in 1987… if we had chosen another taxi, we would never have known of his existence, and I wouldn't be here writing about it in these notes. We met Jim Bradley in a very nice and beautifully furnished office villa. It felt like we were in an episode of DALLAS, I expected JR and Bobby Ewing to enter any monet the large living room with an adjoining monumental fireplace. Jim was very friendly and professional and we were very impressed with him and his job prospects. The project was located in West Virginia and required great mountain tract expertise, which our Company had repeatedly demonstrated that it possessed. We returned to Mexico enthusiastic about the possibilities that could open up. Our proposals to the Top Management - once again - fell on deaf ears.

MINNEAPOLIS It was late October and we went to Minneapolis. Between the skyscrapers in the city center there was a cold wind that we could be have been in Italian Alps on a bad weather day. We had dinner in a ''Brazilian'' restaurant that certainly couldn't be compared with the Chamas Churrascaria at the Intercontinental hotel in Abu Dhabi.

We stayed at the Hilton Inn & Suites, not bad I would say even if, as usual, very expensive. The next day, with a rental car, we went to Eau Claire, a remote place in Wisconsin. Along the monotonous highway, kilometers of fields without a living soul, cultivated with corn, soya, hay. And every now and then carcasses of moose and deer, killed by vehicles while trying to cross the unfenced highway.

In Eau Claire there was the headquarters of one of the most important pipeline companies in the USA, Precision Pipeline. In the middle of nowhere, a beautiful headquarters, modern offices, all female staff dressed and made up for the upcoming Halloween. The director of the pipeline sector was absent, having requested a week's leave to go deer and bear hunting. We were received by his deputy, a very nice guy, who quickly organized a meeting with about ten people. With the help of videos, their group's activities were presented to us, and the possible collaboration between Precision Pipeline and our Company was proposed. All in a super efficient manner, as per American procedure. We returned to Minneapolis certain that this ''was the right time'' - in the sense that faced with an offer of cooperation from a company like Precision Pipeline, our Big Boss would finally be convinced to undertake an American adventure. With a fly out from Saint Paul airport, we were happy to leave already cold Minnesota for warm Mexico City. A few days after our return, Caracciolo informed me that this time too we had been wrong. Our Headquater's response to the Americans' proposals was the usual generic ''we'll think about it''.

MEXICO CITY Otherwise called Ciudad de Mexico or CDMX or Distrito Federal or simply ''la Capital''. Its inhabitants – perhaps 20 million, or maybe 22 million – are called ''los Chilangos''. One of their most popular mottos says:

''I'm not perfect but I'm Chilango which is the same thing''.

Which says a lot about the character of the inhabitants of CDMX and Mexicans in general. Our Company had a representative office in CDMX located on the 7th floor of a building in one of the best neighborhoods: Colonia Polanco. For work reasons I have been to the Capital many times, unfortunately also during earthquakes (practically impossible to avoid them, they are so frequent). When I arrived there in December 2016, I asked branch driver Edgar Ponche about the Casablanca hotel, the hotel where we had slept in 1984.

It no longer exists – Edgar told me – it collapsed due to the strong earthquake of 1985, when there were more than 10,000 victims and damage amounting to billions. Ciudad de Mexico is a fascinating city: located at 2,400 meters above sea level, which combined with the geographical position, means that the climate is warm/temperate all year round. In winter the temperature rarely drops below 17-18 °C degrees, but Mexican girls dress like their Finnish peers, with great use of jackets and fake UGGs because ''hace un frio que no puede eser'' (it's so cold that nobody can't resist). The traffic is simply infernal, and thank goodness there is a dense metro network that takes millions of people off the streets. There is an almost total lack of surface transport, no trams, and only one electric bus line, despite the surface area of the city being immense. For the rest, Mexicans are tireless walkers: the streets are always full of people walking, unlike for example El Paso, where a pedestrian is always almost certainly a homeless person or a hitchhiker.

Plaza Zocalo

Museo Soumaya.

Chapultepec Castle

Palace of Fine Arts.

Paseo de la Reforma

Theotihuacan

The city has many attractions, the most popular are the Zocalo, the square where the Parliament, the official residence of the President, and the Cathedral of the Assumption of Our Lady of the Virgin Mary are located. Then the famous gardens of Chapultepec, with the castle that belonged to Maximilian of Austria, briefly Emperor of Mexico. The ''Zona Rosa'', the Palace of Fine Arts, Paseo de la Reforma the large artery where the best hotels and skyscrapers are concentrated, with the famous Angel de la Indipendecia. The Casa Azul now transformed into a Frida Kahlo museum, and more recently the Soumaya museum. Avenida Presidente Mazaryk is very beautiful, with luxurious restaurants and show rooms including famous Italian brands. Not far from the city are the floating gardens of Xochimilco, and the archaeological area of Theotihuacan. But above all, Mexico City is a vibrant city of life that never sleeps. One of its great contradictions is being a ''mountain city'' but with air that is unbreathable on some days. Dia de los Muertos The Mexican festival of the dead has Aztec origins and was proclaimed an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO in 2003: the anniversary represents a commemoration for the return of the deceased to earth and is deeply felt and rooted in tradition. The typical depiction of death is La Catrina, represented in the form of a skeleton with a sombrero. This figure was created at the end of the 19th century as a criticism of melancholy, or the attitude of people to deny their origins, the desire to feel foreign before being Mexican. The name La Catrina is due to Diego Rivera, the great Mexican muralist, husband of Frida Kahlo. This representation then took on the meaning of a joke towards death for the feast of the dead. Mexico city offices Our offices in Mexico City were located in one of the best neighborhoods of the city, Colonia Polanco. The choice was made taking two factors into consideration:

A location not too far from the Client's offices, given that in Mexico City crossing the city on a ''normal'' day means losing 2 to 3 hours due to infernal traffic.

Give a ''respectable'' image of the Company and at the same time ensure that the offices are located in a ''safe'' area of the city. The offices were located on the 7th floor of a modern building, which in any case was declared unusable for a short period, following the earthquake of September 2017. The earthquake struck at 1.15pm local time, and all our 12 employees rushed down the stairs in terror, especially the female staff. One of them resigned from the company in the following days, saying that from now on she would only accept jobs on the ground floor. From that day the girls stopped coming to the office in high-heeled shoes: they always wore jogging shoes, to be ready in case of emergency leave from the building.

GRUPO CARSO Our client – Grupo Carso – is one of the largest industrial companies in Mexico. Active in various fields, they possess the largest mobile network, to transport and infrastructure. The owner is Carlos Slim, the richest man in Mexico, as well as among the top ten richest men in the world. The group's headquarters occupies an entire central neighborhood of Mexico City. The complex includes a luxury shopping center (Plaza Carso) and the Soumaya Museum, a futuristic building that Carlos Slim dedicated to his wife who died prematurely. You can admire - for free - famous paintings, murals by Diego Rivera, precious art collections.

Christmas 2017 – 35 km in 35 days. It was an early afternoon of December, and I was reached by a call from Injenero Munoz, Project Director. By now I had known Munoz for a year, and when he tried to ''act nice'' it meant that ''the scam was just around the corner''. Munoz informed me that the Ciudad Juarez Court had ruled that a 35 km section of the gas pipeline (among other things adjacent to our logistics base) had been declared ''on decision-waiting ''. In other words, the Judge self reserved 35 days to decide on the request to block the works by the owners of the areas where the gas pipeline was supposed to pass. An opportunity not to be missed, Munoz reiterate. ''In this period of time you must ensure that this section of the project is completed, so as to present Mexican Justice with a fait accompli'' ''Good - I replied after taking a long breath and counting to 10 - but do you, Injenero, realize that you are asking us to complete 1 kilometer of pipeline per day''? Of course – Munoz promptly replied – but I know you can do it!! Ah…well…yes…I said…everything is possible…but I want you to know right now that it will cost you a lot of money: we are talking about an incredible acceleration, compared to our normal work program!!''. We'll talk about money later, when you've finished – replied the old and foxy Munoz. Once the conversation with Munoz was over, I called Company Top Management, informing them of the request from the Client, meantime expressing all my doubts that the goal can be achieve. In a video conference with Headquarter, the Owners and the Management expressed their belief that the challenge could be won, and that the opportunity to earn credit and money - a lot of money - with CARSO should absolutely not be missed.

The challenge had been taken, within three days, with an unprecedented logistical effort, heavy equipment, automatic welders and all the necessary equipment had been transported from considerable distances in which they were operating to the theatre of operation: 140 km of dirt roads on which they had been trailers and heavy duty transport trolleys passed through (the trencher alone weighed more than 23 tons). Having gathered men and equipment, we began the stretch of gas pipeline that we would later call: ''35 km in 35 days''. On 5 January 2018, after 35 days of ''epic'' work (1,200 linear meters of rock were also excavated), the section was delivered to the Client, complete with quality documentation. We had won the challenge, now the much harder challenge of getting the right reward from CARSO began.

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growup-thatbeautiful · 2 years ago

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our world- harringrove

My contribution to @harringroveweek July 29th! I decided to mix two of the prompts, Harringrove Lake House and Summer Vacation to make a part 2 for halfway up the stairs, although it counts as a stand alone fic as well! It can be read here on AO3 as well.

summary: “But at least you have your man beside you, huh? The world cannot shake you from him.” Steve genuinely doesn’t know what to say to that. Sure, he thinks Billy’s going to be be his side. It’s not like he can imagine otherwise, not with how engrained Billy is into his life, his daily routines. Where would he be without Billy making fun of his movie choices but watching them anyways? Or Billy himself making Steve watch the most sappy romcoms he can find, just because he knows how Steve secretly loves them.

“You’ve got that look in your eye, topolino. Billy really has your heart, doesn’t he? Tucked away somewhere, and you have that look like you don’t want it back.”

tags: steve harrington is a good babysitter, domestic fluff, summer vacation, herrington lake house, established relationship, happy billy hargrove, billy is an asshole and we love him for it

warnings: smoking, neil hargrove, implied/mentions homophobia, steve’s parents being terrible people, mentions of anxiety, light cursing

translations: “ Il buongiorno si vede dal mattino” - a good day starts in the morning

“hanno una casa adeguata?” - are they from good homes?

“l'amore non è bello se non è litigarello.” - love is not beautiful if it is not a fight.

“Ringrazia le stelle per te." - thank the stars for you

“Già cosi cresciuto." - grown up already

“Senza senso.” - none sense

“non essere timido” - do not be shy

“When night lays sad upon you

Go watch a simple sunrise

Love can open your eyes

In our world .”

There aren’t a lot of things Steve’s parents are good for. They leave the power off when they forget that Steve is going to be home while they’re away somewhere. They send him away to camps during the summer or insist he gets a job to keep him out of the house, where he can’t cause any noise, which apparently is a flaw of his. They kick him out of the house for having a boyfriend his senior year, and ironically, force him to move in with his boyfriend. Not that they could have known Billy was also going to be kicked out, but hey, he’s not one to complain. Except that it was an all together shitty time for the both of them. He was basically given extra time to spend with Billy, working around being high-school students supporting themselves with help from Joyce and Hopper, of course.

The one thing his parents are still good for, though, is this. The only connection he still has to his family, his Nonna. She’s a true force of nature, an unrelenting presence of joy and comfort, even when she’s hundreds of miles away. When Steve got kicked out, she was the first one to call him, the only one in his family to reach out at all, and she’s never wavered in her love for him. Not once.

Steve wasn’t sure how it would be, brining Billy into this world of his. Italy is definitely different than Hawkins, especially when someone stays for two weeks at their boyfriend’s grandma’s villa on the lake. There’s only so much of Steve’s past Billy can take on before he flies off. Or so Steve thought.

Turns out, there was never anything to worry about in the first place. Billy gets on with Nonna like he’s known her his whole life, spends the most evenings with her in the kitchen learning from someone who actually has the patience and care to teach him how to do things he never got taught. Steve knows Billy didn’t ever get anything like this with his family. His dad preferred to remain distant to any of his family, and his mom’s family ignores the fact that he exists, an unwelcome blemish to remind them that their daughter wasn’t perfect.

Nonna is the last of Steves family that speaks to him, but she’s the only semblance of family that Billy even has. There’s no one Billy talks to besides Steve, Max, and the hordes of children that come along with them as a package deal.

All of this contemplation, which Steve usually saves for late nights when he can’t sleep, occurs in the early hours of the morning, when he’s half awake and debating whether or not to fall back asleep. It just feels so nice, so safe, to be here with Billy in a place he grew up in.

Nonna’s house has always been home. During holidays, he would come here while his parents went on some cruise, and he would spend evenings counting the stars with Nonna on a checkered blanket and coloring on the kitchen table while Nonna made bread.

A very distant memory shows his Nonno, with his kind eyes and horrible sense of humor. A man Steve remembers to have always worn a worn down leather cap and a smile, who he only got to see for the first few years of his life.

Nonno’s death, when Steve was ten, didn’t impact him like it did the rest of his family. For some reason, he found it easy to escape the feelings of grief and anxiety because he was just happy to be with his family. That was before his parents decided he wasn’t worth the effort, before they let go all his tutors and left him to suffer on his own. He was happy then, to run around and try to make as many people smile as he could, giving out hugs and doing what little kids do best.

Nonna held onto his hand during the funeral. She didn’t let go all of the car ride home and into dinner. When she did, his hand was red and sore, but he wore it like a secret prize, a testimony to show how he helped.

As he got older, he came to Nonna’s fewer and fewer. The beautiful house became less of a home to him and just a place he went sometimes. A brief escape from his real home, which also wasn’t much of a home.

Then he had Billy, who is as much his family as anyone else. From the standard Steve’s actual family set, he’s much better. Steve is almost positive that all those lost homes of his past were just him saving up his energy for Billy later on in life because maybe he’s a little superstitious sometimes. Who isn’t?

Especially with someone like Billy. He’s supportive while being utterly, ridiculously antagonistic and the sweetest asshole Steve knows.

An asshole whose currently laying almost completely on top of him, his arms and legs sprawled out across the bed.

Steve’s just thinking about falling back asleep and letting go of the march down memory road when their door is shoved open and Nonna comes in.

“Rise and shine, sleepyheads. Il buongiorno si vede dal mattino. You won’t get anything done from that bed .”

“I can think of a few things we could do,” mutters Billy. “And I don’t even know what the other part you’re of what you’re saying means, so I can ignore it all I want.”

Nonna doesn’t waste a second and pulls the blanket off of their bed, jolting Steve wide awake from the cool morning air. “It means it cannot be a good day if you waste it in bed. Come now, hurry up. We have a lot to do to get ready.”

“What would she have done if we weren’t wearing any clothes when she tore the cover off?” muses Billy, running and hand through his hair and sitting up.

“Why would you share that thought with me? I don’t want to think about my grandma finding us in- well-“

“Uncomfortable circumstances?” Billy’s suggestion is coupled with a glint in his eye that Steve knows could mean he should prepare for something vile to come out of Billy’s mouth. “Well, uncomfortable for her. Probably quite comfortable for us .”

“You’re disgusting.”

“That’s why you like me,” answers Billy. They shuffle around the room, getting dressed and trying not to bump into each other. Steve has a strange tendency to run into things in the morning, including but not limited to walls, doorframes, animals, sleeping children on the floor, and most commonly, Billy.

“Yeah, I like you for your personality.”

“I have an excellent personality. You should know better than anyone how charming and polite I can be, baby. How else would I have gotten a golden boy like you?” Billy sidles up behind Steve and wraps his arms around his waist, tugging him tight to his chest.

“Lots and lots of flirting and cigarette breaks.” Steve leans into Billy’s touch, a sensation he can’t deny himself, ever. They do have to hurry, though. He should tell Billy to let go. Right. Right? But Billy is so warm, so inviting, especially when he fits so perfectly against Steve. His better angels win and he reluctantly turns around to face Billy. “We have to get ready.”

“You have to get ready. I still have time before the rugrats get here. Get to it, pretty boy, you don’t want to keep Nonna waiting.” With that, Billy waltzes back into bed.

“You’re so fucking mean,” whines Steve, ruffling through his bag for a shirt. To return the favor, he adds, “I’m pretty sure she said your name too.”

“Maybe. But she’ll just text me what I need to do and I’ll do it. See, Steve, I’m smart and decided to take the job that let me do the same amount of work but talk to less people and go to less airports.” Billy’s voice is muffled by the pillow and his hair is scattered everywhere in wild curls. Steve takes his phone out and snaps a picture, saving it to the photo album called “ asshole that i love. ”

“By her texting me, you mean she’ll tell me to text you in her phone because all she knows how to do is the voice command thing.” Steve choses not to respond to the second part.

“Yep,” says Billy, popping the ‘p.’ “Now go away and let me sleep. Your favorite mug is in the sink, I cleaned it last night for you. Oh, and we’re out of that honey you like in your tea, but I’m going to get some today.” Steve is struck by the sheer adoration he has for Billy, in a moment when he’s being his usual difficult self. But he also cared for Steve, last night, before Steve even knew he would need it. He noticed how Steve pours a mountain of honey in his tea and even knows which brand he likes. He’s going to the grocery store, for christ’s sake. Steve didn’t think there was much that could get Billy to willingly go to a grocery store, but apparently running out of Steve’s honey does the trick.

“Okay, thanks, Billy. I’ll see you later, love you.”

“I love you too,” Billy mumbles, probably half asleep already.

Nonna’s voice rings through the house. “Steve, topolino, hurry up. We have to be at the airport in an hour and I need to tell Billy how to set up.”

For Billy’s sake, Steve chooses not to yell across the house. Nonna is waiting for him in the kitchen, a mug of coffee in one hand and another one for Steve in the others.

“Billy fell back asleep, but I’m ready.”

“That boy always looks like he needs a good nap,” comments Nonna. “I wrote out instructions for him to have on the fridge. It shouldn’t be too hard, but I know he wants to get things ready for his sister.” She hands Steve his mug and motions for him to sit in the barstool across from her by the counter.

“Yeah, she hasn’t traveled a lot out of the country. None of them have, actually. I hope they make it without any problems. I don’t know how well they could handle anything going wrong, most of them are prone to not handling some things well.”

“I’m sure they are going to be fine, but I know that won’t help you feel better. You can’t help but worry about them,” consoles Nonna.

“I was the same way about my child, and then worse with you. There’s nothing in the world that can stop you from worrying about them, credo. They’re yours as much as they’re anyone else’s.” Nonna doesn’t give him a chance to respond to that; she turns around and rinses her mug and heads towards the car. It’s just like her, to only speak when she needs to, when someone else needs her to. Steve dutifully follows behind her, sliding into the passengers seat.

