#hello here you get . every german name ever to exist. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hacked-by-jake · 3 years ago

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Hey Ho! :D

You will always find this post in my blog description.🥰

(Well, since there’s not really much information about me, here’s a post of things you’ve been interested in and some facts about me.)

(Thanks to the Anon for the motivation to do this here! <3)

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So, Hi! You can call me HBJ! I don’t want to mention my real name and age here. 😁

I started publishing my fanfictions here on Tumblr a little over a year ago and haven’t left since. xD

My mother tongue is not English, I am from Germany. So if you find some mistakes, please excuse it, I’m doing my best and still learning. <3

I honestly have no idea what to write here so, have fun, if anyone reads through this here. 😂 At least that’s a little bit of me. :D

>The Ask Box is always open. So feel free to ask a question if you are interested (but I want to warn you, I am not answering everything, but I will let you know in this case) < <3

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Let's start! ❤️🌹🎭

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First of all 10 Random Facts about me. This was asked by an anon. Here is the original post.

I’m a giant nerd, there’s no place in my room that’s not full of merchandise.

I prefer to read stories that are self-published, for example here on Tumblr or on other sites, rather than real books.

I have a problem with jackets, I have tons of them.

I usually dye my hair according to the colors of characters I like.It all started with green/purple - because of the Joker. And the last color I have at the moment is all green because of Joker / Loki from Marvel (Oups)

Almost all tattoos I have are about fictional characters (also Oups)

No one, really nobody knows what books/stories I read because that’s something very private to me.

I listen to music 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Also, it’s hard for me / I don’t like to talk about the music I listen to because this is very intimate for me for some reason.

When I watch a series, it’s at least 2 times behind each other, sometimes more often. But never just once.

Films that I watch for the first time and that excite me, I watch every second that I have time. When the movie is over, I start again unless there are several parts. But then I always watch my favorite one 500 times.

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Random questions from you.

(Asked by @procrastinatingrobin) -One place that you'd like to travel at least once in your life?

---- One of my biggest wishes is (what a cliché xD) New York. For example the “Joker Stairs”, which is one of my biggest dreams. *-*

I would love to travel to a lot of locations from my favorite movies/series.🤭

America in general is a dream for me (a German potato 😂😅).

But there are so many beautiful places to which I want to go. For example, I would love to travel to Tenerife. I know someone who lives there and every time I see pictures I get very jealous. xD

Unfortunately, I’m incredibly afraid of flying, so if that doesn’t improve, I’ll never get anywhere near these places.😫😂😂

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(Asked by Anon) How many tattoos do you have?😄

I love tattoo questions. 😂🤭At the moment I have eleven tattoos🥰

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(Asked by Anon) -What's your favorite animal?

Hmmm I don’t really know, I think they are dogs because I have a dog now. *-* But to be honest, turtles are so cool.🤔 My brother has a turtle named: Schiggy (based on Pokémon)🤭

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(Asked by Anon) -The stupidest thing that ever happened to you?

Ohhh hahaha there I have something good!😅Story Time with Hbj xD

Okay: As some might know, I’m a big fan of The Joker by DC.🃏Well, in 2019, the Joker movie with Joaquin Phoenix came to the cinemas and I was at the cinema premiere with my best friend. And the movie was absolutely amazing. I really wanted to watch the movie again..Aaaaand I was lucky because my best friend’s boyfriend also wanted to see the movie in the cinema so I went back to the cinema 5 days later to watch the movie again. I was so excited and so extremely happy that I trembled and could not stand still. xD And for these two reasons, I accidentally dropped my not really old phone. It just fell straight down on the stones in front of the cinema and the display was completely broken..Well, what can I say? I needed a new one.. 😂😅But the movie was still fantastic!😍🤭This is actually one of the stupidest things that ever happened to me. xD

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(Asked by @kyras-things) What are the little things that make your day happiest?

Oh that’s a really nice question! *-*Well, I have really little things that can make me happy. :)-It is enough for me when I wake up tomorrow and see my merchandise shelf😅 (This is right in front of my bed)This is for most something really small but for me really great and makes me happy. <3Other things are music, stroking my dog, messages on my phone, my hair color, my tattoos, when the sun is shining in the morning, coffee, riding longboard and of course (yes this is my absolute serious and not only so therefore said) tumblr and thus at the same time Duskwood. 💕I think these are the most important things. 🤭All I need is to see something that matters to me.😅🥰

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(Asked by @leetjep) Seriously....Do you ever sleep?

Very rarely😂 Last time I slept was in fall.😂

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(Asked by Anon) Ios or android?

Only related to the phone: Android.Yes, I stand by it!😂

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(Asked by @booklover-01040) Hello!I was wondering have you got any paranormal or creepy experiences? If no, then a nightmare that you will never forget.

Hey Ho! In fact, I haven’t experienced any paranormal things. Which is probably also because I don’t believe in that and I’ve found a rational cause for everything so far. (Important: I don’t believe in it, but I don’t say it doesn’t exist, I don’t want anyone to feel attacked)

And a nightmare I’ll never forget? In fact, I can’t think of any one. There’s a dream I’ve have since I was a kid: It’s about two little wolves trying to eat me. xD And I can even tell where that came from.

The movie to blame for this is: Twilight xD

Yep… When I first watched this movie, I was way too young, and as a child I was always very anxious. Just such things and horror movies in general were terrible for me (today it is actually no longer so) (Even the dream is no longer bad today and yet it has a bitter aftertaste of childhood.)

In any case, I was much too young and that did not let me go back then. xD But a really unsettling dream I had was: Well.. Do you know the Pink Panther? 😂

I once dreamed that the Panther “chased” me through an endless long corridor. It was an endless corridor in pink with countless doors. He sang the theme song and threw clocks at me…😅 And that went on all night until I woke up.

(This, by the way, had a trigger too. A German song (the rapper only took the melody of the title music and wrote his own lyrics. The text isn’t really cool though and that’s the reason)

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(Asked by @dreamer-writer-fangirl) What color is your hair?

Well, at the moment my hair is green🤭

Check HERE and HERE for pictures.

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(Asked by Anon) Is your brother younger or older than you?🤗

My brother is older than me.🥰

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(Asked by Anon) Do you have a nickname?

Yes, actually I have one. I can even say it because it has nothing to do with my real name. :D But please don’t laugh at me. 😂Well, I have the loving nickname: Little Onion. yep…My mom gave me that name for some reasons. 😂

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(Asked by Anon) some information about your dancing?😄 you mentioned it a few days ago💃

Yeah, well, I danced for 13 years, in different groups, also several groups at the same time. :D It was the hip hop/breakdance direction. But at some point I stopped because I didn’t enjoy it in the groups anymore and time was getting tighter. :/ Unfortunately, there was and is no real other groups here, which is why I stopped completely and now only dance for myself and just for fun.🤭

(Asked by Anon) What's your favourite food ?

Uhhhm, I think everything with pasta is my favorite food.😂 I can eat noodles all day. 🤭🍝🍜Well, and of course, Pizza!🍕Pizza is adorable. 😂

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(Asked by Anon) What type of video games do you like to play?

I don’t really have a favorite type / genre, I don’t play video games that often. I’m actually playing what looks exciting to me without any particular genre or type. 😁🤭

But if I do, I guess I’m the most Nintendo type. So most of the games I play are related to Nintendo. <3

(Asked by @mirajane01040-duskwoodmemes) Do you play... Minecraft?

I used to play a lot of Minecraft, but nowadays not so much, and if so, then only the mobile version. This is fun for in between and dispels the boredom. I even started building Duskwood several times, but never finished it. xD Well, yes, sometimes I play Minecraft.

Answer a few days later: Yes, I do!

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(Asked by Anon) If you could be a fictional character, who would it be and why?

Oh, there are a few. xDBut the three main characters for me: Evey Hammond because of V for Vendetta. Harley Quinn because of The Joker. And, of course, my MC because of Jake. 🤭I know, very superficial reasons but I hope they are enough for you, because these are the main reasons xD 😅🤭

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(Asked by Anon) Hey hbj i'm curiousFamily or a career? 😋

I choose the career.🤭 After that, there is still enough time, and who says that not both work?😉

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(Asked by Anon) do you like alcohol?🍷

No, absolutely no. Not a little bit.

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(Asked by Anon) What is your favorite drink?

If I don’t drink coffee, I only drink sparkling water, my entire life. I very rarely drink something different. Water for life! 🧊

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Either/or questions from you.

(Asked by @duskwood-legacies) -What would you rather see, Northern Lights or sky lanterns?

That’s easy for me🤭 Northern Lights! If you ask me.. that is magical! *-* (Well, unless it’s like “Tangled” and I get a Flynn Rider.. then sky lanterns xD)

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(Asked by @duskwood-legacies) -Strawberries or raspberries?

Definitely: Strawberries🍓 *-*

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(Asked by@duskwood-legacies) Do you prefer angst or fluff?

I think it depends on the general mood I’m in.🤔 I think the best is angst with happy ending.😁

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(Asked by@duskwood-legacies) Milk or cereal first?

Obviously: Cereal first! 😂🥣

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(Asked by @justubi) Would you rather have a nosy neighbor pr noisy neighbor?

Unfortunately, I have both. xD But if I could choose, I would opt for the noisy neighbor as I wear headphones all day anyway.😂

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(Asked by @justubi) Would you rather be poor but love your job or rich but absolutely hate your job?

One hundred percent and without having to think about: poor and love my job!I could never have a job I don’t like. This is a real horror imagination for me😂

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(Asked by @kyras-things ) Prefer to write fanfics or read them?

Oh that’s a really hard question for me! 🤔 I can’t really make up my mind, but I think I’d rather read than write myself. With stories of others I can better dive into another world and relax. 🤭Because when I write, five hundred other thoughts always fly around in my head and I have to decide how to write something etc.I love writing but sometimes I wish I only had to think about a story and it would be written on a sheet right away. xD <3

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(Asked by @leetjep) Would you rather have one eye in the middle of your head or two noses?

I take the eye in the middle of my head. 😂Then I would make the Jake eye as a tattoo around it, which would be really cool.🤭

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(Continues on new asks)

#It's me :)#personal #hbj talks #about me #have fun lol

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pumpkinpaix · 4 years ago

Audio

anonymous:

I just discovered your mdzs pronunciation stuff and it's super helpful!!! Especially to an english speaker, it's so helpful to hear everything pronounced slowly! Would you ever consider doing more but on Chinese basics? Like tones, or differences between similar sounds? (But please don't feel obligated! Just a suggestion bc I find your pronunciation super helpful :)

hhhhh the file was too big for tumblr :’) even after I exported it at medium instead of standard quality, so i made a soundcloud after all aha.... it’s downloadable, even!

anyways! chinese school with cyan? :D transcript with helpful links under the cut.

previous chinese pronunciation posts with pinyin if you want to go back review them armed with new knowledge to practice: mdzs names 1, mdzs names 2

rough transcript (brackets indicate things i didn’t say but wanted to add as a note, or laughs lol):

hello everyone! okay, so I’m going to make an attempt to do some basic pinyin, I guess, a basic pinyin post? so the goal is by the end you should be able to hopefully! look at basic pinyin or any pinyin word and get a general sense of how it might sound. this is not comprehensive, and you shouldn’t take it as such, but i hope you might be able to get a good foundation out of it? I don’t know, just for sort of, a basic general overview.

I’ll use some MDZS words or names or whatever to I guess keep it fun as examples? But the rules should be generally applicable across the board. This is geared towards native English speakers because that’s what I am. I am not a linguist, just a layperson, so I’m going to be explaining like a layperson.

So, this is pinyin with cyan! chinese school with cyan. horrible, I thought i escaped this [laugh] oh, all those horrible saturdays. [all sounds will be read with first tone unless otherwise indicated]

okay, so, I’m going to do the basic vowels first. there are five so it’s: a o e i u ü

so I’ll do that a — oh wait, no there’s six, oh gosh! okay. bad start! so there are SIX basic vowels: a o e i u ü

so i’ll do that one more time: a o e i u ü

so there’s actually a seventh vowel sound, but we can get to that in a minute. it’s not included in the orthography.

so ü is usually the hardest for native english speakers since it doesn’t exist in english, but a friend of mine recently explained it really well. so if you say “ee” just like, “ee” like in creek or something like that, then shape your lips as if you’re saying “oo”. so if you speak french or german, it might be easier for you, those are just the two languages I’m familiar with. the ü is the same as the ü in german, like in die Tür, in french it’s just like you know, la lune, mur, etc.

basically say “ee” then move your lips until it looks like you’re saying “oo” — eeeeeüüüü or you can do the opposite, you can say “oo” then move your tongue as if it’s saying “ee” so: ooooüüüüüü. ü. and that’s basically it.

so now i’m going to do the initial consonants. that’s all the vowels. but the initial consonants, the consonants, or the consonant sounds that can start words, there are… well there’s not that many, but I’ll go through them really quick. there is an order, and every consonant is associated, every initial consonant is associated with a natural vowel sound and they come in groups. the order that i learned them in is this:

b p m f • d t n l g k h • j q x • z c s zh ch sh r

[repeated slower]

b(o) p(o) m(o) f(o) • d(e) t(e) n(e) l(e) g(e) k(e) h(e) • j(i) q(i) x(i) • z(i) c(i) s(i) zh(i) ch(i) sh(i) r(i)

I think the official one [the official order, i mean] might have the z c s and the zh ch sh r switched, but it doesn’t really matter they’re both in the same group. so you’ll notice that there are only four naturally associated vowels: o e i and ï [not sure if this is technically the right way to write it, but it’s convenient for illustrative purposes here].

so ï is the one that’s with the z c s, zh ch sh r group. I also think this is a pretty hard vowel to pronounce for english speakers, but i don’t really have a handy way of explaining it. i’ll try though!

so for things like the z c s sounds: say “sss” like you would in english. “ssss” then change your lips to the way you say “ee” and then vocalize without moving your tongue. so you can also produce this sound without changing your lip shape, but doing so will kind of force it, or make it easier to find I think. so ssssssi. sssssi. so that was me doing the whole process with saying ssss and then moving my lips and then vocalizing. but i can also do it with my lips rounded. “si”. that’s me with lips rounded, but having the lips wide like that helps i think

[or you can just vocalize “zzzzz” like in “buzz” or “jazz”. that zzzzzz sound gives you the vowel you want. that probably would’ve been an easier way to explain it haha.]

for the zh ch sh r sounds, to get that, you can say “juh” like how you would say j, a j sound in english, so it’s “juh” but dont’ say the “uh” just stick to the “j”. so that’s the zh sound. “zhii” just like hold it. then ch sh r. I don’t know, I think that’s pretty intuitive once you get those.

in terms of the consonants that i think that are difficult, they are d, j q x and z maybe? so i’ll go over them.

so d taps the palate in english, “duh”, “duh”. the d sound, it taps further back on the little bump [on the roof of your mouth] there, but it taps on the teeth in chinese. I think it’s a non-aspirated t sound? so say “tuh” but then instead of having that breath, just take that out. “de”. it’s a non-aspirated t, it taps in the same spot. so that’s the d, the “de” sound.

j q x, it’s the same sort of things, if you stretch your lips, I think i helps to move it into the right space. so instead of “juh” it’s “ji”. “ji”. “ji ji ji ji”. “qi”, “xi”. the q has the “ch” sound, but instead of sitting so far in the front, it sits a little further back [in the mouth]. instead of “ch” which is the ch, it’s “qi”, which is moving further back. and same with “xi”. instead of “sh” it’s “x”. i don’t know if that helps [laugh]. but instead of “sh” it’s “x”. so “xi”.

again, instead of “ch” it’s “q” and instead of “sh” it’s “x” [laugh]

[I forgot to talk about z oops. it’s basically a combination of d and z in english: “dz”. like the end of “hands”. that “dz” sound.]

okay, so, you can start a word with any of the vowels, any of them can be initials, but some of them will change orthography when they’re at the start of a word. so i think it’s pretty intuitive, but a o e all stay the same. but the “i” sound, the i, turns into a y, the “u”, the u, turns into a w, and the “ü”, the ü turns into yu. so “yu”.

okay, so that’s all the initials! that’s it! that’s not too bad.

okay, so now I’m going to start doing the finals, like the ends of words. you can end any word with any of the vowels, but I’m going to include them anyways because it’s in the table. i just copied this table from wikipedia because it’s i think pretty intuitive and clearly stated. they show both how the sound would be written as a full word and how it would be spelled when it was attached to an initial. so basically what i just talked about regarding changing orthography when you start a word with vowels, things like that.

[link to table in wikipedia]

okay starting with the first row, I’m pretty sure this is ï. the i sound that i said was difficult:

[row 1]

so I’m going to do that again. I’m going to do each one twice and then we’re going to move onto the second row.

[row 1 repeated, each sound twice]

okay, now the second row:

[row 2]

so we’re going to do the same thing again, twice each:

[row 2 repeated, each sound twice]

okay, and the third row:

[row 3]

and again, twice each:

[row 3 repeated, each sound twice]

and then the final row:

[row 4]

and then one more time, twice each:

[row 4 repeated, each sound twice]

okay so that’s it, that’s all the finals I think.

so I think -(i)un/yun is probably one of the harder sounds, the -un with the y at the beginning, the -iun? “yun”, with the umlaut. I don’t really know how to explain how to pronounce that one, but you know it’s the… yun [laugh]

okay so a note on u vs ü. when a word begins with j q x or y, and it’s followed by a u, it’s automatically be pronounced as ü even though it will not be marked. so here are some examples.

names like Ā’Yuàn: yuàn. it’s a ü sound automatically, and it’s not marked in the orthography. or Yú Zǐyuān. yú zǐ yuān. same thing. and then with something like in hánguāng-jūn, jūn, the j the “ji” combined with the -un becomes “jun” like the “yun” sound. or Jīn Zixuān. Xuān. Xuān. it’s the ü sound.

so an example of the same final spellings but with different initials. like the yuàn in ā’yuàn — you can see it automatically changes to an ü pronunciation, but spelled the same way the -uan ending, but you have a different starting consonant that’s not one of the exceptions, so “le” — so in luànzàng gǎng. luàn. it’s “u”. luàn. and then for like yú, yú zǐyuān, yú, instead of the ü, in jīn rúlán, rú, rú, it’s the “u” sound, and they’re marked the same way.

okay! yeah that’s pretty much it. that’s like all the basic sounds in chinese, I’m pretty sure. [laugh] it’s not actually that hard. i mean, it’s obviously hard, but there’s not as many sounds as you expect, or it’s less complex than you might think.

so obviously now we have to deal with tones. i know this is the one that everybody finds really scary, but i actually i know it’s easy for me to say because i’m a native speaker, but i actually think they’re very intuitive and easy to hear, as tones go. it’s gonna be fine. anyways, we’re gonna get through it.

here is how i remember tones: I do it with a cadence. and i literally sometimes have to go through this cadence on words when i’m not sure how to identify what tone they are. this is how i learned it, my grandmother taught me this, you know, i mean, it’s very standard, but:

ā á ǎ à

or hummed it’s: ¯ ´ ˇ `

and then I’ll do it again:

ā á ǎ à

¯ ´ ˇ `

so yeah, i really do sing it sometimes when i’m trying to figure out or remember what tone mark goes on something, I go dūh dúh dǔh dùh [laugh] over and over again until i figure it out.

and yeah, that’s it! they’re pretty intuitive, they follow the path of the tone, or the shape of the tone markers. so you can see the ā is flat, the á goes up, the ǎ goes down and then up, ǎ, and then à, the fourth one, just goes down.

so whenever you’re writing a tone mark on a word, they always go on the last vowel UNLESS there’s an a or e present. those always take precedence. I’ll spell out a couple of examples in the text.

[EXAMPLES: hào not haò and méi not meí, but jiù]

[laugh]

so i will go over, um… okay, i think my dad’s having a meeting downstairs, so maybe you’ll hear him in the background, but okay, the last thing i will go over a couple of sandhi rules, just a few! this isn’t all of them, i think there might be five? but i’m just going to do the three that are most relevant or the most commonly seen I think, or the ones that I think about that will trip you up most likely, i think, when you’re pronouncing things.

so the one that everybody knows, or the one that everybody teaches first, i think is the two third tones in a row will cause the first third tone to turn into a second tone. so for example, in Yílíng Lǎozǔ. “Láozǔ”. the two characters by themselves are lǎo and zǔ, but because they’re right next to each other, it becomes láo, second tone, “láozǔ”. [NOTE: the pinyin will still be spelled as lǎozǔ. you will just automatically read it aloud as láozǔ] so instead of “lǎo zǔ”, it’s “láozǔ”.

and then, the second thing that a third tone does is that a third tone that is followed by anything that is not a third tone drops to a thing that is called a low tone, I know i said there are only four, but this is… here’s an example. [there is also the soft tone, which is kind of the absence of tone, but I’m not going to talk about it here haha] in liǎnfāng-zūn, jin guangyao’s title.

liǎnfāng-zūn, you can kinda hear it doesn’t really rise again at the liǎn, liǎn, liǎn, by itself it goes down up, like a valley, but when it’s followed by the rest of the title, liǎnfāng-zūn, it just kinda sits at the bottom and then jumps back up. liǎnfāng-zūn, liǎnfāng-zūn, it just kind of sits at the bottom as opposed to coming back up, so it’s still. it still follows the same curve, it just doesn’t quite come back up i think

i actually had to look that one up, because I was like. oh is that real? i hadn’t noticed it.

but the third tone on its own is just the third tone, so for example, in xuē yáng’s courtesy name, xuē chéngměi, měi, you can hear it there, it comes back up—oh birds!

so xuē chéngměi, měi. dǔh. [laugh]

[LOL I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT THE THIRD SANDHI RULE I WAS GONNA TALK ABOUT. you can read about it in the link to sandhi rules i’m going to post at the end of the post.]

so yeah, that’s pretty much it actually! hooray! I’m sure, I mean, chinese is a whole language, so it’s complicated, this won’t really get you to a point where you can read pinyin entirely, but i think those are like the basic rules that i use when i’m reading pinyin, but of course, i’ve been reading pinyin for a really long time, that was the primary way i engaged with chinese text for many many years because i was illiterate! i’m still pretty illiterate, but that’s okay. i’m getting better! but yeah, so like i said, this isn’t comprehensive. if it was horribly confusing, if there was stuff in it that just didn’t make any sense, you can ask me questions! I will try to answer them. my brother’s coming home today, and i’ve been using his desk to record because his room has been empty, so i’ll have to figure out something else. but for now, um, yeah!

okay, bye. :)

/end transcript

okay!! so here are the promised links:

tone sandhi rules

very useful interactive table where you can click on sounds to hear them read aloud! (linked to me by @nerd-bastard thank you so much!)

obviously the wikipedia page is very good, though it’s a little dense

@tonyglowheart sent me a thread of someone reading out mxtx names on twitter here! the reader has a different accent than i do (they say they sound like they’re from the northern mainland. i would guess my accent is probably closer to something near shanghai? since I learned pronunciation from my grandmother, and then of course tempered by my american upbringing)

I would probably recommend going back to the other pronunciation posts I made to see a variation of sounds written out with different tones? i feel like that would be helpful!

anyways WOO thanks for your patience, it’s been a minute. brain’s doing kinda oomf these days, but we’re gonna make it :’) state of the world is. something.

normally i would just link my ko-fi here, but this time, i’m going to say check out my donations tag or do your own research into someplace more in need to put your money instead. :)

#chinese #learning chinese #mdzs #pinyin #chinese pronunciation #cyan chinese school #lmfao #new tag i guess #mine #my voice #i have NO idea how useful this is but at this point #*yeets into the void*#long post #cyan help desk #cyan vs heritage #statistically average

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bidean-byedean · 4 years ago

Text

new piece on AO3

xvi. family

Day 16 of the SPN advent calendar (not festive)

You stop for the night.

