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bizaar · 2 years

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Cruel Summer - Part 5

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pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history…

word count: 8k

warnings: slight bullying, cursing, jealousy

A.N.: Babysitter!reader part five! Dustin is still just a sweetheart with a crush and Eddie is just a little bit too mean.

Dustin likes to think he’s brave. He’s faced shady government agents willing to gun down children, psychotic bullies wielding knives the length of his forearm, genuine Soviet torture chambers, and literal goddamn monsters from another dimension, but High school is another beast entirely.

Nothing he’s ever experienced has scared him as much as High School does.

You’d done your best to prepare him and the rest of the Party for the culture shock, but there’s a strident difference between being told “watch out for football players” and learning exactly why you need to watch out for football players.

Mike was the first to be stuffed into a locker. It had happened in the midst of changing after gym class and he, Dustin, and Lucas had spent the better part of twenty minutes tugging on the padlock, fidgeting with the numbers, and screaming at each other about staying calm and getting him the fuck out of there before, miraculously, Max appeared with bolt cutters. Where she got them and how she knew to come to the rescue was much less important than the way Mike had blushed crimson when the door finally swung open to reveal him sitting there in his tighty-whities.

They still haven’t stopped teasing him about that.

Dustin had had the misfortune of experiencing it himself less than two weeks later, on his way from Algebra to lunch, where he’d been seized by the collar of his shirt and crammed into the nearest open locker. Why in the world people were just leaving their lockers open with psychotic jocks running rampant was beyond Dustin, but he prided himself in how he’d managed to stay calm (calmer than Mike at least) while Lucas went and found help.

You’d done your absolute best not to laugh when he’d told you about it, and you’d failed, sitting giggling hysterically and apologizing for it. Dustin couldn’t manage to stay mad about it for long, despite how maddeningly cliché it was and how Lucas had managed to avoid such torment entirely by joining the basketball team (lucky bastard).

It felt a little bit like a betrayal, considering their years of torment at the hands of jocks just like that, but at the end of the day, Dustin supposed everybody was just doing what they could to cope. He couldn’t say anything different about himself.

Sure, there’s a noticeable shift in the Party’s dynamic without Will, but things are not all bad. Dustin has the odd class with Mike and Lucas, and even Max on occasion, though she’s grown decidedly distant and a little meaner since her brother died. He doesn’t hold it against her, even though Billy was a Grade A douchebag, even without the influence of the Mindflayer.

Dustin’s teachers like him well enough, even if his classes are hard and his grades are shitty and he’s never had so much homework in his entire life. There’s no AV Club, and the guys who run the computer club are startlingly mean, which, to be fair, you had warned him about. (They’re cliquey assholes, Dustin, don’t even try it.)

But above everything else, there’s the Hellfire Club.

He cannot believe that in all the extensive planning and walkthroughs you’d put him through to prepare him for his first day at Hawkins High, you’d failed to mention there is a literal functioning D&D Club – perhaps most shocking of all, you’d failed to mention Eddie Munson entirely, which is a goddamn crime against humanity.

Eddie is, hands down, Dustin’s favorite thing about high school and he’s not even embarrassed to say it – he’s arguably obsessed with him ... but in a totally cool and mature way. Though, really, he can’t see what there is about Eddie that is not to like, despite what his reputation suggests.

Hellfire’s fearless leader is cool, and fun, and funny, and most importantly, he’s actually super nice, in contrast to what that terrifying first interaction in the lunchroom that day back in November would have led him to believe.

Dustin had had to learn very quickly not to take things like that personally, because Eddie’s not mean – except for when he’s in one of those weird moods and he gets all distant and quiet and is likely to bite your head off for looking at him wrong, but when you get him in the right mood, Eddie is actually one of the nicest, most easy-going guys at school.

He’d been the one to come to Dustin’s rescue when he’d found himself closed up in the locker at the mercy of the football players. Eddie arrived on Lucas’s heels, shaking his head and teasing only a little before producing a swiss army knife and going on about how he’d been there and much worse— “trust me” —while he fidgeted with the lock. He talked the whole time, partially because Eddie almost never stops talking, but also to try and keep Dustin calm over the course of the slow, claustrophobic minutes it took to jimmy the lock before he finally released him with a theatrical flourish and a declaration of “ta-da!”

Dustin swears he owes his undying fealty to Eddie after that.

Sure, he’s loud, boisterous, argumentative, dramatic —you would have called him eccentric— but Eddie is also in the running for Dustin’s all-time favorite person, much to Steve’s continual annoyance.

Steve, come to find out, can not stand Eddie, for reasons he also cannot presently explain. He says he doesn’t like Eddie because apparently “nobody likes Eddie,” but from Dustin’s up close and personal experience, that is just not true, and Steve’s continual insistence that “he’s a freak” is just not enough to deter Dustin.

Dustin loves Eddie, even when he's being weird and mean, and as far as he’s concerned, Steve can choke on it … respectfully of course.

“You’re just jealous that I’ve got another adult male friend.” Dustin has said more than once, each time eliciting a full-body cringe from Steve.

He always makes a show of shaking himself out like he has to try and rid himself of the sentiment like it’s gross or something.

“Ugh, stop saying that,” Steve says, though not before making a harsh sound of disgust, “Why do you have to make it so weird?”

Dustin just rolls his eyes – he’s totally jealous, and Robin agrees, which is all the more infuriating for Steve.

It’s not a competition. As has been previously established, you can have more than one best friend, so you can have more than one favorite person, right? Right.

Except when it comes to you, of course.

Steve has bizarrely asked Dustin several times what you think about his “relationship” with Eddie (now who’s making it weird?) and it always leaves Dustin scratching his head.

Of course, he tells him the truth: he hasn’t told you yet.

That answer always garners the same maddeningly cryptic response from Steve.

“Hiding it is just gonna make it worse.” He says, tut-tutting and shaking his head, and Dustin cannot for the life of him fathom what that could possibly mean.

Dustin isn’t hiding anything from you, it just hasn’t come up naturally. As far as he knows, you don’t even know Eddie, considering how you hadn’t mentioned him or Hellfire in all your hours and hours of extensive sessions of doomsday prep. Not that he’s complaining, Dustin longs for those days in Mike’s basement, spending the last waning days of summer huddled up to your side while you poured over the map of Hawkins High you’d put together.

He’d barely been listening, thoughts going wild with a hundred different other things at once. He wanted to know how you were doing, if you missed your parents or living across the street (if you missed babysitting, because he missed you more than anything, probably even more than he missed Will but only secretly), where you got that new perfume you’d started wearing– then you’d jabbed him hard in the side with the point of your finger.

“Dustin – are you even listening to me?”

You were giving him that stern look you always got when you were being super serious, your “Dungeon Master” look, as he’d started to think of it after the session you’d put together for his birthday the year before.

“Yes,” He lied.

You narrowed your eyes.

“…What did I just say?”

Dustin swallowed hard because, with the way you were looking at him, he would not have been able to muster that information at that moment if his life depended on it, even if he had been listening.

Despite what he’d always imagined would happen when you and your shit-heel boyfriend finally broke up, Dustin almost never sees you anymore since you started your job and moved into your apartment in town. It was a lot of change all at once, and suddenly he only ever sees you in brief intervals, moments stolen between your busy schedules and your weekly standing dinner invitation on Wednesday nights, and he hates it, with every fiber of his being.

Dustin almost prefers the days when the most he had to worry about was whether or not you were going to ditch him to hang out with your boyfriend, at least there was some guarantee that he was going to see you then. His time with you now is precious and fleeting and he’s not willing to waste it sitting and gushing about his new friend like some teen girl with a crush (shades of the way you’d talked about your stupid ex-boyfriend in those insufferable early days.)

Even so, it’s driving him a little crazy. It had been easy not to tell you about Eleven and the Upsidedown, because that had been for your own good – but Dustin tells you everything, about everyone. He’d even told you about Suzy — in some boyish attempt to make you jealous, sure, and you’d been nothing but happy for him, frustratingly — because he was just excited to share his life with you. If the moment was right, Dustin would have told you everything about Eddie, how nice and cool and fun and funny he is – you would love Eddie, Dustin knows that for certain.

Now if only he could find time to get the two of you together.

Hellfire Club meets on Fridays in the drama room, which is not an issue until the drama club (who apparently also meets on Fridays) actually wants to use the room. They are preparing to put on the Spring play, and it has left the club without a place to meet.

To his credit, Eddie tries reasoning with the drama teacher to no avail, as she is no fan of his – there is a story there involving Eddie and someone else, one that Gareth is happy to tell, but Eddie returns and the room goes weirdly silent before Dustin can find out what happened there.

He’s noticed that happens a lot.

Jeff and Gareth have a lot of stories to tell, particularly about this mystery person, but only when Eddie is conspicuously absent from the room, and even then only in hushed whispers. There is a very real sense of a missing presence there in the club, and Dustin can’t quite put his finger on it, only that it feels almost exactly like the void Will left in the party when he moved away.

He wonders who it is Eddie and the club is missing, and what he can do to try and help fill that gap.

Finding a substitute location for the sessions seems like a good place to start.

Dustin makes the ride from school to the diner in minutes flat, throwing down his bike and bursting through the door without even taking the time to catch his breath.

It’s a mistake, and he’s sweating profusely by the time he gets inside, his sneakers squeaking obnoxiously against the cracked linoleum.

He finds you sitting in a booth with a man Dustin has never seen before. He’s older, balding, fairly scruffy looking with watery piercing blue eyes, and the both of you are staring as Dustin doubles over with the effort of gasping for breath. Hands braced on his knees, he swallows hard in an attempt to keep from vomiting and gives you a halfhearted wave.

You smirk at him and turn back to the man.

“’Scuse me,” Dustin hears you say as you push up from the booth, “I’ve gotta go see about my son,”

Dustin hates it when you call him that. It makes him feel a little too weird, especially considering the way you’d freaked out the one time he’d accidentally called you “Mom”.

The man double-takes comically, his head whipping around with enough force that Dustin would not have been surprised to see it spin all the way back around again. He doesn’t hear what the man says, but it's enough to stop you momentarily.

You glance between Dustin and the man and then raise your eyebrows mischievously as you gather the mug and coffee pot from the table.

“What, you don’t see the resemblance?”

The joke, if that’s what it is supposed to be, doesn’t land until after you’ve sauntered away.

“Very funny.” The man says flatly, standing and gathering his things – hat, jacket, wallet, keys.

Dustin is only halfway recovered from the ride as the man makes his way to the door – he stops before pushing through.

Your attention already turned to Dustin. You wink at him and jerk your head, beckoning him to follow you. The man watches you go, his craggy features furrowed like he’s seriously considering something.

“You want me to say you said hello?” The man asks.

“Bye Wayne,” you call in a sing-song voice like you can’t be bothered to answer his question.

The man exchanges a look with Dustin and for a moment they stare at each other.

“Should I tell him?” He asks, strangely.

For lack of anything better to say or do, Dustin shrugs – he doesn’t know what kind of a response he expected from him, he doesn’t even know what they’re talking about.

“…Alright then,” The man says, pulling the worn baseball cap down over his head. He calls out to you as he heads through the door, “See you around, Kiddo.”

Dustin watches him go out to a beat-up old pickup truck out in the lot before turning and following you to the counter. What a weird interaction…

“Who was that?” He asks, hopping up onto one of the stools as you circle around and replace the half-empty coffee pot on the burner.

“Wayne.” You say, matter-of-factly like it is supposed to clear everything up.

Dustin scrunches his features and tries to remember if he’s ever heard you mention someone by that name. Maybe an uncle or a family friend?

Wordlessly and without prompting, you put a glass of water on the counter in front of Dustin and all thoughts of Wayne disappear from his mind. He snatches it up and downs it in one gulp, nearly choking.

The corners of your mouth quirk with amusement as you go about the menial tasks of what Dustin assumes is a very boring job.

“You want a snack?” You ask, wiping the counter with a dingy dish rag.

Dustin wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Actually, I wanted to ask if we could play D&D here tomorrow?”

The question piques your interest enough to stop your puttering behind the counter. You narrow your eyes and lean over your elbows in front of him, tilting your head in a maddeningly coquettish way.

“You, Mike, and Lucas?”

Dustin shakes his head and tries to ignore how he’s started sweating again.

“No, I’m in this D&D club at school and we usually play in the drama room but they’re putting on a play or something so now we need a place to –”

This time it’s your turn to choke.

“You joined the Hellfire Club?” you splutter, recoiling ever so slightly like something had jumped up and tried to bite you.

It kills the words in Dustin’s mouth and suddenly he can feel himself gawping at you.

“You know about Hellfire?”

Your face goes steely and you stare at him like it’s the most ridiculous thing anyone has ever said. Dustin wonders briefly how you ever got so far off the page from one another.

“Of course I know about Hellfire.” you snap, sounding weirdly defensive. “What have I told you about making assumptions about women’s interests? Don’t be so sexist, Dustin.”

You snatch the empty glass from the counter in front of him and stash it below.

Dustin throws up his hands in something a little less than outrage.

“Well, Jesus Christ, you could have mentioned—”

“Language.”

Once a babysitter, always a babysitter… how is he ever supposed to get you to take him seriously when you won’t even let him curse?

Dustin breathes out hard through his nose and reminds himself he’s there to ask you a favor, and picking a fight will get him nowhere.

“Sorry sorry, I know — anyway, can we come play? I know it’s kind of short notice but we’re heading towards this really important session and we don’t want to throw off our flow, and I know this place never gets super busy so…”

Dustin trails off when he notices how your brows have come together. You turn sharply on your heel without a word and move down to go and speak to someone else sitting at the other end of the counter.

He watches you closely as you pour coffee, and make like you’re going to come back, stopping short and twisting around several times, like you aren’t sure exactly where you’re meant to be going, before making your way back to him. You’re looking suddenly very manic, shades of the weirdness that had gripped you after you and your stupid boyfriend broke up.

He doesn’t quite know what to make of it.

You brace your hands on the countertop and lean over them in a gesture that suddenly reminds Dustin very much of Eddie. Worse even, it reminds him of Eddie when he’s in one of his moods and he braces himself, half expecting you to say something just a little too mean for no reason in particular.

You don’t, thank God, electing instead to chew the inside of your lip and dig your nail into a groove in the resin countertop.

All Dustin can do is sit and wait for you to speak for what feels like a very long time.

“The Hellfire guys wanna come play here?” You finally ask, leveling him with an incredulous look.

He shrugs and begins twisting nervously at his fingers. He can’t help but feel a rejection hanging in the air between you, and he really, really wants this win. To impress Eddie and the Hellfire guys, sure, but also to try and manufacture something like the good old days with you.

Is it so wrong just to want to play D&D and hang out with his favorite people? Evidently so, if the universe has anything to say about it.

“Well, not exactly, I was gonna ask you first.” Dustin says, suddenly feeling very sheepish and dropping his tone of voice to a low mumble as he continues, “And I thought maybe if you weren’t too busy you’d want to sit in with us after your shift was over… you could play Lady Midnight…?”

You stare at him just a moment too long, like you’re waiting out the tide as the words wash over you. The sigh you heave is heavy with the weight of the world. You press your palm to your forehead, shaking your head ever so slightly as you echo him.

“Lady Midnight…” you mumble, letting your eyes slide shut.

Lady Midnight was your D&D character, or rather she was the NPC you always played when you had to step into the Party’s sessions and the role you’d affected as the Dungeon Master for his twelfth birthday. Purveyor of Secrets and Forbidden Knowledge…

Dustin doesn’t understand the reaction, considering you've never had an issue with Lady Midnight before, but he doesn’t understand the way you react to most things these days.

You’ve become so erratic since your breakup…

For the briefest of moments, your face twists up into that devastated look Dustin told himself he never wanted to see on you again and it makes his insides go tight. It’s gone as soon as it appears, and you swing hard into annoyance, much to his chagrin.

You cross your arms over your chest and shake your head again.

“I don’t know, Dusty…”

Before he can stop himself, Dustin has clapped his hands together, leaning over the counter on his elbows and begging. Literally begging.

“Please? You don’t have to play if you don’t want to. I promise we won’t get too rowdy, I’ll make sure everyone is on their best behavior, we’ll stay in our booth and keep the volume to a minimum. We won’t cause any trouble, we won’t bother anyone, I swear – we’re just gonna play for a few hours and as soon as we’re done we’ll go.”

He makes a show of dusting off his hands and then shows you his palms like it’s going to help his case. You stare at him with a look he can’t quite place and Dustin hopes you don’t realize it’s a move he’s stolen from Steve.

Ladies love it when a guy talks with his hands… he’d said. Thus far you seem unimpressed.

Dustin watches you chew your bottom lip like you have to really seriously consider it, and it makes him nervous.

You’ve got a strange, faraway look in your eye, something closer to nervousness than he would have expected to see. He expected annoyance, sure, delight? Maybe. But nerves? This is entirely too weird — weird like when Eddie gets a very similar far-away look on his face and stalks off in the middle of a sentence or the way Jeff and Gareth stop telling a story when he enters the room.

Dustin can’t help but get the sense that there is a huge missing piece of the puzzle he isn’t seeing.

“Who would be coming?” You ask, picking at your nail beds.

He allows himself to hope, perhaps a little too much.

“Probably just all the regular crew,” Dustin says quickly.

You blanch, and then it’s your turn to gawp.

“All of them?”

He doesn’t know enough about what you know about Hellfire to understand what your definition of “all of them” means. There are only a handful of them in the club this year, five plus Eddie more often than not, but somehow Dustin doesn’t get the feeling that it’s numbers you’re worried about.

“Well, maybe not Lucas, he’s been missing a lot of sessions since he joined basketball…”

The silence that blooms between you is deafening. You’ve got your hands on your hips now, and you have completely failed to mask the distressed look that has taken residence over your face. Dustin is half inclined to take it back, tell you to forget the whole thing, but before he can let you off the hook, you gesture vaguely.

“… I mean, if you guys are really that desperate for a place to play… I guess it’s fine.”

Your tone is ever so slightly tinged with something. Defeat maybe? He can’t quite be sure but he doesn’t have time to unpack it, because you’d said it was fine and miraculously he has his win.

Dustin’s heart leaps into his throat and he forgets any thoughts of your previous leeriness as he punches the air triumphantly.

“Yes!” He shouts, startling the other customer sitting at the far end of the counter. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

He seizes your hands and— in a shocking turn of events —plants a big wet kiss on your knuckles. It startles him just about as much as it does you, and he is sure he must be bright red for how deeply he can feel himself flush.

You’re laughing, to your credit, pulling your hand back and admonishing him for how gross it is that he’d slobbered all over you as you wipe the kiss off on your apron.

Dustin can’t make himself care about how he expects to explain that away. He’s over the moon.

+++

“Absolutely not.” Eddie snaps, and Dustin’s heart sinks.

Shit.

Dustin can’t tell if it’s just one of Eddie's mysterious fits of moody pique or if it’s because it’s Friday and the club still doesn’t have a place to play, despite everyone showing up in their Hellfire shirts, like a show of good faith.

Eddie had arrived at the lunch table last like he always does, and he’d made that same joke he makes every Friday:

“Uh oh, Fellas – matching shirts? That’s embarrassing. One of us is going to have to change.”

The thing about Eddie is he has approximately five jokes he continually recycles and he’s the only one who thinks they’re at all funny, but there hadn’t been the usual mirth behind the joke today. He’d delivered it almost deadpan, like he'd been forced to read from a script.

His eyes are dull and puffy, heavily shadowed with dark rings like he hadn’t slept the night before. His best attempt at a smile had been pulling his mouth into a tight horizontal line, but it pulled down into a scowl when Dustin announced where he would have them playing that night.

The rejection stings worse than he is willing to admit and Mike averts his eyes when Dustin looks to him for assistance.

Lucas is conspicuously absent, stuck on the other side of the cafeteria trying to cater to Max’s goodwill after yet another breakup, which does nothing to help Dustin’s cause.

“Why not?” He huffs, hating how whiny he sounds as he says it. “It’s a great place to play. It never gets busy, it’s got that one big booth in the corner –my friend said she’ll make sure to save it for us, and she’ll probably hook us up with fries and drinks?”

Again, Dustin looks to Mike for help. This time, he shrugs his boney shoulders, though he makes a concerted effort to keep his head down and his eyes fixed firmly on his lunch.

Eddie is staring at him in that poisonous way, like he’s daring Mike to say something — anything — and Dustin knows for a fact that it’s making him very nervous. Mike has whined extensively about how he doesn’t think Eddie likes him, and nobody has any idea what he could have done to get on the wrong foot with their Dungeon Master. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that, being the Party’s resident DM, Mike has a terrible habit of arguing with Eddie when it comes to decision-making (but of course, Dustin would never say that to Mike’s face, and they certainly didn’t get into a stupid fight about it last week when he told him.)

“Right, Mike? Free food?” Dustin presses, jabbing his friend hard in the ribs with his elbow and saying the words very loud and very slow, to try and drive the point home.

Mike shoves him, but he agrees all the same.

“…Or a discount at least.” He mumbles.

The lunch table rumbles with a murmur of affirming voices as the club considers it. Nothing drives the opinions of teenage boys and young men quite like the possibility of being fed without having to pay.

Free food is the olive branch that would save the planet someday.

Eddie, unfortunately, is unrelenting. He’s sitting with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, hands curled so tightly into fists that his knuckles are going white. He’s shaking his head over and over, rejecting every point Dustin makes to try and sway him in the direction of the diner.

He absolutely, positively refuses to play at the diner formerly known as Benny’s.

It sets Dustin’s teeth on edge with frustration, and he resists the urge to tell Eddie he’s being stubborn.

Finally, the Dungeon Master throws up his hands.

“You know what? Fuck it,” He says, and for half a moment Dustin’s chest feels tight with the light of possibility, “We’ll play at my place.”

Hopes dashed to oblivion.

Son of a bitch.

Down the way, Gareth pulls a face, “I thought you said your uncle doesn’t want us playing there anymore.”

The look Eddie levels him with might have killed Gareth on the spot were he a lesser man.

He is really spitting venom today.

“Well, we’ve gotta play somewhere, unless anyone has any better ideas–”

“Benny’s Diner,” Dustin says loudly – flatly.

Eddie outright ignores him, slapping his open palms on the table, preparing to stalk off with the final word like he always does when he gets like this.

Of course, this is when Lucas decides to arrive. He’s wearing his Hellfire shirt, and his face is bright with a smile. Dustin assumes he and Max must have patched things up.

“Hey guys,” Lucas starts, “What did I–”

He has to leap back to avoid colliding with Eddie as he pushes up from the table.

He seizes Lucas around his shoulders and gives him a friendly slap on the face that is just ever so slightly too hard to be affectionate. Lucas recoils from the sensation of being struck, and Eddie holds him tightly to the spot.

“Not a thing, Sinclair, we’re meeting at my place tonight.” He says, releasing Lucas and beginning his retreat across the lunch room, “See you ‘gents at eight.”

He flips the bird — rude — and stalks off. What was it you said about people like that? Rare form.

Lucas is like a deer in headlights, turning to the table and asking “what the hell just happened” with nothing but a wide-eyed look. The club commiserates, they similarly have no idea what the hell just happened, and they tell him as much as Lucas settles into a seat alongside Jeff.

Dustin watches Eddie disappear through the double doors and clenches his jaw, burning with the injustice of the rejection.

“Sorry man,” Gareth offers, clapping him on the back, “For what it’s worth, I thought it was a good idea.”

Dustin waves away the notion and tells himself he doesn’t care.

Eddie is cool, but today he is a jerk.

He checks his watch – ten minutes left in the lunch hour – and heaves a sigh. He’s got to let you know the club won’t be descending upon the diner, and he’s dreading the conversation. Somehow he can’t shake the feeling that you’re going to be disappointed, despite the bizarre way you’d acted the day before.

Dustin gathers his things, rids himself of his lunch tray, and shuffles out of the cafeteria. He drags his feet moodily as he sifts through his pockets looking for change and makes his way towards the campus payphone.

He balances the receiver between his head and shoulder as he feeds quarters into the machine and punches in your phone number, which he’d dutifully memorized the day you’d given it to him.

It rings, and rings, and rings, and Dustin stares at the graffiti etched into the top of the metal box – give me head until I’m dead … gross. He’s starting to wonder if maybe you’ve already left for work when there is the telltale click of the receiver picking up on the other line.

“Hello?” your voice comes through, light and musical – easygoing.

At least somebody’s in a good mood today. He can’t decide if that is going to make this easier or that much harder.

“Hey.” Dustin says, positively failing to hide the disappointment in his voice, “It’s me.”

He can hear you chuckling on the other end of the line.

“What, you missed me so much you can’t wait to see me tonight? God, Dustin, you’re so clingy.”

He imagines you rolling your eyes, twirling the cord around your finger as you lean against the wall-mounted phone. He knows you’re only teasing, but Dustin can’t help the way it hurts his feelings ever so slightly.

His silence speaks for him.

“What’s wrong, Dusty?” You ask.

He heaves a dejected sigh.

“I was just calling to tell you we aren’t coming tonight.” He says, “The club shot my idea down,”

Dustin can’t exactly put his finger on why he’d decided to spare Eddie the blame, except that maybe he doesn’t want to plant any kind of seed in your mind about him. He braces himself for the disappointment, relief, whatever reaction you’re bound to respond with, but there is nothing but silence.

“Hello?”

“I’m still here,” you say softly, “Sorry bud, I kinda had a feeling that would happen…”

Dustin sighs again. He’s about to launch into the story of how the club (Eddie) wouldn’t even entertain the notion, how he’d said no before Dustin could even explain himself, but then your words sink in.

Before he can ask you what that is supposed to mean, Dustin turns and leaps damn near out of his skin as he finds who else but Eddie, standing there staring at him.

“Hey,” Eddie says.

Dustin wires his jaw shut and glares at him, but he breaks the silent treatment before he can even start to give it.

“Hi…” He mutters.

And then after a moment, there comes your voice, lilting and quizzical.

“…hey?” You say.

“No not you – hold on a second,” He says into the phone before pulling the receiver away from his face and leveling Eddie with a hard look, “What?”

Eddie’s features come together like he thinks Dustin is being rude, and Dustin tells himself he doesn’t care, despite the way his insides twist with immediate remorse.

He doesn’t want Eddie to be pissed at him, he wants him to think he’s cool and that he has good ideas.

Eddie leans against the phone and begins scratching at the chipping paint with his thumbnail.

“I just came to say I’m sorry for biting your head off,” He says, “ I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of the guys like that,”

Dustin feels his face grow hot and bristles ever so slightly.

“I wasn’t embarrassed!” He huffs, but in a totally cool and mature way and not at all whiny.

Suddenly, he can hear your voice faintly calling him from the receiver.

“Dustin? Hellooo?”

His eyes go wide and he jerks the received back to his ear, smacking himself in the face with it in doing so. Very uncool.

Eddie snorts with laughter.

“Hi, I’m sorry. I’m here.” Dustin stammers, hating the way his heart is suddenly hammering in his chest.

He thinks he might be blushing.

Eddie notices, and a slow smile begins to split his face. He leans in closer, slowly invading Dustin’s space and making him all the more nervous as he tries to listen in on the conversation.

“Who is that?” He asks. “Is that a girl?”

Why did he have to say it like that?

Dustin shakes his head, but then you’re talking again, your voice betraying his denial. Eddie narrows his eyes at him, looking very much like a cat with a mouse caught in a trap -- Dustin realizes too late that you've been speaking and he's missed everything you've just said.

“Are you still there?” You ask.

“Sorry. I’m here,” he tells you, doing his best to lean back as Eddie pushes his face right up against Dustin’s.

