#i hate hate Hate HATE late december. so unbelievably much

[scooplery]

i am so significantly impaired by my mentol illnesses Lol 😔

[holdmeclosertinytaron]

RHW: Chapter Three

Story Page / Playlist / Wattpad / AO3

A/N: I am so unbelievably sorry that this is only just getting to you! I've been on holiday to the coast this week and totally forgot to schedule the chapter before I left. Then when I got there, I had pretty much no signal and no access to any decent internet so when I tried to post it, it failed. However, it does mean you get two chapters this week which is a bonus! Thank you for your patience.

And thank you, as always, to my saving grace during this whole writing process, @brayndilyn. You are amazing and I'm so lucky that you popped into my DMs that day last year. Life is brighter with you in it!

Warnings: Explicit language, narcissistic behaviours, rough relationships with maternal figure.

Word Count: 7.4k

December 23rd, 2021

Last minute work obligations for Taron and planning a book tour while also trying to continue her job for Liliana resulted in them not seeing one another since they’d had dinner and drinks. It wasn’t for lack of trying, either. They had both offered multiple dates that they were free but their schedules never lined up properly which neither of them enjoyed. 

Despite their busy schedules, they had maintained their regular text conversations and it had reached a point that if Liliana hadn’t heard from Taron for as little as a few hours, she noticed she’d started to pout which worried her. The attachment she had for being friends with Taron again was growing stronger and his absence had begun to affect her more than she cared to admit. 

It wasn’t a secret that she had been far happier since getting him back in her life. Though it only heightened how unhappy she had been before. If she was this sad not hearing from him for a few hours, she dreaded to think how she would feel if the happiness she’d only just gotten back was taken away. No doubt she would be worse than before the book launch. The thought alone scared her. 

If Liliana had been completely honest with herself, not something she was regularly, she would have told herself that the feelings she had for Taron were slowly beginning to transform into slightly more romantic feelings of late. It had been Evelyn’s comment about them being a power couple that made her realise. She didn’t hate the comment her best friend had made, and found herself fantasising about a life with Taron on the tube home that evening. 

It wasn’t difficult to imagine the future and what it could look like with Taron. Them being together and doing all the things; the small domestic activities like cooking together or watching TV curled up in one another’s arms, and the grand things like holidays abroad and attending events on one another’s arms. At work she found herself drifting off to think about him until Evelyn came into her office and knocked her back to reality with a thud. 

Liliana’s feelings were unrequited. He couldn’t ever feel that way about her. He was an award winning actor and she was, well she was Liliana. She had a published book and that was as interesting as her life got. How could he ever think that way about her? He never did when they were younger. What would have changed in the years they weren’t in contact with one another? 

As their road trip to Aberystwyth approached, Liliana couldn’t stop thinking about being in such an enclosed space with Taron for so long. Her stomach twisted any time she thought about it. Every night before bed she gave herself a peptalk, telling herself that she had to play it cool and see if she could get a read on Taron to decipher how he felt about her. If he felt anything about her at all. 

It wasn’t the time to be making any grand gestures. They’d only been in contact again for a little over six weeks and she didn’t want to ruin what they had built back up. Especially not so close to Christmas. 

On the morning he was due to pick her up for the drive home, she’d been a ball of nerves since her eyes opened. She anxiously flitted around her flat trying to get everything packed and tidied up before he got there. She cleaned every room twice and had reached the point of moving things from one place to another and then decided that she preferred them where they were before so moved them back. It was a vicious cycle that she couldn’t get herself out of. Until Taron arrived. 

Taron had arrived a little earlier than planned to pick Liliana up, which was absolutely unheard of with London traffic, and Liliana wasn’t quite ready. She’d been in the middle of grabbing her toiletries when he texted to let her know he was there. 

I’m just finishing getting my stuff together. I’ll buzz you in and you can come wait up here if you’d like? Instead of sitting in the car x 

No problem. I’ll be there shortly x

No more than a second had passed between him pressing the buzzer and Liliana letting him in, pulling her front door open so he could walk right in without having to knock. Not that she would have wanted him to knock. All of her friends let themselves into her flat and she wanted Taron to feel comfortable enough to do the same. 

With her suitcase now packed completely, she moved to the living room to get her handbag ready. When it came to roadtrips, no matter how short, she took them seriously. She stood in front of her bookshelf and stared at her many books to decide which one to take with her. Her own book, which was selling out everywhere at a rapid pace, sat front and centre staring at her and she smiled to herself. 

‘I know you said your flat was tiny but this is petite,’ Taron commented as he walked through the front door into the narrow entryway that led to each of the three main rooms. He stepped around the suitcase Liliana had left and into the living room where she was trying to pick a book. ‘You know you’re only going for a week, right? That’s one hell of a suitcase for that short a trip.’ 

His words were light and teasing but Liliana went into panic mode. ‘If it’s too big for the car I can get a smaller one. It’s just got all of the Christmas presents I need to take and I don’t have any spare clothes at mum’s or anything.’ 

‘I was joking,’ he said quickly, putting his hands on her shoulders. ‘It’s fine. There’s plenty of space. Hello, by the way.’ 

‘Hi,’ she smiled, allowing him to pull her in for a hug. He smelled good. Fresh and clean and warm. Her arms tightened around his middle a little before she pulled away. ‘I just need to decide on a book to bring with me, or two because I get through books like I do cups of tea, and make sure everything is switched off and things are tidy and then I’m ready. Sorry I wasn’t ready to go when you got here.’ 

‘Don’t be sorry. I’m early. I was shocked at the lack of traffic, especially considering it’s the day before Christmas Eve.’ 

‘Merry Christmas,’ Liliana said, pulling two books from the shelf and putting them in her bag. ‘I can’t believe it’s already here.’ 

She walked through to the kitchen with Taron hot on her tail. The room was small and barely big enough for them both to stand in there at the same time. Their close proximity heightened their senses and Liliana had to clear her throat to break herself back into reality. 

Taron cleared his own throat and offered to help Liliana check the switches. He himself had spent a good fifteen minutes checking each room of his flat to make sure that everything was in order. Liliana accepted his offer and asked if he could triple check the living room for her. He saluted playfully and headed back to the other room while Liliana took a deep, much needed breath. 

‘I may have gone overboard because I got us some snacks for the road and I didn’t know what you’d prefer so there’s a selection of goodies from chocolate to snack bars to fruit,’ she confessed as she left her bedroom and pulled the curtain closed. ‘Knowing me I will also buy more snacks if we make a stop anywhere on the way there.’ 

Taron chuckled. ‘That sounds amazing. I’ve packed a couple of bits too and I always stop. I thought we could maybe stop for lunch? Even if it’s a drive-thru meal somewhere. You ready to go?’ 

Liliana nodded, reaching forward to grab her suitcase but Taron stopped her, his hand already on the handle pushing it down so that he could carry it easier. ‘I’ve got it, don’t worry. You just make sure that everything is locked up properly.’ 

‘You are a menace,’ she laughed as she followed him out of the flat. ‘But thank you. Make sure you watch me lock up. I will ask multiple times if I actually did lock up. I have already asked Marjorie across the way if she’ll keep an eye on things for me.’ 

Taron watched intently as Liliana locked the door and tried it to make sure that it was actually locked. ‘It’s locked. Come on, let’s get going.’ 

***

‘See that, that is why I refuse to drive in London. I hate how impatient other drivers are. Did you see the way he gestured at you?’ Taron had switched lanes on Wandsworth bridge over the Thames when a car sped in front of him and caused him to slam the brakes on. Taron had simply brushed the incident off but Liliana was baffled. ‘We’ve been on the road for five minutes and I already don’t know how you can drive so casually here. It’s awful.’ 

Taron chuckled softly from next to her, turning his attention to her when they hit a red light and he had to stop. ‘When was the last time you drove?’ 

Liliana thought for a moment. She had driven once in London, right when she first moved, and hated it so much that she hadn’t driven since. But even before that she rarely drove. 

‘Oh god at least eight years,’ she laughed. ‘I never really enjoyed driving anyway. I much prefer being the one in control of the music. Which, by the way, I am excellent at, thank you very much.’ 

As they got in the car, Taron passed the auxiliary cable over, telling Liliana that she may be in charge of the music, just as long as her music taste was better than it was when she was a teenager. She’d laughed him off but quietly deleted three songs from the playlist she’d made the night before just in case.

‘You are going to have to give me some songs to add otherwise it’s going to be a Harry Styles road trip which personally, I wouldn’t be against. But that’s me who’s a fan of his.’ 

‘You know I met him once,’ Taron said casually, keeping his eyes on the road. Though he didn’t fail to notice her face turn towards him suddenly, no doubt with wide eyes. He’d just about seen her drop the phone into her lap. 

‘You met him?’ She asked, blinking rapidly. ‘Harry Styles? What? When? Huh? How do I not know about this already? My two favourite men.’ 

She’d let the last sentence slip on accident but couldn’t take it back. Taron had heard it, and the twitch of his lips made it clear that he definitely had heard it. He laughed lightly and indicated into the junction so he could get on the motorway for the big portion of the drive. 

‘It was a couple of years ago now in LA. It was this big meeting thing with Joni Mitchell. There were a few other people there too. Ellen Degeneres and Portia.’ 

‘Yeah, yeah cool. But you met Harry Styles?’ 

‘I did. We didn’t speak much but we had a good chat. Then there was this group photo that circulated the internet for a few days. He looked so much more put together than I did. I think he had this black cardigan on with a pattern on the front or something. I was there in a white t-shirt and a baseball cap.’ 

Liliana’s eyes widened. ‘I think I know the photo. Was it around this time of year? Joni had Christmas lights around her neck. I’ve seen a cropped photo of Harry and her. But you were there? Holy shit, Taron.’ 

She sits with the information for a little while, unable to process the fact that her best friend knows the man whose music got her through some of the hardest days of her writing process. Just as she thought about it, Sign of the Times started playing. 

‘Do you think you could introduce us?’ She asked, letting her inner fangirl out. ‘That would make my entire life, honestly. Getting to meet Harry? Oh boy.’ 

Taron turned to look at her briefly, his eyes soft and full of adoration. ‘Absolutely not,’ he said, shaking his head before turning back to the road in front. ‘You’ll fall for him and I’ll lose you again.’ 

‘You won't lose me again,’ Liliana laughs solemnly. 

Taron’s words sat heavy on her chest. I’ll lose you again. He’d lost her once before. She’d left him. What was once her strongest friendship with her favourite person on the entire planet had been thrown away so that she could run away to another country for a life where she didn’t have to be around her mum. The giddiness she experienced knowing that Taron knew Harry vanished and she was overcome with a solemn, uneasy feeling. 

‘I’m really, really sorry,’ she whispered. She’d moved back to face forward and had let her hands drop to her lap. ‘For leaving. I’m sorry for leaving.’ 

‘Please don’t,’ he whispered back, sniffling once to rid himself of the tears pooling in his eyes. ‘It’s in the past. The only thing that matters now is that you’re here. I’m here. We’re here.’ 

Wordlessly, he reached over to grab her hand, resting them both together on the centre console. They weren’t holding hands but they were touching, and it was enough for them both to know that they were safe and with one another. 

Taron didn’t need Liliana to apologise for leaving. He didn’t want her to. It may have taken him over a decade but he knew why she had to leave. He read her book. It told him things even he didn’t know growing up. It told him more than he could have ever imagined and his heart shattered into millions of tiny pieces as he read the intricate details of her childhood. The details she hadn’t shared with him before. 

As much as he wanted to bring up what had been revealed to him in the pages, he didn’t want to make Liliana talk about it if she didn’t want to. He couldn’t begin to imagine how difficult it must have been for her to put everything down into words, to come to terms with what happened in her life. It can’t have been easy to publish that and have so many people read it and know about it. 

He was in awe of the strength it must have taken her to bare her soul in such a way to the entire world. Reading the book that she’d so delicately written made Taron see Liliana for the strong, independent, powerful, yet softly adorable woman she was. 

He didn’t bring it up for a little while. He let himself enjoy the comfortable silence, no matter how overrated he thought it was, and let Liliana have a few moments to herself. His hand remained touching hers the entire time and he wanted so badly to run his pinky finger over her to reassure her but he didn’t want to scare her or make her feel uncomfortable. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since their dinner and he was over the moon to see her again and spend a few uninterrupted hours with her. 

‘Lil,’ he said after a little while, unable to keep it in any longer. She turned to him with red rimmed eyes and when he turned to her momentarily, his heart cracked just a little. ‘It’s none of my business, and we absolutely don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to but it’s been on my mind ever since I read your book.’ 

Liliana’s heart stopped. She knew that he would more than likely have read some of the book since she’d seen him last. But she hadn’t expected him to read the entire thing cover to cover with his busy schedule. She’d expressed feelings in the book that she hadn’t ever expressed with him and now he knew. He knew everything she’d been too afraid to tell him. 

Taron was back to facing the road and he took a long, shaky breath. It was just as hard for him to bring up as it would be for Liliana to talk about. ‘I never realised the full extent of how bad you had it when we were younger. You always just threw your hair up and smiled like everything was fine when it really wasn’t. I wish I could have recognised it more at the time.’ 

‘Taron, it’s fine.’ 

‘It’s not fine, Lil,’ he sniffled. ‘It’s not fine. It was never fine.’ 

‘But it’s not your fault. We were kids. You were a kid. It wasn’t your responsibility to help me or see what things were like at home. I didn’t even realise the full extent of it until I was in Edinburgh and away from the situation. It took a lot of reflection, and a lot of crying in a therapist’s office, to realise what things were like. When we were kids, I didn’t know any different. It was just the way that I lived.’ 

A tear fell down Taron’s cheek and Liliana wiped it with the pad of her thumb, a sad smile on her face as she started to cry herself. 

‘Look at us. I’m crying and none of it even happened to me.’ He took a long, deep, shaky breath and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his t-shirt. ‘I regret that we lost touch.’ 

Liliana squeezed his hand once to tell him that she agreed and he smiled a very small smile at her. 

‘We just completely lost touch and didn’t speak for fourteen years. I hate that we didn’t talk.’ His words were quiet, barely above a whisper, almost as if he were talking to himself rather than Liliana. ‘Now that we’ve finally reconnected, I would love nothing more than to stay in touch. I want us to keep our promises this time. I think that’s why I offered to drive you back to Aber. It gives us some uninterrupted time to just be together and talk about anything. Or nothing. I just want to be around you, Lil. I want us to be friends again. Real friends like we were before.’

‘I would love nothing more than to be friends again,’ Liliana smiled. 

‘Things will be different this time around,’ Taron said strongly. ‘I won’t let anything like that happen to you again.’

They fell into another silence and Liliana focused on the road ahead. She thought back to being a child and how different her life really had been from the other kids in her class. Taron’s hand on hers kept her grounded as she remembered. 

While all of her friends were out playing on the street on their bikes or playing with a ball in the local field, Liliana was cleaning or cooking dinner for the family. Even when she was as young as nine. She would go to the shop daily when they had run out of bread or milk or sugar and they needed more. When her friends were being called inside to get in the bath, she was making her mum a cup of tea so that she wouldn’t get into trouble. 

Liliana would do everything in her power to make her mum happy, just so she could feel safe in her own house. If Eliza wasn’t happy, she would brush Liliana off completely. It had started before her dad left but it only got worse when he did. Eliza resented Liliana and took her anger and frustration out on her. Liliana being the kid that she was, would always plaster a smile on her face and act as though nothing was wrong, using the free time she had to go outside with Taron or visit his family when she needed somewhere safe to be. 

She wiped a tear away without Taron seeing and blinked hard to stop herself from falling apart right there in his car. Taron had remained quiet but he knew she was going into a place that would make her sad and he wanted to cheer her up so he racked his brain for things he could distract her with. 

‘Tell me more about Matilda,’ he said, remembering how Liliana had lit up the first time she told him about her. 

‘She’s a little firecracker,’ she laughed, pulling up a photo of her on her phone to show Taron quickly while there was no traffic around. ‘She turned ten in August but if you knew her, you wouldn’t believe she was any younger than 21. She’s so smart. Smarter than I ever was at her age, and she’s got these beautiful brown eyes that just scream innocence. It’s one of the only differences between us; our eye colour. And our height. She’ll be taller than me soon. Her dad is a giant though so it doesn’t surprise me. She’s everything I ever wanted. Tell me more about Rosie and Marie. We were cut off the other week.’ 

‘If Matilda is a firecracker then they are little rascals,’ he chuckled, his head shaking. ‘They are to me what Matilda is to you. They’re my half siblings but I would never call them anything but my sisters. I hate the whole half sibling thing. They are my sisters and it’s as simple as that.’ 

Liliana nodded furiously. ‘Yes! Matilda is my sister. I’d be so mean to be like ‘no she’s just my half sister’. She isn’t half a sibling. She’s a full sibling.’ 

‘Exactly. They are honestly so amazing and I can’t wait to see them. They’re similar ages to Matilda. Maybe one day we could take them all out somewhere and they could get to know another. Continue the legacy of friendship.’ 

‘That’d be cool. Matilda loves meeting and talking to new people. Another difference between the two of us. Thank you for cheering me up. I don’t know how you always manage to do it. Even when you don’t know I need cheering up.’ 

Taron grabbed her hand affectionately. ‘It’s because I know you, Lil.’ 

***

‘Do you want me to come inside with you for a little bit?’ 

‘I’m okay, thank you though,’ Liliana responded with a smile.

She turned to her left and looked at the house she grew up in. It still looked like the same house. The bricks were still red and the path from the steps was worn and full of weeds. Yet somehow it felt different than it had the previous year and she couldn’t quite figure out why. It was the only house on the street without Christmas lights outside but she didn’t think that was it. 

‘If you need anything, just let me know,’ Taron replied with a smile. Liliana returned it and took a deep breath. ‘I’m here for you, Lil.’ 

‘I know you are, thank you, Taron. I’ll text you later?’ 

Taron nodded and watched as Liliana stepped through the gate and up towards the house. He didn’t know what was waiting for her at the other side of the door but he could only hope that it was something good. 

Rather than use her key to get in the house, Liliana knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer it. Much to her surprise, Hudson, her mum’s husband, opened it with a smile, pulling her into an awkward side hug. 

‘It’s nice to see you. Your mum’s just nipped to do some last minute Christmas shopping. I don’t envy her.’ 

‘Neither do I,’ Liliana said through a forced smile. ‘Merry Christmas.’ 

‘Merry Christmas. I’m sure your sister will be down any minute. She’s making some Christmas biscuits and is waiting for them to cool so she can decorate them. Every time someone’s knocked at the door today she’s come to see if it’s you. I think she’s more excited for you to be here than she is Santa. Not that she’ll believe in him for much longer. Especially with her starting high school next year.’ 

‘High schoolers suck,’ Liliana sighed. ‘You go get yourself in the house. It’s absolutely freezing out there and I don’t want to let it all in.’ 

Hudson walked through to the living room just as Liliana heard a door shut upstairs. She watched as her little sister, who wasn’t so little anymore, peered over the bannister and beamed as soon as she saw her. 

‘LILI!’ she squealed as she ran down the stairs, launching herself into Liliana’s arms and knocking her to the floor in a heap of hugs. ‘I’ve missed you.’ 

‘I’ve missed you too, little bug.’ Liliana’s voice broke and she tried her best not to cry. She held Matilda close, swaying her lightly. ‘Come on, your dad was telling me that you’ve been making biscuits and you know I love a good old Matilda biscuit.’ 

Matilda stood up and waited impatiently for Liliana to join her before she dragged her through to the kitchen. The dining table was covered in biscuits and bowls of icing of different colours. Bowls that were used to make the dough were scattered across the work tops and the sink was full of trays and cookie cutters. 

The amount of flour that was on every surface made it look like it had been snowing inside and Liliana was sure there was biscuit dough on the walls in places. 

‘Oh my this is a mess,’ she commented with a beaming grin. ‘How about I help you clean it all up before mum gets back?’ 

Matilda nodded begrudgingly. ‘The biscuits aren’t cooled enough anyway so I guess I can help clean up. Do you think you could help me decorate them? Please? It’s been ages since we last baked together.’ 

