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demonslayedher · 3 years

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Ramble on the Limitations of Looking for KnY Interpretation based on Japanese Mythology

One thing I notice a lot in the Japanese side of KnY fandom theories is a lot of deep dives into religious and mythological reasons behind Gotouge's creative choices. It is super interesting stuff, and Gotouge borrows enough and does homage to enough that there is a clearly a solid knowledge base there. While I find historical details handy for interpreting the characters, ultimately, I find that the canon of demons and Breaths can be interpreted in a vacuum without relying too heavily on the uncanny coincidences lurking in deep dives. This isn't going to be a well-supported essay, this is going to be a ramble that may include a bunch of interesting nuggets. (And then she went on to ramble for 3249 unedited words...)

First things first: I'm a nerd. I like to say I broke the weeb scale a long time ago, but I'm not exactly a university professor or anything like that. That said, I do read a lot of stuff from experts who have jumped on the KnY trends to talk about how elements in KnY are taken from, say, the sword making traditions of the Okuizumo region that results in black swords or simply making comparisons to famous swords, or local legends of supernatural encounters that resulted in split rocks, or comparing specific oni with and the heroes who slayed them or at least comparing elements of specific characters to other famous oni legends, or that Hinokami Kagura is based on a specific Shinto legend and has 12 forms based on existing Kagura traditions, etc. And I love reading this stuff, because I wouldn't had learned about some of it without my interest in KnY leading me to those articles, or as I read it I cheer because they're making references to things I already (as a nerd) really enjoy and therefore it strokes my inner echo chamber bias, or I nod along and think, "oh, yes, why of course, that makes total sense, Hinokami Kagura must be based on the dance Amenouzume performed to enticed the Sun Goddess Amaterasu out of the cave, how silly to think it could be based on anything else" but I then also take a step back to think, "...but it also doesn't have to be." For as many similarities as there to existing legends, it feels to me that Gotouge made it a point not to make specific reference to any particular mythological or religious elements. As an example, Gotouge considered titles with reference to a Shinto fire god named "Kagutsuchi" but never made actual reference to any fire god (or sun god) by name in the finalized direction canon took. Granted, a lot of fan theorists have read into that, going so far as to say because Nezuko's fire powers she represents Kagutsuchi, Yoriichi represents Amaterasu, etc., but while I find the idea of borrowed elements makes for highly interested interpretation of canon, one-to-one comparisons really don't work for this series. By not invoking a name like Kagutsuchi in the title or otherwise, Gotouge succeeded in not being boxed in by the canon of any particular deity. (Granted, "canon" for mythology can vary significantly by whatever historical writings you're looking at, with standard interpretations going through many big changes throughout the centuries. It can be as loose as it is limiting, depending on what sort of historical/mythological/religious figure you're talking about.) I feel there's more evidence of this avoidance by never invoking Amaterasu as a deity, despite the emphasis on the power of the sun in slaying demons. Even looking back and trying to figure out who Akeno placed so much faith, it was only called a "god of sunlight" as opposed to a "sun god." It's as though KnY works with a generic approach to religion. Even if the use of Buddhist element, the Nenbutsu prayer is called such, and Himejima's repeated phrases are legit Buddhist practice, but there is a huge variety of Buddhist sects and practices and theologies, and throughout history, many of them didn't get along. Going back to Akeno and wondering if she might had been Buddhist, I went so far as to suspect she was influenced by Nichirin sect philosophy based on its emphasis on the "Nichi" (sun) representing Japan and incorporating Shinto gods into its philosophy, and for its likely influence in the Kanto area in Akeno's time period, and for its encouragement for the salvation of women and therefore popularity among women. I felt pretty satisfied that it was all lining up, but also, none of this is necessary for a quality interpretation of canon. If Gotouge wanted to say specifically what informed her religious conviction, then it would had been said. But that's not what was important, was it? What was important, and therefore focused on, was Akeno's feelings toward her son and wishes for his sake.

While KnY's worldbuilding feels richer with all the clear religious influence, the details are not actually important. If anything, I feel like Gotouge dove into the heart of the elements of, say, Shinto mythology, and played those core elements up. It's different, yet still familiar, to take sun-associated elements and used them in a way that serves the story without being boxed into existing traditions. The sun is clearly important, and once you start looking for it, you find subtle recurring references to it. Like, Akeno's name? The "Ake" is one way of writing "red," and there are all sorts of uses of other ways of writing "red" throughout the series, in everything from the sand used for making Nichirin blades to the way that Haganezuka calls Tanjiro an auspicious "red" child with a very rarely used kanji. Our commoner main characters, though, just use regular old ways of saying "red" when referencing Tanjiro's appearance without thinking deeply into it, like there's something special right in front of them but they don't recognize it. Similar to how something as special as Sun Breathing was hidden right in front of them in Hinokami Kagura, with a name so generic and simple that it's entirely unsurprising that the Taisho era Kamado family would interpret it as "fire god." The very lack of limiting real-life details is what allows Gotouge to sprinkle these deep touches around, cover them up with branches and leaves, and then sit back and wait for readers to stroll through and invitingly pleasant looking field and then trip and fall down a rabbit hole. This is also what I think gives Gotouge the freedom and malleability to work with the sun in a way that serves the story, especially in ways that tie it to fire. While I don't think there's strong ties for this is general Japanese culture, the way canon is written implies a close tie between fire and the sun as being a very closely related element, hence the influence on the Kamado family, Tanjiro's appearance, his suitability for Sun Breathing based on a history of tending fire for careful charcoal burning, and Tanjiro and Nezuko capability as demons to overcome the sun. Here is where I go into a bit of a tangent about the purification element. This, again, is not strictly tied to any particular Shinto canon (and Shinto does place heavy emphasis on purification), but instead is an example of Gotouge getting to the underlying heart of a lot of common religious elements. Fire is associated with spiritual purification in everything from Buddhism to Catholicism, it's very easy to apply Nezuko's fire abilities as something which burns away something evil (demon poison) so as to purify something good (human flesh, or even other physical substances). Maybe lesser known, but very deeply entrenched in Japanese culture, is the purification element of charcoal. While it may be known around the world for soaking up undesirable elements and therefore used in everything from fish tank filters to treating food poisoning, in Japan, there's a bit of a spiritual side to it as well. For something so closely tied to the way of life for citizens throughout hundreds of years of history for everything from cooking to heating the home, it's unsurprising that quality charcoal would receive as much emphasis as good water and rice. Japanese charcoal is especially known for not producing undesirable smoke or odor, making it appropriate for use in a lot of settings. Charcoal farmers have often not just been that; they've been caretakers of the forest. Keeping the right trees, at the right sizes (both for use as charcoal and for how you pack it together when making charcoal), and in the right numbers to ensure you have stock for coming years, requires management of the forest. (Other tangent side note: many of the other names in the Kamado family are references to plants. Sumire both has the "sumi" sound of charcoal and is the word for violet, Kie is in reference to hollyhock, Nezuko is in reference to red beans (and the asanoha pattern of her kimono is in reference to hemp leaf, an

auspicious symbol of strong and quick growth), Takeo is in reference to bamboo (ironically bamboo can be a problematic plant for charcoal farmers, because it may spread too fast and take resources from other trees--stop stealing all the takuan pickles, Takeo!), Hanako is in general reference to flowers, Shigeru is in general reference to (plants) flourishing, and maybe by the time they got to Rokuta they gave up and said "he's our sixth child, let's just call him 'Six-Boy', lolz." BUT I DIGRESS.) That means the Kamado family not only had careful management of fire in the actual days of charcoal production, but of a wide variety of natural resources to ensure the trees were healthy. Natural weather phenomena, clean water, pest control, minerals from rocks getting into the soil, hmm, so many elements to pay attention to. Hmm. These sure sound a lot like other Breaths. And Breaths all stem from Sun Breathing. That means there may be certain elements of Sun Breathing that have been emphasized in each of them, but none of them encompass so many qualities of the natural world. The natural world which Yoriichi saw with such clarity than nature accepted him with open arms, practically, in how well animals took to him. Sun Breathing, while especially using that all-important purification aspect of sunlight which burns evil demons, is like an all encompassing embrace of nature. While being closely tied with fire is hugely important, there's more to it than just flames. While Shinto is very much so closely tied with nature (the extent to which this is emphasized may vary from shrine to shrine, scholar to scholar), what I see in KnY is a clever use of emphasis on spirituality in nature as opposed to emphasis on Shinto mythology. And I think that was a smart move. While stories based more directly on various theologies, mythologies, and religious ideologies often use those building blocks often wind up having very creative takes on them (even and especially with the confines of them), ultimately, the story of KnY is whatever Gotouge wants to do with it, and it does not seem guided by the specific conventions of more specific religious elements. But again, those deeper elements are still everywhere. You know what color Japanese charcoal burns? It's a gorgeous jewel tone red, spanning many of those rare shades of red Gotouge make reference to. And, in wider Japanese culture, red is the color of the sun (as opposed to how other cultures may represent it as yellow or orange or white or so on). (Not as exactly a KnY tangent, just personal: Japanese charcoal is so freaking pretty, I had no idea until I saw it used in the tea ceremony at parts when guests crowd around to enjoy the sight of it as the host prepares it for boiling the water. I can stare and stare and stare, it is so so so so so pretty, but also this element of the ceremony has gotten rarer both as many places have made a more practical switch to electricity, and tea ceremony quality has gotten more rare both due to fewer producers and due to beetle-related damages to the trees used, and I will always state HOW DISAPPOINTED I am that Kanata and Sumihiko are not out there raising charcoal, because charcoal is precious and I'm always so terrified of wasting charcoal in my practices because its so precious, but seeing the amazingly beautiful burn of the charcoal is absolutely one of my favorite elements of the ceremony and this of course gives me an extra soft spot for Kamado Tanjiro BUT I DIGRESS AGAIN, I TOLD you this was going to be a ramble, but SERIOUSLY IT IS SUCH A GORGEOUS RED).

So anyway. My point is, as interesting as incorporating outside elements may be, I don't find them necessary in interpreting KnY's canon. Even if it takes tons of Taisho Secrets to do so, Gotouge presents the details necessary, and that's more than enough to work with. After all, despite all the care taken in historical details in building the setting, KnY takes place in a fictional universe, it can make its own rules when it comes to things that don't actually exist in our universe. Demons, for example, follow a chronology and power system with sources and limits that is unique to a this universe, as tempting as it is due to general cultural familiarity, it does not call for a one-to-one comparison with existing demon legends. Breath as well, as a power system, is very interesting. Again, this is because it has a lot of basis in core concepts of real life physical and spiritual training. It's presented as a method available to anyone who can pick it up, not drawing on a mystical outside power or summoning the actual superhuman elements of nature. Other stories that present their power systems like that are well and fine, but when it comes down to it, this is a story about mere humans doing everything in their limited power to wave swords around and defeat creatures that seem so likely to outpower them. This is a common, relatable basis of stories throughout history, and a lot of analysis I've heard of KnY's success says that it shows how classic this story structure is. Many Japanese demon stories have their origin in epidemics, and some people suggest that the world looks for hope in stories like KnY in times of seemingly insurmountable crises like coronavirus. I think that's an oversimplification of KnY's success, but again, because of Gotouge's use of core cultural elements, it can be applied easily. OKAY BUT ON THAT NOTE we can do some really interesting digging if we want. : D Gotouge does make some highly specific references, included religious ones (granted, not in ways that impact the plot). The example coming to mind is the Seventh Form of Thunder Breathing, the "Flaming Thunder God." In Japanese, this is "Honoikazuchi-no-Kami," the name of a lightning deity who had a very, very brief mention in the Kojiki and who appeared among a handful of other lightning deities named in reference to other aspects/phenomena of lightning, like the sound or the rumble through the ground. Honoikazuchi is not so much the lightning itself, but the fires started by lightning. Stick with me a bit longer, I'm building up to something here. You've probably heard of the twelve animals of the Chinese (poorly translated as) Zodiac, right? Well, the system is way more complex than that, and really, if you want complexity, skip Japan and go dive straight into ancient China. I laugh and cry at myself for having a graduate degree in Chinese studies, the extent of my knowledge is is pitifully small, I know nothing, nothing. Suffice to say, China has its own five element system of water/wood/metal/fire/earth, it's more a philosophical application than a more physicality-based four element system popular in the west (fire/water/air/earth, why hello there, Avatar), with attributes of these elements assigned to every about anything through Chinese culture, from medicine to, you guessed it, the Zodiac animals. Japan saw all this and said "cool, we'll do that too" albeit their sort of mixed and matched a bit and made their own take on it in Onmyodo. An Onmyoji, who keeps track of, like, really any other-worldly matter you might have on your hands as a Heian noble, is someone who is paid to know all this stuff (it was very likely an Onmyoji who told the Ubuyashiki clan, "yeah, you got an evil family member to blame for your curse, squash him"). Yours Truly is not an Onmyoji and therefore will not attempt to go into more detail, save the one that a handful of Japanese theorists in the KnY fandom love to bring up: The Boar is a water sign. This means that, especially in Shinto practice, boars are considered an animal that protects against

fire, hence, a lot of practices to protect against fires were done on days of the Boar, in the month of the Boar, etc. So? So-o-o-o-o-o? You see it? You see it??? Boar = Water, Honoikazuchi = Fire, Inosuke and Zenitsu are basically foils to Tanjiro? Yes, yes, see it, yessss??? Deep dive Kamaboko theory, yes?????? Hahahaha. Naw. It's just a fun coincidence. ^_^ Again, I find these details completely unnecessary, for we are already given so many details in canon to work with on its own, and I think Inosuke and Zenitsu as foils to Tanjiro works entirely well simply based on their personalities, not because of any supernatural elements that require a high level of nerdery to have any hope of appreciating. Besides, once you start reaching too hard for cultural details Gotouge might have used and clinging too tightly to those ideas, there's likely something in canon to make it doubtful. For instance, Inosuke more widely presented as a king of the forest who wears deer and bear hide as well, and the fanbook state that Beast Breath is considered a likely offshoot of Wind Breathing. Even if we rely more strictly on historical detail, there's still the question of, say, what one of the basic Breaths, Thunder Breathing, even was when it was but a thunder inspired sword form not necessarily powered by Breath, you know, back when swords were longer and it would have been harder to make the fast draws katana would later be better suited for. Maybe they called it Thunder because it was practiced by swordsmen who stomped around really hard, and then when they added Breath technique, they figured out "oh dude, we can use our strong legs to go fast"??