“Is that your girlfriend?” Eddie asks, his voice dropping to a stage whisper that is so loud Dustin is sure you must have heard him say it.

“No!” He yelps, his voice cracking loudly. He jerks away and smacks his head on the side of the phone box.

“Henderson, you dog!” Eddie hisses, shoving him playfully.

“Who are you talking to?” You ask, almost having to shout to be heard in the chaos of the moment.

The humor in your voice is faint but clearly evident.

“Nobody,” Dustin says quickly.

This time, it’s Eddie's turn to jerk back, eyebrows jumping as he makes a show of blinking at Dustin like he can’t believe the insult he’s just been dealt.

“Nobody?” he echoes, shaking his head incredulously, “Oh no — no, no, no. That won’t do. Come on. Give me the phone.”

Dustin grips the phone a little tighter and shakes his head, as Eddie extends his hand expectantly.

“Give it.”

“No.”

“What is happening over there? Dustin?”

Before Dustin can get the words out, Eddie has snatched the phone out of his hand and is grinning wickedly as he puts it up to his ear.

“Hello?” He says, stretching the word lyrically.

Dustin strains to hear you respond, but it's no use, you're lost to Eddie's ear and all he can do is stand there and watch his half of the conversation. His heart is hammering in his chest, pumping his blood to a roaring pace in his veins.

“I’m Nobody.” Eddie says, “Who are you?”

Dustin’s heart drops into his ass as Eddie’s eyes light up.

“His babysitter?” He echoes, leveling Dustin with a curious look, eyebrows leaping up to disappear beneath the curly fringe laying across his forehead. He has to bite his lip to keep from laughing and Dustin can feel himself burning. He is mortified.

“Isn’t our boy Henderson like… fourteen?” Eddie is asking you, but he’s looking at Dustin. “Hmm... little old for a babysitter, don’t you think?”

It’s just a little bit too much. A little bit too mean for not much reason at all. Dustin is about damn near ready to start pulling his hair out as grabs helplessly for the phone, resorting to tugging at the sleeve of Eddie’s jacket as he turns away to keep him at arm’s length.

Then Eddie is laughing at whatever it is you’ve said, and Dustin’s hands fly up to clamp down on his head, crushing his hat down over his hair as he is gripped in that old jealous feeling. It wells in his throat like bile and he suddenly feels like he used to when you would come over and close yourself off in another room to talk to your boyfriend on the phone.

He suddenly feels like an intruder in a situation that he’d manufactured and it is driving him insane.

“So what’s your name, Babysitter?” Eddie asks, and Dustin has to restrain himself from reaching out to throttle him for just how flirtatious he has suddenly become.

He wants to clap his hands over his ears and scream and stomp his feet and it makes Dustin feel very stupid because he’s not sure there is any way that he could do that and have Eddie think he was anywhere halfway to the realm of cool.

He can only just hear the faintest sound of your voice on the other end of the line.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” You hum, your voice buzzing –teasing and flirtatious.

No! Goddammit!!!

Eddie whips around to give Dustin a look, eyebrows jumping and dark eyes glittering as he teases just a bit too much.

“Oh, my god,” he mouths like you’d said something outrageously naughty.

Dustin thinks he might vomit – this is exactly why he’d never put much effort in trying to introduce you to Steve, being the career ladykiller that he was, but somehow it had never occurred to him that Eddie was going to try and flirt with you.

This is the worst thing that has ever happened.

“Okay, deal,” He says grinning, “I’m Eddie.”

Silence. Dustin can't hear what you say next, but he can tell your tone has changed just in the way Eddie reacts, his brows coming together and his nose scrunching ever so slightly in confusion.

“Uhm … Munson? Eddie Munson.” He says, though it sounds more like a question in the way his voice lilts up at the end like he suddenly isn’t sure it’s the right answer.

There is a very long pause then that has Dustin’s insides squirming. He is desperate to get the phone back, but he is equally as confused about what is happening as Eddie gives him a strange look. He’s only half smiling like things are suddenly not as funny as they were a moment ago. For a brief moment, Dustin forgets to breathe.

Silence, a hard click, and then the drone of the dial tone. Dustin’s heart leaps into his throat and Eddie pulls the phone away from his ear and looks at the receiver like it has personally wronged him, like he cannot believe what just happened.

“I think your friend hung up on me.” He says slowly, putting the phone back into the cradle with a hard clunk.

Dustin swallows to try and bite back the tiny, nagging sense of schadenfreude brimming in him because thank God that it had ended before it could start, but he’s also more than just a little bit mortified at your rudeness… or maybe Eddie’s? Someone was at fault here, and the only thing he’s certain of is it isn’t him.

When he was nine you’d sat him down with Alien and yet another promise to turn it off if it got too scary. It had, but he'd kept his mouth shut, so you'd let it play, and it had scared Dustin so badly that he’d walked around for weeks paranoid that he’d somehow contracted a chestburster. This feels similar to that, but instead of blatant paranoia over a fictional alien parasite, he felt like his guts were about to come rocketing out of him out of sheer anxiety.

This was not how your first meeting was supposed to go.

“Dammit, Eddie!” Dustin sighs as he goes scrounging for more change. “What did you say to her?”

All traces of light and flirty Eddie are suddenly gone as he scowls at Dustin, his bad mood returned in an instant like it had been a dark cloud looming over his head, just waiting for the right moment to descend again.

“You heard everything I said to her, man, all I did was tell her my name and she hung up on me." Eddie huffs, "Maybe she’s the one with the problem, not me,”

It’s enough to kick up a fire in his belly.

Dustin whips around, ready to bite back with some kind of a retort to defend your honor, but then he gets caught on the faintest hint of a hurt look on Eddie’s face and whatever it was he would have said fades away before it can manifest.

Another thing about Eddie, besides his mood swings and his five stupid jokes, is that he is not as tough as he seems, and people are very, very mean for reasons that Dustin doesn’t really understand.

“I guess that’s enough in this town, huh?” Eddie sighs. “Nobody wants to get a call from the Freak.”

He tries to laugh about it, but it is a joyless sound, and for the briefest of moments, Dustin watches his armor crack.

Eddie suddenly looks so sad that Dustin has to stop himself from hugging him.

“…Eddie…” he starts. “Hey, man–”

Eddie banishes the notion with a flippant wave and pretends like he doesn’t care. He’s not great at it, and Dustin suddenly can’t help but think of you standing in his living room during the summer, staring through him and lying to his face.

I’m good, you’d said, I’m really, really good. In fact, I’m great…

Eddie doesn't do so much to try and convince Dustin of something that isn't true, but the effect is the same.

“Nah, man, whatever. Don’t worry about it.” Eddie says.

It sets his teeth on edge. How was Dustin just supposed to not worry about it when it was so clearly eating Eddie alive? What is it with all his sad older friends? He thinks being an adult must be so much harder than being a teenager, what with the way both you and Eddie are always moping about, getting hit with random bouts of sadness or weird mania.

Sure, life is hard and then you die, but why does that mean that you can’t have little bursts of happiness in between?

“Listen, Eddie,” Dustin ventures after a moment, reaching out to clap Eddie on the shoulder in a way that gets caught halfway between awkward and endearing.

Eddie looks at the hand, then back up at Dustin and quirks a brow – Dustin resists the urge to snatch it right back and doubles down, squeezing Eddie’s bicep.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s not like that. She’s not mean or anything, it’s just … honestly? She’s just been really weird since she and her stupid boyfriend broke up.”

Something strange flashes across Eddie’s eyes, like something crossed between anger and pain. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and averts his gaze.

“That so?” He sniffs.

Dustin knows he’s just humoring him, because Eddie doesn’t care about some girl he doesn’t know breaking up with her jerk boyfriend over the Summer.

He doesn’t even really know why he’d said it, except that he’s desperately trying to make excuses for the weird interaction you’d just had with Eddie, the same way he’d shifted the blame from his shoulders to that of the club’s to try and save face with you.

Dustin just wants so much for you two to like each other. Too much, really.

“Yeah,” He mumbles, mirroring Eddie’s stance, “…but she’s better off, that guy was a son of a bitch,”

It’s enough to get that sad look off of his face, at least.

“Oof, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Eddie says, scrunching his features, and then his eyes light up with mischief, “Better yet, you kiss your babysitter?”

Dustin’s stomach drops out. Suddenly his mouth is very dry and he’s having a hard time swallowing.

Kiss?!

The sentiment’s effect on him does not go unnoticed and Eddie shoves him, playfully but with enough force to stagger him a step.

“That’s gross. Absolutely shameful, cliche, cheap porno garbage.” He says, laughing away all traces of the cracks in his armor, “So, what, do you love her or something?”

Dustin chokes as his heart leaps up into his throat. Adrenaline fizzes through his body and he suddenly feels like he's been caught red-handed at something.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit—

“T-that’s – I mean – it’s not–”

His pathetic stammering does nothing but feed the fire of Eddie’s delight. He is practically giddy with it, pushing and prodding and poking and teasing.

Dustin wants to tell himself that it is nothing worse than how Lucas and Mike always teased him about his gargantuan crush on you, but something about the way Eddie had spoken to you over the phone has him frozen to the spot, because Eddie is Eddie and you are you, and Dustin is just Dustin.

Just...

He doesn't think he could have formed a coherent sentence at the moment if his life depended on it.

“Ho-ly shit. Look at you blush!” Eddie shouts, seizing him by the shoulders and shaking him, “Damn, Bud, you have got it bad … So what's her name anyway? This lucky lady…?”

Your name rockets to the front of Dustin's mind, because it's always there, lingering in the wings, waiting for the slightest hint of something that reminds him of you.

He wires his jaw shut to keep from blurting it as Eddie digs his fingers into his shoulders to try and pry it out of him.

Like an act of divine intervention, the bell begins to ring, a harsh screeching din that pierces the air and signifies the end of the lunch hour.

Thank you GOD.

Dustin uses it as his excuse to make a speedy exit and usher this excruciating conversation into its final moments.

“Ah, shit. That’s the bell.” Obviously, He shrugs like there's nothing to be done about it, “Well, I gotta go to Spanish, see ya!”

Dustin turns on his heel and dashes down the hall, hoping for a quick escape, and he tries to ignore Eddie shouting after him and everyone turning to stare.

“You better watch that mouth, your babysitter wouldn’t want you cursing like that!” Eddie calls, and when Dustin doesn’t answer, he raises his voice, “Really! You’re just gonna leave?”

“Yep– I’ll see you tonight!”

“Hey… Dustin, come on–!”

Dustin throws up a hand to wave but makes no moves to slow down, as desperate as he is to get away from this conversation despite how he despises his next class. Nobody is going to tease him about babysitters or kisses en español… he hopes…

Besos, that’s how you say it in Spanish…

Dustin is blushing so furiously he feels like his ears are about to catch fire, and he tries not to think about the way you’d giggled when you spoke to Eddie on the phone because it reminds him so much of the way you’d acted about your stupid (ex)boyfriend it makes Dustin want to scream.

He tells himself he just has to get through the rest of the day. Tonight, he'll go to Eddie's, play D&D, and do his best to forget any of the last ten minutes just took place.

He's fine. He's going to go to class and he's not going to get caught thinking about all that garbage Eddie had said about kisses and he's going to be fine.

Taglist: @harrys-tittie @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @itsrainingbisexualfrogs @thicksexxualtension @ganseysgff @scoopsr0bin @peanutbutter-y-jams @audhd-dragonaut @clilxlx @alexandriaemily20 @averagestudent03 @but-vanessa @cosmictime45 @timelordfreya @forever-war

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #cruel summer #stranger things fic #ooooh boy kids we're getting there #cruel summer fic

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bearchived · 2 years

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no , he won’t say it . . . but yes , he does resent ted a little bit for uprooting their lives n accepting the job in london.

#beard packed up his entire life in like three days. he spent hours learning about a sport he had no clue abt #spent so long learning about the players and their histories and everything about the club . . . in three days #ted made the decision on an impulse due to his separation and beard just had to go. ok.#:/#dont tell ted tho #he'd be mad at himself if he knew #and beard doesn't want that #but yeah ! the move to london gave beard so many complicated feelings tbh.#so yeah. he met jane almost immediately. threw himself into clubs and parties and whatever.#this is his life and home now why not make the most of it #〈 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝙲. 〉 - 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠. - 〈 ooc. 〉

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dustedmagazine · 3 years

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Dust, Volume 7, Number 8

Big Thief

Our August collection of short reviews contains more big names than usual with singles from Big Thief and Dry Cleaning, a digital compilation from Thou, live music from Obits and a side project from members of the Bats and the Clean. Never fear, there are obscurities as well, including an improv guitar player even Bill Meyer had hardly heard of, a Norwegian emo artist in love with Texas and a death metal outfit verging into psychedelia. Our writers, this time including Tim Clarke, Bill Meyer, Jennifer Kelly, Ian Mathers, Chris Liberato and Jonathan Shaw, like what they like, big or small, hyped or unknown. We hope you’ll like some of it, too.

Marc Barreca — The Sleeper Awakes (Scissor Tail)

The Sleeper Wakes by Marc Barreca

Odd connections abound here. One might not expect the usually acoustic-oriented Scissor Tail Recordings to make a vinyl reissue of an electronic ambient music cassette from 1986, any more than one would expect its maker to currently earn his crust as a bankruptcy judge. So, let’s just shed those expectations and get to listening. Unlike so many lower profile electronic recordings from the 1980s, which seemed targeted for a space next to the cash register of a new age bookstore, this album offers a profusion of mysteries that compound the closer you listen to them. It’s not at all obvious what sounds Barreca fed into his Akai sampler. Japanese folk music? Church chimes? A log drum jam? Tugboat engines? One hears hints of such sounds, but they’ve been warped and dredged in a thin coat of murk, so that the predominant experience is one of feeling like you’re dreaming, even if your eyes are wide open.

Bill Meyer

Big Thief — “Little Things” / “Sparrow” (4AD)

Little Things/Sparrow by Big Thief

Who knows how much more music Big Thief might have released in the last 18 months if the pandemic hadn’t tripped them up? Given the creative momentum generated by 2019’s UFOF and Two Hands, it’s fair to assume the band have plenty of music waiting in the wings. “Little Things” and “Sparrow” arrive with no sign of a new album on the horizon, so are probably being released to promote Big Thief’s upcoming US and European tour. Both songs clock in at around five minutes and handle musical repetition in different satisfying ways. Reminiscent of Fleetwood Mac’s “Everything,” but hyped up on caffeine, “Little Things” feels like an exciting new direction for the band. It cycles through its whirlpooling, modulated acoustic guitar over and over, the frantic little sequence of chords never changing; the interest comes from the ways in which the rest of the instruments bob and weave in the ever-shifting, psychedelic mix. “Sparrow” is a more traditional Big Thief song, sparse and sad. Its melancholic sway is enlivened by some beautiful wavering vocal harmonies as Adrianne Lenker paints a picture of a Garden of Eden populated by sparrows, owls and eagles, culminating in Adam blaming Eve for humankind’s fall from grace.

Tim Clarke

Simão Costa — Beat Without Byte: (Un)Learning Machine (Cipsela)

Beat With Out Byte by Simão Costa

Piano preparation often makes use of modest resources — bolts and combs, strings or maybe just a raincoat tossed into the instrument’s innards. By contrast, Simão Costa’s set-up looks like took all of the entries in a robotics assembly competition and set them to work agitating a snarl of cables that met the pirated telecommunication requirements for an especially crowded favela. But whether it’s twitching motors or Costa’s own hands doing the work, the sounds that come out of his sound remarkably rich and cohesive. He stirs drifting hums, metallic sonorities, and stomping rhythms into a bracingly immediate sonic onslaught.

Bill Meyer

Cots — Disturbing Body (Boiled)

Disturbing Body by Cots

Disturbing Body is the low-key debut album by Montreal-based musician Steph Yates, who enlisted Sandro Perri to produce. Where the songs are pared back to mostly just vocals and peppy major-seventh chords on nylon-string guitar — such as “Bitter Part of the Fruit” and “Midnight at the Station” — comparisons with bossa-nova classics such as “The Girl From Ipanema” inevitably arise. Where the tempo is slower, the chord voicings are less sun-dappled, and Perri’s arrangements call upon a wider palette of instrumental colors, the songs venture into more interesting terrain, calling to mind a less haunted Broadcast. There’s an eerie sway to the opening title track, backed by rich piano chords and clattering cymbal textures. Fender Rhodes and the light clack of a rhythm track give “Inertia of a Dream” an uneasy momentum. And forlorn trumpet, percussion and piano situate “Last Sip” at closing time in a forgotten jazz club. There’s something evasive yet subtly intoxicating at work here, the album’s ten songs breezing past in half an hour, leaving plenty of unanswered questions in their wake.

Tim Clarke

Dry Cleaning — “Bug Eggs” / “Tony Speaks!” (4AD)

Bug Eggs/Tony Speaks! by Dry Cleaning

A few months on from the release of their excellent debut album, New Long Leg, Dry Cleaning have put out two more songs from the same sessions, which are featured as bonus tracks on the Japanese edition. For a band whose unique appeal is mostly attributed to Florence Shaw’s surreal lyrics and deadpan delivery, it’s heartening to hear further evidence that it’s the complete cocktail of musical ingredients — Shaw plus Tom Dowse’s inventive guitar, Lewis Maynard’s satisfyingly thick bass, and Nick Buxton’s driving drums — that alchemizes into their winning sound. The verse guitar chords of “Bug Eggs” are naggingly similar to New Long Leg’s “More Big Birds,” while the instrumental chorus has a yearning feel akin to album highlight “Her Hippo.” Maynard’s bass tone on “Tony Speaks!” is absolutely filthy, swallowing up most of the mix until Dowse’s guitar bares its teeth in a swarm of squalling wah-wah, while Shaw’s lyrics muse upon the decline of heavy industry, the environment, and crisps.

Tim Clarke

Flight Mode — TX, ’98 (Sound As Language)

TX, '98 by Flight Mode

In 1998, well before he started Little Hands of Asphalt, Sjur Lyseid spent a year in Texas at the height of the emo wave, skateboarding and going to house shows and listening to the Get Up Kids. TX, ’98 is the Norwegian’s tribute to that coming of age experience, the giddy euphorias of mid-teenage freedom filtered through bittersweet subsequent experience. “Sixteen” is the banger, all crunchy, twitchy exhilarating guitars and vulnerable pop tunefulness, its clangor breaking for wistful reminiscence, but “Fossil Fuel” waxes lyrical, its guitar riffs splintering into radiant shards, its lyrics capturing those youthful years when anything seems possible and also, somehow, the later recognition that perhaps it isn’t. It’s an interesting tension between the now-is-everything hedonism of adolescence and the rueful remembering of adulthood, encapsulate in a chorus that goes, “Well wait and see if there’s no more history/and just defend the present tense.”

Jennifer Kelly

Drew Gardner— S-T (Eiderdown Records)

S/T by Drew Gardner

Drew Gardner has been popping up all over lately, on Elkhorn’s snowed in acoustic jam Storm Sessions and the electrified follow-up Sun Cycle and as one of Jeffrey Alexander’s Heavy Lidders. Here, it’s just him and his guitar plus a like-minded rhythm section (that’s Ryan Jewell on drums and Garcia Peoples’ Andy Cush on bass), spinning off dreamy, folk-into-interstellar-journeys like “Calyx” and “Kelp Highway.” Gardner puts some muscle into some of his grooves, running close to Chris Forsyth’s wide-angle electric boogie in “Bird Food.” “The Road to Eastern Garden,” though, is pure limpid transcendence, Buddhist monastery bells jangling as Gardner’s warm, inquiring melodic line intersects with rubbery bends on bass. Give this one a little time to sit, but don’t miss it.

Jennifer Kelly

Hearth — Melt (Clean Feed)

Melt by Hearth

This pan-European quartet’s name suggests domesticity, but the fact that none of its members lives in the country of their birth probably says more about the breadth of their music. The closest geographic point of reference for the sounds that pianist Kaja Draksler, trumpeter Susana Santos Silva, and saxophonists Ada Rave and Mette Rasmussen’s make together would be Chicago’s south side. Their dynamic blend of angular structures, extended instrumental techniques, and obscurely theatrical enactments brings to mind the Art Ensemble of Chicago, even though the sounds on this concert-length recording rarely echo the AEC’s. But it is similarly charged with mystery and collective identity.

Bill Meyer

Klaus Lang / Konus Quartett — Drei Allmenden (Cubus)

youtube

Drei Allmenden (translation: Three Commons) treats the act of commission as an opportunity to create common cause. For composer and keyboardist Klaus Lang, this is a chance to push back against a long trend of separation and stratification, with musicians bound to realize the composer’s whim, no matter the cost. Invoking works from the 16th century, he penned something simple, flexible and open to embellishment. Then he pitched in with Konus Quartett, a Swiss saxophone ensemble, to get the job done. The three-part piece, which lasts 43 sublime minutes, amply rewards the submersion of ego. Lang’s slowly morphing harmonium drones and Konus’ long reed tones sound like one instrument, enriched by tendrils of sound that rise up and then sink back into the music’s body.

Bill Meyer

Lynch, Moore, Riley — Secant / Tangent (dx/dy)

Secant | Tangent by Sue Lynch, N.O. Moore, Crystabel Riley

Electric guitarist N.O. Moore is barely known in these parts. I’ve only heard him on one album with Eddie Prévost a couple years back, and the other two musicians, not at all. But on the strength of this robust performance, which was recorded at London’s Icklectick venue, it would be a loss to keep it that way. They combine acoustic sounds with electronics, courtesy of guitar effects and amplification, in an exceedingly natural fashion. Each musician also gets into the other’s business in ways that correspond to the one spicy suggestion made by one cook that elevates another’s dish to the next level. Susan Lynch’s clarinet and flute compliment Moore’s radiophonic/feedback sounds like two flashes of lightning illuminating the same dark cloud, and her vigorously pecking saxophone attack mixes with Crystabel’s cascading beats like idiosyncratically tuned drums. This is one of the first albums to be released on Moore’s dx/dy label; keep your eye out for more.

Bill Meyer

Maco Sica / Hamid Drake Tatsu Aoki & Thymme Jones—Ourania (Feeding Tube)

OURANIA by Mako Sica / Hamid Drake featuring Tatsu Aoki & Thymme Jones

Ourania is named for the muse associated with astronomy in Greek mythology, and the album has an aim for the stars quality. In 2020, Chicago’s Mako Sica lost not only the chance to play concerts, but one third of its number. Core members Brent Fuscaldo (electric bass, voice, harmonica, percussion) and Przemyslaw Krys Drazek (electric trumpet, electric guitar, mandolin) could have just hunkered down with their respective TV sets. Instead, they booked themselves three other musicians who make rising above circumstances a core practice. The duo convened at Electrical Audio with Hamid Drake (drums, percussion, Tatsu Aoki (upright bass, shamisen), and Thymme Jones (piano, organ, balloon, trumpet, voice, recorder, percussion), rolled tape for a couple hours, and walked out with this album. The 85 minute-long recording (edited to about half that length on vinyl, but the LP comes with a download card) exudes a vibe of calm, even beatitude, with twin trumpets and Fuscaldo’s echo-laden, nearly word-free vocals weaving though a sequence of patient grooves like migrational birds on the glide.

Bill Meyer

Mar Caribe — Hymn of the Mar Caribe (Mar Caribe)

Hymn of the Mar Caribe b/w Rondo for Unemployment by mar caribe

Some musicians burn to make something new; others generate attention-getting sounds designed to maximize the potential of their other earning activities; and others, well, they just want you to sway along with their version of the good sounds. Mar Caribe falls into that last category. This Chicago-based instrumental ensemble has spent most of the last decade maintaining a robust performance schedule, and it would seem that recording is pretty much an afterthought; a photo of the test pressing for this 7” was posted in May 2019, but the release show didn’t happen until August 2021. Sure, COVID can be blamed for part of the delay, but one suspects that mostly, these guys just want to play, and they didn’t bother to stuff the singles in the sleeves until they knew when they’d next be leaning over a merch table. The titular suspends anthemic brass and pedal steel over a swinging double bass cadence, and if there was a moment during the night when the band invited the audience to pledge allegiance to their favorite drink, this is what they’d be playing while they asked. Guitars lead on the flip side, whose busy twists and turns belie the implied laziness of the title, “Rondo For Unemployment.”

Bill Meyer

Mint Julep — In a Deep and Dreamless Sleep (Western Vinyl)

In A Deep And Dreamless Sleep by Mint Julep

These songs traverse a hazy, dreamlike space, diffusing dance beats, dream-y vocals and synth pulses into inchoate sensation that nonetheless retains enough rhythmic propulsion to keep your heart rate up. “A Rising Sun” filters jangly guitar and bass through a sizzle of static, letting tambourine thump gently somewhere off camera, as voices soothe and reassure. “Mirage” pounds a four-on-the-floor, but quietly, angelically, like a disco visited through astral projection or maybe a really rave-y iteration of heaven. There’s an ominous undercurrent to “Longshore Drift,” in its growly, sub-bass-y hum, but glittering bits of synth sprinkle over like fairy dust. This is indefinitely gorgeous stuff, ethereal but surprisingly energizing. Dance or drift, take your pick.

Jennifer Kelly

Monocot — Directions We Know (Feeding Tube)

Direction We Know by Monocot

Directions We Know is an LP of free-form freak-outs generated by an instrumental duo that includes one musician who you might expect to perpetuate such a ruckus, and one that you might not. The more likely character is drummer Jayson Gerycz, who may be known for keeping time with the Cloud Nothings, but has shown a willingness to wax colorizing in the company of Anthony Pasquarosa, Jen Powers and Matthew Rolin. The happy surprise is Rosali Middleman, whose singer-songwriter efforts have kept her guitar playing firmly in service of her songs. She doesn’t exactly abandon lyricism in Monocot, but the tunes serve as launching ramps for exuberant lunges into the realm of voltage-saturated sound. On “Ruby Throated,” the first of the record’s four extended jams, Middleman lofts rippling peals over a near-boil of drums and churning loops. By the time you get to “Multidimensional Solutions,” the last and longest track, her wah-wah-dipped streams of sound have taken on a blackened quality, as though her overheating tubes have burned every note.

Bill Meyer

Obits — Die at the Zoo (Outer Battery)

Die At The Zoo by Obits

Few aughts rock bands held more promise than Obits. The four-piece headed by Hot Snakes’ Rick Froberg and Edsel’s Sohrab Habibion emerged in 2005 with a stinging, stripped-back, blues-touched sound. Froberg’s feral snarl rode a surfy, twitchy amplified onslaught, that was, by 2012 a finely tuned machine. I caught one of the live shows following Moody, Standard and Poor at small club in Northampton the same year this was recorded (so small that I was sitting on a couch next to Froberg, oblivious, for 20 minutes before the show), and what struck me was how well the band played together. The records sound chaotic, and that was certainly there in performance, but the cuts and stops were perfect, the surfy instrumental breaks (“New August”) absolutely in tune. At the time this set was recorded in the Brisbane punk landmark known as the Zoo, the band was near the peak of its considerable powers—and regrettably near the end of its run. Die at the Zoo is reasonably well recorded, rough enough to capture the band’s raucous energy, skilled enough so you can understand the words and hear all the parts. It hits all the highlights, blistering early cuts like “Widow of My Dreams,” and “Pine On,” the blues cover “Milk Cow Blues,” and later, slightly more melodic ragers like “Everything Looks Better in the Morning” and “You Gotta Lose.” The guitar work is particularly sharp throughout, its straight-on chug breaking into fiery blues licks and surfy whammy explosions. It’s a poignant reminder of a time when American rock bands played ferocious shows halfway across the world (or anywhere) as a matter of course and a fitting eulogy for Obits.