Liliana nodded, turning the small kitchen radio up a little so that they could listen to the Christmas songs while they cleaned. All I Want for Christmas is You played into the room and the two girls smiled widely at one another, instantly breaking out into their best dance moves and singing along. 

Matilda started to stack the pots she’d used next to the sink so that they could be cleaned while Liliana carefully wiped the walls that were definitely splattered with biscuit dough and scraped the sides of flour so that she could clean them properly. 

Once the room was clean and tidy, and the biscuits were finally cool enough to decorate, Matilda grabbed two aprons from behind the door and threw one to her big sister. 

‘If you wear this then we won’t get icing all over your nice jumper,’ she said, tying her own apron behind her waist. 

‘When did you get so grown up?’ Liliana mused, holding the sides of Matilda’s head so she could bring it to her lips to plant a sloppy kiss. ‘How do you want to decorate these?’

‘With as much icing as we can!’ Matilda dipped her finger into the green icing and licked it clean, smiling so brightly as she did that she lit some of the darkness in Liliana’s heart. 

‘I should have known. I forget that you’re little miss obsessed with icing. They’re your biscuits so it’s up to you what we do with them.’ 

Matilda thought for a moment, tapping her foot against the chair the same way that Liliana did when she was her age. Liliana smiled at her little sister, so in awe of the person she was becoming. When she was Matilda’s age, her life looked so different. She was glad that it was different for her sister. That she wouldn’t have to go through the things she did. 

‘I’m taking some to Granny and Grandad’s house tomorrow so they need to look super good. Can we do melting snowmen on the circle ones?’ 

Liliana nodded enthusiastically. ‘Of course we can! I might have some spare chocolates in my bag if you want to go get them? We could use it for buttons? Or eyes maybe.’ 

‘Oh yes please!’ 

Matilda jumped down and ran through to the hallway to retrieve Liliana’s handbag, walking back with it on her shoulder and strutting as if she were the grown adult. Liliana laughed at her and took the bag to see what she had left from the car journey. 

She pulled out a bag of M&Ms and some Jelly Tots, the perfect things for snowmen buttons. ‘These are perfect.’ 

‘Jelly Tots, my favourite!’ Liliana poured some of the jelly sweets into Matilda’s hand and watched as she ate them happily. ‘Thank you. Other than the snowmen I want to take to Granny’s tomorrow, I don’t know what to do with the others so let’s just do whatever.’ 

‘Aye aye, captain,’ Liliana saluted. ‘Are you excited to see your Granny and Grandad tomorrow?’ 

Matilda nodded. ‘Yeah. Are you coming with us?’

‘I’m not, sorry sweetheart. I’m going to stay here and either go for a walk or go and see my friend if he isn’t busy.’ 

‘Are you going to be here for dinner tomorrow though?’ 

Liliana shrugged gently. ‘That depends on if mum wants me here, sweet girl. Hopefully I’ll be here.’ 

Her mum walked into the kitchen and scoffed at Liliana. ‘What’s it matter to me if you come for dinner or not? You come and go as you please anyway.’ 

‘Mum, please let’s not do this right now,’ Liliana begged, already feeling tears forming. ‘It’s Christmas.’ 

‘When was the last time you asked if you could come, huh? You just turn up. Like you did today. You turn up and then you leave at the drop of a hat and we don’t see you for months at a time. You aren’t around enough so why should I care if you’re here or not for dinner?’ 

Matilda cowered into her seat and reached over to put her hand on Liliana’s, looking up at her through thick eyelashes. Liliana gave her a small smile and motioned for her to leave the kitchen, for her own benefit. She didn’t need to hear the horrible things her mum was no doubt about to say. 

Liliana watched as her mum flipped the kettle on and grabbed a mug from the cupboard. It was a mug Liliana had made her in school and painted meticulously. She wondered if her mum remembered how happy she had been to receive it. Probably not with how she slammed it onto the work top. 

‘I always come at Christmas. You know that. I would love to come more often but I have to put myself and my happiness first.’ 

Eliza rolled her eyes at her oldest daughter and put her hand on her hip. ‘Do you know how selfish that is, Liliana? You don’t care about Matilda, or me, or put us first. It’s always about you and how you come first. You should have stayed closer to home and not run away to Edinburgh and London. Look at what you moving away has caused. You’re selfish.’ 

‘That’s not true and you know it isn’t,’ Liliana just about managed to get out. Tears had pooled in her eyes and she knew if she stayed then things would only get worse and she didn’t want that. 

She wasn’t going to be the reason that Christmas was ruined for Matilda so she grabbed her bag, walked outside, closed the door behind her and started to walk. 

The last thing she wanted to do was leave Matilda again. She wanted to go back and get her but she knew that it was too soon to be around Eliza again. It wasn’t the first time that she’d left Matilda after a row with her mum, and it wasn’t the first time her mum had called her selfish either. 

September 15th, 2011

‘North Road, please.’ 

Liliana sat back in the taxi and exhaled a long breath. The greying clouds above the car reflected her mood. Dull and ready to burst at any given second. She rested her head against the window as the taxi drove through the streets of Aberystwyth and to the house she’d grown up in. Her small suitcase filled with only the essentials was on the seat next to her and she put her hand on it for no reason. 

Despite the deep rooted feeling of anxiety she had whenever she was home, she was excited to head back and start her new job in London. She started working at a publishing company, Between the Lines, at the end of the week with Evelyn, who she had met at university. The flat she was moving into was small and a good half an hour commute to work but it was her own and she could do with it what she pleased. Moving to London was all she had wanted. 

The taxi pulled up outside the house with the red front door and Liliana thanked him and handed over a five pound note, telling him to keep the forty-pence change. He nodded his gratitude before driving off when the back door was closed, leaving Liliana standing outside the house on her own for the first time since she was a teenager. 

She couldn’t tell if the house was bigger or smaller than it was when she was younger. It seemed taller, as if booming over her and showing her just how vulnerable she was in its presence. But at the same time, it seemed narrower, less scary than it once looked.

As she walked up the short, tiled path to the front door she breathed deeply. A whole other life was at the other side of the door. A whole other family. A family she wasn’t a part of. Not really. Her mum and stepdad were happily married with a new baby and it was the first time that she was seeing her new sister since she’d been born a little over a month earlier. 

Something that she couldn’t quite decipher washed over her as she pushed the door open on its hinges. Her feet were heavy, stuck to the wooden floor and unable to move, but she felt like she was floating. As though she wasn’t really there. Like she was dreaming and nothing was really happening. 

Everything looked the same as she slipped her shoes off and stacked them on one of the steps above her mum’s. There were old family photos on the wall, some of her grandparents and some of Eliza with her siblings. Out of all the photos, there was only one of Liliana. It was a photo from when she was a baby dressed in white with the most unfortunate looking bonnet on her head. She was both happy and devastated that it was covered by coats. 

‘Liliana, is that you?’ Her mum called from the living room. Liliana psyched herself up and forced a smile on her lips. 

‘Yeah, mum. I’m just putting my shoes away and then I’ll come in.’ 

The living room door was slightly ajar and as Liliana pushed it open, she could see her baby sister asleep in the moses basket next to the sofa. Even just the sight of the tiny baby curled up all small and tiny had Liliana fighting back tears. Guilt had built up since the day she was born that she hadn’t seen her and even though she was still so small, Liliana hated that she wasn’t there when she was even tinier. 

‘Can I hold her?’ She asked her mum quietly, scared to wake the tiny baby.

‘Yeah. I’m going to go get in the shower while you’re here. I’ll not be long.’ 

Liliana nodded through a teary smile and dropped her handbag on the sofa so that she could take a proper look at her sister. Her hands were curled into tiny fists next to her head and her lips were pouted slightly, something that Liliana did when she slept. With one hand underneath her neck to support her head and one under her bum, Liliana lifted the baby from the basket and held her close, staring at her. 

At almost twenty-two, she didn’t expect to have a new sibling but as soon as her sister was in her arms, she could feel the emotions manifesting wholly. Tears dropped down her cheeks as she sat on the sofa and just stared at the baby. She enjoyed the dumpy weight of her sister in her arms. 

Liliana held out one of her fingers to stroke the little one’s fingers and they gripped around it tightly, not letting her go.

‘I’m not quite sure how it’s possible but I love you more than I’ve loved anything before,’ she whispered quietly, pressing a dainty kiss to her sister’s forehead. ‘I won’t let anybody hurt you, Matilda, I promise. I’ll always be your protector.’ 

Matilda stirred slightly but Liliana rocked her back to sleep, so in awe of the tiny human in her arms. 

‘Look at you,’ Eliza spoke up from the doorway when she’d had her shower. ‘It’s about time you came to meet her.’ 

‘Mum, you know I’ve been finishing university and trying to get my life together. I haven’t been able to be here all of the time like I wanted to be and I am sorry.’ 

When Eliza told her that the baby had been born, Liliana went to book a train ticket straight away to meet her, even if it was just for the day. She wanted to help her mum and meet her sister and be there for her family the way she had always wanted to, but Eliza had continuously put the visit off for one reason or another. 

Liliana could understand some of the time, like when she was too tired for visitors. But then the excuses that she needed to get used to looking after a baby after not having one for over twenty years, and needing to take time for herself, became more common and Liliana stopped fighting. She stopped trying to tell her mum that she could nap while Liliana looked after Matilda or she could have a bath or shower. Liliana would be there for whatever she needed. Eliza never let her though. 

Eliza scoffed loudly. ‘You’re just selfish, that’s what it is. Spending more time away from us, your home, and swanning about Scotland as if nobody else matters. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Liliana’ 

Liliana tried her best not to bite. Instead she casts her gaze to Matilda who was so sweet and innocent and who she would do anything in her power to change the way she was treated. When she looked back up to her mum she saw just how tired she looked. For a second she felt great sympathy for her. She wasn’t used to not sleeping at night and waking up at all hours to look after a baby. And that’s what it took for her mind to race with thoughts of her mum being unable to look after Matilda. 

She didn’t want the same things she went through to happen to Matilda. She wanted her sister to have the best childhood with loving parents in a loving home that always felt like a safe space and somewhere she could run to when she was feeling down. Liliana didn’t want Matilda to feel like she had to run away to a different country for university just to get away from their mum. 

Eliza’s new husband, Hudson, worked long hours and was only there on an evening and night time when Matilda was a little more settled. He wasn’t there during the day when Matilda would scream for hours at a time with no let up. He wasn’t there when Eliza was rocking her trying to get her to sleep and growing more and more agitated with her and wanting to leave her on her own to cry. 

‘Mum, I know that university has taken me away and I hate that I haven’t been here for the start of Matilda’s life but I’m here now. I’m here to support you however you need it. Even if it’s just to go shower in peace and make yourself feel like you again.’ 

She knew there was a chance that Eliza would blow up but she didn’t think it would happen while she had Matilda in her arms. 

‘Why, are you planning on moving back home? Are you finally going to do what you were destined to do and get a job on the seafront and get one of the crappy flats in town? Which is it? How are you going to be here, Liliana?’

‘I moved to London last week,’ Liliana said calmly, rocking Matilda again. ‘I have a job with the same publishing company that I worked with for placement a couple of years ago. It’s a huge opportunity for me and I’m going to be a shorter train ride away than I was in Edinburgh. So I can be here whenever you need me. I want to be here, for Matilda.’ 

Eliza shook her head. ‘You need to stop butting into our lives here. Leave.’

‘What?’ 

‘You haven’t been here for the past four years so what makes you think you’re going to be here now? You’re never here and I don’t think you ever will be. You just want to say that you’re here. But you won’t be. I want you to leave my house.’ 

‘But mu-’

‘Out, Liliana. I mean it.’ 

Liliana was transported back to being eleven and hearing her mum scream at her dad to get out of the house. Her heart sank and anxiety built from the bottom of her tummy to the top of her head. She stood up carefully and kissed Matilda’s head again before placing her gently in the moses basket. 

‘I love you, little bug. I love you so much.’ 

She cried as she pulled her shoes on and got her suitcase from the small cupboard, and she cried as she left the house and locked the door again. 

***

Despite Autumn’s fast approach, the air was warm and Liliana knew exactly where she needed to go to clear her head. On top of Constitution Hill the sun was warm and she’d taken her jacket off to enjoy the rays against her arms. 

The tree behind her was beginning to transform, its leaves changing from a vibrant green to a reddish brown. Another sign of the changing season. The bark of the trunk was harsh against her back but nowhere near as harsh as her mother’s words had been to her less than an hour before. 

A sob escaped her and tears spilled down her cheeks and pooled on her chest. Her breaths were sharp and uneven, as though hands wrapped around her throat and squeezed her of every ounce of breath, trapping her in a world of darkness. 

Fear was second nature to Liliana. It had been since she was a little girl. But there was something about the fear she felt on top of the hill that was unlike anything she’d experienced before. She sobbed to herself for what felt like hours but as she finally began to calm down and her breathing regulated again, she pulled her phone from her bag and unlocked it. 

Her thumb hovered over his contact. The one person she needed to speak to. The person who would understand what she was going through and who would be able to talk her down from doing anything crazy. 

She put her phone away, unsure as to whether he would have the same number as he did four years ago, or if he would even answer if she tried to call him. So she stared at the sea instead, trying to figure out what she was going to do. 

She booked a train ticket home for that afternoon. It wiped her out of money until she got paid two weeks later but she couldn’t stand being in town any longer. She needed to leave. 

To go home.

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

15 Questions

Thanks for the tag Moya!

1. Are you named for anyone?

Technically yes. My middle name is a biblical one, and also my…. Aunt?? Cousin? I’ve met her but I think she’s my dad’s first cousin and I don’t know what that means I am to her.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Like… what type of cry? Sobbed? End of December. Cried? About a week ago. From laughter? Sunday night. My brother was building a clearance gingerbread house and the icing said “made in a nut free facility” and my brother leaned over to me and said “so no men there?” And I lost it. Later he just fucking leaned over and started to hands free eat the house and I lost it again. Just little tears? Last night. I saw an instagram reel and I got misty eyed. I don’t remember what it was about.

3. Do you have kids?

Haha no. I’m not strictly opposed? But I’m not fucking doing that by myself and relationships are real low priority to me.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I used to more. Not so much anymore?

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Mostly what they’re doing. And then if they seem happy or not.

6. What’s your eye color?

Blue

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Honestly neither but I guess happy endings. But not inspiring movies. I fucking hate inspiring movies I spent enough time in church having my emotions manipulated I’m not fucking paying to sit and do it again. Miss me with that shit.

8. Any special talents?

Talent? Uh, I have super flexible shoulders? I guess I would consider my natural aptitude to figure shit out as a talent? Other things I would consider as skills cause I worked for them. So like crafts and my flexibility and writing.

9. Where were you born?

Florida.

10. What are your hobbies?

You don’t have the time to have me list them. And they rotate pretty frequently. But!! I just got a drop spindle and I’m currently obsessed with it. But crafts are definitely a constant. Any craft, I’ve probably tried it once. I’m really not kidding.

11. Have any pets?

Not at the moment. I want rats someday but I’m so busy I wouldn’t be able to give them a good life 😞

12. What sports have you played?

As a child: basketball, soccer, football (like American football lol), tennis, cheerleading.

As an adults I’m pretty active but not really in organized sports. Now I’m doing mostly running, gymnastics, and pole dancing.

13. How tall are you?

5 foot….. 5??? 6???

14. Favorite subject in school?

I honestly liked most of it. I hated geometry tho. One I always wanted to do was Linguistic but alas, FL state law kept me from doing it. 😭 (not that like linguistics specifically is illegal, google excess credit hour laws)

15. Dream job?

Hahahah i don’t even know. I don’t particularly want to work. However I wish I could do animal education at a zoo. I would love that. I would love just answering questions about iguanas.

Oh. Oh wait… my like, dream unbelievable never going to happen job would be an acrobat. Fuck. When I was younger interacting with circus related material like movies or books or even color palets would make my heart hurt. Like sometimes I couldn’t interact with it because it just hurt so much. It’s just so cool and fucking magical and mesmerizing. I loved it. And even at like 15 I thought it was too late for me to ever be a part of that world.

And then when I turned 22 and had a fucking life meltdown, I was watching fucking unus anus and heard Ethan talking about gymnastics and decided to just… try something. And I quickly found out it wasn’t too late?? That I still had a chance to learn and try and experience circus arts??? Now I’ve tried acrobatics and aerial silks and contortion and pole and got on a trapeze once. And now it’s my motivation for how I take care of myself. I have to eat food and move my body and take care of myself. I have to because if I don’t I’ll never be able to try lyra/aerial hoop. I gotta keep going because I’ve got pole on Wednesday and I’m so close to the body spiral.

When I get emotionally low I remind myself I gotta keep going so I can get back to my circus arts.

(Please note I know circus haven’t always been good and nice and happy places. I get it. I know. I’m not talking about that)

Tagging! @as-a-matter-of-whump @brutal-nemesis @cowboy-anon @i-can-even-burn-salad @jordanstrophe @just-a-silly-little-whumper @milk-carton-whump @poopraven @quietly-by-myself @redstainedsocks @susiequaz12 @thoughtsonhurtandcomfort @ziptiesnfries @tearyvictim @

[fitgothgirl]

Hiii here have an update :]

Things are decent, not much going on lately. Still making it to the gym about 3 times a week for lifting, but just recently starting to try to get more cardio and steps haha. Lifting is awesome but I would also like to be losing some fat here and there too lol, can’t forget about that. I at least just want to get enough steps a day but I know cardio is good for your heart and lungs and whatever (grumble grumble) so I want to get some times of higher heart rate once or twice a week to start with.

A couple days ago I also started a bullet journal. I’ve always liked these but never thought I could do one since they always look like works of art and I’m not artistic, don’t have pretty writing, etc. I didn’t want to try it and mess it up or end up not using it because I hated my artwork. But I recently saw a tumblr post about how making bujos like that is great for people who can/like to do that, but originally bujos were made by a guy (Ryder Carroll) who wanted it to be super simple and straightforward. In his Youtube intro video his handwriting is even messy enough that I almost can’t read it at times lol. But I guess a lot of people are like me and get overwhelmed at how we normally see bujos and so we avoid them, but he actually invented the method specifically as a neurodivergent-accessible way to stay organized, apparently in particular for people with ADHD. So that made me feel way better about starting my own. I did watch some other videos of people’s minimalistic spreads which I took from that added to Carroll’s original method, like a habit tracker and a gratitude page, etc. But otherwise it’s really straightforward and all I use is just a graph notebook (I like graph paper over dots hehe), a black pen, and a ruler (not even necessary technically) and that’s it!

This is good for a lot of reasons but I especially want to use it to help me with what I think is going to be a New Year’s resolution - get out of debt! Or at least close to out of it - not sure if I could completely get out if it in just a year. My financial situation is horrendous and embarrassing. Since I started my bujo in December, this month’s financial goals included just not using my credit card anymore, and starting in 2023 I want to plan specifics for paying off my cards and saving a little. With Christmas shopping this month, I couldn’t really start with that stuff yet (even though I’m keeping the shopping minimal this year).

I’d also like to start incorporating a way to meal plan/meal prep with it, but I’ll do that down the line a bit. One thing at a time.

Otherwise things are pretty chill. Concerts petered out after October - had just one at the end of November and we have NONE scheduled for the next THREE MONTHS. This is crazy for us lol. I bet at least one will come up before then though. It’s funny though cuz if not, the last concert I went to was AFI, and the next concert I go to will also be AFI haha. The one that just happened was a regular album tour show; the one that will be in March is a special one-off concert where they will be playing an entire album through “for the first and last time” (Sing the Sorrow, since it’ll be its 20th anniversary). We have to travel down to SoCal for that one too. So unbelievable we even got tickets, I’m so stoked. It’s going to be a special night with the most diehard fans.

Anyway, December is surprisingly an almost plan-less month. Just Christmas and New Years obviously, and we’re having a late combo friendsgiving/secret Santa dinner party at the end of the month too. Enjoying the lull in things before the schedule gets packed again in spring - besides that concert in March, there are already plans coming up around then and onward. I love doing stuff and I also love staying home, so I got a good balance right now lol.