Rated: G // Tags: second person POV, outsider POV, finale denialist, post-canon/canon divergent, bar owner Dean, everyone is alive and in love, domestic fluff // Ships: Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen, Claire/Kaia // Word count: 5.6k

The bar is unassuming, gentle, welcoming. Tucked away but easy to find, if you’re looking. It’s still the midwest after all. Dean knows how much it looks like the old haunt; some of it deliberately mimicked, some of it inevitable features of the genre, some of it only became apparent in certain lights, like a ghostly apparition in a foggy bathroom mirror. These things that were hidden until Sam laid eyes on the place for the first time, or an old regular froze in the doorway, or after hours when Dean is cleaning up and swears he heard Jo’s soft giggle.

When this happens, he pauses. Braced against the reclaimed wood of the bar, desperately straining his ears into the nothingness, begging for one more note. It’s only when a warm hand settles on his shoulder, always his left, somehow always, that he realises what he’s doing. There’s only one place that his prayers echo out anymore and all they do is remind Cas of all the things that Dean has lost, of all the parts of Dean’s life that he did not know, that he cannot restore. But at least now the old Hunter does not flinch at his touch. His body relaxes into the large, steady hand; grounded, brought back to the present where Jo’s laughter is an eternal echo that makes it neither real nor unreal. If their lives had taught them anything, the distinction is arbitrary.

Cas helps him collect the last of the glasses, stacking them into long, precarious towers. Not as tall as the ones Dean makes; he’s not as easy in his body, not as used to being observed, and he hates the sound of shattering glass, hates the silence afterwards, hates that moment of momentum when the breaking is about to happen and is happening and has happened. For angels, it’s always about to happen and happening and happened. Or, it used to be like that. When and so it is written meant something. Before, when it was Castiel and Dean Winchester, not now, in the after, when it is Cas and Dean.

There’s something deeply absurd happening here. You feel it when you first visit and you realise. Pulling off of a hunt in nowhere middle America, aching in your bones and, depending on what you killed, your heart, and you remember that Dean Winchester - yeah, that Dean Winchester - opened a bar around here. It’s already ridiculous, considering the things you’ve heard. Only half of them can be true, mostly the half that you can reconcile with your understanding of the truth.

John Winchester’s boy? Haven’t you heard?

Haven’t you heard he has a face you’d pay twice the going rate for? Haven’t you heard he’ll take it? Haven’t you heard he’s the best Hunter of his age? Haven’t you heard he sold his soul? Haven’t you heard an angel brought him back? Haven’t you heard he lost it again? To John? To the devil? To God? Haven’t you heard he was the most feared monster in Purgatory? Haven’t you heard losing his soul was nothing compared to losing his brother, to losing his angel, to losing his angel again, and again, and again?

Haven’t you heard? They’re in love.

So you roll up to the door of the bar and it just looks like a bar because the warding is painted beneath the sign holding the name, and the devil’s trap is in the shadows of the ceiling, and hex bags are stowed inside of the cushions of the stools, and a silver rosary consecrated by softly sung blessings, murmured by the human mouth of an Angel, sits in the water tank. Even if you know, you do not know. But you feel safe here, that is the point, the commandment of the space; welcome and be welcomed. And maybe you sit at the bar, tired and alone and lonely, surrounded (for the first time?) by people with whom you can speak freely and you realise the weight of speaking in code, always hiding, bearing a burden that sears into your soul until you’re not sure you have one anymore. You hear they burn out, that you can use them up, and then what are you?

But tonight you’re safe behind the warding and in front of a bar with a surprisingly pretentious beer menu and burgers that come with avocado and the word seasonal in front of some of the offerings. But there are people you’re familiar with, even if you don’t know them, you know them. Their faces hold the same weariness, their clothes practical or incongruous by design, masks and costumes and performances, all finally relaxed. So relax.

Maybe you haven’t seen him since before John died, or before he went to Hell, or before he killed God(?), but that doesn’t matter. Maybe you read the books, enjoying being in the know, enjoying that you enjoy them differently from all the other people that enjoy them, for better reasons. Maybe his name is a myth passed from Hunter to Hunter, monster to monster, or between the two (is there a two? You try not to think about this too much). Older now, so much older than he could’ve ever hoped for. Masculine in every way you hope to be masculine, if you really understand what it means, but by hoping and understanding you fail. He’s tall and broad shouldered, and wears a flannel shirt over a band tshirt and dishtowel over his shoulder, and his jaw is sharp and hard and stubbled, and his eyes framed by deep crow’s feet; he sees you and you feel seen. His forearms are too tanned for the season, but you’re distracted by how they flex under the skin, and his hands are big and rest on the wood in front of you, just hands now, but they might as well be an armoury for all the death they’ve caused.

So, maybe you’re suddenly afraid because the things you didn’t want to be true? Suddenly reality has shifted and not only do they reconcile with the truth, they are immutable from it, it is more impossible that impossible things don’t happen to this man.

Then he smiles.

“What can I get ya?”

His voice is so low it’s like traffic from a highway just out of sight from your motel room, that when you lie in the dark becomes part of your body, as essential to your existence as the thudding of your heart and the huffing of your lungs and the buzzing from the dying lights in the walkway outside. It’s atomic. It’s celestial.

Wasn’t the other one supposed to be an angel?

You don’t know. You’re not used to having choices. Simple choices, selfish ones, luxurious ones: if you want fries or steak-cut chips, American or Swiss, IPA or stout or lager, light or dark, or spirits. It embarrasses you, how difficult it is, in the face of meaninglessness, how do you fare?

“Just a beer, man.”

“I gotcha,” he tips his chin understandingly and gets to work.

Probably gets this all the time, an understood consequence of stepping outside of the comfort zone. Your comfort zone, not his, you realise. This is his domain, his playground, his paradise on Earth, as was the promised bounty for fighting on humanity’s side in the war. The one no one else had to fight in because he did.

Did he still have the sword?

‘German pilsner.”

“It’s good.”

His smile seems genuine and so is your surprise.

“What you here for?”

You keep your eyes on his, if you blink, you’ll see it again. “Shifter. Of a sort.”

“Mmm.”

“Then home.”

That catches his interest. “Where’s home?”

“Iowa.”

Then he opens the ground beneath you: “Who’s home?”

“Whoever’s left.”

He grunts appreciatively, his gaze flickering over his shoulder. You notice the bands on his fingers. Silver, you assume pure, but it catches the light in a way that isn’t quite right, you stare at it. He twists it with his thumb, an unconscious habit, a soothing touch, a comfort. Even a Winchester needs comforts. It’s a comfort in of itself.

A young woman, her blonde hair half-braided and threaded with metal, slides over the top of the bar, her leather trousers giving her enough slip over the wood. Her heavy boots thud onto the ground and she grins manically at his frown.

“What have I told you about-“

“Yeah, yeah, nice to see you too, old man.”

She kisses him on the cheek, he rolls his eyes, but leans into it, his mouth quirking upwards at the corners. Another woman appears, dark skinned and soft-eyed, she walked around the bar, civilised and grounded. The blonde throws her arm over her shoulders, you remember who they are: Claire and Kaia Nieves. The daughter of an Angel and a Dreamwalker. You heard they spared a family of werewolves on the West coast, you heard there’s a network for them, monsters who are not monstrous. You don’t like to think about what that means for you. The things you’ve done.

“Where is he?” He gestures to the back and they disappear. He looks after them, his face soft and open; you can’t imagine him torturing souls in Hell.

There are pockets of people throughout the bar: loners like you, pairs and trios quietly nursing their sustenance, groups crowding round tables, pulling chairs from elsewhere or standing when there are none free. They’re loud and joyful and free. Is it better to have a crowd? Is it enough to be adjacent? You’re not sure you have the energy to socialise, to make nice, maybe next time.

Someone enters and everyone’s heads turn, he’s called over to different tables, dropping by to say hello to everyone who calls his name: Sam fucking Winchester! He’s tall, made even taller by the short woman by his side, and their hands move animatedly as they talk, too precise, too many deliberate gestures to just be physicality. He watches her when she speaks, her voice is rounded and deliberate. Eileen Leahy. A Deaf Hunter. You remember someone telling you she was eaten by Hellhounds, dragged into the pit, and brought back by Sam, his magic, his love, willing to transcend the boundaries of life, upset the balance of the universe: all for her. You feel ashamed for wondering how she made it far enough to meet the Winchesters. It’s a fair question of any Hunter, the answer the same: in their own way. No one survives because they have all the makings of a Hunter, a preset list of requirements that they meet; you survive because you face the job with what you have and you do what you have to.

Dean salutes her playfully, she smiles so wide it looks like it hurts. You can’t remember the last time you smiled like that, the last time you felt pain that didn’t hurt. She sits at the bar and Sam sits next to her, towering and gentle. You remember him. The Boy King. No longer a boy, his throne abdicated. Does he really have demon blood coursing through his veins? Hell is closed up now, sometimes a demon pops up here and there, but not like before, when the world was full of them, when all you did was exorcise and pray and holy water became a currency and left most of the community ordained ministers from variously dubious sites of divine origin, consecrated ground became the last stronghold against the end of the world. The future placed in the hands of Sam Winchester. Now you know the face. You struggle to imagine the Devil in his eyes, not when you’ve seen true evil.

The Winchesters are not similar enough to be clocked as brothers. But there’s something in the tilt of their shoulders and their hazel green eyes and the cadence of their voices that suggests kinship, brotherhood, forged in the fires of Hell and gilded by the light of Heaven. They’re just men, you realise. Earthly and solid and real, no more myth than the one you beheaded just the other night, it’s blood as real as the blood that marks them Winchester. Just like anyone else.

“Isn’t Claire supposed to be helping out?”

Dean sighs. “She’s upstairs. Giving her a minute, she hasn’t been around in months.” You think he sounds upset. “Typical.”

“It’s a good thing, Dean,” Sam pushes. “Her and Kaia are doing a hundred times better than we would’ve.”

“We?” He snorts. “At their age you were smoking oregano with your bougie friends. I was actually saving people.”

Sam pulls a face. “You’re such a jerk.”

“And you’re a bitch,” he signs it big and deliberate, winking at Eileen. “Hey, want another?”

It takes a second for you to realise he’s talking to you, by then all three of them have their attention on you, openly appraising you. You wonder what they read in your posture, your face, the way you’ve ripped a paper napkin into tiny shreds.

“Any other recommendations?”

“Got a new dark in, like dessert in a glass.” He looks at Sam: “Finally found an apiarist to work with.”

“Apiarist?” You venture.

Dean looks towards the door that leads to the mysterious back. “Bee keeper. My-“ He pauses abruptly. “He likes bees.”

My. He.

Perhaps you don’t mean to, but you eyes flicker to the rainbow flag over the doorway. You notice more stuck in glasses on the shelves, some of them rainbow, some of the blue-purple-pink bands, some of them orange-white-pink. What is it like? You know what people say behind his back, what they’ve always said, the people in the know. The men who had paid for a moment with Dean Winchester, the men who had gotten one for free, the men who had hoped for either, for anything. They still call him names. If only John could see him now. John always knew he was a disappointment. Wouldn’t be like this if John were alive.

That doesn’t seem fair. You didn’t know John Winchester, most people didn’t. He died so long ago and Hunters have a quick turnaround, reblooded often, rarely more than a decade of history able to be told first-hand. Dean watches you and your eyes and you wonder what he’ll do, if you became a threat, how does he eliminate threats now? You shiver at the thought. You let wistfulness seep through. You try to convey the kinship. The I see me in you and you in me. The you fascinate me the same way a shadow does. The show me your throat and I’ll show you mine. The secret language you’ve learnt to speak. The other one. Hidden even beneath the Hunter’s code. The more forbidden one. The one of monsters like you. Like us.

It must work because he softens. He pours the dessert in a glass even though you didn’t order it and places it in front of you, next to the glass he places something small and shiny, he doesn’t wait for you to acknowledge it. It’s a metal pin. The silver knotted into a symbol you don’t know, impressively intricate for the size, and when you hold it, it feels unusually warm. You remember the way Dean’s ring caught the light, throwing it more than it should, almost giving off its own light, almost glowing. Whatever it is made of, this is its sibling. You pin it to your jacket, on the left lapel, the proximity to your heart neither deliberate nor indeliberate. It pleases him. You pleased him.

The drink is good, better than the last. Truthfully, you don’t like beer that much, but it’s easy and universal and unassuming. This isn’t beer, not in that way. It’s smooth and creamy and sweet, it rolls around on your tongue, asking to be tasted, not to be drunk. The honey has that sharpness of real, pure honey, the slight antiseptic burn you get from eating it straight from the jar. You remember eating honey from a jar, a chunk of comb suspended in the golden substance. You didn’t know it meant so much to you.

“Finally!”

“Get off my dick,” Claire bats back.

“Who the fuck taught you to be so rude?”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s no sense of upset between them. “What do you want with me?”

“Glasses.”

“Ughh, are you serious?”

“As a werepire.”

“There is no such thing as a werepire,” a new voice cuts in. It’s grumbling like Dean’s, somehow more gravelly; do they communicate in earthquakes? “Stop trying to make werepire happen.”

Castiel.

You gasp before you can stop yourself. An Angel of the Lord, walking on Earth, living above a bar instead of Heaven. He’s nothing that you expect. Tall and commanding, but different from Dean and Sam, the same, but somehow very not. His eyes are bright and intense, as blue as the deepest sky, the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen, a blue that you never thought possible until right this second. You feel as if you should look away, as if seeing beneath a hair covering, something sacred and prized, something that is not for public consumption, only God’s eyes. Only Dean Winchester’s eyes. What is the difference now? Is this bar paradise? Where is the divinity in craft beer and crude hunters, clawing out a life on the edges of society, wading through the horror in the hope of retaining peace, but not for yourselves. Nothing is for yourself.

Except they have claimed each other. You heard Dean is branded, a scar of a handprint seared into his skin, a memento from when they met. They met in Hell. Castiel touched his soul and raised him from Hell and fell in love with him, literally fell. Who would love you if they had seen your soul? Seen the personal realm of Hell you curated? Can you even love yourself?

Doesn’t it leave you breathless?

And then the picture shifts. Castiel turns and you see a child, old enough to walk, but small enough to get away with demanding not to. It’s balanced on the Angel’s hip like it belongs there, like his body (is it his? Who did it belong to? Are they still there? Did they ask for this?) was made to hold it there. Dean ruffles their hair, their ambiguity is intriguing, refreshing for the Hunting community. Youth is a clean slate, you are never more full of options, full of potential, which slowly seeps from you as your choices narrow, as life demands decisions, assigns decisions, weighs you down with expectations and being perceived, an object for perception rather than existence.

You’ve heard about the child. A nephil. But no one knows the details. No one is brave enough to ask.

The child reaches for Dean and is pulled into his arms, plastered against his chest, small and content and belonging. You wonder what their life will be like. Will they be a Hunter? You doubt it, you doubt the doubt. How do you choose to bring life into this life? It’s too hard, too sad, too lonely, too destructive. Not even dandelions grow through the concrete paving of a Hunter’s solitude, of their broken soul and heart, tings you drag along behind you like a yoke, reminding you that you must keep going, that one day, you will not be able to keep going. The baggage. How do you inflict that on a child? When will this creature’s heart be torn out of its chest and put inside a box and chained shut, only to be your greatest weakness and source of strength?

Or will it be happy?

“You need to go to bed, buddy,” Dean says quietly, his voice so steeped in affection it makes your chest yearn. You can’t help being in earshot. That doesn’t make it right. “Want me? What’s wrong with your Dad?”

The child murmurs something silently.

“Okay. I got you,” his arms seem to tighten. “Cas? We’re going up.”

Cas. It rolls off of his tongue so easily, the repetition of a thousand, a million, making it more at home in his mouth than his own name. An Angel of the Lord called Cas because he stands on Earth, because he is not part of Heaven, because he is of Dean, not of God. He touches the child’s face gently, tenderly, motherly, and you ache for such simple, all-consuming affection, for someone to look at you with the reverence of worship at the altar of a god that speaks back. Castiel’s (because Cas is not for your mouth) hand runs down Dean’s arm, his fingers trailing, prolonging, and when it drops away, Dean leaves.

You’ve nearly finished your dessert in a glass without even realising, it’s good. Too good. You could drink it all night, but you shouldn’t. The list of shouldn’ts is getting too long. You can’t remember anything left that you can do, that doesn’t conflict with an imperative for self-restriction. Where do you have to be? Who is expecting you? What is your next move? Why are you even questioning it?

He notices you.

“Ah, Sweet Dreams. How did you like it?” He tilts his head, a little more than most people would, reminiscent of a puppy, of the velociraptors in that film, assessing your prey potential. You’re aware of his magnitude. You’re aware of your insignificance.

“Very smooth. Filling.”

“That is the problem, but Dean humours me.”

“With the bees?”

He nods seriously. “They’re dying at an alarming rate, you know.”

“I did.”

“Have you been here before?”

“First time.”

“Welcome.”

“Thanks.”

“You look tired. Are you staying the night? We have rooms.”

“Uh-“

“That’s not a proposition,” he adds quickly. “Dean tells me that I sound like I’m hitting on people when I say that.”

You smile at his humanness. “I didn’t feel propositioned.” Would you like to? “I- I usually stay in my car, to be honest.”

His smile falters. “I wouldn’t advise that, it’s very uncomfortable and you’re much safer in here. The warding is some of my best work.”

“You never actually asked if I was a Hunter.” Hoping he’ll smite you?

He narrows his eyes playfully. “I didn’t have to. I know Hunters.”

“You must know everything.”

That catches him off guard. “Not as much as I used to.”

“What?”

Another head tilt. This one is more amused. “I guess news doesn’t travel as fast as you think. I am depowered,” he uses his fingers to make air quotes around the word. He laughs, but it’s a grating, sad sound. “Fallen.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” He shrugs. “So, a room?”

You somehow agree to stay. The rates are reasonable and the weather turned recently, so you know that even if you get some sleep in your car, it’ll be fraught and restless, and a warm bed in the safest place in the US is hard to turn down. You wonder if they’re both always this attentive or if its you, if you’re really that pathetic, if it rolls off of you like a stench, trails after you like blood, someone else, yours. You accept the insistence of kindness from the Angel, former, no, current; he says otherwise, but you see divinity in his eyes, in his smile, in the way that he touched Dean, in the way he held his child.

“Was-“ You swallow and finger the pin that Dean gave you. “Was that your kid?”

Castiel nods happily. “Jack.”

“And Claire?”

Castiel looks across the bar at Claire, laughing loudly and talking in big, dramatic gestures with a group of Hunters. “Yes.”

He doesn’t offer clarification. You feel stupid for wanting some. All of the impossible things you’ve seen, why do you care? Why do you need to know the details? Why does it matter that they are together? That they created a family? Do you think you can too? Do you think you’re as special as Winchester?

He leans on the bar. ‘Claire is my vessel’s daughter. I took her father from her.”

“That’s intense.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“And Jack?”

“He-“ He pauses. “He chose me. You know how are nephil are.”

“Sure…”

“God, he is too good at that.” Dean interrupts loudly, pressing his face into the back of Castiel’s shoulder. “I always fall asleep putting him down.”

Castiel pats his head. “He’s spoilt.”

“Yeah, well, gotta make up for tryna shoot him, huh?” You and Castiel share a look. You do not ask for clarification. “You stayin’?” You nod. “Awesome. Another drink?”

The room spins gently around you, but you’re content to watch the show. It’s not one that would be on TV, but it should be, warm and carefree and soft, it’s the show of a family. They move around each other in a practiced dance; Sam and Eileen and Claire and Kaia and Castiel and Dean. So many of them. All alive. All in love. So much love. It’s hard not to watch Dean and Castiel, they’re captivating. Beautiful. You notice the magnetism, how they’re constantly touching, brushing, holding, pressing, it seems so easy, it would seem so easy if you weren’t watching, but you are, and you see how Dean watches the room, the way he look out before he does something deliberate, the way he pauses, the way he checks himself and checks himself checking himself. Dean tells a joke you don’t catch. Castiel responds by kissing him. You feel like you shouldn’t be watching. Your heart won’t let you look away. They talk an inch from each other’s faces. You wonder what it feels like to love someone like that.

Once you save the world, you can have it too.

God, you’re so tired, it’s a tired that sinks you into the ground, that makes you blood slow and your heart sticky and blinking a dangerous game. You want to see the end of the episode though. You don’t want to miss a moment.

Thud.

“Game over kiddo,” Claire comments when you sit up suddenly. “Past your bedtime.”

“I’m older than you,” you say, or slur, or think.

She laughs. “Sure. You got a room? I’ll show you up.” She frowns. “That’s not a proposition.”

You laugh. “Like father, like daughter.”

Her eyes slide over to the pair. “In all the ways that matter.”

The room is small and cosy: a double bed and thick duvet, a jug of water on the dresser, a small plate with cookies on it.

“Dean makes them,” Claire says as she watches you examine the room. “Don’t tell him I told you, if you remember that is.”

“Not tha’ drunk,” you protest, but the world spins when you close your eyes.

“Uh-huh. If you need anything just, uh, deal with it? This isn’t the Hilton. My D- Dean gets up pretty early, but if you wanna get away there’s like a key box and stuff. Night.”

The door clicks closed and you’re left alone. Your head feels fuzzy and full and empty at the same time, and you wonder how you got here. You wonder it a lot. Every time you’re searching for a hunt, driving to one, checking your weapons, reading the lore, tracking down a creature that has no right to exist.

That has no right not to exist.

For the first time in… well, you can’t even think about it, you sleep well. As soon as you crawl into bed, curled under the heavy duvet, surrounded by warmth and softenss, it creeps into your brain and takes away the tension from your body. You don’t even think to check the room for warding or make an escape plan, the assurance of safety here is like the knowledge that the sun will rise tomorrow, to doubt it seems like an insult to you and the universe. Maybe there is gentleness in the hunting life, a tender hand of comfort and understanding that will offer quiet and healing and rest, between the blood and guts and bones and death. Life.

You have dreams you don’t understand, but they don’t scare you. Nothing hunts you in the dark corners of your mind, you are not lost, you are not running, you are safe. Bathed in blue-white light that feels like sunshine and makes your lips tingle. It’s pure and divine and you do not feel worthy, but the feeling does not last, the self-loathing is soothed, washed away like a baptism of permission to see the way you try, how hard you fight, how hard you live.