Nonna’s car is beautiful. It’s partly where Steve got his love for his own car, which Billy has kindly nicknamed “piece of shit,” but Billy doesn’t have much ground to stand on. Billy loves his Camaro way too much to complain about Steve’s own car dedication.

Nonna’s is a brilliant deep green, vintage convertible that Nonno, when he was alive, carefully took care of, waxing it often and taking it out every night for a ride around the lakes. When he died, Nonna learned how to do the same and has kept up with it ever since. She says it gives her something to do, but Steve knows it’s more than that.

Obviously, though, it’s not big enough to fit all six of the kids, so they have a cab to meet them at the airport. A shame, really, that they won’t all get to experience to joy of this car, not that they would care in the slightest.

“I cannot wait to meet the children. How many are there again? Steve, hanno una casa adeguata? Or are they ones I need to send Christmas presents to?“ She worries, fixing her scarf around her neck and going through the motions of checking the mirrors, even though she’s the only one who drives it.

“They have good homes, Nonna. Joyce and Hopper, who I’ve told you about, they take care of most of them. Billy and I help out as much as we can, too, when there are rough nights.” The engine rises to life with an honest to God purr, and they pull gracefully out of the driveway. Green forrest’s and glimpses of blue waters blur by from outside the window.

“Good, good. I always knew you would be kind. My little Stevie, growing up and getting too old too fast.”

“I’m not grown, Nonna,” laughs Steve. “There are still a lot of things I need to figure out first. A lot that I don’t know.”

Nonna brushes the thoughts away with a flick of her hand. “No one knows everything they think they should know. Ever. It’s not a condition of living.”

“Since when did you get all philosophical?” Steve jokes. “I was just talking about the fact that Billy and I happen to almost set fire to the kitchen once a month and routinely forget to pay our bills.”

“Those are bad too,” agrees Nonna. “But at least you have your man beside you, huh? The world cannot shake you from him.” For emphasis, she grabs his arm tightly, assumedly the worlds behalf. Steve genuinely doesn’t know what to say to that. Sure, he thinks Billy’s going to be be his side. It’s not like he can imagine otherwise, not with how engrained Billy is into his life, his daily routines. Where would he be without Billy making fun of his movie choices but watching them anyways? Or Billy himself making Steve watch the most sappy romcoms he can find, just because he knows how Steve secretly loves them.

“You’ve got that look in your eye, topolino . Billy really has your heart, doesn’t he? Tucked away somewhere, and you have that look like you don’t want it back. You know, I used to have that look in my eyes. No, don’t scoff, it’s true. Your grandfather was quite the charmer. Very pretty too. Green eyes that made me think of the ocean and hair like yours, except he brushed it sometimes. The first night we were together he took me dancing. Imagine that? Me, with my books and my glasses, getting dressed up to dance with a boy. The whole town was shocked, of course, that I said yes. He was encantevole. I knew the moment he took my hand and we waltzed to that old song about the flowers that I wasn’t getting my heart back anytime soon.”

“I know the feeling,” mumbles Steve. Nonna smiles at him and pats his hand lovingly.

“The first months together were absolute bliss. Of course, we had our fights. But you know they saying: l'amore non è bello se non è litigarello. Fighting is healthy. It made us stronger. I’m sure you know that.”

“Billy and I used to fight a lot,” admits Steve quietly. It’s strange, because he never talks about this. They kind of just…ignore it, like it never happened, like it isn’t how they met or how they fell in love. “I used to hate him. The way he would walk around like he was better than everyone else, like there was something superior about him that no one else had or even knew. Now I know that it wasn’t that he actually thought he was better than anyone at all, he was just trying to hide the fact that he assumed there was something wrong with him. He was told for a long time that there was something wrong with him, so he believed it and took it out on everyone else. If he was mean, no one could see that he was hurting, was bleeding his heart out and drowning in Neil’s anger. He was fighting fire with fire, just in two separate places. Max is the only who who kind of knows what it was like for him. But as far as Billy’s told me, he tried to keep it hidden from her. Maybe to protect her. Like I said, he doesn’t talk about it.” Steve breaks off, looking out the window. It’s not exactly his favorite topic, but it’s nice to discuss it with someone.

“You were talking about how you used to fight,” prompts Nonna gently.

“Right. We played basketball together in high-school, and that was the worst point. One night I was sitting for the Byers because Jonathan was off with Nance, and Max was over there too. Apparently she didn’t tell Neil or her mom, so Billy went looking and found me there with her, in a house full of teenager boys. It didn’t look good, and he made some fair assumptions about what was happening. It was…bad. Both of us probably should have ended up arrested, or at least in the hospital afterwards. Naturally, things got worse between us after that, and I think things got worse with Max too. I’m not exactly sure, I was a little out of it for a while. Trying to figure out why I cared so much that Billy wouldn’t look at me in the halls, why it mattered at all that he stopped coming to basketball. Somehow, Max was the one to piece it together. She basically locked us in a room and told us to get along or beat each other out of hatred. We chose to try and get along, which turned into what it is now.”

“Just like that?” Nonna asks.

“No,” laughs Steve. “I wish it was that easy, but it really wasn’t. It started with small things, like smoking by the quarry together or scheduling drop offs and pickups around each other’s schedules. Then, it became more over time, slowly. We still fought, but nothing past petty arguments and self-depreciation. Being with him became easy, and he was the one I wanted to talk to about things. I don’t think I realized what it was until one night when we were sitting outside by my pool in the middle of the fucking winter, wearing sweatshirts and sweaters and swim shorts for when we would get into the hot tub. It reminded me so much of that night with Nancy, when I knew I loved her. And I did. Love her, I mean. Billy was smoking and I was just watching him do that stupid thing he does where he blows smoke into your face when you’re sitting next to him. Annoying as hell. He probably hasn’t done it to you, though. Anyway, he was doing that, and I just thought to myself, “Man, I really love him.””

“My Steve, such a romantic. Who would have known? I always thought you were going to be a heartbreaker, but here you are, with your high school love, coming for a summer visit. Staying home with me most nights and playing card games. How lucky am I? Ringrazia le stelle per te.” Nonna reaches over the dashboard and rests her hand on top of Steve’s, patting it gently.

“Thank the stars for me? Nonna, you’re practically the only reason I ever though I could even be with Billy.”

“You would be with him anyway. You are soulmates. Anima Gemella. Twin souls, like your Nonno and me. I do have one question, though.”

“Ask away.” He would tell her anything in the world right now, sitting in this car soaked with memories of summer nights and deep talks.

“Why did you ever fight? I mean, yes, boys at that age are stupid and difficult, your father taught me that much, but why fight? Why not treat him like any of the others that got in your way?”

“I guess because, to me, he was reckless and dangerous most of the time, and not in the way any high-schoolers from Hawkins ever were. There was something just a little too short about him.”

“Weren’t you?” Nonna questions softly. “Weren’t you reckless and dangerous, going out in the nights.”

“Not then. It was after Nancy, so I had calmed down. And I was never the way he was, not that that makes me better or anything. He had a shit ton on his shoulders. It wasn’t till he opened up so painfully to me that I could appreciate what he had been through. It takes strength, you know, to live like he did and still have a good heart left underneath.”

“He has that strength and much more,” observes Nonna. “We are lucky to have him in our family now.” Steve’s face fills with warmth at the idea that Billy is his, his family’s, something that will stay with him forever. It’s not the first time he’s entertained the idea, but to hear his Nonna suggest it is entirely different. Coming from someone else, it seems more realistic, like it could actually happen.

He stares out of the window for the rest of the car ride, green scenery fading into urban areas and eventually the chaotic roads and twisting terminals of the airport. Waiting for him and Nonna on the pickup/drop off platform is Dustin, Lucas, El, Mike, Will, and Max, each carrying bags of luggage and looking around sheepishly.

Steve gets out of the car as quickly as Nonna turns off the engine and practically trips over himself to get to them. They all seem to be in one piece, so that’s good.

“Henderson!”

“Harrington!” Steve collides with Dustin, hugging him tightly. He hates to admit how much he’s grown to care about Dusin, how much his strange but undeniably comforting presence is missed.

Nonna comes over to inspect them, introducing herself to each of them with a smile. “When you said children, I assumed you meant actual children. Steve, these are practically adults. Già così cresciuto.”

“Wheeler, don’t look so happy about that,” warns Steve, but there’s no malice in his voice. He forgets a lot of the time how they’re growing up just like he is. To him, they’re still children, but really, they’re adults like he is. Sure, most of them still live in Hawkins for now and have him around to “take care of them” when they need it, but that doesn’t mean he’s really needed. They’re all graduated now, they’ve all moved to bigger things. This is their last summer as kids in Hawkins before they go off to grand places and become who they’re supposed to be. Steve isn’t ready to let them go quite yet, and he knows that time won’t come anytime soon.

The next hug he gets is from El, who holds him just as tight as he holds her. Steve is well aware that it isn’t easy for her to be so far away from home, from Hopper, from the only place she’s ever felt safe. “How’re you doing, kiddo?”

“I’m glad to see you,” she mumbles into his sweater. “And I miss my dad.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he misses you a whole lot too. How was the flight?” He looks her in the eyes, holding her at arms length but not letting go. He knows El, so he knows she’ll let him know when she’s ready.

“High up in the air,” she answers truthfully.

“That seems about right.” He goes through the line, hugging some of them and just saying hi to others, until he reaches the last one.

“Where’s Billy?”

“It’s nice to see you too, Max.” She begrudgingly gives into his waiting arms and gives him a hug. “He’s at the house.”

“Is he okay?” she whispers into his ear, still in his arms.

“Yeah, he is,” Steve assures, pulling away to look Max in the eye. “He wanted to make sure everything was ready for you. Got your favorite fruits at this local market, made sure to have lots of sunscreen for you to swim. Many brotherly things while he complained about always having to take care of your, his words, scrawny ass.” Max rolls her eyes and flips him off.

“Start the tally, I’ve got one bird in the air so far,” announces Steve. “Dustin, help me with the luggage, will you?” Dustin nods and comes over to Steve, hauling bags into the backseat of the trunk.

“What’s it’s looking like out there? Any drama or panic I need to know about?” Steve asks. Now, normally, he knows it’s not his place. Sure, he’s their babysitter, but he’s also their friend, which he takes just as seriously. If they want to tell him something, they will. But this seems different, somehow. This is his home, his family, his world. They don’t have their usual support systems out here, which could be hard, even if it’s only for a little while.

“A little on the plane because it was louder than Will thought it would be and El didn’t like that there was nowhere else to go, but Mike was able to calm both of them down. Max has been worried about Billy a lot, though. She says he doesn’t usually have good experiences with new places or family members, and this was a lot of both, so…”

“He’s been good. Great, actually. She’ll see, he fits right in here. He even made a friend without fighting them first.”

“I don’t believe you,” Dustin immediately replies. “He doesn’t know the difference between saying hello and punching someone in the arm.” The trunk slams shut and Steve gets into the Taxi with Dustin, Max, and Lucas. The other three are in the car with Nonna and probably learning a whole lot about why Steve is the way that he is.

“Not fair, he only did that once. He really has a friend, though. Her name is Maria and she’s like four or something.”

“Your brothers only other friend here is a four year old,” snickers Lucas. Max elbows him, but there isn’t enough room and Dustin ends up with an elbow in his ribs.

“Jesus, save the fighting for the house, yeah? She might be five. But yes, that and my Nonna. Good thing his besties are all here now, though. Right, Max?” Steve turns around to look at the less-than-thrilled occupants of the backseat.

“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just say that,” deadpans Max.

“I’m just trying to be hip like you cool kids.”

“You can start by not saying hip,” supplies Dustin helpfully. Steve hopes that his death glare shows his appreciation properly.

“Thank you for that, Henderson.”

“Anytime.” For the rest of the car ride, Steve chimes in on the conversations from the front seat whenever he feels like it, but otherwise let’s them do what they want. He’s just happy they’re here and relatively okay.

When they get close to the house, Steve turns around as subtly as he can to watch their reactions. The backseat has gone quiet suddenly, three pairs of eyes drinking in the scenery greedily.

“This is Nonna’s house,” Steve explains quietly, not wanting to interrupt their observations. It’s not often that there isn’t constant chatter between them. “Welcome to your week long home.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” whispers Max. “No fucking way this is a real place.” Steve can’t help but agree. With the sun shining directly above them, the house gleams a brilliant blue, the flowers blooming and preening in the sunlight. The barest glimpse of the lake behind the house is visible, almost blending into the sky.

“Steve, you idiot, why haven’t we been coming here every summer?” Dustin demands. “This is a place that deserves to be shared.”

“It’s not mine to share, for one. And, in case you don’t remember, I had a job last summer that was very demanding.” His response is met with snickers and not-so-secret glances.

“Scoops Ahoy barely counts as a job,” Lucas points out. “Your legal contract said that you could be paid in ice-cream if you wanted. That doesn’t sound like a career to me.”

“The only good thing to come out of that shit was Robin,” Max adds. “And all the ice-cream we got for free from inside sources.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome. I’ll take my thanks in the form of ice-cream payment. I’m thinking of starting a whole new currency.”

“It’s too bad Robin couldn’t be here. Someone needs to keep your ego in check, and none of us can do it as good as her.” For good measure, Max kicks the back of Steve’s seat to get the message across.

“Thanks for that, Max. As much as Robin would love to be here with you idiots, she’s doing that band program thing for college. Showing the incoming freshmen around or something, I don’t really know what they do in band.”

“Start cults,” suggests Lucas.

“No, that’s basketball.” Dustin’s comment starts a whole other mini-argument between Lucas and Dustin about whether or not sports count as a cult. Steve knows whatever he says will be used as “ brainwashed jock propaganda, ” as Dustin puts it, so he’s content to listen for the last few second of the drive before they make it up the driveway.

The car slows to a stop and the kids stumble out, tripping over each other like they’ve never gotten out of a car before. It’s almost endearing. Almost.

The first thing Steve does when he gets out is tip the driver heavily. He turns around and is met with a sight that makes him want to curl into a ball and cry out of pure pride in Billy and Max.

Max must have run towards Billy as soon as he came out of the house, because she’s already up the front door, her luggage abandoned by the car. Everyone except Steve and Lucas is pretending not to watch them, but Steve can’t seem to look away. He assumes Lucas can’t for the same reason.

Billy and Max have come a long way since he got away from Neil. They saw each other less, which meant they had time to take a step back and reflect on all the shitty things that happened to them. Billy could finally breathe safely without constant threat of abuse in his own home, so he cooled down a little, got to place his anger to the side.

They figured out how to heal together, how to relearn what they are to each other. It was-still is-a hard process, one that takes time and a whole lot of effort. But they finally reached where they are now, a sort of “I love you but I don’t know how to show it other than constantly making fun of you” way. Which doesn’t work well when they both obviously just want to reach out and make sure the other is actually there.

Steve is surprised when Billy reaches out and roughly pulls Max into a bear hug. It’s clear that everyone else is just as shocked as he is, but they all look away when Steve catches them staring. He himself looks away too, out of respect. Billy, as touch starved as he’s proved to be, doesn’t let himself get close to people like that. Truthfully, Steve is the only one he knows of that Billy gets near usually, besides occasional arm punches and hair ruffles just to annoy Max. He wishes Billy would allow himself more, but he knows it’s a process, albeit a slow and long one. Pushing Billy at a pace he doesn’t want to go at is one of the last things Steve wants to do.

Billy and Max break off their hug at some point and join the rest of them.

“Fancy seeing you guys here,” Billy drawls, draping an arm around Steve. “Hello, nerds and children my boyfriend has adopted. Welcome to Nonna’s house. Steve and I will not be helping you carry your luggage up the stairs or to your rooms because you’ve stolen him from me all day and I have tales to tell of the grocery store cat lady. Off you go, have fun with that duffel bag that looks like it’s full of bricks, Henderson.” Steve is honestly happy to see that Billy’s back to being his usual rude self after his moment with Max. It would be a lot more concerning if he had said hello, like anyone else would.

“Right, so room assignments: Max and El, you’re together. Boys, you can divide yourselves however you want, I cannot stress how much I don’t care. I would recommend two and two, though, unless you want to all be in the same room. Again, I don’t care at all. Guys, don’t give me those looks, you’re not sharing rooms.”

“You and Billy are sharing,” points out Max. As soon as she realizes what that means, she’s going to regret it, Steve thinks.

“We’re eighteen, legally we can do what we want,” adds Dustin.

“Congratulations. I don’t even know why you care about who shares rooms, Henderson, and I don’t want to get into it either. El, Hopper would literally kill me if he found out you and Mike shared a room here, and I know he would find out cause he has ears and eyes everywhere. And as for Billy and I—actually, I don’t need to explain that to you. It doesn’t matter what Billy and I do because—well—because I say so.”

“You have never been less cool than you are right now,” Mike informs him. “Don’t you want to be cool?”

“I want to be alive. Now go away. And if you think I’m not checking later, you’re probably right because I won’t, but I do want you to think about if it’s worth losing my trust.” Steve looks at them pointedly until they decide it’s not worth it and haul their luggage up the porch and stairs one at a time.

“That was the lamest thing you could of said,” laughs Billy. “Very hot of you, baby.”

“Fuck off,” complains Steve. “You try and get them to do anything without sounding like a mother.”

Billy laughs and kisses Steve’s cheek, drawing him into the kitchen. “What, I said it was hot. I mean it, seeing you give the kids that evil eye that Joyce gives them really gets me going.”

“You’re about to go spend the night on the couch,” warns Steve, but there’s absolutely no way he’s making that threat come true. Billy just keeps grinning and pulling Steve closer. Steve is absolutely and happily helpless to say no.

“Bullshit,” calls Billy. “You’ve only ever made me sleep on the couch once, and that was when I actually did something wrong. I’m pretty sure you’re used to me being an asshole, baby. Don’t pretend it’s not why you love me now.”

Steve hums in agreement and lets Billy maneuver him to where he’s sitting on the counter, Billy in between his legs. “So, tell me about the cat lady. Did she ask you what color cat you were this time?”

“She did. I told her I’m a tabby. Then I told her my boyfriend is one of those squished-face ones with beady eyes with the personality of one that hates everyone.”

“Damn, that’s so sweet of you. You might earn your spot on our bed back if you keep that up,” says Steve dryly.

“Good. I can’t imagine what I would do without you taking up the whole bed.” Steve eyes Billy through slanted lids, accusation on his lips.

“You’re fucking joking. Billy, you’re the most octopus-limbed sleeper I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t hear you complaining at night.”