Those are the kinds of things I find more fun to play around with in interpreting canon by bringing in little outside details, because as a work of fiction, there are already so many fun details to work with already even when treating it in a vacuum. But, giving Gotouge extensive and subtle use of cultural elements, especially core elements, it sure makes a lot of outside details applicable. Which is all to say, it's all super interesting, and I think the more people realize these things, the deeper they read into it, to an extent more than canon calls for. As much as I like it, and as much as I've enjoyed pulling outside elements in to fanfiction (like Kagutsuchi and lightning god tidbits), ultimately, if Gotouge thought these things were necessary, they'd have been included. Since they are not, I try to stick to canon details and Word of God-touge in answering Asks (lolz, I didn't plan on becoming a meta blog, it just kinda happened). BUT ALSO, JEEZ, I AM SO EXCITED IF PEOPLE TAKE A DEEPER INTEREST IN JAPANESE CULTURE BECAUSE THEY LIKE KIMETSU NO YAIBA, YOU CAN HAVE SO-O-O-O-O-O MUCH FUN PLANNING A TRIP TO JAPAN AROUND KNY THEMES, DO IT DO IT DO IT, GO TO YAGYU AND POSE IN A TANJIRO HAORI AND STICK YOUR SWORD IN A SPLIT ROCK, THE LOCALS THERE LOVE IT, DO IT but also like maybe learn about the tea ceremony and appreciate how beautiful the charcoal is with me k thx bye

#kny fandom theories and meta #sooooorta #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #am I a Pillar or a Demon?#neither #I am but a nerd

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aeondeug · 3 years

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So while I was reading GtN and HtN I occasionally stopped to be like “Wow, it’s great how these can be just so gay!” And like. That is really great. Super great. I love that about them. But I also remember at least once stopping and going “Wow, it’s great that there’s no homophobia here!” And like at the time I just kind of nodded along to myself. Around when I just finished GtN, I remember being very fond of the bit after the book with like the guy explaining like. The deal with necro/cav relationships in The Media and throughout history and how actually none of these things have ever been romance. This is just a pure relationship, unaffected by naughty things like ROMANCE. WHY DOES EVERYTHING NEED TO BE ROMANCE?! shouts the author of this paper. And I laughed at this. Because it reminded me a lot of people who do this shit with queer love. They do it with history and just go “Why does Sappho have to be gay, why can’t she just have passionate feelings for her BFFs”. Which is mindbogglingly stupid to me and anyone who has so much as LOOKED at some of the poem fragments. But like people do say that shit. And they do this a lot over like queer anything in fiction unless it like punches you in the face with rainbows immediately. “Why do Bubblegum and Marceline have to be gay? They’re just friends!” is a take that I legitimately saw on the day of the finale. And not just once. I saw it a few times. And I’ve seen that happen over so many ships in so many things, whether or not the ships end up canon. “Why does it have to be gay?�� and the specific sort of outrage over it I’ve seen in essay length posts is just common, and that sort of outrage reads very similar to the argument that dude made about necro/cav relationships. It reads like that and close enough so that I made a joke about it even. I didn’t think too, too much on this at first though because I mean. We have Abigail and Magnus. They’re right there. A man and a woman, a husband and a wife. So like I was able to simultaneously go “omg it’s just like those why can’t they just be friends WHY DOES IT NEED TO BE GAY people” and also “wow it’s nice that there are spooky negative queer experiences of SADNESS here”. Which has got me thinking. Ok. So we have that essay. Now what else do we have in the books? I suppose could point at the entirety of Gideon and Harrow’s just furious refusal to admit that they might actually be in love with one another. Even though it appears to be obvious to literally everyone else in the galaxy. And is obvious to the readers. Hell, Gideon even has a moment of feeling like she needs to tell Harrow something the day before she dies. Something which is heavily romance coded, I don’t know the word for it. But like a “Wow I feel a need to tell them something and it’ll be my last shot” before a death just kind of always reads “It was an ‘I love you’. They needed to say it and didn’t get a chance”. So we’ve got that and, specifically, we’ve got their outrage at the suggestions. Gideon stresses that she’s JUST Harrow’s cav. And she’s very fucking insistent on that. Part of the why is that she knows Harrow is in love with a fucking dead girl in a casket but like. It just hits a certain way. There’s also Harrow’s just repeated disgust she expresses towards the concept of necro/cav relationships. She needs to explain away to herself that like, well, Abigail and Magnus were ALREADY married before he was named her cavalier primary so maybe that makes it fine. And even then she’s not like super duper comfy with the idea. A taboo has been broken, Harrow feels, and she needs to get really rules lawery to find any comfort with that. Other small things that feel of note to me here are the nature of the ways we know that these two are gay outside of like. Their weird thing for one another. With Gideon we’re introduced to it basically immediately with her joke about titty mags. Harrow specifically makes a comment at some point that some of the magazines Gideon gets are very gross, yes. Her interest in women is explicitly made sexual from the get go, and the idea that The Gays are just weird sex fiends and there is no love there is a frequent one. With Harrow meanwhile we know because she says she’s in love with the girl in the Locked Tomb. Who is very much dead. A thing that is fucky enough that like there is an entire song and dance about “GIDEON THE FIRST IS MAKING OUT WITH A CORPSE??????” and how Harrow is a hypocrite for being so offended by that all. Also the girl is behind the door. She is something that isn’t supposed to be seen or known about or, heaven forbid, woken up. That is all the ultimate taboo and Harrow not only fucking broke that but she looked at the girl and went “Wow I’m in love” on the spot. So we have this collection of things that could be read as some sort of metaphor for like...The taboo nature of queer love. “Why can’t they just be friends?” and issues of purity and the lack thereof. And we have characters who are very clearly in love but who can’t just admit that because they think there’s something fucking wrong with that. Gideon’s JUST her cav and Harrow is also in love with a dead chick. We also have Magnus and Abigail around who are just like. Happily married and fine with things regarding their whole necro/cav aesthetic. Ianthe doesn’t seem to give a shit that Gideon’s into Harrow at all. There’s a fondness for necro/cav relationships enough that there’s an entire romance genre centered on them and like characters in the cast are fond of those, some of them. Things appear to be Fine, at least as far as their friends are concerned. Maybe the asshole writing the essay that kicked this pondering off would have an issue and a stuffy old grandma would pitch a fit. But like their friends don’t have a problem with necro/cav shit. But we still very much have Gideon and Harrow being “Well no. We’re just a necromancer and their cavalier. GOD.” Now part of what got me thinking about this is that I recently decided to start watching Bly Manor. Because fuck it we haven’t yet. And specifically part of why is I remember seeing an analysis of it done by Rowan Ellis which had this bit where like the argument that “Bly Manor proves you can do queer stories without homophobia being a part of it!” is brought up and like...Ellis is like “Ok but we very much do just lock a queer woman in a literal closet while she screams to be let out”. And lo and behold in the first episode we very much do just lock a queer woman in a literal closet while she screams to be let out. In an episode showing that she’s like just unable to go back home for...some reason. And that she has some sort of difficulty with her relationship with her mother. No, the show is not having the character literally go “Wow I sure am in the closet and I kind of fucking hate that woe is me I am so gay”. But figuratively? It’s all over the place in that first episode. I’m not sure about the others because I haven’t watched them, but it is there in the very first one. And that’s something horror does very well. It takes things that are scary and uncomfortable and bundles them up in shades of metaphor. It hides them from you by showing you the thing cleverly disguised. Maybe you do not notice it the first time through perhaps. Maybe you felt that a certain thing like the closet scene resonated very hard with you and you’re not sure why. But you perhaps don’t consciously go “Aha! It is the horror of being closeted!” Upon looking back on it or back through it though you might notice it. And be like “Oh that was there. Holy fuck.” Now maybe you’re also someone who isn’t like. Comfortable. With straightforward depictions of specifically queer suffering. Maybe it’s just too scary. But with this show hiding it in a metaphor you got to sit through that. You got to be brave enough to sit through a very, very scary thing. And afterwords you go to think about it. This is the power of metaphor and it’s something horror has been very, very good at doing for ages. Maybe racism or homophobia or whatever else is too nerve wracking for you to look at face on in media, but maybe you can watch a movie or a show where the horror of those things are very much there but cloaked in metaphor. And so maybe we are getting that with Gideon and Harrow’s weird issues around how “taboo” their feelings are. Two people who are just unwilling to believe that it might be that thing, in part because that thing is “taboo”. Except instead of the taboo being literally “They’re lesbians, Harold,” it’s instead cloaked in a comforting metaphor of necro/cav relationships and some dude who is really fucking offended at people’s space ao3 fanfictions about his historical favs. Which is important because every fucking scrap of anything one gets is an argument. It can’t just be that they’re in love. It’s that you must PROVE it and some asshole with a degree or just a bone to pick is going to come by and be like “WHY CAN’T THEY JUST BE A NECRO AND A CAV” about it all. And like I’m someone who’s known they’re into other women for a long while now. At least half my life. We have conquered that hurdle. But we haven’t entirely unpacked all the weird little societal bullshit that is still in there. Hiding. Lurking. And that societal bullshit specifically frames that sort of love as something gross and taboo and “Why Can’t They Just Be Friends?”. With that last thing hurting a lot. I’ve constantly run across people going “Why can’t they just be friends?” or going “They just have a sisterly relationship!” about things I shipped. Even when those things involved shit like the characters kissing on screen or mentioning that they’ve been dating in a sequel series. I can’t simply like my ships. I can’t simply see myself in romance. Because my sort of love is so taboo that it is, in itself, a debate. Maybe being shown the thing cleverly disguised as another thing might help me unpack that. At the very least it helps me look at it. When it’s something that hurts a lot to this day.

#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #spoilers #this is a bit painfully long #but i have FEELINGS about uncomfortable things being hidden in metaphor #and that metaphor being the thing that helps you be brave enough to look at it

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cocos-cocoapuffsarenotforsale · 4 years

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Not Him~~Part 5

MASTERLIST

Part 4

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader

Warnings: Protective!Bucky, Dad!Tony, Takes place during Captain America: Civil Ware, Pregnant!Reader, fainting, swearing, CANON DIVERGENCE!

Taglist: @chewymoustachio

A/N: Hey guys, I finally updated Not Him! I am planning on writing one more part (an epilogue). Let me know if anyone wants to be added to the taglist (or removed). Sorry if you have already asked, it’s been a while and I’m having some difficulties with finding it. Hope you all enjoy the update!

---Xoxo Courtney

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“This place is amazing!” You exclaim in awe. You hear a small chuckle and turn to see a teen girl watching you with an amused look on her face.

“Sorry,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. Of course, this girl was used to all this technology and probably thought you were an idiot.

“No worries, it is amazing after all.” She said giving you a sympathetic smile.

“Shuri, can you gather the healers, please? I have a new assignment for them.” T’Challa requests, the girl, Shuri, nods her head and quickly exits the room.

“The healers should have some ideas on how to remove whatever it was that HYDRA put in Mr. Barnes’s head,” T’Challa explains, leading the three of you towards a sitting room.

“Just Bucky please,” Bucky requests, he always got uncomfortable by being addressed by his last name. That was something you had learned almost immediately after meeting him.

“Thank you for all of this Prince T’Challa,” you say grateful for all his help.

“Please, call me T’Challa. And after all, it’s the least I could do for you. I am honored to be able to help you. You may stay in Wakanda for as long as you would like. I am already working on having you all exonerated of any so-called crimes. And I am working to have the UN pull the Accords. I have seen first hand the damage they can do. It is not worth it. I agree with the Captain now, the safest hands are our own.” He replies with a kind smile.

“As soon as we get Bucky sorted we’ll be off. We don’t want to put you out more than we already have.” You assure him, thankful for all that he has already done, and is continuing to do for you.

“It’s really no trouble.” He promises as Shuri walks back into the room, followed by a group of what you assumed to be the healers.

“We will need to examine you, Mr. Barnes-” says the women in the front of the group. She must be the Chief Healer.

“Bucky. Please,” He corrects, she nods a small smile forming on her face.

“We will need to examine you, Bucky,” she corrects. “But if what I am told is true it should be a rather simple fix.”

“A simple fix?” You repeat in disbelief.

“Yes, in Wakanda we have very advanced technology and medicine. This is something we have encountered a couple of other times in our history. We took in a few ex-HYDRA agents, after a failed invasion about ten years ago. It was a little tricky to figure out at first. But once we did we were able to have them all rehabilitated in about 6 months.” She explains, puffing out her chest every so slightly in pride.

“So much for the poor, developing nation, huh?” Steve mutters with a grin, making T’Challa smirk.

“That was an old policy. We were very isolationist historically. We feared invasion and having our resources stripped from us. Now, however, that is changing. I intend to open Wakanda up to the rest of the world, my father had been heavily considering it before his passing.” T’Challa explained.

“Bucky, are you ready for your examination?” The Chief Healer asks, getting you all back on track. Bucky looks to you, uncertainty, and fear in his eyes. You give him a reassuring smile and a small nod of encouragement.

“Yeah,” he agrees, standing up and following her and the rest of the Healers out of the room. You watch him leave and you feel your chest seize in fear. What were they going to do to him? Was he going to be ok? You unconsciously begin biting your lip and pacing.

After a few minutes of this Steve steps in to try and soothe you. “Y/n, it’s going to be alright. Bucky is strong, he can handle himself. Besides they are going to take excellent care of him.” Steve promises, gripping your shoulders gently with his hands.

“Wakanda has the most advanced medicine and technology on Earth. Our Healers are excellent, you have nothing to fear,” T’Challa assures you with a kind smile. You nod in agreement but still feel your knees buckle and the blood leave your face. The last thing you see is both Steve and T’Challa sending you worried looks before it all goes black.

————————————————————————

“I’m gone for ten minutes and she passes out?!” You hear a familiar voice shout accusingly. Your eyes flutter open and you turn your head towards the voice. Finding Bucky pacing, his hands running through his hair, one of his nervous ticks.

“Buck?” You ask, your voice still drowsy.

“Doll, you’re awake!” He exclaims rushing towards your side.

“What happened?” You ask, feeling confused. The last thing you remembered was Steve and T’Challa trying to ease your worries about Bucky.

“You passed out Doll,” Bucky replies, cupping your face in his hand, his eyes searching yours for any remaining problems.

“Why?” You ask still confused about the situation.

“Do you remember the last time you ate?” Shuri asks you and it’s then that you notice you are no longer in the sitting room. Instead, you are in what looks like a futuristic hospital room.

“Maybe before we left for Siberia,” you guess unsure. You had been a little busy lately, you hadn’t exactly been paying attention to eating.

“Before Siberia?!” Bucky choked, looking pale and distressed at your answer.

“I’ve been a little busy Buck,” you remind him in a teasing tone, hoping to lighten the mood. Which apparently doesn’t work because Bucky just glares at you. Looking around the room you see T’Challa and Steve watching you carefully, worry covering their features, and Shuri who is giving you a disapproving glare.

“You need to be more careful Miss Stark. In your condition, it is inadvisable to skip meals. If anything you need to increase the amount of food you are eating.” Shuri reprimands you.

“I know, it’s just been a little tough to remember that lately.” You concede with a sigh.

“Then I’ll help you from now on,” Bucky vows, his voice serious.

“How did your exam go?” You ask trying to change the subject.

“I know what you’re doing,” he smirks.

“Is it working?”

“For now. But we are going to talk about this along with some other things later.” He promises and you scrunch your nose at the thought. He chuckles at you before continuing, “They said they can start treating me whenever I’m ready, it should be anywhere from 3-6 months of intensive therapy.”

“When are you going to start?”

“Tomorrow,” he replies, a look of excitement crossing his face.

“So soon?”

“I want this thing out of me as soon as possible. Especially if we’re gonna have a little one around.” Bucky explains, placing his flesh hand on your still bumpless tummy.

“I love you Bucky,” you whisper, pulling his head down to yours, pressing your forehead against his.

“I love you too Doll,” Bucky replies before softly pressing his lips against yours.

————————————————————————

Epilogue

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blackjack-15 · 4 years

Text

Puttering Around — Thoughts on: Secret of the Old Clock (CLK)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas.

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: CLK, CUR.

The Intro:

In our next Jetsetting game, Nancy travels back from Modern-Day England and straight into 1930s Titusville (aka River Heights 70+ years ago) to help an acquaintance who’s in the middle of two unrelated plots to turn Titusville upside down.

A game famously reviewed as “pleasant but inconsequential”, Secret of the Old Clock tends to be passed over for both praise and censure, famous for two minigames (the sewing minigame and the mini-golf) but otherwise overlooked. It’s a shame, really, that it’s sandwiched in between two much flashier games, as CLK is a wonderfully solid entry into the Nancy Drew series. It pioneers the two-culprit variation on the standard Nancy Drew plot, tackles a new time period, and includes dozens of in-jokes towards the Nancy Drew books.

It’s also the first introduction of Carson Drew as a phone character, which is a lot of fun, and makes sense that he’d show up in the game that includes nods to all things canon. He doesn’t show up again until much later in the series, so it’s nice to introduce him here after hearing about him for 12 games.

As opposed to CUR right before it, CLK takes care to ground itself in a linear plotline, handling its story with relative ease and taking care not to reach too far out of the box. This is one of its greatest strengths, and provides a much better game overall because of it. It’s a simple story, pretty well told.

Though it doesn’t stand up to other more “simple” games before it such as CAR or DDI, it never reaches any of the lows of SCK, FIN, or CUR, and allows the player to be sucked in to its fantastic facsimile of life in the 1930s for teen sleuth Nancy Drew — blue roadster and all.

The Title:

As CLK is a mixture of the first four Nancy Drew books, it retains the title of the first book. As a nod to the history of Nancy Drew, it’s a great choice for the title.

Unfortunately, though the Old Clock does appear and hold secrets, it’s just not prominent enough to deserve the title that it holds. The other three books — The Hidden Staircase, The Bungalow Mystery, and The Mystery at Lilac Inn — are other options, and The Mystery at Lilac Inn would have been the most appropriate title. It doesn’t have the immediate name recognition, which is why they didn’t pick it, but it really is much better and encapsulates the game much better, as the game revolves around the Mysteries that are tied to the Inn.

That’s all I really have to say about that, so onto the mystery!

The Mystery:

Nancy Drew is summoned to the Lilac Inn to help Emily Crandall, the friend of Nancy’s friend Helen Corning, who needs to put her recently deceased mother’s jewelry into a safe, and figures that Nancy’s father would have one.

If it sounds to you like a simple, if slightly contrived premise, then you’d be right.

Once Nancy gets there, however, she finds out that Emily is cracking under the pressure of running an Inn, that her guardian Jane Willoughby isn’t as much help as she should be, and that Emily and her mother were depending on money from Josiah Crowley’s will, which mysteriously only included his recent ESP teacher, Richard Topham, rather than the Crandalls and the local banker.