Like any seasoned Hunter, the dawn brings consciousness, even though you definitely haven’t had enough sleep, yet you feel rested. More rested than you have in years. The ache in your bones that keeps you awake too late and forces you from shitty motel beds too early seems like a distant memory, one from a life you’re not sure you actually lived, like a reoccurring dream that permeates you waking days, but the relief, that’s real. Like the shower you take, the water almost too hot, the water pressure almost too hard, but it purifies you in a way that you thought was no longer possible, not after the things you’ve done, the things you’ve seen.

Packed and ready to go, you linger by the door, wondering, briefly, what the rush is. Why do you need to leave today? What is really waiting for you at the other end?

But this is not home. (Nowhere is home.)

Being in a bar in the morning feels wrong, the grey light filtering into the room that’s already too lit, too exposed. Somehow it feels inviting though. A couple of people are already in the room, sipping out of big mugs with plates piled with toast and pastries and even cooked food. Who’s the chef here?

“Mornin’! How’s your head?” Dean grins brightly from behind the bar. He’s wearing a stained apron that says lord of the pies and the way he looks at you makes the floor feel soft underfoot, so you forget that he actually asked you a question.

“No complaints yet,” you quip, daring to make a reference that exposes you both. Your fingers find the pin on your jacket, still oddly warm, already a comfort.

He allows a small smile. “Breakfast?”

“Coffee, please, lots.”

“You’re speaking my language.” The coffee smells good, expensive, something that you would pay $7 dollars for because you know what you’re really buying is the chance to sit somewhere beautiful and put together when you are anything but. “Milks and sugar just there.”

Although it feels like sacrilege, you forgo the pancakes he tries to convince you on; you’ve never had much of a stomach in the mornings, but especially not this early, after drinking, with such a long drive ahead. You’ll regret not eating in a few hours, but you’ve never been kind to your future self, why start now? You watch and sip your coffee and let the day seep into your brain, acknowledging that you have to live today, get on with it all. Again.

Three cups in and it’s time to go. You were hoping to see Castiel again, but he hasn’t appeared. Disembodied hands produced Jack through the doorway, but you couldn’t tell who they belonged to, maybe Castiel, maybe Claire. The toddler is more awake, he follows Dean around behind the bar, babbling nonsense that Dean replies to in a gentle, but grown up tone, always acknowledging his sentences, even when there’s no real answer to give. He’s a father. Embarrassingly you imagine him as the father of your children, however that would happen doesn’t matter, it’s a fantasy. A fantasy of security and domesticity. The only knives that Dean Winchester yields now are the ones in his kitchen; the only flesh he cuts through is whatever is on the menu, already slayed and butchered; the only fights he has are bickering with his family.

Family.

Your family is somewhere, out there, maybe where you left them, what’s left of them. Dean picks Jack up and they dance to the song on the radio, some sugary pop song that makes Jack laugh in that infectious toddler way and you get to witness the Dean Winchester sing all the words, perfectly. This isn’t the Dean that ruled Hell or Purgatory or Earth, that was the Hunter and the bow, the sword to Castiel’s shield, that fought the Devil and God and the every other cosmic entity. Could this Dean Winchester have saved the world?

But maybe this isn’t his weakness. If you do not have a soft underbelly then why do you need to have claws? If you do not have a reason to fight then what drives you to win? Dean bares his throat to the world to show it that he has something to protect, and that is what makes him so dangerous. What do you have? Where is the kink in your armour? What are you fighting for?

The bar disappears into the distance, shrinking in your rearview mirror the way a dream slips through your memory like water between your fingers as consciousness takes over. The roads are all the same, the towns are all the same, but you are not. The dread in the pit of your stomach is no longer a knife holding you hostage, but a knot attached to a rope, pulling you back, anchoring you. For all the time spent fighting it, the magnetic pull to a place you felt you could no longer love, people you could no longer have if you wanted to survive. They are what convinces you to survive. You think about the way Dean and Castiel looked at each other when the other wasn’t watching, you thinking about the way Sam never stopped smiling when Eileen spoke, you think about how Claire became a teenager again in Castiel’s arms.

On the second ring, your phone connects.

“I’m on my way.”

#personal #my fic #fanfic #spn fanfic #ao3 #destiel #saileen #2nd person pov #something a bit different #this definitely had a life of its own #bar owner!Dean #post canon spn #15x20 who?#outsider pov #domestic fluff #spn advent calender 2020 #yes I am using the prompts from this lol

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

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Survey #385

“I am a human being, capable of doing terrible things”

Who in your family has been married the longest? (and how long?) Uhhhh. I don't know. Do you take your shoes off when you come inside? Yes. What’s your favorite movie series? I think Shrek when you consider all the movies' (well, I haven't seen the last one, but...) quality. No memeage here, I just genuinely love Shrek, haha. I would say The Lion King, but miraculously when you consider the focus on meerkats, I actually don't like 1 1/2 much. What was the first color you ever dyed your hair? Hm... I think I got purple highlights? Do you want to move anytime soon? Even though we haven't even lived here a year, yes. I don't like living in an urban area, and I also reeeeaaaally don't like our family friend being our landlord. I know that sounds very weird, but she's just a very controlling person who forcefully inserts herself into my family's lives now more than ever, and I have a pretty deep fear that a potential argument finally erupting will lead to us being kicked out. I genuinely don't think Tobey would ever do that, but the fear is still there. How good/bad was the quality of education you received in high school? Average, I guess? What was the most interesting year of your life, and why? "Interesting," maybe... 2017 or 2018? I learned a lot about myself in that time range. But at the same time, my life was (and still is) VERY uneventful. Just a lot of mental stuff went on. What was the first social media site you ever used? Myspace. Do you have any exes you really regret dating? REALLY regret? No. I wish I'd never dated Tyler, but it's not a massive regret or anything. He was still a cool guy that I have a few nice memories with. Have you ever lied on a resume? Or even in a job interview? Ha, I'd definitely stretch the truth about being more of a people-person than I am. I couldn't go too far with lying, though; I'm just not comfortable doing that, 'cuz like, they're gonna find out eventually that it's not true. Of all your friends & family, who has the most nicely-decorated home? Maybe my friend Summer. Her room has always been super cool. What brought about the end of the worst relationship you’ve been in? Apparently, not talking to him every second of every day two weeks into a relationship was a no-no. Where was the last place you spent the night other than your own home? The sleep study building or whatever it's considered in the medical plaza. Do you have any step- or half-siblings? I have both. What do people always seem to think is weird about you? The fact I don't watch TV. Do you ever braid your hair? It's way too short for that. Even when it was long, I didn't do it frequently at all. Is there any certain style of architecture you really enjoy? Roman, in particular. What was the last thing you gave up on? uhhhhhhhhhhh If you watch Parks and Recreation, who is your favorite character? I don't. What’s the last DIY project you did, if any? If you can’t remember, what’s something you’d be interested in doing? I'm not really into DIY stuff, honestly. I'd rather just buy products that were made better than I could, or commission someone who can. What's a song that makes you feel happy? I dunno. It's rare a song alone makes me happy. What is your favorite clothing store? Rebel's Market. How did you meet your best friend? YouTube, back when it was a more social platform. What is something you do well? Catastrophize any situation. Assume the worst of everything. What's a good idea you've had recently? Probably to re-engage with a calorie-counting app I used to use. I'm back to trying to use it consistently. Do you like to wear high heels? Does ANY person LIKE to? How many slices of pizza do you usually eat? Two or three depending on my appetite and the size of the pizza. Do you play any instruments? Not anymore. Do you always smile for pictures? Not always. What are you most excited about right now? To see the results of my TMS therapy. What's the last song you listened to? "Ex’s and Oh’s” by Elle King. What's the last YouTube video you watched? I'm watching an Erosium livestream rn. Newest channel binge, haha. Do you know anyone who's died in childbirth? No. Would you ever consider moving to another country for your career? No. I don't want to leave my family. Do you wear foundation? No, I hate the feeling of that crap. Do you know anyone who has run for public office? No. Do you have a cartilage piercing? I used to, but the hole closed when I had to take it out for the hospital. :/ I plan on getting it repierced. Have you ever been taken to the emergency room or urgent care? If so, why? Yes; for being suicidal, a suicide attempt, and when I had a horribly infected cyst and just existing made me want to sob with pain. Have you ever had to visit anyone in the hospital? Yeah, a few times. What is the most pain (physical, mental, emotional) you've ever felt? Physical: having the aforementioned cyst drained when I was not nearly numbed enough. Mental and emotional (what's really the difference?): my breakup with my first real boyfriend. What is the longest time you've spent crying? Oh, hours on end, fluctuating with intensity. Have you ever been stolen from? Yes. Have you ever been to a ghost town? No, but I would FUCKING LOVE to. Let me bring my camera and it's a field day. Has anything in your house ever caught on fire? Not in this current house. Have you ever been inside of a vacant house? No. Have you ever been attacked by a dog? No. What is the most disgusting thing you've ever seen? The massive cyst my late dog Teddy developed on his lower belly. That fucking thing hung on by a THREAD and was absolutely nauseating to look at. How old were you when you learned how to read? I don't recall, I just know it was earlier than most children. Do you prefer cats or dogs? Cats. Which book series was the first you read? I want to say Hank the Cowdog. I was hooked on it. Would you rather write a book or direct a movie? Haha, what a question, as I've considered both of these as potential careers. I think write a book. What dream that you’ve had has stuck in your head the most? Describe: A nightmare about my dad that I'm not going into. What emotion do you find yourself trying to hide from others? I'm very uncomfortable revealing jealousy or envy. How emotional/sentimental would you say you are? Extremely. What is the most fun game to play? Shadow of the Colossus, probably. What is your sense of humor like (dry, dark, sarcastic, etc.)? I don't know, maybe dry. How many languages can you say "hello my name is…" in? Two. What language do you think sounds the nicest? I don't know, it's not like I've heard every language be spoken. What language do you want to learn more of? German. Do you have any form of OCD? I'm diagnosed with OCD. Do you make promises often? No. I take promises VERY seriously and am not about to make one unless I'm certain I can keep it. What is it that you are responsible for? My pets, keeping my room clean, stuff like that. Do you have a lot of secrets? Not "a lot," no. Are you more likely to be verbally aggressive or physically? Verbally. I'm only physically aggressive in my nightmares. What warning has someone given you that you wish you’d have listened to? Hm. What warning has someone given you you are glad you didn’t take? I also don't know. What is your favourite video of on YouTube? I can't pick just one. Name one creature that freaks you out/scares you? Maggots. Just the word makes me squirm. What was the last thing you wrote down on paper? My signature. Have you ever watched Breaking Bad? No. Are your fingernails always painted? They never are. What color is your bed frame? A rich brown. Did any of your neighbors come over to welcome you when you moved into your current house? No. What's something you didn't realize how bad it was until it happened to you? Heartbreak. Do you like Taylor Swift's singing voice? No. It's squeaky and annoying to me. Does it bother you when people get super emotional? Why the fuck would it bother me? Let people be in touch with their emotions. Have you ever worked in a restaurant? No. What was the last drive-thru you went through? Ummm I want to say Starbuck's w/ Mom after my TMS appointment. Do you know anyone who claims they can see/feel spirits or other supernatural "things?" No. Does your house have any unoccupied bedrooms? Yes. Do either of your parents have a mental illness? My mom has depression, and she personally suspects something's up with Dad, but idk. He's never seen a doctor about that kinda stuff. What fun things are there to do where you live? Ha! Do you know anyone with a really poorly-trained dog? I know many like that. When you were growing up, did your family rent or own your home? My parents owned it. Can you see the stars at night where you live? I actually haven't paid attention at this house. I'm certain it'd be harder now living in an urban area, though. What job do you know you'd be terrible at? Like, everything? I'd probably be worst at promoting stuff to people and trying to push them into buying something. No being a salesperson for me. Do you do meal-prepping? No. Do you know anyone who got preggo less than a year into their relationship? Who doesn't? And now, for the greatest question of all time! Toilet paper- should it go over or under? I literally couldn't care less about this. Fun fact though to "end" the argument, the original concept art of the idea (the word for that is evading me...) has it designed to go over. Are you afraid of mice? Not at all, they're adorable. What type of souvenir do you usually purchase when on vacation? I don't have a specific "type" of thing I get, really. It depends. Do you vacation often? Not at all. Are you comfortable wearing your pajamas in public places? It depends on the place, really. Generally, I really don't care, so long as I put a bra on. What’s your favorite candy bar? That one that's a bunch of Reese's squares composed into a rectangle. It. Is so. Fucking. Good. Do you own more than one copy or edition of a book? No. If you could see any musical on Broadway right now, what would it be? I don't like musicals. Do you own a helmet of any sorts? No. Does your family generally decorate for most holidays? Just for Christmas, really. Do you eat soup when you’re sick? I'm not a soup person. Have you ever watched Doctor Who? I saw one or two episodes with Sara. If so, what do you think is the scariest creature yet? N/A Do you read tour guide type books before you visit places? No.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''run'' by awolnation

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thisyearingaming · 4 years ago

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1997 - This Year in Gaming

Muggins here was born in ‘97, and can’t really remember much of it, natch. But there were some good things released this year - I’ve played every one of these, and have missed so many more.

Diablo - Windows, January 3rd

We start with dungeon-crawl-em-up and well-loved out of season April Fool’s Joke, Diablo. I’ll be totally honest - I don’t like Diablo that much. It’s absolutely fine, I just can’t get into it. The writing, setting and characters are all very good especially since this year only marks the beginning of games being seen as a bit more adult and intelligent. Check out this gameplay from Hour of Oblivion on YouTube, and marvel at the faux-Scottish accent on Griswold the blacksmith.

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Mario Kart 64 - Nintendo 64, February 10th

Compared to its more recent versions, Mario Kart 64 is a veritable bloody relic of the past - solid controls and a quirky style mean it’s still a crowd pleaser to this day, but you’d be hard pressed to find anyone right now that would die on the hill of it being their favourite single-player racing experience. It’s also got some of the deepest, impenetrable lore in any medium known to the human race - why exactly is Marty the Thwomp locked up here?

Blast Corps - Nintendo 64, February 28th

February’s position as most boring month of the year is shaken up a bit by having a uniquely designed Rare game slammed into its 28-day long face. Blast Corps is the puzzle-action game where you take control of several vehicles to destroy homes and buildings in order to prevent a nuclear warhead exploding in the coolest incarnation of Cold War politicking ever seen in a video game. Calling Blast Corps a “hidden gem” these days is like calling Celeste a hidden gem - it impresses nobody and makes you look like a dick.

Turok: Dinosaur Hunter - Nintendo 64, March 4th

The N64 was home to a surprisingly large number of above-average shooters despite its muddy graphics and small cartridge space - Turok is one of these, a great FPS game where you shoot the SHIT out of dinosaurs. Brett Atwood of Billboard said it was like Doom and Tomb Raider mixed - Doom Raider, if you will. I say it isn’t - there’s no demons, and there’s no polygonal breasts to poke dinosaurs’ eyes out with!

Castlevania: Symphony of the Night - Sony PlayStation, March 20th

What is a retrospective? A miserable little pile of opinions. I’ve only recently played through SotN for the very first time on a TOTALLY LEGITIMATE copy with a CRT filter. Bloody good (geddit?) game, that takes the repetition of its predecessors, improves on it in basically every conceivable way, and combines it with special effects and graphics that even 23 years later had me going “ooh, that looks quite good!” Symphony’s music and audio design are wonderfully paired with a deeply enjoyable experience that’ll have you saying “mm, maybe just one more room?”

Tekken 3 - Sony PlayStation, March 20th

Also releasing from the Land of the Rising Sun that day was Tekken 3, which many believe is still one of the best fighters ever made. Tekken 3′s combat is so fast and responsive that it’s better than some games made today. T3 is also the best and easiest way to knock seven shades of absolute shite out of your friends without risking a massive head injury or a trip to the headmaster’s office... where you could also challenge him, but only if he plays as my favourite Not-Guile-or-Ken character in gaming, Paul.

Sonic Jam - Sega Saturn, June 20th

The moment Sega realised that re-packaging old Mega Drive games would net them serious cash - although unlike later collections, this is a strictly Sonic affair, and has a neat little 3D world to run around in as a sort of hub world. Sonic X-Treme proved that Sonic Team would have to work hard at getting the fastest thing alive into 3D space properly: Jam is the sort of test ground for it too. It features some genuinely good emulation work for 1997, although it’s basically the gaming equivalent of going round to your grandparents at Christmas only for them to give you the exact same gifts you got in 1991, 1992 and 1994 but wrapped in a bow to make you think it’s different. What are you lookin’ at, you little blue devil?

Star Fox 64 - Nintendo 64, June 30th

So there’s this German company, right, called StarVox. Nintendo look at Europe and say “shit, we don’t want another lawsuit... after all, we’ve done three this year!”. So they give us in the PAL region the exciting title of Lylat Wars which as far as I know means absolutely fucking nothing in the context of the game. They’re still called Star Fox in-game too so what was the point? Anyway, fun 3D shooter with graphics that’ll make you do a barrel roll off the sofa and onto the power button to make the brown and green blurs a little easier on the eyes. Hello 2007, I’ve come back to make old references with you!

Carmageddon - Windows, July 30th

The game so scary it was BANNED in the UK! More like the game so fucking shit it was banned. Carmageddon is so deeply boring to play on PC that I can only imagine that Stainless Games made it tasteless by 90s standards simply to ramp up demand - much like another game we’ll be covering soon.

Herc’s Adventures - Sony PlayStation, July 31st

“And they said Kratos was the best hero? Shish... they got it wrong, sister! Hercules is clearly better... he even has a coconut weapon.” A surprisingly fun overhead action game that most people only know for... well, I’ll just embed it.

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Mega Man X4 - Sony Playstation, August 1st

A few years ago I tried playing every Mega Man game there is - I gave up at X3 because I was getting bored. Even still, Mega Man bores me - but at least the level design is good. Stay away from the Windows port. Pictured: me in the background yawning.

GoldenEye 007 - Nintendo 64, August 25th

The name’s Intro. Overused intro which I also managed to fuck up twice through the deeply editable medium of text. GoldenEye is like the Seinfeld of console shooters - playing it nowadays you’re unlikely to be amazed but holy shit there’s some absolute greatness in this game. Every sound and every piece of music in GoldenEye is permanently seared into my brain - sometimes I’ll just hear Facility or Frigate in my head alongside the door opening sound and the gentle PEW of the PP7. I mean come on, fucking listen to this and tell me Grant Kirkhope isn’t cool as all hell.

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LEGO Island - Windows, September 26th

The first open world experience I ever had was LEGO Island. It’s still quite good today, utterly deranged animation from the likes of the Infomaniac and Brickster - a cautionary tale for children that giving pizza to high-profile criminals is disastrous for the human LEGO race.

Fallout - Windows, October 10th

War never changes, but franchises do. Fallout’s legendary status in the industry is exemplified in how different it feels. Yes, we had the game Wasteland nine years prior, but until September 97 there was nothing quite like Fallout. From the chilling introduction sequence showing the ruins of the United States to the tragic ending, Fallout is an exercise in pure human misery with the brightest spots of hope it can possibly muster thrown in for good measure. What begins as a tedious isometric point-and-click RPG ends as a minigun-wielding power fantasy, before your entire worth is stripped from you at the finish line. You have 500 days to find a water chip before it’s too late, but you’re constantly being fought by terrifying Super Mutants, irradiated animals, and the biggest monster of all - humanity. See what I did there? If anything, humanity in Fallout’s setting would be the greatest unifying force possible against the horror of the outside world. But how is it? It’s dull, it’s sluggish, and it’s really hard to get into even if you’re already a fan - but push through that and it’s worthwhile to see exactly how far the series got before Todd Howard said “eh fuck it” and had the whole thing dipped into an FEV vat.

Grand Theft Auto - Sony PlayStation, October 21st

To put it simply, the first in the GTA series is now nothing but a novelty. It has an irritating camera, wonky controls, poor graphics and deeply repetitive gameplay. But thank fuck it exists, because without it the Rockstar story may have been very different indeed. It’s quintessential cops and robbers gameplay, spanning across Liberty City, Vice City and San Andreas in one game, but with maps so far removed from their modern incarnations they may as well be named “Not New York, Possibly Bristol and Orange Town”. People really fucking hated Hare Krishnas in the 20th Century, didn’t they?

Crash Bandicoot 2: Cortex Strikes Back - Sony PlayStation, October 31

A hard one to talk about, honestly - it’s more Crash and better than the first one. It looks great, and Crash controls so well compared to his first outing. It’ll also keep you playing for 100%, fiendishly addictive and unashamedly difficult. Had a weird cover that moved with your head.

PaRappa the Rapper - Sony PlayStation, November 17th

Type type type the words into the box! (Type, type, type - uh oh - the box?)

PaRappa is a gorgeously stylised rhythm game about rapping to steal the heart of the girl of your dreams - which involves learning karate, getting your driver’s license, selling bottle caps and frogs, making a cake, desperately trying not to shit yourself, and finally performing live on stage. Every one of its segments is so well-produced that they’d genuinely sell like ghost cookies in this era of shite rap. Notable for producing the greatest Jay-Z backing track ever made.

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Sonic R - Sega Saturn, November 18th

Sonic R is absolutely FINE with vibrant textures, interesting levels, neat gimmicks and decent controls. But I’m gonna talk about its fucking AWESOME soundtrack by Richard Jacques and T.J. Davis, an eclectic mix of Europop and New Jack Swing - even thinking about it is bringing tears of absolute joy to my eyes hearing Super Sonic Racing in my head. You’ve got the main theme, Living in the City, Can You Feel the Sunshine, Back in Time, Diamond in the Sky, Work It Out and Number One - all of these are absolute club bangers and genuinely wouldn’t be out of place in a 90s disco.

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Tomb Raider II - Sony PlayStation, November 18th

Lara Croft returns to single-handedly endanger every species on Earth. TR2 is really good, the exploration and puzzle-solving aspects of the first game expanded upon here and the gunplay remaining just as punchy. Lara’s got a fully-functioning ponytail which absolutely boggles the fucking mind - a lot of work went into Lara’s hair for the 2013 reboot, so I can’t imagine the amount of man hours it took to get fluid(ish, come on, it’s the PS1 we’re talking about) hair movements in 1997.

And really, that’s all I played from 1997. I’ve left out big hitters like Quake II, Gran Turismo and Diddy Kong Racing, but I simply haven’t formed an opinion on them yet. Maybe in a future post.

Thanks for reading.

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liw-the-melancholic-apple · 4 years ago

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How it may have gone - Humble beginnings

If you're into Harry Potter maybe give this a read. Let me know what you think. It is a marauders fic with tons of original characters.

James, Sirius, Remus and Peter are a bunch of things. But mainly they're teenagers. In their 6th year the political climate in the magical community gets colder and conflict is near inevitable. At hogwarts that leads to more animosity between some of the students. But it also bands some together.