“That’s because you snore.” For that comment, Billy pinches Steve’s side, right where Billy knows he’s the most ticklish. Steve shrieks and clamps a hand over his mouth, falling back against the counter and hitting his head. This, of course, only makes him laugh harder, causing Billy to join in as well. Every time Steve almost is able to stop, he meets Billy’s eyes and starts up again, the cycle going on and on. Eventually, Nonna comes over to see what’s going on, which just makes them laugh harder. By the time they’ve finally calmed down, the kids have all dropped their luggage off and are downstairs in the living room, pointedly ignore Billy and Steve losing their minds.

“Do you regret letting me invite them yet?” Steve asks, gesturing to the other room.

“Not at all. I always said I wanted a big family,” Nonna explains, rustling around then kitchen for food.

“Why do you think I brought them here? It can’t be that I actually enjoy their company.”

“Oh, silenzio. I know you have dreams of your own family. Someday you’re going to miss them.” Steve ignores the eyebrow raise he gets from Billy, filing it in a “conversations for later” folder in his mind. “Steve, I don’t know why you would ever have to babysit them. These kids are practically angels,” comments Nonna, gesturing to the living room where they’re all playing cards together. Mid-game, Will made up some rules that Steve definitely doesn’t understand, so there’s a lot of general yelling about who’s cards could beat who’s in a fight. Especially because they’re just using regular playing cards.

“I can’t believe you would say that. Betrayal from my own grandmother. Do you know how many times I’ve caught them doing something vaguely illegal or completely life-threatening with absolutely no adult supervision? They are far from angels.”

“Senza senso. You cannot convince me that these children are anything less that perfect.”

“Little shits never get along when we’re at home,” grumbles Steve. “Billy, go start a fight, please.”

“I’m afraid I’m a little past those days, baby. Sorry to disappoint.” Steve sighs exaggeratedly and leans his hands on the counter.

“Go do some of your world class babysitting, Steve. Your boy and I have some cooking to finish up.” Nonna pushes a laughing Steve out of the kitchen while Billy shrugs innocently and blows a kiss at Steve.

“Steve, do you want to play?” asks El as soon as Steve is in sight. “You can be on my time.”

“Sure. As long as none of you try to explain the rules.” At that, Mike and Dustin launch into an explanation that Steve tunes out on instinct.

“Got it?” asks Mike. Steve just nods and sits down on the floor next to El.

Turns out he doesn’t actually need to understand the rules at all. The game, if it can even be called that, is utter chaos. Steve doesn’t know if him and El have 10 points or -127 jewels, or if those cancel each other out. He doesn’t even know how they got jewels or points.

After the fifth consecutive time losing, Steve suggest that they play another game. “Come on, anything else. This game is shit and obviously rigged.”

“You’re just a sore loser,” accuses Mike. He’s completely correct, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that. Luckily, Steve doesn’t have to come up with a response, because Nonna comes in and tells them that it’s time to clean up for dinner.

“Got it. Everyone, go wash your hands. Don’t give me those looks, I’m not letting your sticky kid fingers touch all of my food. Shoo.” Steve sends them off to the different bathrooms downstairs and starts setting the table in the dining room.

They file in one by one, making a show of shoving their hands in Steve’s face to make sure they’re clean enough. He didn’t even ask them to do that, and somehow they all have the same idea and do it anyway, just to spite him.

When they finally take their seats, Lucas says, “You think losing in almost all of your basketball games would make you better at losing.”

“Jesus, you guys don’t let anything go, do you? I thought we finished this conversation.”

“This conversation will never be finished because it’s hilarious and you suck,” explains Mike kindly.

“Are we playing the game where we try to embarrass Steve?” ask Billy, coming to the table with a bowl stacked high with bread. “I love this game.”

“That’s not a game,” insists Steve.

“Oh, we are playing a game? What are the rules?” Nonna comes into the room with the steaming pot of pasta, bringing the aroma of spices and tomato with her.

“I’m so glad you asked.” Dustin gives a brief explanation of the game, which doesn’t take long at all because the only rule is that it has to be as embarrassing as possible. Lovely.

“Oh my god,” groans Steve. “Do we have to do this right now? Why can’t we just do that thing where everyone goes to their own rooms and east in silence.”

“That’s not what families do, topolino . We are eating together and making fun of you together. It’s bonding.”

“I have an idea,” says Billy. Steve doesn’t trust that look in his eyes at all. “Nonna, why don’t you tell the rest of us why your nickname for Steve is topolino . That’s a good place to start, I think.”

Nonna claps her hands together and grins. “Perfect idea. First, everyone get food, and then I will tell you all about little Steve’s childhood obsession.”

“Why did I invite any of you?”

“You didn’t, I did,” says Nonna cheerily. “And I am so glad they are so that I can fill up my table again. Just as you should fill up your plates. Non essere timido.” Billy takes that as his cue and starts filling up his plate, leading the others to follow.

“I believe we were promised a story,” Will reminds Nonna, smiling mischievously.

“Of course. Well, when Steve here was just a little ragazzo, he had quite a strange habit. God knows where it came from, but little Steve always did have a few things about him we never quite figured out. Anyway, one time Steve was staying with me for a while. I think he was around two or three years old, if I’m not mistaken. Well, every night Steve would come up to my room and shake me awake then ask me for some cheese. I have absolutely no idea why, and he never offered an explanation either. He would simply, routinely ask for cheese in the middle of the night. Topolino, his nickname, means little mouse. I’m sure you can figure out the connection there.”

“He still does that, you know,” informs Billy. Steve barely resists the urge to kick him under the table.

“I definitely do not do that, just so we’re all clear.” No one looks convinced by his words. “Billy, tell them I don’t still eat cheese in the middle of the night.”

“Not every night,” Billy says, hiding a smirk underneath his hand. “Only on some occasions.”

“You’re a dick,” Steve complains. “I don’t do that anymore, and I only ever did for like…a few months, but don’t ask me why. I, like the rest of you, have no idea what went on in my younger years.”

“No one did, Steve.” Steve sends a fake glare in Dustin’s direction and changes the topic as quickly as he can.

The rest of dinner passes in a similar fashion, with the line of fire switching from Steve to Billy to then going around the table and telling embarrassing stories about everyone. It’s surprisingly domestic and so easy to be with them like this. Like they’ve been a family all along.

Nonna puts the kids on washing duty and tells all of them goodnight. “Usually I would stay up later and party with you young people, but I’m feeling old today. I’ll see you in the morning whenever you come down. There will be some sort of breakfast. Buonanotte, amori miei.” A chorus of goodnights follow her up the stairs, a tired smile on her weathered face.

Billy takes this as a perfect opportunity to pull Steve outside the the ivy-covered stone courtyard. They sit on the stairs, looking up at the stars above them, Billy a step higher than Steve in order to serve as a backrest. The cold stone soaks through the material of Steve’s sweater, a balm to his tension.

“So how are you really doing? Don’t give me the bullshit you give everyone else.”

“I’m tired,” Steve answers honestly. “I’ve been running around all afternoon making sure everyone is okay. El doesn’t like traveling, for good reason, and Will isn’t great with being so far away with his family, so Mike is trying to help both of them while Max tells Lucas how Ericka is going to steal all his shit, which she might actually do, and Dustin just wants to help everyone else out, so it’s a whole mess.”

“Little shits,” Billy says fondly. “They’re glad to be here, though. You just see the bad parts right now because you’re busy playing mother hen, but it’s going better than you think. I haven’t seen Max smile this much in a while. And El, she’s practically in wonderland with all these new things for her to see. Mike has that sour look of his face, and Will gets to be with his friends for a week straight, which is all he ever wants. Lucas is just happy to be with Max and his friends too, and Dustin still can’t believe you even invited him at all. Baby, you being here alone brings us together.” Billy’s voice is so passionate, so earnest, that Steve can’t help but believe him a little, as much as his doubts don’t want him to.

“Thanks for helping Nonna in the kitchen today. I know she likes having someone beside her. Most of the time she doesn’t nowadays, so it’s nice of you to be there, even if you’re just trying to get away from the noise.” Steve leans against Billy, going lax against him. “Don’t give me that face, I know when they get too much for you. It’s okay, they’re too much for me too sometimes. It’s nice to have a gentle presence like Nonna to reset yourself sometimes. I don’t blame you. And if you think I don’t know when you need to take a break, you’re fucking wrong. Why do you think I told you to help her?”

“Way to smoothly change the conversation, baby. And I didn’t know you could be so subtle about taking care of someone.” Billy runs his hands over Steve’s arms lightly, soothingly.

“I have my gifts,” says Steve. “Really, though. Thanks for sticking with me, crazy attachments and all. Most people don’t stick around their partners when they accidentally adopt six children.” Steve can feel the heartbreak in the way Billy tightens around him.

“You don’t have to thank me for sticking around, it’s not a chore. And, well, unfortunately for you, I’m going to love you forever. At least, until you die tragically and I’m forced to marry a rich person who buys me everything I want and talks to me once a week.”

“Billy, I mean this with the most level of love that I can, but please for the love of god shut the fuck up. You were being nice for like two seconds.”

“I will not,” says Billy happily. “Not until you realize that this isn’t something I take lightly. You got six anxiety prone, incredibly difficult children passports and permission from their also incredibly difficult parents, not that that’s a bad trait for parent to have, to come to your family home. In Italy. That’s not nothing, baby. Give yourself a little credit.”

“It’s just that this isn’t mine to take credit for. You’re the one who was calm and collected while I was practically having a breakdown over convincing Joyce and Hopper. It’s Nonna’s house, not mine, and it’s only because of her that we’re here at all. If anything, I just made things more difficult by cutting out my parents from the middle and losing contact for so long.”

“Hey, Steve, no. That’s not fair to yourself at all. Not a single one of them gives a shit whether or not you had a breakdown setting it up or if your dad was involved. I’m fairly positive, actually, that they’re relieved you didn’t have to deal with him. Everyone here knows what it’s like to have hard times, and them not a single fucking person should ever blame you for letting go of a harmful environment. They kicked you out of the house, so you don’t let them back in your life. And who cares that it’s Nonna’s house? With the amount of dumb shit she tells me you buy for her to put here, it’s basically yours.”

“That was surprisingly coherent,” Steve admits. “And really sweet.”

“Don’t expect it often,” warns Billy, but Steve can’t seem to believe it with the way Billy’s holding him like he won’t ever let go. “Even if this place isn’t yours, we’ll always have our shitty apartment back at home. Sure, the sink runs red sometimes for undisclosed reasons and the shower turns cold randomly, but it’s a place that’s ours. And, unfortunately, at this point, it’s theirs too. Maybe they don’t live there, but where do they go when they want movie nights? Or when someone has a bad day that they don’t feel like talking to their parents about? I’m sure it’s more for you than me, because last time I tried to talk to El I think I scared her more than anything else, but that doesn’t change the fact that wherever we are, they’re going to need you. Baby, look at me.” Billy tilts Steve chin up and backwards so he can look into Billy’s ocean eyes. “Just because they’re growing up doesn’t meant they won’t need you, which I’m pretty sure is the real reason for some of this insecurity. Those kids couldn’t get through 12 hours of us leaving before they texted and asked for help. I know we aren’t the best examples because both of us don’t rely on our parents for shit, but we have Joyce and Hopper who take care of us now. There’s no point in growing up like you don’t need people to help you out. That’s not something you outgrow, and I would know, because I tried. Look how much I failed. Those little shits don’t stand a chance. I’m afraid you’re stuck with them too.”

There’s a familiar tightness in Steve’s throat that he chooses willfully to ignore in favor of sinking further against Billy, if that’s possible.

There are a lot of times when Steve is overwhelmed by the world. Days when it feels like all the gears align perfectly to make him break.

But he never does. Sure, he has setbacks, has moments when he wants to cower under the covers and steal Billy’s day away for him. He has times like when he was younger, where he’s moving backwards and everything else is moving forwards. But why shouldn’t he be able to move backwards sometimes, live in memories of easy days or happy moments?

Steve bends to hard times like a resistant blade of grass, pushed back and forth but never uprooted. If he’s a blade of grass, then Billy is an oak tree protecting him at the right angle to save him from some of the wind and standing strong and unmoved through the ages, growing deeper with time.

Those moments pass as shadows of times like this, though. Moments when the world seems like it belongs to him and the people he loves. When all that he can see and hear are things that give him comfort, make him happy. Like the sound of El’s laughter from the kitchen and Will insisting to a very confused Lucas that the best way to wash the dishes is without soap. There’s the soft light from Nonna’s room, the billowing cotton curtains piercing white against the dark courtyard.

And there’s Billy behind him. Billy, who takes Steve’s burdens on his back without complaint, just shoulders forcefully through navigating the troubled seas of their lives. Billy, who holds Steve close like he is now, in a way that says he’s never going to let go first. Billy, who’s such an asshole ninety percent of the time, but has incredible capability for kindness that’s unrivaled by any other Steve knows.

Billy makes it feel like the world is made for them specially, each stone step and precious laugh. And who knows, maybe it is.

Maybe it can be.

#stranger things #harringrove #harringrove week #july 29 #HarringroveWeek #harringrove comfort fic #steve harrington #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy x steve #steve x billy #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy bby #harringrove fic #harringrove fanfic #harringrove fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #billy hargrove fanfic

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lailoken · 4 years ago

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“Elder (Sambucus nigra), also known as boor or bour tree.

Elder is one of the most enigmatic plants in British folk tradition. On one hand it is feared and associated with WITCHES and on the other it is valued for its protective qualities, as a fly repellent, and for its use in many herbal remedies.

The whole plant hath a narcotic smell; it is not well to sleep under its shade. [Withering, 1776: 186]

[In Leitrim, Waterford and the south of Ireland] the elder or 'bore' tree is believed to have been the tree from which Judas Iscariot hanged himself. The proof of which is the fact that its leaves have an 'ugly smell', and, moreover, that its fruit has since degenerated from its original size and excellent flavour, and become worthless both as to size and taste. [Anon., 1916: 425]

It was said at Beckley that if you burn elder wood you will become bewitched. You never cut it down. In Wootton they say that the elder is a witch tree. You should not mend a wattle hedge with it, as it will give the witches power. If you cut it, it will bleed. [Oxfordshire Women's In- stitute groups, 1950s]

Unlucky to burn Tramman [elder], it is the FAIRIES’ tree. [Lezayre, Isle of Man, c.1975; Manx Folklife Survey]

Normally in the Isle of Man elder is the fairies' tree which is unlucky to cut down, or burn when fallen. I was told in 1992 by a forestry worker of his pleasure that a large elder had blown over into the field adjoining his garden and thus relieved him of the need to find someone willing to remove it. [Union Mills, Isle of Man, October 1993]

Elder flowers—it is alright to pick the flowers for wine or culinary use, but the tree is a friend of witches and the wood should never come into the house. [Ashreigney, Devon, July 1983]

Elder—unlucky to bring either flowers or wood into a house: (a) because it is the witches' tree, (b) because it was believed that Judas Iscariot hanged himself from an elder tree, (c) because if you fall asleep under elder flowers the scent will poison you or you will never wake up. [Driffield, Humber- side, March 1985]

Collecting firewood from the hedges surrounding the cottage and returning happily laden, but being accused of bringing bits of elder into the house—it was considered unlucky to use these to light a fire. [Bow Street, Dyfed, October 1984]

The only unlucky plant which I have heard of is the elder tree, which the old people looked upon as unlucky. As I have heard the old people say, it was unhealthy to have an elder tree growing near the house as it was often noted the inhabitants seemed more prone to TUBERCULOSIS or 'Consumption' as it was known in Ireland in the old days. However, as TB was rampant all over the country at that time, I don't know if the belief would have any significance. My own people however would not cut down an elder bush or burn it no matter how old or rotten it was. Nor allow an elder stick in the house, and it would be an unforgivable act to strike a child or even an animal with one. [Kill Village, Co. Kildare, October 1984]

The family name dies out on the property where the elder grows in the kitchen garden. [Skibbereen, Co. Cork, January 1993]

Do you know the Rollright Stones in Oxfordshire? You can't count them; you never get the same number twice. In the next field there is a big stone called King Arthur, and there are various stones called after his Knights around. There are some elder bushes nearby. We used to go there as children on our bicycles and try to count the stones. We were told that if we picked a flower or a berry from these elderberry bushes we would be turned into stone. We used to dare each other to pick a berry or a flower, but no one ever did. [Mitcham, Surrey, May 1986]

However, in the early part of the nineteenth century:

On Midsummer Eve, when the 'eldern' tree was in blossom, it was a custom for people to come up to the King Stone and stand in a circle. Then the 'eldern' was cut, as it bled 'the King moved his head.' [Evans, 1895: 20]

Sometimes it was thought that wood, berries, or flowers could be safely taken from an elder only if the tree's permission had been sought first.

Hearing one day that a baby in a cottage close to my own was ill, I went across to see what was the matter. Baby appeared right enough, and I said so; but its mother promptly explained. 'It were all along of my maister's thick 'ed; it were in this how: t'rocker cummed off t'cradle, an' he hedn't no more gumption than to mak' a new ’un out on illerwood without axing the Old Lady's leave, an' in coorse she didn't like that, and she came and pinched t'wean that outrageous he were a'most black i' t' face; but I bashed 'un off, an putten an' esh 'un on, an' t'wean is as gallus as owt agin.' This was something quite new to me, and the clue seemed worth following up. So going home I went straight down to my backyard, where old Johnny Holmes was cutting up firewood—‘chopping kindling,' as he would have said. Watching the opportunity, I put a knot of elder-wood in the way and said, 'You are not feared of chopping that are you ?' 'Nay, he replied at once, 'I bain't feared of choppin' him, he bain't wick (alive); but if her were wick I dussn't, not without axin’ the Old Gal's leave, not if it were ever so'.. . (The words to be used are): 'Oh, them's slape enuff.' You just says, 'Owd Gal, give me of thy wood, and Oi will give some of moine, when I graws inter a tree.' [Heanley, 190I: 55]

If you chop an elder tre e or fell it, you should bow three times and say:

Old Woman, Old Woman, Give me some of your wood And when I am dead I'll give you some of mine. [Whitwick, Leicestershire, August 1983]

[Staffordshire, 1930s:] my mother said it was the thing if one wanted blossoms or fruit from an elder tree to say 'Please Mother Elder may I have .. .' [Ponsanooth, Cornwall, November 1993]

In addition to records of elder being inauspicious, there are many rec- ords of it being a beneficial, protective tree.