[morningsandtea]

Life has been eventful lately.

When I say eventful, I mean I’ve made so much memories that if I died today I wouldn’t mind it.

To start off, I joined Ms UN last year around november. I confessed to yuan before that happened and it didn’t end well. We began to ignore each for almost 3 months. During that month I met someone handsome, rich, and smart. He was also charming and he liked me first. It was all so new to me and unbelievable. He was a literal heartthrob. Although, since I was confused and again, I couldn’t believe it because he didn’t tell me directly, I made friends with him and introduced him to a friend of mine.

I regretted doing it and told his bestfriend about it but then it got leaked and now the friend I introduced him to hates me. I lost a friend and it devastated me but I feel like I have way more problems in life than to be saddened about something like this. I moved on but it backfired. Since I’ve always liked yuan deeply, after losing my attention to the other guy, my heart went back to racing fast for yuan. I have no idea how to end it but I suppose I don’t really have a choice since I’m a student in our current school because of him.

Aside from my teenage problems, I also have family problems that I don’t think I’d call mine. My Mom recently went to manila around the end of December to the first week of January. I spent my new year in blues. I went to church with my cousin and she was with her cousins from her mom’s side (I’m from her father’s side) and I couldn’t help but feel lonely. They were very close to each other and I understood it. Yet somehow, I couldn’t help but feel alone by their side and cried silently. I was hoping nobody would notice but my other cousin, whom I treated as my brother, saw my change of energy and asked if I was alright. I had to force myself a soft smile and say the opposite of what I was actually feeling to not spoil the new year’s mood. I wished I had a stable life, a complete family to celebrate the occasion with. Later on, I told them I wanted to eat ice cream and so we did. I’m glad I cheered up in the end because I don’t want to greet new year with a frown. I slept well that night and proceeded to live my life as though I hadn’t been told about a major secret about my family by my mom.

My 2 weeks of stay in my mom’s friends’ place was heavenly. I slept on a comfortable bed and it was always friggin cold but I loved how cozy everything was. I could eat whenever I wanted, they always had desserts, their water dispenser had automatic cold and hot water. I only needed to wash the dishes, I could sleep any time I want, shower in a clean bathroom. They had so much mirrors I’ve gotten sick of my face, and their food always tastes good. I could also wake up whenever I wanted and do whatever I want. I had work that time and could buy whatever I wanted. I had a taste of freedom and it was the best.

School resumed two days after new year and I was satisfied. Even though It was still stressful as ever, I had fun. Everyday, I did my best. Our schedule was shortened because of an upcoming event which was our school’s foundation week. I became a head of an event that I was supposed to be joining but declined. I regretted it again because I would’ve had a chance to participate with yuan. Everyday was busy and I rarely had enough time for myself. Yuan and I became close again and the teachers knew I had feelings for him. It wasn’t really a big deal for me because he already knew. I experienced jailbooth for the first time, I made new friends, and I won 4th place in a dramatic dialogue competition with our team’s assistant head.

I had a privilege to witness the candidates practices because the event’s moderator knew me and trained me before. I trained our candidates in terms of q&a and made friends with them too. Oddly, I missed joining pageantry and practicing with the other candidates. On the day of the event, everything went smoothly and we all had fun. Our candidates won plenty of awards and one of them won 2nd place. Yuan won 3rd place, the other guy whom was a heartthrob won 1st place, and my partner back in UN won as Mr.Pasdi. Our team won as the overall champion for the foundation week. I wasn’t able to eat any meal for the whole day and we ate at a takoyaki place at 9 pm because we were starving and exhausted. I went home and slept peacefully after that day.

I gave the playlist I made for yuan to him. He liked the playlist and I feel relieved because of it. Even though he likes someone else, or even if a lot of people know him now, I will continue on cheering him on from the sides and be a friend to him.

As for xy? Well I’m doing well. I feel my kidney hurting more in each passing day and I’m guessing I won’t last long in this world. Oh and we also have a transferee and he’s my friend too. My Mom bought a Netflix account so I suppose I will be watching something now. I made a new playlist and I love it very much. It’s so chill and nice. I might even fall asleep listening to it. Yuan said he also fell asleep while listening to the playlist I made for him. Gosh It’s already 2023 and I still like that guy. I should really stop soon but I want to enjoy it while it lasts.

I’m pretty sure I forgot another detail about my life but I’ll write it when I remember and When I’m not feeling lazy. for now, this is all that’s happened in my life. I’ll go listen to the songs now and sleep or watch maybe. Depends. Ah how do I end this?

To more best days!

-xy

[virtuoshosh]

It had been so many years that Shosh had been booked (despite her complaining over it) on December 24th doing back-to-back Christmas concerts that this year, free of Adrian’s demands on her time, she almost didn’t know what to do with herself. An entire birthday to spend exactly as she pleased? It was like a dream.

Made even more unbelievably dreamy by the fact that she’d been spoiled rotten by one Verlie Redlocke for the entirety of it. After an afternoon of shopping in all the designer boutiques where Shosh had only ever dared to gaze in the windows, Verlie had bought out a private box at the Royal Opera House to see The Nutcracker. Then they’d gone for a late supper at a restaurant that wasn’t even open to the public yet, where apparently Verlie knew the chef and owner; the vampire had insisted on sitting and watching Shosh eat a ridiculously lavish, privately-prepared multi-course meal for one, sipping wine and muttering things across the table that made Shosh’s whole body flush.

But when they’d finally gathered their coats to at last end their evening in the nearest available bedroom, Shosh had gotten a call from Sascha, and knew exactly where she was needed tonight. Shosh’s apology to her exquisite date was hushed right off her lips, and she was dropped back off at the Dracula Mansion with a searing kiss and a promise to pick up where they’d left off some other time.

Shosh walked through the lifeless grounds, frost glistening over the decay like black diamonds in the moonlight. Just one year ago, she’d been on the other side of that wrought-iron gate, marveling over this wondrous place as an outsider looking in. A girl who'd demanded so much and knew so little, who'd yearned to slice her tender flesh on every dark, sharp-edged beautiful thing. 

She found Cass precisely where she’d expected him to be. Shosh smiled warmly at her best friend, who one year ago had brought her here, had begrudgingly opened up his world to her, and it had changed her life.

“Thank you,” she breathed, her heart swelling, her dark eyes shining with more gratitude than was really warranted by his somewhat snotty muttering of happy birthday. Shosh walked closer, noting the box that Cass was failing to conceal with his body. She gave him a knowing smile and said, “Sascha called me. I hope that’s alright, that I’m here…can I help?” 

She held out her arms for the box, and after noting some hesitation, Shosh added with earnest, “…I’m not here to be shitty, I promise.” Shoshana Edelman was no stranger to death. At ten years old, she’d sat atop her suitcase and watched a winged creature as black as the night fly overhead; she’d grown comfortable with omens of death in the world before she even knew what they were.

So death didn't unnerve her; it was her constant, her longest friend. She was sure as hell always dressed for a funeral.

Carefully, Cass placed the box of whatever it was that Sascha had retrieved from the Vampire High Council of Pomonia’s remains—all that was left in this world of Cass’ longtime donor and abuser. And with equal care, without so much as a disdainful grimace, Shosh moved to the hole Cass had dug up in front of the tree, and gently lowered the box into it with something like reverence. Shosh may have hated Pomonia for what she’d done to her best friend, she may have been glad the woman was gone, but Shoshana could still show respect for the dead. It was second-nature, to Shosh, at this point.

She looked back at Cass, nodding for him to come closer, and when he’d reached her side Shosh didn’t hesitate to reach out and grab his hand, which felt icy even through the satin fabric of her long black opera gloves. She laced their fingers together and squeezed hard before tucking her head onto his shoulder. “Do you want to say something?”

When Cass eventually looked up at his elder, shame riddled his features, as if the vampire could see right through him. He expected to be called out for his lie, expecting that either Shosh or Henry would have spilled his deepest secrets at some point. Instead, Cass folded his arms, letting his gaze drop back down again until they finally took his glass.

Cass swallowed, picking up his jacket and shrugging it on, offering the other a wry smile that broke the tension. “I trust you with the clothes,” He quirked a brow, “If you hurt Shosh… Well. I can’t promise any throat ripping won’t occur.” He gave a playful grin, then headed for the door.

He turned for Sascha when the other called him, expecting some sort of farewell or instructions for when to return for another fitting. The information he was given instead… Wrecked him. They held onto something. It sliced down his stomach, and Cass stood, feeling every inch of his guts spill out into his hands. He could feel his throat sliding down into his belly.

He wrapped his arms around his waist, gripping the edges of his jacket as he paled. Cass nodded stiffly, and even through his very visible pain, he croaked, “… Please.”

—

Truthfully, Cass had not expected anything. He did his best to erase Sascha’s offer from the back of his mind as the days led towards Christmas. Normally, he would have planned a night in for Shosh’s birthday, but Verlie had whisked her away for a romantic evening somewhere, and Cass was left trying to work out how to navigate his first Christmas without his Dad.

He’d been eating a bag of powdered doughnuts in the sitting room when the box arrived, a note warning Cass of its contents affixed. Cass had sat for a while, staring at it, doughnuts forgotten, before he suddenly scooped it up, grabbing his coat and marching outside.

The entirety of the Dracula Mansion’s backyard was dead. Henry had always wanted to hire a gardener to fix it up nicely, but given he’d never be able to walk around in the sunshine to enjoy it, he hadn’t been bothered. Cass stalked through the tangle of weeds and branches until he found a blackened, ashy tree.

Keeping the box tucked under one arm, Cass removed his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the frozen ground before the tree, watching as it shovelled a nice hole. When it was large enough, Cass let his wand drop, then looked down at the box under his arm. He took it in both hands, and closed his eyes.

Even though the memories were tainted, brushed with the indelible traumas that she’d laid on him, he missed them. It’s complicated, His therapist had said, leaning forward, But that’s being human, Cass. Human relationships are complicated.

He remembered her. He remembered the woman who’d taken an interest in him, who’d nurtured his natural love and talent of music, who’d suggested he turn his play room into a music room. Who taught him to dance. Who trekked miles into snowy Scotland to ensure he’d be nourished through school. Who held him when he cried. He could remember her heartbeat, flush against his ear, steady and rhythmic…

Cass could almost hear it then and there, echoing in his ears. Wait- no, he could definitely hear a heartbeat. Cass frowned, turning to try and place the scent of the human who approached. When he saw her, Cass turned again, curling over the box slightly, as if trying to hide what he was doing. He reached up, quickly trying to dash away any snotty tears, before clearing his throat and offering the best smile he could manage. “Happy Birthday, Shosh.”

[charlie-rulerofhell]

An interview with Måneskin: “It's not about out bodies, it's about our music”

Heyo, I'm back with another translation. This time the article is from the German Rolling Stone website who met with Måneskin after their TikTok performance at the Schwuz, Berlin, and posted the interview yesterday. Again there were some interesting questions asked (and the pictures they added to the article are quite nice, though severely lacking some Ethan content, but check it out!).

Again, I hope that no one has already gone through the effort and translated it or is currently working on a translation. Also this is an official invitation, if you stumble across any articles or video interviews in German that you would like to have translated just message me and I'll get to it! (or if you just wanna chat about Måneskin, my inbox is always open :))

Have a great day everyone!

Full article under the cut.

-----------------------------

An interview with Måneskin: “It's not about out bodies, it's about our music”

Jose-Luis Amsler

July 6, 2021

Måneskin are just what this generation has been missing. Passionate, corny, and full-on honest. In an interview with Rolling Stones, the ESC winners explain to us why they would never work in a normal job and why the hype for their appearance is sometimes going too far.

Damiano, Victoria, Thomas and Ethan are entering the nearly deserted dance hall, before they wait on stage in a red-blue spotlight. They are wearing glittering fish net tops, black tape across their nipples, leather pants, heels and make up. The camera men who are filming in portrait format (9:16) suitable for TikTok are whirling up the haze of the fog machine.

Måneskin are [in] Berlin to give a TikTok concert. A TikTok livestream of this scale has not been done often – tension is in the air. The four Italians don't know at this point that due to the stream the few people present are not allowed to clap or cheer. In complete silence and with slight uncertainty the four are crossing Neukölln's club Schwuz. A few puzzled glances are exchanged. Finally,  Måneskin are striking the first chord.

Then the rich sound of Ethan's bass drum is tearing through the silence. It's almost as if someone has flicked a switch somewhere. There it is, the rock star presence that is hovering over everything they do, with an ounce of arrogance (in the best sense of the word). Singer Damiano is dancing lasciviously on his heels, and during an especially ecstatic solo guitarist Thomas is throwing himself down on the floor in a way it can only be done by a passionate 20-year-old musician who had never had to worry about the looming doom of an artificial knee joint [for 'passionate' the interview is using the term 'besessen' which means 'possessed', and although I think it's rather supposed to describe the way Thomas is 'possessed / obsessed' with the music, thus passionate for the music, you never know if they didn't mean to say that the way he dances looks 'possessed' … I mean, they might be on to something here ;)]. Around half an hour and about 120 decibel later, Damiano says their goodbyes with an almost shy-sounding “Okay, bye.” After the performance, we do our interview in the Schwuz.

Rolling Stone: It was a little bit weird, right, when you went on stage today?

Damiano: Yeah, that was really strange (laughs). They only told us after the performance that the audience was instructed to stay silent for the stream.

Vic: But at least they weren't silent because we were shit (all laughing). We are slowly getting used to playing without a live audience. I mean we are doing this now for more than a year.

RS: What do you think about these new kinds of concerts such as the TikTok livestream today?

Damiano: Well, at the moment it is the only option to perform anyway, so it's alright. But of course you cannot compare this to a proper concert.

Thomas: But it's pretty cool that so many people can experience our concert live.

Vic: Also we're gonna start touring again soon. Right now we are arranging some festival and gigs. In December we will be touring Italy and afterwards we are planning to go on tour through Europe. But we don't have anything fixed yet, there is just a lot going on at the moment.

“A lot going on”. Quite an understatement considering the recent journey Måneskin has made through the past weeks after their ESC win. Their singles “Beggin'” and “I Wanna Be Your Slave” went through the roof (also thanks to Social Media) and are currently dominating the international charts – lately they were also number one in Germany. There is barely a radio station that isn't playing the band on heavy rotation [would love to know what stations they listen to, have never heard Måneskin played in German radio tbh :( ], and everyone opening Instagram or TikTok these days is flooded by Måneskin content. Every second a new fanpage with the name of 'maneskin_obsession' or 'damianos_slut' is springing up like a (virtual) mushroom. It sounds like a cliche, but Damiano, Vic, Thomas and Ethan became international stars over night.

“Of course it's nice to get compliments. But sometimes they definitely cross a line.” – Damiano David

RS: How has your life as a band changed since your win at the ESC in Rotterdam?

Vic: I think we don't even notice a lot of what's happening. Right after the ESC we went to a studio in the countryside where we made music the whole day long. So at first we didn't realise that so many things were happening all around us – and that we had so many new fans. We're just now beginning to learn what's going on. We were at Sony yesterday, there were so many fans waiting for us. That was crazy.

RS: A large part of the attention you are getting now is about your outer appearance, your style, your attractiveness. Is that getting a little too much sometimes?

Damiano: Of course it's nice to get compliments (laughs). But sometimes they definitely cross a line. Especially when we just talk about our music or about a social or political topic that we care about. In those moments it's just completely inappropriate to reduce us to our appearance. Sure – when I'm posting a half-naked picture of myself on Instagram I know that I will get these kind of comments. And then it's totally fine, I mean in the end I'm posting the picture to show myself. But sometimes it's not the right place for it.

RS: And also you should be allowed to wear what you want without being sexualised, right?

Vic: Yes, absolutely. We are wearing these outfits because we feel good in them, not to put the focus on our bodies. And in general it shouldn't always only be about how you dress. We are musicians – so first and foremost it should be about our music. But I think it will still be a long way until we will reach that point.

“That the boys are wearing make up does not tell you what gender they are attracted to. Those things should never be equated with each other.” – Victoria De Angelis

RS: But still you are sending a message with your style against stereotypical gender roles. I guess it's also not only coincidence that we are in the Schwuz today, which is normally a party location and safe space for the LGBTQ community.

Vic: Yes, that is all part of the positive message that we try to send. We want to give our audience the feeling that they are free. Free to wear whatever they want to wear, be how they want to be and love whom they want to love. It's unbelievable that there is still so much intolerance in our times. That has always been really important to us so we try to talk about these topics. We also believe that the narrow-mindedness of society is an educational problem. When you grow up with people all around you telling you how you should be, you will never feel completely free. The more people are talking about it, the sooner things will change.

RS: Some artists who are advocating for these topics are accused of 'queerbaiting', that they are only pretending to be a certain way to gain more support from the queer community. Have you also been faced with those allegations?

Vic: Yes, a few times. But of course we never pretended to be anything. Some people accuse of us queerbaiting because we look and act the way we do. But that's flawed thinking. We don't believe that clothes are connected to a person's sexuality. That the boys are wearing make up does not tell you what gender they are attracted to. Those two things should never be equated with each other.

RS: This courage for free self expression that you are conveying is mainly lived by our (young) generation through Instagram and the like. What is your relationship to social media?

Damiano: For me it was almost scary at first. The more we grew, the more people were trying to twist all of my words. But over time you start to understand that with more fame you also get more criticism. The happier you look the more hate you will get. It's not only like that for celebrities. If you are brave enough to show the things that make you happy there will always be people that support you, but they are also those that envy you. Of course, this should never lead anyone to not express themselves openly but that's easier said than done.

Vic: We are also trying not to spend too much time on social media. In the end we just try to be honest with our fans and to avoid negativity.

[caption under the picture of Damiano: 'Is already being compared to icons such as David Bowie']

It's actually surprising how little power a win at the ESC holds in most cases. Almost 200 million people are watching this shining spectacle every year – and still, a few months afterwards it is hard to remember who those people were that got covered in confetti during the award ceremony. It's the well-known curse of a casting show that rests on the winning bands. When just next year a new sensation will come to marvel at, how much impact does a win have then? There are exceptions of course, like Lena who is until this day, 10 years after her win in Oslo, a part of the more famous music scene of German pop music. With their charisma, their unusual sound at least for our modern standards, and their contemporary message Måneskin could become such an exception, too.

It's likely also helpful that the band already had a standing in the Italian music scene prior to their ESC participation. Their first album 'Il ballo della vita' already achieved platinum in 2018, three years prior to Sanremo and the ESC. And then there is also the long way that led the four schoolmates to this point that helped them gain the necessary persistence. Because contrary to what some people might want to believe Måneskin are not a phenomenon that has just been deliberately bred to be this way by the entertainment industry for Eurovision.

“I have worked [in a 'normal' job] for a whole month in my entire life – it didn't really end well.” – Damiano David

RS: You were all raised in Rome, the capital of the catholic church. What was it like to start as a young progressive band in such a conservative environment?

Damiano: In the beginning, when we started as buskers, no one gave a damn about us anyways (all laughing). But of course … Once we got a bit bigger there were a few people who had a problem with us. For example when we went to Sanremo, there were quite many people who thought that the way we looked and acted we shouldn't be allowed to represent Italy. They didn't even want to listen to our music first.

Vic: Especially when it comes to appearance and sexuality, Italy is a little more backward than other countries. The church probably also has an influence there. They are often quite conservative of course, so many people grew up with such a [conservative] mindset.

RS: You once said that the song 'In Nome Del Padre' is an answer to exactly those people. What does the song mean to you?

Damiano: Back in the beginning [of our career] we had to deal with a lot of problems. They didn't want to let us play in clubs because we would take too much space as a band or because they didn't like our (fashion) style or because they didn't want to pay us. Italy isn't a good place for bands. Our musical style was also criticised a lot. Many people were telling us: Don't do that [rock music], you won't get popular with that in Italy, you will never achieve anything with it. Of course those comments were hurtful but they were also a good reason for us to continue with what we did. And we turned our sadness into anger. With that song we wanted to tell those people from back then: Fuck off and look at us, we did it!

RS: Did you ever consider working in a nine-to-five job and live a 'normal' life?