Another prefect in the group doesn't seem like a good idea on paper, but it turns out that the soap opera aspects of high school as well as the downsides of wizardry are better faced with Friends. The more the merrier.

Masterlist

One: Skip the step

Six old-timey claw footed armchairs with purple upholstery. Two little side tables, dark wood, also claw footed with visible glass marks on the shiny tabletop. No windows. Thick velvet curtains to both sides of the door. Their colour was somewhere between magenta and burgundy. They should have clashed with the armchairs but didn’t. The floor was dark graphite or something like it. No rug.

Three gigantic bookshelves with glass cabinets to my left. One of them held the same book over and over and over again. I had checked. I had double checked. I actually was the very same book, same edition, same author, exact same title. First I had thought that it was the biggest encyclopaedia I’d ever seen. But it was just copies over copies of one book. “How to survive wizardkind” by Agathe Lieberschenk. Sounded German.

The door of the second cupboard was covered with inky black fabric, so I couldn’t see if it held the same book again. Though, I was pretty sure it didn’t. There wouldn’t be any need to keep people from prying if it was just the same book again.

the case closest to me buzzed quietly. In the middle a large contraption was stored. I had no idea what the thing was but it caused the buzzing. A large triangle made out of what seemed to be white gold pipes spinning on its tip in mid-air over a silver tray engraved with runes that I couldn’t decipher. The buzzing got on my nerves. I was absolutely sure that it got several octaves higher since I first entered the small and stuffy room.

I forced my eyes away from the décor and found myself staring at the top of the doorframe again, although I knew that the clock which hung there was not showing the actual time but the centuries that had passed since the it was hung. Currently, the big hand sat at 8. Old clock. Old room. Old castle.

Frustrated that I had no idea how long I’d been sitting in my stupid purple chair I huffed audibly. Blue-ish grey eyes darted at me curiously. I didn’t need to check. I knew. They had done so every single time I had moved or even breathed loudly. They were nervous.

The boy they belonged to sat across from he in his very own stupid purple chair. Feet tapping an uneven rhythm on the stone floor, fingers clawing into his knees. As I looked up to his face I expected his face to express his anxiety just as much as his body did. But it was calm, statuesque. Breathing was quiet en deep, eyes, still looking in mine, were expressionless and the skin was the usual pale, instead of the flustered red I had expected.

After a while the slightly narrow-set eyes looked to the top of the door. The brows furrowed in annoyance but quickly returned to their original position, helping the face try to convey calmness again. His fingers gripped his trousers even faster, though.

I didn’t like to admit it but the way in which Black was capable of controlling his expression was impressive. My emotions were always readable for anyone and everyone, his face was nearly always as made of stone. It must have driven him insane that is body betrayed his efforts of hiding his anxiety.

“God, how long can it take to tell them off!” I jumped a little at the exclamation and heard the tall boy next to me chuckle.

“Well, maybe he finally kicks them out of school and goes through the paperwork with them”, I couldn’t see the boy that voice belonged to, as he sat next to tall chuckler but he was clearly amused.

The tapping of the feet across from me got louder as the four other boys started fantasising about the conversation behind the closed door that held us in the stuffy purple buzzing chamber. As I wondered whether Black maybe tap-danced in his spare time a slightly bigger foot stepped on his. “Relax Reggie”, the boy belonging to the foot said softly. Black scoffed at his brother and kept tapping. “Why are you so nervous, mate?”, Potter pushed his glasses back up his nose as he leaned forward to inspect the state the younger Black was in. Another scoff but no actual answer.

“Look at the goodie-two-shoes over there, they seem perfectly fine”, Potter continued vaguely gesturing toward Remus and me.

“I doubt she’s fine”, Remus chuckled again, looking down to me. I refused to take part in the conversation so I remained silent and stoic, inspecting the ornaments on the side tables for the eightieth time.

But Remus was right. I was not fine. I was fuming. Fuming because we would definitely be late for dinner and I was starving. Fuming because I was sitting next to that goddamn buzzing triangle that had just gone another octave higher and threatened to explode my drums. Fuming because I had let them get the better of me. Fuming because of what had been said. Yeah, mainly because of what had been said. But my feelings were none of their bloody business.

“She looks fine”, the voice behind Remus had leaned forward just like Potter, round face looking at me perfectly innocent. Now, it was my turn to doubt. I was no Regulus Black. I was annoyed and I bet that that was very visible.

“Meh”, Remus said turning towards me. “Pretty sure she’s never been here before and doesn’t like it.” I turned my attention to the curtains again, doing my best to ignore them.

“Does she talk?”, older Black chuckled.

“Yeah, she usually does. A lot even. Which is why I doubt she’s fine.” I could hear him grin. He had a way of looking like a hyena when he felt mischievous. Which was often. Prefect or not, he was just as involved in the pranks, schemes and fights as the other three Gryffindors.

“Proof it!”, Potter demanded, leaving me puzzled as to who needed to proof what.

“Proof what?”, Remus asked.

“That she talks.”

“She’s not a parrot, Prongs. And I’m most definitely not her keeper or her tamer. And I’d like it to be understood that I know that”, with those last words he turned completely to me. I knew that he was looking at me and I also knew that it was childish to pretend he didn’t exist or that I had not heard the conversation. So, I looked at him and gave him a quick nod.

My acknowledging Remus’ existence was interpreted as an invitation to talk to me directly by his friends. “ Come on De Witt, just say hello or something”, Potter whined. He pronounced my name wrong. Most people did. They all pronounced it Do-it. Not Deh-vitte. Very annoying.

“That’s not how you pronounce that”, younger Black said to not only my surprise. “It’s deh-vitte. German name.”

“Dutch”, I couldn’t help myself and instantly bit my tongue.

“Aha!”, Black the elder shouted pointing at me frantically as if he had just seen my spew fire.

“I told you she could talk”, Remus commented, grinning again.

“They already knew she could talk, Lupin, they’re trying to wind her up.” Younger Black seemed to have decided that just tap-dancing and clawing open wounds into his knees wasn’t enough to combat his uneasiness.

“How do you know how to pronounce her name”, Pettigrew asked confused, neglecting that they had long passed my surname.

“She’s in my year. Corrects the teachers all the time. You’d think they’d remember how to pronounce her name but they don’t.”

“Why would they?”, Potter pushed his glasses back again.

“She’s been here for nearly five years now and she’s rivalling Remus in classes. You’d think a teacher would know how she’s called, wouldn’t ya?”

Against my will I shot Black a surprised look. How on earth did he know about my marks? Then again, I knew about Remus’ and I only ever spoke to him if I had to.

“So, you’re a goodie-to-shoes and a know-it-all, huh?”, the older Black looked me up and down. I sighed and faced him.

“So it seems.” The triangle skipped an octave and practically screamed at me. Irritated I turned to the cupboard.

“It only does that for as long as you pay attention to the sound”, Pettigrew informed me. I looked at him blank-faced. “What?”

“That thing, if you ignore the buzzing, it will actually stop.”

I looked at him, then back at the annoying triangle and let out a “huh”.

“How do you know?”, I asked after a quick moment, forgetting that I was fuming and didn’t want to talk to those boys, because I was too curious about the infuriating contraption in the cupboard.

Older Black started pointing at me again dramatically and reminded me of toddlers at the zoo. Potter and Remus started laughing a bit and Pettigrew turned red. “Well, eh, uhm”, he began when Remus rescued him: “Not our first time, here. We figured that out” he pointed toward my bookshelf, “in second year. Maybe third.” I nodded. Of course they knew every little detail of Dumbledore’s waiting room. The practically lived in his office.

I was contemplating whether I should ask if they knew what was up with the endless copies of that one book, when the door opened and Professor McGonnagal came in. She did not look amused. Her eyes met mine, her head darted toward the door she had just come through and then she turned around again.

As I got up Potter shouted after her: “Oh, come on Minnie, we’ll miss dinner if she’ll take just as long!”

McGonnagal turned back around. “Well, Mr Potter, so will I. But do you hear me whine?”, she shot him a cold look, then graced every single one of the boys with it, while I stood stupidly waiting for instructions. I felt awkward. The professors look lingered on Remus, then she waved him to also follow her.

We walked behind her, crossing the small corridor from the waiting room to the big oak French door to Dumbledore’s office.

We were guided toward two new old-timey claw footed armchairs with purple upholstery and sat down. No sign of the six Slytherins who had been called in before us. I looked at my headmaster on the other side of the heavy antique desk and waited.

He took his time saying something. Looking at Remus first, then me, then back to Remus, ever so slightly shaking his head. In disappointment?

“I would have expected much more from two prefects than to end that situation by hexing classmates. If there is anybody who knows this is against the rules, it is the pair of you.” I wanted to correct him but he lifted his hand effectively shutting me up.

“Both of you are very skilled when it comes to communication and you have been chosen to be the prefects for your respective houses because you can keep a level head and remain objective in situations such as the one that landed you here. Do you have anything to say for yourselves?”

I waited about one heartbeat to give Remus a chance to defend himself. When he didn’t I addressed the bearded man with the silly hat myself: “Remus shouldn’t be here. Professor Dumbledore. He didn’t hex anybody. If you want to scold someone for not being a proper prefect, it should be me. Remus has not broken any rules and if you let him leave now, he might still have full choice at dinner.” I looked at the headmaster in anticipation. He turned is his halfmoon glasses toward Remus and raised both eyebrows.

“Well, Sir, she isn’t wrong. But I don’t think she’s right either.” Dumbledore’s eyebrows jumped up even higher on his forehead.

“I might not have hexed anybody myself, but I also didn’t keep anybody from doing so. And if I’m honest I would have if Jette hadn’t disarmed me.” He paused for a second, glancing at me, then continuing:” And while we’re defending each other: Jette didn’t hex her classmates, she disarmed them – in pretty badass move by the way –“, he notched me in the side and I couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. “And she only disarmed them – us – because we were about to hex each other. And it also wasn’t her first attempt of keeping us from doing it.”

“It wasn’t?”, Dumbledore interrupted, redirecting his attention to me. “No, Sir, it wasn’t. When I stumbled across them, wand at the ready to curse each other I first conjured protection. But as soon as I let that go, they were at it again. So, in order to prevent any actual harm, I disarmed them.”

“In a pretty badass move!”, Remus said again.

“Why are you so hung up on that?”, I asked, momentarily forgetting that I was here to try and not get punished, rather than discussing Lupins enthusiasm over my Defence-against-the-dark-Arts-techniques.

“’cause it was a clean sweep in one move. Very elegant. Never seen anybody do that.”

“Why thanks, Remus.” I was honestly flattered.

“What you are telling me is that Mr Lupin did only make himself guilty of wishing to hex somebody and that Miss De Witt’s only crime was to prevent any hexing?” We stupidly looked at each other, then nodded in unison. That was pretty much what happened.

I thought that he was satisfied with that answer and would maybe let us of the hook and into the Great Hall with a warning but he wasn’t done with us yet.

“Do either of you know why there were a total of twelve students trying to assault each other in the transfiguration corridor?”

If I were to answer that question my still searing anger would get the better of me, so I hoped Remus would just say no.

“I don’t know who started it Sir, we rounded the corner when Jette yelled at them to stop. As soon as Sirius realised that Mulciber and his friends were hexing Regulus he got in on it. And so did the rest of us.”

“Not you, though?”

“Well, technically only Black got to actually cast a spell, Sir”, I interrupted. “The rest of them were going to but couldn’t because of the Protego. Including Remus.”

“You were there before Mr Lupin, I understand?”

The old man’s eyes were far too bright, lively and inquisitive for someone his age, and they looked directly into mine.

“Yes, Sir. A bit.”

“Do you know how the rowl started?” Yes, yes, I did. But I didn’t know whether I could tell him while keeping a level head and staying objective. Those damn elitist Slytherins!

“They had words, Professor.”

“Who did?”

“Mulciber and Black, Sir.”

“They had words?”

“They argued.”

“About what?” His eyes bore in mine as if he already knew what they had fought about and he just wanted me to tell him.

“Ehm…” I started trying to win time to calm down a bit and find the right words. I realised I wiggled my lips from left to right as I was thinking.

“About the company Black was keeping during lunch”, I finally said, forcing myself to sound calm. Remus’ head twitched towards me.

“He had lunch with us.” I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just shut up.

“Why would Mr Mulciber be interested in or upset about who Mr Black spends his lunch with?” Dumbledore’s eyes wouldn’t let me go.

“I… think that’s a question for him, Sir.”

“You heard the argument, didn’t you, Miss De Witt?”

“Well, yes, but I don’t know what Mulciber is thinking…”

“Would you recount the argument for me?” No. No, I really wouldn’t. I’m not one to use those terms!

“I’d rather not, Sir. It was…unpleasant.” Remus sighed next to me in understanding. But Dumbledore wouldn’t let me off the hook.

“Humour me, Miss De Witt. Please.”

My teeth clenched I breathed in and out a couple of times, begging myself to not fly into pure rage.

“Mulciber – and his friends – are apparently … proud of… their heritage.” I managed to say slowly through my teeth. I hoped the headmaster would just take the hint. He had whatever Mulciber told him – I assumed he would have no problem repeating the insults he had used – and he could also ask Black the younger about the argument. It was his after all.

“You meant to say they are proud to be pureblood wizards?”, the old man’s eyes softened. A bit.

“Yes, Sir. That.”

“What does that have to do with Mr Black’s lunch?”, he asked very innocently and as if he had no idea, although Remus had already said that Black the younger had sat with him and his friends. Couldn’t the grandmaster of the Wizarding gamot just use his abnormally large brain to figure that out?

“With all due respect, Sir, I think you know”, I answered vaguely.

“Please, Miss De Witt, just give me your account of events.” I groaned involuntarily.

“Really, Sir, I’m just gonna get angry.”

“Feel free to”, he smiled at me in encouragement. I quickly glanced at Remus and he shrugged.

Again I took a moment to collect myself before I started talking.

“Well. Mulciber and his goons had seen that Black had been lunching with his brother and Remus, Pettigrew, Potter and Evans at the Gryffindor table”, I started feeling heat rising all over my body as I remembered the scene in the transfiguration corridor right after lunch.

“They weren’t happy about that because of their being proud pure bloods”, I spat the word like it was poisonous. “In their mind a fine pure blood Slytherin boy like Black should never, under any circumstance, fraternise with people who aren’t purebloods – or Merlin forbid those people who defend halfbloods and muggleborns.” I got really worked up now.

“So, when they met Black in the corridor they yelled at him that he was a disgrace to Slytherin House and his family, just like...”, I interrupted myself and glanced at Remus again. He looked at me scarred face all serious and nodded slightly.

“Just like his blood traitor brother.” Now that I said it, there was no going back and I knew I was going to yell in just a couple of seconds letting out all my frustration and fury.

“His blood traitor brother who does not only eat lunch with the filthy halfbreeds and unworthy muggleborns but who has the audacity to be friends with them and publically defend them and their rights.

Mulciber called Black – the younger Black – a bloodtraitor himself threw around some great insults for Remus and Pettigrew and then – in front of the whole goddamn year!!! – he shouted that Black should stop hanging out with a – and I quote – filthy mudblood like Evans who should be hunted like the vermin she is.

Then Mulciber pulled his wand and gave Black the Lion tattoo in his neck. Only then did Black take up his own wand and tried to protect himself. That lot”, I gestured at Remus, nearly poking his eye out, “had come ‘round the corner just before the hex and probably heard the last few sentences Mulciber had said. Naturally, other Black and Potter were up in arms immediately and that’s when I cast the Protego. Mind you for all of them. Including Mulciber and his racist friends, Professor. I cast a Protego for them. And don’t think that any of that stopped them from yelling and insulting and throwing words around that I have learned to never use however angry I am.

And what happens after I disarm the lot of them? We all get dragged to your office. We all get the same speech from McGonnagal. And we”, again I gestured at Remus, who had to duck away as I had risen from my chair standing up in all my anger. “get to wait for hours and miss dinner, while that elitist, racist snob gets to have some pudding. Tell you what, Professor Dumbledore if I had known that acting my age and remaining reasonable would have landed me here in the exact same spot as that piece of shit I would have never even bothered to protect them. I would have loved to help Black jinx Them into the next century and back!

How dare you punish Black when he only acted against a useless and unwarranted prejudice by standing up for his brother and his friends in public. Him having to go back to his dorm and common room should be punishment enough. They’ll rip him to shreds and you don’t even let him have a last dinner before that? He’s done the right goddamn thing!

How dare you punish Remus, Potter and Black when they only helped the clear underdog and stood up for not only themselves but also every single student in this school who happens to not be a Sacred 28? With the current political climate you should award every single student who speaks for mixed heritage a medal or 500 housepoints, not make them go crazy in that maddening buzzing room!

You should’ve thanked them for speaking some sense, for showing that those elitists aren’t scary, that you can easily get the better of them. That it’s your right to defend yourself when somebody calls you unworthy of even existing! But would do you do? You haul them in here to punish them. How’s that fair, huh? How’s that fair?

And don’t get me started on the fact that I fought the urge of just bashing Mulciber’s head into the wall and instead made sure that nobody got harmed! Not that bottomfeeder of a Slytherin, not his very justified attackers, not the innocent bystanders, of which there were a lot in that corridor. No one harmed.

You should just thank us all and let us go for trying to fight discrimination. Because that’s a noble thing to do. And you should thank Black twice because I honestly think that he mostly agrees with Mulciber’s twisted opinions but still stuck up for his brother and the lot.

And while we’re at it: I think you should also expel that wanker Mulciber for openly attacking others, physically and verbally, with terms that are as unforgivable as the curses!”

I huffed and puffed and figured I had nothing more to say. So, I stood, breathing heavily for a while, then sat back down. I quickly looked at Remus to figure out how he saw my chances of staying at the school after that outburst, but had to find that he looked at me like I had just introduced him to the horsemen of the apocalypse and announced the end of the world. No help there.

A little weary I turned back to Dumbledore, whose mouth was somewhat stuck between a smile and a smirk. He took a deep breath, keeping his freakishly youthful eyes on me, then he spoke: ”Thank you for coming in and clearing the whole thing up. Seeing that the pair of you are prefects and supposed to make sure that he rules of this school are followed, you’ll understand that you have to be disciplined for breaking them. Please report to Madam Pince every day after your last class for the next week to serve detention.” He was calm, not the least bit shaken, confused, angered or shocked by my fit of rage and pointed to the door. “That’s all”.

Confused out of my mind I slowly got up again and followed Remus out of the office. As we opened the door we nearly collided with Professor McGonnagal who stood right behind it, back to us, gesturing vividly as if she was guarding a hoard of three year olds. As the door closed I heard different voices shouting and finally McGonnagal stepped away.

“That was bloody brilliant!”, Pettigrew stared at me as if I was some kind of apparition. Potter slammed his hand against my back several times, while the older Black wiped away a non-existing tear from his eye. Younger Black just smiled at me a little crooked and mouthed a thank you. Before I even got a chance to process the last couple of minutes, let alone react to my newly founded fan club Dumbledore appeared in the door to his office and ushered the four boys in. Remus and I remained in the hall.

“You’re free to go”, McGonnagal informed us with her usual stone cold, strict face but her voice sounded a lot warmer than usual.

I didn’t waste one second and basically ran down the stairs to get away from that whole mess of a situation and to my well-deserved dinner.

I did not get very far. I had just left the griffin gargoyle behind me and turned left to get back down to the ground floor and the Great Hall when I heard some sniffles. Then sobbing. Oh, great! I really wanted to ignore the sounds of despair and just leave whoever it was to fix their own misery but I knew that that wasn’t me and that I didn’t lose my prefect badge in the headmaster’s office, so it was basically my job to investigate the crying.

♠♠♠

For the I-don’t-know-how-many-th time that day I took some stabilising and calming breaths, then walked backwards to the little alcove I had just passed. Bingo!

There she sat, no older than 12 dressed in black robes with blue and bronze accessories balling her eyes out. I took in my surroundings again before I approached her. This was upper-classmen territory. I had only just started coming here myself, so surely the little Ravenclaw was really lost.

I kept my distance, standing just before the alcove’s entrance and crouched down. “Hey, you alright there?” Despite my efforts not to seem threatening and the use of my I-can-help-you-find-your-mummy-face and voice I startled her. She hick-upped as she lifted her head and stared at me with the biggest and wettest eyes.

“You seem a little out of place”, I tried again sitting down putting my arms around my knees with a smile.

She sniffled. Her eyes fluttered to my face, then my yellow badge with the cursive “Prefect” on it and back to my face. “Uhm…” She started. “I… am…lost?” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Huh”, I answered. “How’d you get here?”

“Stupid stairs”, she said more to herself than me.

“Oh, yeah those will mess up your day”, I chuckled. “And they will forever. Doesn’t matter how long you’ve been here and how well you think you know your way around the castle, those stairs will have you wandering around for hours without the foggiest idea whether you’re even still in Scotland. Happened to me just last week.” It hadn’t. I hadn’t gotten lost in this school since my third week of first year, but I figured she could use the reassurance. And I was right. She gave me a shy smile.

“It did?”

“Sure thing”, I lied getting up and reaching out my hand to help her do the same. She only hesitated a short moment before taking my hand and standing up.

“So, where were you headed?”

“Dinn…”

“Oi, de Witt!”, she was interrupted by the voice of Remus Lupin and some heavy footsteps. Pained expression on my face I turned to see that he and his posse ran toward me and my insecure second year.

I considered ignoring them and just taking the girl to the Great Hall but they already were too close for me to pretend that I didn’t hear them.

“Yeeeeeees?”, I stretched out the word as much as I could to stress my unwillingness to talk to them. Remus came to an abrupt stop just few feet away from me catching his breath. He opened his mouth to say something, realised I wasn’t alone, closed it again and started anew: “New friend?”

“Uhm… we just met actually. And we were going to dinner”, I responded. “If that’s still happening that is…” While Remus tried again to say what he originally intended, Potter crouched down in front of the girl and extended his hand. “Hi, I’m James. Did the stairs get you?”

The second year carefully shook his hand. “Jill. And yes.” Jill didn’t look up at him she stared at her feet, clearly uncomfortable.

“Oh well, don’t sweat that!”, laughed Black the elder. “Happens all the time to everybody.” Liar.

“Why don’t you just jump on and let Peter here explain to you how you best avoid those tossers’ tricks?”, Potter suggested while turned around, still crouched, to let her climb on his back. She looked up at me as to get my permission and because I didn’t really know what was going on I just shrugged and she smiled.

Potter stood back up looking very happy with himself and introduced Jill to Pettigrew. Pettigrew threw himself in a story of how he was trapped in the prank step for hours in his third year and gave Jill a long list of helpful and not so helpful tips. I followed the trio with both Blacks and Remus.

“Her entire year will be jealous of that piggy back ride”, chuckled Remus knowing very well how popular Potter was with the girls.

“Not just her year”, I corrected knowing very well how popular Potter was with the girls.

“If you give her a high-five in the Great Hall she will be a legend at least for the rest of the year”, I said to Black the elder and earned a surprised but satisfied grin.