From there, things go from bad to worse as the inn’s kitchen catches fire, Emily’s jewels are stolen (and partially returned), and voices in the walls start manifesting — not to mention the fetch quests around Titusville that Nancy is sent on and the ridiculous Richard Topham hiding everything about himself other than how pompous he really is.

Nancy soon figures out that this mystery is two-headed, with one side revolving around the Inn itself and the other around Josiah Crowley’s real — and missing — will. Our villains catch on too, however, and Nancy has to race against their suspicion to expose the frauds, discover hidden secrets and identities, and solve the Secret of the Old Clock.

As a mystery, this one really is quite good for its time. Dual villains, each unconcerned with the other, hidden inheritance, Shakespeare references — it’s got it all. Though Jim Archer lets it down a bit in his sheer nothingness, and it functions as a howdunnit with a weird whodunnit beginning, CLK is solid ground after the incredibly shaky mystery in CUR, and it’s a lot of fun to play through.

The Suspects:

Emily Crandall is our protagonist and resident watering pot of CLK who spends the game moping and being Generally Unhelpful. Her mom’s death notwithstanding, Emily’s stressors are the Inn, her lack of money, and her fake-guardian making her think that she’s crazy.

So maybe her total lack of common sense in wanting to call in Nancy because Nancy’s bound to have a safe at home is a result of copious amounts of mental stress. One can only hope so, as by her next birthday she’s the legal owner of the Inn.

Emily actually would have been interesting as a villain, but she, like Jim, just isn’t enough of a presence in the game — which stands out since she’s the closest we’ve got to a main character! She cries a lot, she sits a lot, and that’s about it. She would have had to be a misguided villain, convinced that her guardian (who would have had to actually be Jane Willoughby) is after her fortune…but HER still isn’t up to that level yet, and it’s probably better that they went with a story they can tell wholly and mostly convincingly.

Honestly speaking, Emily, being as she is, is a more successful Linda Penvellyn, which I don’t actually think is unintentional. She’s being harassed and abused by someone who’s basically a family member but is still largely unfamiliar to her, the tie to her remaining family is gone (though Emily’s mother is dead, unlike Hugh Penvellyn), and she is being gaslighted to believe that she’s crazy.

Emily was allowed more agency, more screen time, and more pity by the writers and creators, and because of that, her situation with her Evil Jane is far more obvious to the average player, and she’s treated with far more sympathy than Linda historically has been by the fandom (though recent fan discussion has begun trending in Linda’s favor, which I think is wonderful and fantastic).

Jane Willoughby is, of course, not Jane Willoughby after all, but actually Marion Aborn, proving that identity theft in the 30s was as easy as…well, saying that your name was someone else’s name.

An acquaintance of the actual Jane Willoughby and a petty thief, Marion intercepted the letter about Gloria’s death and Jane’s status as Emily’s guardian and decided to try to cash in on potential cash by tormenting Emily until she signed over the Inn. Exploding the kitchen, stealing Emily’s jewels, and attempting to make the girl think that she was crazy to make her sell the Inn before her 18th birthday (after which Marion would receive no profits).

As one of two culprits, Marion is the more “subtle” culprit and has the more complicated background, but is also the one you have to deal with the most, and thus suffers slightly from being in the spotlight (and thus showing the obviously evil side of her) a little too much. As this game isn’t really concerned with its culprits as a centerpiece, however, Marion’s antics fit right in.

Marion also gets points for being a much more intelligent abusive culprit (contrasting Jane), working hard to make Emily think she’s crazy with a clear goal in mind and even going as far as stealing, then partially replacing, Emily’s jewels to really hammer home the idea that the girl wasn’t mentally well to others — and to Emily herself.

Richard Topham is a self-proclaimed ESP expert and everyone-else-proclaimed dick who ended up somehow being the beneficiary of Josiah Crowley’s will, despite his spoken intentions to leave it to the Crandalls and Jim Archer. He also has a very obnoxious cat named Uri, voiced by a lovely cat named Carl (though I bet you were expecting me to say Jonah Von Spreecken — never fear, he shows up as the Tubby Telegram guy!)

Richard is our other culprit, guilty of falsifying Josiah Crowley’s will when no one could find the original, leaving most everything to himself rather than to the Crandalls or Jim Archer as Josiah wanted. A slight throwback to the 1920s obsession with spiritualism that itself was a post-war reaction to massive death, Richard is as sleazy as they come, testing Nancy for an “inferior mind” and taking advantage of every situation in order to come out on top.

As a culprit, Richard’s technically the one with the bigger crime, but is overshadowed by the plotline with Emily and Marion and is thus a little forgettable, even though it was his actions that started this whole mess in the first place.

Finally, Jim Archer is the local banker who’s not having too good of a time during, well, the Great Depression, where hundreds of banks (and dozens of bankers’ hearts) failed. Promised a boon by Josiah Crowley, he, like Emily, is left in the lurch after the false will was presented. Jim was also a fellow student with Carson Drew at law school, but turned to banking as a career instead.

Despite his office being the location where Nancy finally figures out the mystery of the titular Old Clock and where she discovers that “Jane” is actually Marion, Jim really doesn’t have much to do in this game. He gives Nancy the dreaded sewing minigame and reminds the player that the stock market crash was a recent event, but other than that has very little impact.

Jim would have been a poor choice for a villain — he just doesn’t have the personality or impact necessary — as the only storyline readily available would have been him doing Dirty Deeds to keep his bank afloat…except for the fact that if he were a villain, his bank would have been doing fine, with no need for the will anyway.

The Favorite:

My favorite moment in the game, odd as it might seem, is the CB radio conversation-slash-puzzle. It’s so rare in these pre-Nik games that we actually get to see the lives of those not really related to the case/mystery and get a sense for the world spinning on despite the incident, and this is a great example of that done right.

Like the “freezer moment” mentioned in my Danger on Deception Island meta, this moment where Nancy can see how Josiah Crowley’s life has impacted people for the better, rather than the main game where so far his death has made everything worse. It’s a wonderful moment, and honestly the game is worth replaying on the merit of that alone (though there are many wonderful things about it).

My favorite puzzle is getting down into the secret passage (and all of the puzzles within the passage). It’s a ton of fun to find hidden passages that aren’t full of Deadly Traps or human remains, and the whole Creepy’s Corner puzzle is delightfully campy and awesome.

The best location in the game by far is the carriage house, where the aforementioned conversation takes place. Beautifully lit, nicely hidden away in stages, and the only place that doesn’t feel like a 1960s set of a 30s period piece.

I love this game as homage to the original Nancy Drew titles; though they’re changed somewhat to suit both a video game style and the take on the original canon that the video game universe took (such as making Nancy’s mother’s death at 10 as it was originally, which was the smartest move they’ve ever done).

Video-Game-Style Nancy’s far more like her original 30s version than the sanitized, “fashion-ized” version in the 60’s rewrites — a fact that becomes more and more clear as the series goes on — and it really does show here, as cowboy-cop Nancy wrangles not one but two crooks.

Speaking of, the last thing that I’ll mention in this section is the fact that there are two different culprits, each uncaring of the other. In a game series that was originally only supposed to be 12 games long (meaning CLK would be the last one), this is a delightfully fresh take and it makes untangling who did what a lot of fun and makes CLK different from most games before it.

I’ll talk more about this in later Nancy metas, but the shift from “one crime, one culprit” to a more “spread the guilt” approach really makes the games go up a level or two in enjoyability and in complexity, and CLK is a great example of how just having two culprits really makes the game much more fun to play around with.

The Un-Favorite:

All of that being said, there are some things in CLK that I really don’t love.

The sewing puzzle is honestly the worst; it’s hard with a mouse and nearly impossible with a trackpad, it’s tedious, and it doesn’t matter for the rest of the game, which is probably the worst part given how much effort it takes. It’s a puzzle for a puzzles’ sake, and doesn’t tell us anything we don’t already know (we know Jim’s not doing well; we know it’s the Great Depression, etc.), not to mention not rewarding the player nor Nancy for the effort.

My least favorite moment in the game would have to be Nancy’s first encounter with Richard Topham. Nancy’s autonomy is usually respected in both the 30s original drafts (less so in the 60s re-writes) and in the games, and Richard’s comments about lesser minds and his little test are, even with Nancy’s snarky comment about him in her diary, frankly out of place.

They don’t serve as a “relic of the times”, they don’t make us hate Richard more than we would have for stealing money from people who are literally drowning in bills and debt…and as much as the Nancy Drew books and character are feminist rather than Feminist, it’s honestly not great to have both his ‘clients’ during the course of the game be women that he treats the way he does.

It wasn’t necessary to have him behave the way he does, it contradicts the Spiritualist movement (which was most popular among women to a startling degree, and male Spiritualists tended to treat their female clients very well because that was the bulk of their clientele), and it doesn’t tell us anything new about him, because Nancy and the players already know he’s a fake and a blowhard.

The Fix:

So how would I fix Secret of the Old Clock?

The first and biggest fix I’d make is to include a strong storyline about Spiritualism. As noted several times above, Spiritualism was a huge force in the 1920s, and a period piece set in the year 1930 should necessarily reflect that. Quite frankly, all the nonsense about Jim Archer’s wife should just be cut and replaced with a big Spiritualism puzzle of some sorts.

I’m not saying a séance — no need to retread MHM — but an actual nod to Spiritualism (and through it, the first World War, which given Nancy’s age of 18, would have happened when she was a child) more than just “and this character is a psychic of sorts, don’t really think about it” would improve the game and ground it in its time period. Other than the references to money troubles and the ease of identity theft, there’s not much to ground CLK in its period, and I really think a Spiritualism storyline would aid that.

And if Spiritualism is involved, Richard becomes a more present, more serious character — and a more serious threat. It also opens the opportunity for the two plotlines to intersect — is Emily being driven crazy by stress, an enemy, or a malevolent spirit (which could even be supposed to be her mom, should they want a slightly darker turn)? Richard might visit the house to ensure there are no ‘malevolent presences’ around — and ensure that Crowley didn’t hide his will there.

It wouldn’t become a ‘haunting’ game; it would instead work on the aesthetic of familiar spirits — something that would be explored more fully in the next game.

I know this has been said, but I can’t emphasize enough that the sewing puzzle should be cut, even if there’s nothing to take its place. It’s a perfect example of the wrong puzzle, the wrong controls, and the wrong side-quest at the wrong time. I’m also not sure why they made Jim Archer a middle-aged banker rather than Helen Corning’s fiancée, but that’s too small a change to really bother with.

The other important change I would make is to change CLK from a weak whodunit — our culprits are already clearly the culprits — to a strong howdunit, which is what it really wants to be.

The beginning can stay the same — Nancy’s journey, Emily’s mother’s death, Richard’s faking of the will, Josiah Crowley’s death and promises, etc. — but introducing Richard Topham at the Inn, there to ‘visit’ and offer condolences and because he sensed Heavy Psychic Energy and wondered if it was coming from the house or from Emily. Have Emily tell Nancy in confidence that the other reason she called her in was because she’s either going crazy or being attacked on all sides, and the game can proceed on from that point.

Because the villains aren’t secret or even quasi-hidden in plain sight — save for Marion’s identity theft — it’s a much more natural shift to a howdunit than other games. Emily’s living in fear of Marion, running the Inn, and the possible Malevolent Spirit that may or may not be her mother haunting her through the Secret, Secret Passageway in the Inn, and Nancy’s suspicious of Richard Topham who inherited all of Crowley’s wealth, of the ‘hauntings’ of the Inn, and of the missing will and the gifts Josiah left behind.

Those two plotlines alone are enough to carry the game, especially including the Edutainment section on Spiritualism that would tie in with Richard Topham (and possibly include Emily’s mother having an interest due to her husband dying in the war), and so Jim Archer just isn’t needed as much. Whether he stays in the game in an even more reduced role or whether he’s replaced by a ninth-hour character in the form of Emily’s actual guardian, the real Jane Willoughby, is up to personal preference (though I personally like the second option).

Like all the Jetsetting games, CLK begins with a small problem that snowballs into larger and larger consequences. By emphasizing a Spiritualist plotline (culminating with the technology-based ‘encounters’ Josiah had with his CB radio friends), trimming down the fat with Jim Archer, and selling CLK from the beginning as more of a howdunit than a whodunit, CLK would improve enough to be more than just a good game, and become a standout of its era — as befitting the start of the titular teen detective.

#nancy drew #clue crew #secret of the old clock #nancy drew games #CLK #nancy drew meta #long post #my meta #video games

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neko-shinigxmi · 4 years

Text

.: Day 4 - F/O February :.

First date

Let’s play catch up again, shall we? Notes: Kurama/Me. The first date, all those years ago...before anything else was known of him, aside from that lovely, kind boy at school. Pre-Yu Yu Hakusho canon.

“Would you...be willing to go on a date with me??” Rachel’s heart still hadn’t calmed a beat since asking Shuichi that very question yesterday, just before a certain redhead escaped her reach at the end of the school day. Having a crush on him a long time... Honestly, ever since she’d taken the biggest fall in human history while trying to get to her next class. Not only had he helped her up, but helped gather her things, walk her to the nurse’s office, and make sure she was okay before he headed out.

Was it probably silly? Oh, definitely. That’s probably just...infatuation, isn’t it? But yet, Rachel still felt drawn to him. An attraction that couldn’t be explained and that bothered her every day, him nearly always on her mind. That kind personality that made him so popular in school, as well as with a headstrong attitude that meant nobody dared step on his toes. Trying to start a fight with Shuichi... Who’d be dumb enough to do that?!

...Who’d be dumb enough to ask him out after school, even after countless other people had tried and been rejected...?

What Rachel hadn’t expected, was for him to smile, nod, and say, “I’d love to,” and...give her directions to his favorite cafe near the edge of the city, where they could have a proper, quiet date.

It felt like a dream. It felt...like maybe it could be a lie or some horrible joke. But...if there was one thing Rachel was, it was a hopeless romantic who trusted too easily. Who got ready that day in a daze, dressing cute, and headed out for the train station, to ride out to the edge of the city, and to the cafe he directed her towards.

...It wasn’t a lie. It was the first thing she realized, eyes wide at the cafe window. His shockingly red hair was easily spotted in the earthly tones of the cafe, sitting patiently. She was a few minutes late, which bothered her, but... Had he been perfectly on time? Waiting here for her?

Walking through a door never felt so dramatic.

“There you are... Over here!” He waved her over, smile so warm and charming that it sent Rachel’s heart into a fit, flushing before he ever had to do a thing. Hands onto onto her bag tightly as she walked over, sliding into the seat opposite him. “Were you able to find this place okay?”

“Y-Yes... Though I must admit, I’m still getting used to the train. I was so scared that I’d miss my stop, that I almost did!” He laughed at that, her heart skipping a few more beats. He was so handsome... It wasn’t fair. How did-? Why??

“As long as you got here safely and without incident... I’m happy,” he assured. Well. That might’ve actually killed her. Ignoring her slow death, Shuichi turned to the menu behind him, gesturing to it. “Want anything? I’ll order it for you. Of course, it’d only be right if I covered for this date...”

“A-Are you sure?” Sure, he wasn’t wrong, but somehow...she just had to make sure. “I don’t mind-”

“Don’t worry about it.” He looked back at her, green eyes so bright and soft and kind... “I’ve actually noticed you before. You’re so shy and still learning Japanese, but... I’ve seen how kind you are. Always trying your best to be understanding and forgiving. Fit into the roles we make... It’s incredibly admirable of you. Truth be told... I was hoping we could interact more, but school’s kept us both busy, it seems. That’s why I’m actually really glad you asked me out, ahaha.”

.......Ah. So death...was like this, huh? He only giggled more at the bright blush on Rachel’s face, the poor girl needing to drop her head into her hands. A vain attempt to hide- done too late, to boot- but a valiant effort, all the same. At least, in Shuichi’s eyes.

“So...? What do you want to order?”

A few hours passed in good spirits in that cafe, talking about whatever came to mind. Shuichi admitted to his mother getting sick recently, and how he was looking for ways to help her. Rachel talked about what it was like to be a foreign transfer student, as well as some impromptu studying and tips on Shuichi’s part. Things that would help her study and remember things better.

Something done far better with him than with anyone else thus far.

“Well... Mind joining me? I have more things planned, after all,” he said, sighing a little as he got up, offering a hand to her. She glanced at it, a small smile growing on her face, before reaching out her own hand to take it.

“Oh yeah? What else do you have planned?”