[In Northumberland] an old man told me that his aunt used to keep a piece of bour tree, or elder, constantly in her kist (chest) to prevent her clothes from malign influence. [Hardy, 1895: 325]

In south Wales it was deemed very dangerous to build any premises on or near the spot where an eldertree stood. In the past an elder planted before the door of a cow-shed or stable protected the cows and horses from witchcraft and sorcery. [Trevelyan, 1909: 103]

[In Scotland elder was] often planted near old crofts and cottages as protection from witches. [Webster, 1978: 342]

[In Guernsey elder] had to be planted as near as possible to the back door, the most used entrance, since it was a sacred tree and a good protection against witchcraft. [McClintock, 1987: 33]

[In Ireland] it is considered lucky to have an elderberry bush grow near your house, especially if it is "self-set'. [Bracknell, Berkshire, August 1984]

Mother used elder leaves to make a pattern on the floor-bricks. Painting around them with red paint. Making the cross with elder leaves. This was an old custom, going back to her grandmother's time, so the custom had to be continued despite the time-consuming nature of the work. [Bow Street, Dyfed, March 1984]

Elder: this was called Boortree... The leaves were boiled and the water used to dose pigs. For this purpose, and because it was supposed to be a protection against LIGHTNING, there was a tree of it at every house. It can still be seen growing in places where there are no houses now, but where houses were years ago. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

Family folklore passed on to me includes . . . one should plant a ROWAN and elder tree and never cut them down, in order to keep witches away. [Parkstone, Dorset, June 1991]

I can remember as a child elder growing around the wooden bottom-of-the-garden 'lavvy' at my uncle's farm near Brentwood, Essex, and many other similar loos with elder adjacent. I was told that the elder would live 'almost for ever', as if one root died off another would spring from a fallen branch or twig. They were treated with 'respect' as they kept away bad magic—no one used the word 'witches'—but the inference was there. [Yafforth, North Yorkshire, January 1990]

More usually elder trees were planted around toilets and other build ings to deter FLIES.

Elder bushes are invariably to be seen outside the dairy windows on the north side of old-fashioned farmhouses in the Midlands. This was done because elder-leaves are supposed to be very objectionable to flies, wasps and other insects, the tree thus provided both shade and protection. For the same reason a switch of elder with leaves on is used when taking or driving a swarm of bees. [N &Q, 11 ser. 12: 489, 1915]

When inspecting a slaughter house [in Cornwall] a summer or two ago, I commented on the absence of flies, and was told that this was due to a large elder bush growing some feet away and that branches of elder in any building would keep flies away. [Peter, 1915: 123]

An elderberry tree was always grown near the house—I think it was to keep flies away. [Didcot, Oxfordshire, February 1991]

According to some friends of mine elderberry bushes were planted by water butts and outside privies so that the smell would keep the flies away. [Horseheath, Cambridgeshire, April 1991]

As a youth my late father worked on the land...Often handling horses it was common practice to tie bunches of elder leaves to the harness to ward off flies. [St Osyth, Essex, February 1989]

My wife, who comes from Northumberland, tells me that her mother used to make up a concoction with elder flower when she was a child. All the family washed their faces in it to keep virulent Northumbrian midges at bay. She remembers it smelling not too pleasant, and tended to keep other children away as well, so she would take the first opportunity to wash it off! [Hexham, Northumberland, June 1988]

About twelve years ago in Girton, Cambridge, a small swarm of bees (apparently known as a 'cast') settled on a plum tree in our garden, about six feet up. A neighbour, Mr C. G. Puck (now 84 years old), a retired shepherd and lifelong beekeeper, came to collect the bees. He removed the queen bee from the swarm and placed her under a small open wooden box inverted on the ground under the tree. He then asked for a sprig of elder and laid this about nine inches above the swarm, saying that the smell of it was disliked by bees, and by the early evening all the bees had moved into the box . . . He had learned of the use of elder in this fashion from his beekeeper father, in his native village of Thriplow, south Cambridgeshire. [Girton, Cambridge, May 1988]

On the Isle of Man:

Each old cottage has a 'trammon', or elderberry tree, outside the door. This is used by the 'Phynodderree' to swing in. He is a kind of faun who can bring much luck, and even helps materially in outside work. [Daily News, 27 January 1926]

[Fairies] liked most of all to swing and play in the elder trees, and these were always thought of as fairy trees in the Isle of Man. There wasn't a house or farm that didn't have its 'tramman' tree planted by the door or in the garden 'for the fairies'. Many of them are still to be seen; the single tree will soon have grown into a thicket, hiding the old ruined house, but a sure sign that a house once stood there . . . When the wind was blowing the branches, it was then that the fairies were believed to be riding the tramman trees, but it was said that they would desert a house or a farm where the trees had been cut down. This must have happened only very rarely: no-one would cut a branch of the tramman, let alone the tree itself, but if it was done the fairies grieved. [Killip, 1975: 35]

Regardless of whether elder is considered to be malevolent or protec- tive, most of the folk beliefs associated with the tree appear to be con- cerned with its protection and preservation. Two quotations from herbalists writing in the 1940s demonstrate the value of the elder tree.

[According to my [g*psy] friend] the healingest tree that on earth do grow be the elder, them sez, and take it all round I should say 'twas. [Quelch, 1941: 78]

[Elder has] the unusual distinction of being useful in every part. [Ransom, 1949: 55]

Thus it is possible that the various folk beliefs associated with elder were due, at least in part, to efforts to protect a valuable resource.

The period when elder flowered was sometimes considered to be a time when the weather was poor. In the Basingstoke area of Hampshire this time was known as the elderbloom winter [Maida Hill, Lon- don, December 1982], while in Cheshire:

Weather prophets say that if the weather breaks while the elder-flowers are coming out, it will be soaking wet (in Cheshire parlance, drabbly) until they fade. [Hole, 1937: 49]

Francis Bacon (1561–1626) recorded: 'They say' WARTS can be removed by rubbing them 'with a Green Elder Sticke and then bury- ing the Sticke to rot in Mucke' [Bacon, 1631: 258]. Similarly:

A 15-year-old girl, writing in 1954, says that her grandfather told her to pick a small twig of elderberry, touch her warts with it, chant the words, “Wart, wart, on my knee, Please go, one, two, three” and put it 'down the toilet'. [Opie, 1959: 315]

Elder is, perhaps, the wild plant most widely used in folk medicine.

Queen of all Forest [of Dean] remedies was 'ellum blow tea'...The flowers were gathered in the spring and hung up to dry in closed paper bags ... in the kitchen ... You dared not sneeze in the winter or down came the bag, a good handful was put in a jug, covered with boiling water, covered with a tea towel, and left to infuse. One had to force this evil-smelling brew down one's throat willy-nilly. I loathed it, and to this day can recall that smell of cats which emanated from it. Poultices of the mixture were used for SPRAINS, aches, etc., in joints, also for boils and 'gathered' fingers—whitlows and so on. It seemed to be a universal panacea; the only use it didn't have was for constipation . . . Elder berries were favoured too; they were boiled up with sugar, the resulting syrup strained, bottled, and used in winter for coughs and colds . . .There is not a Forester alive over the age of 70 who does not know ellum blow tea. [Cinder- ford, Gloucestershire, November 1993]

Elder berries when fried with mutton fat are used for BOILS and ULCERS. [IFCSS MSS 414: 43, Co. Clare]

Elder root when boiled and the water drank supposed to cure RHEUMAT- ISM. [IFCSS MSS 700: 35, Co. Meath]

An infusion of elder flowers in boiling water will alleviate PILES. [Horsted Keynes, West Sussex, February 1991]

A green ointment could be made from the leaves, based on mutton fat, and the creamy white flowers made Elderflower Water for the complexion. The flowers, dried in the sun and stored in a paper bag make a good remedy to break a hard COUGH and bring up phlegm. I always pick and dry some when they are in bloom, put the full of your fingers (one hand) in a mug, pour boiling water over and let it infuse for ten minutes. A little milk or fruit juice can be added. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

For flus and FEVERS

40 oz whiskey bottle. Pick, clean, weigh, one pound ripe elder berries. Delete the strings (most strings anyway) using a fork, and put berries into empty bottle. Add 4 lb sugar. Top up with a bottle (or most of a bottle) of whiskey. Seal well. Store for 3 months and strain. Use strongest spirit. Dose—Strong glass of this 'Elderfire'—add hot water (as hot as possible) and drink. Take 2 or 3 spoons of honey with drink. Repeat each night (or more frequently)–usually two nights is sufficient to clear the flu/fever results guaranteed. [Killarney, Co. Kerry, September 1991]

[My mother, who was 94 when she died in 1987] used to collect elder-flower in the spring, and dried it. In the winter if we had colds or flu, the elderflower was put in a jug covered with boiling water and put on the hob to stew. At night we were given this (strained) with sugar and a few drops of peppermint oil added. We were given a teacup full of this at night, and in the morning we had to drink half a cupful of this cold mixture. It was supposed to sweat out the fever. She used to tell me how she pulled me through PNEUMONIA by poulticing with hot flannel and sips of elderflower tea, day and night. [Hill, Worcestershire, October 1991]

When my three children were small and we had wintery weather (and it can be very cold up here at the foot of the Cairngorms), I made elder-flower wine, and when it was time for them coming from school I had three cups, bowl of sugar, bottle of elderflower wine and the kettle boiling, and I gave them a tody; they never had colds or flu. [Boat-of-Garten, Inverness-shire, November 1991]

Elder flowers and berries are widely collected by makers of homemade wines. The flowers can also be used in cooking [Ó’Ceirin, 1980: o1), and the fruits have been recommended as a substitute for currants [Ransom, 1949: 55]. Elder leaves have been used as a TOBACCO substitute.

Myself, my brother and a friend always smoked elder leaves when money was not available for tailor-made cigarettes. We spent much time in the woodland of Thetford Chase, where on our regular walks we would break down, but not completely snap off, small sprigs of the elder. We found that if we severed the supply of sap completely the leaves on the sprig would dry out resulting in a hot strong smoke. We found that if the leaves remained just slightly damp they were a quite pleasant smoke. It was obviously trial and error, sometimes they remained too wet to burn properly. We would stuff the leaves very lightly into the stems of various umbellifers...We actually prefered these cigarettes to the tailor-made, but they were not available during winter. [West Stow, Suffolk, November 1992]

Elder wood is characterized by its pith, which can be easily removed.

[On Colonsay] boys aspiring to be pipers made chanters of the young branches [of elder], which are full of pith and easily bored. [McNeill, 1910: 130].

Haw-blowers are made by scooping the pith out of an elder branch. Haws are blown through these. [IFCSS MSS 700: 338, Co. Meath]

The people of the parish were able to make toy guns. They got an elder stick about one and a half feet long and scraped out the inside. Then they got a stick about the same length and made it fit into the hole and then the gun was made. [IFCSS MSS 867: 132, Co. Kilkenny]

At the the beginning of the century children in parts of Devon used to make pop-guns' out of elder: they would force a hole through the pith, and then fashion a ram-rod out of HAZEL WOOD. Chewed paper would be rammed down the hollowed elder sticks, and pressed out with considerable force. Great sport ensued. [Lafonte, 1984: 35]

There was another use for the Boor tree in olden times. A suitable length was cut and seasoned, then the white pith in the centre was scraped out, lead was then melted and poured in. When set, this made a good weapon for protection on a journey or out walking at night...My aunt who was born in 1894 remembered one man who had such a stick. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

[In Horsefield, Cambridgeshire] for winter feeding one beekeeper used to make little troughs out of elder wood; he cut pieces about the thickness of a finger and five or six inches long, tapered off one end and removed the pith, and used them for replenishing the bees' honey by inserting this end in the exit hole. [Parsons MSS, 1952]”

—

Oxford Dictionary of Plant-Lore

by Roy Vickery

#elder #elder tree #elderberry #elder mother #plant lore #herbcraft #folklore #Roy Vickery #Oxford Dictionary of Plant-Lore

106 notes · View notes

natromanxoff · 4 years ago

Text

An Exclusive Interview With Queen!

Music Life September 1975 issue

By Kaoruko Togo and Keiko Miyasaka

[Original text in Japanese, translation by deathtoming]

Around noon on July 14th, we left the hotel by car, and around two hours later we arrived at the beautiful Ridge Farm, surrounded by trees. We were blessed with clear skies on this day, and the blue sky and the greenery of the farm were almost blindingly beautiful. It was a bit past 2 o’clock. When we arrived in the main building, we were first greeted by a large dog, followed by a familiar voice from a room in the back. It was a large food hall, with Freddie, Brian, Roger, and John present.

When they see us, the four of them say, “Hello! You’re from Music Life, right? Welcome!” and greet us with handshakes. The four of them rented this Ridge Farm to focus solely on rehearsing for their next album. “We’re about to have lunch. Want to join us?” We knew we couldn’t work while hungry, so we accepted their offer with thanks. When the meal finished, we could begin our interview at last….

Music Life (ML): Are you in the middle of recording now?

Roger: No, we’re not recording yet. We’re all practising our new songs together. Once we practise them, we get an idea of how we should record them, I think.

ML: When do you think you’ll start recording?

Roger Maybe in about 3 weeks…

John: We might use Rockfield Studios in Wales.

ML: Do you always record there?

Roger: No, not really, although we did a bit of recording there for our third album, Sheer Heart Attack.

Freddie. We used around five studios to record that one. We’ll probably use several studios this time around, too.

ML: You’ll do a bit of recording in London, too, right?

Roger: Probably a little bit, yeah. We usually do our mixing in London.

Brian: But when we first record the backing track, it’s better to do it somewhere where we’re nice and settled, so it’s good to do it while we’re holed out in the studio. By doing that, we’re able to relax and do the recording.

ML: Can you tell us something about your upcoming album?

Freddie: Yeah, well we only have the rough framework at this point, but I think it will be our best work so far. We’re in the middle of creating the songs now.

Roger: Nothing has really come together yet, so it’s difficult to explain.

John: When we first came here we presented what songs we had written so far to each other, and we had about two albums’ worth, haha.

ML: I hear you’re heading to the US on tour soon.

John: Probably. Our manager is in the US now, and he’s apparently in talks with a bunch of people.

Freddie: We have to decide whether to record the album or go on tour in the US like we had decided during our previous tour.

ML: How long have you been working with your producer?

Freddie: His name is Roy Thomas Baker, and he’s been with us since our debut album.

Roger: We’re co-producing the album with him. Our next album will be with him, too.

ML: This Ridge Farm is such a beautiful place. How did you find it?

Roger: Our mixer, John Harris, found it. The owner often rents out this place to rock groups, apparently.

ML: When you write your songs, do you do it individually?

Freddie: Yes, that’s right. Everyone writes their own songs in their own homes, and then brings it to places like this and we all work on it.

ML: How many songs will be on this album?

Freddie: I don’t know yet. Maybe around 12.

ML: When will it be released?

Freddie: That depends on a lot of things. But I want it out some time this year. It will probably be by the end of this year.

ML: What have you been up to since you came back from Japan?

Freddie: For several weeks, we kept on talking about our time in Japan, haha. We’d unwrap the presents we got from Japan. Please pass along our thanks to our fans in Japan, because we were really treated so kindly.

ML: Is there anything that stands out in particular from your time in Japan?

Roger: Aside from the people we met, probably our final show in Tokyo. Something felt special. It was also our final show in Japan. The atmosphere was wonderful.

John: I also remember appearing in a kimono on stage for the first time in that concert.

ML: What about Japanese food?

Freddie: Like, tempura, haha. We went to a Japanese restaurant with our bodyguards in Japan. Oh that’s right, please send our regards to those bodyguards; we owe them a lot.

ML: What do you want to do the most the next time you’re in Japan?

Roger: I’m going to go shopping for sure, haha! Things like tape recorders and other things. Last time, Freddie bought lots of ceramics, and Brian and John bought cameras.

ML: Brian, you like cameras, don’t you?

Brian: Yeah, I do photography sometimes, and I have lots of other hobbies. Right now I’m really into audio.

ML: Since when have you been taking pictures?

Brian: Since quite a long time ago. But I only recently got a good camera. In England, cameras are so expensive.

ML: This is especially the case in Japan, but you have a lot of young girls for fans. What do you think about that?

Roger: It’s outstanding, haha! Japanese fans in particular give us lots of presents. We don’t get too many gifts from other countries, but it seems to be a part of the Japanese tradition.

ML: Among your young, female Japanese fans, there are some who say that Queen is their first encounter with rock music.

Roger: Great!

Freddie: That’s a good thing. It was really exciting when we were in Japan, and I think it was probably the same kind of atmosphere as it was for the Beatles in the ‘60s.

ML: Were there any interesting gifts from Japan?

Brian: I received a lot of birthday gifts, so thank you very much to all of you for those presents. I received many works of art, and also things like dolls and traditional balls wrapped with beautiful string. We got lots of toys, too.

Roger: That ball with the string was hand-made, right? I got one, too.

ML: In your free time, what kind of music do you listen to?

Roger: I’ve been listening to Led Zeppelin's first album.

Freddie: Lately, classical. Like, Chopin. Also things like Led Zeppelin and John Lennon.

ML: Freddie, you have a broad range of interests.

Freddie: Of course. I’ll listen to anything that I like. That said, there’s no artist whose album I’d buy as soon as it was released.

ML: Brian, what about you?

Brian: Pretty much the same as everyone else. I often listen to Led Zeppelin.

ML: There’s a place called “Rhye” in the lyrics for Lily of the Valley, but is that a real place in England?

Freddie: No, it’s a land from my imagination. It’s also mentioned in Seven Seas of Rhye, and I guess it’s like a fairy tale.

Roger: There is a place called “Rye” in England, although the spelling is different.

ML: Your songs’ lyrics seem to be influenced by classical poets.

Freddie: You’re referring to lyric poetry. I don’t think we’re influenced by that too much. Truthfully, I don’t have time to read. I just like expressing myself in that way. Those kinds of expressions are easier.

ML: Do the really passionate lyrics for love songs come from your personal experiences?

Roger: Ahhhh--!! Haha, yeah right! But I guess there’s, uh, a little bit of something in there.<Grinning> But Brian sometimes writes really passionate ones.

ML: She Makes Me is quite the song, isn’t it?

Brian: No, it’s not like that at all. <Acting quite bashfully> Although there are times when my personal experiences are expressed in song lyrics.

ML: The band does a good job recreating the sound from your records live on stage, don’t you?

Roger: We’re not trying to reproduce what you hear on the record exactly, though. Of course we want to produce a good sound, but on stage we also need to add an exciting mood to the quality of the sound. So that’s why it needs to be a little different from the album.

ML: Which do you like better, recording or performing live?

Freddie: I like both. They’re both interesting in their own ways.

ML: Do you use any special equipment on stage?

Roger: No, although Brian uses echo machines and such.

ML: Do you have a lighting technician?