The whole Jill-thing had calmed me down quite a bit I realised and I didn’t mind the boys’ company.

“I had no idea you could blow up like that”, younger Black said, smirking at the sight of Jill laughing and squealing in joy as James went into Rodeo-mode.

“Well, I usually don’t in front of headmasters… or people I don’t know that well.”

“Thanks, anyways.”, I looked at younger Black crunching up my face.

“For defending me. Us, really. You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I had to! And meant every word. Mulciber, I swear to god…”, I cut myself of because I was getting angry again.

“There were quite some compliments in there, Jette”, Remus broke his silence and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he finally said what he wanted to say when called out for me a couple minutes earlier.

“So?” What’s wrong with that?

“I didn’t know you thought so highly of us”, he grinned that mischievous grin of his.

“Highly?”

“If I recall correctly you called us noble”, Black the elder answered for Remus with that crooked halfsmile that had become his signature thing.

“I think I called your actions noble. Your actions in that very specific situation. Let’s not get too carried away”, I corrected but laughed at the same time. Black rolled his eyes.

“So you’re on library duty with him”, younger Black asked with a side look to Remus.

“Yes, a week’s worth of detention with the ever so chatty Madam Pince.” I sighed. She and I didn’t really get along. Not that I visited the library more than absolutely necessary anyways.

“What about you?” While I asked that question I realised that I was having a pretty civil conversation with two of the school’s most well-known troublemakers and younger Black who had silently agreed with me to just ignore each other’s existence for most of our school career.

“Reporting to Hagrid for a week every night”, younger Black said non-chalantly. “That can’t be too bad, right? I always wanted a good reason to go into the forest.”

“For someone who shit his pants in fear of punishment just about an hour ago you speak with a lot of confidence, Reggie”, his brother teased and earned a fist to the shoulder.

We caught up with Pettigrew, Potter and Jill just in time to hear Pettigrew hammer home the point that one should always skip the trick step. He had Jill repeat it several times and nodded heavily. I giggled. Pettigrew then mentioned some actually interesting bits of information about how she should always look out the window if the stairs messed with her to figure out on which floor and in which wing she was, before reminding her that it was most important to skip the step. This time I giggled in unison with Jill who seemed to thoroughly enjoy her evening now.

As we rounded the last corner to the foyer Pettigrew had Jill repeat the Top Five Tips he had given her starting with five. As she got to one Pettigrew dramatically winked at her and said it with her:” Always skip the step!” Jill broke into laughter at the doors of the Great Hall, which Pettigrew threw open dramatically to let Potter gallop in there, Black the elder right beside him. When all eyes were on them Potter let Jill dismount, smiled at her widely and wished her a great evening. Black the elder raised his hand for a high five and told her – louder than necessary – to just ask them for help if ever she needed it. I simultaneously rolled my eyes at their exaggeration and smiled at their effort to make her feel better once and for all.

She had just turned to go to the Ravenclaw table when Peter yelled after her: “Skip the step!” which had her smile from ear to ear.

Black the younger scoffed a little, lifted a hand as greeting farewell and was already on his way to the Slytherin table when his brother shouted: “Hey Reggie, don’t forget to…

“Skip the step, I know”, Black interrupted in turning half around grinning and waving dismissively.

“Well that was…an unexpected turn of events.” I said as I walked to the two left tables with the boys. Halfway down my table I stopped having found my friends and I was going to just sit down and breathe in my dinner but I couldn’t help it.

“Oi. Pettigrew”, he looked at me surprised. “Remember to skip the step, yeah?” I giggled at his expression somewhere between extreme confusion and extreme delight, as Black the elder laughed a barky laugh, Remus gave me a double thumbs-up and Potter ruffled through Pettigrews hair.

I sat down fully between Chloe and Milla who looked me up and down as if I was ill, just like Crick on the other side of the table. I considered telling them the entire story, but looking at the scarce rests of the dinner buffet, I decided to first eat. I deserved some pork chops

#marauders textpost #harry potter #marauders era #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evans #fanfiction

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aurorxbanks · 4 years ago

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hello my friends !!! it is i, chelly, once again to throw my babie at you all :~) i hope y’all will love miss aurora just as much as i do, bc she holds a special place in my heart and i’m really excited to have her here! i think she’s gonna adore all of y’alls muses so :~) please don’t be shy, hit me up, i’ll be around in an inbox near you soon too to plot and chat! okay, before i ramble too too much, here is her way too long bio. love youuu

* : ･ﾟ･✧･ meet aurora marlowe banks ･✧･ﾟ･ : *

tw: ptsd, trauma, construction accident, panic attacks, hospitals

TL:DR: oof, i struggle with coming up with a too long, don’t read for miss aurora BUT at her core, she’s just this sweet child who grew up in a really close family in maine. the banks got thrown for quite the loop after her father suffered from a massive accident, leading to many medical complications and hardship for her family. she suffers from pstd and panic attacks as a result, but she’s been blessed with a strong support system too and she manages well enough, all things considered. at the hotel, she’s a vet tech and is in her final year of becoming a veterinarian at the university of illinois - chicago. so naturally, a huge animal lover but food is also her love language and those of her two favorite ways to bond with new people. she’s timid and shy, a little naive and gullible, but a truly amazing friend and someone who loves and cares with her entire being. a good little egg and i hope y’all will love her as much as i do.

wanted connects: bc i don’t want them to get lost in the novel abys ... i’d love for her to have some vet pals, or rlly just pals who work in the pet daycare with her! if you’re a fellow cook, she’s going to ask you what your favorite recipes are with a pen and pad in hand so ... get ready for that one! she’d love a running buddy, or someone who’d spur of the moment sign up with her for marathons and such so like, bring them on, she’s an early riser so will motivate you to go train with her at 6 am - you have been warned! she’s only ever been with a few people in her life sexually and romantically, but she is very very bisexual so having an ex partner or a once upon a time crush/unrequited love could be hella !!! oof i cannot see aurora hating anyone, but something of a frenemies situation could be angsty and fun. they first met bc aurora almost ran them over while she was rollerblading and changing her song so the phrase ‘don’t text and skate’ came to exist askdf i’ve also got it in my head that her sister natalie’s fc is alycia debnam carey and her sister winifred’s fc is katherine/josephine langford so ... okay i’m just going on and on here huh okay i’ll shut up

now, onto the WAY too long biography i wrote for her ... but here we go :~)

tw: ptsd, trauma, construction accident, panic attacks, hospitals

*:･ﾟ･✧･ who am i?: the coastal town of kennebunkport maine, tucked into the southern half of the state, was what aurora called home for most of her life. it’s a tiny little town with a population just under four thousand people, but it was during the summers that the area would come to life. her father, artie, was an architect per his degree but was a contractor by trade so he was constantly finding work to further develop what was becoming more and more of a tourist attraction each summer. so he had gotten to know the people in the town well, was often working construction jobs as he had a relatively small crew, and that meant aurora and her mother emilia were always out and about. whether they were bringing artie a bagged lunch on his break, or going down by the shore to collect sea shells even if it was the winter season, they’d become quickly and easily acquainted with everyone. and aurora wasn’t their first daughter, either, she has two older sisters: natalie and winifred aka natty and winnie. both of whom are named after their grandmothers, but winifred will tell you she got the short stick but thank god for hocus pocus because winnie is far cuter. anyways. so for the three little ducklings to be following their mama emilia, the town knew the banks family well and they were very well liked. they spent a lot of time on the beach as soon as the weather was warm enough, but they also liked driving the rv out onto the sand when it was too cold, too. they’d wear gloves and bundle up and the big fluffy german shepherd named scout would frolic along with the girls chasing after him, too. aurora spent just as much time chasing after her two older sisters, too, just wanting to keep up with them whether it be in school, or at home, or wherever. artie and emilia were high school sweethearts, moving to kennebunkport after they got married, and they were just exceptionally close and in love, maintaining their family wasn’t difficult. aurora was always a little quieter than her sisters, shier and slower to jump into conversation about whatever book she was reading or joining in on the chalk drawing all over the sidewalks with the neighbors, but she was every bit as present as her sisters were, too. it was truly a community, and one that aurora didn’t ever realize that she was going to be needing as desperately as she did after the accident.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ a new reality: when she was ten, her father was in a massive accident on one of his worksites as he was building a new beach house on a newly developed property. which was more of a mansion, truly, and the landscaping was still being mulled over. it left for some interesting scaffolding, even fault in some spots, and it was one wrong step that left her father falling a few floors down onto a bed of hard gravel below. as a result, he was in the hospital for the better part of a year as he suffered from a severe head injury as well as a broken back that took too long to heal as he was especially susceptible to complications given his type one diabetes rendering him immunocompromised. needless to say, aurora and her family spent a lot of time in the hospital during that beyond difficult year. emilia, the champion mama that she is, kept it together as best she could but the banks were truly a broken family. what they were going through, the way in which three young girls were being tested, and the medical bills that stacked up quickly … it was honestly a miracle that they had any sort of sanity at all. as a sort of escape, aurora spent a lot of time in the children’s unit of the hospital, because she tried making friends with some of the other kids her age ( since being around her sisters all of the time was also difficult for her ). she was there often enough, and they’d play tag when the nurses weren’t looking, and would eat in the caf together on the good days, and there were a lot of wholesome memories that aurora got to make when she wasn’t by her dad’s side. there was, however, the heartbreaking nights where a nurse would stop by and take aurora aside, tell her that one of her friends at the hospital had passed, and it was never news that she stomached well. of course, how could any kid? but aurora feels everything, all of her emotions, with her entire being. a lot of it just became too much all at once, and that’s when her panic attacks began. when it all became too heavy, in the stark white halls of the hospital wings, aurora would find herself curled up in herself barely able to breathe let alone think … the nurses, the doctors, they were incredible of course, but truly it was being surrounded by her family once more that allowed for little aurora to center herself again.

it was a little over a month before artie came out of his coma, and it was an even longer and slower recovery than was expected. seeing her father in the hospital bed, unresponsive, unsure if she would ever get to talk to him or sit in his lap as he read her a story, wondering if he was going to get to see her play soccer in the fall on the a team … for a young kid, it was a lot. it was a lot of trauma for a long time. but artie did wake up, which was a miracle in his own right truthfully, but so was his recovery. it was a long ten months of intensive rehabilitation, repeated fMRIs, and pitfalls but god was it a well-needed moral boost for the banks family. and even though there was still so much work to be done toward artie’s full recovery, if there was to be one, at least he was alive. at least aurora still had her daddy, and that made all the difference. as head injuries can be difficult, and unpredictable, it was uncertain what brain functioning and part of his brain would be affected fully. and as aurora had come to find, her father’s personality, the frontal lobe? he was still that very same person she had known her entire life, and emilia wholeheartedly agreed. the main differences came from his body, as he couldn’t move in the same ways anymore, he had to essentially re-learn how to sit up, stand, walk, but he did. in conversation, the recall on certain words, phrases, experiences .. it comes and goes, some things are there and others need a hefty amount of prompting, but the banks will live with that over the alternative every day of the week. it’s been nearly ten years since, and artie has come such a long way. no longer working on-sight anymore, he still works alongside his partner in their architecture consulting business. so to put it lightly, the recovery was better than even the doctors had come to expect. but the trauma, well that has always lingered with aurora. all that she had seen, had heard, the beeping of the monitors that her father was hooked up to, the sterile scent of the sheets that would replace the bed her friends in the pediatric ward occupied … it still haunts her. every night before bed, and every morning when she’d wake, she’d have to make sure her parents were still there, alive, breathing, able to respond to her when she’d reach for their hand. if mama was napping and aurora couldn’t hear that faint snore, she’d have to check on her. if dad fell asleep at his desk from exhaustion, she’d poke him awake with a few tears in her eyes. and even if it’s been ten years, it’s still something she’s likely to do with whoever she’s living with. luckily, when the time came, her college roommate understood.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ years to come: just to make it through the recovery year, and the rehabilitation years that followed, aurora leaned heavily on her sisters. they were three little peas in a pod and aurora’s never been closer with anyone else in her life and she never will be. they were, and for the most part still are, iseparable. they’ve got a groupchat that’s active at any hour of the day, has been for the past decade, hell even before unlimited texting they were on aim - and aurora wouldn’t have it any other way honestly. the only reason she did decently in school is because of her sisters’ influence, as they’re a few years her senior. they always kept aurora in the right spirits, along the right path, and a lot of that probably came from emilia’s request but aurora didn’t mind. she wasn’t ever looked at as the annoying little sister, but as an equal, and she truly appreciated that and them more than she could ever express. their bond is unbreakable, and it’s been tested time and time again, but it’s where aurora’s strong sense of loyalty comes from. it’s also a huge contributor to her endless ability to care for others. which, that particular trait has been responsible in getting her heart broken on more than one occasion, as aurora was the type to fall hard and fast especially when it came to any beautiful person glancing her way in the halls. but again, she had her sisters to protect her, to nurture any broken hearts or help mend any rocky friendships that teenage girls can have. if she ever accidentally hurt someone else, or if she was the one who got crushed, that ability to feel every little thing with her entire being would do a number on her, but natty and winnie were always right by her side. artie and emilia give the world’s best hugs, and always know when something’s up with their daughter. it allowed for aurora to grow, to express herself fully, to feel accepted despite her niuances. she’s found it difficult at times to connect with people her own age considering her mature experiences, but she’s done her best and the people who truly care for her have remained, and others have faded into the background, and that’s okay. aurora knows that not everyone is meant to be in your life forever, but those who are, are held closely to her heart.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ onward: it was a difficult enough decision for aurora to venture out beyond her small town in maine for the big city .. truth be told, she likely wouldn’t have if it weren’t for winnie having made the move first. natty, the eldest, attended colby college in order to stay close to the family and for awhile there, aurora likely dreamt of doing the very same. but winnie was offered decent aid northwestern university, and she really wanted the opportunity to branch out and get out of the small corner of the work that the banks had been occupying for so many years. and while aurora and natty were a little heartbroken, that only lasted for a few weeks, before they got on the same page as their very supportive parents and knew that it was going to be one of he best things for winnie. and for the last two years of her high school experience, without her sisters being in the same building or the same house, aurora started to grow more on her own. she liked being able to make the roadtrip with natty to visit winnie on the weekends, to see what life was like outside of their hometown. illinois was exciting, and chicago was rich in diversity, and it greatly attracted all three of them. aurora especially, and she was constantly in her guidance office discussing the different colleges in the area and degrees she could be going after. she was a particularly good student, got a lot of tutelage from her support system, and the sciences were her favorite. she even made her parents buy her a special set of goggles for her chem lab and yes, she got made fun of for it, but aurora didn’t care. the concept of medicine was attractive to her, considering all she had been through and where her interests led her, but she couldn’t bring herself to envisioning MD at the end of her title … working alongside a human population, it just felt a little too overwhelming for her, perhaps even triggering, but she still felt that pull. and her guidance counselor knew that, also knew how often aurora volunteered at the local animal shelters and fostered as many as she could ( or rather, as many as her parents would allow ) so the topic of veterinary school came up, as did the university of chicago and their program offerings … and honestly, it was like overnight, aurora had made her decision.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ decision day: just shy of her eighteenth birthday and aurora was already enrolled and committed to attend the college of veterinary medicine and the school of public health at the university of illinois-chicago. it’s a five year program that she’s just about ready to finish, with only her clinical hours to go, before she can officially call herself a vet. and it was just last summer that she finished her vet technician credentials to be able to practice as a vet tech legally and outside of the scope of the college’s intern hour requirements, which is how she got herself a free place to live at the malnati. because while aurora loves her school, she’s always had a tough enough time fitting in with classmates who are her age, with kids who just wanted to goof off and fuck around. because aurora’s never been that girl. she’s quiet, timid even, and it takes her awhile to warm up to people - especially new people. she got to live in her little slice of the world in maine where her family were her biggest supporters and the rest of the two just knew her. aurora rarely had to introduce herself to anyone, ever. so it was a whirlwind of a new experience, and she was lucky to have winnie in reasonable driving distance, but it still made it difficult for aurora. the party scene was never hers, in fact being in large groups of people can occasionally overwhelm her, so she tested it out a few times before deciding that it wasn’t gonna be for her. she didn't like how her panic attacks seemed to get worse if she was around far too many intoxicated people, so she decided against them for herself personally. aurora much prefers the, let’s go get sushi and then roam around the art gallery, type of weekends. so needless to say, she stuck to the few good friends in her program, some outside of it too, and just lived. she would run 5ks to support local causes, attend street markets and festivals on the weekends, run around hopping from one train to the next to get to work and then back onto campus so she could afford everything. but in her last year, it’ll be more than nice to have the malnati as it’s one less bill and one stable job to maintain on her resume while she completes her degree.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ love languages: which - that honorable sushi mention up there? well, food is one of aurora’s love languages. once her dad was able to come home, the girls became avid chefs. emilia was always a good cook, but more than that she taught the girls all kinds of recipes and techniques and it just created this type of burning, lasting memory in aurora’s mind and honestly being in the kitchen is just her second happy place. the first? well anywhere she can be surrounded by animals - that’s her first happy place. because she’s the biggest animal lover, but she’s also a huge foodie. she doesn’t cook as much as she used to being in chicago, as she did back home in maine, but with the suites having pretty incredible appliances considering the size, she’s excited to get back into it. handwritten recipe cards fill a few binders that she’s put together, and nothing makes aurora feel more at home than her dad’s handwriting, cause he’d scrawl down whatever emilia would tell him to as she was cooking, and it’s just a little shaky from the brain injury but it’s perfect. it’s him. it’s her dad’s. and she really loves the little hearts that’re on every card that her mom would add at the end, so she’s excited to start using them again. which means that she will feed you, she will share tupperware and accept new recipe cards with a lot of excitement. but also now, getting to live in a place where she is able to take care of all these beautiful pets in such a glamorous daycare? well, aurora’s somewhere between heaven and heaven - cause she’s got this big heart that’s filled with floof balls, and gorgeous birds, and reptiles with textured skin - and don’t get her started on the cutest ferret that one of the guests has lodged at the daycare for weeks and she cannot get enough of. so she’s fully ready to make just about any excuse to show up and hang out with you and your pets, because she vehemently loves quality time and as this also being one of her love languages, she can never get enough.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ four wheels, two legs, a paintbrush: but amongst other things that aurora enjoys? she’s a big rollerblader, like actually owns inline skates and will use them to get around chicago if she pleases and 100% takes those very aesthetic tiktoks wearing her bellbottom jeans and hair all blown out … it’s one of the very few instances of aurora being vain, but she just enjoys it too much. very much into running, it’s the only other form of exercise she willingly participates in ( unless it’s swimming because of course she loves to do that ) and she swears one of these days her knees are gonna be the end of her but she keeps up with it anyways. she signs up for 5k’s without question and half marathons take a few extra moments of consideration but she’ll do those too - she’s determined to do her first marathon soon and she’s really looking forward to it. she’s also not very good at it, but she loves to paint. she’s gotten a lot of those ‘paint by number’ watercolors that she saw ads for on instagram for way too long before finally placing an order but she really loves those. she’s got a vintage polaroid camera from her grandmother’s closet that she is very protective over but she’s highkey in love with it. that one stays in its case in the trunk at the end of her bed, but she’s gotten a less sentimental polaroid to use as more of a decor piece on her dresser. and literally no one is surprised at this point, but she’s got a record player and a bunch of vinyls from her dad’s collection and her sisters make fun of her for being 'that bitch’ but she doesn’t care - it’s just all a part of what makes aurora authentically herself.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ empath: of which, she’s exceptionally kind. to a fault, mostly. she’s gullible and naive, which caused her to be manipulated growing up but she had support to get her out of those situations when she needed it. because aurora is trusting, and trustworthy, but she mostly wants to see the good in other people. but she’s also learned from the moments in her life that burned her, and she tends to keep to herself a bit, and is very slow on the open up, but she liked to have friends. very much a social person, actually, she’s just gotta get used to the new and exciting and feel people out before she’s her most honest self. which is a bit of a goofy, smiley, supportive gal who very clearly grew up in a tight knit family because she’s quick to pull people into her circle who want to be there, and who care enough about her to be there in the first place. her favorite people are good people, and all she ever tries to do is her best. once she’s open to someone, she’s with them 100% of the way and holds the people in her life very close to her heart. she feels with her entire heart and soul, whole body, and sometimes that can be emotionally exhausting and even physically draining so she may need to step back from time to time, but she’s still always gonna be there. aurora will talk through emotions and isn’t afraid of having the deep talks either, which is probably one of the things that makes her such a good friend. being in chicago, she’s a wide eyed gal with a big heart, whose experiences have shaped her, and she is unapologetically herself.

#malnatiooc #+ ( introduction * . )#i'm BACK

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musicnoots · 5 years ago

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Hello Heaven

Joe Toye/Reader

Prompts “Please stay with me” and “It’s okay to cry” requested anon

A/N: Lots of hurt and comfort. This includes graphic descriptions.

Synopsis: Comforting your fiancé after a nightmare leaves you more broken than you can ever imagine.

Tags: @gottapenny @dustyjjumpwings @croatianbagudna @higgles123 @wexhappyxfew @bandofmarvels @medievalfangirl @those-dusty-jump-wings @curraheev @junojelli

Joe felt like he was back in the forest, in Bastogne, in the Ardennes. It was almost as if he could feel the snow as it fell from the sky and landed on his uniform, cigarette meeting his lips to warm him up against the chilly air. Then there’s you, turning around to meet Joe’s eyes when he calls out to you just to pull you into his foxhole and wrap his arms around you feeling whole again.

He feels like he’s with the guys again—talking to Bill during his free time, eating chow with Don, and laughing his ass off with George. During the day he was Staff Sergeant Joe Toye, but during the night he was just Joe Toye who loved to hold you and pinch your nose because he liked to see you look like Rudolf the rednosed reindeer. He’s smiling and laughing through a time of suffering and pain, complaining about his boots being in Washington up General Taylor’s ass.

Everything flashes by within a blink of an eye—the jokes, the laughter, his cigarettes, you, and all of a sudden he’s back.

Back in the same spot, German artillery falling from the sky and trees exploding left and right, scattered footsteps from men running back to their foxholes. One minute he’s laughing his ass off with Bill and the second, he’s laying in the middle of the Ardennes with a mind as hazy as the fog in the morning.

Joe sees his life flash before his eyes—the end of the war, coming home and hugging his Ma for the first time in years, a future with you. In the moment, he kisses them goodbye and says hello to heaven because God knows what he felt when he saw his leg.

Nothing but a bloody stump with wood chunks stuck in it, snow stained with his blood like paint, but he doesn’t feel anything. His body is completely numb, shaking, panic coursing through his veins like adrenaline. He writhes, trying to get his ass off the ground and report back, but it’s not working.

His hands aren’t working like they used to, no strength available to get him off the ground and drag himself to a foxhole—there was nothing left of Joe. He had been wounded numerous time before—grenades, bullet wounds, shrapnel, but this was different. He was stuck in a puddle of his own blood, breathing and barely clinging onto life and his leg—it wasn’t even there anymore.