Damiano: Nah, not really. For one month in my life I worked [in a 'normal' job] – it didn't end well (all laughing).

Vic: We all made music since we were kids. It's a huge part of us, that we couldn't just ignore. And the most important thing is that you do something that makes you happy. At least that's what we believe. So we started from a young age to put all our time and energy into music.

Thomas: Yeah, exactly. Ever since we were in school together we always made music. That has always been our main focus and it is until today. We play and play and play because it is the only thing that …  

Ethan: … we live for.

Damiano: Music has also something very therapeutic for us. Even when we are in a bad mood or fight with each other – yeah, that happens, too – then all of that is gone the moment we enter the stage. Maybe that's the beautiful thing about music – that it allows you to forget everything else. You're just standing on stage, having fun with your friends.

From most bands you wouldn't buy such a corny love letter to music. Mostly it just sounds like an empty phrase, a well-practiced quotable line. But when there is something that defines Måneskin and that becomes more and more evident during our conversation it's their uncompromising honesty. The four of them are definitely not lacking a sense of humour but they take their music very seriously. Which should not be taken for granted in a generation that has mainly produced sarcastic cloud rappers and has made cynical twitter comedy a national sport. And maybe Måneskin are exactly what this generation was lacking all along.

Still, the four musicians, all in the age of 20 to 22, are also prone to the constant need for self-expression, that has become an intrinsic part of today's life. This does not only reflect in the outfits of the band (always 'on fleek') and their Instagram profiles, but also in their lyrics. Their latest record 'Teatra D'Ira – Vol. 1' shows a clear theme: The album is an ode to individuality, accentuated by fast and hard sounds.

Sometimes this message fitting for a Disney movie [really? guess I have been watching the wrong Disney movies my whole life …] is wrapped in a contrasting loud and forceful packaging, but never so much that it becomes inauthentic or self-caricaturing [note: I'm honestly not entirely sure what they wanted to say with this sentence since it uses a lot of rhetorical devices that could be interpreted in different ways, but I'd say this sounds the most plausible]. And in the end, the thing that makes Måneskin so interesting is their unification of the spirit of this time – between TikTok hedonism and an omnipresent political statement – with the music of past generations.

“When you are twenty, you start to think about what the future will hold.” – Damiano David

RS: Your musical style is often described as classical 70s rock, but in fact there are many different influences in your music. Sometimes you groove almost into funk, sometimes it's more rapping than singing. How did this mixture come to be?

Thomas: It's just that we all have our own individual influences and then we meet somewhere in the middle. And we always try to stay open for experiments.

Ethan: Yes, we are very experimental in our song writing process.

Vic: We also don't want to limit ourselves to what is regarded as typical rock music. If rap fits better at some point then we just add that in. It just happens naturally without us thinking too much about it.

RS: So why was it still rock music in the end?

Vic: Because it's the style that we feel most represented by. But actually we just play the music that we enjoy playing. That's really important to us so that we can show something real on stage. We don't want to pretend to be something that we aren't or mock those people that really enjoy our music. You should always be proud of what you're doing and never fake anything just to sell more records.

RS: Is there something like an Italian rock music scene?

Vic: There are quite a lot of bands – but the most of them are much older than us or they are more going in the direction Indie rock. There isn't really a young rock scene, which we think is a pity. But ever since we got more famous people are telling us that they started listening to rock music because of us or that they bought their first guitar and such. That's incredibly nice!

RS: So you're saying that you also want to show this style of music to a younger generation. And you capture this contrast quite well in the song 'Vent'anni', which is a typical rock ballad but lyrically portrays the thoughts of today's youth. Where did the motivation come from to write that song?

Damiano: With the song I wanted to show that I'm just a normal guy, a really typical 20-year-old. I experience the same things that other people in my age are experiencing, I'm just doing another job than them. Also I wanted to describe this age as a whole because I think it's a really special age. At 20 you start to think about what the future will hold. I think it's one of the most important stages of your life. Since we (the four of us) are all in the same age, I then started to mix our experiences together. In the end the song shows what it means to us to be 20. There is a lot of good things – you are quite carefree and are looking at life enthusiastically. But on the other hand you're too young to do certain things and too old to do others. Some people are treating you like a full-grown adult, but …

Vic: … not entirely.

Damiano: Exactly. It can get pretty frustrating at times. We wanted to show our audience: Hey, we're also just 20 years old, and we're going through the same things as you. We understand you.

RS: Except that you are the ones who are becoming a world-wide phenomenon right now. How do you want to maintain this honesty?

Damiano: I think that we could just reach this point because we have always been authentic – for better or for worse. Also we are just trying to have fun with what we're doing together. That's something special that we don't want to lose. In the end we're just four friends who started to live their dream. It's actually pretty simple. Of course – we go on stage, we get a lot of attention, we give interviews – but when we come back home we're just four friends.

[cedricslover]

Future

Pairings: Sirius x Remus & George Weasley x Fem! Reader

Warnings: vomiting 

A/N: this is a sequel of the this oneshot. Requested by @georgeweasleydumbhoe. I didn’t really proofread this so if there are any grammatical errors I’m sorry everyone.

Word Count: 2.2k

“Hello” you kissed George on the cheek and you sat beside him, it must have been two years and a half since you two saw Hogwarts. You handed him a bar of chocolate that he just accepted, he was used to this, you were just like your father, chocolate was your life. 

You two just sat in the fountain in silence, you were at the Clocktower Courtyard, it was just a spur of the moment decision for you to visit Hogwarts. As you bit your chocolate you felt your left hand being slowly picked up by George, and when you felt a cold thing enveloping your ring finger your gaze went there. You gasped when you saw a ring was placed on your finger. 

“Do you think you should ask first? That’s how proposing works?” you laughed at George while he just shrugged. “I don’t like that. Besides, you’re technically the one who asked me to marry you” he offered his hand and you two stood up. 

“I don’t think so” your eyebrows furrowed trying to remember what he was pertaining to, he grabs your waist that made you bump into him. “I think you forgot when I officially met your parents you asked me if we would be like them, therefore you wanted me to marry you sweetheart” he grinned at your face that went from confused to ‘oh I suddenly remembered’

“Yeah, I was just seventeen that time” you rolled your eyes at him ‘I told you so’ face. “But you loved me so much that you thought of us marrying each other” he cups your face, you closed your eyes waiting for a kiss but seconds after, there was nothing. 

“I’m Fred” he said that made you open your eyes, lines forming on your forehead, he wants to play this game huh?

“Oh yeah totally forgot. Just please don’t tell George hmm?” you looked concerned, trying to be in character even after his face went pale. 

“Fred?” You snapped your fingers, “You won’t tell George about us, right?” Now, you gave him a soft smile while his lips twitched and his face was tight. Maybe he was thinking of how to confront Fred, or how to kill him, he was starting to plot whatever he wanted to do with his twin brother.

“No, I'm just joking. I love you” you gave him a lopsided grin and removed his arms that wrapped your waist, you ran as fast as you could to get away from Hogwarts ground so you could disapparate. 

You looked back and George seemed to be catching up and was also running, trying to stop you. Your hair blew because of the wind and your laugh was the only thing you could hear. 

“Oi!” George was almost catching up, but luckily you arrived at your destination. You turned to him and saw he was a few feet away from you, “Bye-bye Georgie! See you when I see you” you waved, blew a kiss, and winked before disapparating, leaving his panting face behind. 

“Y/N!” you jumped as soon as you apparate in front of your house at Grimmauld Place, you looked back and saw Sirius with his eyes wide open, his wand was out that made you look around. 

“I thought you were someone!” he added when he finally breathed fine. You just laughed and was about to give him a hug when someone apparated in front of the both of you. Sirius immediately pulled you to his back and he drew his wand again. 

“Where do you think you’re going, young man?” Sirius shouted at George who was about to knock on the door of your house, he wasn’t aware that you and Sirius were just behind him. George instantly turned around and mischievously smiled when he saw Sirius. 

“How are you pops” he hugs Sirius while you look at him like he just did something unbelievable. “What the fuck?” you mouthed to him as he was embracing your father. His smile was still there and he showed his left hand, gesturing the ring on your finger. “Goodie points” he mouthed back to you. 

“I’m doing good son, how ‘bout you?” Sirius talked with his amused voice after they broke their hug. “Been a long time since I saw you” he added and opened the door. George winked at you before he followed Sirius, leaving you there dumbfounded. 

‘Yeah, I just got engaged? Me?’ 

You shake your head and entered the house too. 

“Hey dad” you saw your other dad, Remus, sitting on the couch. “Hello princess. How was your day?” he puts down the book that he was reading, ‘Good. Just got engaged to the love of my life, nothing interesting’ the voice in the back of your head talked. “Just the usual. Well, we did visit Hogwarts earlier.” you kissed his cheek and sat beside him. 

“Are you tired?” he asks as you leaned your head to his shoulder and closed your eyes. “Yeah” you nodded. You two just sat there, in peace, well not really as you two heard the loud laughs of Sirius and George. They weren’t in the living room and you bet they were at the kitchen, drinking that fine wine Sirius has. 

You felt Remus’ hand shift as he opens his book again. Maybe it was for 10 minutes, you just relaxed on the shoulder of your father, not until he begins to notice. 

“Princess?” he softly called you, seeing if you were asleep or not. You hummed as a response. Now feeling a little sleepy. “Is that an engagement ring I see?” he muttered that made your eyes shot open, the sleepiness you felt a second ago? Gone. The relaxation you felt earlier? Gone. 

Your breath hitched and you sat straight. “Uhm” your eyes cannot even focus in a certain direction. 

Your dad chuckled when he realized that you were nervous. “You two have been dating for what now? Four years? It’s not a shock for him to ask for your hand in marriage. Although I would be really sad because you will eventually leave us” he smiles at you, that smile that states that he is happy for you and he wants you to know that you would always be their little girl, no matter how old you are. 

“Dad…” you pouted and hugged him, “Congratulations daughter” he whispered. 

While you had that heartfelt conversation with your other dad, little did you know George was wooing your other dad, Sirius. And well after a little while of “You better take care of her” “Are you financially stable?” “Do you love her unconditionally” “I’m going to kill you myself if she cries because of you, remember that time I almost did when you two had a huge argument?” and many more. He eventually said congratulations and gave George permission to marry you. 

--------------

“Merlin” you breathed in and out, you were about to walk the aisle, a garden wedding, just like how you dreamt. It was perfect. But you can’t understand why were you nervous, it’s not like George is going to run away because he realized you were the wrong woman she wanted to spend a lifetime. 

“Angel, you okay?” Sirius taps your arm that was linked to him. “Yeah, just a lil bit nervous” you inhaled deeply before you smiled nervously at your father. 

“Don’t we all experience wedding jitters” he said and slightly laugh as he reminisced his wedding day. 

“Sirius, you’re not helping” Remus butted in, his arm was also linked to your other arm. You were at their middle, “Yeah dad, you’re really not” you both looked at him. He just shrugged and acted to zip his mouth. 

“It’s going to be fine Y/N.” Remus assures you one last time before your cue to walk. 

And there you felt blissful, everything was perfect. As you saw your future husband, standing beside his twin brother, both of them teary-eyed that made you almost laughed, you saw the end and another beginning. An end for individuality and the begging of a life together with him, the guy that made you laugh even at the darkest days, the guy that stayed with you, loved you, took care of you. The guy you are going to spend your forever with. 

 ------------------

“Shit” you groaned before you threw up again, this was the second day that instead of having a peaceful morning, you were greeted by your own vomit and the toilet. 

“We should take you to the hospital” George declared as he was woken up by your swearing and throwing up, you glanced at him, he was at the doorstep of the bathroom, just wearing a pajama, nothing on his upper body, and if you were just feeling well you might have drooled and ask him for a little breakfast in bed and he is the breakfast. 

You didn’t want to go to the hospital, but you knew this isn’t a normal thing, and you’re afraid that you might be sick, but you shouldn’t just ignore it. 

“Yeah, I’ll just get ready” you replied and washed your face, “You’re fine, it just might be some little nausea” George’s voice went soft as he walked up to you and hugged you from the back. 

“But what if it’s not? You know I’ve been feeling sick the whole week and-” you failed to finish what you were saying when you felt another round of vomiting. 

“What the bloody hell was that smell? Did you bought a new perfume?” you flushed your vomit and headed to the sink again where George was leaning to. 

“What? Move” you raised an eyebrow to his stupid face who was now smiling, he moves a little to give you space. “Go away George, you smell bad” you told him as you were brushing your teeth. 

“Love, what day it is?” he asks you once you finished brushing your teeth. “I don’t know, check the calendar” you said and went out of the bathroom while he followed you. 

“It’s 25” he told you as you were choosing what you would wear. “Okay” you replied and shuffled the jumpers. “Love, it’s 25” he repeated it, now he was looking at you, “And? What about 25? I don’t remember the month being December” you turned to him and now your hand was on your hip. 

“You’re late” he says it like it was something you should know-well it really should be. Your eyes went wide as you slowly registered, you were so busy that you forgot your own period. 

You were about to ask him that what is the problem if you’re late when you realized-again, that you have morning sickness, you were becoming moodier, you pee more than usual, your breast feeling swollen, and you hated George’s smell, which you loved, always. 

Without even thinking twice you got the pregnancy test and ran to the bathroom and locked it. 

“That’s not fair!” George calls you out but that didn’t remove the nervousness you are feeling. You might become a mother, you will experience what your parents had gone through, you knew this was going to happen eventually, you were ready, you both were, but you didn’t expect it to be today. 

“Honey,” you called George who was lying on the bed, waiting for you. You stayed there for almost 30 minutes, you didn’t know why but you just had to think before you took the test. 

“I’m pregnant” you uttered, you still can’t believe it. It was just like yesterday when you met at Diagon Alley, it was just like a second ago when he asked you out, and now, you’re pregnant, with his child. 

He jumped out of bed smiling widely and hugged you, he picked you up and started spinning around. 

“YES! I’M GOING TO BE A FATHER!” he repeatedly said, he finally puts you down and started punching the air. 

“And about what you said earlier? It shouldn’t be “I’m pregnant” love” he cups your face and pressed his lips onto yours, the kiss went long that it made your arms wrap around his neck and his hands linger on your back and waist. 

“We’re pregnant. You’re not alone, we’re both in this. Together” he smiled and kissed your forehead. “We’re both going to take care of them” he caressed your belly. 

“I love you” you look at his eyes, those brown captivating eyes that you could stare at for centuries. “I love you too” he tucked few strands of hair behind your ears. As he does that, you saw a glimpse of George, the younger George, maybe it was your hallucination, but you suddenly saw yourself, with him, back at Hogwarts. The two of you, sharing your first kiss. 

“You alright?” the tall Gryffindor ginger asked you after he pulled his face away from yours. “Never better” you replied and grabbed his face, now you were the one initiating the kiss. Because you know, this man would be the one you will spend your life with, and you just didn’t know, you saw. 

“Oh, I never told you huh?” You asked George as you two walked the dark hallways, hand in hand. “Told me what?” he asks, you didn’t bother to look at him, it would be useless, the only one that assured you that he was there was his hand, his body, close to you. 

“I can see the future” you admitted, now having a sly smile. “Really? And what did you saw for OUR future?” his voice sounded interested and teasing. “It’s a secret” you replied and a chuckle left your mouth. “But I promise you. It’s a good one” he bit your lower lip, remembering what you just foresaw. This man is your future. 

[glennjaminhow]

“You’re only getting away with pampering me because I don’t have enough voice left to tell you to go away.”

Christmas Eve 2009 Philadelphia, PA 7:30 PM

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the apartment, not a creature was stirring, not even a Dennis.

Because Dennis is curled like a cat on the sofa, soft green blanket pulled up to his chin. He’s half-asleep, listening to the crackle of the portable fireplace and watching the snowflakes fall, encasing Philly in a beautiful white glow.

He moved the couch earlier to face their fire escape and give Dennis a better view of the world outside, the world he’s been cooped away from for the past two weeks while he recovers from double ear infections that turned into laryngitis a few days ago. Mac isn’t sure how it’s humanly possible for one dude’s immune system to be so unbelievably shitty. But, given how little Dennis eats and how generally weak his pussy ass is, his germs have gotta be like ten thousand times more germy than the normal person’s germs.

Mac doesn’t get sick because he never gets sick. He’s got the body of an ox. A strong, buff ox.

Anyway, Den’s been going crazy around here, bored out of his goddamn mind. They’ve watched all their DVDs four times each. They’ve marathoned Lord of the Rings and Indiana Jones and the Alien and Predator series twice, all with the captions on because Dennis still can’t hear for shit. Seeing him with cotton balls stuffed in his ears has been real entertaining, but first the dude can’t hear and then he can’t talk. He’s congested and cranky and not even a patented back massage from yours truly can help. Fuck, Mac even tried giving him a handy, but Dennis just scowled and pushed Mac away. Same goes with kissing or dry humping or nibbling at his neck like Dennis likes.

Which Mac guesses he understands. Dennis isn’t feeling good, so hand jobs and stuff can’t feel good either, right?

So that’s why Mac’s been waiting on him hand and foot, serving him bowl after bowl of steaming chicken noodle soup and fluffing the pillows behind his head. He’s been keeping the apartment blazingly hot, to the point where it’s 80-something degrees in here, and he’s taken up just wearing boxers and sleeveless tees in December. He makes sure Dennis takes regular baths to wash the toxins off his skin, all while shampooing and conditioning his hair because Dennis sure as shit isn’t going to do it by himself while he’s feeling like this.

“You’re only getting away with pampering me because I don’t have enough voice left to tell you to go away,” Dennis wrote in his notebook a couple days ago after his third fever-induced bath that day, showing it to Mac; Mac just rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through Dennis’ hair instead. Eventually, Dennis settled in for the afternoon, falling asleep with his face buried in the crook of Mac’s neck and snoring so painfully loud that Mac nearly smacked him but didn’t have the heart to.

The last two weeks have been a pain in the ass, but not because of Dennis, not really. Sure, the guy’s whiny and irritable, but given how fucking sick he’s been, Mac is honestly surprised he hasn’t been 8,000 times more of a dick. He guesses it’s because at first he couldn’t hear himself enough to insult Mac, and now he can’t verbalize it.

But the shittiest thing about this experience is that it’s Christmas, and Dennis is sick, and Dennis hates Christmas enough as it is. Mac went all out with decorating this year, but that’s only because he’s been cooped up too, seeing as the gang doesn’t exactly function the best without them around. Who knows what the hell they’ve been doing since Mac and Dennis holed themselves up in their apartment, but he doesn’t care. He’s been trying to make the holidays special. He gracefully put up 7 mistletoes, hanging them in places he knows he’ll be able to kiss Dennis whenever he wants. There’s a Christmas tree – fake, but still – and lights and that garland shit that tracked little pieces of paper shit everywhere.

It’s Christmas Eve, and Mac figures it’s time to put his plan in motion.

He finishes plating the pancakes and eggs. He puts a couple dots of maple syrup in the middle of Dennis’ pancakes, knowing he’ll throw an absolute bitch fit if there’s too much; Dennis won’t even touch pancakes with too much maple syrup. Mac drowns his in syrup because it’s so fucking good, but Dennis is like a different species, and Mac wants to make tonight special for him. He makes Dennis’ coffee just the way he always does – a ton of French vanilla creamer and a pinch of sugar. Mac takes his black because he isn’t a pussy.

Mac carries Dennis’ food and coffee over to their currently misplaced couch. He sets the stuff on the heater and takes in the sight of Dennis, illuminated by the white of the falling snow outside. His cheeks are flushed red, and there’s a shine of sweat on his forehead. Mac will get his antibiotics after food, just like he’s been doing since they switched Dennis’ prescription because the ear infections were resisting them.

For now, Mac shakes his knee gently. “Den,” he whispers.

Dennis slowly blinks awake as Mac keeps rubbing his knee. His eyebrows scrunch, and he opens his mouth to talk, but he knows firsthand no noise will come out; his voice is shot to shit.