Freddie: We do have one, but the band comes up with the idea, and our lighting guy -- his name is James Dann -- takes care of the rest. We’ve already come up with our next stage design and it’s going to be interesting.

ML: Killer Queen was a big hit single; are hit singles important to you?

Roger: It’s not absolutely necessary. But we’ll keep on releasing singles. Of course we’ll only release ones we like, though.

ML: Which do you like better, singles or albums?

Freddie: Definitely albums! I think our music is geared more towards albums rather than singles.

Roger: Rather than releasing single after single, it’s better if there happens to be a song in the album that works well as a single, and we release it if the timing is right. It’s not good if we start thinking we need to release a single every 3 months.

John: On this upcoming album as well, we will record everything first, and then release something if it works well as a single. But we don’t particularly record only songs that would work as singles.

ML: Does it seem like you’ll have another song like Killer Queen?

Freddie: No, when Seven Seas of Rhye became a hit in England, the people at the record company wanted our next song to be like that, but we couldn’t do it. We go in the studio and record what we’re feeling at that time, and only after everything is finished do we decide as a group what to release as a single.

ML: So, you’re always looking for a new sound?

Freddie: It’s more interesting that way.

Roger: That’s why we come to places like this, and while we’re rehearsing we make a bunch of noise and form songs from that.

ML: Did someone serve as an inspiration for Killer Queen?

Roger: Freddie’s mom.

ML: Do you have plans for a British tour?

Roger: Yeah. Probably by the end of this year.

John: But first we need to record our album, and we don’t know what will come after.

ML: Which country’s fans do you like?

John: Japan’s, of course, haha!

Brian: <Speaking seriously> We were really surprised by the reaction of our Japanese fans. Honestly speaking, we didn’t realize it was at that level.

Roger: We thought there would be difficulties because of the language difference, but rock fans are the same around the world, in the end.

ML: Did you have a break after you came back from Japan?

John: Just a little. But we had lots of preparation to do, so it’s like we didn’t have a break.

ML: And uhh… now I’d like to ask about things outside of the music. It’s something Japanese fans want to know: when did you fall in love for the first time? What kind of person were they?

Freddie: Err… our first love is, of course, music, haha.

ML: Do you have any memories from when you were going to school?

Roger: I haaaaated school!

ML: What about you, Brian?

Brian: I went to an all boys school. I had no idea what girls were like, right up to when I graduated when I was 18. It was really a shock when I first got to know girls. But that’s the British school system for you. I was raised away from girls for so long that I was afraid to meet them.

Freddie: You’re still afraid of them, aren’t you? Haha. <This was a tough joke>

ML: Freddie, what subjects did you like in school?

Roger Oh, I know! ”Needlework”! <Everyone bursts out laughing>

Freddie: Art. I studied graphics and illustration at an art school for 3 years.

ML: What about sports?

Freddie: I did everything. Cricket, tennis…

ML: Do you still meet up with your friends from school?

Freddie: I often meet with around two of them.

ML: And, finally, are you married?

Roger: Japanese fans often want to know things like that, but I won’t say. <Roger winks mischievously.>

Freddie: We’re all single! But the Japanese girls have to find that out for themselves.

ML: Let’s get a message from each one of you to our readers…

And with that, the friendly interview came to an end. We were fortunate that the band talked to us in a relaxed mood while bathing in the bright sun.

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon

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thweaty · 4 years ago

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tomdaya tea ☕️

ok i have to submit this because it’s just TEW much to explain otherwise. like i said i stan them both so i been here for it all and know ALL the tea. i’ll give you the rundown of their relationship and then the drama that went down when she was dating jacob. there’s a whole tumblr timeline spanning years you can google if you’re interested in seeing it in detail but i’ll give you the basics. this is going to be a literal dissertation sorry in advance but i feel responsible for letting the general public know about the tomdaya agenda since i know so much

so they started dating in like aug/sept 2016 right after they finished filming homecoming. he went to canada right after to film another movie and during the course of filming she went to visit him and he flew to la to visit her, this is when people started getting sus. when he finished filming this movie he made an ig story about how he was going home to london to be with his family and spend the holidays with them, except he lied because he flew to la to see z and spend thanksgiving with her and her family lmao (he actually spent thanksgiving with her family 3 years in a row 2016-2018….more on that later tho 👀) her cousin exposed them when he posted a video on thanksgiving at her house and you could see her and tom cuddling on the couch. so everyone was like they’re 100% dating. like i said he was always flying to see her, he was going to workout classes with her mom and shit, he always stayed at her house in la (there’s multiple sets of photos of him outside her house with luggage). another thing that convinced people was sometime in early 2017 she made a whole snapchat story about how she was super sick and overworked and then after that accidentally posted a snap to her story that said “your sick girlfriend really loves you”. she deleted it quickly because it was obviously an accident and wasn’t meant to be public but people got screenshots. tom was also in nyc visiting z when she was filming the greatest showman and told a fan he met that he was in town visiting his girlfriend because he dumb.

so at this point we KNOW they’re dating. zendaya is notorious for being extremely private with relationships, the guy she dated before tom she was with for 4 years and called him her best friend all along. she didn’t admit they actually had dated until after they broke up bc he cheated on her. so her being so private with tom and hiding it was expected. all this same shit goes on for the next nearly three years, they’re doing long distance but he flies to see her at least once a month sometimes more, they spend time with each others families, visit each other on set, etc.

so this is where it gets interesting. tom is photographed on the euphoria set during a night shoot in like early may 2019. this is apparently right around the time they break up. tom’s best friend tuwaine was dating this girl audrey and when they broke up she started spilling tea on tomdaya (tom unfollowed her after this so it was def true). she said they broke up in may because they were fighting more due to long distance AND tom was tired of being so private, he didn’t want to be public but was over being so secretive and wanted to be a little more lax but she wasn’t comfortable with that. they decided to stay friends. the far from home press tour was in june and they were clearly still super close friends, nobody could even tell they were broken up cause they were so chummy (looking back now it’s more obvious cause tom was saying shit about his love life being a disappointment and stuff). they go their separate ways after the premiere but stay friends and continue to interact on social media, even months after the breakup tom met a girl at a con dressed like mj and asked if he could take a photo with her to send to zendaya so they were def still talking and stuff

fast forward to feb 2020. z is dating jacob and they’re being papped like every single day in nyc. pictures come out of them kissing out in the open in nyc. as a fan of z this was VERY weird to me because she’s always so private, but i was like maybe she’s trying something new because being so private caused the downfall with tom. BUT then she started DMing her fan accounts on twitter and ig asking them to take the kissing photos down (so idk what happened, she had to knew they were being papped but maybe she had second thoughts and regretted it)…. her fan accounts do delete the photos, but it’s too late. everyone has already seen them including tom, who is in the middle of a self-proclaimed instagram break. the day after the kissing photos came out, he goes back on ig and unfollowed two of z’s best friends, one being her assistant and basically brother darnell who tom was also good friends with. he posts a photo on his story of him drinking and puts emojis over his eyes and said something like “back for a minute, now i’m gone again.” he was going through it lmao so he literally went onto ig to be petty and unfollow people close to z because he was mad she was kissing her bf of a few months in public when they were together for nearly three years. and obviously he couldn’t unfollow her so he did the next best thing, and fans obviously took notice. a week later he followed darnell back cause i guess he realized how bad it looked but the damage was already done. tom and z from then on do not interact or acknowledge each other for the next SIX MONTHS. idk if they fought or if she was mad he unfollowed darnell or what. but it was MESSY.

a month later tom starts dating this girl nadia, she moves into his house a few weeks into dating for quarantine. they date throughout those lockdown months. z breaks up with jacob sometime in june. she gets nominated for the emmy at the end of july, and days after she gets nominated her and tom start liking all of each others photos again. the assumption is he reached out to congratulate her and they made up. a few days after they start interacting again, tom posts a photo of his girlfriend on ig, and z likes it. tom and nadia break up like a week later 💀 he was filming uncharted in berlin at this point, him and z continue to interact, he finishes uncharted and flies right to atlanta to start filming spider-man. they’re still in atlanta now and we know they hang out all the time, but a lot of people think they’re back together because they’ve done some very 👀 things. her mom came to atlanta for thanksgiving and you guessed it… tom spent it with them (which we only know cause the celeb chef who cooked for them posted on his story that he made thanksgiving dinner for zendaya and tom holland. he then deleted and deactivated cause he realized he fucked up lmao). they started interacting with each other’s families and friends again. hunter (jules from euphoria) who is z’s best friend drove to atlanta to see her and her and tom followed each other. tom is very selective of who he follows and doesn’t even follow a lot of his costars so people were shook by this, especially because him and hunter met multiple times before but never followed each other. i have no idea if they’re back together, at the very least they’re good friends again, but i wouldn’t be surprised at all if they were. we’ll see what happens when they finish filming 👀👀👀 lmk your thoughts, questions, concerns etc.

bitch my fave part was zendaya liking that pic and tom and his gf breaking up a week later 😭😭

#my GOD #submission #i kno this is a controversial topic but i love the drama SKNDF #thank u anon >:)

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lupismaris · 3 years ago

Note

sorry you’re feeling so crappy 😔 i hope you feel better soon!!

if you’re feeling up to it, maybe silverflinthamiltons on a lake or beach vacation?

SILVERFLINTHAM LAKESIDE HOLIDAY PART 1 with a surprise! and another segment to follow because this is them arriving to the lake!

(this got long so most of it will be under the cut.)

***

It was summer.

Summer meant blistering asphalt and bags of trash stewing on the curb each morning. Hazy sunlight blinding the street, dark cavernous pockets of shade where the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees, but the air stayed stale and suffocating all the same. It meant too many people and too much noise and parties in the park that never seemed to end, one just replacing another in an endless cycle of hedonism, and bottles of chilled wine and cheap beer sweating on the fountain walls. It meant long dinners and longer lunches, ice cream trucks and Italian ice carts on opposite corners of the street carrying on an old world rivalry. It meant golds and blues and lush greens wherever your eyes happened to fall, be it on a back alley garden or storefront window display.

Silver loved summer.

He loved the warmth and the sprawling picnics and the baring of skin and the feral energy of a child free from school amplified to suit a city of millions and the heady summer storms that shook the glittering skyline in a kind of holy cleanse. He loved the summer fruits and the sweet aperitifs and the old school white linen shirts and open fire hydrants flooding the streets and the neon lights reflecting in the puddles left behind, still evaporating in the hot night, giving the whole world an ethereal glow.

Though he had to admit it was always better spent on a beach with a frosted drink and not a goddamn thing to do. But, if a beach couldn’t be procured, a big, cool, well air conditioned house that was paid for by someone else was an excellent alternative. His sister’s condo in Chelsea for instance was an excellent place to waste away a summer on parties and sun bathing and a private pool that no one else seemed to have the time to use. He had spent several summers with Max that way, even once the Rangers had become part of the picture, if Silver was on the east coast for the summer, he would drop in and waste away a while.

Now though, it looked like summers were going to be spent in Brooklyn, in the big cool townhouse that Thomas had paid for, with the truly miraculously internal air con that was always kept at a balmy 65 degrees from May to October, and with very little to do outside of whatever suited his fancy on any given day. Oh and sex, a lot of sex. This would be the first summer in a very long time where he could not only allow himself a libido, but he could also satiate it.

Silver was thoroughly content with the new circumstances.

He was less content however, with how the summer months, or maybe just the summer months in the city, seemed to bring out the worst in people as frequently as it did the best.

Flint, for example, did not handle summers as well as Silver did. In part it was due to the heat and the sun and the weird smells coming off the steamy side walks, and Silver understood Flint’s frustration with all that, he truly did. But summer also meant more tourists and more people going out for a good time, more people starting brawls in bars and fights in the street and parties spilling over from one bar to the next, or worse packs of bigots making the rounds and harassing whomever they find, everything the working class service folks of the city dreaded- in short, Flint’s stress levels seemed to just rise with the temperature. And considering an average day in July might easily crack 100, Silver was starting to get a tad worried.

“Is it like this every summer?” Silver had asked one Friday morning in June.

The kitchen was soft with the morning sunlight, Thomas in his silk night shirt and robe as he perused the menu for the cafe on the corner, Silver fixing them each an espresso.

“To a point yes. You know how James is about control,” Thomas said with a fond smile, “when he’s at his best he can combat every threat to his sovereignty without so much as flinching. But the summer gets to him, makes him a bit of a wolf in a cage, so to speak.”

“Was he worse in Manhattan?” the buildings sometimes reminded Silver of a cell block, the slivers of sunlight cutting through as hot as cattle prods.

“Much. Hal has tried talking him into not working as much in the summer, but you know how he is, can’t be told anything once he’s got his mind made up. Not to mention he’s never been good at simply existing. There always has to be purpose in it, work to be done, fields to plow and what not.”

Silver huffed a laugh and brought Thomas’ espresso over, feeling a sense of warmth at the notion that he and Thomas were able to share this, to share flint and all his eccentricities.

“I’m sure a man as clever as you thought of some way to keep his blood pressure down, hm?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. Thomas took the espresso cup without looking away from the menu. He set it aside and pulled Silver in, kissing him sweetly in thanks. Ah, that was also a nice thing to share with Thomas, Silver reminded himself.

“Oh I came up with a few ideas, pet. How about we order breakfast, and I’ll tell you about them.”

By Friday, the three of them were packed into Flint’s old Range Rover heading upstate for two weeks of holiday bliss. It had taken multiple phone calls to Gates to make sure the bar would in fact be alright while Flint was gone and to make sure he barred Flint from being within a dozen yards of The Walrus once it closed on Thursday night. It had also taken coaxing, convincing, bartering, and eventually outright bribery with sex to get Flint to stop scowling about the idea of being away from his “ship” for longer than a weekend. There had been other phone calls as well, placed by Thomas in the early hours of the morning when he thought he was the only one awake. When asked about them he just waved the questions away with a mild, “oh just a little extra surprise for James thats all” and Silver did his best to trust him.

It was a five hour drive from the house in Brooklyn to the house on Lake Cayuga that Thomas had purchased during his recovery, to he and Flint would have a quiet place to heal and make up for lost time without the strain of the city grating on them. Silver had never been upstate, his various clients had always preferred houses in the Hamptons, but from the photos it was a cozy little cottage style house right on the shore, a couple bedrooms, an airy kitchen, lush garden, and a private pier that stretched out into the lake. There was also apparently a boat, a little hybrid sailboat of polished wood and deep blue paint, the name Ariel written in careful golden script. Silver wanted to ask whether Flint had bought it or built it, because he was the kind of high strung man to just build a boat from scratch instead of buying one or scheduling extra therapy. But the scowl on his face as they tucked the suitcases into the trunk told him it wasn’t worth the teasing. Not yet anyway.

Flint insisted on driving the whole five hours himself, scowling silently behind the wheel as he drove them through miles of lush farmland, leaving Thomas and Silver to chat about what they might do once they get settled in. There was plenty of hiking, though Thomas was worried the gorges might be tricky for Silver’s regular prosthetic, ample water falls and countless parks to explore. Lots of quaint small towns with seafood shacks and local fare and more wineries than even Thomas knew what to do with. And of course, most importantly, there was the lake.

Flint kept his silence till the last hour of the ride, the scowl firmly set on his jaw. Silver and Thomas had switched seats so Thomas could stretch out and nap in the back seats, leaving Silver to try and coax a smile out of his partner. Not that he had to do much. As the car climbed yet another rolling hill, Silver watched the horizon, his hand in Flint’s, trying to figure out whether the deep blue streak that had suddenly appeared was a dark patch of sky.

It wasn’t, for the record.

Silver frowned and turned to Flint, planning to ask if it was the lake and exactly how big was said lake- but the question died well before he could even open his mouth.

The scowl was gone, dropped from Flint’s face and replaced by the softest look of wonder Silver had ever seen on the man, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, making his mustache twitch. It was as if something had hooked its line into Flint’s chest and was slowly reeling him in, his whole body sitting straighter, the tension in his shoulders bleeding out until he was leaning into the steering wheel. His hand even held tighter to Silver’s, an unconscious need to keep himself tethered maybe, or to keep Silver close.

“Is that the lake?” Silver managed to ask with a soft smile of his own.

“Yeah. We’ll be at the cabin in half an hour.”

They got there in twenty minutes, not that anyone was actually counting.

The lake stretched out before them, a sea of deep blues and aquamarines, glittering with the hot late June sunlight that danced across it’s surface. It’s shores were patched with wildflowers and thick thatches of wood, little clusters of cabins and boat houses, who’s owners were out skipping across the surface like dragon flies on their small boats and kayaks. The afternoon air was hazy and sweet, the whole scene a postcard from the mythical summers of memory that everyone aspired to, bird song and the low hum of the radio escorting them along the final stretch of route 90. Flint pulled them down a narrow side road, passing a few comfortably sized homes with ample space between them, until they reached the dead end of the street, and the little cottage Silver had seen in the photos, with the shadow of the pier dark across the water, and the Ariel waiting like a loyal dog in her berth.

“Oh good,” Thomas said with a yawn, finally pulling himself back into a sitting position and stretching, as Flint pulled the car into the drive alongside what looked like a rental car. “I was starting to think we were lost.”

Silver looked back at him, ready to tease about old men and naps, but Thomas was looking down at his phone, his fingers quickly switching on the stop watch. “Thomas what-”

The range rover lurched to a sudden stop as Flint hit the brakes and Silver had to cling to the seat to keep himself upright. Thomas seemed completely unfazed, draped across the back seat in his half buttoned linen shirt and designer sunglasses, watching with an air of fond expectation as Flint threw on the parking brake and booked it from the car, leaving the engine running.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Silver asked.

Thomas laughed and reached around the driver’s seat to shut the car off. “Exactly what I expected him to do, though I’ll admit I expected him to at least properly stop the car first.”

“What? Thomas- oh my god he’s going in the lake?” Silver asked, watching as Flint cleared the back fence and striped off his shirt, leaving it on the lawn as he kept moving towards the pier. His boots, socks, and jeans followed, barely breaking his quick stride to strip them off.

“Last time it took him a whole ten minutes to get into the water,” Thomas said, helping Silver, who was too busy staring in shock at the sight of his stern and stoic partner racing across the back patio like a child, from the car. “He might clear five minutes this time.”

A few more quick strides and Flint dove from the end of the pier, breaking the surface of the lake with a thunderous sound and disappearing into the blue.

“He’s in the lake,” Silver said.

Thomas hooked their arms together, the two of them walking leisurely across the lawn. “Every visit, the first thing he does is go to the water. It’s even more dramatic when it’s the ocean, maybe I’ll book us a house on the coast next month.”