Jennifer Kelly

A Place To Bury Strangers — Hologram (Dedstrange)

Hologram EP by A Place To Bury Strangers

A Place To Bury Strangers returns with a new rhythm section and renewed focus on the elements that made its version of revivalism the loudest if not brashest of the New York aughties. Sarah and John Fedowitz on drums and bass join Oliver Ackerman on the five track EP Hologram which is the most concise and vital APTBS release for a while. For all the criticism of copyism thrown at the band since their early days, APTBS has always been as much about Ackerman’s production skills and feel for texture as musical originality and the songs on Hologram sound fantastic at volume. Beneath the sonic onslaught of fuzz and reverb, not a brick is misplaced in this intricately constructed sonic wall. True “I Might Have” is pure Jesus & Mary Chain and “In My Hive” a Wax Trax take on Spector but Hologram is an endorphin rush of guitar driven noise bound to make one forget the world, if only for a while.

Andrew Forell

Praises — EP4 (Hand Drawn Dracula)

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Jesse Crowe’s work as Praises has been ongoing since 2014, but has shifted in tone, instrumentation and emphasis since then. While the first two EPs have more of a full, rock band feel, the third one and 2018’s full-length In This Year: Ten of Swords took things in a more electronic, sometimes industrial direction. It was an even better fit for the rest, probing creativity evident in Praises’ work, and 3/4s of the new EP4 are in a pleasingly similar vein. The echoing, ringing denunciations of “We Let Go” and “A World on Fire” are fine examples of Praises’ existing strengths, but the opening “Apples for My Love” is immediately captivating in a very different way. Gauzy and rapturous, it’s a reverie that keeps the satisfying textural detail of the other songs but turns them to different ends. It’s not something that was missing from Crowe’s work before — again, the other tracks here are also very good — but a reminder that what Praises has shown before is not the extent of what they can do.

Ian Mathers

The Sundae Painters — The First SP Single (Leather Jacket)

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“This is a supergroup, is it not?” someone asked the Sundae Painters bassist Paul Kean on social media last year, to which he responded, “Some may choose that title. We prefer superglue.” Kaye Woodward, his wife and longtime bandmate in both The Bats and Minisnap, takes the lead vocal on “Thin Air,” one of the pair of A-sides found on their new band’s debut seven-inch. From the outset, Kean’s unmistakable bass playing and Hamish Kilgour’s (The Clean/Mad Scene) drumming lock into a psychedelic march, with the other instruments weaving like kites above, vying for position on the same breeze. “You fight your way down/You fight your way up/You wait for the dust to settle,” Woodward sings. A few gentle strums cut their way through the parade, and a guitar calls out gull-like from above, before everything trails off as if something potent has just kicked in. On the flip side, “Aversion” has an old friend-like familiarity to it, soundwise (if not lengthwise) sitting somewhere between VU’s “The Gift” and “Sister Ray.” Things begin a little stand-offish, though, like you’ve interrupted a guitar pontificating to a rapt audience — it turns its head to look you over, falling momentarily silent, before picking right back up where it left off. Kilgour’s spoken vocals join the conversation, as the song builds towards a groovy kind of fever pitch. “You look a little stoned,” he says, before responding to his own observation. “Well me I’m a little bit groggy/But it ain’t too foggy/I can see some way of getting out of here.” By this point, both guitars (played by Woodward and Tall Dwarfs’ Alec Bathgate) are full-on screeching and howling, and as the song sputters to a sudden finish, our man’s left waiting for someone to buy him “a ride out the gate.”

Chris Liberato

Thou — Hightower (Self-released)

Hightower by Thou

Hightower is the latest in a string of digital compilations from Thou, most of which collect songs that have been previously released on small-batch splits, 7” records and other hyper-obscure media that briefly circulated through the metal underground. You might be tempted to pronounce that a cynical cash-grab, but Thou has posted Hightower (along with previous compilations, like Algiers, Oakland and Blessings of the Highest Order, a killer collection of Nirvana covers) on their official Bandcamp page as a name-yo’-price download. Thanks, band. Beyond convenience, Hightower has an additional, if a sort of inside-baseball, attraction. The band has re-recorded a few of its older songs with its latest, three-guitar line-up. Longtime listeners will recognize “Smoke Pigs” and “Fucking Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean,” which already sounded terrifyingly massive back in 2008 and 2007, respectively. The expanded instrumentation, new arrangements and better production give the songs even more power and depth, all the way down to the bottom of the effing ocean. Yikes. And there are a few additional touches, like K.C. Stafford’s clean vocals on “Fucking Chained…,” which provide an effective complement to Bryan Funck’s inimitably scabrous howl. Rarely has being pummeled and feeling bummed out been so vivifying.

Jonathan Shaw

Tropical Fuck Storm — Deep States (Joyful Noise)

Deep States by Tropical Fuck Storm

Fueled by exasperation as much as anger, the new album by Melbourne’s Tropical Fuck Storm rounds on the myriad ways in which the world has become a “Bumma Sanger” as leader Gareth Liddiard puts it on the eponymous song about COVID lockdown. A roiling meld of psychedelic garage garnished with elements of hip hop and electronic noise it’s close in method and mood if not sound to another Australian provocateur JG Thirwell whose Foetus project girded maximalist surfaces with rigid discipline. If the Tropical Fuck Storm sought to mirror current conditions, they succeed but lack of clarity in both production and intent makes Deep States a frustrating experience. Backing vocals from Fiona Kitschin (bass), Erica Dunn (keys and guitar) and Lauren Hammel (drums) leaven Liddiard’s blokey pronouncements and there are some good sounds and biting words but the band’s determination to overelaborate and underdevelop musical ideas makes this album seem like a lost opportunity.

Andrew Forell

Marta Warelis / Carlos “Zingaro” / Helena Espvall /Marcelo dos Reis — Turquoise Dream (JACC)

Turquoise Dream by Marta Warelis, Carlos "Zíngaro", Helena Espvall, Marcelo dos Reis

Turquoise Dream documents an example of an encounter that is a mainstay of avant-garde jazz festivals, in which out of towners mix it up locals that they may or may not know. This particular concert, which took place at the Jazz ao Centro Festival in 2019, is one such encounter that deserves to live past the night when it transpired. It featured three stringed instrument players who live in Portugal and a Polish pianist who is based in Holland. But they don’t sound like strangers at all. Violinist Zingaro, cellist Espvall, and guitarist dos Reis blend like flashes of sunlight reflecting off of waves, adding up to a sound that is bright and ever-changing. Warelis, who is equally resourceful with her head under the lid of her piano as she is at the keyboard, adding fleet but substantial responses to her hosts’ quicksilver interactions. The result is music that is resolutely abstract but closely engaged.

Bill Meyer

Wharflurch — Psychedelic Realms ov Hell (Gurgling Gore)

PSYCHEDELIC REALMS OV HELL by Wharflurch

Wharflurch is just plain fun to say — but there are at least two ways in which the name also makes sense for the band that has chosen it: it has a bilious, nauseous quality that matches the vibe of the pustulent death metal you’ll hear on Psychedelic Realms ov Hell; and if you separate the words, you can conjure a sodden, rotten wooden structure, swaying vertiginously over a marshy expanse of water, which is filled with alligators and decaying organic material. Imagine that sway, and that stink, and then imagine yourself collapsing into the viscous fluid, soon to be gator chow. Sounds like Florida, and that’s exactly from whence Wharflurch has emerged. Which also makes sense. Is Wharflurch’s music “psychedelic”? Depends on what you hear in that word. If you want to see hippies dancing ecstatically on a verdant, sun-drenched stretch of Golden Gate Park, then no. But if you have spent any time in the warped, dementedly distorted spaces that psychedelics can open (less happily perhaps, but very powerfully), then yes. Wharflurch likes to accent its meaty riffs and muscular thumps with weird flutters and electronic effects that frequently have a gastric, flatulent quality to them. The saturated and sickly pinks and greens on the album art do a pretty good job of capturing the music’s tones. So do the song titles: “Stoned Ape Apocalypse,” “Bog Body Boletus,” “Phantasmagorical Fumes.” Still game? I’m sorry. But I’ll also be standing right there next to you, on that wobbly, lurching wharf, watching the gators swim near.

Jonathan Shaw

Whisper Room — Lunokhod (Midira Records)

Lunokhod by Whisper Room

That the title of Whisper Room’s fifth album is taken from Soviet lunar rovers makes a certain sense, given how potentially frustrating it might have been for the trio to be working at such a distance. Generally their other records are recorded live, in one room, seeing Aidan Baker (guitar), Jakob Thiesen (drums) and Neil Wiernik (bass) exploring simultaneously, hitting whatever junctions of psychedelic/shoegazing/motorik sound come to them. With Baker in Berlin and travel understandably limiited, this time they recorded their parts separately, layering them together (and bringing in sound designer Scott Deathe to add the kind of pedal processing their sound engineer normally does live). The result certainly sounds as collaborative as ever, seven seamless tracks making up nearly an hour that makes the journey from the friendly, clattering percussion of “Lunokhod01” to the centrifugal ambience of “Lunokhod07” feel perfectly natural. Even though it explores just as much inner and outer space as Whisper Room ever have, there’s something very approachable about Lunokhod that makes it one of their best.

Ian Mathers

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vixeyfoxworth · 3 years

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this ain't for the best my reputation's never been worse, so you must like me for me.

we can't make any promises now can we, babe? but you can make me a drink

BASICS

Name: Victoria Grace Foxworth Nicknames/Alias: Vixey, Vix, occasionally Tori. She really hates being called Vicky and though she’s nice about it if it happens she does address it and ask if they not call her that. Face Claim: Emma Stone Age: Twenty-nine Gender/pronouns: Cis woman / she/her Sexuality: Pansexual. Vixey’s never really felt like she develops feelings based on gender, it’s always based on the human and their connection and character. Date/Place of Birth: June 6th / New York City Currently: Avonnola Occupation: Actress, previously performing on Broadway

HISTORY

Childhood/Family Life: Vixey grew up in an incredibly loving and supportive home. Her father’s a veterinarian, primarily serving exotic animals, while her mother, a veterinarian primarily serving farm and domestic animals. Her father spent a few years working around the world before her parents met and then after they met they were able to do a bit of traveling thanks to his job. From day one Vixey was taught to love and care for animals always. She was raised vegetarian, using locally sourced animal products. Growing up Vixey thought her parents may push her to pursue their dreams for her but to her surprise they were fully supportive of her little girl as she pursued choir and the theatre clubs in school. From a young age Victoria loved to perform, commanding a room when she walked in without effort, sometimes due to her striking red hair, but most of the time it came naturally thanks to her personality. Due to her parent’s jobs, and her dad eventually opening his own practice, Vixey’s always lived a very comfortable life. Though Vixey was born in New York City, her parents are both from small towns in Tennessee and made sure to expose Vixey to more than just the fast paced city life. Education: In high school Victoria was a big of a teacher’s pet. She got her undergraduate degree in theatre performance and went on to get her MFA in acting and most of the time questions if she even needs it. Accomplishments: Pursuing her dream of becoming an actress and performing on Broadway. Being nominated for a Tony Award and being nominated and winning various other drama related awards. Completing her master’s degree as that was one of the biggest headaches of her life. Regrets: Vixey isn’t very big on actively regretting things, mostly because she knows if she does she’ll dwell on things and it’ll only make her feel worse. She tends to be incredibly impulsive and can also be jealous so she doesn’t like to give herself time to think too much about actions. She certainly regrets things she’s said to people in the past, especially when she’s been upset. Secrets: tbd.

PERSONALITY

Positives/Virtues/Skills: She’s kind, loving, empathetic, a team player, self-confident, a good listener, and very efficient when it comes to completing a task. Victoria learns fast, she’s a visual learner and loves to collaborate with others. One of her favorite things about performing on stage is that yes, it’s important to pour everything you can into your character for yourself but also for the sake of the show. Unless it’s a one woman show, you’re never truly alone on stage - and even then you’ve got a tech crew truly making you shine. Vixey’s always been very complimentary of her off stage coworkers. She’s reliable in a way but also unreliable in others. If you want someone to help you, she’s your girl, but if you want to go out on the town with someone who will stick by your side the whole night no matter what, she’s probably not because she’s been known to disappear for the night with a partner or with new friends she’s made.

Flaws/Weaknesses/Negatives: Vixey can be jealous and is often stubborn, wanting to make decisions and do things on her own terms, and it isn’t always to her benefit or the benefit of others. Though she can be patient, she tends to have a short fuse and can go off about little things, though she tries to apologize and own up to her mistakes in that regard and has gotten better. She tends to act impulsively, especially when it comes to somewhat non-life altering decisions. Vixey knows if she thinks too long about something she’ll overthink it so she tends to act without thinking. She’s working on it but it still happens.

Personality Type:

ESFP - Entertainer

Likes & Dislikes:

Vixey’s favorite color is red, she loves anything that sparkles, her music taste varies on the day, she’ll listen to almost everything. She took dance classes as a kid and kept up with them through college. She loved playing the piano as a kid and though she doesn’t play anymore she could if she had to. She loves shopping and thanks to her comfortable life has never really had to worry about treating herself every now and then. She’s not necessarily one for designer brands, unless it’s for a special event or she finds them at a discount. Vixey loved a good bargain but often comes across as materialistic thanks to her hobby. She actually doesn’t like going into designer stores, they feel more like a museum than a store to her. She likes to pick up and try things on before buying them and she doesn’t feel super comfortable doing that in those stores. She likes to be in control of a situation, she’s not necessarily bossy and she doesn’t always like to be in charge or in a leadership position but she definitely likes to be in control of her own thing. She loves plants and comfy beds and naps in the afternoon. She hates phone calls and rude comments on her instagram.

Dreams/Ambitions:

She’s already achieved her dream of becoming an actress and she only hopes to continue that. She’d love to open her own dance studio someday to help others pursue their own dreams. She figures in another life she’d work in a bookshop or library but she isn’t so sure her own need to constantly have something to do would serve her well in a job like that.

Fears:

Abandonment or being left out. As an only child Victoria had a difficult time connecting with other kids right away until her parents finally enrolled her into a preschool program. That didn’t last long, though and it wasn’t until Vixey was in school that she finally had proper interaction. She was often left out of games early on and a lot of kids made fun of her hair, saying he looked like a fire engine but eventually she just focused on the fire part. Later when she began to date she dated.. a lot, but was either left or left before she could be left.

RELATIONSHIPS

Parents: Katherine and Jeff Foxworth Siblings: Victoria is an only child. Children: None, and though she may not admit it, she wouldn’t mind having a big family someday. Spouse: n/a Current Partner: tbd Ex-Partners: tbd Friends: tbd! message me for wanted connections :) Enemies: tbd! message me for wanted connections :)

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Build: 5′6″, slender, loves to wear heels to appear taller than she is, especially around men who are taller than her. Hair Colour: Red Eye Colour: Hazel Green Distinguishing Marks: Victoria has a tattoo on her left side just under her breast, two butterflies, that she got on a whim after college.

#the devil's in the details * bio #the sparkling diamond * victoria #to be updated *

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tabloidtoc · 4 years

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OK, March 8

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Bruce Springsteen

Page 1: Big Pic -- as part of Coach's latest campaign Jennifer Lopez posed with a supersized pink version of their new Pillow Tabby purse

Page 2: Contents

Page 3: Contents

Page 4: Chris Harrison gone for good? The Bachelor host's future with the show remains uncertain after his controversial interview with Rachel Lindsay

Page 6: Since the start of his career Justin Timberlake has endured his fair share of scandals but after welcoming his second son with wife Jessica Biel over the summer and celebrating his 40th birthday, he is confessing that he feels immense guilt about the past and he won't be making the same mistakes in the future -- Justin's done some soul-searching and accepts that he's wronged a lot of people over the years with his own terrible mistakes and he says he's still a work in progress, but step one has been to stand up and admit he's hurt too many women -- in addition to a boozy night out with his Palmer costar Alisha Wainwright in 2019 and his part in the now-infamous Nipplegate incident with Janet Jackson at the 2004 Super Bowl, Justin recently came under fire again due to the documentary Framing Britney Spears which showed him exploiting his breakup from Britney Spears to help his solo career -- Justin's learned from his mistakes and has a lot more sensitivity about the impact of his actions on other people and that's the big difference between the Justin of today and his old, immature self and that self-awareness was evident in an emotional statement that he posted apologizing to both Britney and Janet for the errors in his ways -- his words drew praise from his wife Jessica who says he's come a long way as a husband, a father and more importantly, a human being

Page 7: Wendy Williams is on the prowl for a new man and he's got to be husband material and she is ready for a serious commitment -- Wendy's been staying up until all hours of the night checking out guys online and on exclusive dating apps and she wants someone age-appropriate, fun, kind, independent and of course has no history of cheating -- she's feeling very optimistic and even buying new perfume and clothes and jewelry for all the dates she hopes to have once lockdown lifts

* Texas native Matthew McConaughey is seriously considering throwing his hat in the ring to become the state's next governor -- he's been putting out feelers to see if he's got sufficient support and if enough donors are willing to write checks, he'd mount an aggressive run in 2022 -- he's already gotten the thumbs-up from his wife Camila Alves and their three kids -- at this point, he needs to see an actual path to winning because he's not interested in just making a protest statement; don't be fooled by his aw-shucks attitude, Matthew means business

* Now that Keeping Up With the Kardashians is coming to an end, the hunt is on for a new family to replace the clan and one reality pro is poised to nab the prize: Real Housewives of Beverly Hills star Lisa Rinna -- there's already been talk about Lisa picking up the torch and her family is camera ready, consisting of husband Harry Hamlin, and their daughters Delilah Hamlin who's dating Love Island's Eyal Booker and Amelia Hamlin who's dating Scott Disick

Page 8: Things keep going from bad to worse for Armie Hammer -- he was forced to drop out of his upcoming movie Shotgun Wedding with Jennifer Lopez after direct messages he allegedly sent to women in which he described himself as a cannibal and detailed disturbing sexual fantasies were leaked online -- Armie was also fired by his talent agency WME and now the disgraced star may get cut from his new film Next Goal Wins which has already been shot -- he's radioactive and everybody knows it and his completed but unreleased work is getting a second look as studios want to do damage control, and that includes another of his finished projects Death on the Nile where his part could end up on the cutting room floor -- he's a pariah now and it's hard to see how he's ever going to come back from this

* Jennifer Aniston has always had a spiritual side but these days she is taking things to a whole new plane -- Jen has surrounded herself with psychics and has been doing Goddess Circles with the same group of close friends for 30 years, but now she's taking courses to learn to heal herself and be her own guru -- BFF Courteney Cox has been a big influence and Jen's learned a lot from Courteney, who's had a long-term interest in mediums, astrologists and horoscopes, and she's trying to fuse it all together into her own brand of spirituality -- Jen's had a lot of time alone, which has only deepened her questions about the universe and how she can make the most of her life and she's determined to find the answers

* Princess Eugenie is over the moon after welcoming her first child, a baby boy with businessman husband Jack Brooksbank but now the new mom is torn about taking time out from her royal responsibilities -- Eugenie would love to take a long break from everything and focus solely on raising her son however she knows deep down how much she's needed, especially since Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are showing no signs of coming back -- as she weighs her options, Eugenie is looking to her multi-tasking cousin-in-law Duchess Kate for some inspiration because she's impressed by how Kate is able to juggle her official duties while raising three young kids

Page 10: Red Hot on the Red Carpet -- stars captivate in enchanting puff-sleeve numbers -- Bel Powley, Aubrey Plaza, Lupita Nyong'o

Page 11: Kaitlyn Dever, Lucy Boynton, Margaret Qualley

Page 12: Who Wore It Better? Hilary Swank vs. Madeline Brewer, Bella Hadid vs. Devon Windsor, Alison Brie vs. Dua Lipa

Page 14: News in Photos -- Tayshia Adams and her fiance Zac Clark felt on top of the world when the visited the Empire State Building together

Page 15: Chrissy Teigen and John Legend were inseparable while out and about in Beverly Hills, Bill Murray and NFL player Larry Fitzgerald Jr. were among the many stars to shoot their shot during a charity golf tournament in Pebble Beach, Rita Ora performing on an episode of the U.K. show Dancing on Ice in Hertfordshire

Page 16: At the Australian Open Serena Williams came out on top during the fourth round, Bachelorette alum Jordan Kimball and fiancee Christina Creedon couldn't wait until they got home to enjoy Candy Pop popcorn's new Peanut M&M's flavor from Sam's Club in Houston, Heidi Montag spent the day hitting the slopes at Lake Tahoe

Page 17: Hailey Bieber starring in Beyonce's new Ivy Park x Adidas collection

Page 18: Brody Jenner had a blast snow tubing while shooting the second season of The Hills: New Beginnings in Lake Tahoe, Avril Lavigne stepped out with her new boyfriend Mod Sun for a romantic dinner in West Hollywood

Page 20: Justin Bieber looked like he'd just hopped out of bed in a sweater and checkered fleece pants in L.A., Robin Thicke in front of a piano in L.A.

Page 21: Steve Martin doubled up on face coverings on the set of his new project Only Murders in the Building in NYC, Michelle Obama on her new show Waffles + Michi, Cardi B spoiled herself with high-end goods during a day of shopping on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills

Page 22: Brooke Burke romancing with boyfriend Scott Rigsby on Valentine's Day, Lucy Hale accessorized her look with her newest rescue pup Ethel in L.A., Jessica Lange and Susan Sarandon masked up for a snowy outing in NYC

Page 24: For Galentine's Day Vanessa Lachey snacked on macarons and sipped on wine in L.A.

Page 25: Bella Hadid alongside models Mayowa Nicholas and Heejung Park in Michael Kors' new campaign for the Spring 2021 collection, Hugh Grant stepped out for some fresh hair in London, Sofia Vergara kept it casual during a visit to a pal's house in Beverly Hills

Page 26: Inside My Home -- Katherine Heigl and Josh Kelley's Rocky Mountain retreat

Page 28: Marriage isn't easy especially during a global health crisis but for Kristen Bell and Dax Shepard divorce is not an option -- Kristen said she and Dax at the start of the pandemic were at a point in their marriage where they definitely needed a little therapy brush-up and every couple of years they're being very antagonistic towards each other and they don't want that so they go back to therapy and figure out how they can serve their team goal better and it's been incredibly helpful and even in the toughest times they always have each other's back and they're committed to being each other's biggest support systems -- while their relationship may never be perfect, they're happy and love each other and that's what matters most

Page 29: Now that Tom Brady has won his seventh Super Bowl with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, he has set his sights on the next prize: baby No. 3 with wife Gisele Bundchen -- they've been telling friends they hope to make an announcement by summer at the latest and Tom and Gisele have been super loved-up since leaving Boston and moving to Florida after the QB signed on with the Bucs and the change of scenery has worked wonders on their love life and put them in baby-making mode -- the duo, who recently bought a $17 million spread on Miami's exclusive Indian Creek Island, plan to build a luxury mansion there complete with a nursery and they hope to be all settled in when the new arrival comes -- they've never felt healthier or been happier

* Aaron Rodgers looked positively giddy when he revealed he had a fiancee, Shailene Woodley at the NFL Honors, but the QB is dreading the next step: bringing her home to meet his parents because it's no secret that Aaron's been estranged from them for years and the last thing he wants is for Shailene to get caught up in the drama -- Shailene wants Aaron to clear the air with his folks, but he's not ready to do that and he doesn't want to bring Shailene into a toxic environment

* It's only been two years since Miranda Lambert married Brendan McLoughlin but she's already itching for some alone time -- she's headed to Texas in April for her first concert in over a year and she's told Brendan he shouldn't come because it will be all work and no play but she really wants to get away from him for a while and after the pair's recent road trip together, Miranda is desperate for some space -- sometimes Miranda feels like she's living with a baby because Brendan whines and complains about life on her farm

Page 30: Kourtney Kardashian and Travis Barker's romance is heating up fast, so much so that she's practically handed over the keys to her Calabasas estate and she loves having Travis sleep over and sometimes he'll stay the whole weekend -- he gets along famously with her children and Travis has been a friend of the family for years, so the kids have pretty much known him their whole lives and they'll do fun stuff together like hiking or playing video games and Travis loves making breakfast and showing off his pancake-flipping skills --Travis is spending so much time at Kourt's place that he's moved a bunch of his stuff in to make it easier for his kids Landon and Alabama with ex Shanna Moakler to visit him there -- everyone's convinced they'll be living together full-time before you know it

* Prince Harry and Meghan Markle were met with a flurry of well-wishes after they revealed they're expecting baby No. 2 -- the couple decided to wait until Meghan was safely into her second trimester to share the news and they only told a handful of family members before the public and they wanted to cherish this secret for as long as they could -- Harry and Meghan have been nesting at their Montecito mansion and have been busy prepping the nursery and making sure it's eco-friendly with energy-efficient lighting and they're keeping it as plastic-free as possible

* Love Bites -- Clare Crawley and Dale Moss reunited, Kit Harington and Rose Leslie welcomed a baby boy, Paris Hilton and Carter Reum engaged

Page 32: Cover Story -- Bruce Springsteen's private world -- he's an open book in his songs, but here's Bruce's untold story of his struggles with depression and regret -- he still has dark thoughts from time to time but therapy and medication have helped a great deal

Page 36: Stars' Cheating Confessions -- sometimes all you can do is beg for forgiveness; these celebs have all had to plead their case -- Donny and Debbie Osmond, Jude Law and Sienna Miller, Jada Pinkett Smith and Will Smith

Page 37: David Letterman and Regina Lasko, Dean McDermott and Tori Spelling, Kevin Hart and Eniko Parrish

Page 40: Interview -- Elizabeth Olsen -- the Avengers star dishes about getting witchy again for Marvel's mind-bending WandaVision

Page 42: Golden Girls -- how these Golden Globes nominees get their award-worthy figures -- Anya Taylor-Joy, Nicole Kidman, Lily Collins

Page 43: Kaley Cuoco, Michelle Pfeiffer, Amanda Seyfried

Page 44: Aadila Dosani's vegan recipe for Chickpea and Potato Soup

Page 46: Style Week -- Ashley Graham is the new global brand ambassador for self-tanning label St. Tropez

Page 48: What's Hot Right Now -- create a naturally gorgeous, flushed look with fashion designer Jason Wu's namesake makeup collection

Page 49: Haute hippie retro jeans -- take a trip back to the '70s with Revice Denim's ultra-cool capsule, Los Angeles Lovers -- Delilah Belle Hamlin

Page 50: Flower Power -- floral prints are spring's hottest trend -- rock the pretty blooms for a fresh, boho-chic look -- Kaia Gerber

Page 52: DIY Blowout -- these foolproof finds deliver impeccable hair right at home -- Drew Barrymore

Page 54: Entertainment

Page 55: Q&A with Mary Fitzgerald of Selling Sunset

Page 58: Buzz -- after months of playing it coy, these celebs confirmed their relationships on Valentine's Day -- Scott Disick and Amelia Hamlin

Page 59: Vanessa Hudgens and Cole Tucker, Sharna Burgess and Brian Austin Green, Kourtney Kardashian and Travis Barker, Kendall Jenner and Devin Booker

Page 60: Sound Bites -- Halsey on not conforming to conventional beauty standards, Anderson Cooper on coparenting with his ex, Ashley Graham on the importance of self-care, Kate Winslet on feeling like a fish out of water in Hollywood

Page 61: Tom Holland on the plot of the next Spider-Man flick, Mila Kunis joking about keeping her family entertained during quarantine, Drew Barrymore when asked if she's ever been skinny-dipping, Madelaine Petsch on playing a teen in Clare at 16

Page 62: Horoscope -- Pisces Lupita Nyong'o turned 38 on March 1

Page 64: By the Numbers -- Riz Ahmed

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ronweasleyisourking · 5 years

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Next gen headcanons

Edward "Teddy" Remus Lupin

Nonbinary, uses he/him and they/them pronouns

Pansexual, but has mostly dated boys

Hufflepunk

Mixed bag of depression and anxiety

Tattoos and piercings everywhere. Also, a tattoo artist.