“I made breakfast,” Mac says softly. “I know it’s like pretty late, but you need to eat, and it’s Christmas Eve, and I thought, ‘hey, Christmas Eve calls for pancakes!’ I also made scrambled eggs too ‘cuz I know how much you like ‘em.”

Dennis eyes him skeptically.

“They’re not burnt. Promise.”

They’re a little burned.

But Dennis takes the plate anyway. Mac sets a black plastic tray over Dennis’ lap. Mac puts the coffee and napkins there while Dennis settles the plate with trembling hands. He pokes at his food while Mac situates himself on the couch beside him. Once Mac starts pretty much swallowing without chewing because he’s the next level of hungry, Dennis follows suit, daintily cutting up his pancakes and scooping eggs onto his fork.

The only noises heard are the crackling from the fireplace and the scraping of utensils. They’ve been having quiet moments like this a lot more often, and it’s refreshing from their usual lifestyle of kicking ass and planning schemes and drinking till the sun comes up. Since they started hooking up, things have been better, and Dennis seems so much happier.

Mac’s thankful for that.

Dennis slurps his coffee until there’s nothing more than a dribble left in the mug. His plate is half gone.

“Want some more?” Mac asks as he finishes the rest of his eggs. “I got like a shit load left, dude.”

Dennis shakes his head. He looks tired, like he could fall asleep any second. He shivers.

Mac moves the tray to the floor. “C’mere, Den,” he whispers.

Dennis lays his head on Mac’s shoulder immediately. Mac wraps him up in his arms and kisses the top of his sweaty hair.

“T-Thank you,” Dennis forces out, long after Mac thought he’d fallen back asleep.

Mac snaps out of his snow-watching trance; fuck, Philly really is beautiful when it snows.

“For what?” he asks. He wants to tell Dennis to save his voice and rest up, but he doesn’t.

Truth be told, he’s missed Dennis’ voice a lot. Like so much more than he thought possible.

Dennis grabs Mac’s hand and rubs his thumb over his knuckles; Mac practically vibrates out of his skin. “Taking ca-care of me… Loving me.”

His voice is a scratchy, garbled train wreck, and, honestly, Mac can barely understand him, but the words are sincere. Ever since they started banging, Dennis has been more and more open with him. Less angry. More willing to resolve their fights without resorting to low blows and scratches. When they get upset, they talk. They hold hands. They make out. They play footsies under the covers. They just… get each other.

Mac knows this can’t go on forever. Knows he’s living in sin and eventually must go back on God’s path. But these few kind words from Dennis fill his heart with happiness and the sense that maybe – just maybe – this can be sustained.

“You don’t have to thank me, Den. I love you. I want to take care of you.”

Dennis nods and snuggles in closer, tangling their fingers together and nudging the back of his head into Mac’s collarbone.

Eventually, Christmas Eve turns into Christmas Morning. They fall asleep on the couch, Dennis with his head in Mac’s pillowed lap and curled into his stomach and Mac slouched to the side against a mountain of blankets.

Snow continues to fall, and the artificial fire burns as bright as the love in Mac’s heart.

[pigstepmp3-moved]

holy hell, gamers, i finally reached one whole thousand followers! how bonkers is that! when i first made this blog in december 2018, i was just trying to start over in a new fandom. ive been active on tumblr for a looong time (since i was like 11, which is. not great, but we wont get into that). i cant remember quite why i decided to remake, but i never imagined getting a higher following than i did before, but i did! 1000 followers is bonkers, i’ve never had a thousand of anything! i seriously cant thank each and every one of you enough, whether you followed me for 911 or for mcyt or for whatever!

now, since ive reached this absolutely bonkers milestone, im feeling particularly sappy! so under the cut, i have some friends and mutuals tagged who are super great n who are always an absolute pleasure to see on my dash! <3 again, thank you all so much! (ps, if we’re mutuals and i didnt tag u in this, that doesnt mean i dont love and appreciate you!! i mostly am just picking people to tag based off how often i see them on my dash! i love all of u so much <3)

♡ 911 FRIENDS ♡

(aka the ogs, aka the fire fam)

♡ @lovelessmotel ♡ emily!! god, where do i even begin with how much i love and adore you!! i know youre one of my big sisters, but wow i am so proud of how much youve discovered yourself since we’ve met!! like wow, look at this epic, gorgeous person whos one of MY close friends! im so lucky to be friends with you! thank you so much for being my friend, i appreciate you and all the sisterly advice you’ve given me more than i can ever put into words!

♡ @eddiediaz-buckley ♡ sav!! mom!! i love u so unbelievably much!! i am so unbelievably grateful for you and everything youve done for me! all the advice youve given me and all the times youve let me vent to you have been so important to me and i cannot thank you enough for all that. im soso appreciative of you and im so glad that i have someone as amazing as you as my mom/big sister (we’ll never really figure out our fams family dynamics, will we?) (ps, whenever i go outside and have my keys with me, its always so comforting to feel the keychain you got me! its like my moms with me everywhere i go!)

♡ @liesoverthec ♡ bonbonbonbon!!! i love you so much, you wouldnt BELIEVE how much i love you!!! im so glad we met bc you are so unbelievably kind!! there is a very good reason a nickname for u is bonbon bc you are just as sweet as candy!! maybe even more so!! i love having you as one of my big sisters, you give such wonderful advice and talking to you always makes me feel a million times better!! i love you and i am soso glad i get to call you my friend!

♡ @marauder-girl ♡ sabsabsab!! i love u so much, u funky lil future lawyer!! im so proud of u and i can hardly believe ur gonna be my Lawyer big sister!!! thats so awesome!! i cant believe such a rad person is one of MY friends!! how lucky am i!! i love having you as one of my big sisters, youre so kind and funny and talented and your advice has always been so helpful to me too! thank you so much for being my friend and for always being there for me!!

♡ @nighting-gale17 ♡ cait, my love, my wifey!!! wowowow i love u so much!!! im so glad we’re friends, you are so unbelievably lovely!! youre also so unbelievably talented like??? hey queen wanna hand some of ur writing ability over to the unfortunate (like me). i’m so glad we’re friends, youre so sweet and even tho we dont talk as much as we used to, i still have SO much love for you in my heart

♡ @africaneuropean ♡ rae, my father!! i love u so much!! i know we havent talked at all in. who knows how long. but i still have so much love for u in my heart!! you are so iconic and cool and funny, im so glad i met you n became friends with you!! ur one of the coolest people i know, i hope i can be as cool and mysterious and wonderful as you one day

♡ @evaneddie ♡ DHYL!!! dhyl pickle i love u so much!!! whenever u pop into my inbox with random nice messages, every part of me lights up!!! u are so kind to me and for what!! i miss talking to u as much as we used to, you are so sweet and you are such a good friend!! i love u n im SO proud of how far youve come with gif making, i still remember when u first started n youve gotten SO amazing at gifs lately!! i love u soso much n im so glad we’re friends, youre so awesome!!!

♡ @basil-the-writer ♡ des!!! i love u so much!!! i know we’ve never rly talked all that much but im glad we have interacted in the ways that we have!! u are so sweet n so talented!! like the fact that u have the patience for those lil video edits u do?? that is so cool!! all ur edits are so cool, i cannot imagine being able to make stuff like that without dying every single time. u are so cool n i love being able to call u my friend!!

♡ GRIFF ♡

(aka griff)

♡ @yawnralphio ♡ u get ur own section bc u are my only 911 friend who isnt an og, but thats ok bc u are so swaggy!! i love being friends with u griff, u are so cool and funny and i am so glad that u still want to be friends with me despite all of the horrifying things u’ve learned about mcyt from me jdhfajkdhfa. i love u so much n i am so excited to get to know u more n get closer to u!!

♡ FRUITBLR ♡

(aka mcyt friends)

♡ @fear-epidemic ♡ atlas u are so swaggy and funny!! tumblr funny man!! im so glad we’re mutuals, i love u a whole lot. that one time u me n wilby played bed wars together was so fun even if we’re really bad! n that one time we played on the fruitblr server while on vc was so fun, i loved talking to u n playing with u so much, we gotta do that again sometime. i love u so much chapin n im so glad we’re friends!!

♡ @netheritedream ♡ hari my beloved... i love u so much. like literally so much that its really embarassing. i am so glad u tagged me in that one follow forever post n put the offer on the table to let me join the server. i love being ur dumb lil husband!!! jus like actual fundy, i would risk it all to watch treasure planet with u. i love u sososo much, i wish i could live closer to u so i could actually talk to u more often </333 im going through severe withdrawal, pray for me. im gonna stop talking for now bc if i kept going on, this post would be several miles along n nobody has time for that </3 just know that i love u so much and i love having matching icons n i love being ur husband, i love u so much

♡ @sootswilbur ♡ tommy... i care you so much. little bromther!!! im sososo glad we’re friends bc u are so kind to me all the time n u are so easy to talk to!! ur also so talented, ur writing n ur gifs are so amazing n im so proud of all the awesome stuff u make!! seeing u experiment more with ur gif sets n trying new things is so awesome n inspiring and i love seeing ur experiments work out!! i love u soso much n im so happy to be ur big brother!! (or one of them at least)

♡ @fruitbur ♡ virgil my Other beloved... i love u so much!! u are one of the kindest people ive ever met n im so glad i met u!! i know ive already told u this before but ur tagging system is so sweet n i love seeing u reblog my posts bc im like “yay alastair is gonna tell me that he loves me in the tags :D” i also lovelovelove ur theme, i love the soft pink and the lil aesthetic board that u have pinned, its so nice to look at!!! ily sososo much <333

♡ @theartofmining ♡ hey fruit ily. like genuinely, u are so unbelievably funny that u make my ribs hurt so much. i know we’re like never rly that serious but i love u so much. as much as i joke about hating u, i really am glad we’re friends n i really look forward to becoming better friends with u. i love u a whole lot rain, i love seeing u on my dash bc ur full of good takes n funny posts

♡ @sapnaplive ♡ dream.... bonks our foreheads together... i care u so much. my other half!!! i love u with my whole little heart. u are soso cool and im so lucky to be able to call u my friend!! ur themes are always so cool, i wish i could be half as cool as them!!! ur art is also so epic like??? u are a triple threat: good at art, tumblr themes, AND minecraft building. and ur also so kind!!! u are one of the sweetest people i know, i love u so much and im so glad im friends with u!!

♡ @dreams-little-kitten ♡ corn u are so weird and i mean that in the kindest way possible. u are so cryptic n i love that so much about u. ur like the wilbur to my philza sometimes and i think thats so awesome. that one time u came into my inbox to talk shit about that one cuphead boss was so funny and absurd, i loved that so much. i love You so much. i love how ur just so effortlessly funny, n im so glad i can be friends with u

♡ @dreamsmp ♡  JEL!!!! i love u so much holy cow. u are so sweet!! all the time!!! ur also so talented, ur gifs always look so good!!! i love being friends with u, ur always so nice to me n u always leave rly nice tags when u reblog my gif sets that make me so happy!!! i think about that one time u rbed my fundy gif set n said “FUNDY GIFS” and “GIFS BY FUNDY” it made me so happy!!! i love u a whole lot, im so glad we’re friends :)

♡ @leaguelol ♡ damien!! i love u so much u funky little cryptid!! i love when u pop into the gc just to share cryptic thoughts, u are so strange but i think thats so cool of u!!! i honestly see u kinda like a lil sibling, im always so proud of u when i see ur art on my dash!! u are so talented at art!! i love u so much n i love being ur friend, ur rly sweet n i love seeing u on my dash and in the gc!!

♡ @its5undy ♡ idk why im putting u on this, ur my mortal enemy. jkjk, i actually love u a lot clay! i love joking around with u, ur so funny and for what. im so glad u joined the gc bc i love talking to you so much!! i still love that one time u reblogged that fwt gif set n tagged me in it moments after I reblogged it. i love that u thought about me, that rly warms my heart! i love being friends with u sososo much

♡ @cavalreee ♡ oh hey, another great big fruit!! i dont think we talk all that often, which is a shame, bc ur so sweet!! and also so fucking funny, why is everyone in this friend group so fucking funny, its not fair. i love seeing u on my dash talking with ur other friends, u always have the funniest convos ever. also? ur desktop theme is SO epic, it threw me off the first time i saw it but its so swaggy, just like u!! i love u soso much azzie, n i hope we can talk more in the future bc ur so cool

♡ @technosoot ♡ i love u even tho ur a br*t /j /j /j. jannat u are so unbelievably sweet. im so glad u joined the gc bc u are such a kind presence both in there and on my dash! u radiate very Warm, Friend energy. ur friend shaped. i love u so much n i love being friends with u!! im very eager to become closer friends with u bc u seem like a really amazing friend to have

♡ @sortasortaspicy ♡ les where are u in the gc i miss u </3 i love u so much, u fit in so well from the very beginning n brought so much more fun and laughter into the gc. i dont know u all that well n i dont think we’ve talked one on one like. at all. but id love to get closer to u bc ur so rad and ur so sweet!!

♡ EPIC PEOPLE  ♡

(aka mutuals who are so cool n id love to be friends with u pls talk to me)

@eurytherm ♡ @vampkings ♡ @weelbur ♡ @wilburtheesoot ♡ @quackityskarl ♡ @wimblrscoot ♡ @technofarmer ♡ @wooteena ♡ @bloodforblood ♡ @smpsapnap ♡ @literallynotfound ♡ @hearty-an0n ♡ @enderanboo ♡ @springbonniecpu ♡ @pandascanpvp ♡ @tommylnnits ♡ @strawberrygogy ♡ @timedeo ♡ @nymika-arts ♡ @h-isforhome ♡ @eboykarl ♡ @joe-alkaysani ♡ @betwecouldmakesome ♡ @squirrelstone ♡ @maddieandchimney

[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

I’ve been thinking about the anniversary of Sanders Sides coming up, and thinking about...the journey it has taken my on over the last year or so. I have been a bit...introspective of late, so I decided to document that journey, not just for my own sake, but...as a “thank you” to @thatsthat24 because I wouldn’t be the writer I am today without this series, and as a “thank you” to @beauty-grace-outer-space who gave me the support to share my work in the first place.

December 1, 2017 I took a road trip with my best friend. We were driving up to Phoenix to see Welcome to Night Vale All Hail live. My friend was driving, because they know I hate to, and on our way up, they handed me their phone and told me to go to YouTube and open their history.

YouTube had recently suggested this series and they thought I would enjoy it. "It's this guy and he talks to himself through these different parts of his personality and he does the whole thing by himself." was roughly how they described it to me.

A bit skeptical, but intrigued I asked "Like Inside Out?"

"Yeah, kinda. I think you'll like it."

I will admit I remained skeptical through the first four or so episodes, but it was growing on me and by the time I got to Accepting Anxiety, I let out a fuming "WHAT?!" when the video abruptly ended unresolved.

My bestie did what any good friend would do in their position and they laughed at me. They laughed at my misery and then reminded that the next one was just a click away, much to my relief.

We had a blast that night at the show and as we made our way home the next day, I binged through the rest of the series and was both pleased to have gotten to enjoy such a delightful series and eagerly awaiting more.

When Twelve Days of Christmas dropped Christmas Eve of 2017, my bestie once again laughed at me when I excitedly texted them about the new video, stating that they were quite pleased to have "corrupted" me to one of their fandoms.

And from then on it was something of a background constant in my life. It was something I enjoyed and that never failed to make me smile. My friend and I would discuss things about new episodes after they dropped, but it wasn't something that I was as "into" as much as I was with other fandoms at the time. When I first started this series, first met Anxiety, I was sure he'd be my favorite. He was snarky, cynical, a bit grumpy overall. He fit the general mold for a lot of my favorites. Also, I had just recently a had a very public and fairly significant panic attack a few months prior to watching the series. But the series sort of hung in the background, and I never truly had a "favorite".

Then came May 1, 2020 and Putting Others First and overnight Roman became the most important character to me.

To this day, I can't put my finger on exactly what did it, whether it was the desperation in Roman's voice when he was saying that Thomas was supposed to be good, or the look of hurt on his face and the quiet unbelieving "Right." as he sank out, but there was something about that moment, something about Roman still clinging to the idea of being Thomas's hero that... struck a chord in me and made me very aware of an old emotional scar that...hadn't healed as well as I thought it had.

I became very active in the fandom after that and created this blog, which becomes very apparent when you go back to my earliest posts, many of which are me jumping to Roman's defense.

See, back in 2011, I was a senior in high school, my English/Lit teacher had us read Animal Farm for class and then we had to create something of our own and present on it for a project.

I drew a map.

The Lord of the Rings and the Silmarillion were huge special interests to me at the time so I drew a map inspired by Beleriand and was so excited about it, I shared the sketches with my teacher.

"Have you thought about writing a background story for this?"

I admitted I had, but was nervous to, but I had some ideas I wanted to try out. I will…never forget the way she looked at me as she handed me back my rough pencil sketches on plain card stock and said, "I really think you should think about writing a story for this." I will never forget...how much she believed in me.

I took her advice and I ran so fast and so far, by the time graduation rolled around and I was supposed to come up with a senior project, I had an entire plot and several chapters written for my very first story.

My family was mostly supportive of the idea of me writing a book as a hobby, mostly interested in the plot and the characters. Toward the end, as I was wrapping up what I wanted to share for my project, I received a few comments about being "obsessed" with it and that maybe it was taking up too much of my time, but I persevered through it.

It was...about a year and a half later that I found myself standing in my room, facing a parent and being told that I would never be good enough to be a real writer. That it was unrealistic and I needed to let it go.

I really did try to keep going after that, mostly writing fanfic in secret with my best friend and occasionally dabbling in original story ideas from prompts I found on pinterest. But it has been about seven years since I last tried to write anything for that very first story.

Then on December 5, 2016 I signed up on tumblr and eventually would meet the lovely @beauty-grace-outer-space who has become both a very dear friend and who opened my heart to sharing my writing and thoughts again. Because of her I posted my first work to AO3 on December 12, 2018. I will forever be grateful to her for giving me the courage and the support to do so. Because, honestly? Without that? I’m not sure I would even be writing this at all. So thank you for that. Thank you for believing in me. You’ve truly made my life better. 

I wrote and posted a few Trek fics, and became braver in my writing. But I still felt ashamed of it, felt guilty for it. I often felt like I was wasting my time, or that writing was my "guilty pleasure" that I sometimes over indulged in. And for years I didn't know why I felt that way. Didn't know why...I felt so bad for doing something that I loved so much. Something that...helped me to feel things when I was struggling to. I didn't understand it.

Then I watched Roman sink out brokenhearted, having the had the most important thing he had snatched away from him and it all came crashing into place.

I had found something I was good at, something I loved and I’d had it ripped away from me. And while I had forgiven that person for what he said to me, because I knew he meant well by it, meant to motivate me to more realistic career options, I hadn't actually healed from those words. Those words were why I felt guilty over writing, why I felt ashamed to call myself a writer.

It was a lot to process.

Over the week or so after the episode dropped, I'll admit I got a bit angry over it. I began to realize...how little people appreciate art in any form, how society looks down on those with creative aspirations, not deeming them worth anything unless the person creating becomes famous and rich for what they made. And it all felt so unfair.

I became angry that I had been made to feel ashamed for being creative.

So I decided I wouldn't be anymore.

Now, that's not as easy as it sounds and it’s something I still struggle with, I still don't talk about my writing to my family at all, but since all that happened I have posted thirty-one Sanders Sides fics/AUs to AO3. Thirty-one. 

In this last year or so I have rewatched and learned so much about myself through this series. I had a dream that Logan was the representation of my more masculine aspects and have since come to terms with being enby/genderfluid, I have learned how to better work with and communicate with my own Anxiety, but the thing that has meant the most to me, the thing that has been most healing  to me is that I have come to accept that Creative Spirit in me. 

As heart breaking as it was to see Roman so hurt at the end of POF it...has really helped me to grow as a writer, and that...that is a gift I will never be able to repay.

Roman Sanders the character and Thomas Sanders the creator are truly my heroes.

I wouldn't be the writer I am today without them.