“Nothing I can tell you. You’ll just have to trust me,” he hummed, smile turning more into a full on, playful grin as he helped Rachel out of her seat.

“Mysterious... Suppose I will have to trust you.”

“I’d hope so,” he shot back, laughing. “Otherwise, I think this would get pretty awkward.” Less so awkward, moreso terrifying, she thought, rolling her eyes. But he was right on that much... If there was no trust here, this could go from “cute date between two high school students” to “body of a young woman found” real damn quick.

...Not to be morbid, but worries like this still persist, even in a place that feels as lax as Japan. (...Or maybe that just increases concern? After all, the police aren’t exactly...well..... You know. Great at their jobs. Nor is the legal system that great, either... It’s all so many layers of a hot mess.)

At least that became a topic of conversation on the train, getting one of the emptier cars and having a full blown discussion of thefts and attacks in Japan compared to America.

“...I just still can’t believe your bike and umbrella are more in danger here than your life,” Rachel huffed. “Like? You guys don’t worry about leaving your phones and/or belongs behind at all! That’s fine and safe, but gods help you if didn’t chain your bike down hard enough.” Shuichi laughed into his fist, grinning.

“Sure, but isn’t that more relaxing?”

“I’m stressed all the time,” she whined, slouching a little to make her point before straightening up again. “If anything, trying to adjust to where my stresses need to go is giving me a doozy.”

“Still. Isn’t there something positive to living here?” There was a certain gleam to his eye that had her heart stuttering and cheeks warming, but- as usual- she rolled around his subtle implication to instead be a bit more teasing.

“Well... I guess having authentic ramen is such a big bonus...and not paying over retail cost for items due to shipping and such,” she admitted, leaning back and just to the side that she and Shuichi were shoulder to shoulder. He raised a brow at the response...but pushed into the contact with a small, low hum.

“Gosh, only that...? How mean.”

“How so?” Rachel fluttered her lashes at him, absolutely playing her obliviousness up to the max. He smiled at it, but any attempt at further playing up this act was lost when he leaned in, eyes lidded and noses a mere inch away from each other.

“Well,” he muttered, voice low, “I was hoping there could be...something more to make you stay.... Something like that...could be worth something else, you know?” Uh, no. Did not know, because at that very moment, Rachel’s brain short circuited into an abyss previously unknown. Complete, total blue screen. The only notion left in her brain was that, maybe, he might-?

But then Shuichi pulled back with a bright, innocent grin, the moment over just as quickly as it had begun, leaving her mentally reeling on the seat. Unsure of what to make of that moment...

What the heck just happened?

“Ah, sorry... Was that too mean?”

“W-Well, not mean... But,” Rachel finally remembered how to breathe, putting a hand on her chest to feel her racing heartbeat. (Shuichi found that ridiculously adorable, glancing at it before back up to her distant gaze.) “that... I mean.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I think you might’ve broken me.”

“Sorry,” he apologized, laughing a little. “I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.”

The next destination was a museum a little ways out, still on the edge of the city...and dedicated to art. Rachel was honestly more excited than she first thought to go in, eagerly striding from painting to painting. Amazingly, Shuichi knew some of the history for certain pieces- some more than others, of course- and was able to provide some low conversation for them. It added to the experience, with Rachel gushing over each historical piece that she happened to know or when it featured a kami or mythical creature.

Much to Shuichi’s silent joy, she especially loved to gush about the kitsune and their tricky ways. Especially praising their shapeshifting and how much she wished she could do that... (It did make him raise a brow, but if she didn’t notice, then he wouldn’t. Some things were worth figuring out on their own time.)

“Just kitsunes?” He asked, holding her hand as they left the museum. At some point, it had become a necessity...mostly because he too often found himself standing alone when she’d seen something interesting and had wandered off. The final straw had been her wandering into a room across the hall and Shuichi worrying for a moment that he’d lost her.

After that, hand holding had become the only way to keep her on track.

“Mm, I think I do have a preference for them, but I also...kinda like tanuki, too. Such cute little tricksters! Though I’m...really not going to get over-”

“The ballsack thing?” They said at the same time, the two bursting into laughter at the same time.

“Yeah!! What an idea...” Rachel shook her head, a smile still bright on her face. “But I also appreciate the Yuki-onna... I think the ones that stick out to me are the ones that just come from the most interesting of places and have a really interesting, deep meaning to me- Oh!! And the bakeneko and nekomata!”

“Even though they’re violent?” A pause. “Well, the nekomata, especially.”

“Mhm. I can’t quite help it... I love all cats. Even if nekomata hate me, I’d love them a whole bunch.” Shuichi shook his head, smile still there, but... Good grief. Of course he’d have a crush on the one with no true sense of danger in her head... (But at the same time, he deeply appreciated it. He really did like her a lot, so the truth would have to come out sooner or later...)

“I see... Ah, wait a minute. Then does that mean you like manekineko a lot, too?”

“Of course I do!” Rachel gasped, almost sounding offended by the question. Though the look she was doing...! Shuichi almost gave in to laughter immediately! (Though to be polite and hear her out, he held it in.) “Manekineko are cats, too, aren’t they? So of course I’d love them!!”

“Hmm... Kamaitachi?”

“Scary,” she admitted with a nod, “but I like them in their own way, too.”

“Are they any beasts you don’t like?” It had to be asked. So far, he couldn’t tell if there really was any yokai she didn’t like! Was it even possible? She thought about it a moment, head tilted as they walked on, hand in hand.

“...Hmm. I guess...it would be that bathroom lady. That’s horrifying no matter which way you look at it.” Bathroom...lady? It took him a moment before he turned to her, blinking.

“Do...you mean Aka Manto? That’s a man!”

“It is?!” The shocked surprise had him laughing all over again, a curled fist slightly covering his mouth as he did. “Wh... But he hides in women’s bathrooms?!? That’s...” He only laughed harder at the look of confusion on her face, needing to wipe away tears by the time he could manage to straighten himself up and control his laughter.

“Well... I’m glad I could be here for this revelation.”

“....Aka Manto is a pervert,” she muttered, frowning.

“Now, now, don’t say that. He might target you next, you know.” Rachel shuddered, holding his hand a little tighter and walking closer to Shuichi, not looking at him. Missing the way his eyes softened fondly at the act.

“Don’t even joke about that... I might avoid using public bathrooms.”

“Hey, it’s okay... If anything happens to you, I’ll be there for you, okay? Even if I have to seem like a perv.” It was silent for a long moment, Rachel looking thoughtful before finally muttering, “You know... That’s weirdly comforting. Thanks, Minamino.”

“Hey... You don’t have to use my last name, you know.” Rachel blinked, looking up at him. At first with a slightly surprised expression, though he could soon see her cheeks flush a little brighter.

“Um... Are you sure? I don’t want to be impolite or anything, since I know-”

“I’m allowing it,” he assured, laughing softly. “We’re certainly closer than before, don’t you think?” He swung their hands a little, proving his point. “So please... It’s okay. I’ll call you by your first name, too. Alright, Rachel?” If no honorific was an honor enough, then what sealed the deal was him tugging her forward and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Today was just a full day of being mentally broken into emotional pieces, huh...?

“Th-Thanks...Suichi...”

“It’s no problem~”

The sun was setting by the time they both made it back to the city, but while Shuichi admitted to plans of going to a fancy restaurant...Rachel admitted to being unable to handle the formality of that. Not to mention, the prices! He was already paying for everything today, so the deep seeded need for him to take it easier on his wallet... He wasn’t too sold on the idea, but eventually gave into the cute, anxious bouncing she was doing while trying to convince him otherwise.

And so, the day was being closed out with a compromise: getting fast food to go and heading out to a nearby park to instead have a little picnic while the sun was setting.

“I’ll admit...not a bad choice,” Shuichi mused, popping another fry into his mouth. “Getting to admire the sunset like this while having food... Though we should have a proper picnic sometime.”

“Mm, that’d be nice,” Rachel agreed, completely missing his hint... It not sinking in until a chicken nugget was already in her mouth, staring at him in shock with a bulge in her cheek when it finally sunk in, Shuichi watching her hurry to eat it in order to speak. “W-Wait! You-? You want to...?”

“Go on another date with you?” She nodded, eyes wide behind her glasses. “Well, of course. I already knew you were something special before...today’s just proven that. I’m already glad I waited for you to gain the courage to ask me out... You really think this would be just a one time thing? That I’d be that mean?” Rachel looked down at her lap, cheeks flushed, and shrugged. Shuichi’s eyes went wide, sure that he heard his heart just crack.

“I don’t know... Maybe? You’re super popular and I’m just...kinda plain, actually. I...was honestly kinda wondering when.....this would be revealed as an elaborate joke...” His shoulders sagged, the playful atmosphere fading away into something more somber. Had... Had someone hurt her before? That couldn’t be a thing someone just...thought.

“Hey.” He took her hand gently, pulling it between them and holding onto it was just enough pressuring to be reassuring. Waiting for her to meet his eyes, kind, yet determined. “I’m not that kind of person. Don’t let your brain lie to you like that. You must have heard of the many people I’ve turned down... I... Heh. I’ll admit,” he murmured, tone now far more gentle and painfully sincere, “I wasn’t interested in dating until you. I have...a lot of secrets. Secrets I don’t want others to get involved in...but I trust you, for some reason. Drawn to you, to the point where I meant it before, when I said I’d protect you from any mean yokai that might try to harm you.

“It’s extremely forward of me to say this so early on, I know...” He leaned forward, pleased when Rachel leaned forward, too. Their foreheads touching and staring deeply into each other’s eyes. “But I also want to show you how much this really means to me, so... You, Rachel, are incredibly dear to me already. I know I can trust you with all my secrets someday... So please. Keep smiling in that beautiful way that you do. Laugh so warmly, that I feel at peace...and when the truth comes out, I hope you accept me as I am.” She seemed understandably confused, but nodded quietly, a smile slowly growing on her face again.

“...Okay.”

“I’ll walk you home. It’s only right.”

“Oh... Okay. Thank you, Shuichi.”

The walk home was a quiet affair, their hands linked together more easily as they walked through the suburban areas with ease and calm. Streetlights helped, but something about the redhead’s presence made everything feel more reassuring. Nothing to fear with him around...

And his coat on her shoulders.

“Here we are, princess,” he hummed, twirling her forward and then giving a wink when Rachel faced him. “Have fun?”

“Way more than I would’ve ever expected... Thank you.” She laughed and he brightened up, nodding. “I... I really look forward to our next one.”

“As do I.” He kissed her hand, nudging her home.

“Ah, but... Your jacket?”

“Give it to me, tomorrow, if you wish.” Rachel gaped at him, not at all oblivious to his intentions. He really was going to make it obvious they’d been on a date! To the whole damn school!! “...Or not. I don’t mind.”

“You’re....” She sighed, shaking her head.

“I’m me. And that’s what matters,” he hummed, a smug tone to his voice as he leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “See you tomorrow at school, Rachel. Study hard, too!”

...Leaving her there at the gate, flustered, heated with embarrassment, and reeling...and not knowing how deep into his life and his world she truly was. Not until later that following week...

But that’s a story for another time.

#FOFebruary #FOFebruary2020 #self insert #self ship #self insert community #self ship community #HI I'M SHAKING AAAAAAA #TAKE THIS AND RUN WITH IT #IDK THIS IS SO FUCKING LOOOOONNNNGGG #I DON'T KNOW WHAT A MODERATION IS ANYMORE...#DID I EVER???#HELP ME #[S C R E A M S]#otp; garden of love

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blackberrywidow · 5 years

Text

Transcendental (i)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Words: 4.7k

Chapter Summary: Life goes on, even if you don’t want it to.

Warnings: Canon divergence, angst (!!!!), mentions of death and mourning. You’ll notice that this series will have a lot of ups and downs, but I promise it’ll even out in the next few chapters.

Author’s Note: So here’s the first actual chapter (be sure to find the prologue in the masterlist if you haven’t already)! Still mostly laying the ground work for the plot, but shit really starts happening next chapter. So there’s that. Please let me know what you think with a like/reblog/comment—I love hearing from you!

And as always, special thanks to @blackwidws for creating the banner for this series and just being perfection personified.

Series Masterlist

Chapter One

Then

You winced as a cornstalk whipped back to hit you in the square in the face, but you pushed on, panting and sweating. Your bare thighs were taking the brunt of the abuse, another stalk slicing into your skin as you shot past it, and you were once again reminded that running barefoot through a corn field in nothing but your underwear and an AC/DC t-shirt was a resoundingly bad idea. You were a superhero though, and you had faced worse than this. So you carried on, determined to not get caught.

But determination could only get you so far. You could hear him catching up to you, his feet pounding the ground at a much faster rate than yours. He had always been faster than you, you knew that, but you still cursed internally, careful to keep your ragged breathing as quiet as possible, even if it waspointless. You knew it was only a matter of time before—

“Gotcha!” was the last thing you heard before you felt the sting of webbing smack against your shoulder, and then you were flying backwards, directly into your pursuer’s chest.

Though you had anticipated this move, as it was unquestionably his favorite, you couldn’t contain the gasp that whooshed out of you at the contact. Nor could you repress the exhilarated giggle that burst out of you once you were back in his arms.

“You could have at least let me get a little farther,” you complained, mock pout forming on your lips as you tilted your head back to look up at him.

Peter only laughed, eyes twinkling the way they always did when he was happy. It made your heart swell just to see it, to know that you were the cause of it.

“I could have, but we both know your sense of direction is deeply flawed without AI assistance, so there’s no telling where you would have ended up if I had. And—wait,” Peter cut himself off, expression bemused as he glanced down for the first time since he found you, “are you not wearing pants?”

You raised a single eyebrow in challenge. “Does it look like I’m wearing pants?”

“No,” Peter said decidedly. “You are most definitely not wearing pants. What happened to your pants?”

Your mind instantly flashed to the bush you had fallen into after you had leapt over a fence post to get into the field. The thorns had bitten into your skin, but they had snared your shorts entirely, latching into the pocket and refusing to let go. In a moment of true wisdom, you had decided to cut your losses and shimmy out of the pants before continuing your sprint into the cornfield.

None of which you felt inclined to share with him, knowing he would just laugh at your expense, effectively ruining the tone you were attempting to set by instigating this little chase.

So, you shrugged noncommittally, and offered a half-truth as an explanation. “I was hot.”

Peter’s brows lifted in skepticism. “Uh huh. And you thought running into a cornfield was the best way to cool off?”

“I thought that running into a cornfield was the best way to get your attention,” you shot back, smirking when he laughed.

“Oh? And I thought dragging me all the way to Kansas to have a picnic in a field ‘just like in the movies’ was supposed to get my attention. I also thought it was supposed to be ‘peaceful, quiet, and with absolutely zero interruptions from global disasters and—wait for it—any form of physical exercise.’ And you know,” he continued, giving you a look when you opened your mouth to protest, “some would consider interrupting said picnic to take off running through a field as exercise.”

“Yes well, that was beforeyou decided to eat all the watermelon,” you defended, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes in mock reproach. “You left me with no other option. It was either run away from my feelings or kill you, and you know I love you too much to do that.”

“But you’re allergic to watermelon,” Peter reminded you in exasperation. “Which is why I packed you the apple—the apple that you ate without complaint, by the way.”

“That… is beside the point,” you finished lamely, suddenly losing confidence once you were standing still and facing him once more. You considered taking off again, but judging by the look Peter was giving you, he knew it, and he had no intention of playing along this time. “And besides, I’m only mildly allergic to watermelon.”

He gave you an unimpressed look, and you knew that he was perilously close to ending your game.

“Come on, (Y/N),” Peter urged, giving you an encouraging smile. “Just tell me what all of this is about. What are youreally running from here?”

And there it was. The game of cat and mouse was effectively over.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to dodge the issue even as your grip on his arms tightened.

You wanted this—you knew you did. But you also knew that the thought of ruining this thing—this genuine bit of happiness that you had found—was terrifying.

“You know what I mean,” Peter said, voice gentle and coaxing, still smiling at you like you were the most important thing in the world.

And suddenly you remembered why it was you were doing this.

You and Peter weren’t like other people your age. Most 20-year-olds were worried about finding a job or finishing college. But you were superheroes, and you put your lives on the line every single day. And every time you opened your eyes, you weren’t sure if that day would be your last.

But if there was one thing you were sure of, it was that you loved Peter and he loved you. So you decided that you had done enough stalling, and it was time to just go for it.

“Will you marry me?”