He felt empty, hopeless. Longing for your touch given by God, Joe can only whisper goodbye to you as he tries again and again to get up.

“I gotta get up.” He tries again, hands beating the icy snow beneath him like a child at the beach building a sand castle. “I gotta get up.”

Joe thinks of you, your smile, your touch. God, he hopes you don’t have to see him like this—he hates to see you cry, dropping to your knees and holding onto him like a lifeline. He feels like he’s wasted his time, not letting you know how much you actually mean to him because you are his world, his universe, and his entire existence, but you’ll never know because he can’t get up. He wants to see you one last time because the last thing he said to you was Argh, Y/N, stop moving. I can’t sleep when you move around so much. He takes it back now—he loves it when you move around when you sleep because it leaves him wanting more, a scavenger hunt for something he always knew he needed.

“I gotta get up.”

Tears start to dwell in his eyes now, hands grabbing for whatever he can grasp while letting his dreams and aspirations slip through his fingers like water. He clings onto life like thread stretching to the max, holding on helplessly.

“I gotta get up.”

“Joe, wake up.”

“I gotta get up.”

“Joe, honey.”

“I gotta—“ His eyes open to the darkness of the room, body lunging forward like he was going to vomit.

You caught him just in time, your hands took him by his shoulders and kept him afloat as he calmed down. Breathing heavy, beads of sweat on his forehead, and tears streaming down his face, Joe couldn’t find himself to look at you. He never can.

It wasn’t uncommon to have him waking up in the middle of the night reliving that one moment from the Ardennes, it’s always that moment.

He feels ashamed, guilt hitting his chest like a pang, hurting more than it should. His hand touching the empty spot on the bed right below his stump, mourning the loss of what was his leg and feeling a teardrop land on his skin like boiling water. Man, I’m crying again. Stop crying, you big baby.

But he doesn’t. He never does.

Joe keeps crying, silent sobs escaping his lips as you pull him into your chest and letting the tears stain your shirt. He always cries, but it doesn’t bother you. You let him cry as much as he wants because you went through it together, you know how much it hurts.

You were there when Joe called out your name before leaving the woods, only seeing one leg and puddle of blood, and you’d be lying if you said that you never dreamt about it. It was always there like the demon in the back of your head, reminding you of the image of Joe face to face with death—one footstep away from Heaven.

“I’m sorry,” he manages in between sobs, and he tries to say more but he can’t. You let him cry, cradling his head as he finally lets it all out.

He’s sorry for having to wake you up every night with the same shit, always waking you up with tears streaming down his cheeks and heart beating faster than what his body can handle. He hates seeing the look of concern and panic on your face at this hour of the night when you should be sound asleep next to him. He wishes that he could be normal and sleep, but life isn’t always fair.

Joe can’t help but admit that he feels safer in his your arms, you are the shelter that won’t let the rain come through, a safe haven for him at four in the morning. His hands hold onto you, choked sobs leaving his lips like ghosts.

“You’re okay, honey,” you coo, “you’re okay. You’re safe.”

“I-I saw—“

“I know, honey.”

He keeps crying, gripping onto the fabric of your shirt so tightly, jaw clenched, and his eyes closed in fear of waking up in the middle of the Ardennes again. He’s paralyzed from the thought of reliving his nightmare again, night after night, seeing himself laying in a pool of his own blood, just hopelessly hanging on. It’s not just a memory anymore, it’s a part of his life—a part he never wants to see ever again.

In the midst of this tears, you take Joe’s face into your hands and wipe the hot tears away with your thumbs. “Joe, look at me. You’re safe.”

He shakes his head and keeps his eyes shut. “I-I gotta get up, Y/N.”

“Joe,” you plead, “open your eyes, please. You’re not there anymore. You’re here, with me. You’re safe with me, Joe, just open your eyes.”

He does exactly what you ask of him, opening his eyes and seeing nothing but your face in the darkness of your bedroom. He’s not in Bastogne anymore, the pool of blood is replaced with a bed and a blanket, his uniform is now a thin cloth of pajama pants and he sees nothing but the soothing look on your face that leaves him tender in the moonlight.

Joe immediately falls into your touch, allowing for you to cradle and protect him from the demons inside his head. He cries because he feels that it should be him holding you late at night because you experienced the same war as he did, just differently. He cries because your touch is so great and calming, he doesn’t know what to do without you. He cries because he hates reliving the same nightmare over and over again like a film reel, wondering why Heaven didn’t let him in that day.

“Don’t leave me,” he murmurs, holding you as tight as he can as you lean back with him on your chest. “Please stay with me. Please.”

You stroke his head and hum in response. Joe was always insecure when it came to the middle of the night, screaming and crying and waking you up when it was always unnecessary. He just wanted to be a good fiancé, he was going to be your husband after all.

“I-I’m sorry,” he apologizes for the umpteenth time of the night, breathing finally growing steady and body relaxing. “I’m sorry I keep crying, I cry all the time, I just—“

“It’s okay,” you smile, and you know he can’t see it, but Joe Toye knows you too damn well to know that you are. “It’s okay to cry. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” He shakes his head, and you nod, never forcing anything out of his mouth other than the phrase I love you.

He lays there, still in your arms, your hand lazily running fingers through his hair, the other resting happily on the small of his back. You always find a way to soothe him when he’s at his worst, you were an angel in disguise and all he can think of now is not his leg or Bastogne—he thinks of the wedding, finally becoming yours and yours only.

When he finally falls back asleep it’s nearly five in the morning, snores leaving his parted lips, he was grateful Heaven didn’t take him then.

#band of brothers fic #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers #easy company #hbo war #joe toye #joe toye imagine #joe toye x reader

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mattsyrmiller · 5 years ago

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( ✩ - ARON PIPER, MALE, TWENTY-ONE, HE/HIM ) have you seen MATÍAS MILLER around campus lately? HE is a SENIOR studying as a BUSINESS MAJOR. they remind me a lot of covered-up tattoos, cigarettes, endless streams of coffee and business agendas, probably because they are LOYAL & TACTICAL. HE is living OFF CAMPUS at the moment! ✩ beti, 21, CET, she/her. – )

hello hello! i’m beti and this is my fav child Matt!! i tried do a summary of his bio but it ended up so long i added a summary to the summary lol,, scroll to the bottom for that. also hmu for plots and connections, either here or on discord!

matt was the result of an unplanned teen pregnancy

his dad’s parents disowned their son upon learning he fathered a child at seventeen and denied him any and all financial support, which among other things meant he would no longer be able to attend an ivy league business school he’d already been accepted into

his mom’s parents helped with the bare essentials for raising a child, but never gave more than absolutely necessary, oftentimes leaving the young family struggling to pay their bills

his parents started having a lot of relationship problems but stayed together for the sake of their child, as soon as his mom realized matt was the only thing keeping the family together, she “accidentally” forgot to take her birth control and gave birth to twin boys and later a little girl

when matt was 8 his parents had a nasty split, dad moved to new york and completely cut ties with his family, matt was the only one to keep in contact with him

the reason his dad moved to NY was because of a once-in-a-lifetime business opportunity that skyrocketed his venture capital firm and made him a prominent name in the world of venture capital

Matt has spent his whole life trying to be like his dad, he always pushed himself to be at the top of his class, had to be the president of every club he found himself in, attended all local business talks (first as a visitor, then as a speaker) and has been working on getting his name out there since he was basically a child

he ended up graduating high school a year early (partially cause he knew it would look good on his resume and partially because he really wanted to get out of his hometown,,,, his mom remarried soon after his dad left and yes, her new husband was actually a very cool guy, but the whole family tried to pretend like matt’s real dad didn’t even exist and the stepdad was the only guy in their life and that just,,, irked matt a lot and caused a lot of fights in the household)

he moved to California when he was 17 to major in international business at Columbia

his dad’s net worth had reached the millions by then, he didn’t really care to share the wealth with his ex-wife and kids, but he did start sending generous checks Matt’s way once he started uni

with no financial troubles to weigh him down, matt spent his undergrad years as a library dweller by day, party animal by night, his ability to balance a thriving social life and a successful academic career probably his biggest talent of all

at the beginning of his very last undergrad semester, his dad fatally injured himself while rock climbing, leaving all of his shares of Miller Ventures to Mat

matt became the majority owner of one of the biggest firms in the country basically overnight with his net worth now just shy of $700 mil

miller ventures came under fire when news broke on then 19-year-old matt being the new guy in charge, most people didn’t even know his dad had a child and so they weren’t too trusting of the decision to leave this huge company in the arms of some unknown kid

matt became terrified of ruining his dad’s legacy, he quickly appointed one of his dad’s business partners a CEO and told everyone he would remain a hands-off owner until he completed his degree and got some real-life business experience

hard work has always been his means of distraction and so he managed to graduate top of his class at Columbia and even get himself accepted into NYU’s business MA program that very same year

he lives off-campus, in a manhattan penthouse he inherited from his dad

at the moment, every decision he makes links back to the firm and his fear of doing something stupid that could ruin its reputation

if he’s not good friends with people and doesn’t feel 100% comfortable around them, there’s about a 99% chance he’ll be extra fake when interacting with them, mainly because he’s afraid of cancel culture and doesn’t want to do anything stupid that would reflect poorly on the value of his firm

for that same reason, he doesn’t have a real social media presence and is super cautious about how much he shares with strangers

he used to be a huge party animal, but stopped going out as much after inheriting the firm (again, because he doesn’t want to be labeled as a reckless young drunk who’ll just run the firm into the ground). He’s still very social though and loves to host events, one of his favorite things is to just get together with friends and do game nights (he loves event hosting!)

In general, he’s just really hardworking, really cares about his image and will be super fake nice to everyone, though he’ll revert back to the outspoken, direct, flirty kid he’s always been with people he trusts

he’s pretty much just a walking identity crisis, split between being a serious businessman and a twenty-one-year-old carefree daredevil

Also! After his dad died, his mom refused to go to the funeral or even let her other kids attend it, she asked Matt to give up the firm and come home instead, they had a huge falling out over it and ended up cutting ties with each other

Even though they don’t speak anymore, Matt still loves his mom and is thankful for all the sacrifices she’s made, he misses her and his siblings very much, but is too stubborn and too proud to go home. If anyone asks, he’ll just say his family is happy back in Atlanta and won’t even hint at any family drama

His mom is Spanish and she made sure her kids grew up around Spanish media so Matt is bilingual, but I don’t really speak Spanish so please don’t test me on that………… he also speaks fluent german and is attempting to learn mandarin cause ykno its good for business

His full name is Matías Sawyer Muratalla Miller but he dropped his mother’s last name after the falling out so he goes by Matías Miller in public/business settings and by Matt Miller in private.

Idk that’s it I think? He’s a dog person, hasn’t seen most major blockbusters in the recent years, deleted Netflix cause he wants to be more productive but ironically still has cable, one of his goals is to open a board game cafe though it's more of a hobby for him than a main business type of a ting, he loves sports, huge soccer fan, loves to work out, loves being outdoors, prefers to be with people than alone, he’s definitely an extravert and a big social butterfly

that’s all i can think or right now but hmu and we can do plots and connections and i’ll let you know if i think of anything else!!

SUMMARY:

He’s a business boy who used to be a party boy until his dad (his #1 role model in life) passed away and left him with a huge venture capital firm, now he’s in a constant state of an identity crisis, split between not wanting to take life too seriously and always being afraid of doing something stupid that could ruin the reputation of his firm, he’s a lil paranoid about how people perceive him and what kind of an image he gives off to the world. He’s the biggest extravert you’ll ever met and n e e d s people around him at all times, needs at least like five friends to talk about life and feelings with (but is also a bit paranoid people only want to be friends with him for his money so that sucks) uhh yeah idk he’s doing his best i know he seems fake at first but idk give him a chance he’s a very loyal friend and fun to mess around with when he forgets to give a shit abt his reputation

#nyuintro

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staticscreenwriting · 6 years ago

Text

Love was just a word - Billy Hargrove

Synopsis: Billy wants to start fresh after Highschool. But that means facing the past and that’s scary. Also abandoned pools are romantic.

A/N: This is my entry for @hotstuffhargrove‘s Summer Writing Challenge. I had the prompts "want a ride" and "is that your idea of flirting". This is over 8k words so, it’s long be warned. Also I’m gonna read through and edit this tomorrow morning I’m so close to falling asleep (forgive me small mistakes please). Feedback, as always, is appreciated.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

I thought that love was just a word They sang about in songs I heard It took your kisses to reveal That I was wrong, and love is real

The california sun burns down on his skin with familiar warmth as Billy leans against the outside wall of a tall brick building. There’s vines covering the front and a big white sign proudly displaying the name of the institution, “ Daisy Fields nursing home”.

His hands feel clammy as he takes yet another drag of what’s probably his 3rd cigarette in the matter of half an hour. Every time he feels like taking a step forward and entering the building, his heart speeds up and it feels like his legs are made of solid concrete. If Neil could see him now, it would just confirm all the taunts he’s been throwing at Billy for years.

There’s people walking in and out of the big red doors. Most of them are smiling. He wishes so deeply that this is what things are like for him. That walking inside will end up in him smiling the way those people do. That facing the life he’s left behind means being welcomed home with open arms and friendly words. He’s afraid that is not how things are gonna be.

“ Hey,“ a voice speaks up from besides him as he blows the cigarette smoke into the open air. “ Can I help you ? “

There’s a girl who seems to be around his age. Her hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail and her eyes look exhausted but there’s a certain softness to the way she looks at him that makes Billy feel conflicted. People don’t look at him with soft eyes. They haven’t for a long time. It’s either rage or admiration or lust. There’s no inbetween. Those are the emotions he’s familiar with. The emotions he knows how to deal with.

“ Hello ? “ it’s when she speaks up again and raises an eyebrow in question, that he realizes she’s still waiting for an answer. But really, what can he say. Can she help? Not really.

“ No I uh — no. “

“ You sure ? Are you here to visit someone ? I can see if they’re ready to welcome a visitor. I work he—”

“ I said no!”

He doesn’t mean for it to come out like this. Mean and snippy and loud. It’s just too much right now. Coming back to California and facing the life he has left behind. All of it is crashing down on him all at the same time and it’s — it’s a lot.

“ Oh, okay. Well in case you change your mind... “ she trails off. Billy wonders if she doesn’t know how to end the sentence or if he’s supposed to guess how it ends.

“ If you change your mind and decide not to be such a fucking pussy and finally face the consequences of all the stupid decisions you’ve ever made, just come inside”.

Yeah that sounds about right.

He finishes the cigarette before getting into the car and speeding off. Back to Chase’s flat. The one that’s too small for even one person, let alone two. Billy sleeps on a two-seater couch he suspects is from sometime between the early stone age and 1950. It squeaks every time he as much as takes a deep breath. There’s springs painfully pressing into his back and he has to sleep in a fetus position so his legs don’t hang off of the couch from the knee down.

But really, beggars can’t be choosers now can they ? Chase doesn’t have to let him stay at his place and yet he does anyway. Sure they’ve been best friends since as long as Billy can remember, but that was never the friendship they had and it still isn’t the friendship they have. Things with Chase are easy. It’s all the fun and loyalty that the best friendships come with only there’s no expectations. No pressure to be someone you’re not. Neither Chase nor Billy had expected the other to get in contact during Billy’s stint in Indiana and yet they both knew that if things go real bad they could count on the other to be there. Chase is a good friend, Billy thinks, maybe the best. But he’s a god awful roommate and those are the fact.

Billy Hargrove is a lot of things but he’s not messy. Never was. Even as a child, being clean and tidy was something that had been drilled into his head like a fucking commandment. Neil hates messes. Physical ones and emotional ones. In the Hargrove household you learn to either put your stuff away or never see it again because Neil has gotten rid of it. In the Hargrove household you really learn to cherish the things that are exclusively yours and you learn to take the utmost care of them.

When Billy arrives back at the flat, he finds it empty. What else has he expected really ? Chase works full time at the gas station. It’s an exhausting shop and he has to work a lot of night shifts but it pays well enough and he has first hand access to all kids of booze. He’s also mentioned that a lot of chicks hit up the station on their way to the bar, to pregame or some shit like that. Billy has yet to test that statement on its actual truth.

As his eyes move around the room, glancing at what is his life right now, Billy starts to wonder if this is really living. Maybe it’s just existing. All his belongings are stuffed into two grey duffle bags. He’s lodging on his friends couch eating his friend’s food and acting as a silent side character in his friend’s life.

He’s got no job, no perspective and not idea where to go from here. This is not the life he wants to live. But changing means facing all the shit that’s gone wrong and Billy isn’t sure if he’s quite ready to do that.

- OOO -

It’s 3 days later that he finds himself in the same position, leaning against the same building, smoking a cigarette and wiping his clammy hands on his jeans.

He watches as an older lady talks to a family. Her family, probably. They are smiling and laughing and the little girl that is with them, cuddles close to the older woman. Love is radiating from every corner as he looks at them. They all look so all consumingly happy. He thinks that maybe things here aren’t so bad. Maybe they’re good. Maybe they’re happy. That should ease his conscience a little, right ? Right ? Only it doesn’t. Not even a little bit.

“ Billy ? “

It the same girl from the other day, only this time her hair is down and she’s carrying a guitar case.

“ What ? “

“ That’s your name, right ? “ she asks, eyebrows raised.

“ Yeah. How to hell do you know that. “

She smiles at him and when usually is would make him angry, Billy can’t help but let her smile sooth him a little. It’s so soft and full of something Billy can’t put a finger too. It’s like she’s smiling because she means it not because she feels like it’s expected of her.

“ William Collins is one of our residents. He has a picture of you in his room. I thought you looked familiar the other day and I finally remembered. I mean sure, you’re like 8 in that picture and you’ve grown quite a bit since then — “ Billy almost can’t suppress the smirk trying to spread on his lips as she says that and glances towards his arms “ — but your eyes. Those are still the same. “

Billy loves his eyes. They’re the one thing about him that most resembles his mother. The only other thing he really ever loved in his life.

“ Is that your idea of flirting ? Cause it’s not working, sorry “

She laughs at that and Billy reconsiders his last words there for a moment. Maybe it is working. Her laugh is phenomenal, he thinks.

“ No. No I — that would be a tad unprofessional. So, am I correct ? “

She is. He knows what picture she’s talking about. It’s one that had been sitting on his grandparents’ mantelpiece when he was younger. It’s of him and their dog Charlie. He’s smiling at the camera. Smiling at his mother who’s behind the camera. That day, was one of the good ones. A day when things had gotten too bad at home and mom had packed him into the car and had driven them to his grandparents’ house. He was happy there because mom was happy there and because there were people there who loved him. Who wanted him around. Sometimes he wishes his mom had been smart enough to leave Neil behind. That she would’ve ignored her soft heart that still held even an ounce of love for her husband. That she and Billy had just stayed with Grandma and Grandpa. Maybe then things would’ve been different. Maybe things would be different now. Alas they aren’t. They’re as shit as they are.

“ Why do you even care “

It’s a knee-jerk reaction. One he displays every time someone asks too much, wants to know too much. It’s just easier this way. In the end, no one really cares anyway. People are just nosy assholes.

“ Well clearly you care too. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here, huh ? I just thought maybe you’d like to come in, see William. He’s doing well so — “

“ Look, you don’t know anything, okay ? So how about you don’t try to mendle in my family life, yeah ? Fucking ridiculous. “

Hearing that his Granddad is doing well, make him feel a little better about everything. Doesn’t mean it gets easier though. The weight still feels heavy on his shoulders. Like he’s Atlas and the guilt of his past is the world on his back.

“ I was just trying to be nice. I think he’d like to see you, that’s all I wanted to say. Have a nice day, Billy ! “

Her words are laced with an underlying fury and a very obvious disdain for the way he’s been talking to her. Billy thinks he liked the soft looks better. The smiles too. Then again, it’s his own fault really. People have their breaking points and they have every right to be pissed off at his attitude towards them. God he wishes he wasn’t such a fuck-up.

He can just hear Neil’s cruel laugh in the back of his mind. The constant scoffs at Billy. He wishes there was a way to make them shut up. To quiet his mind. Ways that don’t turn him into a horrible person. Like the alcohol did to Neil.

His eyes follow the girl as she hurries inside the building. One of these days he’s gonna muster up to courage to do the same. To face it all. Not today though. Not on a day that make him so painfully aware of all that is going wrong in his life.

Billy thought that once he was free of his father’s radical tyranny, life would be easier. He truly believed that as soon as he was back in California, back home, things would just work themselves out. Spoiler alert : They don’t. And maybe that’s the typical teenage angst talking but he feels so desperately lost. And maybe all teens do but most of them have someone to turn to. All Billy has is a father that detests him and a Grandfather he can’t bear to look in the eyes.

- OOO -

There’s moans coming from the bedroom when Billy enters the apartment. Apparently Chase had a point when he said his job at the gas station was great for picking up girls.

Billy tries to ignore it for a while but really the place is the size of a matchbox and it’s hard to focus on anything else. A look inside the fridge tells him that in favor of entertaining the girl in his bedroom, Chase has ditched on doing a grocery run.

That settles it for Billy. He grabs his keyes and jacket and rushes back through the door and out into the night, looking for a place to eat. A place of peace and quiet.

- OOO -

Billy walks out of the 7/11 and onto the parking lot. The ground is still wet from the rain that has swept over the town earlier today. The neon lights reflecting in the puddles create a ocean of reds and pinks and bright greens. And if it wasn’t such a mundane thing, Billy would almost thing it looks pretty.

Just as he is about to fumble his car keys from the pocket of his denim jacket, a voice from beside him speaks up.

“ Hey stranger. “

Billy lifts his head and glances towards the car parked two spots from his. There on the hood sits the girl from the nursing home. The one with the soft eyes. The one that talks to much. He hair isn’t pulled into a ponytail this time and she’s wearing a big grey sweater of some sports team. It’s quite that change from what Billy assumes is her usual uniform.

There’s a few boxes of food placed on her lap and it would be a lie to say that the thought of greasy fast food doesn’t make Billy’s mouth water. All he could manage to buy with the few dollars he has saved is a box of graham crackers and a bag of off brand nacho chips.

“ You know at this point I start wondering if you’re maybe stalking me “ Billy exclaims and walks towards her car. It’s a black Mercury Comet. It’s gorgeous.

“ You come to my workplace. So really who’s doing the stalking “ she laughs and takes a sip from the plastic cup clutched in her hand.

Billy only scoffs “ nice car “.

“ Thanks. She’s a gift from my dad. Ya know, it makes up for the emotional abandonment he put me through. “

Billy almost chokes on his spit at those words.

“ Your car ain’t bad either. Sooo, is that your dinner ? “ she asks and glances towards the bag of chips in Billy’s hand.

“ What about it ? “

“ That’s not very nutritious “

“ And onion rings are ? “ there’s a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. It’s involuntarily but it’s there.

“ No but they’re really delicious “ the girl replies before holding the box out towards Billy “ and I got a little too much food so it’s your lucky night I guess. Care to join my feast ? “

For a moment he wants to say no, but what’s the alternative ? Eat chips and crackers alone in his car or go home and listen to Chase bang some random girl ?