“More dramatic than stripping down to his boxers in the back yard?” he asked.

The back lawn of the house was a mix of a large patio and and a short green, with a fire pit and a grill, a small dining table and some cozy chairs, and what silver hoped was a hot tub. A woman was stretched out on one of the long beach chairs in a deep green bikini, her dark hair cut short and a magazine across her lap, though she was watching the water, where Flint had just resurfaced for a moment before diving again.

“Miranda?” Silver called, aware that Thomas was beaming behind him but not at all surprised to see his ex wife. That explained the phone calls, and the rental car out front.

“I believe our husband is in the lake my dears,” Miranda called with a laugh, getting up to come greet them. “God he’s like a little boy at a swimming hole.”

“I’d ask how you got here but that seems almost silly,” Silver said, letting her pull him into a tight hug. They had taken to each other from the first, which had left Thomas and Flint a little uneasy. Miranda’s humor matched his, her wit sharp and familiar, and Silver had learned very quickly why Flint and Thomas were both still in love with her. He wasn’t far from it himself.

“Thomas called, said James needed an intervention,” She said, letting him go to kiss Thomas hello and hug him tight. “I’m on break from teaching this summer and the fall concert season hasn’t started yet, could I come out and join you for a couple weeks? Which was a silly question, I was buying a ticket the moment he suggested it.”

Thomas kissed the top of her head, smiling brightly. “I had hoped you might be his surprise before he jumped in the lake, I’m sorry my dear.”

Silver watched them, feeling a bit dizzy. They were were a perfect pair, Miranda dark and elegant under Thomas’ arm, the cool dusk sky to Thomas’ golden hour sun.

“Don’t be, I’ll go down to him, maybe join him in the water for a bit.” She kissed his cheek, then Silver’s. “There’s some snacks laid out in the kitchen and dinner will be delivered in a couple hours, why don’t you get the bags inside and then come join us. Maybe we can even take Ariel out before dinner.”

“Oh now there’s an idea,” Thomas agreed, moving to go back and fetch the bags from the car. “Tell our husband we’ll join you in a moment. If you can manage to get him up for air.”

Miranda laughed, a bright sunny sound that always reminded Silver of how she played piano, and made her way down to the pier. He watched as she sat down on the edge of the pier, as the surface of the water broke and Flint emerged, staring up at her in shock. Silver heard her laughing, saw her reach out and watched as Flint reached up and pulled her into the lake with a joyful shout of her name. They were lost for a moment to the water, kicking up waves as Flint held her tight and danced them around, clumsy and free. Behind him Silver could hear Thomas laughing, felt his hand as it came to rest warm and sure on his lower back, pulling him in close, as he said something about wishing they’d gotten that on film.

For Silver, it was one of those moments where suddenly he remembered what all those old love songs were written about. He understood it.

And it was finally his.

#my fic #black sails modern au #silverflinthamilton #jamie's fic prompt fills #@halewoods #john silver #james flint #thomas hamilton #miranda hamilton #i truly love this one and am already working on the next segment which will i hope be smutty as well as soft and sappy

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let-this-ship-sink-already · 4 years ago

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Tearing down the Tomdaya timeline, created by "Spidermaninlove" - Part 1 (2016)

I am not using evidence or "proof", which is OUT THERE, to show that this timeline is only based on the emotions/opinions of its creator and is therefore falsely claimed as a fact. I am using common sense to explain the dynamic between the two co-workers/friends that are Tom Holland and Zendaya.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

***

May 29, 2016

Tom leaves London to begin filming Spider-man Homecoming.

June 2016

On June 9, 2016, Zendaya arrived in Atlanta.

Spider-man Homecoming cast begin bonding and filming. Bonding activities included, a “romantic picnic”, pool parties, sleepovers, watching movies, singing, dancing, outings to the aquarium and Waffle House, etc. -> Those are normal activities between people of the same age who start to bond as future co-workers. “Romantic“ as an attribute is an INTERPRETATION.

July 4, 2016

Z and Spider-man cast at Tom’s house for Haz’s birthday/July 4th celebration. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together.

July 23, 2016

Tom, Z, and other Spider-man Homecoming cast members attend the San Diego Comic Con. Z calls Tom “the bomb” during one of the interviews there. Z and Tom pose for a couple cute photographs during the interviews at Comic Con. Z snaps what appears to be the cast at a Comic Con after party. -> Co-workers promoting a movie together. „cute“ is an INTERPRETATION.

July 25, 2016

Tom, Haz, and Z in LA. Z with Tom and Haz at an arcade (via Snapchat). -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together.

August 14, 2016

Tom and Z, along with Deja Carter, Z’s friend, dance (Typo Challenge, etc.) at Tom’s house in Atlanta.

Tom and Z, along with Deja, are video recorded at Starbucks together. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together.

August 16, 2016

Z wraps filming Spider-man Homecoming. Z flies back to LA with Deja. While leaving Atlanta, Z snaps what I believe is the first Tomdaya pout. -> The term „Tomdaya pout“ is made up by the creator and an INTERPRETATION.

September 2, 2016

After over a three-month hiatus, Tom returns to Twitter, and simply tweets “tweet”. Fans noticed he immediately followed Z. Doesn’t tweet again until October 6, 2016, about his return to London. He then apparently forgets his password and with Sony’s help is back on Twitter January 5, 2017.

Analysis: On 9/2/2016, Tom accessed “Twittah” (Twitter) only to follow Z. -> Co-workers/friends promoting a movie together. IRRELEVANT INFO.

September 19, 2016

Z in NY to film The Greatest Showman. -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

September 23, 2016

Spider-man Homecoming wraps principal filming in Atlanta. Tom resumes filming in New York. -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

September 28, 2016

Spider-man cast, including Tom and Z, reunite at restaurant in NY. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together.

September 29, 2016

Tom and Z attend opening night, Cirque Du Soleil, Kurios, in New York, along with Spider-man cast and members of Tom’s family. Tom is wearing a Kizzmet necklace from Z’s Mom’s jewelry line

Update: On September 21, 2018, Claire confirmed on her kizzmetjewelry Instagram story that she made ”Spider-man” a bloodstone necklace two years ago. -> Co-workers promoting a movie together.

October 3, 2016

Spider-man Homecoming filming wraps in Berlin. -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

October 4-5, 2016

Tom in NY for The Hollywood Reporter (THR) interview/photo shoot with Z.

During the THR interview, Tom states that meeting Zendaya for the first time was very embarrassing for him. He also said it wasn’t one of his smoothest moments.

According to Seventeen reporter, Noelle Devoe "... she (Zendaya) and her co-worker (Tom) -- Tomdaya, as I've dubbed this duo -- have insane chemistry." -> Interpretation/opinion.

October 6, 2016

Tom returns to London -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

October 14, 2016

Tom returns to NY for Lost City of Z, New York Film Festival. -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

October 17, 2016

Tom, Z, and Jacob attend Z’s co-star, Veronica Dunne’s, Broadway premiere in the play Chicago. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together.

October 18, 2016

Fan tweeted Tom Holland and Zendaya are in my work hallway. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together if truly happened.

October 29, 2016

Tomdaya sighting at restaurant. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together.

November 9, 2016

Tom and Z grace the cover of The Hollywood Reporter (THR). Z’s stylist, Law Roach, styled both Z and Tom for this photo shoot. Z also filmed the photo shoot for her App.

@tomholland2013, IG: Over the moon with my first cover. So grateful that I got to share it with the one and only @zendaya. Thanks mate for helping me out 👊🏻

@zendaya, IG: Amidst all the chaos and sadness…this one good thing did happen to me today. Honored to share it with the very best…Spider-Man himself @tomholland2013🙏🏽 Thank you for this beautiful cover @THR -> All 3 paragraph: Co-workers/friends promoting a movie together.

Note: On January 25, 2018, over one year later, Z’s interior designer posts a photo of Z’s coffee table with a copy of this edition of THR magazine on it. Z’s Vogue cover issue was not on said coffee table. -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

November 22, 2016

Tom, Z, and Jacob visit hospital in NY, and then all three go to the circus. Tom is wearing the red and black Tomdaya shoes. -> Co-workers promoting a movie. „Tomdaya shoes“ is an ASSUMPTION/INTERPRETATION.

Z tweeted: I think we have worlds best real life Spider-Man… today @nyphospital with my favs @tomholland2013 @lifeisaloha -> Co-workers promoting movie together.

November 23, 2016

Tom and Z spotted coming out of her apartment building and arriving at Bang Bang Tattoo in NY. Z is seen talking to a tattoo artist who also does Z’s mom’s tattoos. We later learn Tom got a spider tattoo on the bottom of his foot. Z snaps paparazzi who followed and photographed them at Bang Bang.

Note: Z doing her thing (damage control) with the paps. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together. Pretending to know what Zendaya considers “damage control“ is an ASSUMPTION/INTERPRETATION.

November 24, 2016

It appears Tom was inside the private jet Z took home to LA for Thanksgiving. -> Assumption.

Thanksgiving

Tom in at least three videos at Z’s Thanksgiving bash, including a video on her App. Tom and Z are very cozy on her sofa. -> Co-workers/friends spending time together. „Cozy on her sofa“ is an INTERPRETATION.

November 28, 2016

Tom posted on IG that he was landing in the San Francisco airport for the first time (Bay area – Z’s from Oakland). -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

November 29, 2016

Z spotted with her mom at basketball game in NY. Tom’s not present, but Odell is. Z snaps meeting Odell at the game was not planned. -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

December 4, 2016

Z attends premiere of Dear Evan Hansen. She appears to be there with The Greatest Showman co-stars. On January 18, 2017, Z posts (IG) she is attending Dear Evan Hansen for the third time. -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

On July 6, 2017, right before Spider-man Homecoming opened in U.S. theaters, Bruce Glikas, of Dear Evan Hansen, posts a photo with Tom Holland thanking Zendaya for the nice surprise and stated he’s looking forward to watching the Spider-man movie.

Analysis: Z took Tom to one of the Dear Evan Hansen performances she attended. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together.

December 6, 2016

Fan tweeted she saw Tom and Z together in a room on Broadway in NY. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together if truly happened.

December 9, 2016

Skai Jackson posted a photo with Tom on Instagram.

Caption: Who’s ready for #spidermanhomecoming ? -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

There is absolutely nothing that links these two together besides the fact that they are co-workers and hanging out like good friends do. It's all in this person's head!

#Tomdaya #Tom holland #zendaya #spidermaninlove #Spiderman #shipping is toxic #Toxic behavior #mental health

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ohsotwistedwords · 3 years ago

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Polybius

By Snapdragon

It was July when the machine came in. My father had ordered some new arcade cabinets for his arcade; it’d been his dream to run one since he was little and then he was teaching me how to run it so one day I’d inherit it. So, I was working on maintenance and helping him with his finances. But, I wanted a more fun job when the cabinets came in. I’ve always been a kid at heart. Video games and dumb stunts were my thing back then, and I always wore the bruises proudly. So, when dad boasted he’d gotten a rare, one of a kind, arcade cabinet I had to get my hands on it.

“We should test it out, make sure it’s actually fun.” I’d said. I was hoping he’d say yes. Summer was almost over and I’d have to go back to mom when she moved back home, after living in France for two years as a tour guide. “Cain, we’ll find out how well-liked it is later. We don’t need to test it.” He said with a grin. “Well, I want to. Maybe it doesn’t even work— if it’s so rare, there must be a reason like the machine breaking down.” I said. “Or maybe there just weren’t that many of them made. Besides, Joey wouldn’t sell me a broken machine.” He said. “Dad, please.” I said. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. You can play after we finish moving the machines in.” He said.

Moving the machines in was easy. It was kind of strange, putting them in place of the older machines I’d grown up with like Pac Man and Tempest. Polybius, the arcade cabinet, was certainly different in appearance. It was a black arcade cabinet instead of an eye-catchingly bright color. On it, outlines of neon green triangles and circles decorated the side. If I had to pick an arcade cabinet to compare it to, in terms of how plain it looked, I’d probably say Tempest— albeit hesitantly. Even Tempest is more eye-catching than Polybius.

When the moving was finished, my father went home. We lived right next door to the arcade, so he wasn’t concerned about leaving me behind. So, I booted up the cabinet and took out a stack of quarters and put one in the machine. It booted up beautifully, but the graphics were all geometrical shapes. I played as a triangle, and fired at two triangles superimposed on each other. The two triangles put out circles and squares, which my small triangle had to shoot before being hit. But, it was… out of place. Colors and complex patterns covered the screen each level I cleared, and the lights flashed. I was on a high level, with blue and green lights and a moving diamond overlay when I glanced at the time.

It was one in the morning, which was strange. It had only been four PM when I finished moving the machines, and yet I couldn’t remember when my feet started to ache or that I’d beaten more than five levels. Stranger still was that my father hadn’t called me home, but when I asked the next morning he told me I’d been home. I’d come and grabbed more quarters, and something to eat. I didn’t remember any of that, but I’d found another roll of quarters in my pockets and my clothes smelled like hoagies.

The apparent amnesia was common when I played, but I chalked it up to having fun. After all, time flies when you’re having fun and I had difficulty remembering what I was doing if I was thinking about something else. I thought I just enjoyed Polybius, and that was why I kept going back when I finished work and playing for hours. I couldn’t sleep, either, but I chalked it up to thinking about the arcade cabinet constantly. I wanted to play badly; something was drawing me in. It didn’t help that I only had one friend, Kyler. It wasn’t that I was disagreeable, but rather that I didn’t care how many friends I had. My parents were divorced, sure, but I had a good family, a good job, and a future. Life was good. If only it stayed that way.

I didn’t know anything was wrong until I came out of my Polybius-induced stupor and Kyler was there. Which was strange; Kyler was blind. I would play arcade games with him, sure, but I’d have to guide him the whole time by telling him where to move. Seeing him adapt to that was always interesting, but even I had trouble determining where things were in Polybius. And besides, he liked calmer games like Pokémon where he could memorize layouts and only needed occasional updates on what was around him.

But, while I stared and wondered where he came from, the triangle he was playing as was blown up by a rogue square. He didn’t speak to me as he inserted another quarter and kept playing. He got hit almost immediately. The silence was odd— if I didn’t say anything, he’d say something to me and tease me for missing something or not talking fast enough. So, I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Kyler? When did you get here?” I asked. He spun around, eyes just slightly off from where I was. “What do you mean? You called me and told me to come here?” He asked. Then he paused and took out his phone. At the press of a button, it started reading off his notifications and the time. It was six in the morning, and he’d had seventeen missed calls from his mom and dad. “Six in the morning?! I could’ve sworn it’d only been five minutes…” he said. “I don’t remember calling you; when did you get here?” I asked. He paused again, then rubbed his face. “Uh… seven, maybe seven-thirty. Shit. I need to go home.” He said. I knew he lived a few blocks away, and I didn’t want him walking home alone at night. Not with his white cane, which I couldn’t help but think would mark him as a target for would-be muggers. “Let me drive you home. It’s pretty late.” I said. He agreed, and we got in the car.

“Cain, I kind of remember a little bit now. Not much, but… the cabinet apparently spoke, I think.” He said halfway to his house. “It did?” I wouldn’t doubt it, even if I couldn’t remember it speaking. With a little more effort, though, I remembered faint words on the screen, though the memory was too blurry to make them out. “It did.” He said with a sigh. I was very concerned, at that moment, that I couldn’t remember what just happened or that Kyler and I had been hanging out for almost twelve hours. Or could only remember a picture of the machine and not even know when I saw it.

Either way, I had work in an hour and a half. And I wasn’t even tired. I tried not to think about Polybius, not to play it again, but I found myself inserting a quarter into the machine as soon as I was done with work. With a quarter already in the machine, I resigned myself to playing just a little bit. I don’t remember what happened after that, but I came to in some tunnels underground. Kyler was there, arm linked in mine and his free arm sweeping the ground with his cane. I didn’t even know there were tunnels under the town. Neither did Kyler. We wandered for hours, and exited the tunnels about an hour later.

Days had apparently passed from the time we played the arcade cabinet and we ended up in the tunnels. We were declared missing in the time we didn’t remember, and our parents were upset. Kyler’s, because they thought he’d been kidnapped, and my father because he assumed I got hurt and stranded alone somewhere. He was mad when I told him I didn’t know what happened, that Kyler and I ended up in some tunnels under the town. He said there were no tunnels, that I was lying. I know I wasn’t, and I knew I wasn’t lying then either. I saw things, then. Shapes, mostly, flitting across my vision and people in my peripheral vision who weren’t even there. It went away after I slept. And things like that just keep happening.

I have to destroy the machine.

So, I stand with a baseball bat I’d hidden in the supply closet. The machine flashes to life, as if it knows I’m here. “Salutations, Cain.” The words appear on the screen. I take a step closer as my arms and legs feel like jello. I just have to get in one good hit, one good hit and this nightmare is over. But, then, against my will the bat falls out of my hands and clatters to the floor. My legs move of their own accord, and I stand in front of the machine. “You think you can mock me, Cain? I cannot be destroyed so easily.”

I’m curled up in a corner, next thing I know, and I’m being shaken. “Cain, have you been here all night?! You had me worried sick!” It’s my father. “What time is it?” I ask. My words are slurred, and it feels like there are dull needles just behind my eyes. But I’m still not tired. “It’s eight in the morning!” He says. I’ve been here for… over twelve hours. Have I been in this corner all night? It can’t be; my limbs aren’t stiff. “Are you sure you’re good to work today? You’re really out of it, Cain.” My father says. I look around; the baseball bat is nowhere to be found. “Uh… y-yeah, I think so.” I say.

So, I stand and get to work opening up. Footsteps shuffle behind me. “Maybe taking the day off would be good for you. I don’t think you’re up for working today.” My father says. I shake my head and refrain from wincing at the ache it causes. “I’ll be fine. Just need to move around a bit.” I say as I unlock the front door, our early gamers already waiting outside. Well, I suppose it’s less that they’re early and more that we’re half an hour late. I stick near Polybius today, and what strikes me more than anything is the long line. It’s so orderly it’s baffling, and then anyone who has played stumbles out quietly. Without touching another arcade cabinet. Maybe the machine is affecting more than just me. The thought sends chills down my spine. It feels… right. I have to try to destroy it again tonight.

So, after a long day, I dismiss everyone in the line like I’ve been doing every day since Polybius showed up. But, once everyone is gone, the urge to play comes back. I fight against it and fill a bucket with water before going back to where Polybius stands. Dropping water on it may break some other cabinets, but I don't care. I just want this one gone. It flashes to life again, showing a laughing face. I feel like jello again, and stumble forward only to carefully put the bucket of water down. This time, when I come to, I’m in my room. There’s blood on the floor, and a hot ache in my arms. My arms are covered in blood, so I take a dirty towel to wipe it away. I’ll clean them after they stop bleeding. Except, when I wipe it away, more oozes up out of my arms. There are cuts in my arms. I pause. I don’t remember doing this, either. But, it feels right. Like all the other times I’ve come to in odd places, from the tunnels to alleyways.