[harryhandstan]

you bring me home

tw: death

word count: 2,356

This is a piece that was something more personal to me and I'm thankful to Olivia (@bfharry​) for allowing me to include it in her bf!harry fic-a-thon. My aunt died in early December of 2019 very suddenly. She and my uncle had been together for almost 20 years, but since common law marriage is not recognized in my state, her sister was in charge of all arrangements. Her sister lived in another state and basically just called and set up everything for her cremation over the phone. My uncle was too devastated to really speak up and say anything, so my family and I never truly got a chance to have the experience of a funeral for her. I never felt like I got that closure I needed, so for the past 8 months since her death, my brain has cycled through this vicious cycle of denial and depression, never fully reaching acceptance. This piece is basically just the experience I wish I had and Harry helping me through the grief process.

It's also the very first Harry thing I've ever written and posted here so any and all feedback is welcome!

also lots of hugs to @geoffwittek​ for reading over everything for me and being such an angel in general 

"Linds? We're gonna be late, love. Your family's still meeting at 3, right?"

His voice sounds distant, despite you both being in the same room. Your brain registers the noise but is unable to form a response.

He stands near the end of the bed, hands in his pockets, head down, "We don't have to go if it's too much for you. I'm sure your family would understand."

The black dress Harry helped you shop for 2 days ago lays, taunting you, at the end of the bed. You remember mindlessly wandering around before you had a breakdown in the middle of the department store. Harry had to sit with you on the bench outside of the store until you pulled yourself together enough to go back in.

Nearly a week ago, you had answered a call from home only to find your world turned upside down. Your Nanna cried on the other end, she couldn't believe the news was true either. It was so sudden and so unbelievably unexpected.

Your Aunt Linda was dead.

Thankfully, Harry had invited you over for dinner and a movie that night. You still don't remember how you stopped crying long enough to tell him the news. He held you on top of his chest, letting you sob until exhaustion took over and you fell asleep.

Currently, you were sitting on the side of the bed. Something in your brain had prompted you to gather enough strength to take a shower a couple of hours ago, but you hadn't had the energy to move since then. Harry's warm hand squeezing your shoulder brings you back to reality long enough to look at the clock and see you only had 10 minutes to get ready and be out the door.

"You coming back to me there, angel? Anything I can do to help you get ready for this?" he kneels in front of you, one hand on your thigh, the other cupping your face, wiping one of the many tears that were starting to form and fall.

"No, no, I can do this. I still wanna go. Just give me 5 minutes to get ready?"

"I'll go warm up the car." he leans up slightly and kisses your cheek before grabbing a set of keys off the dresser and disappearing down the stairs.

You throw the dress over your head quickly. Dread builds in your stomach but you push through, selecting a pair of pantyhose and taking longer to put them on than you have to spare, making sure you don't rip the delicate fabric. Shoes waited on the floor at the foot of the bed, a simple pair of black flats with a small silver buckle.

The bathroom lighting does you no justice as you try your best to do something to make yourself look somewhat presentable. You know there's no point in makeup, it'll all end up washed away by tears most likely before you even arrive at the funeral home. You apply a quick layer of moisturizer, hoping your skin will have a chance to recover before it's all washed away too. Your hair gets swept back into a low bun and at the last minute you grab a pair of earrings to loop through your ears on the way down the stairs and out the door.

The cold, winter air of December surrounds you as you make your way to the car. Harry was true to his word and had the car warm and waiting for you.

You take a shaky deep breath once you're settled in the passenger seat. Harry rests a hand on your knee, "You sure you're ready, peach?" you smile faintly at his nickname for you.

You'll never forget meeting him for the first time and comparing accents; your Georgia drawl versus his British one. Some nights when you were both delirious with sleepiness but unable to drift off, you would just exchange single words back and forth, trying to mimic one another. The nickname tended to roll off his tongue easier when you were in your hometown.  

You shake your head no. How could you ever be ready for a day like this? Despite she and your uncle never getting married, she always supported and loved you and your siblings as her own nieces and nephew from day one. How were you supposed to live without a woman who always had an encouraging or motivational word to offer when you were sad or frustrated? A woman whose light was so bright in your life that her absence surrounded you with a darkness you could never imagine pulling yourself through? ______________________________________________________________

"You're making your lip bleed, lovie. Here." He swipes a thumb softly over your bottom lip. He pulls a tube of lip balm out of his coat pocket and you gratefully take it and use it.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this, H." You look down at your hands, a few frayed tissues lay on your lap, messy and still wet with tears. Your gaze meets his, eyes pleading for some sort of escape.

His arm wraps behind your back and a hand rests on your side, pulling you closer to him. He kisses your temple, "Do you want to leave?" His voice is a low, comforting rumble in your ear.

You look around at the small funeral home chapel. Only two of the twelve long wooden pews were filled. Most of your aunt's family still lived in Virginia, where she was originally from, and none of them could be bothered to pay their respects here in small town, Georgia. You couldn't leave now.

He reads your face, a brief glance over your features, feels your body relax into his, "Just say the word if you change your mind, alright?"

You rest your head on Harry's shoulder for the remainder of the sermon. The preacher is nice enough, but the speech he prepared is all wrong. Your aunt would have appreciated this, but it just wasn't her. Wasn't an accurate representation of who she was and the impact she had on your universe.

The preacher finally wraps up with a prayer, asking all to stand and bow their heads. You've never known Harry to be a particularly religious sort, but he grabs your hand and squeezes as he bows his head. A quick and thoughtful reminder that he's still there. He's not leaving your side.

The small gathering of guests parades past the casket now, all expressing their final goodbyes as they pass. Harry stands back, quiet and respectful, letting your family through first before he rejoins you. His hand lands on the small of your back and wanders around to rest on your hip as you walk back into the lobby together.

You accept a few hugs and expressions of condolences from the few friends that came. Your hand stays loosely tied to Harry's the whole time, and he uses his free hand to greet everyone you introduce him to. Your family offers you a spot in the family car to the graveside, but you decline. Harry assures them he'll drive you to the cemetery safely.

The graveside service is thankfully quick. Another gathering of guests and more kind words from the preacher. A small prayer. Emotional exhaustion is settling into your body, and Harry easily supports your weight back to the car when the service is over.

"Your Nanna cornered me in lobby before we left the funeral home while you were talking to your cousin," he starts the car and fiddles with the controls, adjusting the heat, "she wants us to come to her house for a bit. Are you up for that?"

You nod your head yes, still not sure if your voice is strong enough to not break when you answer him. You know it will only be your family there. 8 people, including Harry. You could handle that.

"Should we grab a bite to eat before we go? You haven't eaten much today, honey."

You chuckle. The first genuine laugh in a week bubbling up through your chest. You stop when you notice Harry's adorably confused expression, his brow furrowing together with slight concern.

"Oh, no. You don't eat before you go to Nanna's house, trust me." ______________________________________________________________

Harry is a warm addition to the small house on the hill.

His eyes go wide when he sees the amount of food spread across your grandmother's small round kitchen table. His gaze follows everyone already seated around the table and then back to you. All you can manage is an "I told you so" shrug.

"Is all this just to impress me or..?" his voice is a whisper in your ear, but the kitchen is so small it echoes around to the whole table.

"No, babe. This is how it always is at Nanna's."

Your Nanna and Aunt Donna, who you're sure spent all day making everything, insist that it's not THAT much food, but you know you'll all be guilted into at least finishing a full plate AND taking leftovers home for later. You're thankful to see even your uncle has a plate in front of him, knowing his appetite hasn't been the same since he lost your aunt.

When dinner is finished, a pot of coffee is made and passed aroud to accompany dessert. The aroma fills the house, the strong scent a comforting reminder of your Aunt Linda. She always said she hated the taste, but loved the smell. You inhale, the essence surrounding you and bringing back warm and lovely memories. You catch Harry's eye, a small smile crossing your face.

He makes his way around the living room, refilling a few mugs along the way. The open entryway between the two rooms allows you to watch the path he takes. He stops where your momma sits in a green plaid armchair, her lips are moving but you can't make out what they're saying. They both look at you and he turns back to her, a charming smile lighting up his face.

By the time he makes it back to the kitchen, you've slipped into your Nanna's bedroom. You know it's normally rude to disappear, but this place is home. Had been your second home all your life and you knew no one would care that you were slipping your shoes off and crawling under the covers of the freshly made bed.

You hear a lull of voices outside the door, and you're thankful for the noise, for the small comfort of gentle chaos. If you listen closely, you could pinpoint individual noises throughout the house; your dad and Nanna talking politics, your momma and sister flipping through channels on the living room tv, your Aunt Donna and your uncle questioning Harry about his favorite British television shows. You hear water running and picture Harry, his tall frame towering over the tiny kitchen sink, helping with the dishes. You feel a slight bit of guilt for leaving him alone, but by the sound of his laughter, he's making himself right at home too.

You drift to sleep, and when you wake, Harry is next to you. His long fingers smoothing comfortingly up and down your arm, "You disappeared, love. Thought you might like some company. Hope you don't mind me joining you."

You shift your body closer to him, your head on his chest, his arm resting behind your head, "Is everyone still here?"

He brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face, tucks it neatly behind your ear, "Your uncle just left a minute ago, but everyone else is still around. Your brother called, said he was sorry he couldn't make it. I came to find you, make sure you were okay."

Your little brother was in his last semester of college. It was finals week and you know he would've been here if he could.

"I'm okay...I mean as okay as you can be after a day like today, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

You slip off the bed and Harry follows you, hands on your waist to steady your balance while you slip your shoes back on. He helps you remake the bed, and the two of you make your way back towards the kitchen, now quiet that everyone moved to the living room.

"Harry?" You turn back at the last second before you leave the room. He's following so closely behind you you end up pressed against him.

"Hmm?" He catches you, pulling you even closer, the light from the kitchen shining on his face.

"I haven't had a moment to thank you today. For all of it..dropping everything and flying out here with me, spending the whole day with my family, driving me everywhere, just being here with me. You've kept me sane and I could never repay you for something like that."

"You don't have to thank me. I wouldn't have dreamed of being anywhere else than right here. You needed me and that was all that mattered, everything else can wait."

______________________________________________________________

“Ha! Look at baby peach! How old were you here?”

Your lap was covered in pictures, the few favorites you had brought with you from home. Harry was plopped next to you on the couch. The picture in question is a baby picture of you, chocolate icing all over your chubby cheeks.

“That’s my first birthday party.” You giggle at his smile, the way he can’t stop staring at the photo.

You shuffle through a few more, Harry being curious about each one and questioning you about every detail.

“Who’s this?” The picture he hands you takes your breath away for a second. You forgot it was mixed in and he instantly knows by the tears filling up your eyes.

“It’s your Aunt Linda, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I didn’t know..”

“No, it’s okay. This is a good picture of her. She had such an amazing smile.” He rests his head on your shoulder. 

“She loved you so much, babe. She would be so proud of you.”

“Yeah, she would’ve thought you were pretty great too, H.”

[strikearose]

Uncovering Passione's Underside (1/1) GIOMIS

What one can learn by listening to what the secretive Passione's staff have to say about their Don... One-shot, GioMis, Post-canon, Humor, G+ You can also read it on ao3 here!

For as long as many Passione members could recall, Agnese Bianchi had always been there, grumbling as she would mop the hall floor and nagging at fellow cleaning employees and ruthless gang members all alike. It didn't matter how long their felonious resumes were, she simply couldn't stand slackers. Years of working within that specific industry had forged her strong character - she was honest, hardworking, and probably a tad too outspoken too about her aversion for mobsters, but she still knew better than to ask silly questions like some other people did.

The housekeeper glared at the man who'd been chatting up the new cleaner (and therefore, preventing her from mopping up the floor as she had explicitly urged her to) for the last half hour. His name was Trado, Trattore, or something that sounded way too much like Tradittore anyway: he was one of the Don's many henchmen. Ever since he had started working there, he had taken that annoying habit of snooping everywhere, making idle chitchat with the household staff during rush hour.

The old maid cleared her throat, grabbed her cleaning cart handles, and pushed it unceremoniously between the pair. "Is that what you call cleaning the reception room? Signore Giovanna wants it sparkling clean: go fix it now or apply for another job already!"

Her harsh tone worked just fine: the young employee, caught red-handed slacking work, gasped in surprise and mumbled a brief apology before leaving in a hurry. The man, however, didn't seem the least concerned about her admonition. He simply smiled and raised his hands in self-defense - and lord if there was a way he could possibly piss her off even more.

Agnese chose to simply disregard his presence and rummaged through her pockets to find the key she needed.

Click.

As it opened, she began to push her cleaning cart over the door sill with some difficulty.

"Need some help?"

Agnese sighed when she realized he was still there. Who the hell was he taking her for?

"I don't. As always, I'm doing just fine on my own."

To her dismay, it seemed that her sharp answer didn't manage to get rid of the gangster. For God's sake, couldn't he just go bother someone else, literally anyone but her? There was nothing Agnese hated more than to have someone watch her every move.

...

Or perhaps slackers.

Slackers who intended on watching her every move.

"So, for how long have you been working there? They say you'll bury us all..."

Agnese rolled her eyes as she finally managed to get her cart through the doorway.

"Long enough to have seen my fair share of slackers come and go..." The cleaning lady truly wished he'd get the memo this time. She had seen it all: louts in suits with fake good manners and scarred faces, but also men that seemed to be way too nice and curious for their own good. To her, that last species was the worst: they were wolves in sheep's clothing.

But of course, Trado (or Trattore or whatever was his name) didn't appreciate the subtlety of her response, and he continued his questioning: "You've been there long enough to have known the former boss, right? The one before Don Giovanna, a real freak apparently... "

Agnese tensed at that: she didn't like where the conversation was heading. She was unfortunately all too familiar with those office gossips. A little over five years ago now, Passione had gone from having no official face, to Giorno Giovanna's gracing every streets' corners. Rumors had it that the young, brilliant, man had brutally murdered the Original Don in the span of a week. Others thought that Giovanna's was his son and that the boss had simply granted himself a well-deserved retirement.

She couldn't care less about what had truly happened: Don Giovanna gave her a monthly salary as well as direct, concrete instructions. And those were the two things that mattered to her. He was good at that, giving clear orders to the people to his service. And it was nicer to serve him than to obey blindly the weird requests she'd receive by mail like before.

"Don't you really have anywhere else to go?", the cleaning lady suddenly turned to the man she had heard approaching but was relieved to see that he had not dared to enter the Don's office. He was looking at her, peering at what she was doing, from the door's threshold. "If you want a piece of advice, stop being so damn noisy."

The gangster laughed and at that, Agnese wished she could just sweep him out of the room.

"Relax! I'm new here, I'm just curious. Don Giovanna's pretty nice, he won't murder us over some harmless chitchat."

The Boss of a criminal organization, a nice man?

It was Agnese's turn to snort.

Yeah, she guessed it was the kind of public image he was adamantly working on And some people seemed to believe it: newspapers were reporting less traffic, a decline in thugs harming citizens' and tourists' safety. The astounding sums of money he was giving to local shelters, hospitals, and public schools were also common knowledge: rumors had it that the city council was even thinking of naming the brand-new biological museum, founded thanks to his many donations, after him.

As a boss, Agnese considered him to be pretty decent  - well, as decent as being the Don of a criminal organization could possibly allow him to be considered. After all, he was well-educated enough not to leave clothes and magazines scattered everywhere like the previous boss and some of his most favored underlings did.

But as a man, there was no way she could possibly tell if he was nice. Agnese was just an old, tired cleaning lady: she never pried into the Don's private life even though she guessed there were things that couldn't escape her lack of malicious curiosity. Details such as notes and silly doodles scribbled on his desk, scraps of paper (of extremely dubious content) discarded in the garbage can she needed to empty or sweaters which were at least two sizes too big for him lying on the normally spotless ground of his room...

Sighing, the old maid was about to close the door behind her when she noticed it: the stupid smirk on the gangster's face. The stupid knowing smirk they always had whenever they would bring up the one topic she had no desire to discuss.

How she wished she could just spray him with a window cleaner to wipe it out of his face.

"You know people say 'bout them, right? I'm sure it's complete bullshit but..."

The answer Agnese gave him was the same she would lecture her own underlings with: "One thing I know for sure is that the Underboss always carries his gun on him... And the Don sure doesn't need one to silence people. So just drop it and mind your own business."

With a last sigh, she finally shut the door closed and started her heavy work. However, even though the noisy snoop had left, Agnese felt her mind drift to her first encounter with the Don as she was dusting the ancient bookcase.

It had happened about four years ago, on a late December afternoon - was it because she had arrived too early or because he had stayed in his office later than usual, but the door had been left open so she had loudly pushed her cart inside. The old cleaning lady had instantly understood her mistake - after all, there was little mystery about whom that man was... Who else would dare to enter the big boss's office in his absence?

Golden locks, emerald eyes looking right at her with mild surprise: he obviously had not been expecting her.

"Oh, it's already that time of the day," his chin tilted high and proud, the mafia boss had flatly made that statement.

Not knowing what to say, Agnese had simply nodded and taken a discreet look at the massive clock behind him. 8:17 pm. He was definitely the one behind schedule, not her: she was just on time.

Not that she could say it aloud anyway.

"I didn't know you were still in there, Signore Giovanna," while her head was slightly bowed as a sign of respect, she had not apologized for her intrusion. She had nothing to apologize for: boss or not, he was the one messing with the established schedule. "I'll come back to clean your office later."

Don Giovanna had however soon dismissed her concern with a motion of his hand.

"It's fine, you can start working now. I was about to leave anyway."

The old housemaid nodded and was about to approach the bookcase when she had stopped right on her track, seeing the state of the ancient Victorian carpet. The boss had a rather keen hearing as he almost instantly turned his attention away from his papers to peer at Agnese, understanding what the problem was right away.

The blood hadn't just spattered on the carpet - there were traces of it on the sofa. And on the cushions. As well as on the desk's marble border.

And of course, the Don had to insist on furnishing his office with pristine white furnitures  - even the smallest stain could be spotted from miles away.

Well, at least to look at the bright sight, Agnese realized that she wasn't the one who had to take care of the body, to each, his own mess: scrubbing out the carpet was already going to be a real nightmare.

"I apologize for that," the voice of her employer was surprisingly gentle, and it had taken her off guard. "I'll make sure the floor is covered properly next time."

As unbelievable as it might sound, the Don had kept true to his word: she hadn't been able to find a single drop of blood in his office ever since.

And she had even gotten a raise in the following week.

**

Rumors had it that Don Giovanna was capable of prodigious deeds that a rational mind could not possibly explain: that dazzling smile of his could enchant things and bend them to his will. Some prominent figures from all parts of the world, whose identities shall remain hidden, had apparently come out of his office miraculously cured. But rumors also had it that the reason why his public appearances were becoming more and more scarce was because of a growing sensitivity to daylight.

So Agnese paid very little to no regard to them. Most of the time, like Tradutti had stated, it was indeed complete bullshit.

However, later that night, as she undid her bandages to observe the state of the burn on a forearm (a stupid domestic accident involving a boiling teapot), Agnese was amazed to find her epidermis completely smooth. There was no more blistering or dead skin: her forearm was of a softness that contrasted with the rest of her body:the astronomical amount of tiger balm and aloe vera used could not possibly explain that. So as much of a skeptic as she was, the cleaning lady was forced to admit that it had to be somehow related to her earlier encounter with the Don.

As soon as she had stepped outside his office after tidying it, she had spotted the mafia boss in the hallway. He was accompanied by five or six men dressed in equally expensive suits. Among them was a face quite familiar to her: the city mayor who was making it to the news because of yet another corruption scandal.

The last thing she needed was to get involved in this ugly mess, so the cleaning lady kept her head high and bravely pushed her cart forwards. What she wasn't expecting however was for the Don to stop her.

"Did you injure yourself?"

She had had no choice but to peer down too at her bandage and lie through her teeth: "It's nothing, Signore."

His face showed no emotion, but he took a step towards her and delicately grabbed the injured arm before she could protest. His grip was somehow gentle but tight: there was no way she could escape from it. It was a literal iron fist in a velvet glove.

Agnese could still recall feeling the gazes of the Mayor and his bodyguards on her, they had also stopped walking to stare at her. Her heart rate had momentarily quickened when the Don's hands had brushed over her wound, his emerald eyes never leaving her confused expression. A sharp pain had set her wrist on fire... And then nothing.