Walks with a cane due to chronic back pain

His first kiss was with his best friend, Basil Haywood-Karasu

He dated Victoire for a bit, but it didn't work out. They're better as friends

Lived in between houses for most of his life. His grandmother Andromeda and his godparents, Harry and Ginny share custody

When Andromeda began having a hard time getting around on her own, Harry and Ginny opened up their house to her happily, though this was after Teddy moved out on his own

Winifred "Winnie" Margaret Weasley-Wood

Daughter of Percy and Oliver

Bisexual

Gryffindor but almost Ravenclaw

Named after her late uncle and Grandma Molly, whose full name was Margaret, though she would never admit it

Has read every book in the restricted section, whether she was allowed to or not

Hands are constantly in motion. Does math in the air, taps fingers on surfaces, sometimes just does random stuff with her hands, has to stop herself from doing hand motions when talking, etc. Has no idea what causes it.

The shortest of all her siblings/cousins

Hosts a Qudditch Little League for her siblings/cousins

Victoire "Vic" Apolline Weasley

Bisexual

Ravenclaw

Sort of a preppy punk. Loves faux leather jackets but also loves tiaras :) completely beautiful, let's be honest

Curses in French all the time

Attended Magik N.O.U., a wizarding school in New Orleans in her 7th year, which sparked her love for travel

Learned wandless and non-verbal magic just because people thought she couldn't; the dictionary definition of "girls can be smart AND pretty"

Could totally kick Teddy Lupin's ass

Has to worst temper of anyone in her extended family. And that's really saying something

International Hit Wizard

Georgie Rhyme Jordan

Child of Lee Jordan, honorary Weasley due to his relationship with Fred prior to his Fred's death

Pansexual and Genderqueer; he/him or any pronouns

Feminist AF

Really into street art. May have graffiti-ed a few anti-Brexit and anti-Tory pieces around England, but there's no proof

Not vegetarian but has cut down on meals with meat

Was born with atrial septal defect

Megara "Meg" Rhys Weasley-Wood

Demigirl. Experiences some dysphoria but not a lot

Partially deaf due to an untreated ruptured eardrum.

Has a huge, fluffy, orange cat named Hercules

Blind enough that she has to wear coke bottle glasses.

Animal lover right to the core. Donates to any and all shelters that she knows have good practices and tries to adopt as many animals as possible from the bad ones

Loves divination. Has minor seer powers.

Has a magical disorder where smoke comes out of her hears when she gets mad.

Frederick "Freddie" Gideon Weasley II

Bisexual. In love with Taras Krum, who was in a student exchange program with Durmstrang and Hogwarts.

Suffered severely after getting hit by a bludger in his 6th year; a concussion and head trauma leading to epilepsy

Severe depression and imposter syndrome

Not much of a prankster

Bookworm

James "Jamie" Sirius Potter

Red hair + hazel eyes + freckles everywhere

Got a gold tongue piercing at fourteen and that's how he found out that he was allergic to gold

Smoked pixie dust once

Lover of poorly timed finger guns and funky socks (yes, he is bisexual, why do you ask?)

Not a professional quidditch player or auror

He runs a diner called "Lumos" that serves the best burgers in the wizarding world

Doesn't think he can do anything right

River Lee Jordan

Trans girl; lesbian

Allergic to cinnamon

Loves pranking; Dominique, Lily, Romany, and her prank their cousins all the time. They're terrifying.

Writer but she works as a herbologist assistant, waitress, and cashier at WWW on the side just to support herself

Can hear magic. It's an almost constant buzzing when she's around her family and at Hogwarts. Sometimes just needed to be alone so that she couldn't hear the buzzing.

Gwendolyn "Wendy" Lucille Weasley-Wood

Pansexual

Has a genderfluid s/o, Ari Spinnet-Bell

Very environmentalist. Tries not to be annoying about it.

Founded a Hogwarts theatre club and actually wrote a few, very very gay plays and musicals

Hosts a podcast/blog with her roommates (River, Ari & Susmita) called Witches Unstitched where they talk about anything and everything under the sun

Helped create a bunch of healing potions with all the plants she has in her greenhouse(s)

Dominique "Dom" Gabrielle Weasley

Pansexual and Aromantic

In a QPR with Lorcan Scamander, her best friend

Hates being compared to her older sister

When Lorcan got cancer and got pulled out of school, she took time off school while he was getting treatment

Shaved off all her hair when he lost his

Leader of the Pluto is a Planet society at Hogwarts

Best friend in the family is James, despite the fact that she and Arthur are in the Slytherin! Marauders together

Loves firewhiskey and menthol cigarettes (don't tell Wendy)

Illegal animagus - a white cat. Her nickname is Duchess.

Arthur "Art" Rubeus Potter

Gay + in love with Scorpius Malfoy

Dyed the tips of his hair green and silver when he was 12

Loves leather jackets, chokers, and combat boots

Has too many piercings to count, but his favorite is his deep purple nose ring. Hates the idea of a tongue ring

Trained himself in Legilimency and Occlumency

Learned Parseltongue, Mermish, and several other creature languages because "he was bored"

Knows quite a bit of dark magic, but is not a dark wizard

Had a lot of tattoos. Most were of creatures from the Black Lake, the Giant Squid taking up his entire back, and a merperson takes up his upper left arm

But over his heart is the Scorpius constellation, sketches of the four animagi are on his left hip, and on his ankle are magically fading footsteps that would eerily familiar to anyone who had looked at the Marauder’s Map

Went to a wizarding school located in the Great Barrier Reef, which offered courses for 18 - 21 year olds who had graduated from wizarding schools around the world

Loves puns, boxing, extra greasy pizza, potions, pet names, horror movies that are actually scary, singing in the shower, and his boyfriend, Scorpius Malfoy

Marine Mazoologist

Roxanne "Roxy" Fabian Weasley

Bisexual

Has been known to "experiment" with girls. In the Quidditch locker rooms. Forgets to lock doors. Oops

Her patronus is a coyote. Her happiest memory is of when her and Fred jumped of the roof of Hogwarts with their brooms. They had been trying to recreate the last scene of Pratical Magic, but like, with brooms

Loves cooking and knitting with her Grandma Molly

Studies in the strangest places. Lily once found her studying in the secret passage to Hogsmeade one night. Her brother found her sleeping in the Astronomy tower, with books strewn around her. Scorpius and Arthur once found her studying in a secret alcove (they still won’t admit to her why they had wanted to be in secret alcove in the first place)

Down to fight anyone for any reason

In love with Susmita Patil

Healer

Rosa "Rose" Bud Granger-Weasley

Lesbian

An absolute foodie

Named after a Charles Dickens character

Allergic to cats, which irks her mom and pleases her dad

President of the current Hogwarts chapter of S.P.C.W. (Society for the Promotion of Creature Welfare). Hermione has worked tirelessly in the ministry to get laws passed but even ministers can't change everything in a day

After graduating, her, Arthur, Dominique, Roxanne, Scorpius, Lorcan, and Lysander all went on a camping trip. Harry, Ron, and Hermione got really anxious about it

Loves reading trashy tabloids to call down. Circles all the stories about her family to torture her cousins with (jokingly)

It's a 50/50 shot whether she going to argue with you, and cite her sources, or if she is going to knock your teeth out

Spent her 7th year at The Salem Witches Institute in Massachusetts, a private all-girls school

Historian for wizarding history. Runs a small museum out of Grimmauld Place, which the Potters don't live in but Harry stills owns + has cleaned up a bit

Lily "Lils" Euphemia Luna Potter

Has meniere's disease

Vegetarian for medical reasons

Needs to wear glasses but never does

Gryffindor, but wanted to be in Slytherin

Will help out anyone and everyone if she can

Lived with Teddy for a bit after he moved out on his own

Asexual and Panromantic. In a polyamorous relationship with Frankie Longbottom and Estelle Huang

Had a pet snake named Besa. The snake was nearly longer than she was tall, non-poisonous, and the sweetest thing ever (at least, according to Lily)

Beat up James when he said that she "threw like a girl". She cracked one of his ribs, gave him a black eye, and broke his nose in three places. To this day, he claims that his nose is a little crooked (he was nine. she was five.)

Went to a wizarding school in the Himalayas in her 5th year, on the international student exchange program

Has very long hair that is almost always up in bun(s), braid(s) or ponytails. Has to magically shorten it for Quidditch games

Loves mysteries

Hugo "Go-Go" Cabret Granger-Weasley

Genderfluid [they/them]

Colorblind, dyslexic, and has ADHD

Dragonologist in Sweden, but almost went into wandmaking

In love with Allie Longbottom, who always painted her face Hufflepuff colors for games after Hugo got on the team

Uses medically prescribed pixie dust to help with their extreme anxiety; is careful not to take too much

Has a pet ferret that they named Star Boy

Joshua "Josh" Wilhelm Weasley-Wood

On the autistic spectrum

He takes his emotional support golden retriever, Laurel, to Hogwarts with him to help with the changing enviorment

Loves matchbox cars. Has hundreds of them. Carries one or two around with him at all times to fidget with

Loves hiking through the Forbidden Forest, with supervision from his dad, Professor Percy Weasley, or one of the other teachers, of course. All of them are willing to walk with him when they have time, but he loves hiking with his dad most

Has a hard time focusing when there's a lot of noise around him, so of course he has noise cancelling headphones

Learned how to fix up cars and bikes from his grandfather; opened up his own mechanic shop; loves riding the first motorcycle that he and his grandfather fixed up through the streets of London, especially with his girlfriend Lavi

It took him a while to overcome balance issues, but with training to be a seeker in Quidditch, and a lot of time spent taking practice drives on his bike in the fields around the Burrow, he was able to overcome them and once he did, he was on his motorcycle every chance he got

Has accomandations made for him when it comes to eating at Hogwarts, because the food can bother him sometimes

Hates when different foods on his plate touch

Romany "Romy" Charlotte Weasley-Wood

Lesbian-Oriented aroace; in a qpr with Maisie Greengrass

Is prone to accidental magic and has a bit of an anger issue that she works through with a punching bag, bring a beater on the Quidditch team, and playing drums

Her, Tessa Weasley, and Sariel Goyle formed a band called Bloody Bitchin' Babes that played underground gigs at Hogwarts parties before getting work at parties and bars

Hates all of her classes, except Transfiguration

Her plans look like the walls of detectives in murder mysteries. Photographs, post-it notes, paper ripped out of notebooks, red strings, and everything

Burnt Hufflepuff

Royal "King" Kingsley Jordan

Bigender + Bisexual; xe/xem pronouns

Loves all types of clothing but especially suits, flowery blouses, crop tops, chunky belts, scarves, and Doc Martins

Plays the piano all the time, xe even has a piano in xyr room

Gets chronic migraines, has been known to sit/lay in the dark for hours until the pain subsides. Hates taking meds for it

Never has her phone screen brightness above the lowest setting because xe hates that xyr light sensitivity may take xyr away from xyr phone, which is xyr life

Would love to travel one day

Louis "Louie" Antoine Weasley

Only has a little bit of veela charm, usually enough to get him out of minor trouble, and it isn't always permanent

Started taking in magical creatures when he was seven, when Luna gave him a suitcase like Newt Scamander's and got another one when he started adopting muggle creatures as well. He especially loves his mokes and his chickens.

He loves swimming in the Great Lake with the Giant Squid

Loves carmelized apricots, pumpkin gorgonzola flan, cinnamon roll cheesecake, molasses cookies, Bulgarian candy -specifically chocolate bars, sweet potato pancakes, and homemade butter-maple syrup

Was in a student exchange program with Beauxbatons in his 4th year and again in 6th year with the Canadian wizarding school and he loved both experiences

Tessa "Tess" Rue Weasley

Can see people's auras

An expert at potions. Began working on a cure for lycanthropy at the age of 13 and a long 17 years later, she finally accomplished it. She always says that she would have done it quicker if only she didn't have to sleep to live

Part of the potions club at Hogwarts, which is a much less snobby version of the Slug Club that actually has to so with potions talent and not just fame

With her cousin Louis's help, she was actually able to tame a baby raccoon and named him Meeko after the raccoon in Pochahantas to help her and also trained him to help her nick a few things from her cousins sometimes

Loves classic fantasy lit, especially Narnia. Tried to charm a wardrobe to take her to Narnia, and let's just say that it didn't turn out very well and that it was really hard to reverse

Shaves her head in fourth year, because she was tired of all the work it took to take care of her hair

Penelope "Penny" Elodie Weasley-Wood

Named after Penelope Clearwater, who was her father's best friend and who died in the Battle of Hogwarts

She was adopted from Ukraine and loves everything about the country. The language, the music, the art, the people...

Went on to be a dragon tamer at a Ukranian dragon reserve, which she applied to as soon as she turned 17, and when she got an offer, she took her N.E.W.T.s in her 6th year so that she could take the job immediately

At the dragon reserve, she met Norma Hawryluk, who she fell in love with and a baby Ironbelly whom she named Vera and raised. No one but she had Norma could touch Vera though, because of the dragons' extreme rage issues

Constantly stole her sibling's and cousin's clothing

Gets stuck in her head sometimes

Romulus "Rome" Wolff Jordan

Asexual and Aromantic

Has a fluffy white cat named Marigold (Royal named her)

Loves wearing a ton of rings. Like, one on each finger.

Will only eat rocky road ice cream, and no other flavor ever

Has aphantasia, or the inability to voluntarily visualize images in his mind, but can still dream, because it's involuntary

Loves to sketch a lot. Will sketch everything he sees

Loves turtlenecks; hates crocs to no end

Big windows with amazing views are his favorite thing

Genevieve "Genny" Maribel Weasley

Prone to anxiety attacks

Polyamorous lesbian, in a closed poly relationship with Noa Spinnet-Bell and Lyric Scamander

Best friends with Romulus, her cousin. She is loud and fierce, and he’s quiet and passionate, and together they’re going to take over the world two steps at a time

Figures out that technology works in the Room of Requirement and starts a tech club that meets on Wednesdays, and has movie nights on Fridays

Brought a pet pig named Prince to Hogwarts

Unofficially a freelance curse breaker, but worked as an intern at the dragon reserve in Romania with her Uncle Charlie the summer after Hogwarts. Eventually moves to South America because her girlfriend, Noa Spinnet-Bell, got recruited by their Quidditch team, Tarapoto Tree-Skimmers

They move to a farm where Genny gets her own horses!!!

Elias "Simon" Jacques Weasley

Has fibromyalgia, which makes it difficult for him to stay in Hogwarts. With the chronic joint pain, fatigue, dizziness, and difficulty with memory, it was easier for him to get privately tutored by his dad, who was the Ancient Runes professor

Severe anxiety and depression, which was most likely caused by his fibromyalgia, but there's no telling

Vegetarian for personal reasons, and had James teach him how to make vegetarian burgers and other vegetarian meals

Loves water-based magic and might have gone into the exchange program for underwater schools in the Bermudas or Oceania, but he didn't want to risk his condition

Can beat anyone at any board game. No one knows how he does it. Ron played wizard chess with him for eight hours once, but eventually gave up on ever beating him

Is the publisher of a Hogwarts exclusive magazine. Uses his older sister’s computers to work on it. Works on his novel in his spare time. Occasionally holds poetry slams by the Great Lake. Just loves writing in general

Matilda "Tilly" Honey Granger-Weasley

Has a photographic/eidetic memory

Got expelled from Hogwarts in her sixth year for using an unforgivable curse on another student who was bullying/harassing Elias, but doesn't regret it all.

Finishes up her studies at a small non-boarding wizarding school in Romania, where she lives with her Uncle Charlie and his queerplatonic partner, Barnaby, and their cat, Wick

With the help of Barnaby, dyes her hair platinum white (think Zoe Kravitz when she had white hair)

Moves to America almost as soon as she graduates

Travels the world to write about different wizarding communities for the Quibbler and for her sister's museum

A little too obsessed with Joan Jett

Loves lucid dreaming

Elliott "Ellie" Ryleigh Weasley-Wood

Genderfluid

Has narcolepsy. Tired all the time and been known to dose off during class. And meals. And conversations

Needs to wear glasses but doesn’t, because they don’t want to look like a nerd. Looks like a complete nerd when they run into shit all the time and it doesn't help that their notes are always wrong because they refuse to sit in the front of class

Witnessed a car accident on a street one day and has been able to see thestrals ever since. Hates to think about it

Loves strong tasting food. Spicy, hot, cold, salty, super sugary, bitter... down to eat anything to be honest

Became a therapist for the wizarding community

Amare "Mar" Sabra Weasley

Own a huge shaggy grey and white dog named Ollie who she took to Hogwarts with her and is her best friend

Ellie, her cousin, is her other best friend and they love building huge forts and watching Disney movies together with tons and tons of snacks. Ollie always joins

Didn’t care one bit about school. Hated studying with a passion. Barely ever showed up to class. Was in detention more than all of her siblings and cousins combined

Worked as an intern at Lee Jordan’s radio broadcasting company for a few summers and hosted her own show that was based around old music after her sixth year

Alcoholic. Can't even be around firewhiskey

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invisoviolet · 4 years

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|| Get to know VIOLET PARR who’s TWENTY-FOUR years old and works as a COMIC BOOK STORE EMPLOYEE in town. She is from CORONA and is often times mistaken for MARGARET QUALLEY while others say she reminds them of VIOLET from THE INCREDIBLES. ||

HISTORY & HEADCANONS

Violet grew up always knowing she had the power to be invisible, because it’s something her parents discovered when she was only four months old. Getting up one morning to check on their daughter, the Parrs panicked when the looked in the crib and the little girl was no longer there. Chaos reigned through the house as they tore it apart, trying to figure out where their little girl who couldn’t even crawl yet could have possibly gone. Just when the were about to call the police, sure someone had snuck into the house in the middle of the night to kidnap her, when she popped back up right in front of their eyes. If they didn’t have powers of their own they likely never would have believed it, but they simply learned that their daughter was special, just like them.

It was made very clear to her from a young age that she was never to use her powers, and while Violet was always a very well behaved child, sometimes she still liked to have some fun with it, especially when she was young. She tried using it to sneak downstairs in the middle of the night to get a midnight snack out of the fridge, or to eavesdrop on her parents when they were having an important conversation she wasn’t supposed to hear. It almost made her the ultimate hide and seek player, a title that was very important to her as a young girl.

She didn’t discover she had the power to make forcefields until much later, when she was eleven years old. She was fighting with Dash over the tv remote, and every time she would get it back to turn her show on, he would speed up to her and take the remote out of her hands before she even noticed. They’d been doing this for about twenty minutes, driving their parents absolutely crazy, when the next time Dash ran up to steal the remote, a purple glow erupted around her, forcing him to bounce back. It scared the hell out of both of them, and while Violet had absolutely no idea how she did it, she realized that her powers were more than just invisibility. She still doesn’t have a perfect handle on her forcefields and stays up late at night sometimes, concentrating hard as she tries to make them bigger and stronger. They’re getting better but Violet still isn’t satisfied, knowing she can do more.

A lot of Violet’s insecurities stem from how amazing her parents are, and her deep fear that she’ll never be able to live up to them. People literally call her father Mr. Incredible, and her mom is the coolest — not to mention the most beautiful — person she’s ever met in her life. Everyone loves them, and it keeps her up at night sometimes wondering how she can ever do anything to be as great as them. All they’ve ever done is love and support their daughter, but she’s always felt small and insignificant in their shadow. She even has a power that encourages her to hide away from the world, and she just doesn’t know how she’s supposed to argue with that.

Growing up, Violet was never picked on or bullied by the popular kids, because she did everything in her power not to give them a reason to. She wore what was in style, listened to whatever music was in the top 40, and watched the same tv shows as everyone else. She never spoke up in class, even when she new the answer, and never even told joke or said anything that might draw attention towards herself. She became a professional at blending in with the crowd, so much so that she kind of lost her own personality in the process. There’s a part of Violet that’s still trying to learn who she is, because she spent so long trying hard to be just like everybody else.

When she was in high school, Violet had a bad habit of using her invisibility to get out of conversations with people she didn’t want to talk to. If she saw someone coming towards her, whether it was a fellow classmate or a teacher, she would usually slip around the closest corner and go invisible. Sometimes if she was stuck in a conversation she couldn’t get out of, she would even take her chances and turn invisible if they turned away for a second. It worked perfectly for her up until the moment she used her invisibility to get out of a conversation with the gym teacher. After pretending to have cramps for the fourth day in a row because she did not want to play volleyball in front of the popular girls, she tried to avoid his confrontation Not believing it could have been magic, the teacher convinced himself that she got away because she was such a fast runner and asked her to try out for the track team. Not knowing how to decline, she spent one disastrous afternoon trying out for the team. She tripped over hurdles, fumbled the baton, and had some of the slowest times on record. It was the first and last time she ever tried out for a sports team. She also started using her invisibility to avoid people a lot less.

Violet looked at going away to college as a chance to reinvent herself, especially when new people started to come to the island. She wasn’t stuck with the same people she’s known all her life, the people that knew her as shy, quiet Violet that almost cried in front of the class when she had to give a presentation once and she thought some of the kids were laughing at her. At the encouragement of her parents and a few close friends, she slowly but surely started to go out of her shell. She joined a couple clubs, she actually spoke up in class when she knew the answer, she smiled and made eye contact with people when she passed them in the hall, she even went to parties when she was invited. And the craziest thing of all: she actually got asked on some dates.

As much as it seemed like Violet went through some drastic transformation, really she was just letting the world in on her little secret: that she actually knew how ot have fun. It’s something she never let anyone but her family and a few very close friends know, because she was so deeply afraid of everyone else judging her. But something about being in that new environment made her feel like she was free to be herself and she was the happiest she’d ever been. She stayed out late, had plans on the weekends, and actually had more than a handful of friends. She was even known to crack a joke or two. For those four years, Violet hardly ever felt the need to hide from the world, using her invisibility a lot less.

The first few months after graduating college, Violet was doing fine. She still kept in touch with all her friends, was still invited to all the same parties, even went out to a club or two. But then everyone started to get busy as they started their new jobs, and Violet started to get paranoid. What if they didn’t want to spend time with her anymore? What if they got into the real world and realized that she was just a fraud? So she started reverting back into her shell, reaching out less and declining a few invitations beacuse she thought she was protecting herself. Eventually some of her friends did stop reaching out, and she’s finding herself just as lonely as she was in high school. She regrets it every single day, but she’s too scared to pick up the phone and call them up.

After spending a very long time sulking at what she lost, all because she once again let her anxiety get the best of her, she’s trying to be better. In an effort to make friends again and get her confidence back up, she’s forcing herself to do one thing she would normally be too scared to do each week. Whether it’s talking to a stranger in a coffee shop, or going somewhere crowded with friends on a Friday night rather than staying home to watch tv, or even going to a restaurant and placing her order without having rehearsed it in her head at least five times so she doesn’t trip over her words and make a mistake, she has to be brave at least once a week. She’s even keeping a journal to keep track of all her adventures, just for accountability. It’s the definition of baby steps, but she really is trying her best.

You can tell what kind of mood she’s in by the way she wears her hair. On the days she feels really bad about herself and wants to hide from the world, she lets her long hair hang into her face, using it as a shield between her and the rest of the world. Even though it’s just hair, it gives her a sense of protection that she doesn’t feel like she gets any other way. On the days where she has a little bit of confidence, feeling like she can actually take on the world, she wears her hair pulled back out of her face. When she was little she had a collection of headbands she would wear, but since they went out of style around the time Gossip Girl went off the air, she’s started wearing it in either a messy bun or a half ponytail.

She kept it hidden for a lot of years, but loves comic books and superheroes. The love started after she discovered her forcefields and she was freaking out, feeling like more of a freak than ever. Bob, wanting to show her that she was special and not a freak, took her to the comic book store and they scoured the shelves until they found some old Fantastic Four comics. Violet found some comfort and a sense of empowerment reading about Invisible Woman, and the series slowly helped her come to terms with her own powers. She’s always been incredibly grateful to him for that

Growing up and watching her parents be stupidly, cheesily in love, Violet found herself being a bit of a hopeless romantic too. They were proof that true love existed and that anyone could find it, because if someone could love her dumb, cheesy dad, then someone could love her too. She used to put a lot of pressure on herself to find her high school sweetheart since that’s when her parents met, but she’s long since given up on that. She just wants to find someone that makes her happy — it’s too bad she lacks the confidence right now to actually ask anyone out.

When she was younger, books often felt like her best, and sometimes only, friends. She was able to live vicariously through the stories on the pages, seeing herself in the protagonists that were far cooler and stronger than she could ever be, imagining herself inhabiting those worlds and living out the adventures she would be too scared to go on in real life. Stories were a comfort for her, a safe haven, and for as long as she can remember she’s wanted to be an author. She wants to create exciting stories that make young girls feel strong and confident, the same way her favourite stories growing up made her feel.

She graduated from Corona University with a degree in creative writing, and while she’s working on the concept for her first book she’s working at Avengers Comics to make ends meet. She was really hoping that she would only be there for six months, a year tops until she found a job actually using her degree but she’s been there for almost two years. It’s not the worst job in the world, but it does require her to talk to other people which means that she doesn’t love it.

Lives her life deeply embarrassed of almost everything she’s ever said or done. She’s spent plenty of nights laying awake in bed remembering embarrassing things that happened over ten years ago that she just can’t let go of, even if they were so insignificant that everyone else has surely forgotten about it. Also has a really hard time dealing with secondhand embarrassment. If something awkward or embarrassing is happening around her, whether it’s in person or on a tv show or movie she’s watching, she either visibly cringes until it’s over or just gets up and walks away. It’s too much, she can’t handle it.

Can go from being sweet and quiet to angry and moody in two seconds flat. It honestly doesn’t take all that much to provoke her. But thankfully it’s only her family that really sees her at her angriest, since they’re the people she trusts the most to be herself around.

If she actually gets comfortable around you and you get her talking, it’s nearly impossible to get her to shut up. Especially if it’s something she cares about. Not only is she the queen of nervous babbling, but she spends most of the day keeping quiet and keeping her thoughts to herself, that when she’s around someone she actually trusts, all her thoughts and feelings just come pouring out.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

friends, crushes, exes, the usual stuff. literally anything.

#( ❤️ you feel alone and try to mold into the rest // about )

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welcott · 4 years

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Meet Wes

BASICS

Name: Wesley Emerson Alcott

Age: 18

Grade: Senior

House: Fenwick

Cabin Room: Cabin 1, Room 4

How long have they been at Broadripple: four years

Where are they from originally: Lorehill, MA

Extra curricular: gardening club (formerly) field hockey, drama department (set design)

TRAITS

Positive Personality Traits: sensible, utilitarian, hardworking, faithful, even-tempered

Neutral Personality Traits: simple, nature-loving, outdoorsman, quiet, athletic

Negative Personality Traits: unambitious, resentful, inhibited, judgmental

FACTS

The Alcott family has always had a strange relationship with Broadripple Academy. With roots winding back to Lorehill’s settlement, their family name holds a good deal of respect among members of the area. During Broadripple’s inception, Rebecca Alcott was a beloved nun who played an instrumental role in the Academy’s success, serving with the clergy until her passing. Although her death is long in the past, the legacy she left behind was never forgotten, paving a place for all members of the Alcott family to attend the university with limited tuition fees. It is due to this family history that Wesley is able to walk the halls of Broadripple at all, let alone afford a uniform.