The stunned look on his face was the only indicator that the words had in fact left your mouth. It was also a solid indication that maybe you could have led up to that a little bit better. The Starks were known for their charming words and long-windedness, but they were also known for their impulsivity and bad decisions, so the chances of this going well for you were about 50-50. Of course, this would be one of the times it didn’t—

“Did you really just ask me to marry you, or is this some kind of watermelon-induced hallucination?”

Your mouth suddenly felt very dry, but you managed a sharp nod in affirmation. When he only continued to stare at you, wide-eyed and speechless, your brain decided to grace you with the ability to speak again. Which historically only made things worse for you.

“I did, uh… ask you to marry me. And I mean, I know we’re young. Some would say too young, but most people don’t have jobs that involve saving the world on a daily basis, so you know. Fuck what they think, I guess. Unless you’re worried about what other people think, which is understandable. I mean, it would be very public, because you know. I’m the heiress to one of the largest fortunes in the world. And the daughter of a superhero, who is also secretly a superhero. It kind of complicates things. But most things with us are complicated—well, things with Spider-Man and Siren are complicated, but things with Peter and (Y/N) never are, which is one of the things I love most about our relationship. And I love you, of course, and I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter how short it may be. So I figure, why not get married now? Why wait for something that may never come when I’m sure about this? I mean, that’s assuming that you are—”

Peter, finally taking mercy on you, abruptly lurched forward, claiming your lips in a searing kiss that almost made you forget about how awful your previous ranting was. The kiss was slow and sweet, but brief as he was soon breaking away to stare at you with those heartbreakingly beautiful eyes.

“I love you,” he said, and your breath caught in your throat because no matter how many times he said it, it still always surprised you. “I love you, (Y/N) Stark, and I do want to spend the rest of my life with you. I was just surprised. I mean, it’s not every day the girl of your dreams proposes to you.”

You rolled your eyes in an attempt to hide your relief, but also because Peter was ridiculous. As always. “Don’t tell me you think it’s a man’s job to do the proposing.”

“Of course not.” Peter looked affronted, the sight enough to make you giggle and lean in closer to him despite the summer heat. He smiled down at you, pure adoration in his eyes. “But I do wish that I could have talked to your dads first—you know, to make sure that they don’t kill me. And I want to get you a ring, which could be a real problem on a full-time student’s salary. Though I could always sell a kidney… or state secrets. Whichever goes for more, I guess.”

You only laughed, bright and airy, shaking your head before sealing your lips over his again, watermelon mixing with apple in a delicious combination as he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss.

You pulled away several minutes later, breathing hard, and rested your forehead against his. Your lips were tingling, and you weren’t sure if it was an allergic reaction from the watermelon or just the usual affect that Peter had on you. Probably both, if you had to guess, but you ignored it.

“I don’t care about rings or big weddings or anything like that. All I want is you, Peter Parker. Well,” you amended, pulling back and glancing down when you felt something shift around your feet—likely a snake, “you, and to get the hell out of this cornfield. Probably the entire state of Kansas as well.”

“And some pants?” Peter suggested, following your line of sight to take in your bare legs.

You felt your cheeks warm, and you could only hope he would blame it on the heat. “Yeah, some pants might be nice too.”

“Alright then,” Peter said before scooping you up into his arms to carry you back across the field, much to your delight. “So, the to-do list is: me, leave the state of Kansas and find some pants, in that order. Oh, and then get married. I think we can manage that without too much trouble.”

“You better hope so,” you teased, smile so wide it almost hurt. “It only goes downhill from here baby. I’m a very needy person, you know.”

“Oh man, do I,” he sighed dramatically. “It’s a good thing you’re wealthy. To afford all of the medical expenses that come with carrying you on my shoulders for the next decade or so.”

Your laugher rang across the field, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so happy. “The next ten years? Think again Parker. You’re stuck with me for life now.”

Now

(Three years later)

It wasn’t raining, but you thought that it should be.

It always rained in the movies, after all. A group of mourners in black, umbrellas raised to block the rain even as tears fell from their eyes. The camera would zoom in on your expressionless face, cheeks dry as you watched them lower the casket in the ground. A single tear would slide down your cheek, and it would be over.

As it was, this wasn’t a movie and the sun was beating down on you and your father’s hand on your shoulder was uncomfortably warm. Your eyes weren’t dry, though you did your best to keep your face devoid of emotion otherwise. Your hands clenched at your side, aching for an umbrella—for somethingto hold onto. For a distraction.

They said Stark men were made of iron, but Stark women were made of stronger stuff. You had to be, if you were going to survive this.

The hand on your shoulder squeezed tighter as they lowered your husband into the ground.

A sob sounded close by. You thought it may have been you, but you couldn’t be sure of anything as you watched the casket that held what was left of Peter Parker disappear from view. You didn’t think you’d be sure of anything again.

There had been a time where you were sure you would spend the rest of your life with Peter, after all. But there had also been a time when you were sure your father, Tony, would live to see you have children, to see you take over the family business, to simply be there. And well… Looking back now, you felt exceptionally naïve to have hoped for anything at all.

You wished it would rain, if only to drown everything else out.

…

“It was a nice ceremony. A lot of people… I’m sure he would have liked that.”

The comment was made lightly, searchingly. Empty words to fill a silence that cannot truly be filled. But empty words were never really Steve Rogers’s specialty, and they fell flat in the back of the limousine that was taking you back to the Tower.

Still, you nodded, the pain in Steve’s eyes pushing you to play along. To ignore the fact that Peter’s funeral was so large only because he was married to you, the Stark heiress. No one knew who he really was. No one knew that he had died a hero. No one but you and your father, and a handful of other superheroes who couldn’t attend the funeral without creating a stir.

It didn’t feel like enough.

“It was,” was all you said.

The car fell back into a careful silence, and with nothing better to do, you continued to stare at your father’s profile out of the corner of your vision. Keen eyes traced the hard edges of his face, the way his hair shown like gold when the light struck it just right. Sometimes you wished you could find a trace of yourself in his features, that you had a physical connection with him the way you had with your other father. That maybe there would still be someone on Earth that you actually shared blood with.

But Steve had been a father to you in every other way since he joined the team when you were 12, and you knew that he was all you had left now.

First Happy to the Mandarin ten years ago, then Aunt May to a heart attack two years ago, then Tony to his heroics last year, now… Peter. All gone to somewhere you couldn’t reach reach them. Steve was the only family you had left now, if one didn’t count Rhodey or Pepper, who both had thrown themselves into work after Tony’s death. You knew you were the only family he had left too.

It hurt to admit, but it didn’t feel like enough either.

“I…” Steve hesitated, eyes piercing through you in the way they always did. “I gotta say, I’m almost glad your father wasn’t here for this… Awful, isn’t it?”

Your eyes burned at the reminder, and you weren’t sure if you could agree or not.

Tony Stark, your biological father who had raised you ever since your mother left you at his doorstep over twenty-three years ago, had nearly a year ago now (10 months and 12 days if one wanted to be precise, but who was counting really?). He died a hero, as you always feared he would, saving the world from a madman who thought he could bring peace to the universe by destroying it.

He was fifty-two. He had been married to Steve for only three years after dancing around the idea for nine. He had been an outstanding father, and he had died alone.

But most importantly, he had loved both you and Peter fiercely, and it would kill him to see you like this now: widowed and heartbroken at twenty-three; his son-in-law dead because he didn’t know how to not be a hero. Just like Tony.

Perhaps Steve was right. Perhaps it was better this way. But still, you craved the comfort only Tony knew how to give you.

You wished for simpler times, if there ever was such a thing.

But what you said was, “A lot of things are awful. It hardly makes a difference anymore does it?”

“Of course it does.” He said it so quietly, you almost missed it, his jaw was clenching the way it always did when he was fighting off tears. And then he was clearing his throat, the way he always did before he gave you a speech. It was nice, you supposed, how some things never changed even when everything else crumbled around you.

“I… I’ve been trying to think…” he started, unsure in a way that he never was. It made you sit up straighter, coming out of your revere enough to give him your full attention. “What your father—what Tony would say. To make you feel better, to comfort you. To give you hope or love or—God, I don’t know, something to make this better. He was always so much better at comforting you than I was,” he let out a shaky laugh, and your eyes burned at the reminder. Steve had always been a comfort to you, but no one had ever loved you the way Tony did. “But I know that there isn’t anything I can do or say to fix this. That I—that neither of them are coming back, and the only thing to really do is accept that and move on.”

He cut himself off there, seemingly unsure of how to proceed, and you knew it wasn’t his fault but it hurt to think about carrying on after you had already lost so much. What more could you stand to survive? What more would it take to break you?

“Is that what you did?” you deflect instead of giving voice to your fearws, your tone mild and quiet in the backseat of the car. “Move on?”

Your father’s lips twitched up into a heartbreakingly sad smile, and it confirmed your thoughts before his words did. “No, I suppose not.”

You nodded, eyes shifting back to gaze out of the window once more. “I thought so.”

The remainder of the car ride was spent in silence.

…

A week passed by uneventfully.

That is to say that while things may have been taking place in the world outside of your small apartment, you were in no way a part of them.

Steve had begged you to move back to the tower, back home.You didn’t have the heart to tell him that without Peter or Tony, no place really felt like home anymore.

Tony had always told you that a home was a concept more than a place, something that you learned quickly when you were traveling constantly with him for the first 12 years of your life. It was a sentiment that only solidified once you found Peter. And now it meant nothing.

The one-bedroom apartment you currently resided in came the closest though. You and Peter had moved in not long after your engagement, despite Tony’s protests that you could find something a little bigger, a little closer to Manhattan, a little more comfortable. It was cheap and located in a questionable part of Queens, but it was yours and the two of you had been so proud that you had managed the deposits and rent all on your own.

It had been the place you called home for three years, but more importantly than that, it held a lot of memories for you. It’s where you and Peter shared your first night as husband and wife, something that seemed like forever ago even though it had only been two and a half years in reality. But it was also where you sequestered yourself after your father’s death not even two years later. It was where you were hiding once again.

You were aware that it wasn’t healthy, closing yourself off like this. But you had no reason to leave.

Without Tony and without Peter, you had no desire to be a part of the world that had used and abused them so.

There was Steve, of course, but he dealt with grief differently than you did. He had his missions and his avengers and his heroics to occupy his time, and though he called you every morning, you didn’t hear much from him. You assumed it was his way of giving you space.

Rhodey and Pepper were both consumed by their jobs as well, and you couldn’t fault them for it. Rhodey’s position in the military and Pepper’s place as CEO of your father’s—your—company were demanding, and they made time for you whenever they could. They were like an aunt and uncle to you, and they always would be, but things had been more… strained since Tony’s death. You suspected that was your fault as well.

And the Avengers, your team that had been your family since 2012, were scattered across the globe. Natasha called when she could, but she was undercover more often than not these days, and it was hard to stay in touch. Other than Steve, she was probably who you were closest with on the team.

Clint, Bucky, Sam, Thor, Bruce, Carol, Hope, Scott…. They were all still living their lives and fighting the good fight to keep the universe as peaceful as possible. You knew that true heroes couldn’t let the deaths of their friends and comrades hold them back. The world still needed them after all.

Which is how you knew you weren’t a hero, no matter how hard you tried to be like your dad. Like Peter.

This grief and guilt that weighed on your soul was just too heavy. After Tony had died, you had tried to carry on his legacy and become Iron Woman, leaving behind the Siren, along with her black suit and batons that she used to take down would-be rapists and murderers, to bear the weight of red and gold armor instead.

It had been difficult, but manageable with Peter’s support. You had always loved saving people after all, always wanted to be a hero.

But now you found that it was impossible to get out of bed in the morning, let alone worry about saving anyone else.

And that day was meant to be just like the rest: bleak, uneventful, unwanted.

But then you heard the creak of your window opening, and the shattering of a vase quickly followed by muffled cursing.

Your armor surrounded you in an instant, nanotech spreading across your body from the twin metal bracelets on your wrists. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see when you carefully crept into your living room to investigate, but it certainly wasn’t… this.

“Uh… hey,” the boy in the black Spider-Man costume squeaked, before dropping his tone into a clearly false baritone. “I mean, hey. What’s up?”

You only blinked at him once behind the visor of your suit before letting it recede back into your bracelets. If he was surprised to see who you were, he didn’t show it. Which left just one question.

“Is this some kind of joke?” you ask, voice tightly controlled in an effort to keep the tears at bay.

That, at least, seemed to surprise him.

“No!” he rushed to explain, hands up in a placating gesture. “Of course not, I was, uh… I was told to come here. For help.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Oh yeah? Help with what—fashion advice? And who exactly sent you here?”

The boy—and he most certainly was that, couldn’t be older than 14 based on his voice and stature— hesitated, indecision writ across every line of his body. But then he slowly removed his mask, revealing a mass of curly hair and dark, pleading eyes.

He really was young.

“It was your dad, Captain America I mean,” he explained, eyes lowered to the ground like he doesn’t know what else to say, but things are starting to piece together before your eyes. “He—he saw me scaling a wall in Brooklyn—a complete accident, not my fault. But uh, I told him that I wasn’t really sure what to do with… well, you know…”

“Your powers,” you answered, sparing him the embarrassment of saying it out loud. You could tell he was still struggling to admit it to himself, let alone someone else. “How long have you had them?”

“Just a little over a week,” he says, sounding almost relieved. “I got them the night…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but his meaning is clear.

The night your husband died.

You sucked in a surprised breath. “You know who he was?”

He shrugged, looking even more uncomfortable than he did before. “Yeah, the Captain—Captain America—he told me. About… uh, Spider-Man, and what he meant to him. To you. He said that you were the only person who could really help me with this. That you were the only one a-alive who… knows what it’s like.”

You purse your lips, and you want to curse your father for arranging this, but you can almost see his logic. No one knew what it was like to be Spider-Man better than you did—you had spent several years of your life in love with him after all. But you knew what being a superhero did to someone, especially when they were so young. And you wouldn’t play a part in ruining the life of a kid you didn’t even know.

“So you want to be a superhero then?” you ask, ready to tell him what it really meant and that if he were smart, that he would run away from this and never look back.

But he surprised you.

“No,” he says with conviction. “At least not… not now. I’ve got school and my parents and girls and a million other things to worry about. All I want is to know how to control this, so that I’m not sticking to every doorknob I touch or getting stuck on the ceiling every night.”

His tone implied that this had happened more than once, but you decided not to question it despite your curiosity. Instead, you ask, “And I imagine you got the suit from my father as well?”

He nods, a bit sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m… sorry, if it seems like it’s in like, poor taste or something. And that I uh… made some artistic changes. He just gave it to me and said it was mine if I ever decided I needed it, but I guess maybe I should have asked you first. It was just you know, Captain Americaand when he tells you something you just—”

“You do it,” you cut him off with a roll of your eyes. “Yeah, that’s what everyone says, but here’s your first lesson kid: sometimes the best thing you can do is ignore Captain America. Save yourself the pain.”

Your mouth quirked up into something resembling a smile when his mouth dropped open in shock. It felt odd on your face, but you were almost relieved that you could still do it. “So you don’t want to go into the super hero business, right? You just want someone to teach you the ropes so that you can function as a uh… Spider-Person?”

He blinks at you a couple times before nodding, either still in shock that you had dissed Captain America or that you were willing to help him.

“Alright then, we’ll start with the basics. What’s your name kid?”

“Miles,” he said after a beat of silence. “Miles Morales.”

“Nice to meet you Miles,” you respond, already thinking up training regimens and calculating dietary plans to compete with his increased metabolism, and the excitement that came with the sudden appearance of a purposesurprised you. But all you said was, “Let’s get started.”

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randomoranges · 5 years

Text

I worked on this all day. This is the AU version. Gonna work on the canon version this week, I guess. Lamao.

Ferris Wheel

Edward stepped inside the apartment and locked the door behind him, “I’m home,” he called out after he noticed that Étienne’s shoes were there, therefore letting him know that his boyfriend was home. He put down his bag, changed out of his shoes, and made his way inside, trying to locate said boyfriend. He found Étienne in their living room, sprawled on the couch, book in hand and Edward laughed to himself, silently amused at the scene.

“Hey,” Étienne said after a moment as he bookmarked his page, before putting his book down. Edward walked over to him and Étienne shifted over to make room for him, “Hey yourself,” Edward replied before levelling himself with Étienne to kiss him hello. Étienne was quick to wrap an arm around Edward and to hold him close, taking advantage of the moment, and Edward was only too pleased to end it just yet, “This is nice,” Étienne murmured when they pulled away, eyeing Edward’s plush lips that only asked to be kissed again and again and again, “This is very nice,” Edward agreed with a small laugh that made Étienne grin, before he pulled his boyfriend in for another kiss.