I really can’t keep doing this. Polybius needs to go. But right now I need to clean up all the blood on the floor and get my arms situated. So, I take a few more dirty towels and wipe up the blood and take turns pressing down on each arm to stop the bleeding. When it stops, I throw on a long-sleeved shirt and head to the bathroom. I examine the wounds more closely, as I wash them with soap and water while ignoring the stinging. They look like clean cuts; I think a knife made them. But I don’t know. There wasn’t a knife around me when I came to.

I go to work again, like every day, but I stop a group of three teens. “I have a job for you, if you’ll take it. You’ll make a hundred bucks each.” I say. They squint at me. “What kind of job?” One asks. “I’ll give you the spare key to the arcade, and you’ll destroy Polybius after hours.” I say. The stout one shrugs. “Pay us first, then we’ll do it.”

***

I come into work, like everyday. And immediately walk up to Polybius. It stands, with its screen smashed in and dents in its sides.

#polybius #short story #about 2000 words #fiction #supernatural #blind character #I tried my best but am not sure I wrote an accurate blind character #I apologize for being gone so long but I was bust #I haven't forgotten Tumblr

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florenceandthemachine · 4 years ago

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that original lifeline

chapter 5 / 5 - “you deserve what you are given” - 3.6k

in which Eddie has a good day, has a bad day, sees a familiar face, and tries not to blow up an ambulance. not necessarily in that order.

it’s all done! my first ever standalone, prompt-free fic! I hope you all at least tolerated it as much as I did. I also would like to say—please, if you’re seeing things that look messy or need to be touched up, you’re welcome to let me know. I'm sure I'm going to go over it and re-edit a million times over the next week.

read on AO3

Eddie knew that things were going to be different the moment he slapped his alarm the next morning, because for the first time in months, he actually turned his alarm off. He didn’t lie in bed and ignore it, he didn’t hit snooze until he could get the energy to see the day, he turned it off, he got up, and he started to dress. He couldn’t remember the last time he had greeted a Monday on time for an early morning workout, but the few miles he was able to get in on the treadmill was nothing compared to the look of happiness on his son’s face when he got to join him and Carla for breakfast—instead of running out the door, a granola bar lodged in his mouth. He literally felt like he just woke up on the right side of the bed this morning; judging by the way that Chris lit up, and Carla rose her brows in surprise, his change in attitude was already being noticed.

Even if Carla was good enough not to comment on it.

Honestly, Eddie didn’t know what was going on himself, but he wasn’t going to complain. A day ago, he had almost started to cry at one of those family car commercials with an old dog in it, and today, he was already back into the familiar motions of ‘being well’.

He had been through enough therapy in his life to know the “highs and lows” mental health speech every which way, but what he hadn’t realized until this morning was that when you were low, being low becomes your new normal. Eddie had been through it before (with Shannon, with his parents, with… name a thing), and he knew it would probably come again, but that didn’t make the moments that he got to stand in the light on the other side of the tunnel any less sweet.

It felt like he was standing in the sun.

“Morning Hen! Coffee?” Eddie grinned as he took the stairs up into the loft two at a time, box of danishes in one hand, coffee holders stacked high in the other. He had literally been smiling since he parked his car outside, and was now beaming at Hen only because she was lucky enough to be the first person he got to see that day. Lucky, sure, but he still didn’t miss the way that her brows rose into her hair as she took her cup and her selection of baked goods, knowing full well that this was probably… a lot to take in from his behavior for the past many weeks.

“You’re… cheery.” Hen commented easily, staring at Eddie like a puzzle to figure out—and while that would have made him nervous before, it was actually kind of nice now, a friend showing that she cared.

To his credit, Eddie just shrugged, pulling off another coffee as he put the boxes down on the table, knowing full well they would be devoured before he could even look back. “What can I say? It’s a good day today, the sun is out, and I only have to be here for eight hours. Hey, where’s Chim? I got Mr. Asian James Bond an extra bear claw, since he’s been driving everyone up the wall with his whole sorority girls speech.”

Hen let the topic drop (and Eddie thanked her silently for it) as she groaned and shook her head, taking another drag from her coffee cup as, sure enough, the pastry boxes started to draw everyone in like flies. He started handing out coffees to those who’s orders he could remember, grinning as Hen launched into it. “No no, ‘Asian James Bond’ was last week, now it’s ‘Asian Sex Symbol’ to you. God, that stupid calendar, between he and Bobby I am ready to enter myself, blow them both out of the water as Miss July, and—”

“Hey, hold up, where’s Bosko?” Eddie said, cutting her off before she could pick up too much steam, staring at the last coffee in his hands as Bobby pulled his own free.

Hen and Bobby shared a glance as Bobby cleared his throat around a mouthful of coffee, swallowing before he started to speak. “Actually, Lena’s back with the 136 for the foreseeable future. I’m happy to say that we finally have that vacancy filled.”

Eddie felt his brows launch into his hairline, only vaguely remembering that Lena was supposed to be here on a temporary basis—and he had been a complete ass to her for the past few months. Well, that was going to be a fun little addition to his long list of issues, and he winced as he made a mental note to swing by the 136 later on with another danish and an apology. Hen caught the look, her own brow tilting in return, though she was good enough to redirect her attention back up to Bobby. “So, wait, who’s going to be the newbie on the 118?”

“He is walking up the stairs right now, if you want to turn around. Just graduated out of the Academy last week. Pretty much top of his class, apparently impressed enough people that I had to fight off station 6 to get him to come here—welcome, Evan Buckley.”

“Hey, uh, you can just call me Buck.”

Eddie almost choked on his coffee as he heard a voice behind him, grabbing a napkin to catch a few drops as he turned, trying to repress his cough as he turned around, meeting a pair of blue eyes, staring at Eddie with an intensity that made his insides curl like he had just been sucker punched. He didn’t say anything, of course, just reached out and shook hands, introduced himself, did the whole shebang—with a smile, he might add!

Today was a good day. It could still be a good day. It really, really had the potential to be a good day.

Today was not a good day.

Eddie wanted to work well with Buck, he really did, but every time Buck opened his mouth, all Eddie could feel was pressure, water pushing in on him at every angle, the choking taste of mud in his mouth. At this point in time, Eddie wasn’t sure what was worse—that Buck seemed to put his foot in his mouth whenever he talked to Eddie, or the fact that he didn’t seem to give a fuck where and when he was flapping his yap.

An exploding man hole cover literally knocking someone’s arm into the nearby pool? He had barely started with “Hey, you good? You must have lucked out after that firetruck and all…” before Eddie was talking over him, asking for gauze and a tourniquet to try and save some of the live tissue in the very-much-not-alive arm.

A stab wound to the ass that resulted in the most lifelike Michelin man that Eddie had ever seen? “So, silver star, huh? You save a platoon or something?” Eddie managed to smile, jaw tight as he shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I was just in convoy.”

Even their downtime wasn’t safe—a grocery run that wound up with the entire team stacked high with grocery bags as they walked back into the station? “Hey, I saw a piece about that drill—“

“Alright, who wants lunch?” Eddie was immensely thankful for Bobby’s distraction, not bothering to hide the fact that his interruption was far from a coincidence. By now, even Hen was looking at Buck like he was a crazy person at that point—or maybe just an asshole.

Somehow, after all of their calls, it only came to a head in the gym. Apparently, Buck had decided that the subtle approach (not that anything Buck did could be called subtle) wasn’t good enough, and for whatever reason decided that the gym was the best time to approach Eddie.

Honestly, if Eddie wasn’t a good thirty away from the first real workout he had had in weeks, he probably would have walked away.

“Eddie, you… you know who I am, right?”

His jaw twitching in time with his punches, Eddie finally relented from the poor bag and looked at Buck directly, jaw set as he started to rewrap his hands. “And what if I didn’t? You think this would have gone over well with HR, the new guy bringing up the worst days of my life and all but asking me about a fucking guardian angel?”

“Jesus, that’s not what I—“

“I met Athena.”

Eddie could almost hear Buck’s mouth shut, the clack of his teeth somehow louder than the din of the station behind him. “I met her and she told me that she didn’t know what had happened, and then she offered to make me forget. Forget about you, about everything, because not even she knew where you had wound up.” Eddie started, rolling his wrists easily. “She apologized to me, she said she missed you, well, not that she was alone in that sense. You should probably find a way to apologize to her, too. Let her know you’re okay. Hold the bag.” Eddie’s voice was low even as his tone started to sharpen, doing his absolute best to keep his face neutral, lest he want any attention from Hen or Bobby for harassing the new guy.

To Buck’s credit, he did as Eddie asked, holding the bag steady as Eddie started to wail on it anew, thankful that he at least had the temporary distraction of pressure against his knuckles to stop the urge to scream into the sky.

“Athena… she really did that?” Eddie didn’t respond, just threw another punch, grunting with the exertion. Buck’s voice was low, barely louder than the sound of Eddie’s hands making contact with the bag. “Is that what you want? An apology? Because I’m not going to apologize for saving you, Eddie, I’m not going to say sorry for not leaving you in the bottom of a pit to… I’m not sorry for that. So if that’s what you’re after, I don’t know what to offer you.”

Eddie threw a kick from his left, giving Buck plenty of time to adjust his grip before his ankle came smashing into the bag, panting as he stared Buck down, feeling the anger start to drain out of him as he breathed, shaking his head. “Buck, is that what you think this is about?”

Buck, bless him, just looked like a lost puppy when what Eddie said sunk in.

“You saved my life. I mean, you’ve always kept me safe, but back there you saved my life. You let me go home to my kid, you… I could never thank you enough for that. I’m not mad about that.” He shook his head, flexing his fingers as he took another fighting stance, his poster lower, more subdued than the all out attack he was waging before.

“Well then what—“

“I’m not mad at you because you left.” Eddie repeated, starting another round of punches, each hit slower, shorter, but packed with more force than was strictly necessary. “I’m mad at you because you fucking—because you didn’t come back. Because you chose not to come back. You went through the academy, top of the class, and that was eighteen weeks of you being here, just miles away from me in Los Angeles, and you let me think that you were dead that entire time. You were with me my whole entire life, you were a constant, and then I lost you, Buck, and I had to try and live with that. And then you show up at work today, and you’re alive, and human, and I’ve had barely eight hours to deal with all of this, after I—I fucking mourned you. I mourned you, and you let me, and that—that’s why I’m mad.”

Although, the more he spoke, the more Eddie realized that he wasn’t mad, not really, not that he would own up to it that easily. He wasn’t angry, he was just… crushed. His hook got sloppy and he went wide, eyes wild, stumbling only a little before catching himself on the bag.

“Why does everyone leave me? What did I do, Buck, why didn’t you come back?”

The sudden sound of footsteps drew his eye up to the loft where the next shift was pouring in, easily exchanging pleasantries with Eddie’s team, and Eddie felt the last bit of fight drain out of him as he started to unwind his gloves. The day was done. His shift was over. And after feeling nothing but empty for weeks, Eddie had just about exhausted the entire range of his emotional capabilities in less than a day.

“Eddie, I—“

“Forget it, Buck. I’ll see you tomorrow, or whatever.” Eddie said, not even bothering to look over his shoulder as he headed back to the locker area.

“Fire and Rescue, hello?”

Eddie was having another… long day. Not a bad day, not necessarily, but not a… great day either. He had still managed to get up, he had still brought himself to work, he still managed an honest smile when he kissed Chris goodbye, but he found himself hesitating before he wound up walking into the 118. He didn’t know if he could handle Buck again today—thankfully, it seemed like he didn’t have to. Buck was mostly absent that morning, giving Eddie enough apologetic looks over the table to display that he got he had been an asshole the day before (or, more likely, that Hen and Chim had verbally beat that fact into him before Eddie got there).

Their morning had gone off without incident—there had only been one real call outside a few false alarms, a moron with his head literally cemented into a microwave—and to be honest, Eddie couldn’t deny the fact that he loved how easily he and Buck could work together. Well, how easy they worked together when Buck shut up for three minutes.

Another save, an easy lunch, and Eddie’s eight hour shift looked like it would be ending easily when they got the call to head down to Torrence, walking into what felt like the worlds most mothball-scented Army Navy Surplus store.

Eddie felt his body tense up as soon as the word ‘grenade’, having to take a split second to remind himself that he was still in the States, he wasn’t in wartime, he was still safe. Because he was safe, they were okay, until Buck moved the dressings and a gold glint caught his eye.

“None of the guys I’ve worked with were dumb enough to shoot a live round into their own leg, but I’m familiar with the ordinance.”

Eddie felt his jaw twitch again as Buck stared him down, a tic that he was sure would come to be familiar in over the next few days. Honestly, he was starting to think that Buck was just bringing all the mess with him—he had gone months without a call that threatened his life and limb, and then as soon as Buck came back into his life, there he was, with a grenade stuck inside of some old, gun collecting bastard. He could almost feel the moment where Buck opened his mouth—it was the same feeling he got whenever Buck had appeared, years and years ago, whenever something extremely stupid was about to happen.

“I’m in.”

Of course he was.

For what it was worth, Buck had stellar bedside manner. It was easy for him to to make small talk with Charlie while he hung the morphine, asking about his wife, his life, and Eddie found himself a little bit reassured by how easily Buck was able to buckle down and rise to the situation. After all, Buck had been doing that for Eddie’s whole life—it would be a shame if he lost that skill when he could use it the most.

They kept their talk small and professional as Eddie worked, even though most of his work was giving short, clipped orders, like he was afraid that the grenade would be able to tell how stressed out he was and put them both out of their misery, then and there. They both let out a collective sigh of relief as the grenade plunked, solid and heavy into the bin, Buck hastily closing it like a lid would save them all if that thing were to blow up.

Eddie was just finishing up, throwing a few stitches to try and keep things together until Charlie could make it up to surgery when Buck finally found his voice.

“I was scared, Eddie.”

Eddie didn’t even bother looking up, his fingers working quickly. “I know, but we got it out, we just have to be careful not to move the box too much.”

“No. I mean, about coming back, about seeing you, I… I was scared.”

Eddie looked up as he threw another stitch, sparing a quick look to make sure that the old man was still out cold. When Buck looked up to him, Eddie rose his brows, giving him a little not of encouragement.

“You said I’ve been with you your whole life, but… that goes both ways, Eddie. I don’t even know what happened, one minute I had hurled you out of that lake, and the next I was nothing, there was just nothing, and then…” He took a breath as he moved the dressings, letting Eddie continue his easy stitchwort. “And then I was in a loft in Los Angeles, with a drivers license in my pocket and a brochure for the LAFD Academy on a dresser. I still don’t know how I got there, but I knew it would bring me to you.”

“Here, cut here.”

Buck snipped the end of Eddie’s suture easily, passing him a tube of antibacterial gel, dolloping it along the messy wound site.

“For the first time in years, I couldn’t feel you anymore. I didn’t know what you were doing, or how you were feeling, or if you were safe, and it scared me. I missed you, of course I did, but I knew that if I just went right back to you, it would be like nothing had changed, when really, everything had changed.” Eddie looked up as he covered the gel in an adhesive gauze patch, hanging another bag of fluids, eyes tracking between the steady blip of the heart monitor and the very live grenade in a bin at the end of the ambulance, while his brain tried to keep up with the live grenade that he and Buck were lobbing back and forth.

Nodding for Buck to open the back door, Eddie waited until they both had their feet on the ground to respond, rolling his neck. “Well, that’s kind of par for the course. Being scared, I mean.” he started, a small smile on his face as Buck looked back, catching his eye. Eddie shrugged, eye darting over to the rest of their team, still safely out of earshot as he nudged Buck’s shoulder, the motion easy and simple, muscle memory built up over years.

“Welcome to the human condition. It kind of sucks. You’re going to love it.”

And fuck, Buck was smiling again. Eddie would give anything to keep that look on his face, even as they handed Charlie off to the medics, even as the bomb squad guy called in the robot to… well, to do what, Eddie didn’t know. But that was the beauty of it all—he didn’t have to care anymore. All that mattered to him in that moment were his boots on his ground, the air around him, and maybe, if he played his cards right, the team he got to work with. He could feel Bobby’s eyes on him as he pulled his flac jacket off, a little slow on the uptake of whatever had happened in the ambulance.

“You know, you’re pretty badass under pressure.” Eddie said, his face curving up into the first real smile he had worn in days. Buck looked like a deer in the headlights, like Eddie must have been talking to someone, anyone else, and even Bobby cracked a grin as Eddie smacked him in the arm. “You can have my back any day.”

Buck looked, well, Eddie would have framed the look on Buck’s face if he could. It was a vision of pure joy, the simple sentence meaning more to both of them than anyone else could ever know, and Eddie had to resist the urge to pull him into a bone crushing hug as he kicked at the ground.

“Yeah. Or, you know, you could… You could have mine.”

If Eddie smiled any wider, he felt like his face was going to crack.

They were still not great—not by a long shot—but for the first time in almost six months, Eddie finally felt something close to closure, to peace, a starting point for the two of them that would take them both who-knows-where.

“Deal.”

And then, because nothing in Eddie’s life was ever easy, the ambulance exploded. Eddie wasn’t even phased at this point in his life—any exploding vehicle was fine by him as long as he wasn’t on it.

“Are, uh, are you guys hungry? There’s a great burger place around here, they’re open for another hour or so.”

Hanging back as the rest of his crew packed up, Bobby pulled his phone out of his pocket as it buzzed, a small smile gracing his lips as he unlocked it.

New Message from A - 11:12PM

Well? Was I right, or was I right?

“Cap, come on! Burgers wait for no man!”

To A - 11:14PM

They’re going to be one hell of a team.

#guardianangel!buck #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 #buddiefic #911fic #so happy to have this out of my drafts #srsly don't feel shy about pointing shit out to me #it's what I can do so I can an grow #FINALLY THIS IS DONE #I HATE IT ALREADY LMAOOO

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demivampirew · 4 years ago

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Keep Calm and Go to London chapter 22

Synopsis: This is the story of (y/n), a successful actress, musician, musical producer and songwriter. After battling depression and breaking up a long relationship, she seeks for a change of air, escaping LA for a while going to visit some friends in London and there she meets Henry. -Disclaimer: some chapters are mostly smut.