Maybe sharing fast food on the hood of a car with some girl he just met isn’t the worst way to spend his friday night.

“ What’s your name ? “ he asks as he scoots onto the hood next to her and grabs a few fries from the box.

“ (Y/N) “

“ I’m — “

“ Billy, I know. “

“ Yeah you do. I forgot “

“ So what brings you to a 7/11 parking lot in the middle of the night on a friday ? Didn’t expect to have company tonight “

“ You do this regularly ? “ Billy laughs and munches away on another onion ring.

“ Oh whatever. “

“ I’m staying with a friend and he’s got a girl over so — “

“ Yikes, awkward “

“ Yeah. What about you ? “

(Y/N) takes another loud sip from the plastic cup “ My roommate and her boyfriend are having some epic meltdown. They have those about twice a week. Then they usually end up either crying or fucking and I’m not particularly thrilled on being around when either of that happens. “

“ Yikes. “

“ Uh-huh. “

For a moment silence settles upon them, the only thing to be heard is the buzzing sound of the neon lights. Then (Y/N) speaks up again.

“ Can I ask about the hair ? “

“ Absolutely not ! We’re not doing that. “ Bill grumbles in return.

“ Doing what ? “

“ Backstory. I don’t do that kinda stuff. “

“ Oh I’m sorry, “ (Y/N) scoffs and raises her hands in mock defence “ didn’t know you were playing the whole silent and mysterious kinda role. “

“ I don’t. Just isn’t any of your business. “

“ That’s fair “ she agrees and shakes the plastic cup only to discover it empty. Her lips are pulled into a slight pout. It’s hardly there before it’s gone but Billy just about catches a glimpse of it.

“ Guess that’s my cue to get my ass home, huh ? “ (Y/N) jokes and rattles the empty cup once again.

“ You think your friends are done ? “ Billy asks, raising a brow in question.

“ God I hope so. What about yours ? “

“ Knowing Chase, yeah. “

And it’s when they both chuckle at his words, that Bill feels something unfamiliar settling in his chest. It feels warm and comfortable and even though it’s only faint, it’s there. Joy.

They wish each other a good night and it’s not just empty words like when he says it to Neil and Susan after dinner, it’s a true statement. He hopes she has a good night, if simply for the fact that she made him feel less alone in the last few hours she’s sure deserving of it.

When he’s just about to get into his car, (Y/N)’s voice calls out to Billy once more.

“ You know, I think he would really like to see you. Maybe — maybe come inside next time and say hello. “

He doesn’t answer. Just nods. Maybe. Yeah maybe next time he will.

- OOO -

He doesn’t. But in his defence, there’s a pretty valid reason for it. At least he likes to tell himself that. He’s got a job now, one he absolutely hates but one that makes it possible for him to eat actual proper food for dinner and rent a tiny apartment at the edge of town. Is it nice there ? No. But is it better than sleeping on a couch that is too small for him ? Absolutely.

After leaving Hawkins, Billy never thought he’d ever be a lifeguard again but here he is, doing exactly the thing he said he wouldn’t at the public swimming pool. And it’s not even an outdoors pool as he had hoped. It’s inside and it’s mostly visited by old people and groups of mothers trying to teach their toddlers how to swim. Billy hates it but it seems to be the only job people are willing to give him. The only one people are willing to trust him with. He can’t blame them either. It’s not like he’s got this great resume of talents and job experience to wow them with. And really, and job is better than being dependant on Chase for everything.

It’s 3 weeks later now and he’s still feeling the invisible force holding his legs down and keeping him from entering the building. It’s ridiculous really, deep inside he knows that none of what happened was his fault, that he was just a kid. And yet it does nothing to ease his conscience.

“ You’re back again. Thought I scared you off with my bad jokes and fast food obsession “

There’s a smile on (Y/N)’s face as she exits the building and comes to a stop next to Billy. She looks tired, he wonders if it’s the job or the late night trips to 7/11.

“ Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not scared of anything “

What a load of bullshit. Billy is scared of pretty a lot of things he’s just become very good at pretending that nothing ever bothers him. He knows it’s bullshit though and by the looks of it and the little smirk playing on her lips (Y/N) knows too.

“ You gonna come inside today ? “ she asks, voice laced with hope and excitement. He hates disappointing her but he just can’t do it. There’s so many voices in his head telling him to just get it over with. But there’s one that’s louder than all the others and it’s pulling at his arms, holding down his feet. Not allowing him to step any closer to the door. That one is pure and unfiltered fear and he hates it more than anything.

Billy Hargrove is afraid of a lot of things and mostly fear itself.

“ Nah. Brought you something though “

“ Me ? “ (Y/N) exclaims, pointing at herself in disbelieve.

Billy scoff around his cigarette and holds a paper bag out to her “ It’s not much, don’t make a big deal out of it. “

“ Oh it’s a big deal. “

“ It’s not. Just — fucking take it. “

Grabbing the bag from his hand, (Y/N) walks towards the little picnic bench and pulls out two grilled cheese sandwiches and a can of coke.

“ You brought me food ? Aw, that’s so nice. This is a big deal, no boy has ever brought me food before. “

“ I said it’s not — “

“ Yeah yeah whatever you say. “

As she’s sitting down and munching away on one of the sandwiches, Billy can feel his cheeks warm up. It’s not in the same way they do when girls whisper dirty things into his ear. It’s a different feeling. One that he is not entire sure about. People don’t usually think he’s nice. No one ever called him that before. Hot ? Yeah. Charming ? Sure. But nice ? Nah.

And Billy always thought nice wasn’t as much of a compliment as it was a soft letdown. “You’re nice, but- “ .

There seems to be no “but” following (Y/N)’s words. “Nice” sounds so genuine coming from her. “Nice” sounds like the best thing anyone could be, when she says it.

“ What, you just gonna stand there and watch me eat ? Sit down, dude “

Her words are accompanied by her sliding the other sandwich over to him and nodding towards the bench across from hers. “ You brought two sandwiches for a reason. Sit down. Eat with me. Please “

Her eyes hold something that Billy hasn’t seen in so long. It’s a certain warmth. A care that runs deeply. He doesn’t know why she cares about him nor what he did to deserve it but when life grants you a good thing, you don’t fucking ask any questions. You take it.

And so he takes the seat she offered and starts chewing away on the sandwich.

“ You from here ? “ he murmures between bites.

“ Huh ? “

“ I said are you from here ? “

“ Oh I thought we weren’t doing this. Backstory an all. What made you change your mind “.

He can see she’s challenging him. The softness of her eyes is overshadowed by a glint of mischief and her lips are pulled into a teasing smirk. If this was pre-Hawkins Billy, he would’ve taken none of it. Girl like that mean work. Girls who challenge you are exhausting. Girls like that didn’t interest him in a way that he wasn’t willing to put in any effort for a small dose of bliss that comes with a blowjob or a quicky in the back of his car.

But this was a new life right ? One where he got a job not to impress people but to secure a future. To make money and to get stuff done. To maybe, one day, have a life that he can be proud of. And maybe a future that’s fit for a girl like (Y/N). That challenges him and keeps him on his toes. One worth putting in effort.

“ Guess I changed my mind “

“ Oh we’re playing like that now. Alright, okay. Yeah I’m from California. Not here but further north. Came down south for a boy. Regret the boy but not the move. Now I work as a receptionist at a nursing home. I wanted to be a nurse but couldn’t afford nursing school. So this is the next best thing. I get to hang out with the people who live here and sometimes I play guitar for them. It’s all good. “

With the warmth in her voice and the softness in her eyes, Billy can imagine she’d make a wonderful nurse. Hell she’s only met him like four times and already shows more care towards him than his father and Susan ever did. It’s quite sad to think about it that way.

“ What about you ? “

“ California born and raised. Then my dad and his wife thought it was a good idea to move to the literal buthole of america. Fucking Hawkins Indiana. “

“ Seems like you loved it there “ (Y/N) jokes before opening the can of coke and taking a sip.

“ Oh it was great. Everything you ever want in life ? It’s there. Horny housewives. Loud teenagers. People who get in your business constantly. Everything! Oh it was — incredible! “

(Y/N) nods and for a moment it almost feels like she understand. He knows she doesn’t. No one ever really can understand what the move meant to him but she’s listening and that’s a hell of a lot more than anyone’s done before.

“ Sounds delightful. Soooo, can I ask about the hair ?” she says and looks up at him through her eyelashes, seeming almost shy.

Billy feels weirdly self conscious. He’s heard his fair share of comments about the mullet. And if he’s being completely honest, he knows it looks kinda ridiculous sometimes when the perm is fresh and the curls still bouncy. But it’s the complete opposite of what his dad deems a respectable haircut. It’s so far off from the straight buzzcut Neil wants him to wear. And pissing Neil off is reason enough for Billy to cherish the mullet. But through the years he’s grown to love his hair and how it makes him — kinda special. It’s his thing just like the Camaro is and the necklace and the leather jacket. It’s part of what make him well — him.

And the girls go crazy for it too so that’s an added bonus.

“ What is it about my hair ? “

“ I don’t know, I just think it’s cool. Really contrasts your sad eyes. “

Sad eyes ? Billy doesn’t have sad eyes, does he ? Surely not because Billy isn’t sad. He’s angry and grumpy and perpetually pissed off. But he’s not sad. Sad people are vulnerable and that’s the last thing Billy would ever allow himself to be.

“ I’m not sad ! “

“ You sure ? Cause you look mighty sad. “

“ I said I’m not sad. Drop it. “

“ Alright. Alright. Sorry. Just — your hair looks really cool. I like it. “

And once again, his cheeks feel slightly warmer at that.

“ Hey I got a job “ he doesn’t know for sure why he says it. It’s not like he’s proud of the job he’s doing. All he does is make sure no one’s running on the wet floor and the old folks don’t drown on his watch. That’s about it. And he’s only earning minimum wage, barely enough to afford the apartment and food. So he surely can’t impress her with money either. Maybe he just wants someone to be proud of him for once. Even if it’s this random girls he’s been infatuated with since he first saw her. Maybe especially when it’s this girl.

“ Yeah ? That’s great. What are you doing ? “

It’s then, that he regrets ever mentioning it.

“ I uh— I’m a lifeguard at the indoor swimming pool “ he’s sure his voice tells her exactly how much he enjoys that job, not at all.

But to his surprise, she doesn’t laugh at him. Doesn’t ridicule him for his choice of work. She just smiles and that means the world to Billy.

“ That’s cool. Saving people from drowning huh ? “

“ I mostly tell kids not to run. “

“ Well you’re keeping them from getting hurt. Good for you. Didn’t even know we have a public swimming pool. I should check it out sometime. “

And by the way she smiles he can tell she means it.

- OOO -

In the following months their little lunch dates become somewhat of a habit. Billy shows up at her work at least twice a week with sandwiches or burgers and sometimes he even brings milkshakes. And though neither of them will admit it, it’s secretly the highlight to both their weeks.

Billy still doesn’t come inside. Still doesn’t visit his grandpa. Guilt still feels too heavy on his shoulders to even consider that. But seeing (Y/N) for their lunch dates, makes that weight feel almost light for the short amount of time they’re spending together. She’s always genuinely glad to see him. She’s all smiles and soft eyes and Billy doesn’t remember a time when someone actually wanted him around in that way. That someone was happy to spend time with him. It feels good and it makes the guilt disappear for a while.

Fall turns into winter when Billy decides to shake up their little routine. The air is colder and Christmas is fast approaching. Though it’s still California and cold, Billy thinks, is relative. The California winters have nothing on Indiana. That place almost made his balls freeze off.

Billy doesn’t come around for lunch that day. Instead, (Y/N) is surprised to discover him leaning against her car as she gets out of work. It’s a late shift and she’s exhausted but seeing Billy waiting for her feels weirdly domestic. It’s a nice feeling. One she hasn’t felt in a while.

“ Want a ride ? “ he asks, signature Billy grin pulling at the corner of his lips.

“ Nooo, you’re leaning against my ride. “

“ Ah come on, play along. “

“ Alright sure. Where to ? “

“ It’s a surprise “

“ A surprise ? “ (Y/N) responds, her forehead wrinkling as she pulls a face of confusion. “ Are you taking me on a date ? “

Is he ? He wonders that himself. He likes this girl, there’s no denying that. Thing is, he’s been on many dates and none of them came from a friendship. None of them were with girls that made his heart feels warm and fuzzy and light. So what is this exactly ? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that it feels good. That it feels right.

“ Just stop asking questions and let me surprise you, alright ? “

When she smiles, Billy can’t keep himself from hoping this is a date. Because her smile, as he said before, is phenomenal.

- OOO -

“ Nooo way! Are we even allowed to be here ? “ (Y/N)’s eyes are wide with disbelieve as she enters the big hall of the public swimming pool. The place is glowing in a blue hue as the pool lies still before them. A perpetual smell of chlorine seeps through her clothes as she walks closer towards the water.

“ I work here I am contractually obligated to be here even. “

“ But not at night when it’s supposed to be closed, you’re not. “

“ Ah come on now, take a walk on the wild side. Thought you girls are into that kinda stuff ? “

“ Breaking and entering ? “

“ Bad boys. Also I have a key so technically — “

He trails off as he pulls his shirt over his head.

“ What are you doing ? “

“ Well I’m not gonna swim in my jeans and shirt. And you shouldn’t either. You didn’t bring a change of clothes “.

The way her eyes wander up and down his body as he slips out of his clothes leaving him only in his boxers, doesn’t get lost on Billy. Billy is familiar with that reaction. He knows he’s good looking and he’s surely got the ego to match. But seeing that he has this effect on (Y/N) makes him feel like a million bucks.

“ I’d love to let you ogle me some more but I’m here to swim “ Billy exclaims.

“ I’m not ogling —” but before (Y/N) can finish her sentence, Billy cannonballs into the pool, creating a huge splash.

When he comes up again, his curls cling to his face and (Y/N) thinks he looks a little like a wet cocker spaniel. She also thinks he looks absolutely adorable.

“ Come on in ! You scared or what ? “ Billy hollers out towards her.

“ Scared ? Please. “

Billy knows she likes this. The challenge. The teasing. It comes so easy with her. Billy wonders if this is what was missing from his life for so long. Someone that feels easy to be around. Where he doesn’t have to walk on eggshells. Where he doesn’t have to uphold a certain image. Where he can be — well himself. The version of himself he wants to be.

“ Turn around “ (Y/N) calls out to him, slipping off her jacket in the process.

“ What ? “

“ I don’t come prepared so please spare me the embarrassment of having to show you my ugly non-matching underwear “

Billy tries hard to keep the images at bay that those words stir up in his mind. He’s sure she looks perfect whatever underwear she’s wearing, matching or not. But he can’t let himself think about that now because he’s only in his boxers and there’s no way to properly hide a boner and now THAT would be fucking embarrassing.

“ Alright, look. I’m turning around. Just hurry up! “

There’s a rustling of clothes as Billy stands with his back towards (Y/N) and before he can react a splash of water washes over him.

(Y/N) shakes her wet hair as she comes back up to the surface and Billy thinks she’s never looked better. Her hair is a wet mess clinging tightly to her skin and she’s got mascara running down her cheeks but god, that smile. That smile could light up an entire town, he’s sure.

“ You look like a poodle. Your curls are so cute “ she says and softly tugs on on a strand of Billy’s hair.

“ A poodle huh ? That’s just what every guys wants to hear when on a date. “

“ So this is a date ? “ (Y/N) asks again, a spark of curiosity in her eyes.

“ Do you want it to be ? “ he says it in a way that sounds so casual. Like it doesn’t make his heart beat faster. Like it’s no big deal. It is a big deal though. It’s a huge deal.

“ I do, “ he swears his heart beat out of his chest at those words. “ I just wish there was music. “

“ You want music ? “ Billy chimes up.

“ Can you do that ? “

He only answers her by throwing her a wink before hopping out of the pool and walking towards the little lifeguard office. It’s mostly used to store the first aid kit and the lost and found box but it also holds the intercom system and the radio that has horrible reception and really only works for one or two stations. Billy only hopes that the gods or whatever higher powers people chose to believe in are on his side tonight and that the radio is gonna play some good stuff.

A static sound fills the room as Billy presses the button of the intercom. He sets it so the it stays on without having to press the button the entire time and clears his throat once before speaking into the little microphone. “ Ladies and Gentlemen, as requested by our special guest miss (Y/N), please enjoy tonight’s musical entertainment, provided to you by— “ he pauses and turns the radio towards the microphone, “ Billy Idol. Eh, could be worse “.

Billy Idol’s “Eyes without a face” echoes through the halls of the pool. (Y/N) can’t help but feel like she’s stuck in a scene from her very own romance movie. Sure, maybe splashing around in a closed public swimming pool isn’t everyone’s dream date but to her it seems perfect.

It’s her and Billy and things don’t have to be perfect. They don’t have to be everyone else’s perception of romantic. She thinks it’s very charming. It feels a little magical even. And in the end that’s all that really matters, isn’t it ?

Her thoughts are interrupted as Billy jumps back into the pool, creating yet another huge splash.

And before either of them can really process what’s happening, they’re caught in the bliss of the moment, splashing and jumping and pushing each other into the water. It’s like for a moment nothing else matters. It’s light and easy and fun. They’re allowed to be the teenagers they are. For a night they get to forget about work and money and all the other shit weighing so heavy on their hearts and just — be. Just be silly teenagers playing around in a pool. Unbothered. Free.

Billy tries to remember the last time he got to feel like this. It’s been a while.

He wants to stay in this moment forever. Capture it in a freeze frame and never leave. Because the walls of this pool hold only laughter right now, and it’s all he ever wants to hear. All he ever wants to feel.

Billy’s chest is heaving from exhaustion. Exhaustion caused by fun. By laughter. As he leans against the side of the pool, (Y/N) surfaces right before him. There’s a shine in her eyes and he wonders if he’s the one who put it there. He hopes he is.

She’s so close now, nose almost touching his and it sends a flutter right to his stomach. Really, it’s silly. He shouldn’t be this nervous. He’s been with a lot of girls, has done a lot of things. Why does this feel so different ? Maybe because this isn’t a mean to shut up the voices. To take his mind off of all the shit going on around him. This one feels different because it is. Because it means more. Because it means so much more.

“ Hi “ she whispers, water droplets pearling down her face. She reminds him of a mermaid then, like she jumped right out of that movie Splash. Not that he’s seen much of it or can remember the plot very well, but he does remember Daryl Hannah alright. He thinks (Y/N) looks even more beautiful.

“ Hey. “

From then on, it’s heavy breathing and speeding hearts and hesitant soft touches. And then his hands find the way into her wet hair and onto her cheek and her lips brush against his. It’s merely a whisper of a touch but it’s sending little electric shocks straight through his heart and all throughout Billy’s body.

And then he pulls her as close as he can manage and kisses her just like he’s been wanting to kiss her since they hung out at the parking lot and he realized just how wonderful she really was, all bright eyes and big smiles and all.

And then — then she pulls away. The shine in her eyes is gone and is replaced by a look of utter uncertainty and hesitance.

“ You alright ? “ he asks, hands still cradling her face.

“ I like you “

Those words send another shock to his heart. He can feel the smile tugging at the corner of his lips but something about the way she says it makes him hold back.

“ I like you too. “

“ No, you don’t understand. I like you. I — I love spending time with you. You make me smile and laugh and my heart feels all gooey when you’re around but — “

There’s always a but isn’t there.

“ But ? “

“ But I feel like I don’t know you at all. I understand that you have a hard time talking about certain things and I am trying to be patient but how can I let myself fall for you when I don’t know who you are. Like — who you really are. There’s clearly things in your past that make you sad and that weigh down on you. Those things shape you in a way, they make out part of who you are and I feel like you’re purposely keeping those things from me. But how can I know you if I never get the full picture ? I want this so badly, Billy. I’m just afraid that you’ll always be a riddle to me in one way or another. “

No one’s ever asked that of him, really. There’s been girls that had this weird idea of being some kind of savior. They wanted to fix whatever they deemed broken about him and thought that their adoration could in any way lessen his greive. Though they never outright asked him about any of it. They got their gossip from whatever nosy bitch dug deep enough to figure it all out and spread it through the high school hallways. But no one’s ever asked. Until (Y/N).

And it makes all the difference.

“ My mom is dead and my dad is an abusive asshole. That’s the beginning and the end of my personality. And it turns me into a mean person. An angry one and I — I don’t want to be that person. I come with a lot of baggage and I am sorry if that’s too much but I want to be with you too. You’re the first person in a long time to actually give a shit and I am fucking ecstatic that you do. Because you’re hot and beautiful and a little weird and I’m so into that. Look I want to tell you everything but I don’t even understand half the things myself. I’ll try though. I’ll fucking try my best. If that’s good enough “.

“ That’s all I’m asking. “

He’s never been good enough. It’s a strange feeling to be told that this time he is. A good feeling. And really, he’s unsure of how to handle this. How to react.

So he reacts in a way he knows very well.

With a kiss. And another. And another.

And when he pulls away to take a breath, foreheads still touching, she takes his face in between her hands. They’re soft and gentle and it’s a complete contrast to the harsh slaps against his face that he is so painfully used to.

“ Sad boy, you’re making me fall so deeply in love with you.”

If only he could put into words how much that means to him.

If only he could articulate how much she means to him.

- OOO -

The world shift a little after that night. Billy still comes around for lunch dates but he also brings her around his flat and they spend a lot of time just lounging on his tiny couch, sharing kisses and watching Cheers.

Billy soaks it up like a sponge. The love and affection she showers him with is so foreign to him but it feels too good to deny himself to relish in it.

It’s a few weeks later, Christmas lights cover the little bushes in front of the retirement home, as Billy sits on the bench as usual, taking long drag from his cigarette.

(Y/N) mentioned once, how much she enjoys the christmas time and kept gushing about the twinkling lights that Billy’s neighbours have strung up in their front yard. Billy thinks he might have to drop by a store and get some for his place. She’s over there a lot and he’s sure it will make her smile. Her smile is worth all the hassle.

He watches an older couple sit by the little gazebo in front of the building. The man is softly holding onto the lady’s hand, keeping them warm in the chilly winter air. Up until this point, Billy hasn’t really given any thought to what his life might by like in the future. When he’s old and gray. It never really mattered. Now that he watches the couple, he hopes that his future resembles this someday. And he hopes it’s (Y/N) hands he gets to hold, wrinkles and all.

(Y/N) rests a soft hand on Billy’s shoulder. She’s always gentle with him, something he’s infinitely grateful for.

“ Hey Babe, I — “ his words get stuck in his throat as he turns around to face his girlfriend. Her eyebrows are furrowed and there’s a unsure smile on her face but that’s not what makes him stop. It’s the old man standing beside her. The one he hasn’t seen in so long. He looks exactly like Billy remembers him. The same gentle smile. The same wrinkles around his eyes. The same grey hair.

The same eyes. His eyes. His mom’s eyes.