Edward loved these moments – loved how natural they felt and how good they made him feel – loved the feel of Étienne’s fingers combing through his hair and the softness of his lips against his own. Time could stop during one of these moments and he would be perfectly content. He loved how easy these moments were and how Étienne was always willing to indulge in just one more kiss – how sometimes it would lead to more, and other times they were content just being together, holding each other close without a need to talk, lost in their own little private bubble for two.

They spent a moment or two of the early evening making out on their living room couch with no rush and no pressure. Étienne held him close and every time they pulled back, Edward was rewarded with the softest of smiles painted on Étienne’s lips and his heart tripped over itself once more. Green eyes that looked at him with such tenderness and love that Edward could only capture Étienne’s lips for another kiss. And another. And another...

“How was your day?” Étienne asked, what felt like a lifetime later, when Edward was resting on his chest, listening to the beating of his heart, while Étienne rubbed his back in soothing circles. Edward didn’t move, far too comfortable, but he didn’t have to, for this too was part of their normal routine – of something he looked forward to and that he couldn’t think he could live without anymore.

“Not too bad, and you?” Étienne’s hand travelled up to his scalp once more and Edward let out a small, little content sigh, practically inaudible, safe for Étienne’s well attuned ears.

“Productive; got a lot done, even made dinner,” Edward made a questioning sound at that, curious as to what he could have concocted, “Found an interesting recipe for veal scallops wrapped with prosciutto and sage – you’ll just have to cook them; figured it could go well with some grilled veggies – so I made those. I made that salad you liked from last time and I got some fresh fruit to go with the left over mini-sponge cakes and I made some whipped cream to go with.”

Edward’s mouth watered at the sound of that and he pecked Étienne’s chin in response, “You spoil me, Bouclé, all of that sounds amazing,” Étienne beamed and had it not been for the fact that he was comfortable, here in his lover’s arms, Edward would have gotten up to get the last of dinner ready, but instead he indulged just a little longer, stretching out this moment for as long as he could.

“Are you free this Saturday?” Edward asked, tracing nonsensical patterns on Étienne’s chest with his finger, as the sun started to set and painted their living room in golden, amber light.

“I don’t have anything planned, why?” Edward smiled – it was a game they played, even after over four years of dating, where they still asked each other out on dates, and Edward loved that they still did this – that even though they were used to each other – had been living together for seven years – there was still magic in their relationship and that they were able to find new things to do together, as well as revisit old favourites – that instead of growing bored of one another, they still thrilled at the idea of spending even more time together.

Edward hesitated for a moment, before he answered. The much awaited for Ferris wheel had finally opened up in the old port about a week or so and Edward... wanted to ride it. The romantic in him yearned to go there with his boyfriend, hold his hand as the pod gently turned, and then kiss him when they would inevitably stop at the highest point, even if it was Montreal’s latest tourist attraction and that the whole thing was a little cheesy.

“Eddy?” Edward looked up to Étienne’s questioning face and mentally prepared himself for his idea to be shut down, even though, deep down, he knew that wasn’t Étienne’s type of thing to do.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” He started and that certainly got Étienne’s attention who nodded, “I... wanted to ask you out for Saturday.” He started, trying to buy himself some time. Étienne seemed pleased with the idea of having a date with him on Saturday and it gave him the courage to go on, “I know it’s lame and tacky and over-priced and cheesy and stupid and hyped-up, but... dyouwannagototheferriswheelwithme?” He blurted out and braced himself for whatever reaction Étienne might have.

He expected a gentle turn down, or some remark that they could do something better, or that Ferris wheel’s were for dummies, or anything else really, but instead Étienne blinked, taking a moment to decipher what it was Edward had just told him, and then he laughed.

Étienne actually had the decency to laugh at him.

Edward was vexed.

Annoyed.

Irritated.

Upset.

Hurt.

“You said you weren’t going to laugh. Never mind. Forget I said anything. I knew it was a stupid idea.” Edward made to get up, the earlier magic of the moment fading, but Étienne was quicker, trapping him with his arms, impeding him from leaving, kissing the side of his face and telling him he was being a silly goose.

“Hey, no, I wasn’t laughing at your idea, promise,” He tried to reassure Edward, “It’s just – now, you promise not to laugh,” Edward eyed him suspiciously, made no promise, but Étienne took it as a sign to go on, “But... I wanted to take you there – I wanted to go on opening weekend, but we were busy, and then you started with your classes and there hasn’t really been a moment to go since then... It’s a new thing we haven’t tried yet – figured we owe ourselves the pleasure of at least trying it out once,” He laughed, a little sheepishly, sounding almost embarrassed, and Edward couldn’t help but laugh as well, because of course Étienne would have wanted to try the new “in thing” in the city – even if it was a tourist attraction. “I thought, maybe we could get dinner, before or after, then ride the wheel... just you and me... see the sights and the view.” Étienne babbled, his cheeks pinking and Edward grew fond all over again.

Edward loved this man. He loved how thoughtful and caring he was. He loved how shy and embarrassed he could get over silly little romantic gestures. He loved him more with each passing day. “It’s a date then,” Edward said, a tentative smile blooming on his face, as he reached out for one of Étienne’s hands.

“It’s a date,” Étienne murmured back. And if he sought another kiss, Edward was only human.

On Saturday, they agreed to have an earlier dinner, before heading out to the wheel. Étienne found them a nice little restaurant in the Old Port they hadn’t been to yet, and they stretched out their date to include a late afternoon stroll through the Old Port, enjoying the exceptionally hot September day (Étienne was enjoying it more than Edward, but it was worth it just to see Étienne smile). They walked through the cobblestoned streets, hands linked together as they took in the bustling streets ripe with the last of the tourists and locals alike. They walked their usual route, the one they did when they came to the Old Port, walking from City Hall, to Marché Bonsecours, then back, down to the waterfront, up to Pointe à Callière, going up one street, down the next, stopping by the last of the exposition on the former parliament, and all the while, Étienne regaled him with interesting historical tidbits of his favourite part of the city, his fondness for it contagious, and of things that had happened on previous visits he had made here, as a boy, as a kid, as a teenager, as a young adult, and Edward felt like he had been there beside Étienne on all those adventures.

Their walk led them to Gibby’s, and Étienne had them walk through the courtyard, after he paused to read their menu, as he often did, dreaming of the food, reminding Edward of the one and only time he had come here, with his parents, when they had celebrated a wedding anniversary and had received gift coupons from friends, “One day, I’m going to take you to this restaurant,” He vowed, pulling Edward closer to drape his arm around his shoulders, and Edward said nothing to that, knowing Étienne was serious about his declaration, and already looking forward to it.

Even if they didn’t dine at one of the most upscale restaurants of the city, they still had a lovely dinner together at a nice little restaurant, tucked away at a perfect table for two with a splendid view. Edward was immensely pleased with himself when he was able to outsmart Étienne for the bill and he rubbed it in his boyfriend’s face as they headed towards the wheel. He had to take his victories where he could and if it meant gentle teasing, then so be it. “You better watch your step, Murphy, I’ll get my revenge.” Étienne promised, stepping up to him to place his arm around his waist and Edward knew better than to add any oil to that fire, instead choosing to remain pleased over this one victory, especially considering that Étienne had gone ahead and bought the tickets for the wheel ahead of time, much to his chagrin.

They didn’t have to wait very long and the person working the wheel didn’t bother filling up the pod with other people, so they had the entire pod to themselves, which was exactly what Edward had hoped for. The pod was modern and spacious and Edward was amazed that you could even control the temperature in it. “Did you know you could actually have a VIP pod with champagne and glass floor?” Étienne asked him, reading off from the information display panel. “If you have a special occasion to celebrate or want to do something a little different...” They both looked at each other and for a moment, Edward wondered if they were both thinking of something – some grand gesture for the future.

“Sit next to me?” Étienne shifted from the other side of the pod and went to sit next to Edward, finding his hand and giving it a squeeze, leaving ideas of future grand romantic gestures up in the air.

At first, the pod went up a little and then stopped, as people were let off and others welcomed in. It gave them a chance to observe the view and take all the photos they wanted, which Étienne seemed to be determined to get, between documenting the view of the city from every which angle, and getting as many photos as possible with Edward, “This one looks so good!” Étienne declared, showing his phone to Edward for his approval, “I’m changing my background photo to this one, is that okay?” Edward nodded and Étienne tapped away on his phone for a moment, until the photo was changed and that same pleased little smile returned to his face – the one Edward loved so much.

“Send me the photos? Not right now, but at some point? Please.” Étienne promised and they settled in for the ride, Étienne placing his arm around Edward’s shoulders once more, where it seemed to belong, if it wasn’t holding on to his hand. Edward rested his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder and they were both quiet as the wheel started turning, taking in the sights around them, the quietness of the pod, and the presence of the other. It was nice, being here with Étienne, and his boyfriend had timed it perfectly so that they were here as the sun started to set, painting the sky in breathtaking hues of pinks, oranges, yellows and reds, golden light reflecting off the windows of the city’s skyscrapers, almost making it seem as though they were on a brilliant, bright fire.

Edward turned back to Étienne, to make a comment about the view, but the words died on his lips when he saw the look of utter content and peace on Étienne’s face. Instead, his heart sped up at the sight of Étienne bathed in this golden light and Edward took a moment to observe this beautiful spectacle for himself, drinking in the sight and committing it to memory, wishing he could capture it and have it forever.

Edward loved that they had this – that they were able to carve out time for themselves and that they still took pleasure in each other’s company. In moments like these, he was reassured that he and Étienne were still on the same page and that they still wanted the same thing – that what he felt for Étienne was exactly what Étienne felt for him. In moments like these, Edward could see their future develop before his eyes, could see themselves growing old and grey together, and even if it was a little frightening and overwhelming, there was also something exciting and comforting about it. In moments like these, he was so very glad he could do it all with his best friend by his side.

The pod silently continued its upward ascend and just as Edward had wanted, they got to spend a moment at the very top. Edward felt silly for feeling this way, but as he thought of sharing a kiss with Étienne, here at the summit of the wheel, he grew nervous and whatever bravado he had vanished, evaporating with the lingering summer heat. He opened his mouth to say something, but found himself unable to articulate his wish, and Étienne was too busy looking at the view of the St-Laurent to notice the internal struggle he was going trough.

“Étienne...?” He managed to say and his boyfriend turned to look at him. For the briefest of moments, it was hazel and green and Edward raised a trembling hand to caress Étienne’s cheek. Étienne leant into the contact, getting infinitely closer to him, Edward feeling his body heat, getting a whiff of Étienne’s aftershave, and he wanted nothing more but to furrow his face in the crook of Étienne’s neck and drown in the smell.

“Kiss me.”

Edward blinked and then grinned at his boyfriend. Of course, Étienne would want a kiss as well. Of course, Étienne would want to go for the romantic gesture, even if he liked to say he didn’t do romance and that he wasn’t good at it. Of course. Edward laughed and leaned closer, invading Étienne’s space with his person. Edward nuzzled their noses together, their knees bumping together and Étienne cupped his cheek, his other hand resting comfortably on the small of his back, and his hand was warm and solid against his skin – certain and sure – as he bridged the distance between them and then pressed their lips together. Edward wrapped his arms around Étienne, keeping him close, parting his lips open for Étienne, welcoming him in his personal space, wanting to keep him there for as long as possible, never wanting to let go.

When they pulled away, slow and gentle, Étienne caressed Edward’s cheek with the pad of his thumb and offered him the gentlest of his smiles, “I love you,” he said, soft, sincere, murmuring it for Edward’s ears only, trusting them with this big and monumental secret, and Edward treasured the words, hung to them and locked them up with all the other “I love you’s” Étienne had told him – with all the other displays of love Étienne had showered him in over the years.

The pod resumed its turning as Edward snuggled up to Étienne’s side, his boyfriend placing a kiss to the side of his face, and they remained that way, for much of the duration of the ride, as the Ferris wheel looped around a few times, before they had to get off. Étienne was gallant and offered his hand to Edward to help him off, and if both their cheeks were still a little pink and if they still felt like they were up in the clouds, a little dazed, a little drunk on each other’s company, they didn’t comment on it, as they walked away from the wheel, hand in hand.

“It’s gotta be something else seeing fireworks from up there,” Étienne commented, breaking the silence. Étienne had taken him skating on the refrigerated outdoor rink just steps away from where the wheel was during the winter fireworks, almost two years ago, and even though it had been crowded, the company had been good, the fireworks had been pretty and the bodacious hot cocoa they had shared afterwards had warmed his insides in more than one way. Last year they had returned, minus the skates, to sit on a bench and watch the show, and it had been just as nice and just as romantic. “We should come back during the fireworks, maybe this summer,” Étienne offered and Edward didn’t hate the idea, especially if it meant he could have another wonderful evening such as this one, “All things considered, even if it’s meant to be a tourist-trap, it was nice,” He added, mirroring Edward’s thoughts.

“D’you want to go for a walk?” Edward offered, looking towards the waterfront. Étienne nodded – of all the things they did, if Étienne had to pick one of his favourites, he would have to say walks with Edward. Whenever the weather was nice out, after supper, if Étienne wasn’t working with an extremely tight deadline, they would go for a walk around the neighbourhood, catching up on their day, wrapped in their little bubble, immersed in their own world. And even if Étienne had a deadline, he still tried to carve out a little fifteen minute break to step out with Edward – to get fresh air and spend time with his boyfriend. Even if they couldn’t always go, even if he couldn’t always make it, it was important to Étienne and he treasured every little walk they went on, no matter its length. Sometimes, they would stop for ice cream, sometimes they would cut through the park, and sometimes they would only go around the block, but it was a reprieve from the same-old-same-old of the day and Étienne welcomed it.

With time, Edward came to realise that as much as Étienne loved new experiences and thrived on trying new places, new bars, new restaurants, he also viscerally craved these small, nondescript, domestic, intimate, quiet moments. For as much as Étienne could go on about all of the latest trends, deep down, he was a simple guy who craved comfort and love and Edward was more than happy to oblige – more than pleased to be the one who got to share it with Étienne.

They made it to a quieter part of the waterfront, away from the crowd of the wheel, and Étienne leaned against the railing, Edward joining him, bumping their shoulders together. From here, they could see the Bisophère, looming on the horizon, illuminated in pinks and mauves, and on the other side, Habitat 67. Edward liked to tease Étienne about his infatuation with the place, but he thought it was endearing and sweet at the same time, how much he loved this monument from a time before he was even born. Étienne had taken him on a tour, about a month or so ago, and he had been quite excited, since it was the first time since 1967 that they were offering tours of the place, and it had been interesting, all things considered.

“You’re something else, you know?” He told him, smiling, his mind swimming with thoughts of all the different things they had done together, of the dates Étienne had taken him on, of the ridiculous things Étienne had said and done.

“In a good way, I hope.” Étienne asked, returning Edward’s smile. Edward laughed and playfully pushed at Étienne’s shoulder, which made Étienne half drape himself over his boyfriend in retaliation.

“The best way,” Edward thought to himself.

“Hey, wanna get some ice cream?” Étienne offered. Edward didn’t even need to think about it and nodded, making Étienne beam. Edward followed Étienne, who was already on about this great place he knew, not far from here, and Edward wondered, not for the first time, how it was that Étienne knew all these places. As they headed back towards Pointe à Callière, Étienne snaked his arm around Edward’s waist once more, but this time, he let his hand rest in Edward’s back pocket. It was a little bold and a little daring and Étienne looked at Edward, asking him if this was okay, and even if it was a little different and his heart sped up a little, Edward’s response was to do the same – he could do this here, it was okay here.

Edward thought for sure they were going to one of the regular ice cream parlours they went to when they went to the Old Port, but Étienne, ever full of surprises, led them through one street and the other, until they found themselves in front of what appeared to be a convenience store.

“The dep? Really? Curly, I thought you were against these places,” He teased, curious as to why they were here of all places, knowing how adamant Étienne was about locally made ice cream (and other goods).

“But this is the oldest dépanneur and they make their own ice cream, Édouard,” Étienne declared, opening the door for him, “You have three options; vanilla, the swirl of the day, or a combination of both – trust me, this place is good.” Edward had no doubt about that – would trust Étienne with close to anything when it came to food and the city of Montréal, (would trust him with so much more and then some) and therefore nodded and queued up.

He laughed when Étienne told the girl behind the counter that he would be paying for their order and not to accept any money from Edward, and when she handed them both their ice cream cones (swirl of the day for Étienne, half-and-half for him), Edward had to admit that the ice cream presented rather nicely and that he would have never guessed it came from a dépanneur. Étienne looked self-satisfied when Edward declared it was absolutely delicious and they chose to eat it outside, sitting on one of the benches by what was regarded as the birthplace of the city of Montreal.