She no longer felt a thing - it was as if it had never happened: Don Giovanna had taken a step back and addressed his subordinates, and they all had resumed their walk, any concern about the poor old maid definitely forgotten. The only one who had graced her with something (a strangely amused smile) before leaving was Guido Mista.

The Underboss truly was something. He often reminded Agnese of her own son: way too careless and untidy. His room was a literal nightmare to clean: most of his cashmere sweaters (which he had no problem leaving on the floor for all that mattered) needed to be hand-washed, and he also had the specificity of returning several times a month completely riddled with bullets.

The fact that he was somehow still alive despite his many injuries was as much a real blessing to him that it was a curse for her.

After all, Agnese was the one who had to clean up after him: and there was nothing easier than to track him because with Underboss Mista came blood everywhere.

Everywhere.

From the pavement outside to the sheets of a certain person whose name shall remain unknown.

...

The kitchen timer rang and Agnese was brought back to reality.

She couldn't say for sure if the Don was responsible for this miracle, but she still wished he could have also helped with her rheumatism too.

━━━━━ ༻🌱༺ ━━━━━

Unlike Agnese, Rolfo Giardino was still fairly new at that whole managing-not-to-get-mixed-up-in-mafia-mess-while-working-for-them dilemma. This gardener may have had twenty years of experience, nothing could have possibly prepared him for what was about to come.

The headquarters' gardens themselves were very pleasant - they were spacious and ideally located. Starting from scratch, that is to say from an austere backyard where some pathetic trees were beginning to wither to this authentic example of Giardino all'italiana, adorned with classical sculptures, flowering shrubs, fountains and ornamental parterres, had not been easy at first but Signore Giovanna had agreed to pay the price without thinking twice and the result was worth it.

Now that it was done, now that Rolfo and his team only had to maintain the garden (meaning watering the flowers and cutting the hedges one or two times a week), he guessed the job would be pretty nice if it weren't for all those mobsters who, for some reason he still couldn't gather, enjoyed watching him work. That, as well as those dreadful echoes of gunfire and screams which would shatter from time to time the peaceful atmosphere of the garden.

The rustling of water, the birds' chirping, a loud explosion from within the building... A nice sunny day overall.

Some of his employees were still refusing to work there despite his best attempts to reassure them: for as long as they would stay away from the actual building, it was not like something could happen to them, right? Still, they were places where even Rolfo himself did not like to approach, near the window overlooking what he thought was the Big Boss's office for instance. He had been forced to come close (way too close) to it because of his client's special request to have ivy and white roses gambling along this wall.

He had started working on it on a day when the weather was so mild that the window had apparently been cracked open for once - and the uncanny noises and groans that had escaped through it had scared the gardener to death. He hadn't dared to peer inside to find out what was really happening: the last thing he needed to know was what the Don of Passione's private torture sessions consisted of. Ever since that unfortunate incident, Rolfo had not ventured any closer to the damn white rosebushes. The branches were becoming too long, they were clearly starting to block the path of light, but as long as the Don didn't make any complaint, Rolfo would leave them be.

But on that day, however, the poor gardener saw red as his eyes fell on the figure loitering near that damn window: who was that son of a bitch was stepping on his flower beds!

"Hey you fucking moron: Move! Can't you see you're ruinin' my work?" Rolfo's shout managed to hit the bull's eye. The criminal was startled by it and half a dozen of armed men (probably criminals too) suddenly burst out the building to see what the hell was happening. He sprinted in the direction of the jerk and threw his pair of pruning shears at him. The gardening tool narrowly missed him - it crashed against the window instead (which, thank lord, did not shatter after the impact), but still made him leave. The stern face of Giorno Giovanna soon appeared, his head comically peaking out the building.

The Big Boss frowned when he realized that five of his men were gathered outside, frantically looking for someone, and took a deep breath: "Did one of you just threw a rock at my window?" He sounded confused, and to his credit, that was quite understandable.

Rolfo felt all adrenaline leave him abruptly - he could feel on him the murderous glares of literal murderers, who would have probably murdered him on the spot were it not for the presence of their Big Boss. He had no choice but to come clean: "Uhh, I do believe it was my pruners, Signore. I apologize, I swear they weren't aimed at you. It was for that damn...- uhh, I mean, that employee of yours!"

The Don didn't seem the slightest taken aback by the choice of weapon. He ran a hand through his braided locked and motioned for the others to go.

"You're saying that someone was eavesdropping on me just now?"

Rolfo looked down for a moment before answering: "Uhh, probably? I mean, he was stomping on my rosebushes near your window, that's for sure. They're Blanche Moreau's you know? They took weeks to arrive from France, weeks to finally blossom in Italy's sunlight!"

The mafia boss frowned at that, and Rolfo just knew he understood how valuable these roses were. After all, the Don seemed to be pretty knowledgeable about plants and lots of stuff: rumors had it that they were going to name that new museum after him so...

Signore Giovanna looked behind him and seemed to be addressing someone in the room: "Make sure to find him."

Curiosity overcame his initial reserve: standing on tiptoe, the gardener finally peered at the window to see what was happening inside. The office seemed incredibly spacious and clean: a dark-haired man, behind the desk, was adjusting the position of his cap on his head.

"Kay, I'll climb down the window to catch him faster! The fucker must be hiding somewhere close!," as soon as the man finished speaking, Rolfo couldn't help but react straight away.

"No, you can't do that! You'll ruin the other bushes!"

Both mafiosi looked at him for a moment and the old gardener realized he might have spoken out of turn, but the Don settled the matter for them anyway:

"He's right, I do like these Blanche Moreau's: go around my office Mista. And please, your zipper." That last part had been uttered quietly, but Rolfo had still managed to pick up on it. His devout Catholic mind would probably have been offended by it were it not for the sudden realization which left him quivering.

How on earth was he able to peak so clearly at the window now...?

"That fucking son of a bitch!", at that the mafia boss frowned and looked at him quizzically, but Rolfo couldn't halt the stream of profanities coming out of his mouth. It was too late. "He chopped it off! The whole branch!! It's all gone!"

**

Rolfo had promised his wife he would never get too close to the mafia, even though those paychecks sure were quite weighty. And yet as he was now, comfortably sitting in a well-made leather seat, a cup of coffee in his hand, he thought that for a first time within the shady building he had tried to avoid entering for so long, things were actually looking pretty normal. A week had passed since the unfortunate roses incident, and he had been surprised to receive after a subsequent sick leave a call from the Don's office. He didn't really have much choice, so he had shown up on time and was now patiently waiting in the lobby.

"Don Giovanna will now receive you."

Rolfo followed without a word the pretty secretary - she too looked way too customarily pretty to be involved in that kind of business. It was only when he passed under the massive arch of the door that he became fully aware of what was happening: the head of the Italian mafia had summoned him here.

As expected, it was the Don's spacious office, the one he had managed to catch a glimpse of through the window free of rose branches. The room appeared to be spotlessly clean - hell, it even smelled like a mixture of disinfectant and fresh lemon. Definitely not what he was expecting it to look like. Oddly enough, the very first thing he noticed was the tarp on the floor: that gaudy blue plastic was seriously clashing with the rest of the pristine white furnishings.

"Good afternoon, Signore Giardino. Is that the man you spotted by my window the other day?," Rolfo met the gaze of the mafia boss who was calmly standing to what soon turned out to be a man in bad shape, feet and fists bound onto the chair.

On the other side of the suspect, nonchalantly propped against the desk, was the gangster who had wanted to hop out the window.

All three of them were looking at the gardener expectantly, and he heard behind him the sound of the door closing. Of course, the pretty secretary couldn't stay.

"I can't say for sure Signore. See, I was so focused on the combat boots trampling my bushes that I didn't pay too much attention to his face..."

He hated the bastard who had wrecked his work, sure, but to rush him to such a tragic fate...

"Cool, then check it out!," the underboss had spoken with a casualness contrasting with the cruelty of the angle in which he twisted the poor man's leg. Rolfo had no choice but to look at the sole of his boot.

...

The fucking bastard.

There were still manure and rose petals stuck to it. And those were no common rose petals - they were large, fluffy and creamy white. They had been violently snatched away from a Blanche Moreau's sepal.

The gardener hardly needed to speak up to convince the mafia boss - the lethal look he was giving the tied-up man was already enough evidence.

Umberto Tradduto's fate had just been sealed.

Rolfo couldn't say what prompted him to look outside, but after that he only overheard bits of the conversation whispered in front of him: what was he was seeing right now was far more chocking anyway:

"I leave it to you for now Mista. I'll dispose of him later."

"Another donation to the museum?"

"Not this time. I think he'll make a fine aphid instead, that way our gardener will be able to settle his score with him."

Rolfo wasn't even pretending to be listening to what was being said anymore. He couldn't believe his eyes. He took a step towards the window and the two mafiosi, deep in their discussion, didn't notice it immediately.

"Keep your evening free, we'll be paying a visit to the mayor tonight. I'm getting tired of the spies he keeps sending here."

"Tonight? Hey, do you know how much it cost me to book the entire restaurant?"

The Don cleared his throat as if suddenly reminded of the other two's presence: "The sooner the better. I'm sure she won't mind. You'll reschedule your date later."

Mista was about to protest, but he fell silent as he realized where the gardener was standing: "Hey man, what the...-"

But Rolfo overstepped his role again to cut him off. His eyes shining with emotion, he turned towards the mighty Giorno Giovanna and addressed him as if he was a true deity.

"How...- How did you...? This is prodigious Signore!"

Behind him, blocking the light from the window, were proudly standing three beautiful unscathed roses branches.

━━━━━ ༻ 🚗 ༺ ━━━━━

Alfredo waked up completely startled as he heard someone bang on his window: dozing off at the wheel was a rookie mistake, he was well aware of that - but still.

"Hey open up!"

The underboss' voice was agitated - something very rare for such an easy-going man, so Alfredo immediately unlocked the doors and got out of the vehicle to assist him. Mista was backing up the big boss, a hand wrapped under his shoulders to help him stand.

The driver shot a panicked look at the small cottage they had just come from: what the hell had just happened in there?

Alfredo glanced at the Don's patent leather shoes - he was dressed as reverently as usual - and then at the underboss' worn-out leather jacket: even though they were clothed as if they were going to very different events, they had asked him to drop them at the same address: the mayor's private country hous. He had followed the itinerary scribbled on the paper an informer had given him a few hours before. It was the driver's special talent: being resourceful. Even without a precise address, he always knew how to bring his customers to the desired place.

His clients never asked him how it worked, and in return, he never made any remark on the state they would return to the car in. Or to question why they seemed so keen to surprise the mayor at such a late hour of the evening.

Alfredo was even willing to give an extra hand if needed, occasionally overstepping his role of a simple driver if the client was likely to be a good tipper.

He opened the passenger door for the mafia boss, but to his great surprise the latter stopped him right there:

"I'm fine. Just open the trunk instead."

Alfredo tensed up but said nothing as he went back to his seat to retrieve his leather gloves.

It was another kind of extra service: helping them to get rid of incriminating clues. Well, it wouldn't be the first body dumped in the back of his precious vehicle, and certainly not the last. As long as they would pay for the subsequential cleanup, he didn't mind.

"How many bottles have you stolen?," The underboss had ushered that question to the boss not discreetly enough, and the driver allowed himself a relieved sigh.

No bodies on the horizon, then?

No scandal of the mayor's disappearance making the headlines on the next day?

Great, he'd be able to go back to bed sooner.

As he passed next to the two mafiosi to open the trunk, Alfredo noticed the two bottles of prestigious champagne that the Don was clutching tightly against his. chest. Oh wow. The underboss, on the other hand, was eyeing Giorno with a bewildered look, as if it had just occurred to him that the mysterious gigantic box he had been forced to carry from the cottage contained more bottles.

"Guido please, go fetch me a last one," the Don was less assertive than usual - you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

Alfredo awkwardly stood next to them in silence as he waited for his next instructions. Charcoal and emerald eyes were engaged in a long, fierce battle of dominance, neither of them breaking contact. Hell, it even seemed to Alfredo at some point that the Don fluttered his lashes - but that could also be exhaustion talking.

Years of working within that specific industry had taught Alfredo how they would inevitably settle that growing tension between them.

Once again, for as long as they would pay for the subsequential seats cleaning, he didn't care. It wouldn't be the first indecent make-out session to happen at the back of his precious vehicle, and probably not the last.

A partition wall was always between Alfredo and his clients. Until now, he had never managed to catch them red-handed, but he had heard of those rumors. And he, better than anyone else certainly, knew for a fact that the Don had never sought to have good company brought to him. He'd always travel to his secondary residence alone while the underboss was the kind of man who preferred to drive there by himself.

Apart from the occasional names slips, he had never witnessed any tender gesture, he had never overheard anything remotely ambiguous. The details that had tipped him off were more subtle, or well usually at least they were. They would simply sit a little too close to one another, with no free seat between them - the pair was never five feet apart so that to speak. But right now, unless he would turn off the parking lights, there was no way Alfredo could pretend he wasn't seeing the Don's right hand slowly lowering far too low along the other's back. It was clearly no longer a question of keeping his balance.

"Fine," the Don let out a dramatic sigh and the driver nearly said hallelujah - now that he had admitted defeat, they would be able to leave at last! "If you won't do it, then fine I'll ask our driver instead."

Holy shit, what the hell was going on that night?

Alfredo quietly took a step back to exit the scene but it was too late - both mafiosi were already looking at him. If they were seriously intending on making him break into the mayor's house, he sure hoped they were ready to give a real good tip.

Fortunately, the underboss shook his head and rolled his eyes (had they just swapped personalities?), before reluctantly talking: "'kay you win I'll go. But then, we're outta here." Mista put the box inside the trunk and headed back to the cottage, leaving the driver in the company of the big boss who didn't seem quite inclined to enter the car yet. So Alfredo had no choice but to stay with him outside, on the chilly night and very awkward silence.

It was only after the third hiccup of the Don that the realization came down to him: he wasn't injured by any means, he was just completely drunk.

"Umm," Alfredo knew he wasn't supposed to question his boss, but the silence between them was becoming seriously uncomfortable. "So were you celebrating something Signore?"

The mafia boss looked at him for a long moment - god, the poor driver sure hoped he hadn't made a mistake, before shrugging: "Not really. I simply like Champagne, especially when I'm not the one paying for it."

Who could have thought that someone who spent so much on luxury clothes could be stingy?

Alfredo decided to politely answer. "Yes, I've heard you own several vineyards in Europe Signore. It's clever, I'm sure you never run out it..."

At that, the mighty Giorno Giovanna ungraciously hiccuped again, and the driver had the decency to pretend not to notice it.

"Mhhh.. You don't get it," had the mafia boss just snorted in contempt? "It's not so much about the Champagne itself as it is about the pure satisfaction of having taken possession of it... The mere contentment in knowing that the stupid mayor will never be able to savor it now that it's mine, you know?"

No, of course, not. There was no way Alfredo could possibly relate to that: it must be one of those crazy rich people whims.

Not that he could say it out loud, of course. The night was getting colder and colder, so he hoped the underboss wouldn't take long to be back.

"Would you like a bottle?," the Don's question took him by surprise so the driver, out of reflex, shook his head.

"Good, or you would have had to convince Mista to go back."

The stingy rich bastard.

Alfredo couldn't believe he was thinking that of him, in any other situation he would never have allowed himself to think that of Giorno Giovanna, but there were at least eight bottles in the trunk, he had seen them. And the Don knew that.

Fortunately, the underboss chose that exact moment to reappear and slam the trunk door shut after charging it with two other bottles.

Discreet much?

But whatever, the Don seemed rather pleased with that and finally agreed to go inside the car - his customers' satisfaction was what mattered the most to Alfredo.

After all, with good service came good tippers.

And that night, in exchange for the obvious promise to keep his mouth shut about what he had witnessed, the underboss sure went overboard with the tip.

━━━━━ ༻ 🧹 ༺ ━━━━━

It was now 8:20 a.m.: even though the day had started way earlier for Agnese, she had had to wait for the mobsters living upstairs to rise and shine, so she could proceed to clean their rooms. It was by far the task she hated the most: grabbing her heavy cleaning cart, she pushed it towards what had to be the cleanest place of them all. The Don's private quarters, starting with his excessively large bathroom: since the fancy tiles there took the longest to dry, she would then continue with his connected bedroom.

However, as soon as she stepped foot inside, Agnese almost fainted at the horrible sight that met her eyes.

Clothes, confetti and popped balloons were scattered everywhere, pieces of glass were covering the soaked floor, and an astronomical amount of what furiously smelled like Champagne had been dumped into the bathtub, splattering the walls and the carpet- hell, it even seemed like some of it was still fizzing inside.

Up until now, she had thought that she had seen it all, that nothing that the most wicked mind was capable of, could possibly surprise her. But that was a whole new level of a mess.

Thankfully, the inscription on a balloon (the survivor, the only one that had not exploded yet) was what prompted her not to hand the culprit her immediate resignation letter.

The Don's birthday would only happen once a year.

And with some sheer luck, she'd be able to negotiate her well-deserved retirement before the next one.

**

That morning, Guido woke up because of a cuss word that reminded him very much of his native Italian countryside. He had no idea what time it was:  Giorno's expensive alarm clock having been inadvertently smashed the night before. He yawned gleefully and stretched out his arms before turning to face the lumpy shape beside him.

The mighty Giorno Giovanna, drool on his chin, was muffled in his blanket, and it didn't seem from the look of it that he'd be getting up any time soon.

He was probably dealing with a hell of a hangover right now - served him right for the astronomical quantity of Champagne in which he had literally bathed and drowned. Giorno would decidedly never learn from his past mistakes. Well, he was very much looking forward to taunting his lover for years about that unfortunate late birthday episode.

There was no way the mafia boss would be able to conduct his meetings of the day - changing the planning wasn't something to worry about even though it would piss the hell out of Fugo for sure. Feeling compassionate about what was awaiting Giorno, he gently patted what he thought was his head (?) and smiled as he heard him grumble in return. How cute.

Guido finally stood up to start his day, he would smuggle him some Ibuproben later but first thing first, his much-awaited morning tinkle. And a long hot shower. Yeah, that way he would perhaps find a ploy to avoid dealing with Giorno's responsibilities instead of him. While he was not hungover, the late night's events had completely drained him of his energy.

Giorno's bathroom truly was something: it was way more spacious and tidier than his own. To him, it was a literal spa: cool extra-powerful water jets, a gigantic glass shower cabin AND a massive marble bathtub, a myriad of bottles of heavenly-smelling shampoo, conditioners, shower gels and body lotions everywhere - hell, there was even a housekeeper politely handing him a towel.

...

Holy shit.

Trying his best to cover his naked glory, Guido Mista could only stutter pitifully:

"Uhh.. Yeah, so about that new raise of yours we were discussin' the other day..."

This would only be the fourth time of the year, so at this point...

[ya-like-space]

Snowstorms and Cocoa

Snow is cold. Snow is really freaking cold, which is something that Souji finds out after moving to Inaba. In the city, he never really had to deal with it. But now that he's in the country, it’s now so much bigger of a problem. He’s had to shovel snow three separate times this week alone. That’s too many times! Also, did he mention how cold it is? Because it's so cold .

The bright side was that he got to see Yosuke in winter clothes. Which is how he ended up here, walking aimlessly around town with Yosuke in a goddamn snowstorm. Normally, he’d be holed up in his bedroom, or underneath the new kotatsu he and Nanako had picked out. Nevertheless, when Yosuke had shown up at his door, asking if he wanted to go on a walk, he didn’t have in his heart to turn him down.

They only been out for 15 minutes, and Souji was freezing, and he was sure everyone within a 15 mile radius would be able to hear his teeth chattering. He was just so cold. But when he looked at Yosuke, it didn’t even seem like he was bothered at all.

“Yosuke? Aren’t you cold?”

Yosuke turned to look back at him. Shaking his head, he continued on.

“Of course not partner! Are you?”

“Yes! I’m freezing!”