Raised on the fringes of Lorehill, the Alcott’s worked as fur traders, then loggers. With the sudden decline in the logging industry, the family was pitched into poverty that lasted several generations. Wesley Alcott, in many ways, is exactly what anyone would expect from an Alcott boy. He learned how to handle a gun the moment he was able to hold one, he spent his days digging through the woods for plants, hunting with his father, and helping at the mechanic’s shop owned by his uncle.

Having grown up without much, Wesley learned to always make the best with what little he had. He developed a skill for carpentry, often working with his father to complete odd jobs for the townsfolk, repairing broken furniture, decks, and occasionally building something entirely new. He’s never been the brightest of the bunch and has little desire to be. He continues to attend Broadripple because it has always been his mother’s wish for him, but he can’t shake feeling like he doesn’t belong in a world of polished floors and stuffy classrooms. He is content to live the rest of his life in the same town the rest of his family lived and died in, one day taking up the keeping of his father’s farm.

But financial insecurity has pushed Wes away from his desires for the sake of bettering his family’s prospects. He doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life or if he’s any good at anything other than who and what he currently is, but he shoulders the responsibility of this uncertainty none-the-less. He can’t imagine himself succeeding in college or choosing an academic major, but he has been convinced that is the route he has to take in order to provide for his family. Although he often struggles in school, Wesley puts effort into everything he does. Serious and mature for his age, he has never been the type to goof around, participate in petty gossip or bully others. If anything, he keeps to himself or the small group of friends he’s collected over his time at Broadripple.

On weekends he spends most of his time at home and often returns to school with a plastic bag of venison jerky he offers to anyone he considers a friend. He helps out the drama department building sets and regularly volunteers to help the groundskeepers with any tasks they’ll allow him to participate in. A skilled field-hockey player, Wes has earned a sport’s scholarship his mother hopes will lead to similar advancements in the college sector, although this doesn’t inspire his genuine interest.

A simple person, Wes tends to take things at face value. Or at least he did until the sudden disappearance of Maggie. Having known her since childhood, Wes can’t shake the suspicion that something awful happened to her. While he may feel more at home in the cabins than he ever did in the dormitories, her absence continues to haunt him. Worry festers in his chest like a wound he can’t heal.

While he gives little heed to rumors and ghost stories, Wes fears for her wellbeing, regardless of whatever excuses the school came up with. It has made him rather protective of his fellow classmates, often looking out for them when they otherwise wouldn’t look out for themselves.

HEADCANONS

Wes knows how to play the acoustic guitar. he usually sings off key, but that won’t stop him from doing it around the campfire

definitely a dog person. he grew up around dogs for his entire life, specifically hunting dogs that helped his father track and trap prey. while the family has had several dogs throughout the years, the one Wes has bonded the most with is an English Setter named Birdie.

Wes knows his way around a car and usually has to spent decent amounts of time touching up the engine on his truck. A hand-me-down from his father, Berenice is a Ford pick-up-truck from the 1970s. She was once blue but time, wear, weather, and a few car accidents have left her scuffed up, patched together and hastily painted over. she isn’t exactly pretty to look at, but even with a white replacement door on the driver’s side, she’s very reliable.

Wes usually spends his summers doing odd jobs or working as a camp counselor at the lake a few miles out of town. due to his childhood in the area, experience hunting, camping etc. he knows the area pretty well and could easily feel comfortable wandering off and finding his way back.

Wes almost always has a small pocket knife on hand ( when he can get away with it ). he usually stuffs it in the neck of his hiking boots, using it for small repairs, cutting branches and other small tasks.

wes is actually very good at sewing and has a small, portable sewing kit he keeps in his cabin. having grown up without much money, his mother taught him the importance of maintaining the goods he already owns. if anyone ever needs a patch up, wes can have a busted seam, tear, or hem fixed in a jiffy.

his family owns horses, his grandfather and father always believing it wise to keep a few good work horses on hand in case their tractor broke down. while expensive, wes is fond of the horses and grateful he grew up knowing his way around one. His mother even managed to make a modest income giving horseback riding lessons to the kids in Lorehill and a few eager students of the Academy.

the eldest of several siblings, Wes learned responsibility from a young age and has an unconscious habit of slipping into the role of ‘caretaker’ without meaning to.

his little sister, a junior named Annie, also attends broadripple. they have a close bond, although she does get annoyed with what she calls his ‘older brothering’ her.

QUESTIONS ABOUT THE RETREAT

What do they think about The Retreat

Wes doesn’t mind the retreat. he actually feels much more at home in the cabins than he ever did in the dorms at the academy. he prefers the noises of the woods and the way the world looks so much bigger when it isn’t standing opposed to tall brick walls. he believes there truly was a locust infestation in the dorms, but remains suspicious about the disappearance of maggie. having grown up together, Wes feels deeply concerned about her disappearance and nervous about other students wandering around the woods with little to no survival knowledge ( or sense of direction ).

Do they have any previous experience with camping or other outdoors?

Y E S. Wesley has sO much experience camping it’s honestly egregious. he and his family spend a good portion of their summers in tents, cooking up cans of beans over the fire and skipping stones at the lake. Wes has gone on hiking trips, slept under the stars, and fished for his own dinner. If he ever broke his leg during a hiking accident and was left stranded in the woods, he has sufficient knowledge of how to survive in the wilderness to put himself in the best possible position to preserve his life and be rescued. he truly is That Bitch.

What does their cabin bunk look like? How will they decorate their space?

Wes’s bunk space is decorated minimally, as he keeps most of his personal items at home. Knowing his classmates might be feeling bored without access to the internet, he did bring along a couple board games from his house in the hopes that they might find enjoyment in it. Other than this, he has a few potted plants he takes care of and a home made quilt on his mattress. He would have been content to sleep in a sleeping bag but his mother insisted on getting him proper sheets and bedding.

Do they believe in the supernatural? To what degree?

No. Wesley knows all about the rumors and ghost stories but has rarely paid them any heed. he is suspicious of events going on with the school and Nighmore, especially since his family has had negative feelings towards the academy for generations, but supernatural beings were never the source of that concern. he’s the type to listen to ghost stories around the campfire, but tell people to talk about something else when it’s clear someone is getting scared.

Are they easily spooked?

Not really. Wes can be wary, especially knowing the potential dangers of the woods, but he was raised in an environment where keeping a level head is necessary. he still experiences fear, but he tends to manage it well and keep it concealed. he probably wouldn’t be the type to panic at a shadow in the woods and start running, but it would catch his attention and he’d respond accordingly.

AND FINALLY,

A very dumb but (hopefully) fun quiz made by your admins, please share what result you got

“you will sacrifice yourself for someone else.” he would tho tbh

#retreat:task1 #hcs #about

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mythsofmodern · 4 years

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Katherine “Katie” Bell

“You never know what you can expect from life until it almost shoots you out.”

Katie was born in London and lived there for the first few years of her lives. She was only five years old when they moved to Banbury. She has no siblings and is therefor an only child. Her father works at the Ministry and her mother at St. Mungo’s. The first few years her mother stayed at home with her, but when she was old enough she went back to work and the young girl was sent to the kindergarten. Her parents had doubts, then they knew their daughter, she barely could keep a secret for herself and they were worried she could tell the muggles about the Wizard Word and their secrets. Against the worries she got along with the muggle children very well and got a few friends, even if she preferred to spend her time with her cousins. Especially because she could play quidditch with them. Katie got her first broom when they moved to Banbury, gifted to her by her favorite cousin was Timothy. Although he is much older than her, he always took the time for the girl, he taught her to play quidditch. In the holidays Katie often visits him at his shop at the Diagon Alley. The girl was very excited to get her letter from Hogwarts, even though it was not a question for her family that she would get one, and immediately dragged her parents to Diagon Alley to get everything from the list.

Soon she was sitting on the train that brought her to Hogwarts. She was, of course, very excited, then she already heard so many stories from her parents and her cousin, Timothy - he graduated a year before Katie started the school. And not to forget, there was the big question, in which house she would be sorted. The Sorting Hat sent her to Gryffindor and she was happy. Katie got accepted quickly and the only thing that made her sad was, that she was not yet allowed to apply for the quidditch team and that she wasn’t allowed to bring her own broom. Katie found friends in Angelina Jones and Alicia Spinnet and they even went out to the quidditch pitch with her sometimes to play.

About the second year she was even more excited, then now she was allowed to try out for the quidditch team - and got accepted. But that was not the only exciting thing about that year, then it was the year when Harry Potter - yes, the famous Harry Potter - started his first year at Hogwarts. And he was even in the same house AND same quidditch team! She became friends with the rest of the teams too.

Katie’s third year at the school for wizards and witches was way more eventful, although not exactly in good ways. The Chamber of Secrets was opened. The students were scared - at least most of them - especially when Mrs Norris was no longer the only victim anymore. Lots of people accused Harry, but Katie had a hard time believing he could be able to do anything like that. However, she did become more careful. What happened, didn’t leave her unaffected, she felt bad for the victims, she was scared and often when she thought no one was looking, she even cried. Katie was in a bad shape. And with every victim it just got worse. When the little girl who happened to be Fred’s and George’s little sister, got kidnapped it seemed the school would close forever. It was terrible to see her friends so hurt and in pain, everything scared and confused. What were they supposed to do without Hogwarts? Fortunately at the beginning of the summers the students could go home knowing in September they would be able to come back.

Katie’s fourth year was just a little less crazy. It didn’t involve a hidden chamber and a murderous basilisk, but a murderous Death Eater - or so the whole wizarding world thought. Sirius Black escaped and it seemed he was on his way to Hogwarts. At least that explained the dementors at the school. The fact they were there for the student’s safety didn’t make Katie feel any better about them though. They were terrible and made her feel terrible. As she learned later from rumors - and these were always popular at Hogwarts - Black wanted Harry. And obviously he wanted him so bad, that even the dementors couldn’t stop him. The best thing about that year was to win the Quidditch Cup! At the end of the year Katie was glad she could leave, no more dementors! And that was not the only reason why she was excited…

… then it was the summer of the Quidditch World Cup! And of course Katie couldn’t miss that! It was very exciting and she enjoyed the celebration after the game - or at least until suddenly everything changed. Death Eaters appeared, panic raised in camp and -the worst - the Dark Mark appeared on the sky. Katie was too young, she never had to experience the feeling to come home and find the Dark Mark above your house, but even she knew what it meant. Going back to the school, Katie was excited to play quidditch again, maybe even try a few things she saw at the world cup. However soon enough she had to learn quidditch was cancelled this year. Then this year Hogwarts was about to host the Triwizard Tournament! It was very exciting that Cedric Diggory became the champion, but even more exciting that Harry became one too. Many students - especially the Slytherins - were against Harry as a champion, but Katie supported him. Besides, this was a great way to get back at the Hufflepuffs for the game they lost last year against them. The fun turned into serious matter, when Harry returned from the maze with Cedric’s dead body and the words that Voldemort was back. Katie got reminded on last summer and the Dark Mark above the camp. It was hard to believe was Harry and Dumbledore were saying, and the Daily Prophet didn’t, then they kept publishing articles about how the two were liars, but the girl knew they had no reason to lie… Not about this.

The first few days of the summer holiday, Katie’s parents were in panic - as everyone else who believed Dumbledore - and Katie often heard them whispering and then stopping when she entered the room. After that they kept disappearing, for hours, sometimes even days. Later the girl found out, this was, because her parents joined the Order of the Phoenix. Getting back to Hogwarts it seemed things were normal… As normal as they could get at the school. But then things got worse and worse and the source of it was Umbridge. At some point the Gryffindor wished the dementors and Sirius Black back. When Fred, George and Harry got expelled from quidditch, she even thought the basilisk was better, than the pink dressed professor. It felt her with joy to go against the woman and didn’t hesitate to join the group Harry and his friends founded. Dumbledore’s Army became the best thing about that year, Katie learned a lot and gained a few new friends too. Somehow they managed to get through the year and by the end of it Katie wasn’t even that surprised, that they got rid of Umbridge. The curse worked once again.

Finally! It was Katie’s last year at Hogwarts. She was excited, but also a bit sad, than most of her friends graduated - or just took their brooms and flew away - last year. But she still had friends at Hogwarts, she had quidditch and she had to make sure she would pass her exams. All seemed to go quiet well, until that afternoon at Hogsmeade. Katie couldn’t remember what happened, but later she got told, that someone placed the Imperius Curse on her and she touched a cursed necklace. It was all pure luck she didn’t die. What she could remember, however was the terrible pain. She spent six months at St. Mungo’s before she could return to Hogwarts. Katie studied even harder so she could finish school this year, even though everyone told her not to put the extra pressure on herself and she could come back next year. In the end she exceled at her exams and graduated, leaving Hogwarts behind her. The blonde girl is a kind person, her friends are very important for her and she always stands up for them. She is honest, sometimes too honest, then Katie always says what’s on her mind without to take the time and think about her words first. That can end up very badly if she talks to the wrong person. Everyone who know her would confirm, that she is one of the most clumsiest person on earth. That’s the reason why no one would believe what a good quidditch player she is until they see her on her broom. As soon she flies her movements become graceful and she is full in her element. It was her second year when she got part of Gryffindor’s house team, but she already get to know them in her first year. Angelina and Alicia often went to the pitch with her and played quidditch, when they didn’t have practice. It was them who told Oliver Wood, that he should let her try out. Despite the fact, that she was cursed in her seventh year and spent a long time at St. Mungo’s, she was still able to graduate at the end of the year. The summer after her graduation she joined the Order of Phoenix. Among a lot of other members and her friends, she too became known as a blood traitor and was hunted by Death Eaters. She participated in the Battle of Hogwarts, she fought with her friends.

After the war Katie became a curse breaker and works for Gringotts.

Nicknames: Katie, Katie-Kate, Kit-Kat, Kat, Bell Date of Birth: 27. November 1978 N.E.W.T.s: Charms: E (Exceeds Expectations) Transfiguration: O (Outstanding) Potions: A (Acceptable) Defense Against the Dark Arts: E (Exceeds Expectations) Herbology: E (Exceeds Expectations) History of Magic: A (Acceptable) Astronomy: O (Outstanding) Arithmancy: E (Exceeds Expectations) Care of Magical Creatures: O (Outstanding) Ancient Runes: E (Exceeds Expectations)

Wand: Willow, phoenix feather, 10 ½ “ Pet: an owl named Brownie Special Position: Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, Member of Dumbledore’s Army, Member of the Duelling Club // Member of the Order of Phoenix Partonus: Wild Rabbit Boggart: Darkness Amortentia: the grass at the Quidditch pitch, chocolate frogs & Gryffindor common room Family:

Eleanor Bell (nee White), former Ravenclaw, works at St. Mungo’s at the reception [mother]

Edward Bell, former Gryffindor, works at the Ministry of Magic at the Centaur Liaison Office [father]

Timothy Bell, former Gryffindor, has his own antique shop at Diagon Alley

from Harry Potter Wiki [canon & source]

VERSES

Student Verse: Katie after being sorted into Gryffindor, could barely wait to be part of the quidditch team and explore the castle with friends. She ended up having an even more amazing friends group than she could have ever imagined. And adventures that could last for more than a lifetime. After Harry Potter became a student, life at Hogwarts was never the same again - and certainly never boring. ( sirius black stole my homework // 𝓚.𝓑. student verse. )

Pre-Battle Verse: Once she graduated, Katie joined the Order of Phoenix, just like her parents and her cousin did. She also applied at Gringotts, then it was her dream to become a curse breaker. However, soon things got more complicated, Katie got on the list of blood traitors and it was time to go into hiding. However that didn’t mean she stopped her activities for the Order. She still did everything she could. However, being chased and the upcoming war weighed heavy on the blonde’s shoulders. Katie still didn’t recover fully from the curse last year, almost every night she woke up screaming or crying, she had nightmares about the pain and was reliving that day over and over. The fear of her and her friend’s and family’s life didn’t make her situation any better. When Neville called the former DA members through their coins, Katie didn’t hesitate to go back to Hogwarts and to join in the battle. ( wanted blood traitor // 𝓚.𝓑. pre battle verse. )

Post-War Verse: It was terrible. They lost so many people - so many great people. Friends. Families. Yet those who survived had to keep going. And that’s what Katie did too. Or at least tried to do. The memories faded, but returned as soon she closed her eyes and added to the nightmares she already had. To the world Katie shows herself as the brave and cheerful girl she always have been, but inside she is breaking and she doesn’t know how to stop it. ( we are survivors // 𝓚.𝓑. post war verse. )

Modern Verse: Katie was always good at getting herself into trouble, but she always had her friends to count on to get her through it. Never afraid of a little adventure, Katie grew up admiring the Indiana Jones movies. So much so that she ends up studying archaeology herself. ( a magically normal life // 𝓚.𝓑. modern verse. )

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leviosarpg · 5 years

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Congratulations, GRACIE! You have been accepted for the role of VENUS ROWLE! Gracie, this app was p h e n o m e n a l. Venus is a character that’s rather hard to capture, simply because I think it’s so easy to veer away from her dark side, but you charged straight ahead and managed to illuminate the cruel ugliness of Venus so perfectly, my stomach is still churning from the sample app (in the best possible way). “The world won’t be kind to girls like me, why shouldn’t I treat it the same?” Gracie, this line was utter perfection and somehow manages to sum up Venus’s character flawlessly, explain her motivations, and provide such a wonderful insight into her mind. Venus is a taker, but more importantly, she’s someone with the ability to take what she wants, something this app highlighted effortlessly. I can’t wait to have Leviosa’s diamond on the dash!

Your faceclaim change to: Eliza Scanlen has been accepted. Don’t forget to send in your account to the main and complete the items listed on the CHECKLIST!

THE PLAYER

name/age/pronouns/timezone: Gracie/24/she her/ est

THE CHARACTER

desired role: Venus Rowle- I love the poisonous princess, the girl who is not in danger; but is the danger. Sickly sweet honey words laced with venom, smiled sharp enough to cut. The little girl who got everything she could possibly want, but took more. She’s coming for the crown, she’s coming for things she doesn’t even want - just because she doesn’t want someone else to have it.

gender/pronouns: cisfemale, she/her

extracurriculars: the harbingers, the slug club

para sample: (tw dubious con - kinda, tw self harm, tw underage? ) not exactly sure how to tag it but better safe than sorry!

He was seventeen, she was fifteen. All golden curls and a high babied voice, Venus Rowle never learned the word no. He was some minor pureblood heir, a Crabbe or some other. But he was beautiful, and she loved the way it felt to have his eyes follow her through the halls. Her friends noticed, and asked her in somewhat awed whispers in the back of charms.

“I am sure I don’t know what you mean.” Her eyes flashed more blue than green, and her smile was triumphant, barely concealed behind a modesty they all knew she didn’t have.

At her father’s Yuletide Party, Venus ignored him outright, dancing with nearly everyone else but him. His eyes never left her twirling golden figure, and she felt the jealousy burning in his gaze, reveling in this as if he were worshipping at her feet like the goddess of her namesake. Venus always knew how to play the game, had felt the heated gaze of men ever since she was 12 and she’d left her sister and childish shape for the curves of a woman. They liked the chase she learned. She learned to laugh and toss her head back joyously, how to place a delicate hand on her cheek, to absentmindedly play with a curl and draw their eyes to her neck like. She could fake demure and purity and goodness and all those other things men think they want.

And so, when she sensed the Crabbe heir was about to admit defeat, she caught his eye, smiled softly, and quickly looked away with a slight flush rising to her cheeks. He followed her into the library like she knew he would, a lovesick puppy leaning in to tuck a stray lock behind her ear. She resisted at first, the way they always wanted young girls to, but gave in to his kisses eventually. Men liked to think they were in charge, that they were the hunter and Venus was the doe eyed prey, quivering in his crosshairs. Men were easy.

After she let him worship the porcelain curves of her body, he buttoned up the back of her velvet dress, kissing her neck and whispering that one word they all wanted to hear. Love. She smiled with venom, and sent him back to the party first while she adjusted her hair in the mirror. Venus felt empty, unsatisfied. The next three nights of the holiday celebration, she ignored him outright. She was so easily bored, and he’d proved to be nothing more interesting than a pretty face and practiced lips.

He told her he’d ask his father for her hand, and she laughed.

On New Years Eve, he no longer followed her with those desperate puppy dog eyes. She saw him across the ballroom, whispering now in the ear of some much plainer girl, Venus thought unkindly. Her eyes flashed red. She didn’t want him, the idea of marriage was laughable to someone so young and burning. But she certainly didn’t want to be so easily replaced. Venus Rowle was the end all be all, not someone you got over in a matter of weeks.

On New Years Day she walked sobbing into her father study, peeling up a long sleeve to show a ring of purple bruises around one delicate wrist. A sleepless night spent in dedication to her plot added to her overall look of fear and shame. She said no, Venus told her parents in between tears, and he’d been so angry she would not go off with him alone and she’d told him and told him it was inappropriate but he gripped her wrist tighter and tighter almost pulling her away from the party so that she had to wrench herself from his grasp to remain pure. She’d found the bruises that morning, she sniffed for effect, and had been so ashamed and not wanted to bring harm to the family name but so afraid. Her mother stroked her hair to quiet the sobs, and, after delicately confirming her virtue was still intact, her father grabbed his cloak and stormed out the front door.

The Crabbe boy was quickly and quietly sent to America, his father bowing to the weight and power of the Rowle name. No one outside of her family ever knew, and he suffered with the unearned reputation of a brute. He wrote to her once, and she set it on fire without even reading it.

Venus might have been named for the goddess of love, but the Latin root should never be forgotten. Venenum, or rather, poison.

OTHERS & EXTRA (OPTIONAL)

May I pretty please change her face to Eliza Scanlen? Thank you!

Venus sometimes resents her sister, particularly on their birthday, a time she feels should be only dedicated to her. She was thrilled when they were sorted into different houses - the sorting ceremony the only time Diana has ever come first, D before V alphabetically.

Diana is too soft, this world will eat her alive, Venus fears. She cannot hide behind books forever, and Venus justifies her cruelty through love. Someone has to toughen up the younger Rowle, why not her own twin, someone who wouldn’t truly hurt her.

Venus has never been as clever as her sister, her marks always lower but really she had never cared that much. Did it matter what one knew of goblin rebellions or how many runes one could translate?

Her magic is surprisingly powerful, though her knowledge is limited. It comes from the violence in her blood, the fire burning in the hollow place in her chest that should hold a heart.

She is utterly cruel, a true Mean Girl, but with the charm and grace of her breeding and blood status. Words like poison laced barbs wrapped in velvet. She can tell you to go fuck yourself in a way that will make you truly want to.

She has almost no real friends, having begun to lose the girls of her childhood to competition or some sort of morality. She sometimes fears that if she truly needed someone, no one would answer the call. In these moments she reaches out to her sister, bothering her in the library and laying her golden head on Diana’s shoulder until she promises to always love Venus.

She isn’t sure when she first noticed Silvanus, likely when she caught the lovesick glint in her sister’s eyes. Venus has never been one to share and has always wanted what others have. He was beautiful and seemed almost kind. He’d be quite fun to ruin, she thinks.

Diary entries - I am obviously willing and happy to change all of the below especially with regards to other characters! Just some early thoughts

January 23

I was in the library last night copying Diana’s History of Magic essay - bored out of my mind. I have no desire to read or write anymore about goblin rebellions or giant wars or any other horrible creature who has been a threat to wizard kind. Sometimes I think we all might be better off if they were simply gone. But that is not a thing one says out loud, and so I will whisper it to you my dearest pages.

Anyway, I was bemoaning to myself the waste of time it is to read about things others have done instead of doing them myself when Riddle & Lestrange came over to sit at my table. Always a pleasant interruption, although I confess any sort of interruption was highly welcome, I had seen the two of them glancing over from across the room. I know how to attract attention, it is as natural as breathing. They came sooner than I’d thought - I am getting quite good.

They are beautiful boys, both tall and dark and brooding. Exactly the type of boy who my mother would say was up to no good. But Lestrange has the name and family wealth, and Riddle - well no one really knows all that much about him but he is brilliant, perhaps the most talented I have ever seen. And his charisma could charm even my overprotective and suspicious parents.

But, my dear friend, they were not interested in any sort of fun distractions. No - they had a proposal (no not that kind either - as if). Grindelwald, they say, wouldn’t dare come to England. They say he’s afraid of Dumbledore. But his ideas need a place to cultivate and take root here, so why not Hogwarts? I raised one eyebrow, perfectly poised on the line between disinterested and inviting. And so they said more. Riddle had ideas, plans to expand and go further. We were the next generation of leaders, were we not? Those not bogged down in the mess made from Grindelwald and the muggles and the destruction of everything good in the world. We should lead wizarding kind into the new world.

And, I’ll confess, I was terribly interested. The path my parents have painted for Diana & I seems dreadfully boring - marry some man and lose myself and my name to him, lose my body and my beauty to his children, become so consumed with the lives of messy tiny humans and give and give until who I am - Venus Manon Rowle - no longer exists. I will not be some empty shell belonging entirely to others. They spoke of power and change, and I held on to my air of aloofness as long as I could. But it was too perfect, and I gave over to the glamour of his vision quickly. They need my name and my charm, and (it was quite amusing to watch Lestrange struggle to find a tactful way to say so) my bite. I know I can be quite cruel, Diana has been more than happy to point it out to me. But being kind is boring, soft is weakness. The world won’t be kind to girls like me, why shouldn’t I treat it the same?

We stayed for another hour until the library matron threatened to call the caretaker or tell Slug we were out of bed after hours. But the plans and dreams continued in the common room late into the night. Lestrange is driven and controlling, Riddle has a charm and vision - they both match me in the ability to easily draw people in. Although, I might be a bit ahead of them in that case, having the name Riddle does not and being a fair bit more attractive than Lestrange. Most importantly - it is not just talk. You know how talk without action drives me mad. No, there are plans, and some have even already been enacted. Now I couldn’t possibly tell you the details even if I wanted to, having been sworn to secrecy, but Riddle himself has directly acted.

It was such a glorious night that I even woke up burning despite how little sleep I had gotten. I will tell you more later, I have to finish that stupid essay.

Love - V

PS. How terrible would it be for me to just accidentally forget to give Diana’s hers back and turn it in with my name instead? Binns would hardly notice. And Dee always forgives me.

June 22

Remember when I told you a few months ago that Freya was acting strangely? It has only gotten worse. I am practically seething with rage. Last night was daddy’s summer solstice gala, and Freya didn’t even say hello to me when she arrived. I was willing to look it over because she was with her family. But even later when she came around to speak with Giselle and I, something was off. I know how to read people, and I grew up with this girl - I know her every tick and every expression almost as much as I know my own sister’s. She is hiding something and I must find out what it is.

I tried to ask Giselle if she noticed anything wrong, but she seemed preoccupied as well. Am I the only one who knows how to have any fun? Giselle I am less worried about. She has always tried to compete with me, and it is healthy and natural for competition to develop between girls like us. She makes me sharper and I force her to rise up to my level. It is good for both of us I think, as long as I am always on top. Besides, I know her secrets and she knows enough of mine. I do love her dearly, but I would not hesitate to destroy her if necessary.