“Thank you for such a nice date; I had a really good time – like always,” Edward laughed and handed Étienne a napkin when some of his ice cream leaked onto his hand.

“You’re welcome, and I had a really good time as well – we can do this again any old time, but who says it’s gotta be over?” He asked, grinning, leaning close.

Edward noticed that Étienne’s cheeks had pinked all over again and he quirked an eyebrow, intrigued, wondering whatever else it could be that was running in his boyfriend’s mind, “Oh? What were you thinking about?”

“Well, night’s still young. Figured we could go back home, take it nice and easy, we could pick up from where we left off on the Ferris wheel, I could make love to you...” He said it so casually, so easily, but Edward could tell from the way Étienne was holding in his breath that he was a little nervous, for some strange reason, even though it wasn’t as if they had never slept together.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Edward started, “Why don’t you lead the way back, Beautiful?”

They took the time to finish their ice cream, enjoying the warm evening, stretching out the moment for what it was worth, in no rush for this part of their date to end, and once they were done, they headed back towards their apartment, chatting about this and that, in their own little bubble once more, where they liked it best.

Étienne couldn’t believe he was here, again, after so many years. Sitting in the Ferris wheel, with Edward next to him. He had been quite surprised when Edward had come up to him, the other day, with the strangest of requests.

“This is going to sound a little lame and tacky,” He had started, “But... I’ve always wanted to ride that Ferris wheel in the Old Port and I don’t want to go alone, would you care to go with me?”

And so here they were now, the same little pod making its way towards the summit of the wheel, and Étienne looked away from Edward, focusing instead on the view around him, immersing himself in the colour of the trees, the sprawling skyline, the shape of the white, fluffy clouds against the clear, blue sky.

When they reached the summit, the pod stopped, giving them a moment at the top and Étienne’s mind replayed a similar moment from a lifetime ago. He was stuck reminiscing, trying to focus on anything but his erratic beating heart, that for a moment, he thought for sure he was dreaming, when he felt Edward reach over for his hand.

Étienne turned and spared a glance to the other man and then checked the space between them to see if it was real – and sure enough, Edward’s hand was there, entwined with his, but Edward was also looking out his own window, seemingly deep in thought. For a moment, Étienne thought maybe it had been accidental, but upon closer inspection, Étienne noticed the smallest of smiles gracing Edward’s lips.

Étienne smiled in return and looked back out his window once more, giving Edward’s hand the gentlest of squeezes.

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #Edward Murphy #étienne maisonneuve #au #ficlet #3 sentence fic meme thing #pre-amnesia au #amnesia au

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hannahindie · 7 years

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Dean vs. The Mothman

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader, The Mothman Word Count: 4,531 (Whoopsy doodles!) Warnings: Canon violence, language, sassy reader, and a date gone horribly wrong. A/N: I wrote this for two separate challenges. The first is for @waywardmoeyy and Moeyy’s Awkward Moments Birthday Challenge. My prompt is bolded in the fic below! The second was for @uniquewerewolfsuit’s Mythical Creatures Challenge. I had a blast writing it, and my words got slightly carried away. I really hope you all enjoy it as much I enjoyed writing it. However, I couldn’t have done it without my wonderful betas...

@trexrambling: “I was just hit with the memory of me making a lake of BBQ sauce on my plate and now I'm just sitting here giggling to myself hahaha” (I had to include this because this very incident is the reason I thought to put it in this fic. My ode to my sweet waterbear and her giant lake of barbecue sauce)

@pinknerdpanda: “Eek!!! Anxiety extreme” (Also, you can thank her for the song choice, because it fit perfectly and I love it. She’s my twin.)

As always, tags are at the bottom. If you’d like to be added, please send an ask or an IM. :)

The first thing you need to know is that grenade launchers are freaking awesome. The second thing you need to know is that they are also very loud, and a little more...explode-y than you would expect. The reason I say this is because I'm currently sitting on my ass, choking on concrete dust, and hoping to God I didn't just kill the two random dudes that had, for some reason, appeared in the middle of the bunker I had set my sights on. My eyes are on the slowly settling dust cloud, grenade launcher across my lap, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see two shadowy figures emerge from the rubble.

“Oh shit, I thought I killed you.” I stand up and take a better look at the two men brushing debris off their shoulders and out of their hair. The shorter of the two squints through the dust, and the initial glare turns into a look of awe when he realizes what I'm holding.

“Is that...is that a grenade launcher?”

His voice is deep and gravelly, and it does things to me. I remind myself to keep that in mind for later, when I'm not trying to save a town from utter destruction.

The giant next to him rolls his eyes, “Don't even think about it.”

The shorter one grins, and even from here I can see the sparkle in his eyes. I like this one. “I’m both jealous and a little turned on right now.”

“Dean!” Sasquatch hisses, and I can't help but notice the dimples that form even when he's frowning. Good Lord, where did these men come from? Whatever they put in their water, they should probably keep drinking it.

“Well, you're a man after my own heart. I've been wanting to use this thing for a long time, but I was hoping it would be a little more successful. Sorry I almost blew you up.” I'm pretty sure I just shouted that. Am I shouting? I told you, grenade launchers are loud.

They walk closer to me, and the shorter one holds out his hand. I realize that the ‘shorter one’ is...not so short. Seriously, where are they from? “The name’s Dean. This is my brother Sam.”

I look from one to the other, and I can tell my mouth is hanging wide open. They can't possibly be who I think they are. “Winchester? Sam and Dean Winchester?” They look at each other in confusion, but I can't understand why. Surely they know that they're legends? Right?

“Yea...how do you know?” Dean asks, and he truly doesn't seem to know. They have no idea. Oh, bless ‘em.

“You guys are legendary. I mean, I figured ya’ll were real and not just some sort of fish tale, but to see you in person...holy shit.” I sling the grenade launcher over my shoulder and rest my free hand on my hip. “I'm glad I didn't blow you up. Although, knowing who you are, I'm guessing it wouldn't stick, huh?”

Sam laughs, “Hopefully not. So, I'm guessing you're a hunter too, then?”

I nod, “I try to be. I do okay… Luckily, this is the first time I've nearly blown someone up, so I guess I'm doing something right.”

Dean looks back over his shoulder at what's left of the old bunker I just demolished, “What are those, anyway? I've never seen anything like it. They're everywhere.”

I grin. These boys have no idea what they're up against, do they?

“Ya’ll ever heard of Mothman?”

“What did you think you were hunting when you got here? Surely you noticed what this town is famous for?” I say around the mouthful of burger I just took. Dean's watching me with this look that's a combination of awe and appreciation. It's like he's never seen a girl put away a burger.

“Well, yea, but there's no lore, and no indication that he's back. You've got a festival honoring him! Nobody seems to mind it, and the disappearances don't really match up with what happened before.” Sam looks flustered, and I start to feel bad for picking at him. This is a weird situation, after all.

Dean stops staring at me long enough to look at Sam, “What are you going on about?”

I grab a handful of fries and carefully begin to dip them one by one into the pool of barbecue sauce on my plate, “He’s talking about the Mothman’s M.O. It's not really his thing to take people. He's more of a...well, a death omen. Or a warning of impending disaster.” Dean looks confused, and I raise an eyebrow at Sam, “Didn't you tell him anything about it?”

Sam frowns, “Yea, I did. He just didn't listen.”

“Yes, I did! There's this giant moth-”

“Dean, it's not a giant moth! It's a Mothman-”

“What's the difference, Sam? It's a giant thing with wings, and it's taking people-”

“There's a huge difference-”

I slam my hands on the table, and the suddenness of it interrupts their bickering. Out of all the stories I've heard about the Winchesters, their sibling squabbles had been left out. It’s cute, but we have work to do.

“We don't have time to argue about who's right. Dean, since you weren't listening to your brother, here's the rundown.”

Dean grins at Sam, “I like her.” Sam just rolls his eyes, and I sigh.

“Great. Keep it in your pants, Winchester. We’ll talk about our feelings later. Anyway, in November of 1966 there's a report that several men digging a grave in Clendenin, West Virginia, saw a man-like figure flying overhead. It's sometimes considered the first sighting of Mothman, but the one you hear about the most, the official first sighting, happened in the TNT area a few days later by young couples that went parking.”

“TNT area...that's where we were earlier. Wasn't that a munitions plant during World War Two?” Sam had apparently done some research.

“Yea. If you look close enough, you can see that those bunkers are spread out in a very specific pattern. They were built like that in case one of them exploded; it would keep the others from going up. They're mostly empty now, although I think the Reserves use them for storage on occasion.”

Dean reaches for a fry on my plate, and I smack his hand. He frowns, “So where's this giant moth fit in?”

“According to the two couples, they saw a ‘large flying man with ten foot wings’, and when their headlights hit him, his eyes glowed red. So Mothman, not just a moth. He was seen by a few other people in the area. There were a couple of volunteer firefighters that described it as a large bird with red eyes. Someone else described its eyes as looking like bicycle reflectors, and another man blamed the strange noises coming from his television and the disappearance of his dog on this Mothman. The sheriff and a wildlife biologist claimed that it was a type of local heron or crane that can grow to be almost the size of a man.”

Dean sits back and crosses his arms, his eyes occasionally drifting back to the fries I've got left. “So...that's it? I thought you said it was a death omen, or a harbinger of impending disaster. So far, he's just scared some kids necking where they weren't supposed to.”

“That's where the Silver Bridge comes in. In December of 1967, the Mothman was spotted near the bridge and, shortly after, the bridge collapsed. Forty-six people were killed when they went into the water. The Mothman wasn’t seen again, and the locals began connecting his appearance with the bridge collapse.” After grabbing a couple more fries from the plate, I shove the rest at Dean and he smiles happily.

“So, what do you think? Is it really the Mothman?” Sam asks, frowning at Dean as he shoves a handful of fries into his mouth.

“Initially, no. Honestly, I just thought it was a giant owl and that some kids afraid of getting in trouble just made something up. I've made fun of it for years...until I saw it a couple weeks ago. I just happened to be going through town when I saw it on the top of the old Historic State theater. A few days later, the first couple disappeared. A hiker found them in the wildlife area...or what you'd know as the TNT area.”

“How do you know it was the Mothman and not someone or something else?” Dean asks as he polishes off the rest of the fries faster than I've ever seen anyone eat before; it's my turn to look impressed. He winks at me, and I feel my cheeks flush. His charm was something I had been warned about.

“Because the couple was found twenty feet up a tree, with talon marks as big as a damn pterodactyl. It's the Mothman,” I grumble.

Dean wipes his hands off on a napkin and tosses it on the now empty plate, then leans back in the booth, “So what was your plan earlier? Was a grenade launcher really the best option?”

I roll my eyes, “Listen, it wasn't my first choice, despite my overwhelming need to blow something up. I'm the only hunter that stays in this general area most of the time, I had to improvise. But since that plan didn't work, we’re on to plan B.”

Dean cocks an eyebrow, “And what would that be, sweetheart?”

I wiggle my eyebrows, “It's time for us to go on a date.”

Sam's standing outside of my car, his arms crossed and a look I can only describe as a mixture of amusement, jealousy, and irritation on his face. I'll give it to him; his facial expressions are what dreams are made of.

“Y/N, are you sure about this? Being bait isn't exactly the best plan…” He trails off, and I think he might actually be concerned.

I smile, “Sam, this isn't my first rodeo, and I'm usually on my own. And if it's Dean you're worried about, I think I can handle him.” I wink at him as Dean opens the driver's side door and climbs in.

“What are you two talking about?” he asks cautiously, his eyes moving between the two of us.

“Nothing. Let's get this show on the road. The faster we get this done, the faster I can get Norma’s famous apple pie.”

Dean looks at me with wide eyes, “There's pie?” I nod, and a wide smile crosses his face, “What are we waiting for then?” He turns the key, and Sam takes a step back. “You know the drill, Sammy. Stay close, but don't scare it off. This should be a piece of cake.” Sam nods and then walks to where the Impala is parked, gives a quick look over his shoulder, then disappears into the driver's seat.

“Is he always this anxious?” I ask as I fiddle with my seatbelt.

Dean scoffs, “Only when there's a pretty girl involved.” He glances at me from the corner of his eye and clears his throat, “You look nice. Pretty convincing date attire.” He pulls out into the main road, and I smooth down the edge of the dress I'd picked out earlier. I'm glad it's dark, or he'd be able to see how red my cheeks are.

“Thanks. I'm not really sure how observant a Mothman can be, but I figured we shouldn't chance it. I don't know how many more opportunities we’ll have, since I already blew one of his lairs to hell.”

Dean laughs, “Good point.” We drive in silence for a moment, and I guess it's too much for Dean because he turns on the radio.

Say you, say me say it for always That's the way it should be

Well, this is awkward. Nothing like Lionel Richie on a fake date, especially one that I'm beginning to think I'd like to be real. I clear my throat, “Turn here.”

Say you, say me say it together Naturally

Aside from the music, we travel the next few minutes in silence. I sneak a glance at Dean and his knuckles are white on the steering wheel. Surely he's not that worried about this hunt? I suppose he doesn't know me well enough to assume I'll be useful, but still.

“You can park here.”

He stops the car, but leaves it running. Lionel Richie is still going, Lord help me.

As we go down life's lonesome highway Seems the hardest thing to do is to find a friend or two That helping hand “So I guess we just wait?” I ask quietly, unsure of what to do now that we’re here.

Dean turns to face me as well as he can in the cramped front seat. Maybe we should have brought his car. “Well, we should probably sell it. You know, make it believable.”

“Mmhmm. That's...that's a good plan.” I'm stuttering because as I'm talking, he's moving closer to me. Dean Winchester is an inch away from my face, and never in a million years did I think this would ever be an option, fake or not.

Someone who understands That when you feel you've lost your way You've got someone there to say I'll show you

His hand gently cups my cheek, and it's rough and warm; a hunter’s hand. I can guess where the callouses and scars are from because I have my own. I close my eyes and drink it in for a moment. I've had my fair share of one night stands and meaningless romps in the backseat of this car, but it's been awhile, and something about Dean feels different. Ruse or not, I'm going to savor it.

Say you, say me say it for always That's the way it should be

Before I can open my eyes, his lips are on mine and boy are they a contrast to his rough hands. They're soft, and they fit against my lips like they were made to be there. His hand moves to my hair and his fingers are tangled and it takes everything I have to not moan when he gives it a gentle tug. If this is acting, what in the hell is this like for real? If I ever have the opportunity to find out, I might just die.

Say you, say me say it together Naturally

He smiles against me, and I pull back for air as I look at him questioningly, “What?”

“You're a good actress. For a second there, I thought you might be enjoying it.”

I shrug, “Well, it's all part of the gig. Sometimes you have to make some sacrifices.” I say it with a wink, and for the first time in my life I actually pull it off smoothly. ‘Atta girl.

Dean looks around, then squints through the window, “I don't see anything, do you? I don't hear anything, either.”

I look through the windshield, “No, but Lionel’s dulcet tones could be covering up any sound. Seems pretty quiet, though.”

Dean's eyebrows furrow in concentration, then he suddenly brightens as he looks at me with a grin, “I think we need to up the ante a little bit. Get in the backseat.”

I can feel my jaw drop, “Excuse me?”

Dean is already scrambling between the seats to get in the back, “We've gotta sell it, Y/N, or we’ll never catch the Mothman. Come on, hurry up.” I stare at him, suddenly recalling the stories that I'd heard that weren't so great. Sam and Dean were heroes but, by all accounts, also very dangerous. I've always ignored those bits but now, sitting in the dark with Dean after only knowing him for a few hours, I was beginning to wonder if I'd made a bad call.

He leans forward, and though the only light coming into the car is from the full moon, his moss green eyes shimmer. “Do you trust me?”

The answer should probably be no, but there's something different about Dean, something more than any other hunter I’ve met.

So you think you know the answers, Oh no Well the whole world has got you dancing That's right, I'm telling you It's time to start believing oh yes Believing who you are You are a shining star

“Yea, I trust you.”

He smiles, “Then come on!” He holds his hands out and I start to climb over the back seat. My feet get tangled and I can feel myself start to fall.

“Dean!” I shriek as I feel gravity take over and I start to fall awkwardly into the backseat. This is exactly why I never wear dresses. I feel arms wrap around my waist, and I squeal as I fall into Dean’s lap, “That was ladylike.”

Dean laughs, one arm draped across my lap and the other wrapped around my back. He wets his lips as his eyes search mine, “I thought it was adorable.” He somehow manages to flip us around so that my back is flush with the seat and he's hovering above me.