Previous Chapters in the masterlist

Triggers: (talking about trying to kill a movie character); talking about activism (Black Lives Matter, feminism, LGBTQ+, etc)

Tag list: Here’s the incredible people who showed me support (thank you so much for that) and people who asked me to tag them too ☺️ (I think I will write a few chapters of this story, if you want me to tag you, tell me ☺️ ) @cavillanche @mary-ann84 @henry-owns-these-tatas @yespolkadotkitty @dancingwendigo constip8merm8 penwieldingdreamer iloveyouyen littlefreya wondersofdreaming alyxkbrl solariumss sweetybuzz25 @thethirstyarchive @agniavateira @honeyloverogers @hell1129-blog @lunedelorient @michelle-1185 @madbaddic7ed @summersong69

Disclaimer: As well as quarantine, I tried to keep the story in a real world and conected it to the world events and I feel like there a certain topics that need to be addressed. Of course, this is how I feel about things that happened - especially in the fandom- but I’m not Henry, so I do not know for sure what is the reality, just my perception on the matter. The other disclaimer is that in the chapter is a song that reader writes, than in reality belongs to the dutch band Epica (the song is called Dreamscape - I totally recommend you to listen to this song, is absolutely beautiful ♥)

Your whole body hurt. Henry had been training you for the last few days. You would watch and imitate a few dance routines from the internet to burn calories and then work with him to gain some muscle and strength. In your new movie, you had a few action scenes and you needed to be prepare. In one of the scenes, you needed to carry a man big as Henry and sitting him on a chair to be able to chain him, for this man tried to kill your character and you needed him trapped to question him. In that particular scene, there was a fight previous in which you were able to leave him unconscious and now you had to carry his body from one room to another. You practice that scene with your boyfriend, but it was hard to carry him. He made things more difficult to you because he would laugh for he felt tingles down his body when you touched him and made you laugh as well. The farther you got was from the bed to the door, and your whole body aches so much after that. He encouraged you and told you that you'd eventually make it and that you still have plenty of time to practice - quarantine was still going and flies to the States weren't allowed at least until July, so you had for sure a few more months to prepare-. You managed to hold Kal on your arms once, but you almost dropped him accidentally because he began liking your face and making you laugh. Besides working on getting ready for your new movie, you were working on new music. One afternoon, making sure that you take all the necessary precautions, you and Henry went into a music store to buy instruments. The shop was closed due to the epidemic, but you knew the owner and was an old friend, so he made you a favour. You got a nice keyboard, a violin, a new electric guitar, amplifiers, microphones and equipment necessary to record. Henry helped you turn an empty room into a small studio where you could make and record music. You would send the partiture to your brand, then they'd record their parts separately and send it to you so you could put together. You were super excited because everything was going great. After finishing your first song, you went to Henry and played the song for him.

Try and define eternity No beginning and no end A world upside down Countless clouds on the ground I'm a figment of my imagination

Hunt for tricks of light (hunt for tricks of light) Thoughts painting colourful dimensions (dimensions)

If we could roam through fantasies No more dusk and no more dawn Every little grain of sand shapes the endless land Mirrors showing limitless reflections

Hunt for tricks of light (hunt for tricks of light) Thoughts painting new dimensions You can make our time stand still Come and read the sky (read the sky) Fly with the wings of true emotion (emotion)

And this time again It won't be the same Silent symphonies playing eternally Every step I take, every bone I break Every memory shares a symphony

Henry was speechless. He looked at you with such admiration, not believing how amazing his girlfriend was. He was new to your music, but now he was your biggest fanboy. You sometimes would sing lullabies for him when he had trouble falling asleep, and he'd do it with a big smile on his face. Henry was such a cheerful and hopeful person, that his energy and positivity was contagious. That's why it didn't take you long to see that he was not feeling well. Even Kal noticed the changed in his mood and would not separate from his side at all times, even at night. He usually slept on the couch, but now he wouldn't stop barking until he was allowed into the room. You used to make love every night, but in the last few days, he would fall asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. You tried to think that was due to the exhaustion from getting back into the gym to train for the series, but it was more than that. You had been there before, you knew that kind of tiredness came from an emotional place. On Sunday morning, you get up first and prepare a nice breakfast to enjoy in the garden. - What's going on, baby? - you asked him worriedly - Nothing, everything's great, baby.- he lied and you knew it. - You can tell me anything, you know that - you reminded him. He looked at you and sighed. Then, he took a deep breath and finally confessed what was going through his mind. - I'm just... is this whole Black Lives Matter situation. I always tried to stay away from topics that divide people, because I want to believe that no matter what political view people might have, that there's good in them. I always tried to remain impartial and try to help people come together, but I knew that this time things were different. I tried to let people know where I stand; that no matter how much I want peace among everyone, I stand against injustice, but apparently, I decided to take action too late and my words were not the right ones for people. I've received a lot of criticism and a lot of fans are disappointed. That hurts, disappointing people it hurts. But what hurts me the most is knowing that the most disappointed by this must be my friends. I don't want them to believe that I do not care about them or this matter, is just... - he sighed again, unable to finished his speech. You grabbed his hand and kissed it. - I know. I cannot say that your friends might not be a little disappointed like some of your fans, but I'm sure that they know that you love them, even if you could have done better for them. They know you, they know how you always were Switzerland in politics and social issues and they must be happy that at least you spoke about it, even if it wasn't much. - you said and smiled at him to cheer him up - You're new to this world, babe, but let me tell you is hard, no matter how hard you try to do things well. I became an activist after the shootings in schools and some people had problems with that. Then I said in an interview that I did not consider myself a democrat either, because I feel that at the moment that you label yourself, your opinion becomes bias, and I wanted to be free to choose my own opinions, and I received tones of criticism from the other side. As a feminist, I have been criticized for not marching or doing enough to fight inequality, and when I did it I was accused of using the topic for fame. The same thing with LGTBQ+ community, I've been told many times that I don't do enough for them and other times that I used them for publicity. The same thing happens with most of my celebrity friends. I've been accused of being transphobic for supporting Jared's role in Dallas Buyer's Club, when in reality it was me who took the time to, in a lovely manner, explain to him why people were mad about him taking that role and why they were right when they said that role should have been portrayed by a real trans woman. People also judge me for slut-shaming women in songs that I wrote when I was a teenager. They judge me because I'm a fan of horror cinema and I confessed my love for Rosemary's Baby -because it was directed by Roman Polanski. The truth is that there is always something that people would find to criticize you, don't let it get to you. And you shouldn't feel guilty. This thing has been happening for a long time in America, is not new and there are lots of people that started to talk about it recently. I also remained in silence for a long time. Talk about inequality among people of colour and white people in my Oscar's speech in 2016, because I thought it was necessary, giving the all that was going on at the time. But for a long time remained silent about police brutality. I did it because I did not want to look like the white girl that came to the rescue. I didn't know what to do, until not so long ago I had a conversation with a woman that worked with me many times in my music career. She's a woman of colour and after discussing the issue, she explained how I could use my voice to help her community and not being about me trying to be "a saviour" but actually being an ally. You'll find your voice. But know, that for little that it was your action, still was meaningful. You might have been late to the party and got there without a present, but you still went and that counts. - you assured him and kissed him, stroking his face. He put his forehead against yours and told you that he loves you. You got up and started to play with Kal and do silly things to make him laugh and fortunately, your plan worked.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #demivampirew

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hardlyinteresting · 5 years ago

Text

Gone with the wind

Bucky makes it home from war and finds an unlikely friendship with the daughter of the man he’s working for.

Loosely based on the song “Cleopatra” by The Lumineers. 1940s!AU (I haven’t written in a long time so please be kind, I’m rusty) Warnings: Mildly toxic home life, 1940s sexism, alludes to past sexual assault, mugging, swears

July 1949

It’s hot. Far too hot, Y/N thinks. The ringlets her mother had insisted she wear her hair in have fallen loose since this morning, tight frizzy curls beginning to form at the nape of her neck and temples. She can feel the sweat forming and she wishes she was young again so that she might be allowed to go swimming in the stream behind the estate. Instead, she’s stuck in frills and lace of white and cream, forced to take tea with her mother, father and their guests; her father’s business associate, Joseph Redding and his son, Robert.

The conversation is dull especially since she’s not allowed to contribute any of her ideas on the stock market or trade. She allows her eyes to wander across the yard to the man her father had hired at the beginning of the summer season. She watches as he rolls up his shirt sleeve for the third time, wiping his grease-covered hand on his grey slacks. He’s handsome with his dark hair and blue eyes; he has a kind smile too when anyone approaches, but he works alone The best mechanic and vallet her father has ever employed apparently.

She wonders if he fought in the war, like her brother William had. He’s tall and strong--he must’ve been overseas. Maybe he had served with William, maybe he’d know what really happened over there, what happened to Willi-- She’s snapped out of her thoughts by a subtle kick under the table from her mother.

“The Reddings are hosting a gala, Y/N. Isn’t that lovely?” her mother smiles politely, but Y/N knows the annoyance that lies beneath, just for her.

“Yes, it is. A lovely way to end the social season, I agree” Y/N nods taking a sip of her now cold tea.

“I’d be honoured if miss Y/N might accompany me to the gala,” Robert speaks.

Y/N isn’t shocked, but she resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Y/N would be delighted” Her father speaks for her. She can only smile though it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“May I be excused?” she asks, “I think the heat might be getting to me, I’m feeling quite faint”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, instead, she stands to leave the patio and makes her way towards the door.

“Good afternoon miss,” The mechanic greets politely as she passes.

Slowing her steps on the gravel of the driveway she smiles, “Good afternoon”.

He is far more handsome up close she decides.

_____________________________

August 1949

The gala is only a week away and she still hasn’t found a dress to wear. It’s her first public outing since the war ended. Something doesn’t feel right about shopping for the perfect dress knowing that her brother isn’t with their father at the tailor having a new tux made. Maybe, if she can’t find a dress in time she won’t have to go to the gala at all.

Y/N slips into her favourite dress. The red one with little white polka dots. Her mother despises it, but maybe that’s why she likes it so much. She paints her lips with her victory red lipstick to match. Perfect.

Maybe she’ll get a red dress for the gala.

when she gets downstairs she finds the car man waiting patiently. Clean white shirt and black pants. They’re ironed and pleated perfectly she would almost think they were new if it weren’t for the repair that’s been made in the knee of them.

“Good Morning Miss,” He greets with a smile.

“Good Morning”.

He makes sure to hold the door for her, closing it behind her before running ahead to open the door of the black Lincoln, making sure the front seat was forward enough for her to get in the back.

“Don’t bother, I’m sitting in the front today,” She grins opening the passenger side door.

“your father said for me to make sure you sat in the back seat Miss”

“My father is on a business trip and my mother is at tea with the neighbours. I won’t tell if you don’t. Besides, I’d like to drive with the roof down, and how am I ever supposed to hear a word you say with all the wind back there”.

He swallows and nods, shutting the back door. Slipping into the driver's seat he sighs, “Where to first miss?”

“It’s Y/N”

“Alright, where to first miss Y/n” he smirks starting the car.

“Manhattan, fifth and 38th”

She likes the sound of the engine and the breeze through her hair. Her smile is bright and genuine as they near the city.

“So, you’ve been working for my father all summer and I still don’t know your name”.

“My name is James. But you can call me Bucky”. “Bucky...I like it. It suits you. Have you always worked with cars, Bucky?” “For the most part. When I finished school I started helping my dad out in his shop before he died. And then the war happened. I’m glad to be back doing what I’m good at.” “I’m sure you were very brave over there, Bucky” she offers kindly.

Y/N talks a lot, but he doesn’t mind. She’s quieter and kinder than her mother, and smarter and more tactful than her father. He enjoys her company.

When they arrive in the garment district Bucky turns the rearview mirror for her so she can see herself and fix her wind-tossed hair.

“Thank you for the drive Bucky. I’ll see you back here in an hour”.

“Your father asked me to be you escort for the day. I’m meant to come with you”.

“I am more than capable of looking after myself. I don’t need a man to look after me. What do you think we all did when you men were away at war?”

He can tell she’s frustrated. He doesn’t blame her. He knows her anger isn’t really directed towards him. So, he lets her have her moment of free speech. He knows she spends most of her days holding her tongue at home.

He nods. Leaning against the hood of the car he lights a smoke. “I’ll see you in an hour then. But, I will come and find you if you’re late. Your father will have my head if anything happens to you”.

“I’m glad to hear we agree,” Y/N bubbles. Bucky can only shake his head as she walks away. She’s something else. He knows that if steve could see him now he’d be in for a world of jokes and jabs. Bucky just hasn’t been the same since he got home. The dance halls don’t feel as light as they used to, instead, they’re only a reminder of who he was before he watched the world change before his very eyes. The girls aren’t the same now either, everyone wants a soldier, and that's the last thing he wants to be anymore. Y/N is different. She gorgeous without trying. She’s kind even though her position in life doesn’t lend itself to compassion. He can tell she wants more from life and there’s something about the way she looks at people- right into their souls that makes them want to give her everything they have, Bucky is no exception.

45 minutes later she’s returned a large box in her arms and a grin as wide as the new york skyline. He hopes she got a red dress like she said she wanted.

_______________________

It’s two days later when Bucky is asked to take Y/N into town so she can meet with a friend. He’s parked outside the restaurant reading a book Steve gave him the week before when he hears the commotion. He wants to ignore it, there’s always something bad happening in New York and often times it’s better to just turn a blind eye, but a woman’s scream has him leaping over the car door and running up the alleyway behind the restaurant and hotel.

“Bucky!” she screams again. Y/N.

His fist flies and he’s reminded of his time before the war beating up the guys who tried to hurt little Steve. His knuckles are bloody when he’s done, he has Y/N’s purse in his hand, torn away from one of her attackers.

She’s sobbing when he approaches her, shaking in her little blue dress. He slips off his jacket wrapping it around her shoulders. She clutches his shirt tightly as he guides her back to the car, a friendly hand on the small of her back. When she’s situated in the front seat he takes a moment to look her over. The knee of her stockings is torn, she’s bleeding. She holds her left hand to her chest as she cries. He’s filled with rage once more, wishing he had done more than just punch those fuckers’ teeth out.

“let's get you home, yeah?” he asks quietly a comforting hand on her shoulder, she leans towards the warmth of his body her head against his shoulder. He knows he shouldn’t, but he hugs her anyway, she deserves the comfort and she’s sure as hell not going to get it at home. “I don’t want to go home,” she whispers against his shirt collar, “I’ll be in trouble”. “Alright...well we’ve got to get you cleaned up then.”

She nods. “you’re alright now...you’re safe. I promise”. “I knew you were brave,” she offers a small smile with her watery eyes and a pink nose.

He drives to Brooklyn. To his home.

“Is this where you live?” Y/N asks quietly as he helps her from the car. “Yes”. Inside, the house is warm. There’s soup cooking on the stove and music plays from the radio in the living room.

“Ma? We have a guest!” “Steve, I’ve told you you’re not a gues--” his mother pauses as she rounds the kitchen door, “You’re not Steve”. Y/N shakes her head, “No, Ma’am”. She moves closer to Bucky’s side, her hand still held tightly to her chest. “Ma, this is Y/N. Y/N this is my mother, Winnifred”. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Barnes,” Y/N sniffles holding back tears. “we’re going to get Y/N cleaned up so I can take her back home. She’s had a hard day”. Winnifred nods feeling sorry for the girl. “Is Becca home?” Bucky asks. “up in her room”.

Bucky guides Y/N the stairs to the washroom sitting her on the edge of the bathtub. “I’ll be right back”.

Y/N hears a knock on what she assumes in Becca’s door. When Bucky returns he has a new pair of stockings and a face towel in his hand. He sets them aside, rummaging under the sink for the first aid kit his mother put together. Wetting the towel he dabs gently at the wound on Y/N’s knee. When it’s clean he wrings out the towel before wetting it again, he holds his hand out towards the girl. Nervously she extends her left-hand palm up. It’s caked in blood and dirt, but he can see the shard of glass in her palm. “I’ll be careful, I promise,” he tells her, making sure their eyes meet. “I trust you”.

_________________________

It’s the night of the gala. Her dress feels too tight. The clip her mother put in her hair is digging uncomfortably against her scalp. Her hands are sweaty in her long silk gloves and the scab on her palm from where Bucky removed the glass shard is an itchy reminder of how much she hates the company she’s about to be in. She had tried sneaking out the back door of the restaurant to avoid Robert Redding who had conveniently been dining in the same restaurant. She knew the moment she saw him it was her mother’s doing, and her friend’s encouragement for her to go over and say hello only lead her to believe that she was in on it too. Not that she was surprised. From the moment Robert had begun visiting the estate with his father in June Y/N knew her parents planned on having them married. Without her brother around to inherit her father’s company and estate, Y/N would have to marry well, and who better than the son of her father’s vice-president. There was a sinking feeling in Y/N’s stomach when her mother asked her not to wear any rings to the gala, saying they might be a distracting from the main attraction. But, Y/N doesn’t want the ring she knows Robert is going to give her. He’s good looking enough and nice enough, but he’s dense and condescending. Y/N wants more. She wants the rugged and handsome and hard-working, honest and brave. Not the man who has had everything handed to him, the man who shied away from service when the world was begging for soldiers, Not the man who is going to trap her in an endless cycle of fake smiles and tea parties.

She can hear her parents in their bedroom getting ready for the night. Martin her father’s other driver is waiting in the car downstairs. Looking out the window she can see Bucky getting in his own car ready to head home for the night. Quietly she makes her way down the stairs and out the kitchen door.

“Bucky” she startles him. “What are you doing out here? You should be inside, you’re going to get your dress dirty”

She did buy a red dress, and she looked like a dream. Bucky knows she’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, but he tries not to look too long, he’s heard the gossip around the house, he knows you’re meant to be engaged to Robert Redding tonight. “I want to go to Brooklyn” “what?” “Take me away from here please?” damn her and her eyes, how could he ever say no. “You’re parent’s aren’t going to like this, and Robert isn’t likely to ask you to marry him a second time” “I don’t care. I don’t want to marry him”. Bucky nods, opening the passenger seat door for her.

and so they speed off towards his home, where her new friend Rebecca and the lovely Winnifred wait.

She learns to cook and to sew, she helps make ends meet helping Winnifred with her laundry business. She puts her fancy education to good use and starts to teach. She reads all the books that she wants, she gets to sit in the front seat of Bucky’s car any time she wants. And she gets to marry the hard-working honest man from Brooklyn that she really wanted.

Author’s note: Sorry the end is rushed, it’s super late here now and I knew I’d never finish it if I let it wait until tomorrow. anyway, let me know what you think!

#bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #1940s!bucky #40s bucky

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