Suddenly, Yosuke stops in his tracks. He moves back to stand near Souji, and grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers. Souji and him’s relationship was still pretty new, and Yosuke doesn’t really know how to do the whole “PDA” thing. So whenever he tries to do things like these, he always ends up chickening out. But not this time. Blush spreading across his face, Yosuke looks away from him. Even so, he can sense the smile on Souji’s face.

“Better?”

Souji grips his hand tighter, shifting even closer to him.

“Mm. Definitely.”

The snow continues to fall around them, covering the streets and sidewalks in a soft white blanket. They were the only ones outside, the world calm and motionless around them. It felt like walking around in a dream. There was something about it that made them feel serene. Souji no longer felt cold. The warmth surrounding his hand was making him feel content. Being close to Yosuke like this, in such a peaceful state, was wonderful.

They slowly start making their way back to the Dojima household, as the snow starts  falling harder and harder, till they’re walking in a full on snowstorm. By the time they reach the house, it’s reached blinding levels of snowfall.

It wouldn’t be safe for Yosuke to walk home in this, so Souji insists on him staying over. He calls his parents to let them know what happened, and console a crying Teddie, who’s upset that he doesn’t get to see Sensei. It takes 5 minutes to convince Ted that he can’t come over right now, only managing to persuade him after promising to buy him a box of topsicles.

When Yosuke finally hangs up, Souji’s moving around in the kitchen, and that’s when he gets an idea.

He waits until Souji turns around before quietly making his way inside, his face softening as he watches Souji moving around the kitchen with a happy little smile as he hummed quietly to himself, stirring a small pot on the stove.

Seeing Souji like that wasn’t going to stop Yosuke from being a massive shit and messing with him.

Taking advantage of the fact that Souji’s guard was down, Yosuke snuck up behind him, making sure that he wasn’t holding anything dangerous that would accidentally hurt either of them before leaning forward and putting his hands on Souji’s shoulders.

Souji let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeal,  and Yosuke was almost entirely convinced that Souji was in some part a cat, from how he practically hit the ceiling when he jumped.

Yosuke was laughing so hard he could barely breathe, and it was so unbelievably worth it.

“Yosuke!”

Souji turns around and Yosuke traps him in his arms, preventing him from moving.

“Hey partner.”

Unfortunately, he didn’t manage to trap Souji’s arms, and ended up getting bopped on the head.

“What did you scare me for?”

“You were an easy target! It was the only logical thing to do.”

Souji smirked.

“Of course of course. And I assume you don’t want any of the hot chocolate I’m making?”

Yosuke would never  turn down anything made by Souji, least of all his fantastic hot chocolate. One of the best things Yosuke’s ever had. He lets Souji go back to what he was doing, leaving the room to go and sit under the kotatsu.

He watches Souji in the kitchen, standing over the stove, making the hot chocolate from scratch because he doesn’t use hot chocolate mix. Of course he doesn’t. That would be blasphemy. Subconsciously, Yosuke walks back into the kitchen and wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, resting his head on Souji’s shoulder. He cranes his neck to sniff at the pot on the stove.

“Mmmm. Smells delicious.”

Souji turns to nuzzle his cheek, setting down the wooden spoon he was holding. “Good. Could you get some mugs?”

They walk into the living room hand in hand, carrying their cocoa, and cuddle up on the couch under a blanket. Yosuke takes a long sip of his drink, leaning back into Souji’s chest. It really is delicious. He never understood how Souji can be so good at cooking, even with simple things like this. Honestly, it only makes Yosuke love him more.

After they’d finished their drinks, Souji had flicked on the TV, putting on old Featherman R reruns. Yosuke flipped over to lie on Souji’s chest.

"I like this."

Souji chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that Yosuke felt resonate against his chest.

"I'm glad you do, Partner ," he said, moving his hands up to tangle themselves in Yosuke’s hair

Yosuke felt himself heat up at the rare use of his own nickname back at him.

"You ass," his words muffled against Souji’s shirt. "Quit making me feel all embarrassed."

"Payback for scaring me in the kitchen"

Yosuke groaned, burying his face further into Souji’s chest. "I hate you."

"Nahhhh, you love me."

Now even more embarrassed, Yosuke pulls himself closer to Souji, intertwining their bodies completely, nudging his head into Souji’s neck.

“Mm. Yeah. Yeah I do.”

“I love you too, partner,” Souji replied softly, drifting closer and closer to sleep.

Moments later, Yosuke felt Souji move against him, and he shifted to look up at him. He had fallen asleep entirely now, and was breathing softly, with a gentle smile on his face. He looked so peaceful, lying there, and Yosuke couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he curled himself around Souji. Yosuke fell asleep soon after, to the beat of Souji's heart, his breathing, and the sounds of gentle snowfall outside the window.

@souyoweek2020​ Day 5 | snowstorm

Day 5!! For this one i had like, 2 other ideas for this, but i ended up picking this one. This one combined the other two ideas i had, one was gonna just be the snowstorm, the other was the hot chocolate. I did kinda give Souji my views on snow. it really cold. I also looked up a goddamn snow calendar for this thing. which is something that exists. in 2011 in japan it snowed for like 2-3 months straight apparently. which is neat. i imagine this takes place like late december early january.

[saltnhalo]

saltnhalo’s 2019 writing

This has been a big fucking year, and I'm so unbelievably grateful for the support and love of all my fandom friends, and to the people who read my fic for motivating me to keep telling all the stories that I have bottled up in my brain <3

ON AO3

A Sacrifice Worth Keeping (January)

5,151 words, Explicit

The sun rises over the treetops and touches Dean’s face, and still, he waits. The villagers have retreated back to the village to pray, allowing the god his privacy, and it is just Dean out here now. He closes his eyes, tips his face up towards the sun and allows its rays to caress his skin, knowing full well that it could be for the last time.

When he opens them again, there is a man standing in front of him.

(sacrifice Dean, pagan god Castiel)

Such Familiar Magic (January-March)

26,279 words (19,946 this year), Explicit

When solitary witch Castiel finds an injured dog unconscious in his garden, he takes it in. He's expecting to heal it, look after it for a few days, then perhaps return it to its owners.

He's not expecting it to be one of the strongest familiars he's ever met.

(witch Cas, familiar Dean, strangers to lovers)

The Meaning On My Skin (March-December)

82,787 words, Explicit

Castiel Novak never wanted to be a Dominant. Living with the mark on his skin that designates him as one has haunted him every day of his life, and he goes to great lengths to avoid the part of his biology that he hates. When he makes the decision to get a tattoo with the intent of hiding his mark away, he meets Dean Winchester: tattoo artist and confident submissive.

Dean turns Castiel’s world upside down and subverts every expectation Castiel ever had about himself and his designation. Will Dean be able to teach him how to be comfortable in his own skin?

(biological D/s, tattoo artist Dean, mutual pining)

Sending A Raven (March)

38,677 words, Explicit

When Dean, the Viking jarl of Týrvik, leaves on a raid to combat the enemy warriors attacking their ships, his husband Castiel is left to protect and lead the village. The ships return barely a week later, with damaged timbers and a devastated, leader-less crew, and suddenly Castiel finds himself not only in a position of leadership for which he is ill-equipped, but terrified for the safety of his captured husband.

With the possibility of a spy somewhere in the village’s midst, Castiel leaves his people under Sam’s care and departs on the journey north to where they think Dean is being held, in a desperate attempt to rescue him before it’s too late.

(viking AU, mutual pining, angst)

secret of the sea (March)

2,465 words, Teen

Dean is ten years old when he finds the injured seal, exhausted and adrift in the moonlit ocean.

(selkie Cas, kid Dean)

Where There’s Smoke (April)

6,183 words, Mature

When Castiel accidentally locks his keys in his car on a miserable, rainy night, a handsome, green-eyed firefighter comes to his rescue. Despite their initial spark, it takes a few tries before they can turn it into something more...

(firefighter Dean, bookstore owner Cas, strangers to lovers)

Homemade (June)

5,317 words, Teen

Dean Winchester, a successful but perpetually overworked and overtired engineer, meets chef and restaurant owner Castiel, his new neighbor. Castiel courts him in the form of homemade meals in Tupperware containers and handwritten notes, and Dean eventually takes it upon himself to return the favor.

(A/B/O, chef Cas, first meetings)

Steel and Whiskey (June)

6,207 words, Explicit

When Castiel agrees to meet with the leader of the Winchester pack in the heart of his territory, he does not find the alpha he’s expecting. Instead, he meets an omega in Dean Winchester’s apartment with stunning green eyes and an alluring air of danger.

Someone should have warned Castiel that the Winchester leader is not an alpha.

(A/B/O, mafia AU, first meetings)

Luminescent (June) 

17,222 words, Mature

Embarking on an expedition to the deepest, most unexplored parts of the ocean is all Dean has wanted to do since he was a kid. Now, his dream is finally coming to fruition, and he can feel in his bones that there is still so much to be discovered.

But nothing could have prepared him for what he finds in those uncharted, impossibly deep waters…

(creature Cas, marine biologist Dean, first meetings)

Chasing Storms (November)

5,929 words, Teen

Sam and Dean Winchester are world-famous storm chasers operating in North America's Tornado Alley. When they encounter a photographer who does not seem at all prepared for the reality of the tornado that's about to touch down, Dean is less than impressed.

(storm chaser Winchesters, photographer Cas, first meetings)

The Weight of a Promise (November)

5,939 words, Teen

Four years ago, Dean said goodbye to his childhood best friend and the only familiar he’d ever considered bonding with.

Tonight is the matching ball, where Dean, as the crown prince and an eligible witch, is expected to make an appearance. He’s determined not to dance, and definitely not to bond—until he meets an alluring familiar wearing a raven’s mask.

(masquerade ball, prince Dean, mutual pining)

Sourdough and Shenanigans (November)

5,298 words, Explicit

A prank war in the Bon Appetít test kitchen escalates, worsening the already-tense relations between Dean and newcomer Castiel Novak.

(chef Dean, chef Cas, sexual tension)

Out of Bed (November)

4,145 words, Teen

On his way back from the Quidditch Pitch late one night, Dean Winchester finds himself adventuring the deserted corridors of Hogwarts with the Head Boy.

(Hogwarts AU, mutual pining, friends to lovers)

On Display (December)

4,053 words, Explicit

“I’ve invited a special guest for today,” Dean tells his viewers, glancing away from the camera as the bed dips beside him. Cas is all easy confidence as he settles onto the mattress next to Dean, and they share a quick smile before Dean turns his attention back to the viewers. “This is my boyfriend. For all of you who’ve wanted to see me get fucked by something other than my varied collection of toys…” He winks teasingly and pitches his voice a little deeper—teasing, sultry. “Today’s your lucky day.”

(camboy Dean, Dom/sub, established relationship)

AO3 word count: 209,319

ON TUMBLR

Enochian | Secret Service AU | Beekeeper Cas | Bartender Cas | Crow Cas | Retirement | Familiar Cas | Stable boy Dean | Beach party | Vampire hunting | Moonlight | Streetracing | Singer Dean | Mornings | Grief | Painter Dean | Fate | Archaeologist Dean | Endverse | Valentine’s Day | Rockstar Dean | Geek Cas | Glassblowing | Punk angels | Space prison break | Printer | Otters | Rain | Knight AU | Camping | Informant Dean | Blind Dean | Death Dean | YouTube AU | College separation | Afterlife | Djinn | Mixtape | Bar | Wild West | Fae petstore | Incubus | Beach wedding | Shelter | Shower | Pining | Sometimes | Snowed in | Oscars | California | Simple Man | Motorbike Cas | Carry On | Research | Late nights | Astronaut Cas | Fae Cas | Professor Cas | 1920s bar | Christmas ficlets

100 word drabbles x x

Tumblr word count: 62,858

TOTAL POSTED WORD COUNT: 272,177

I’ve also been working on some stuff for @profoundzine that I won’t be posting until next year ;) so stay tuned!

Once again, thank you to all of my friends and everyone who reads my fics. Y’all are the reason that I can keep putting all my ideas into words and sharing them with the world, because fuck, I love writing so damn much. Here’s to 2020, you guys <3

[saratour]

Don’t give up love yet!

This was written for @cevansgirl writing challenge. Thanks for hosting this and getting myself into writing again.

A/N: It’s technically already the 2nd December but as long as I haven’t slept it isn’ the next day. So I still made it in time... kinda lol... I changed the whole fic in the last hour because I wasn’t happy with the beginning. I was only content with the ending so now the ending is the new beginning and I think that is kinda poetic.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: You were done with love, after several attempts at a relationship you came to the conclusion that love wasn’t just something you’ll get in this life. You made your peace with it but it seems like destiny had other plans for you.

Type: one-shot

Prompt: I don’t want to be in love, but you’re making me.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: uncertain feelings, open end

“Do you think I want that? I was happy! I made peace with it… but now?” you threw your hands in the air. A variety of emotions flashed over your face – anger, frustration, uncertainty, fear and… hope. “Argh! I don’t want to be in love, but you’re making me!” you almost screamed at Chris, letting him look at you all baffled. There it was! ‘Great work, (Y/N)’, you scolded yourself. Now you wouldn’t be able to get back to what you had. ‘As if you could’, snorted a small voice inside you. You felt helpless and lost. This whole situation got quite out of hand.

Chris was still trying to comprehend it all. His brows were knitted together tightly and his forehead was crinkled. “(Y/N), I had no idea…” You stopped him midsentence with a raised hand. “Don’t Chris, don’t make it any harder than it already is.” A sad smile appeared on your features and you turned your back to him. “I guess that’s it, huh.” Tears threatened to fall but you held them back. One mindless moment shattered years of perfect friendship. But what a cliché you were, falling in love with your best friend.

Your feet were taking you away without a conscious thought, faster and faster and just before you realized it, you were running from him. His callings became distant rather fast. He didn’t follow you and maybe that hurt more than if he actually tried to stop you from running away. Why did you have to realize your feelings when it was already too late. All those years you wasted. Buried the butterflies under false pretenses. You angrily whipped away the now falling tears. Sadness and frustration dominated inside you now. You wanted to hate him, be mad at him, blame him. Anything to help distract you from your own mistake. But the truth was, you couldn’t because you knew Chris did nothing wrong. You were to blame – in every way. First, you developed feelings towards him and afraid as you were, you pushed them deep down until he met someone else. Second, you were a bad best friend for not feeling happy for him. He deserved to be happy. Chris was caring, gentle, thoughtful, funny, beautiful inside and out and he deserved the world. Pity that his world was not you. The tears had stopped and with no particular goal in mind, you wandered around the busy streets, people passing you by, giving you nothing but a mere glance or a raised eyebrow. The big city, the anonymity you always appreciated left you with an unpleasant feeling of loneliness. You needed someone to tell you that everything would be alright, that you would get over your feelings, someone to hug you tight and block out the world for just a moment. But the irony was, that the only one capable of doing that was the one who caused everything in the first place.

You were so occupied with your pain and thoughts that you bumped into two girls coming out of the nearest shop entrance. After apologizing, you just stopped and for the first time after that horrible encounter, you noticed your surroundings. All the noises, the smells and the cold December air hitting your senses at once. It made you feel dizzy and you needed to steady yourself with one hand at the shop window. With an aching heart, you looked skywards. It was dark and cloudy, the night sky as black as your mood. Suddenly you felt something touch your face, it was a delicate contact. It was soft and cold first but then it changed into something wet. Fairly quickly you realized that it had started snowing.

The soft flakes falling silently down to earth. In awe, you held out your hand and caught a few. They immediately melted away, forming small trickles on your skin. ‘How tragic’ you thought, they were born in the clouds and descended this long way down and for what? Just to vanish after a few seconds? “Beautiful, isn’t it?” You looked up from your hand. An old man was smiling fondly while watching the snowflakes fall. He was quite stout with a round face and a big pug nose. He reminded you of your first Santa Clause in the shopping mall. “More like tragic”, you mumbled under your breath but the old man caught it nevertheless. “In a rather dark mood, aren’t we?” He chuckled with a deep, booming voice. His gaze lingered on you with a soft expression before he looked up again. Something in the way he looked at you made you feel at ease. “You could see their short existence as tragic, sure. But I like to think that they are happy.” You looked at him with a baffled look. Knowingly and with a warm twinkle in his eyes he continued. “They are born in the clouds high above our heads. Wondering what it’s like down here. We must look like little ants from up above.” Again a deep chuckle. “So they wonder and admire us from afar until they fall. They cover fields, meadows, streets, cars, and people. They turn our grey everyday life into something white and magical.” He smiled gently and you could see that he truly believed what he told you. “Look”, the old man pointed to a group of kids who were dancing happily under the falling snow. Their laughter and joy was somewhat contagious. All the adults around them who were passing by smiled and you could see love and happiness in their faces. Even their posture changed, their walk was a little lighter and the slumped shoulders were lifted. “All the joyful laughter and fond smiles are their reward. All the love going around is their gratification.” The warm and deep voice reminded you gently. You watched those kids a while longer, a small smile curled your lips to your surprise. You thought you had forgotten how to do that. “Don’t give up love yet, (Y/N). It’s Christmas after all.” At these words, you tore your gaze away from the kids and wanted to ask the man where he got your name but he was gone by the time you turned your head. In the same place, you glanced into two beautiful and oh so familiar orbs.

“Hey”, Chris huffed and the word formed a small cloud in the cold air. “Hey”, you replied with the same tenderness. You shouldn't feel so happy that he found you, but the almost dead butterflies in your stomach fluttered lightly, awoken by the huffed greeting. You bit your lip and drenched your hand, not knowing how to react and what to say. You wanted to apologize, to tell him to forget everything you said tonight but as soon as you opened your mouth you were stopped. Chris wrapped his strong arms around you and hugged you tight. With a strangled sob you closed your eyes, tears stinging in the corners. He held onto you for a long time, people passing you by complaining under their breath that you’re in the way and the snow covering the two of you like a blanket. And that was how you felt. Wrapped under a warm blanket that blocked out the world and the difficult reality. You sniffled and slowly broke apart from Chris. You couldn’t help but stare into his mesmerizing eyes, trying to read what was on his mind. He smiled at you, a warm and understanding smile. A promise to help sort out this mess. Chris rested his forehead on yours.

“So I’m making you being in love, eh?”

“Oh, don’t bring it up again!” You cringed and tried to look away but he held your gaze.

“Hear me out, (Y/N), please.” He was still so unbelievably close. His breath fanned over your face, warm in the cold night air. Normally you were fine with this closeness but today it made you blush and the presumed dead butterflies buzzed happily.

“You are such a strong and independent woman. You always take what you want and you never complain about anything – except for when there is no ice cream in the fridge” You both chuckled at that but his look turned serious quickly after the small outburst.

“I knew that you thought that love wasn’t an option anymore. That Mr. Right would never show up… That a happy relationship just wasn’t in the cards for you.”

He sighed and while bringing a bit of distance between you, he cupped your face. His hands were freezing but that wasn’t the reason you shivered. His intense look made your stomach drop and your heart flutter. You never had seen him so stern and determined.

“(Y/N), I hate to tell you that, but you’re wrong. I can see that know. You always take what you want and by some weird miracle you want me.” He snorted. “I am no Mr. Right nor perfect but I am here for you, always have been always will be.”

You couldn’t trust your ears, what was Chris trying to tell you? He was in a relationship but now he was telling you that he would be what? Your Not-Mr. Right? Your head started to spin and you shifted uncomfortably in his embrace.

“But what? … I don’t understand, Chris. What about Becca?”

He released your cheeks but still hold onto your hands caressing them with his thumps.

“That wasn’t real. We both weren’t fully in it from the start. You could say she was a distraction for me as much as I was for her. I am not so strong-willed as you are, cupcake. I knew that you were done with love and so I…”

You couldn’t take it anymore, all these crazy feelings that made no sense made you act out of your way. Before you fully realized it, you crushed your lips on his, shutting him up in the best way possible.

Chris was surprised by your sudden action but it only took seconds for him to kiss you back. Now wrapping his arms tightly around you once more. You still needed to sort out your feelings and you should definitely talk about all this, preferably not in the cold but that could wait. For now all that mattered was, that you didn’t give up love after all.