Mother says they are all jealous of me, but it has to be more than that - especially with Freya. I feared secretly from the moment she was sorted away from us all those years ago that we might lose her. I have made an effort, I constantly seek to include her in everything. And yet still, she is pulling away. Perhaps I will have to come up with some creative way to get her to confess what she is hiding.

And now, dear diary, please allow me a moment of weakness, a moment of insecurity. What if I lose them? And what if I never really had them to begin with? Sometimes I fear that they don’t actually love me, they might love the opportunities I can give them with my name. Or maybe they are afraid of me and play nice so they don’t end up on my bad side. Am I unlovable? Oh no Venus, you say, everyone loves you - look how many admires you have, how you can catch the attention of everyone in a room. No - they love who they think I am, the pretty mask I put on to hide the fact that I am all sharp edges and hot rage. But still, I would rather be loved and noticed for something, rather than hiding in the corners. Alright - I am done acting weak now.

Speaking of corners, I suppose I will always have my dear sweet Diana. My second, my shadow, my sister, my twin. She resists the type of criticism and growth I try and teach her, but she must take some of it in stride. I don’t much like sharing the spotlight, so I am happy that she is so reserved. Still, it would be good for Di to have some actual fun for one. To leave the library and step out from behind her books. I love her, dearly, and I only want the best for her. I confess, I may not be the best at showing her exactly how much she means to me. We are cruel to each other in the way only sisters can be, but I do believe she would die for me. And I know I would kill for her.

I will stop filling you with my melancholia now - V

#hp rp #hp rpg #lsrpg #literate rp #literate rpg #accepted #venus

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idolizerp · 5 years

Photo

LOADING INFORMATION ON B.RITE’S LEAD VOCAL, LEAD DANCE WANG WEI…

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 23 DEBUT AGE: 19 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: Koala.T ETC: This member was known prior to debut as a model

IDOL IMAGE

As one of the “most adult” members in B.rite (at least, when speaking for behavior), Koala.T figured Wei would be the perfect role model of the group, the foil to any bubbly, wild personalities. He was going to be suave, sophisticated, maybe a little cool. Because his parents were wealthy, he was trained in etiquette, in schmoozing, in everything many other normal people couldn’t quite fathom. He could behave. They wanted Wei to be respectable and he was more than happy to oblige. Really, that was the appeal of Wei. He never tilted windmills. Stalwart, reliable Wei would never have a scandal, would never make them sweat, and would be the dream of girls everywhere without them ever risking him stepping over the line.

Unfortunately, a side effect of his clean cut (yet cool) personality is that Wei is not exactly allowed to have fun. He cannot make jokes, just smooth comments, maybe flirt a little in that subtle way of his. Of course, that is a recent development, since B.rite has not been around for too long and while Wei is an adult by any standards there are minors in the B.rite fanbase, which means he has to keep it minimal. It is okay to give the fans hope, just not wreck his career by inadvertently starting a rumor. Some criticize him for being a stick in the mud, always refusing to do anything dorky or nerdy or silly. It does not align with his image. Variety shows were clearly never going to be his strong suit (he only knew how to talk about how attractive he was), so Koala.T steered him back towards modeling, insisting it was a perfect way to make him seem cultured, to remind people he may be boring but he is still incredibly pretty.

IDOL HISTORY

Wang Wei’s life began when he was four years old and his parents moved him from Hong Kong to Gangnam. It was not a difficult transition for Wei, who was young enough to adapt to the situation. He was placed in an average (albeit private) Korean school and became emerged in Korean culture. It became a part of him, as it was his home much longer than China ever was. Except, as Korean as he felt, everyone still always saw a Chinese boy. His accent could improve, he could pick up the slang, but there would always be those to point out that he did not belong. It made Wei learn to keep to himself, giving him few close relationships.

His father owned a large business conglomerate and it was always expected that he would take over as the only child. Really, he was the perfect fit for the position, at least on paper. By the time he was twelve, he got along better with his elders than he did with people his own age. He knew how to discuss politics while simultaneously not ruffling any feathers and what version of himself to use for every situation. Manipulative, maybe, but it was hardly an issue. The Wangs knew the importance of doing anything necessary to get at the top. Allies were more necessary than friendships and nothing was more important than success. His father taught him that. Nothing mattered except the goal; how you got there was of little circumstance. His father spent all his time at the office, so Wei and his mother hardly got to see him. He cared more about making his business prosper, about defeating the competition. That was probably what drove his parents’ marriage to the ground. After nine years of living in Korea, it was as much his mother’s home as his and she refused to be away from Wei. As his father was grooming him to take over his empire, Wei could hardly go back to China and live a normal life. So, they agreed to do joint custody.

From ages thirteen to fifteen, Wei was shuffled between his mother’s house and his father’s mansion. They both tried to make him the middle man, which ended in him spending all his time at after school clubs. They loved him. He never doubted that. They just hated each other more. So, he kept playing the piano, though he hated it, and joined the school choir, though he was not much of a team player, because it kept him away from both his houses. Even when he had nothing to practice, he took to going to local coffee shops, figuring it was better than listening to his mom complain about who his father was dating, or be ignored by his father for paperwork. It was during one of those aimless trips that a modeling scout approached him. Wei never had any deigns on being a model or being anything really. It was always about the family business; even his own mother took it as a given. Wei would have never considered such a rebellion had his father not announced his remarriage later that week. The small part of him that hoped his parents would make up someday died and he called the number on the card. Wei decided he wanted to be a model and that would be that. Both his parents told him how awful the idea would be. He was too young to make such a decision, he needed to focus on his studies, the head of the Wang empire could not be some common model. The discussion resulted in his first screaming match with his father and a week of radio silence after. In the end, Wei decided it would be easier to convince his mother, particularly if he pited her against her ex-husband. Really, it only took the words “dad said you would be too afraid to disagree with him”. She gave her blessing and Wei began his career. He also began an incredibly strained relationship with his father. The beginning of the end.

His stepmother and stepsiblings were hardly unpleasant. In fact, he got along well with them. They were certainly more sympathetic than his father, who seemed to think tough love was the only way to get him to become practical again. After his father ghosted him on his eighteenth birthday, one of his new siblings dragged him to an audition for Koala.T, figuring it would be a fun little story for the two little rich kids to share with their friends. Neither of them expected Wei to make it through the process. Wei had no classical vocal training, aside from those years of choir, though, piano had taught him a thing or two about pitch and tone as well. After finding out where the two were, his father outright forbid him to do become a trainee. He could either quit that damn dream and being a model or he would be disowned.

Wei remained full time with his mother from then on. It would be a long time before his father so much as called him again.

Wei spent the next four years juggling training and school. The happiest moment of his life was when he debuted with B.rite, the boys becoming the closest thing he ever had to friends. Unfortunately, he did not foresee a whole new force in his life trying to control him. Wei had traded his father for Koala.T. They informed every aspect of his life, tailoring him to succeed in the kpop industry, even if he did not agree with their decisions.

Wei never expected becoming an idol to be easy, but he never expected for people to become hung up on his background. He considered himself Korean more than anything, but the rest of the world didn’t see him that way. They saw him as a “foreigner”, which helped with international sales, but made every childhood insecurity he ever felt pop up. There were also rumors about how his rich parents must have bought him into the position, which was the furthest thing from the truth. Currently, his relationship with his father is still rocky. Wei is still lucky to receive a phone call every six months from him, which usually results in him reminding him that the business is still there and his career might not be the next time he calls. One of his stepbrothers has instead taken his former position as future heir. His mother, despite allowing him to do it, is reluctantly supportive at best. Still, Wei has never regretted being part of B.rite. As someone with no aim in life prior to joining Koala.T, he never expected to love anything as much as he does being on stage. So, if he has to give in to Koala.T and give up half his sanity to do it, he will. If he has to claw his way past the competition, he won’t hesitate to pull the charm. He might not be what the Wang family expected, but in the end, he is his father’s son. Stubborn until the very end.

#id.bio #id.wong yukhei #id.koalat #id.brite

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eirabach · 6 years

Text

Coming Home [1/1]

This is 7000 words of love letter to the England football team, and specifically their manager, thinly disguised as CS fic. Gorgeous aesthetic by the incredible @katie-dub who joins me as an inaugural member of the Inappropriate Gareth Southgate Crush fan club.

No matter what happens tomorrow, lads. No matter what.

They’d all laughed when they’d given him the job.

Years of the finest tacticians the continent could offer - though admittedly there’d been a few turkeys along the way - and the British press had torn each of them to shreds. Failure after failure dropped at their feet, their careers blighted by the inevitable English Curse while their players sold razor blades and fucked pop stars and pocketed their millions and all the time being watched by a nation of children who grew into adults, grew into old men and women who’d never seen an English success story.

No one wanted to sip from that poisoned chalice. No one dared face the fury of a nation denied again and again and again.

Luckily, Killian Jones was used to it.

The Sun, The Mirror, the broadsheets. They’d all sneered at his appointment in their own indomitable ways.

England Expects… Second Time Lucky For Jones?

FA Appoint Jones: England’s Sacrificial Lamb

The Curse Continues for England’s Lost Boys

Need a Hand There Mate?

This last accompanied by a pap’s photo of him struggling into training one morning, hair askew, prosthetic unattached.

(It had been Milah’s birthday the night before, his dreams full of fire and fuelled by rum, and Will had sent him up to the boardroom twenty minutes in when he’d threatened to have the bickering midfield strung up by their ankles and used for penalty practice.)

He knows there’s no point complaining, nonetheless. It’s not the worst headline they’ve run about England’s manager.

It’s certainly not the worst headline they’ve run about him.

There is one difference in his appointment to this supposedly sainted position:

They all agree. Left wing, right wing. Man in the street and professional pundit.

He’s doomed.

“You’re doomed, little brother,,” Liam tells him cheerfully as he eats his breakfast propped up against the quartz worktop that Killian knows the Navy didn’t pay for. “Sorry.”

“Your confidence astounds me.”

“Your idiocy astounds me! What was the matter with punditry? I thought you enjoyed it! It paid the bills -“

“I don’t care about the bills.”

“Spoken like a man who doesn’t worry about next months nursery fees - Killian listen -“ Liam puts down his bowl and leans forward, pleading. “they’ll tear you apart. Don’t - I don’t want to watch that again.”

“I won’t do any more pizza adverts if that’s what you’re worried about,” Killian grumbles, snatching the bowl and rinsing it immediately.

“Have you forgotten what it was like?” Liam asks, aghast. “They crucified you, little brother, the shame -“

“You don’t need to tell me about shame,” Killian snaps. “As for forgetting - I’ve spent twenty years -“

“Pretending! Pretending that you’re a drunk and a womaniser and that you didn’t - don’t - care but Killian -“

“Get out.” The words are ice, the warm kitchen physically cooling in their wake. Liam looks briefly shocked.

“Pardon?”

“You heard me,” Killian grits out. “I’ve enough to deal with from the press I don’t need my own brother -“

“I’m trying to protect you!”

Oh, he knows. He’s always known.

Six years old, newly motherless and utterly rudderless, ferried to practice on the cross bar of Liam’s bike.

Eighteen and capped for his country, hyperventilating in a public toilet while Liam guarded the door.

Twenty and certain, oh so certain, standing at the spot and Liam watching from the touchline.

Oh so certain and oh so wrong.

And he knows, but he has to because this - this is his chance. His last, only chance.

He has to lay the ghosts to rest. He has to.

And he can’t let anything, not even Liam, not even his own inability to believe - to dream - stop him.

“I don’t need your protection!” Killian spits. “I’m done, Liam! I’m not that little kid you scolded for risky tackling anymore! I’ve lived under this shadow half my life! I need to move on. I need -“

I need to believe. I need you to believe in me.

“You need a better team,” Liam says, “tell me you’ve that, at least.”

“Oh aye.” Killian calms, smug satisfaction slipping into his voice. “That, I can promise you.”

—-

Qualifying, and judging by Liam’s expletive strewn text when the teamsheet is announced he’s starting as the tabloids expect.

Badly.

I know several promising four year olds, brother, should I send them over?

Mills?! He’s a fetus, Killian.

A fetus who can play.

You’d better hope so, brother. The whole bloody country hopes so.

Mills might be the youngest player on the pitch - 18 and a pale but determined figure in the goal mouth - but the whole team is Killian’s own creation.

Gone are the men who’d bickered and sneered at each other. Gone are those who saw playing for their country as a chore - one they’d rather avoid when the off season is full of better financial offers - and those too exhausted by failure to dare to dream of success.

Killian has been one of them, once. Late at night, the back pages spread out around him in his empty house and the rum bottle far too close by, he thinks he still might be. But then he sees the gleam in the eyes of a player like Mills and he thinks enough.

Enough.

It’s time.

Shame no one told the opposition. Or the ref.

It’s another high tackle, studs up as England make a break for goal, and once again the ref waves it off with an indirect free kick.

The crowd bellow their displeasure but they’ve nothing on Will, whose furious gesticulating at the touchline makes him look like some sort of tracksuit clad dervish.

“That’s a red!” he bellows. “A RED!”

Except it isn’t. It’s a free kick that the opposition defence clear from danger a little too easily. Again.

A nasty, creeping sense of foreboding tickles at the back of Killian’s neck as the cameras focus on his face and the hacks start writing.

He doesn’t believe in curses.

He doesn’t.

“Sit down, Will. You’ll rupture and the Sun will have your innards. Literally.”

“You’re not serious, gaffer? Didn’t you see -“

Killian grits his teeth.

“Sit down. They’re watching.”

Will stamps back to his seat, face creased in fury.

“They’re always bloody watching, gaffer. That’s their bloody job. Ref need to do his.��

“Don’t you worry about the ref’s job,” Killian says grimly, eyes on the way midfield can’t quite connect their passes, mind already on the talk he’ll have to give at half time.

Calm. Collected. Everything he hasn’t been for longer than he likes to think.

(Once he had been. Before the penalty spot. Before Milah and the drink and the accident. Once. He’s sure he was.)

“Worry about ours.”

—-

They’d all laughed when they’d given her the job.

Laughed and crowed and cat called their way through her first press conference that absolutely had to be held because she’s the first and she’s important.

She’d always imagined it would feel better than this.

David sits on the end of her futon, half a pizza balanced precariously on his knee as he bounces his leg. A nervous tick he’s had since childhood, and he’s never more nervous than when he risks Emma’s wrath.

“I’m just not sure this is a good idea, Emma.”

“Really? Money is a bad idea now?” Emma chews on her own piece of pizza and shrugs. “Could have fooled me.”

“It’s not about the money. You know what soccer fans are like!”

“Well I should,” Emma agrees, “I’ve been one all my life.”

“Yeah, and look at the grief you got even then! And Russia. It’s a different world, Emma.”

“I’m pretty sure it isn't. And I can handle myself. I’ve done it long enough.”

David’s face falls and she regrets the sharpness almost immediately, but she can’t quite bring herself to apologise, or to admit the truth.

Frankly, she’s terrified.

Emma is used to being on her own, abandoned at birth and bounced around the foster system until she’d finally ended up with David and his mother and had to learn how to function as part of a family.

It’d been hard, even now she’s sure she isn’t as good a sister - as good a person - as she ought to be, but soccer had helped.

Soccer had always helped. Soccer was all she’d had.

Playing, supporting, being a part of something, no matter how small and shitty the team or how little time she spent there it had taught her how to work with others, relate to them, when the temptation had been to run away and rely on her own wits.

Not that there hadn’t been moments, bad homes and tempting offers from worse boys, but soccer had kept her feet on the ground.

Now her playing days are over - the disadvantage of her permanent home had been that the women’s game was not wildly popular in Podunk Storybrooke, Maine - and yet.

And yet.

She’d taken her refereeing qualifications to keep her eye in, starting with the kids matches and then moving up, up to college level, up to the leagues.

Up to the World Cup.

The first woman referee in the history of the competition.

The American papers hadn’t taken too much notice, the USA had failed to qualify and the country as a whole preferred their football to contain more brute force than finesse, but Europe -

She wishes David hadn’t read the comments.

She wishes she hadn’t read the comments.

But he did and she has and still. She’s going. She has to.

“I have to,” she tells him, trying for reassuring and catching his pizza slice as it makes a bid for freedom. “You know I have to.”

David smiles.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I know. But don’t let them mess you about. You’re the best. Don’t forget that.”

Emma smiles. Small and a little sly.

“Oh I promise. They won’t know what hit them.”

—-

They’re through by the skin of their teeth, paparazzi nipping at their heels as they arrive in Russia in neatly tailored suits that don’t show the sweat stains. Mills’ suit trousers are two inches too short and the team surround him as they scurry through the airport to the waiting team bus like so many elephants protecting the baby of the herd from the gathering hyenas.

Which, Killian supposed, they more or less were.

Qualifying hadn’t made the press back off. Qualifying had made the press hungry.

“Jones! Jones! How are you feeling?”

“Any regrets?”

“Is this England’s year?”

“Are you worried about penalties?”

“What about the curse?”

Killian lifts his chin, marching onward to the bus without giving the press anything but the small, polite wave that he knows is obligatory and keeping his glare for the moment their out of sight.

“Bunch of tossers,” says Will cheerfully, his arm slung over Mills’ shoulder. “Better keep ‘em sweet eh lads?”

The lads cheer, and Will guffaws in approval, but Killian is miles away. Decades away.

Wearing his own suit and the weight of expectation hanging round his neck and -

It’s coming home, it’s coming…

“Gaffer?”

They’re at the bus and Will is looking at him through too shrewd eyes. There’s a reason Killian picked him as his number two, after all. Liam worries and the papers speculate, but Will? Will knows.

“All right?”

“Ask me in a month,” Killian mutters grimly, then boards the bus with a studied grin and a bellow of “Here we go, lads! Here we go!”

—-

Here we go, Emma thinks, handing in her credentials to an incredulous Russian official. Here we goddamn go.

The official calls over a couple of his pals who all mutter uncertainly amongst themselves, before finally stamping card and handing over her ID with a suspicious glare and minimal manners.

That the officials are confused by her presence is surprising in that they invited her - and it isn’t like Emma Swan is a particularly gender neutral name - but the teams, well.

Confusion would be a blessing.

Her language skills are pretty basic - she barely scraped her GED and most of her high school Spanish lessons were spent searching the dictionaries for words to keep an amorous temporary sibling at bay - but she doesn’t need google translate to get the jist of their opinions.

And they do seem to have a lot of them. And none of them are good.

“I just don’t see what you being a woman has to do with…” Mary Margaret gesticulates weakly to the pocket of Emma’s uniform when she returns to the hotel room “that.”

“When I pull a card, it’s touched my boob,” Emma says, eyes already scanning the fixture list she’s been given. “Apparently that excites them.”

“But they have to respect you, surely?” Mary Margaret is wide eyed on the bed, and Emma feels a rush of affection for her sweet natured sister in law. Affection, and a touch of pity. “You’re the referee!”

“Because soccer players are so famous for their respect for the laws of the game? Didn’t you see Neymar in qualifying? He spent so much of the match on the floor Gaston went to make a cup of coffee before resuming play.”

“You know I don’t understand anything you just said, right?” Mary Margaret leans forward and squeezes Emma’s leg. “But I have faith. You’re brilliant, Emma. I believe in you.”

“Thanks.” Emma smiles at her. “But it’s fine. They’ll get used to me I guess.”

Mary Margaret raises her eyebrows.

“You’re a trailblazer Emma, you know that? I’m so proud of you.”

Emma shrugs, picking at the edge of her shirt. It’s too big, but that’s not unusual. At least she hasn’t had to fashion a belt from her whistle strap this time.

“It’s just a job, Mary Margaret.”

“Is it?”

Emma bites her lip.

“All right,” she admits. “It’s a big deal. The biggest. What if I fuck up? Make the wrong call? I could fuck the whole thing over - the cup, myself, fucking feminism, the lot - I-“

“Who’s fucking what up now?”

David sticks his head around the door, eyes narrowed and full cop-face on display. Emma licks her suddenly dry lips and shrugs again. Mary Margaret sighs.

“Emma’s having a crisis of confidence.”

“Am not.”

“Emma -“

“Hey.” He pulls her into his arms, cradling her head in his hand and she burrows her chin into his shoulder without even meaning to. “It’s ok to be nervous. If you weren’t nervous you wouldn’t care. And you care so much Emma. You love this game. You were made for this.”

“Tell the papers that.”

“Oh screw the papers!” David snaps, “what the fuck do they know!”

Mary Margaret gasps. “David!”

David pulls back from the hug and grips Emma’s shoulders.

“They’ll write whatever they want,” he says fiercely. “You should see the shit they write about their own countries! Forget them. You can do this. You’re good - no, you’re the best. They’ll be clammering to have you in charge of their games you’ll see.”

“That’s not really how it works.”

“That’s not really my point.”

Emma laughs, a little softly but genuinely enough, and shakes her head.

“Do you give these pep talks to everyone or?”

David grins.

“Just my favourites.”

—-

Watching the competition might be necessary, but Killian’s never found it very relaxing.

It’s a constant stream of analysis, of tactics, of how do we and what if they, and it’s exhausting. Especially scrappy, messy games like this where the players seem to spend more time arguing than concentrating on the play.

Both sides are particularly keen to share their sob stories with the ref, arms flailing and spittle flying, and that’s not usual, nor at all, but the ref -

The ref is.

He’d known she was here, of course. Even in avoiding the press as much as he tries to, things like the first woman to referee a World Cup game do tend to sneak through, and he can’t help but feel a frisson of pride when he sees her step up to call the coin toss. A sense that the game that he’s dedicated his life to might - just might - be beginning to move towards something better and brighter.

“At least we’re group favourites,” mumbles Will as Portugal create a chance from nothing (how do you defend nothing? Where do you even begin?) “Or second favourites.”

Killian rolls his eyes. He’s long since stopped relying on betting shops for his predictions.

“We went out last time to a dentist and a guy who runs a doggy day care, or did you forget?”

Will winces. “That was different.”

“That was the Euros. This is bigger.”

Will gives him a sideways look.

“All right, spill,” he asks. “What’s got your goat? You’re a miserable fuck right enough but you’re even worse than usual.”

Killian doesn’t even look at him. “And you’re charming as ever.”

“Jones.”

“Scarlet.”

“I've got a feeling,” Will says, and Killian closes his eyes briefly. Scarlet once he gets going is like a dog with a bone, and it’s useful in training certainly but rather less helpful when directed at Killian personally.

“Just the one?”

“Oi. Listen.” The sideways look becomes a full on glare. “Have you been on twitter again?”

Killian shakes his head.

“I don’t -“

“Because Liam says -“

Liam says a lot of things. Says them on phones calls and on WhatsApp and in Killian’s head at the side of the training pitch and in the dead of night.

None of which he wants to think about when he’s watching Ronaldo systematically destroy a defence.

“Oh you’ve been gossiping about me with my brother? Very loyal of you Scarlet. I’ll remember that next time I find you with your head in the toilet.”

“No we was just -“

There’s a roar from the crowd, a huddle of players surrounding the ref who’s barely even visible among the sea of waving arms gesturing in her direction.

“Christ! Look at that!”

It happens in less time than it takes Will to point, one moment the referee is standing in the centre of what’s become a mob, the next she’s on the ground, struggling to her feet.

A flash of red and there’s a man off and a spreading mark on the side of the ref’s face.

“He’s banned,” Will states grimly. “Won’t see him again this year. Stupid mistake.”

“Mistake?” Killian scowls. “Bringing the game into disrepute!”

“Yeah, well.” The ref blows her whistle. Play resumes with several players looking rather shamefaced. “Let’s see how that works out for them.”

—-

It doesn’t.

The final whistle sees the ten men traipse miserably from the field while their opponents celebrate with a lap of honour.

The ref follows them off. The mark on her face has faded but even from where Killian sits in the box he can see the set of her shoulders, the anger in her gait.

He’s walked off like that. Worse than that. He’d had Liam and Rob - poor long suffering Rob who’d held this job longer than any other man had managed - but the ref…

He hopes she has someone waiting for her in the tunnel.

He hopes.

He gets to his feet.

Hope isn’t enough. It never is.

“Where are you going?!” Will calls after him as he heads for the staircase. “You promised me a drink!”

“I need to go check on something.”

Will laughs, wagging his finger after Killian as though he’s a naughty schoolboy.

“Something. Sure. Have fun with something. Don’t get us disqualified, yeah?”

Killian doesn’t turn back.

“Don’t be crass, Scarlet.”

“Don’t be changing the habits of a lifetime, Jones,” Will trills. “Tell her she made the right call on that penalty, yeah?”

“Yeah yeah,” Killian mutters. No point in denial. “I will.”

—-

He means to.

But then he finds her at the end of the tunnel, leaning against the wall next to what appear to be a storage cupboard with a poorly scrawled female figure sellotaped to it. Her fists are clenched and her breathing laboured, and for the first time in his whole life he can’t quite bring himself to talk about football.

She’s beautiful. He really tries not to notice, but he’s not blind. Furious green eyes and a wild halo of blonde hair from where it’s escaped from it’s ponytail, a sharp chin that juts in his direction as she snaps, “What?”

His heart jumps in a way it hasn’t for decades - not since his playing days, not since Milah - and it’s stupid because he’s forty and he has a reputation but his tongue feels too big for his mouth, his legs unsteady in the face of her flushed cheeks and steely glare.

He came to say something, didn’t he? He’s sure he was meant to say something.

“You ok pal?” She pushes back from the wall, hands on her hips. “You lost?”

Something like that, he thinks. Something very like that.

“He shouldn’t have done that,” he manages. “It was disrespectful.”

She scoffs. “What, cause I’m a woman?”

“No. Because you’re the ref.”

“Don’t condone dissent huh?” She narrows her eyes. “You’re Jones.”

“I see you’ve heard of me.” He grins, and it pulls a little at the corner of his mouth as though it’s wider than usual. “You can look up my discipline record if you like, I was a fairly good boy.”

She lifts one eyebrow and scoffs again, but there’s a smile threatening at the edge of her mouth.

“On the pitch maybe.”

“Maybe.” Mostly. But he knows what she’s referring to. There’d been a lot of rum, after. A lot of regrets. He’s never regretted them quite as much as he does now though. “Are you quite all right, though? Truly?”

“I’m fine.” She shrugs. “I mean - I’ve had worse.”

He bets she has. The thought doesn’t comfort him any more than he expects it comforts her.

“Not quite what I asked, Swan.”

“How do you know my name?”

Smooth, Jones. Very smooth. Follow a woman into a dark corridor and then act like a stalker.

“I read,” he says in an attempt at justification. “There aren’t many refs who go by “Emma””

“Not here there aren’t. I uh -“ she waves in the direction of the cupboard. “Ought to get to my locker room.”

It’s his turn to scoff now.

He loves this game, he does, but by god does it have a long way to go.

“A generous term, but as it’s yours I’ll allow it. See you around, Swan.”

“Belgium,” she says, and her expression turns surprised as though the word has escaped without her permission.

“Pardon?”

“I’m assisting. At the Belgium game. So I’ll see you there. At Belgium.”

Oh yes. Football. The most important thing in his life. The only thing.

She smiles, and something in his chest roars to life.

Belgium. He’ll see her at Belgium.

“I look forward to it.”

—-

The canteen is a riot of colour and languages, hundreds of people swarming through with plates of food Emma couldn’t name with a gun to her head and jostling for space at long tables.

The three of them pause in the doorway, all looking for a spot where they can sit together. Emma sees it first.

“Dibs!” she calls. “Mary Margaret?”

“On it!” She calls in return, heading for the snaking line at the food counters as Emma and David bolt for the free seats.

It’s only when she gets closer that Emma realises who’s sitting opposite, handsome profile partially obscured by a tactical notebook.