“ Billy “

There’s no resentment in his grandpa’s voice. Nothing but kindness. Billy can’t take this. He doesn’t deserve this. This is not how he wanted this to go either. To be pushed into this situation. He was supposed to live life on his terms.

His hands are shaking as familiar rage curses through his body. (Y/N) knew he wasn’t ready. She had no right. It’s in the way he looks at her when he gets up. The way all the warmth has escaped from his eyes and is replaced by an icy glare. It’s in the way he walks past her not sparing her a single look back over his shoulder. Pure and utter disappointment.

He stalks past the gazebo and across the parking lot before coming to a halt next to his car. Maybe he was too quick to trust. It all was too good to be true anyway. Right ? Because good things don’t happen to Billy Hargrove. They never do. They never did.

Awkwardly he fumbles for another cigarette, pulling on out and dropping the rest of the box in the process.

“ Fuck.” a curse leaves his lips as hot tears are threatening to fall. He’s used to people letting him down but this one hurts more. He honest to god believed her words, believed that she would let him go at his own pace. Even if that means never entering the building.

The lighter won’t fucking work and it all comes together in an emotional meltdown washing over him like tidal wave.

(Y/N)’s feet create a crunching noise as she hurries across the gravel and toward Billy’s car. For a second he thinks about leaving. Just driving off and forgetting this ever happened. She ever happened. But he knows that is bullshit. She means too much to him. He fucking loves her and that is both his redemption and what seems like his ruin.

“ Billy I’m — “

“ You had no right ! ”

(Y/N), for the first time, sees the version of him she’s only ever heard about before. The one that is entirely made of anger and rage. It scares her a little and Billy almost feels bad. Almost.

“ I’m sorry ! I just thought — “

“ Well you thought wrong ! I told you. I told you (Y/N) “ he has to bite his lower lip to keep the tears from falling. “Boys don’t cry, Billy ! “ Neil’s voice ghosts through his head. You can’t show vulnerability. It makes you weak.

(Y/N) however, doesn’t care about any of that. He tears are freely rolling down her cheeks and Billy really wants to reach out and wipe them away. Though he can’t bring himself to do it. There’s a storm of emotions raging inside him and he has no idea where he stands in that moment.

“ I didn’t meant to betray your trust, Billy. I promise you that. I just thought that maybe you needed a little push. He talks so much about you. Billy he loves you so much. I love you so much ”.

There’s a confession there of great gravity. He hears it loud and clear though in that moment it gets overshadowed by everything else that’s going on.

“ I don’t want him to see the person I am right now, (Y/N). Mean and bitter and sad. It’s bad enough I never came around to visit after grandma died and he was sent here. I am a horrible person and I don’t want that to be the image he has of me. I — “ he takes a big breath. “ I can’t go there and look at him and see my mother’s eyes and see how disappointed he’ll be when he realizes what I turned into. He’s the only one who loved her as much as I did and I can’t live knowing I disappointed him. That I disappointed my mom”.

That’s when his self restraint breaks. The floodgates open and big tears pearl down his cheek. Sobs escape him and he’s only glad Neil can’t see him like this. Weak and vulnerable and —

(Y/N) wraps her arms so tightly around his middle that it knocks the wind out of him for a second. She’s warm and soft and (Y/N). She smells like fresh cotton and spearmint chewing gum. Like home.

Weak and vulnerable and in love.

“ Billy. You might think you’re that person. You might feel like it, but trust me when I say that you are so much more. You are not just anger and sadness. You are incredibly sweet to me. You are attentive and gentle and funny. My god you are so funny. You are smart, even if you don’t like to admit it. He’s not gonna be disappointed in you. He understands, Billy. You lost your mom when you were so young. He understands, trust me. And he loves you. So much. I love you. So much. Let yourself be loved. You deserve it !”

When he kisses her then, it feels like no kiss has ever felt before. She loves him. She loves him. No expectations and no conditions. Holy shit, she loves him.

“ I love you (Y/N) “. He really really does.

- OOO -

Billy is so nervous he could throw up on the spot. Though that would indeed make a horrible impression so he tries not to let it get to him too badly.

His grandfather gets up from the bench when he sees Billy approaching again. Before Billy can say anything, he’s wrapped in a warm hug. It’s so familiar. It feels like home.

My god, he missed this so bad.

“ Look at you kid, all grown up. No wonder miss (Y/N) has taken a liking to you. Except for that strange haircut maybe. “

Billy looks over his shoulder and catches (Y/N)’s glance before throwing her a wink,

“ Well she’s pretty spectacular too. “

“ She is yeah. So tell me what I missed, kid. It’s been a while.“

And so he does. Everything. The good, the bad, all of it. It’s hard and it’s emotional but once it’s out there, it feels like the guilt is finally take from him. The weight on his chest feels like it’s only half as heavy as before.

Then his grandpa smiles and pulls him into another hug and whispers the words that Billy wanted to hear for so long “ Your mom would be so proud of you. “

He hopes it’s true. That his grandpa knows what he’s talking about. That maybe his mom is smiling down at him from wherever she is.

But there’s another woman in his life now. One that comes with warm smiles and soft touches and laughter and eyes so bright they could light up an entire town.

And that girl is not his past. She’s no baggage. No sob story. No shadow of perpetual grief hovering above him.

She’s his present. He hopes she’ll be his future.

Because she’s everything. And he’s enough.

#hotstuffhargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

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the-observant-frisbeetarian · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 1

Bésame Mucho by George deValier

Spring, 1939 A village in Italy

"Lovino!"

Lovino did not turn at the sound of Feliciano running behind and shouting his name. He kept his eyes on the narrow dirt road, his fists clenched and his teeth gritted in irritation. The sun shone brightly overhead and a warm breeze drifted past, carrying the light, subtle scents of spring. Lovino barely noticed. His mind was still running through the events of the morning in the market. Every day, he heard the same things. 'Little Feliciano, I have the very best for you today!'… 'Oh, you didn't tell me you had such a cute brother, Lovino!'… 'Extra tomatoes? For you, Feliciano, absolutely!' Lovino was used to feeling invisible around his little brother. But sometimes it became a bit too much. Sometimes, Lovino wished that something would happen around here: something important, something where he could make a difference rather than living in the shadow of his always cute, always sweet, always noticeable little brother.

"Lovino, wait for me! Lovi… ARGH!"

Lovino spun around at the shriek to find Feliciano sprawled face first on the road. Lovino's stomach fell a little as he ran back and knelt swiftly beside his brother. "Feli, are you all right?"

Feliciano slowly pushed himself to his knees, brushed himself off, and smiled brightly. "You shouldn't walk so fast, Lovino, my legs aren't as long as yours and I can't keep up, and I don't think you always hear me when I call out and then accidents like this happen, but it's okay because I don't think I'm hurt only look, I did scrape my knee, do you think I need to see the doctor?"

Lovino rolled his eyes, holding out a hand to help Feliciano to his feet. "Don't be silly, you'll be fine." Why was he never able to stay upset with his little brother for long? "I'm sorry I was walking so fast." Once on his feet, Feliciano continued to cling to Lovino, swinging their hands between them as they continued down the road. Lovino shook his head in exasperation. Anyone would think his fourteen year old brother was actually a little child. No wonder the villagers at the market always thought he was so damn 'cute.' Lovino was barely a year older and yet he felt like the adult; the sensible, responsible one. But he let Feliciano hold his hand as they walked down the country road, eventually turning onto the narrow lane that lead to their small farmhouse.

"We're home, Grandpa!" Feliciano cried cheerfully as they walked through the front door.

"Welcome home, boys!" Grandpa Roma stood from his chair at the front table. Lovino went still when he noticed the man sitting opposite. Dark haired, shabbily dressed, with an olive complexion and wide, sparkling eyes. The young man flashed them a bright cheerful smile; Lovino eyed him warily.

"Who the hell are you?'

Roma glared at Lovino. "Watch your manners, young man." Lovino folded his arms and glanced sullenly at the ceiling. "This is a friend of mine. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo."

Feliciano looked completely confused. "Antonio... Fernando…"

"You might have to write that one down," said Lovino.

"Call me Antonio." The man stood. Lovino took a step backwards.

Roma smiled proudly as he took a step closer to his grandsons. "Antonio, this is Lovino, my oldest, and little Feliciano."

Antonio held out his hand to Feliciano, who took it in a careful handshake. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Feliciano!" Antonio's Italian was slightly accented.

"Hello! You speak funny."

Antonio laughed. "I am sorry about the accent. I am from Spain, and not used to speaking Italian."

Feliciano looked astonished. "Spain? Wow! Do you fight bulls? All Spanish people fight bulls. I read it once in a book, and there were pictures, but it made me very sad, because they were getting stabbed and it was all horrible and I ended up crying because it's just so terribly mean and wrong and... and… and it was so awful…" Feliciano blinked rapidly and sniffed. "Grandpa, I don't think I like your new friend." Lovino kicked Feliciano's foot.

Antonio laughed again. It was so wild and joyful. For some strange reason, Lovino felt his heart leap at the sound. "Feliciano, not all Spanish people fight bulls. I swear to you, I've never hurt a bull in my life."

Feliciano broke into a wide, relieved smile. "Oh, good. Well that's all right then, and I'm very sorry I said I don't like you, and I'm sure you're actually very nice."

Antonio laughed and Roma shrugged dotingly. Lovino tapped his foot and rolled his eyes. Here we go again. Someone else falling all over cute little Feliciano.

"Well, aren't you just the cutest thing," said Antonio. Feliciano tilted his head and flashed a blinding smile. Lovino looked away briefly in frustration, and when he glanced back, he found Antonio extending his hand to him. Lovino's eyes went wide, his brain froze, and he clasped his hands behind his back. Antonio dropped his hand immediately and just smiled. "And I am pleased to meet you, Lovino."

Lovino told himself to say something. Anything. To open his mouth. Now, damn it. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Grandpa Roma cuffed him over the head. "Don't be rude, Lovino. Antonio is here on a business meeting."

Lovino stared at the ground, burning with embarrassment. "Business? About the farm?" He tried to rub his head discreetly.

"Something like that. Boys, go and start dinner while we finish talking. We don't want to bore you!"

"Can we have pasta?" asked Feliciano eagerly.

"That sounds like a brilliant idea!" said Roma, smiling indulgently. Feliciano skipped happily into the next room but Lovino stayed where he was for a moment, glancing warily between Roma and Antonio. He did not know what this meeting was about, but he was willing to bet it had nothing to do with any 'business.' He was also willing to bet Grandpa Roma would not tell him anything about it. As much as Lovino felt like an adult compared to Feliciano, Grandpa Roma never treated him as anything but a child.

"Is something wrong, Lovino?" asked Roma. His tone was pleasant, but his eyes held a warning.

"No," said Lovino softly. "I'll go help Feliciano." He left the room without a backwards glance. As soon as he shut the kitchen door, however, he quickly grabbed a wine glass, held the rim against the door, and placed his ear to the stem. Feliciano looked up from where he was starting to boil water on the stove.

"I don't think you're supposed to be doing that, Lovino."

"Shut up," snapped Lovino, before adding quickly, "…and don't tell Grandpa."

Lovino could not hear much of the conversation, especially with Feliciano banging the pots and plates behind him. But a few phrases and sentences filtered through the amplifying chamber of the glass: something about an Italian alliance with Germany, about a fascist occupation of Czechoslovakia, about rumours of war, about a place called Guernica. Lovino was captivated. He had heard rumours around the village lately, but nothing like this. Nothing that sounded this serious… this important. Lovino listened to Antonio's lilting Spanish accent with a growing fascination, until he was no longer sure if it was what Antonio was saying that held him enthralled or the deep, intense, yet somehow still cheerful way the man spoke the words. Grandpa Roma's voice suddenly rose in volume and Lovino heard the words perfectly through the door.

"Tell me why do you did not just become a soldier, Antonio. Could you not accomplish something important using your skills in the military?"

"Sometimes soldiers do great things. And I, of all people, respect the desire to do duty for your country. But I have seen what the military can do. I have seen the consequences of blindly following orders. Soldiers kill innocent people, Roma. And I would die before I do that."

Lovino's pulse pounded between his ear and the glass. He felt slightly out of breath. Every word Antonio said was spoken with an edge of passion - it was like nothing Lovino had ever heard.

"I think I can trust you, Spaniard." Roma sounded satisfied.

"Lovino, do you think I need to add more…"

Lovino waved a hand at Feliciano frantically. "Ssh, shut up!"

"And I you, Roma. I will give you any and all information I am able to acquire. Let us hope, however, that this German incursion is stopped before it gets too far."

Lovino tried to breathe through the dozens of emotions flowing through him. He could not be sure of exactly what his grandfather and Antonio had been talking about, but it sounded like exactly what he had hoped for. Something different, something new, something that might finally change this stale, everyday existence where nothing ever happened and where he felt invisible and ignored. Hearing Roma and Antonio begin their goodbyes, Lovino pulled the wine glass from the door and, almost unthinkingly, opened the door a fraction to peek through. Grandpa Roma had his back to the kitchen, rifling through a pile of papers on the table. Antonio, however, stood facing Lovino, and their eyes met immediately. Lovino froze when Antonio smiled at him broadly, his light eyes sparkling. Then he winked. Lovino's eyes widened. He abruptly slammed the door shut and leant against it, his heart beating fast in his chest. His breathing came so fast he was nearly panting.

Feliciano looked up over the boiling pot and smiled. True to form, he did not seem to have noticed anything unusual. "Grandpa's new friend is really nice, don't you think?"

"No," said Lovino, frantically trying to convince himself that his pounding heart and burning cheeks were a result of the conversation he had overheard, and not that stunning smile and startling wink. "No, I don't think so at all. Oh honestly, Feliciano, you've cooked far too much pasta once again…" Lovino went to help Feliciano with the dinner, and tried to forget Antonio's brilliant green eyes.

Lovino slowly grew used to Antonio's visits over the next few weeks. To listening through doors for some idea of what was going on, to that frustrating little jump he felt in his chest whenever he heard that Antonio was visiting, to that swelling feeling of excitement he felt every time he overheard Antonio and Roma speak of escalating rumours of war. But at the same time, Lovino never quite grew used to Antonio's constant cheerful smile, to his messy brown hair and bright green eyes, to his ready laugh and joyful presence and the way he always ruffled Feliciano's hair and called him 'cute.' Lovino told himself he didn't care. He almost believed it. But then Antonio would smile at him, or glance at him in passing, and Lovino would scowl and look away, the whole time feeling unsure and confused and angry that he could not quite understand the reason he was feeling this way.

It all became quite usual and everyday until the morning everything finally struck him in understanding. Lovino sat on the low garden wall, the bright sun beating down relentlessly, thinking through the conversation he had just overheard. Antonio had a way of speaking that made everything sound important, but his words earlier as he spoke with Grandpa Roma had sounded graver than usual.

"You are still committed to this, Roma? I will do everything I can to help you. But you will be a resistance. You will be fighting against the government of your own country."

"A government that does not care for the freedom of its people. Yes, I am committed."

"And you know what you will be risking?"

"I know all too well what I am risking. But if anything is worth that risk, this is."

Lovino had left before hearing the end of the conversation, feeling like he needed air. The little garden was dappled with bright sunlight and shadow from the tall trees that surrounded the wall, the air stiflingly hot with the promise of a long summer. Lovino kicked his feet absently and stared unseeing at the rows of rosemary before him. Those words resonated in his head… "I know all too well what I am risking." His mind spun with a hundred thoughts. He had known Grandpa Roma and Antonio were planning something. But now he wondered just what exactly that was, and what it would mean. What would Grandpa be risking… what would he be doing… what exactly was the meaning of all this talk of war and Germany and invasion? Suddenly that familiar feeling of excitement carried an undercurrent of fear.

Lovino looked up at the sound of the back kitchen door opening, only to see Antonio stepping out into the garden. Lovino's heart leapt annoyingly into his throat. He shrank back carefully on the wall, but Antonio did not notice him. Instead he walked swiftly past the bright flowerbeds before leaning against the far wall by the back gate, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked slightly anxious, and quite exhausted. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and was just breathing the smoke deeply when Lovino jumped down and took a few steps in his direction. Antonio looked up sharply, then smiled. "Lovino."

Lovino stared at Antonio cautiously. He was never quite sure how to act around him; it was more confusing than it should be. Lovino folded his arms. "I've overheard you talking with Grandpa, you know."

Antonio looked politely curious. "Oh?"

"There is going to be a war, isn't there?"

Antonio's expression turned slightly uncertain. He took a draw on his cigarette and breathed the smoke out slowly. "Probably."

Lovino nodded thoughtfully. "Right. Well. I guess I'll just have to join the army then."

Antonio laughed softly, staring at Lovino with sparkling eyes. "The army?" He tilted his head slightly. "I just realised I've never asked… how old are you, Lovino?"

Lovino thought about how to answer. He thought briefly about lying. Then he realised it probably did not matter much. "Fifteen," he said huffily.

Antonio's eyebrows shot up and he looked away quickly. "Fifteen," he muttered. He shook his head, took another long draw on his cigarette, and stared at the sky for few moments. "You won't be able to join for a while then. And when you are old enough, do you even know what you will be fighting for?"

Lovino furrowed his eyebrows. What a strange question… "For Italy, of course."

"Hmm." Antonio often thought for a long time before speaking. Lovino wondered if it was because of the difference in language. He refused to admit that it fascinated him. Because it didn't, damn it. Antonio breathed out another lungful of smoke. "Sometimes, joining the army is not the best way to serve your country. Sometimes, to do what is right, you have to stand up and fight for what everyone else thinks is wrong."

Lovino swallowed heavily. Antonio had said something like that earlier. You will be fighting against the government of your own country... "I don't know what you mean."

"You will." Antonio flicked his ash on the ground and stared at it. "War is not exciting, Lovino. I sincerely hope you do not make the mistake of thinking so before you actually see it."

Lovino narrowed his eyes as he studied Antonio, thinking through everything he had overheard in the last few weeks. About civil war in Spain and fascism and that place Antonio kept mentioning, that place called Guernica… "What are you really doing here?"

Antonio thought for a moment again. "I think I am trying to fight for what is right."

"You think?"

"I hope. Unfortunately, I've never been very good at separating right from wrong. I think I've always just felt too much to truly know the difference. But this… yes, I'm sure I'm right in this. I have to be."

Lovino tried unsuccessfully to suppress the swelling in his chest. So he tried angrily to ignore it. "I didn't ask for your life story, bastard."

Antonio looked vaguely amused. "No. Forgive me, Lovino." He inhaled deeply on his cigarette, his eyes still on the ground. A heavy silence fell. Lovino was not sure if he should leave. For some reason he did not dwell on, he did not want to. He fidgeted with his hands behind his back for a moment. Antonio did not continue, so Lovino broke the silence.

"Can I have a cigarette?"

Antonio laughed. "No."

"Screw you, bastard!"

Antonio dropped the cigarette and stood on it. Then he finally looked up, his eyes meeting Lovino's, burning into them. Lovino felt his next angry words die on his lips. The hot stillness of the day seemed to close in on him. He could not move, could not breathe, could not tear his gaze from those brilliant green eyes staring into his. Antonio took a step closer then paused, shook his head, and laughed softly to himself. "Fifteen," he muttered, before turning and walking out the back gate. Lovino watched him go, his heart pounding in his ears, unsure whether to feel relieved.

Only a few days later, Lovino stood at the kitchen door, listening as Antonio explained to Roma that he was going away for a few months. Lovino was surprised, annoyed and infuriated by how upset and disappointed that made him. This was stupid. He shouldn't care, he didn't care, why the hell would he care…

"Things are moving fast, Roma. Faster than expected. Of course I will be back regularly, but from here it is up to you. You will be the face of this. I will simply be your informant."

Roma laughed raucously. "Sometimes you sound so much older than your years. Do not forget that you are talking to the youngest Italian officer to ever rise past the rank of Captain. I am quite capable of inspiring a group to victory."

Antonio's voice became cheerful and lighthearted once again. "Like any student of the Great War, I am well aware of your military accomplishments. Maggiore Vargas, hero of the Isonzo campaign. Why else do you think I am so eager to work with you?"

"All right, stop with the flattery, kid." But Lovino could hear the delight in Roma's voice. Grandpa always loved when people spoke of his celebrated military history. "You do your job, and I'll do mine."

The rest of the conversation became too soft to hear properly. When the room finally fell silent, Lovino pressed his ear as close to the door as possible. Had they left? Was their meeting over? He tried listening for the sound of footsteps, but heard nothing, until suddenly the door opened inward. Lovino cried out in surprise and fell forward, right into Antonio's steadying arms.

"Hello, Lovino!"

"Bu... wha... get off me, bastard!" Lovino's face burned and he frantically pulled himself upright, pushing Antonio away and backing up until he hit the wall behind him.

"Why do I always find you listening in doorways?" Antonio smiled at Lovino amusedly.

"It's my house," said Lovino indignantly. "And I wasn't listening, I was..." Lovino had no idea what to say. "I was... oh, go away."

Antonio smirked and nodded. "Very well." He started to walk past, but as he did, Lovino felt his hand shoot out and grasp Antonio's shirt. He was sure he hadn't meant to do that. Antonio looked down, almost as surprised as Lovino himself. Lovino's eyes darted nervously.

"You're leaving."

Antonio smirked again. "You weren't listening?"

Lovino glared at him. "It's the only way I ever find things out around here. No one tells me anything otherwise."

"Yes, Lovino, I am leaving for a while. Please don't worry, though. I will return soon enough. I will be returning quite frequently."

"I'm not worried!" Lovino spat indignantly.

"Of course not." Antonio was too close. Lovino tried to ignoring the fluttering in his stomach, tried to ignore the way his breath came faster, because he didn't care, Antonio was not making him feel like this, oh God he smelt so good, NO! "Well," continued Antonio, "I suppose this is it until..."

"Don't waste your goodbyes on me, bastard, go find my cute brother and say farewell to him instead." Lovino immediately winced at his words. Crap, damn it, why did he say that? That hadn't come out as sulkily as it sounded, surely...

Antonio just let out a breath of laughter. "Oh, Lovino." Antonio took a step towards him and Lovino pressed himself even closer to the wall. Then Antonio leant over and rested his hand slowly, lightly, against Lovino's side. Lovino's eyes widened. His heartbeat increased, his palms started to sweat, and the back of his neck burned with a heat that quickly spread through his entire body. Then he felt Antonio's breath hot against his ear. "Feliciano is cute, Lovi. But you are beautiful."

Lovino was stunned. Beautiful. Antonio had called him beautiful. Not cute, not adorable, not sweet; something more than any of that. Antonio had said it to him, to him alone; whispered it in his ear when no one else could hear, words meant only for Lovino. This was too much. Lovino could think of only one way to deal with these wild, confusing, unfamiliar feelings racing through him. He squared his shoulders, drew back his fist, and punched Antonio square in the jaw. "You don't call boys beautiful, you creep!"

Lovino turned and stormed from the room, pretending he did not hear Antonio laughing behind him.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

#George deValier #Besame Mucho #veraverse #Besame Mucho chapter 1

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