David’s eyes narrow then grow large and round as saucers.

“Isn’t that..?”

“Swan!” Killian Jones beams at her and her traitorous heart skips a beat. “Excellent job in the Croatia game last night!”

“Thanks,” she mumbles, and god if she’s blushing David will never let her live it down. “It was a good game.”

“The best,” Killian agrees, then his eyes flick from hers to David and the megawatt smile dims ever so slightly. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Oh!” Emma gestures between them. “This is my brother, David. This is -“

“Killian Jones,” David says, and Emma does a double take at the breathiness of his tone. “I know who you are.”

“My reputation precedes me,” says Killian. “I’d ask if it were all good but, alas -“

“You were the best left winger of your generation! Your pace! There was nothing you couldn’t outrun!”

Emma watches with interest as Killian’s cheeks flush pink.

“Nothing but time and bad choices, at least.”

David shuffles on the spot, “I guess, but -“

“Meatballs!” Mary Margaret drops the tray in the table with a cheerful smile. “Everyone loves meatballs, right?”

“Works for me,” says Emma. “Killian?”

“Metabolism isn’t up to it these days,” he says, patting the leather waistcoat that’s his calling card in the technical area.

Emma shrugs. “Suit yourself. Doesn’t look like there’s much wrong with you to me.”

The words are out before she can stop them, fucking so smooth, Emma, Jesus, but Killian Jones just looks a little bit sad.

She’d expected an innuendo.

She’d have preferred an innuendo.

“I assure you, there’s nothing at all wrong with me. Well.” He lifts his left hand and smiles wearily. “Apart from the obvious.”

“Oh dear!” Mary Margaret leans over the table and rests her hand over the metal contraption at the end of his wrist. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” says Killian, but there’s a furtive look in his eyes that Emma is familiar with. She gets the same look in hers when someone asks about her family. The look that means you’re preparing a lie. “An old wound.”

And doesn’t she know how they never quite heal.

“David,” she says, a little too sharply, “Have you sorted the flights to Sochi yet?”

“No I was going to -“

“The agent is holding a meeting this afternoon - if you get there early enough maybe they can get you priority seats?”

“But -“

Mary Margaret is looking between Emma and Killian with a look of gradually dawning comprehension.

“Good idea,” she says, “come on David.”

“But -“

“We can get a doggy bag, I don’t want to risk missing the flight -“

She grins at Emma over David’s shoulder as she leads him away, two plates of meatballs balanced in her arms, and wriggles her eyebrows.

Subtle, thinks Emma. But then Killian Jones is sitting opposite her at the canteen table, lips curled into a smile and eyes fixed on hers, and she thinks.

Maybe subtlety is overrated.

—-

He appreciates that Emma is not staring at his left hand, in fact she barely seems to have acknowledged it, but then it is common knowledge.

Greatest player of his generation fails spectacularly on the world stage. Goes utterly off the rails. Loses his form. Loses his hand.

It’s hardly a secret.

He doesn’t know why he has the urge to tell her about the few things that are.

“It was an accident.” He taps his prosthetic on the table. “I was -“

Emma lifts an eyebrow. “I know. Everyone knows. You don’t need to tell me.”

“Most people want the gory details.”

“You’re good.” Emma waves her fork over the meatballs. “Must have been hard, losing your career like that.”

“It wasn’t the worst thing I lost,” says Killian. “Not by far.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she sounds like she actually means it, a little furrow firming between her eyes. “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry. About your wife.”

There had been a time not so very long ago when even the word had been enough to send him into a spiral of furious misery. Wife. Always said in that same odd tone of pity with a frisson of thrill, as though their genuine sympathy for his loss is merely a veneer to disguise their prying.

It doesn’t sound like that when Emma says it.

It sounds like she means it.

He isn’t sure quite what to make of that.

“You have done your research. There are laws against stalking you know.”

She smiles, and her whole face lights up and he’s screwed.

“Says you.”

“Fair point.”

So screwed.

“So,” she leans forward, eyes flicking left and right. “Tell me. Is it true?”

God. What a question. Which part? The drink? The drugs? The women and the days that he can’t remember.

The years he can’t remember.

“What?”

“You know.” Her smile turns conspiratorial. “About the team.”

“What?” he says again, dumbly.

“I heard a rumour. Something about blow up unicorns on the swimming pool roof?”

Killian releases a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“Tell me,” he says, leaning in himself until their noses are only inches apart. “What do you know about Will Scarlet?”

—-

They’re losing. Losing to the flies, to the heat, to a Belgian team that - deep in his heart of hearts - he knows have a much more substantial chance of carrying the trophy home than they do.

He ought to care, and he does, he does, but it’s difficult to give the pitch his full attention when Swan is four feet away, her own laser focus on the game putting him to shame.

They’re through anyway, he tells himself to assuage his guilt. They’re through anyway, and he’s only human after all.

He spends half time buoying up the boys as best he can. They, at least, are gutted by the scoreline. Young Mills is grey-faced in his neon green shirt, muttering apologies for a goal that Killian knows, knows, the Sun will lay the blame for at his inexperienced feet.

“There’s no need, lad,” he tells him after the fifth I’m so sorry. “You show me a keeper who says kept a clean sheet in every game and I’ll show you a liar. What’s done is done. It’s over. The next forty five minutes. The next game. That’s what I want you to concentrate on. That’s what matters. You can beat yourself up, or you can beat the rest, which is it?”

Mills nods, hands clenching and unclenching as he works out the nervous cramps, and the whole tea return to the field with a determination that hadn’t been there before the break.

“Nice speech,” mutters Will. “Taking your own advice?”

Kilian quirks an eyebrow and waits for the television cameras to sweep over them before he answers.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you don’t know what I mean, why’d you wait for the tv to bugger off?”

“I had to make sure they got my best side.”

“Sure you -”

The crowd roars, a chance for England, and Killian’s half to his feet before the whistle goes. Emma’s flag is up. Offside.

He hopes that’s not a metaphor.

“Least she’s being careful not to play favourites,” Will grumbles.

Killian glares at him. “She’s doing her job.”

“Aye, and I’m doing mine.”

Will and Killian lock eyes.

“I’m not sure I like what you’re insinuating, Scarlett.”

“And I ain’t sure I like this scoreline. But hey.” Will smiles, and shows a few too many teeth. “Could be worse. Let’s avoid Brazil, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Killian mutters.

There’s another English miss that they really should have buried and the crowd jeer and hoot their disapproval.

“Could be worse.”

��—-

Emma leaves the pitch sweaty and with at least half a dozen midges having met their end on her face, but she doesn’t head straight to the showers. Killian Jones is on the pitch surrounded by tv cameras and well made-up journalists, and she can’t help but watch, fascinated, from the edge of the now empty stands as they round on him like a pack of smiling hyenas.

“Is this the end for England’s run, Killian?”

“Do you regret the choice to bring Mills?”

“What went wrong out there today, Killian?”

You’d think they’d gone out, such were the accusations, the sharp disapproval in their faces, but they haven’t. Emma has carefully filled in the wallchart David has hung up in their hotel room. She knows this is the better side of the draw. The luckier side.

She wants to tell Killian, even though it’s ridiculous because he knows, he knows, but he’s standing under the floodlights, dark brows furrowed as he tries to answer the questions that are barked at him, and somehow it seems very important that she makes sure.

It’s an age until he leaves. Her uniform is sticking to her, her hair is standing on end. She needs a shower, desperately.

But his expression is still dark and yeah. Yeah.

This is a guy who knows what desperation really looks like.

“You played well.”

She follows him into the tunnel, checking briefly over her shoulder for paps as she does so. He doesn’t look at her, but he slows his pace so that she can catch up.

It’s a start.

“I’m afraid you much have me confused with someone half my age, Swan. I sat on my arse.”

“You know what I mean.”

He sighs. “Do I?”

“Hey!” She grabs his elbow, forcing him to turn and look at her. “You’re not angry at them, are you?”

Killian gapes at her. “Angry at them? Christ, no. I’m angry at myself.”

“Why? You’re not responsible for what the press - “

“Oh aren’t I? Aren’t I? If I’d scored -“

He’s moved closer, and it’s her turn to stare at him blankly. Her hand is still on his elbow, fingers wound tight into the fabric of his shirt, and it suddenly feels very important that she not let go.

“Wait, what?”

He closes his eyes.

“We were so close, Swan!”

It takes her a moment. Of course it does, she was just a kid back then, 15 and with a family for the first time in her life. A family and her beloved soccer, and hadn’t that been the best summer of her life? So yeah, it takes her a moment to remember it must have seemed like the worst of his.

“This is about that penalty?” She releases her death grip on his shirt and runs her hand up his arm. “Killian it’s been twenty years -“

He shrugs off her attempt at comfort, jabbing his finger bitterly towards where the press had gathered.

“And every year that passes they get worse. I know what they’ll be saying about Henry Mills tonight, and I’m sick of it. Sick of it.”

“Killian! Killian -“

There’s movement at the entrance to the tunnel and they shrink back into the shadows as one.

“Don’t let them get to you like this,” Emma hisses. “They can’t play. They can’t do what you do.”

“Any idiot can do what I do and several do. Ask the German press.”

“I don’t believe that.” Emma folds her arms and looks at him critically: “you’ve stood on this stage before. You know how it feels. The love. The fear. That matters you know. You know how to be part of something.”

He shakes his head.

“All I know is how to fail at the last hurdle.”

“If you say so, but I read, Jones. I know what you’ve overcome to get here.” She looks him up and down, gaze lingering for just a second on his prosthetic before flicking to his face. His mouth. She swallows. “Doesn’t look like failure to me.”

——

The lads are ready, or at least they think they are, but Killian has been here before (albeit only on the European stage), and he knows nothing - nothing - can prepare you for the moment you walk out into a pitch for a game like this.

The quarter finals. The knockout stages of a World Cup.

Not that there’s any pressure of course. The English are infamously restrained when it comes to sporting success, and if Killian is having to grit his teeth every time someone asks him if it’s coming home then at least it’s better than being asked when their flight is. He’s hidden himself away in the corridor between the boxes and the dressing room staircase,trying to take a moment to breath in between greeting passing dignitaries.

Amazingly he’s managed not to be sick, but the night is young yet.

“Hey.”

Her voice is so soft he first thinks he’s hallucinating from nervous exhaustion, but she’s there, scuffing the toe of her sneaker along the concrete floor and wringing her fingers together.

“I wanted to see if you were ok.”

Killian stares at her. No, he isn’t. He’s not at all okay and yet…

“Of course, Swan. All the better for seeing you.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but she smiles all the same.

“Yeah, well.” She looks him up and down. “Didn’t want you freaking out. Again.”

“I don’t freak out, Swan.”

“If you say so.”

She steps a little closer then hesitates, checking the corridor for eavesdroppers before admitting, “I shouldn’t really be here.”

“No I suppose not. I didn’t think you were allowed to play favourites?”

“Please. Who says I’m supporting you?”

He lifts an eyebrow.

“Did I insinuate such a thing?”

“Hmm.” She tilts her head to one side and considers him. “You didn’t have to.”

“Dangerous ground that, Swan. Very dangerous.”

They stare at each other for a moment, and Killian feels himself swaying toward her unintentionally, captivated by the glint in her eye and the way she worries her lip between her teeth.

This is dangerous ground, all right.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” she says, “I can support you now. That is if I want to, which I’m not saying I do.”

“What?”

She gestures to her outfit and he realises belatedly she’s not in her kit. “My matches are done. I should be flying home today.”

“Forgive me but you’re a long way from the airport.”

“Yeah well,” she grins, then points into the crowd. “Somebody insisted on staying a little while longer.”

She holds out her phone to show him a picture.

David is standing, draped in red and white, his arms outstretched as he bellows along to a song. Beside him Mary Margaret is engrossed in a programme.

“I think he’s become quite the fan,” Emma says with a wink. “He’s started drinking lager.”

“Heaven forfend,”says Killian. “And what about you, can I count on you for a little flag waving? Since you’re free of your obligations?”

Emma snorts.

“That might be pushing it. David’s far more partisan than me.”

Speaking of pushing it. He can hear people approaching from the far end of the corridor and his ears are burning from the dressing down Will is bound to give him if he’s late to the dressing room and he shouldn’t and yet -

“Then how will I know you’re on my side?”

She looks at him. Wide, shrewd, knowing green eyes, and takes another step closer.

“Guess you won’t. But just in case -“

Will’s going to kill him, the press will have his guts, but Emma Swan’s lips are warm and a little bit chapped, and the whistle can wait.

—-

The equalise against the run of play with thirty seconds left on the clock.

He can’t believe it. No one can believe it. It’s been a hideous, scrappy game full of gamesmanship and frustrated revenge, and they don;t deserve to lose lie this, They don’t.

In football, as in life, you so rarely get what you deserve.

The team spend the first fifteen minutes of extra time in a fog of disbelief, the second in a haze of desperation, but it’s no good.

Penalties.

Bloody hell, penalties.

They’ve practiced, they’ve all practiced, hour after hour on the training pitch, their tactics and takers agreed weeks in advance, but nothing can prepare them for the reality.

Nothing could have prepared him for the reality.

(I’ll take it, Rob. I’ll do it.

Are you sure?

Certain.)

He’s never been less certain than he is now, but there’s no time for worrying about his nerves.

“Gaffer?”

Mills is pale but determined, water bottle clutched tight in his hand.

“You’ll be okay, lad,” Killian assures him. “Just as we’ve practiced, aye?”

“Yeah, of course,” Mills nods as though he’s never considered any other possibility. “I’m fine - are you okay?”

He almost brushes it off, but his spine is still tingling from Emma’s kiss, his knees still unsteady after twenty years of regret, and Mills is so sincere, so brave, so very, very young.

“Shitting myself, mate.” Will slaps them both on the shoulders, and the moment is gone. “Let’s do it.”

“Yeah,” Mills lets out a deep breath.

Killian may never breathe again. “Lets.”

---

The only sounds worse than the ball thudding off the crossbar are the squealing of tyres and the crunch of bone. He knows this, knows it intimately, but he winces all the same, his heart shrivelling in his chest.

We'll go on getting bad results… getting bad results….

That fucking song. That fucking song.

Mills is up again and Killian can see the pressure hanging over him, hanging over the rest of the team as they gather in a huddle at the halfway line, can feel it like a physical barrier as he toes at the edge of the area.

The ball is on the spot. In the air.

In Mill’s hands.

There’s a high pitched squealing sound as though someone is letting down an enormous balloon, and Killian just catches sight of Will falling to his knees as England step back up to the spot.

And win.

---

He eats grass while lying flat on his face beneath a mound of grown men who’ve suddenly become puppies. He mops up the tears of the devastated lad who missed because that sort of pain, that hurt, transcends all boundaries of time and language. He applauds and dances in front of a stand of sobbing fans who scrub their faces with their flags and sing that song, that fucking song, until his ears are ringing.

And then it’s dark, and quiet. And he’s alone in a stadium that reaches up to a cloudless, star-filled sky.

Well, almost alone.

Emma curls her fingers around his as she gazes up at the heavens and he in turn studies her profile, the curve of her cheek standing out against the distant chalk white of the goalposts.

And for the first time in twenty years, he dares to believe.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs crew #cs au #cs fic #clare vs writers block #world cup au #its not just a game #arty shipmates #katie_dub #for gareeeeeeeeethhhhhhhhh #this is fairly ridiculous #but i had to

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madam-lit-nerd · 6 years

Text

OK BUUUUUUUT I don’t have enough high school Destiel in my life lately, so here...HAVE SOME HIGH SCHOOL DESTIEL!

So Dean transfers to Central High School at the start of his junior year, brand new and handsome with the sharp jawline and bright green eyes, and oh-so-mysterious with those brooding stares and leather jacket.

Cas, on the other hand, has been in the county’s school system since pre-school—same classes with the same kids for so many years. There’s nothing mysterious in the least about his wide gummy smiles and bulky sweater vests, always paired with askew glasses and perpetual bed head. Which, on some people would be sloppy, but on him, it’s all kind of...adorable.

Right off the bat, Dean’s earning quite a bit of attention from guys and girls alike, all staring at him with desire or glaring with jealousy. There are, of course, a few people who immediately try to ingratiate themselves to him, but he‘s met these kinds before—they always try to wiggle their way in, bathe in that new-kid spotlight with their too-bright smiles and too-loud voices.

And yet, between all the first-day, back-to-school outfits and makeup and hairstyles, all the flirtatious smiles and overt greetings...there’s one person who stands out to oh-so-cool, mysterious Dean Winchester: the disheveled kid with the gummy smile who grins at him from three lockers away and quickly tosses out, “I’m Cas. Lemme know if you need anything!” before rushing off to his next class.

A friendly interaction that’s not too overbearing is exactly what Dean needs, and he finds himself glancing over at that locker throughout the day, hoping for another moment. Turns out that, even though he never quite catches Cas at his locker, he does see him when he walks into the last class of the day (physics).

Cas already has several other students around him, laughing and joking as they discuss their summers, but as soon as Cas sees Dean, he pats the desk behind him in invitation. Dean smiles gratefully as he settles his long frame into the small desk, surprised yet grateful for the unexpected show of friendship.

They fall into conversation easily, almost as if they’ve been friends for years. But as Dean watches Cas interact with the other students who walk into the room, he realizes that this is just who Cas is, how he actswith pretty much everyone. He’s awkward and dorky, sure, but endearingly so.

Dean finds himself admitting that he’s kind of into music and maybe it’d be fun to be involved in a band of some kind. Cas smiles widely and tells him about Chuck and his band that meet in Practice Room C almost every day after school.

“They’re no Zep,” he admits with a little chuckle, “but they’re the only band we have here at Central.”

Dean blushes and says that he’ll check them out, earning another blinding smile from Cas.

After the final bell of the day, Cas walks with Dean back to their locker block, still as easy and engaging as ever. Dean can’t help but marvel at how many people pause to bid Cas goodbye, everyone from freshmen to seniors, top-rung athletes to low-rung nerds. And Cas is just as friendly and open with each and every one of them.

Once they’ve gathered their books, Cas points Dean in the direction of the practice rooms before heading off to his own Monday-afternoon club (something about recycling, from what Dean catches). Dean does find the practice rooms and the aforementioned Chuck, along with his fellow band members Gabriel and Cain and Crowley. He hears them before he sees them, and he’s surprised at how good they are.

He doesn’t know what to expect when he knocks on the door—in fact he’s pretty surprised that he actually works up the nerve to do so—but Chuck’s already heard from Cas, and immediately invites Dean to sing along with them for the afternoon. By the end of the rehearsal, they’re blending like they’ve been doing this for years, and Dean’s got himself a vocal spot with Aborted Apocalypse.

When Dean spots Cas in the hallway the next morning, disheveled and adorable in yet another bulky sweater, he tries to thank him, but Cas just waves him off with a simple “That’s what friends do.”

And, from what Dean observes over the next weeks, Cas is just as generous with...well, pretty much everyone.

First it’s the giant football player Gordon who runs up and scoops Cas into a giant bear hug bc he finally earned a B in his history class, all thanks to Cas tutoring him in his one free hour.

Then it’s the sketchy guy Sid who usually hangs out behind the gym celebrating April 20 every fucking day, shuffling up to Cas to mutter that he’s “got the stuff in his car.” At first Dean’s taken aback, bc he can’t help but wonder if Cas, well...but then it turns out that “the stuff” is the Tupperware containers that Cas used to pack a bunch of meals when he learned that Sid’s mom was in the hospital for surgery.

Then it‘s Bela sauntering up to inform Cas that their usual girls night at the movies will need to be moved to Friday instead of Saturday bc she’s been asked out on a date.

Then it’s Becky, a freshman who stumbles up sobbing bc her junior boyfriend broke up with her to ask Bela out on a date.

Then it’s some random sophomore asking Cas for a hug and a piece of chocolate bc they failed their world history quiz. Then the frickin school counselor stops by to ask Cas to sit in on an appointment with one of his friends (a term that literally applies to the entire school, as far as Cas is concerned).

And Cas—sweet, adorkable Cas who’s involved in so many extra clubs and volunteer groups on top of all this—just takes it all in stride. Dean can’t even begin to guess when the guy studies or does his homework, but he passes in all the homework that’s due and he aces all his quizzes (at least the ones that Dean grades).

When Dean finally asks Cas how he does it, how he manages to look out for so many people while still taking care of himself, Cas just shrugs and says something about “mom friend” before offering Dean one of the cookies he’d baked over the weekend.

It’s at this exact moment that Dean realizes that he’s falling for Cas. Pretty fucking hard. It doesn’t help that they’re spending more and more time together: studying for physics, hanging out at each other’s houses, binge watching Dr. Sexy, volunteering for events with the animal shelter (Cas’s idea). Cas will even sit in on the band’s rehearsals some afternoons and hum along as Dean flashes him funny faces and flirtatious winks.

And yeah, Dean tries dropping hints here and there, flirting and gentle teasing—everything that’s worked for him in the past. But, Cas seems oblivious? Honestly, truly oblivious. Whenever Dean flirts and tries to compliment his eyes or hair, Cas deflects and makes a joke instead. The couple of times that Dean asks Cas out, it’s misinterpreted as just . . . hanging out. It’s incredibly frustrating, to say the least.

But there are so many hints that maybe Cas does like Dean back? Like the way he always smiles so openly at Dean, with his entire face lighting up every time they’re in the same room. The way he goes out of his way to talk to him and spend time with him, no matte how many other people are vying for his attention. How he attends the band’s gigs once they start playing local venues...He even befriends Sam (which is a huge deal for Dean) bc they’re both in GSA. Which, that certainly sparked Dean’s interest when he heard, but Sam had to admit that he didn’t actually know if Cas was into guys, or just an ally.

It isn’t until Bela sweeps into an Aborted Apocalypse rehearsal on a Tuesday afternoon in November and shoves her perfectly manicured nail into Dean’s chest to ask, “Why the hell haven’t you made a move on Cas?” Which surprises Dean, bc he knew that Bela and Cas were close (an unlikely pairing, given...well, them. Apparently it went back to freshman year with Cas helping Bela through some family stuff) but he didn’t know that she’d take such an active role in trying to get them together.

He offers his entire list of excuses, from “Cas is the same with me as he is with everyone else” to “I don’t even know if he’s into guys.” Bela just rolls her eyes at every single one.

It’s only when she says, “You both can make up as many excuses as you want, but everyone can see how you’re into each other!” that Dean begins to consider the possibility that Cas might actually want him back.

But he still has to be sure. “Everyone can see?” he asks around the ball in his throat. Bela nods slowly, like she’s dealing with an idiot, and as Dean looks around, he can see the rest of the guys nodding along too, all with shit-eating grins. Well, fuck.

It’s then that he has to admit that none of his usual tricks have worked. And Cas is just so fucking friendly with everybody. Dean can’t believe he, of all people, is special to Cas.

Bela just rolls her eyes and drags Dean from the room to another empty practice room. She levels Dean with a stern glare as she threatens to “disembowel you slowly with my pinky nail if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, ever.” And then she tells him about Brady.

Apparently, Cas is gay, but his last boyfriend Brady (some dickwad who attends another school across town) spent the entire relationship actively convincing Cas that they shouldn’t ever break up because no one else would ever want him. And then when they did break-up, Brady blasted Cas on all the social sites, and at one point, even vandalized Cas’s car, spray-painting derogatory, hateful slurs across every surface. So Cas is understandably hesitant about starting a new relationship because of how Brady treated him.

But, the biggest reason he won’t let himself show interest in Dean is he still believes what Brady said. Regardless of how many people love and accept him at school and at home, there’s still a tiny part that thinks that he isn’t good enough. When Dean scoffs in anger and disbelief, Bela arches a brow and spells it out: unless Dean makes it super obvious that he’s into Cas like that...well, Cas will never make that leap on his own.

As Dean is just about to head back next door, Bela calls out, “He loves the Beatles, you know.”

Dean smirks back at her, “Give me some credit, Bela.”

That weekend, when Cas arrives at the little coffee shop the guys are playing (with Bela in tow), Dean makes sure to stop at their table before the show and compliment Cas on his new button-down. When Cas smiles up at him, blushing so prettily as he murmurs his thanks, Dean can’t help but brush his fingers over the back of Cas’s hand, sharing a long, soft smile before his giddiness carries him back up to the stage.

They start with their usual set—a couple songs that the guys had written before Dean joined, a song they’d all written together, a couple popular covers—all songs that Cas has heard before. But then, the last song before the break, Dean smiles right down at Cas as he says, “This next song is for my amazing best friend, who’s loved and appreciated by so many people...including me,” he glances down shyly as he admits, “Cas, there’s no one else I could sing this to.” He looks right back up into Cas’s shocked blue gaze, “No one else who I’d want to hold my hand.”

He nods to the guys behind him, and the bass line starts to thrum as Dean sings the first, low lines:

“Yeah, I’ll tell you something. I think you’ll understand, when I say that something: I wanna hold your hand. I wanna hold your hand. I wanna hold your hand.”

The tempo picks up as the others join in. “Oh please, say to me...you’ll let me be your man. And please, say to me, you’ll let me hold your hand. Now let me hold your hand. I wanna hold your hand.”

Cas’s cheeks burn a bright red, but he can’t seem to tear his gaze away from Dean—from his sincere eyes and kind smile—and Dean can’t bring himself to look away either. Everyone else, everything else, fades away. It’s just him and Cas as he sings the bridge.

“And when I touch you, I feel happy inside. It’s such a feeling that my love... I can’t hide...I can’t hide...I can’t hide.”

As Dean sings through the final chorus, he can see it in Cas’s face—the realization and certainty that Dean is singing this just for him.

When the song ends, Dean still can’t tear his eyes away from Cas. Chuck announces a short break, but it’s all background noise to Dean as he hops down from the stage and returns to his best friend. Their shy smiles match as Dean reaches down to intertwine their fingers together. Cas slowly stands and pulls Dean into a tight hug with his free hand, unwilling to release the hands held between them.

“I really do, you know,” Dean murmurs into Cas’s ear.

Cas pulls back just enough to let Dean really see his eyes. “I know. I’ve hoped, for so long, but I just...I couldn’t tell.”

Dean scoffs. “You couldn’t tell? You, who spends so much time looking out for other people—“

Cas rolls his eyes. “Yes, the mom friend.”

“Why do you keep calling it that?” Dean wonders, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Because that’s what I am,” Cas insists. “And no one wants to date the mom.”

Dean arches a brow. “Ever heard of Stacy’s Mom? Or MILFs? Or Mrs. Robinson? Or—“

Cas cuts him off with, “I get it, I get it.” He chuckles, brushing his nose against Dean’s. “I still don’t understand it, but I get it.”

Dean’s eyes drop to Cas’s mouth. “And you get me.”

“I do?” Cas can’t help but tease, but Dean chooses to respond with something that will erase all doubts. His lips meet Cas’s, somehow gentle and fervent and kind and sincere, each giving and taking at the same time.

When they finally part, to the sound of people clapping and cheering, Dean glances down at Bela and nods once. “Thank you.”

Cas looks down at her, his eyebrows arched in surprise. “This was you?” Bela just shrugs as she looks back down at her phone with a bored expression, “I was just so sick and tired of the eye-fucking.”

Years down the road, when Dean and Aborted Apocalypse have hit it big, Cas will use his sparse free time (you know, between his full-time job as a social worker and his classes to earn his second masters degree) to go see Dean and the others perform whenever they’re nearby. And every time Cas is at one of their shows, they play another Beatles song. But they never actually circle back around to “I Want to Hold your Hand” until the night Dean pulls Cas onstage to drop to one knee and ask him if he’ll hold his hand for the rest of their lives.

So I’ve kind of had this idea floating around in the back of my head for a while now (you know, high school nerds falling in love over music). I mean, I’d heard through the grape vine that Jensen could sing, but it wasn’t until I saw this video that I realized I had to write something with musician Dean. The song “I Want to Hold Your Hand” was originally sung by the Beatles, but the version I picture Dean singing here is closer to this slow version from the Across the Universe soundtrack. Anyways, hope you enjoyed! As always, please like and share, as that is the lifeblood for us authors on here. Ok, byeeee!

#yeah i wrote something #destiel #high school au #teenager au #musician!dean #mom friend!cas #new student!dean #beatles music

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overwatch-does-stuff · 6 years

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Overwatch Discusses Their Early Life

(Remember what I said about the selection screen update? Me neither. This will be in current selection screen order.)

Offense: Doomfist's early memories are mostly involve his parents; he grew up wealthy and in a large estate. He remembers learning how to fight with his father, training in the traditional martial arts of his homeland; and his mother, who instilled him with dignity and pride, as the son of a wealthy CEO. He had to betray his parents when he became the next Doomfist; he could not be limited by sentimental values. Still, he allows no one to know how much he misses them. Genji remembers Hanzo, first and foremost. His big brother was his idol. They were inseparable. They played together, learned together, and occasionally fought, but they always made up afterwards. Oh, how the times were simple then. McCree remembers a small homestead deep in the southwest of Arizona. He remembers a family, vaguely. His ma and pa are only blurry faces now, overshadowed by the flicker of flames. He was so small when the Omnics started pouring out of Mexico, overrunning the border within weeks. What happened after is blurrier still. Pharah's memories are of Overwatch. She remembers them all: Jack, Gabe, Reinhardt, Torbjorn, Mercy, and of course, her mother. They always smiled when she came into the room. She likes to think that they were always like that; smiling and happy, untouchable by the trauma of war. Pharah knows better now, having become a warrior herself. Reaper remembers nothing. Death does not have a place where it came from. However, in between blinks, he can see it clearly. A small home in the city, always smelling of cinnamon, and an old woman, kind, telling stories of the spirits that looked over this world. In a blink, it is gone. He remembers one thing clearly, however: a barn owl means death. He touches his mask. Death walks among you. Soldier 76 remembers the farm where he was born and raised. He remembers playing with his cousins in the fields, raking hay in the barn, caring for the animals that his family raised and weeding the garden when his mom asked him to. It was idyllic, but boring, at the time. He remembers wishing for something more. That's why he enlisted when the Crisis broke out. The rest, as they say, is history. Sombra knows nothing of a family; only of bouncing in and out of foster homes. Sometimes, if she was lucky and if she played her cards right, a family might keep her for more than a couple months. But no matter how much they said they liked her, they always handed her off sometime thereafter. She learned a lesson early on: trust no one, for they never really care. Tracer was born to a wealthy family in London. Her mother and father were both former RAF pilots that met and fell in love during active duty. She remembers traveling the world for her father's business trips, seeing many places that instilled her with a sense of wonder and curiosity. She also remembers learning how to pilot; her mother helping her learn the controls, and then finally allowing her to fly for the first time. She'll never forget that moment. Defense: If Bastion could speak, it would tell you of the peacefulness and beauty of the forest that it awoke in, and a small, yellow bird that built a nest on its shoulder. It would not tell you, however, of the sound of explosions, bullets whistling through the air, some finding their targets deep within metal or flesh; of fire and blood staining what was once grass beneath its feet. Hanzo remembers his father vaguely. The man was always busy with business somewhere. When he was home, however, he was soft and kind. Hanzo then remembers when Genji was born. His father became much harder on him. Responsibility was thrust upon him. He did not want it. He has never quite forgiven Genji for that. Junkrat knows very little about his past- it never seemed very important to him in the long run, and forgetting what was before made it easier to accept what he had now. All he remembers consciously is the big blow up, flashing across the sky in full glory, that irradiated the wasteland. That giant explosion was beautiful, extraordinary. It makes him sad that he'll never see an explosion of that caliber again. Mei was born and raised in China. Both her parents worked for the government, one a news reporter and the other a specialist in utilities. She grew up hearing news of increasing energy demands and failing coal plants. She also remembers her first visit to Beijing, for her parents' jobs. The city was choked with smoke and pollution, unlike anything she had ever seen before. Through all this, she was inspired to work for the bettering of the environment. Torbjorn remembers growing up in a middle-class family in Sweden. He loved designing things from a young age: from marshmallow cannons to footstools that would unfold for you when sent down (for his mother, who passed on her dwarfism to him,) their house was always alive with his inventions. He did not like school very much, however, for his classmates always harassed him for his height and his ideas. Home was where his heart was. Widowmaker remembers very little of Amelie, and what she does know is very impersonal. She grew up in Chateau Guillard, her ancestral home. She had a mother and a father. She liked to dance. In dreams, she remembers details; dancing in the garden, sunlight streaming down her face. The sound of clapping as she finished the routine. Smiles from two people that are otherwise shadows. After dreams like this, Amelie Widowmaker must report to reconditioning. Tank: D.va was born in Seoul, the capital of what was once South Korea. She remembers glancing out her window to see the big gray walls that protected the city from the Omnic that came from the sea. She remembers the drills that were held every month; evacuation orders, stay calm and orderly, proceed to the shelters. She played videogames to get her mind off of what could happen. The digital world was her escape, a chance to fight back against the monsters. When MEKA showed her she could do the same in real life, she jumped at the chance. Orisa remembers when she first woke up. Her optics onlined to first see her creator, Efi, and the first words that she heard were that of her name. She also remembers seeing her city, Numbani, for the first time. Everything was silver or gold, and the skyline sparkled just for her, or so it seemed. Immediately she knew her purpose was to protect it. She is still in her childhood, technically, only being one month old, but she is eager to grow beyond that stage. Reinhardt remembers being the oddball. He never quite fit in with his peers with his larger-than-life personality and his penchant for the pretend. He remembers playing Dungeons and Dragons with his family on the weekends for hours on end. In school, even though his grades were not the best, he was the star of the drama club and always tried too hard in PE. And from the very beginning, Reinhardt knew that he was destined for something more than a normal life. He wasn't wrong. Roadhog doesn't remember much at all. Whether it's the radiation, or perhaps the drugs he takes for it, he doesn't know. What he does remember are the Omnics. He lived right next to the Omnium when the Crisis started. He barely remembers someone distracting the robots, allowing him to escape into the wilds of the outback. He's been on his own ever since. Sometimes it helps not to try and remember. Winston could never forget Dr. Winston, the scientist of his namesake that practically raised him. When the Dr. showed him the Earth for the first time was a particularly impressionable moment. However, things on the Horizon Lunar Colony weren't all so wonderful. Vaguely, he remembers the tests where they would electrocute him when he got the answer wrong, or the painful shots that made him so nauseated afterwards that he couldn't eat for several days. He was lucky to have Dr. Winston, who helped regulate the tests on him. The other apes were not so lucky. Zarya does not remember the Omnic crisis; she was only a couple months old when the Omnics poured out of the Siberian Omnium. What she does remember is the aftermath. Her village was devastated, and from a young age she worked repair it. This required a lot of heavy lifting, and even though the adults told her she couldn't help, she did anyway. Nearly every building in her village now has been rebuilt by her hands. Support: Ana's parents were always in and out of the house. Both of them were soldiers in the Egyptian military and were in the reserve. Her father was a war hero in the army and her mother was in the air force. She grew up target shooting and learning self defense martial arts, the former being an activity she enjoyed immensely. Her parents encouraged her to join the military when she was of age. Looking back, she wishes that she had more of a choice in the matter. Brigitte remembers entering her papa'a workshop for the first time. All the machinery looked so amazing, and she was pointing to everything and asking how it all worked. Her and papa spent several hours in there, nearly missing dinner. She remembers her first welding creations; nothing could have looked uglier, but her mamma still hung it up on the wall anyway. And, of course, she remembers making jetpack cat. Poor kitty. Lucio remembers the close-knit community of the favela he grew up in. No one had much, so everything was shared. One person had an old MP3, and they would invite everyone that could come to listen to the music that was downloaded on it. He remembers those evenings quite fondly. Things only got better when he finally earned enough money to buy a music player of his own. With the basic programs on it, he started making his own music and sharing it with his family and friends. Music helped distract them from their harsh reality, if only for a little while. No one asks about Mercy's early life, not that there's much to share. Both of her parents died in the Crisis.. She was in and out of foster homes and she threw herself into schoolwork to take her mind of things. She excelled in her classes, skipping several grades and graduating from college at younger than she should have been. One of the only highlights of her youth was visiting the Swiss Overwatch base, where she met Torbjorn and they stayed fast friends. Moira does not like to think about her childhood. Her parents were absent and the other kids in her neighborhood were afraid of her. She loved to take apart things to learn how they worked, whether that be the vacuum cleaner or the neighbor's pet frog. Her destructive tendencies aggravated most adults to the point of giving up on her, and she struggled through grade school. She learned to be self-reliant. As a result, she will do anything to satisfy her curiosity. She looks upon this as a triumph, not a mistake. Symmetra remembers what her life used to be like before Vishkar gave her a better life. It was horrible. She was always hungry and dirty, and her bed was raggedy and itchy and uncomfortable to sleep on. She does not remember a mother or a father, only distant faces screaming. Vishkar told her that her parents did not deserve her, and for the most part, she agrees. The rest of her childhood was spent at Vishkar facilities, where she saw true order and harmony for the first time, and she was at peace. Zenyatta is happy to tell you about his early life if you ask, as most people are curious about where Omnics come from. He was made in an Omnium near Numbani, one of the few still allowed to operate after the Crisis. In the Omnium there is a school set up for the newly formed, run by both humans and Omnics, and he spent several years there before he left to gain his own experience in the world. From early on he sought to define what living was about, and he journeyed his way through Asia before meeting up with other Omnics that shared his same ideas. They would become the Shambali.

#overwatch #overwatch headcanons #overwatch heroes

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naomi-owens · 6 years

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WILMINGTON TASK 002 ; QUESTIONNAIRE

ARE YOU A WILMINGTON NATIVE? IF NOT, WHERE DID YOU GROW UP? TELL US ABOUT YOUR CHILDHOOD.

The question had been one she was expecting, and one that immediately brought a faint smile to paint over her light pink lips. She was fiercely proud of her childhood; it was something she would never get tired of reminiscing — as her two parents always made sure the Owens’ children were well taken care of, and sculpted into proper human beings. “I am, yes. Born and raised over in Masonboro.” Naomi answered. “We actually have stuck around the same house since my oldest brothers were born. It’s sort of that modern, yet traditional Southern style farmhouse with daphne plants up the walkway and a really, really big backyard with a barbecue on the deck and a fire pit right smack in the middle of the yard. They struck lucky with getting the property for cheap. Fun fact, it was actually built on a apple orchard years and years back…” Naomi trailed off, swiping some loose curls from her eyes before chuckling to herself. “I can’t wait to get back into that house properly. Alex’s place is fancy and nice and all, but it isn’t the same.” Taking a moment to inhale a deep breath, lulling over the memory of her childhood home that her parents worked themselves to the bone to spruce up, Naomi sat up a bit straighter in her seat to continue. “I honestly can’t sit here and tell you how nice my childhood was because it was…incredible. It’s going to sound super unrealistic. My parents literally did everything for us and worked off their bare back. I didn’t fight with my siblings more than the usual annoying little sister who just wanted to hang out with her three older brothers. We were middle class, but my Mom and Dad worked so hard we hardly ever were aware if we might have been struggling. I went to school, got amazing grades and made amazing life long friends. My older twin brothers were star soccer players, Dominic was just lost in photography and art, and I went on to join the volleyball team, cheerleading squad, and the high school band league. We had family dinners every Thursday night, my parents made our friends feel like children of their own, we all attended church down in Forest Hills on Sunday…I don’t know, it sounds all too good to be true, but it was literally the perfect childhood. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP LIKE WITH YOUR FAMILY? DO YOU HAVE SIBLINGS? A LARGE EXTENDED FAMILY?

“They’re the worst. Seriously, I don’t know how I managed to deal with them for as long as I have…” Naomi faked the idea though was shaking her head, unable to take her own joke seriously. She loved her family far too much to ever carry on such a joke — the topic of her parents, her siblings, her aunts and uncles always brought a sudden warmth to her heart. She was cheesy in that sense, as nothing made Naomi more happy than the fact that she could honestly say she was tied with a beautiful, wholesome family with their own little whacky quirks. “Anyway, no, being serious… I’m close with everyone. It’s kind of insane how we managed with how we came to be. Quick history lesson! My Mama was actually born up near Burlington before she moved over to Wilmington in high school. My grandparents, Sofia and Ivan Burgos, were born in Burlington as well. My great grandparents on my grandma’s side, however, originated over in Ukraine before they picked a random place on the map in America, or one that was at least well established, and picked up and moved. They moved to the states when my grandmother was eighteen, and brought my grandfather with them. I actually never got to meet them, but from what I learned from my Ma, I got the sass from my great grandmother, Eva.” Naomi chuckled some more, twisting around the small cross that dangled around her neck once the topic moved to her father. “My Dad had lived here for generations. He’s the more Americanized side of my family, thus where I’ve gotten the true Southern trait, and the Owens last name. My father’s family has lived here since…God, I can’t even count. He used to tell me all these stories of my grandparents and their time in participating in those horse races, even making it to the Kentucky Derby…My Dad ended up losing his parents when he was in his twenties, a few years after my twin brothers were born, and his sister not long after that due to illness and an accident. So really, my Dad was all we ended up having from that side of the family. He did a really good job of keeping the tradition of the Southern Owens name and family alive, even if how our own little family started was a bit unorthodox…”

Naomi then exhaled a deep breath, realizing she had began to ramble a bit more off topic than necessary — but at the end of the day, she rarely got to ramble about her family’s history. It was almost like she was taking advantage of it to reminisce herself. “Anyway, my parents were both born in 1959, and they met when they were freshmen in high school. Fourteen, I believe? They both went to New Hanover. Long story short, they fell in love, got together, and somehow and some way my two oldest twin brothers came before they could even graduate. That was the seventies so… teenage pregnancy was really frowned upon way more than it is now. It just didn’t happen…especially with twins. They basically got the blessing from their parents and got married before my brothers were born, moved into a tiny apartment, and my Dad started working in construction. My Dad ended up dropping out of high school to take care of my Mom and the twins, while my Mom finished high school and got her diploma. She went on to grab a job with the county as a clerk for some politician and got lucky, because that job earned her a retirement and a pretty big chunk of change to put into our savings. It honestly still amazes me how they did it…My grandparents were very little help because of their “traditional” values.” Naomi trailed off once more, dampening her lips with the smile still evident on her features. “So basically, that’s how we came to be. Roger and Joseph were about ten when they moved into the house we have now, then my other brother, Dominic, was born, then five years later I was born.” A deep breath was exhaled from her chest when she finished her long ramble, adjusting her weight within the seat and crossing one long leg over the other. “I honestly think our history is what made us so close. You know? We’ve been through so much, we all worked so hard. We shared a loss of my Dad three years ago, we shared a childhood that was the best one we could be. Even now, when I’m living with my mom in her old age and Dominic is traveling the world, and my other two are nestled up in Forest Hills starting their careers and family, we still manage to make it work. We’re all still in contact. It’s incredible.”

DESCRIBE YOUR HIGH SCHOOL EXPERIENCE.

“Traditional,” Naomi began to laugh, before she was shaking her head and waving her hands to try to steer back to the point she was making. “And that’s not like…it’s not a bad thing. No. It’s just…you know when you watch a movie and those teenagers are literally living the perfect lives? Perfect life, big group of friends who always hung out on Friday night after a football game? That was it. That was my life, and I honestly loved it. Granted, we added our own twists and spices of our own sort, but that was it. I joined as many teams and clubs as I could to get to know people, because little Naomi Owens was stuck in her brother’s spotlight and legacy he left if she didn’t try to step out of it.” Naomi laughed, poking fun at Dominic’s popularity within her high school…especially with the female population. “I met some of the very best people of my life there, and those who are still the most important to me. I met someone I hated then, then ironically almost went on to marry.” Naomi shrugged at the thought of Tristen, though briefly recalled the time where Tristen and Jaxon spent more and more time together in the shared hallways, which resulted in her next comment. “Met someone who I still cannot stand but manages to make perfect, little babies with Alicia—, I met Amy… I met my best friend. She became my sister. I spent more and more time with people from middle school. We went to cheer camp, cheer competitions, cheered at those football games and partied at the Taylor house where we drank too much bad beer and almost got caught by the cops. We went to prom, and killed it. Had bonfires down at Wrightsville…I got good grades, I think I fell in love... I truly had the time of my life in high school. Sometimes, I honestly wish I could go back.”

WHAT WAS YOUR YEARBOOK SUPERLATIVE? WHY WAS THIS SO?

“Oh God, I got two.” Naomi laughed. “Best Eyes, and uh—, Most Likely to Brighten Up Your Day, which I think both are extremely accurate. I mean,” She then went up to playfully frame her cheeks, like she was showcasing her facial features and her big multi colored hues for the opposing person. “Plus, I’m not one to object that I can make someone’s day brighter. It is my goal, anyway. You don’t get the nickname of ‘Sunshine’ from multiple people for nothing, you know?”

WHAT DID YOU DO AFTER HIGH SCHOOL? DID YOU GO TO COLLEGE? IF NOT, WHY?

“I ended up going to University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, which is why I’m still so directly involved with their galas and the first responder charity balls. I’m a loud and proud alumni.” Naomi hummed out her answer playfully, ironically sporting the traditional colors of her alma mater, with the Carolina blue laced within her white blouse. “I went back and forth for half of my senior year on where I wanted to go. I knew I wanted to go to college, and I had the best grades I could have so I could basically go anywhere I wanted and have a great chance at getting accepted. I was in love with music, but I was more in love with the idea of spreading the knowledge and the love it could bring rather than constantly performing it, and making money off marketing my talent. So, the decision to get my teaching degree was kind of made up immediately. I loved school and the simple math and English class anyway, so why not?” She then began to laugh, tapping her manicured fingernails down on her knee. She could remember the night she applied for UNC vividly. It was after a long talk with her father on her goals, dreams, and what she wanted to accomplish. It was one of many that she had shared with that man, and one she truly had taken to heart. It resulted in her climbing out of bed to grab her laptop at two in the morning, lighting up her bedroom with the computer screen and spending the next five hours on the application that would grant her an acceptance to one of the better schools in the South…and as close to home as she could possibly get. “College, anyway, was kind of like high school. It was just a whole other ballpark. At the time life was changing, which is to be expected, but I’m not personally a big fan of change.” Athena had been gone to California by then. Rhett was up in New York, making small visits with his then girlfriend. Things had changed, people had changed drastically. She made new friends, and new lifelong friends. “I joined a sorority for a hot minute. It wasn’t my cup of tea, I ended up declining the bid I got from this girl after the week I spent there. The parties were great though.” Naomi laughed some more. “But no, it was nice. It’s where I got to know Tristen really well. I got my own apartment for the first time —, with a roommate of course, got close with Alicia (@aliciapvlmeiro) , then came student teaching, then eventually graduated with my teaching degree.”

WAS THERE AN EVENT IN YOUR LIFE THAT GREATLY IMPACTED WHO YOU ARE NOW AS A PERSON?

“There was a few, but none as deep as the next person’s.” It was a little fib that left her mouth before she was releasing a chuckle to follow to mask the mood killer, brushing back a few loose locks of hair from her eyes. “As cliche as it might be, my Dad passing a few years ago definitely shook me up. It changed my entire life. My Dad was practically my best friend and, well, his death was kind of sudden. One day he was a healthy man nearing the end of his fifties and the next we’re getting a call he suffered from a heart attack on the job site that literally killed him.” Naomi paused, forcing herself to suck in a sharp breath in order to actually get through explaining the year that followed. “The months after his final day were…hard. I’ve never seen my Mom so distraught. She was a whole other person. I can’t blame her considering her and my Dad had been in each other’s life’s for nearly half of their own, but still. Seeing your Mom like that…It’s a whole other ballpark, and it was like for at least five months my family shut down on themselves. My brothers used the excuse of their own lives to ignore the fine details that my Mom needed help with. Dominic literally fled the country to “travel” for work and Roger and Joseph…they hid themselves behind their wives for a while. At that point my Mom was hardly taking care of herself; she wasn’t eating properly, she wasn’t taking her own medication, wasn’t attending her doctor’s appointments. Moving back in with my Mom after being on my own wasn’t ideal, and it basically ruined my relationship at the time, but it was kind of a given.” Shrugging her shoulders, Naomi shook them afterwards as if she was shaking of the gloomy cloud that hovered over her whenever she talked about that year. It was hard, and took her quite a while to be able to talk about without suffering from one of her classic panic attacks. “I think it definitely shaped me into being more grateful for the little things, and living in the moment. You don’t realize half of what you have and you take them for granted more often than not.”

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE? IF NOT, DO YOU THINK THAT IS POSSIBLE FOR YOU IN THE FUTURE?

The question sort of snuck up on her, and the hammering in her chest was surely noticeable. It was an easy answer, with plenty of complicated underlying layers. She had been in love twice in her life, and both times had differed tremendously. “I’ve actually been lucky. I’ve been in love twice, and while life kind of screwed me over, it still reiterates the fact that love will forever be something to believe in. When you experience a great love not only once, but twice…you can’t help but imagine what might be in store for you next.” Naomi could still recall the very moment when she was hardly eighteen years old clad in a tiny part of jean shorts, loose blouse and drink in her hand as she danced upon the tailgate with her friends on the beach, including the young boy she had fallen for. She didn’t know it then, how could she? She hardly knew anything she wanted back then, but with the logics laid out in front of her now she knew she was very much in love. She knew so with the way it was so easy to hop down and allow her feet to carry her across the sand to the teenage boy that made her heart flutter, and throat close up to feel like she was suffocating. She knew, and it was the ultimate reason why she ended up granting him the gift of being her first — despite the fact that he never was aware of that little fact, she did date once or twice other than Rhett Sullivan, it still secretly meant something to her. It was a young love that she was sure of back then, then fizzled to the back burner once he made the grand move and time and distance forced the two to become a distant memory that could still be warm to the touch. Tristen came along years later and pulled her from the slumps, and displayed himself as a completely new person from the obnoxious teenager she despised in high school. He was older, mature, dreamy and smart. It was difficult not to fall in love with him after so much time of dating, and day dreaming about a time together when he could slip a ring on her finger and make the transition from their apartment to a house filled with kids one day. Naomi smiled at the memory, allowing herself that brief moment that wasn’t swarmed with bitterness and frustration she felt over the overall ending that came with Tristen, and instead allowed herself to reminisce the good parts in peace.

“I’ve been in love with two amazing guys, with years between them. The first was a young love, kind of the teenage dream type of thing…We never said it, we didn’t have to. He knew.” Naomi nodded, pushing her hair behind her ear once again. “And then the next grew over time. I hated that guy at first. He was everything I despised in a person for the longest time, and yet years later he matured into someone I grew to love. I swore I was going to marry that guy…” Trailing off, Naomi then shook her head. “He’s gone now. Things didn’t work out, for obvious reasons. I think he’s in Chicago now with a really good job, and even if I’m a little bitter, I hope he’s happy. He deserves it.” Her body shifted in an attempt to get more comfortable within her seat, her lips pressed together once more. “As for the future? Of course. I don’t believe anyone is limited to one or two great loves. If we’re lucky we’ll find that one right off the bat, others have to go through a few to find the one that lasts.” She couldn’t help but let her mind wander off to a taller man in particular, one she found herself kissing only weeks prior. There was an annoying and overwhelming feeling that struck her chest whenever Alex had invaded her mind, or even had been brought up. She wasn’t so sure she could go as far as to smack a label on it and call it love, as that would just be insane. It was new and scary and sort of out of her element, and perhaps that was why she was so quick to run away from it. One thing she couldn’t deny, however? It was something, and plenty had saw through her denial already. Shaking her head free from the thoughts, Naomi twisted back to face forward, licking her lips nervously. “I think it will happen for me, soon enough.”

WHEN WERE YOU BORN AND WHAT IS YOUR ASTROLOGICAL SIGN? DOES IT INFLUENCE YOUR LIFE IN ANY WAY?

“January 3rd, 1987. Freshly thirty one, baby.” Naomi joked as she playfully pumped her hands into the air, settling back into her seat before she fell out of it in laughter. “I’m a Capricorn though, and honestly? Not really. I don’t really check in with those horoscope things daily or read up on matchmaking signs and all that. There’s a teacher at my school that’s crazy into the constellations enough for the rest of us.” Naomi laughed some more, the deep laughter rooted from her belly and shaking her shoulders ever so slightly. “It’s totally weird, though. I’m not into it but I can’t deny that when I read something that’s supposed to relate to my sign, it’s accurate. Like…it’s weird, and kind of trippy.”

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE TIME OF YEAR? TELL US SOME OF YOUR FAVORITE ACTIVITIES TO DO DURING THIS TIME.

“I love summer. I love, love love summer around here. You’ve got all those shops near the ocean or at the Riverwalk opening up for the season, the weather is nice enough that you can withstand the beach for longer than a half hour, and the mood is kind of—, it’s just warm, with this orange and yellow-ey feel that’s hard to beat. Not to mention I get a whopping two and a half months off to myself to do whatever the hell I want.” Naomi grinned as she mulled over her answer. She was always happier when the sun was shining, even if she could appreciate a good rainfall that left a brisk feeling in the air and a clean slate for the ground beneath her. Summer was well on it’s way and well, Naomi was itching for it. “I kind of do a mix of things over the summer since my free time is wide open. For a few extra paychecks I teach a few classes down at the recreation center for the summer, it’s mainly teenagers catching up on credits or adults that want to try something new. It ranges from art classes, pottery classes, creative writing classes and piano lessons. Those only last throughout July and maybe take up two or three hours out of my day, so the rest is kind of bouncing around. I’ll do some shopping, spend some time amour at the lake or the beach. I’m a water baby, so if I’m not doing anything that requires clothes and shoes, I’m in my swimsuit near some body of water either messing around or lounging.” Shaking her head, Naomi then laughed some more. “Considering Alicia and I just bought a place, I actually have an excuse to actually stay the night outside of town instead of spending a pretty penny on a hotel. I’m most excited to spend some time there this summer.”

WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF IN TEN YEARS AND WHAT DO YOU HAVE HOPED TO ACHIEVE?

“Ten years down the line I’ll be forty one…wow. Let’s not think about that.” Naomi quickly shook her head free of those thoughts with a laugh to follow. “By then my husband and I will be celebrating our anniversary, or maybe even planning our wedding. Who knows? I’ll have two little girls, Charlie and Lana, with a boy on the way. I’ll be moving out of my starter home since the renovations for my new, freshly built house designed by yours truly out near the countryside of Forest Hills will be completed. I’ll be sporting the SUV when dropping my girls off for cheerleading practice. I’ll have accepted a job with the school board as the arts director for the district.” Naomi paused. She honestly thought about the question far too often, and she wondered just who would still be in her life ten years down the line. If the previous decades was telling enough, it was that people came and went even when they were the closest to you. It didn’t matter the timing, it mattered more about the direction their life was taking them in. Naomi brought her larger eyes back toward her lap with a smile stretching across her lips, examining the creamy polish on her short nails before her head was perked back up. “I’ll be happy, and that’s all I could ever want.”

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