“That was smooth. You know, you could take a lady out to dinner first.”

He leans in, his lips ghosting over the shell of my ear, and I shiver. “Technically, I did pay for dinner...so…” He trails off and kisses me again. I wrap my arms around his neck, my fingers running through the short hairs at his nape, and sigh into him. Fake or not, this isn't something I'll be forgetting any time soon.

Say you, say me say it for always Oh that's the way it should be Say you, say me say it together Naturally Say it together, naturally

Just as the song fades out, I hear a snap of a twig. I pull away from Dean and put a finger to his lips to quiet him. I nod my head towards the sound and raise my eyebrows. He frowns as he cocks his head and tries to pinpoint where it came from. There's another snap, this time from a different direction, and Dean pushes himself away from me. Just as he begins to sit up, the door flies open, and he's jerked through the opening and into the darkness.

“Dean!”

I scramble to get out of the car, and all I can hear is thrashing and grunts as Dean tries to get away from whatever grabbed him. It occurs to me that the shotgun I have hidden for this very scenario is in the front seat and not the back, so I fumble with the door handle and dive into the front.

“Y/N! Run! It's not-” Dean’s frantic cries are interrupted by what sounds like an incredibly hard punch.

“I’m coming! Hold on!” I grab the shotgun but drop the handful of shells I'd grabbed from the glove compartment. “Shit!”

“Y/N, run! It's not Mothman, it's just a person! It's a person!”

I freeze. A person? All of the disappearances and Mothman sightings...and it's a person? Dean runs back out of the tree line and is waving towards the car, “Get in the car, go! Get Sam!”

I look back towards the car, then shake my head, “No. A monster is a monster, Dean! We can't let him hurt anyone else!”

Before Dean can answer, a huge man bursts through the brush and tackles Dean to the ground. Dean’s head hits the ground hard, and he goes limp. The man stands up and sneers at me. Shit. I aim the shotgun and pull the trigger, but it doesn't slow him down. He crosses the space between us in three huge strides, and I'm quickly trapped between him and the car. He backhands me hard across the mouth, and the force of it causes me to drop the shotgun.

“You're pretty. I like you...I might just keep you alive.” He's holding a knife, and I can feel the cool metal trace along my jaw and down to my throat. I try to pull away, but he’s twisted his hand into my hair and any move I make makes it feel like my scalp is on fire.

“You can take me, just leave him alone. Don't hurt him anymore.” There's a tightness in my throat, and it occurs to me that I'm willing to sacrifice myself for a man I barely know...but it's also a man that's lost almost everything to save the rest of us.

The man holding me laughs, “You obviously don't know how this works.” He leans in, and I cringe as he sniffs my hair. “I can't leave someone alive. I'd get caught. The difference with you is that you're not going to get away, alive or not. I think that's worth the exception.”

I take a deep breath, “I see…” I pull my leg back as far as I can with the car behind me and kick him in the balls as hard as I can. Whatever protected him from the shotgun blast I sent his way didn't cover that part of his body, and he releases me with a whining groan as he falls to his knees. I bring my knee up hard into his chin, and it gives with a sickening crack. I think I just broke his jaw. He falls over, and I run over to Dean, sliding to a stop next to him.

“Dean! Hey, handsome, c’mon. Wake up...please wake up. We've gotta go, I think I broke him.” Dean groans and rolls his head towards the sound of my voice, but his eyes stay closed. “Dammit, Dean, get up!” I look up, and instead of the collapsed giant I expected to see, the grass is empty. “Shit! Dean, come on-” I'm cut short when something grabs me by the hair from behind, “Shit!” I scream, the pain the worst I've ever felt. The monstrous man drags me by the hair back to the car, and I can feel every stick and stone on the ground digging into my flesh. I'm crying, I can't help it. I try to call for Sam, but the only sound I can make is a strangled sob.

The man remains quiet, and when I look up I see that his jaw is at an awkward angle. How he's functioning enough to continue his attack, I have no idea, but I do know that nothing I can do at this point will stop him. Short of Sam showing up, Dean and I are screwed.

The man twists my arm behind me, hard, and shoves me into the ground. I can feel the bone aching to give, and one more twist will probably do it. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait, but the moment never comes. Instead, a strong gust of wind blows over us, and the man releases his grip on my arm. I scramble away and cower against the car as I look up and see the impossible. After everything I've killed, every monster I've fought that by all accounts shouldn't have existed, the very one I grew up listening to stories about is above my head, it's giant wings sending waves of dusty air in my face.

The Mothman swoops down and hits the man with a giant claw, tearing a gash across the man’s face. The only thing he can do is scream as he hits the ground. He throws his arms up in front of him, as if that's going to stop whatever the huge creature is going to do next. It drops down and wraps both talons around him, one close to his throat and one around his waist, and flies up into the air.

“Y/N!” I jerk my head around and see Sam running across the clearing, his eyes wide as he slides to a stop next to me. “Are you okay? What the hell is going on?”

“It wasn't the Mothman...it was just a person, Sam. A person did all of it.” I look up into the sky to see the large creature disappear into the trees, deep in the TNT area. The serial killer that had been wreaking havoc in Point Pleasant was just a dot in its huge feet. “I think...I think the Mothman just saved us.”

Sam helps me stand up, and I cradle my arm gently against my chest. I hear a groan and look over to see Dean slowly sitting up, a hand to his head. He looks over and sees me and Sam standing dumbfounded.

“What the hell happened?” he mumbles.

I look back up at the lightening sky and shake my head, “You're never gonna believe it.”

The Impala is warm against my back as I lean against it, my bones aching with a combination of exhaustion and the wringer they'd been put through earlier. I close my eyes and let the sun soak into my bruised skin. The last twenty four hours have been a whirlwind, and I am looking forward to curling up in bed and sleeping for the next week. I hear someone walk up to me, accompanied by the familiar hiss of a beer bottle being opened. I open my eyes and raise an eyebrow.

“A little early for that, isn't it?”

Dean pops open another one and hands it to me, “Nah. We've not been to sleep yet, doesn't count.”

I take it and sigh contentedly as I wrap my fingers around the cool glass, “Fair enough.” I take a long drag and relish the earthy bitterness of the beer as it slides down my throat. “So. Mothman is actually trying to help people. Like, that's a legit thing that's happening.”

Dean shrugs, “Weirder things have happened.” He raises his beer to his lips, and I can't help but wish our little show hadn't been interrupted. Not really something I should think about right now, but you make out with Dean Winchester and see if you can think of anything else.

“I can't think of any, but sure.” We watch the sky for a moment, and I feel him shift a little closer to me. “How long are you guys staying?”

“I figure we’ll take at least a day or so. We don't have anything lined up and…” his hand drops down to where mine is, and his fingers intertwine with mine, “I know someone that I owe an actual date. One that involves Norma’s famous apple pie.”

“Oh, yea?”

He smiles, and it's enough to stop the world. “Yea. A serial killer interrupted us, kinda put a damper on things.”

“Hmm...I didn't know that was a real date. I just thought you were a really good actor.” I grin at him, and he shakes his head.

Dean grabs the beer from my hand and sits both of them down, then grabs me by the waist and pulls me into him, “Oh, you'd know if I was acting. That was the real deal, sweetheart. I guess I'll just have to show you again.”

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#moeyy’s awkward moments birthday challenge #mythical creatures challenge #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean x reader #reader insert #mothman

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louisfeatharry · 7 years

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* newly added fics to my fic rec page as of 05/29/17

Amazing Sin by thecheshirepussycat (56k) [au, friends to lovers, pining]

Gears started turning in Louis’ head. Purely mischievous gears that had Louis formulating a revenge plan against Taylor. He’d had enough of sitting around and taking it. If she was going to call him a whore, then fine, he’ll act like one for real. “I’m going to say something, and as my friends you are obligated to love me anyway.”

“This can’t be good,” Niall said, Zayn just groaned.

“So I know we have this strict ‘no lashing back at Taylor’ rule with me, but what if I can get press revenge a different way?” Louis asked. He wasn’t expecting an answer, because they knew by now to just go with it. “What if I stole her boyfriend?”

Or, the story of Louis ‘Steal Your Man’ Tomlinson.

as a memento from me by aliferuined (15k) [au/ou, 5+1 things]

Five lives in which Harry and Louis didn’t end up together, and one in which they did.

Dance to the Distortion by Lis (domesticharry) (96k) [au, uni, fake relationship, enemies to lovers]

Louis accidentally breaks Harry's camera lens and in order to get it fixed, they decide to participate in a romantic couples study. The only issue is that they are not actually couple. Well that and the fact they cannot stand each other.

Every Arrow That I Aim Is True by estrella30 (24k) [ou, friends to lovers]

“I can see you don’t believe me,” Harry says, pretending to be stern. Louis chuckles a little but doesn’t get out of the bed. “Anyway, I texted Liam and told him you’re with me. He said to stay here as long as you need, and he’ll deal with the show over there until you want to come back, all right?”

Louis doesn’t say anything again so Harry whispers, “Just stay here with me for a while, yeah? I’ll take care of you.”

Louis is quiet. He never picks his head up, but Harry can see the pillow move from where he’s nodding and his fingers tighten around Harry’s. “Yeah,” Louis says. “Yeah, all right.”

got the sunshine on my shoulders by hattalove (124k) [au, based on a movie, getting back together, slow burn, angst]

five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn't have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.

now, harry has everything he could possibly want: he's rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he's forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who's spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.

(or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)

He kissed my lips, I taste your mouth by MrsStylinson (290k) [au, neighbors, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, pining, angst]

When Louis moves into the flat next to Harry's, neither of them thinks it will change their lives. Louis is stuck in a relationship with his controlling and overly possessive boyfriend who he loves too much to break up with.. Harry is content, seeking refuge from the snobby world he grew up in and forging a new path for himself. He does happen to have a habit of wanting to fix people though and when he meets Louis, the gorgeous man with a prat of a boyfriend, he finds himself trying to do just that. While Harry tries to avoid getting tangled in a messy situation, Louis tries to deny that there's a niggling voice in the back of his head that prefers Harry to his own boyfriend. While both studiously refuse to let change come, they fail to notice that exact force wrapping around them and pulling them tighter together until there just might be no escape from the feelings brewing within.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) by thedeathchamber (55k) [au, hurt/comfort, angst]

Harry thinks he has good reasons for avoiding relationships. Meeting Louis puts those reasons to the test.

I Could Do Without A Tan On My Left Hand by fookinglousers (7k) [au, 5+1 things]

The five times Harry's blind dates go horribly wrong and the one time it goes horribly right.

No Bleeding Hearts by whoknows (12k) [ou, coming out, angst]

“I’m going to come out,” Louis says abruptly. His grip on the controller is tight, knuckles whitening. He doesn’t look at Harry when he says it.

“What?” Harry says. Louis sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“When we re-negotiate our contracts. I’m going to come out.” Harry fumbles with the controller and manages to set it down on coffee table without cracking it in half.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Harry says. Louis is still pointedly not looking at him.

“I’m not having this argument with you again, Harry,” Louis tells him. He leans forward and deposits his own controller on the table beside Harry’s before standing up. “I’m gonna go to the hotel.”

Par for the Course by colourexplosion (36k) [au, famous/nonfamous, friends to lovers, pining]

Harry's right there. In person. Wearing a ridiculous purple golf shirt and those stupid gloves that keep the clubs from flying out of your hands when you swing and he's staring at Louis like he's just seen a fucking ghost.

Though, Louis supposes, he really sort of has.

Or, a golf au.

(based on the summary of Becky Wicks' Before he was Famous)

Pure Imagination by toolatefordancing (52k) [au, enemies to lovers, slow burn]

Pure Imagination is full of bright colors, rhyming words, and bright smiles. It's Louis' creation, his very own local broadcast children's show. That is, until Harry comes in, a spoiled rich kid who wants a part of the show for himself. Louis doesn't take it well.

Liam is Louis' surf-instructor roommate and has a deep connection with his bong. Niall and Zayn are a couple that likes to get tipsy in bars.

Rain Is Falling, Looks Like Love by PearlyDewdrops (30k) [au, fluff]

Louis Tomlinson has a pretty ordinary life. He works in a small record shop in the heart of Manchester, shares a flat with a boisterous Irishman, is being pestered to date by his best friend Liam, and has a mind that's far too restless to settle for anything less than an adventure.

Enter Harry Styles, a boy with galaxies in his eyes, flowers in his hair and an unspoken promise to give Louis exactly that.

Say Hallelujah, Say Goodnight by alivingfire (110k) [au, historical, fantasy]

Louis is an angel who is just a little too bad to be good, Harry is a demon who is just a little too good to be bad, and they're both a little too in love to be impartial when angels and demons go to war.

Louis has been alive since life was a mere concept; he watched the summoning of Man into existence, he was there when Eve took the apple. He’s seen seas break the world into separate pieces, he’s watched empires crumble into dust. He’s seen wildfire consume cities, he’s seen the world painted white with snow. He has known the most beautiful humans to walk the planet, he has watched the most powerful mortals gather their riches and influence around them and then die just like the poorest, weakest humans do. He’s met humans whose motives defy explanation, people who use their lives as battering rams, as tools, as weapons, as chess pieces.

None of that stopped Louis in his tracks.

But Harry did.

The Dead of July by whimsicule (117k) [au, fantasy, action, hurt/comfort]

Being an Avenger means continuing to be Captain America and smiling and being honorable for the public and Harry does his best. But it doesn’t give him time to figure out who he is supposed to be once he takes off his uniform and puts the shield to the side. Just being Harry had always involved Louis, and Harry fears he doesn’t know how to exist without him.

or: Harry is Captain America, and Louis’ been dead for 70 years.

True North by navigator, quitter (25k) [ou, friends to lovers, pining]

Altered-canon non-au set between November 2012 and January 7th, 2013.

Waiting On You by emma1234 (76k) [au, fantasy, friends to lovers, action & adventure]

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

You’re the Light by allwaswell16 (31k) [au, boss & employee, angst, pining]

Before beginning a new graduate school in the fall, Louis Tomlinson decides to spend the summer working in Chicago as an editor’s assistant for the Chicago Tribune newspaper and staying with his old college roommate. What he finds on his first day of work is a tall, gorgeous editor named Harry who has the most beautiful green eyes he’s ever seen—and who also happens to be his new boss.

#fic rec list #recentrecs

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bakurapika · 7 years

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ok, real talk, with the prefacing disclaimer that i love hamilton down to my very soul

when i first listened to it, i came away thinking ‘wow, that was awesome, life changing, etc... too bad about the women’

i was surprised to learn that lin is a feminist and deliberately tried to include women as much as possible, and i think i finally figured out why it rubbed me wrong

debatably......... (mostly determined by how you interpret ‘the schuyler sisters’)....... hamilton fails the bechdel test.

hear me out! a series of essays--

the only songs that a female character sings in a non-supporting role (i’m not counting non-named ensemble women! sorry, they add a lot to the musical but they’re not “characters”) are explicitly about their relation to a man. the only ones i can conceive an argument against are the schuyler sisters and maybe the ending song. let’s go song by song:

alexander hamilton:

female lines are only ‘i loved him’

aaron burr sir - my shot - the story of tonight

no female lines

the schuyler sisters

first of all, let’s start off by saying that story-wise, the song only exists in order to establish hamilton’s future love interests and peggy

first lines are all about daddy schuyler. that part of the convo fails the bechdel test

maybe you could argue that the lines ‘But—look around, look around, the Revolution’s happening in New York’ are character-defining enough to separate from the daddy convo but i think that’s a stretch for a sentence fragment

the chorus about ‘looking for a mind at work’ is prefaced by the men in the ensemble shouting ‘she’s looking for me!’, necessarily creating a sexual/romantic undercurrent to the chorus whether that’s technically what angelica meant or not. the rest of the interactions in the song reinforce this concept

the rest of the song, feminist revolutionary anthem though it may be, is angelica rebuffing burr’s romantic advances (while talking about men, including a man she’d later to have an affair with....................... but that line about getting busy with jefferson in france was deleted from the musical so i suppose for this conversation it’s non-canon)

the only potentially defensible non-man-related lines would be how angelica goes on to sing about manhattan being awesome and revolutionary, but I’d still argue that it’s in the context of her burr conversation and therefore not eligible to make the musical pass the bechdel test.

farmer refuted - you’ll be back - right hand man - a winter’s ball

no female lines

a winter’s ball mentions a woman by name (martha washington) in the context of hamilton’s reputation with the lay-deez

helpless - satisfied

these are romance songs. like that’s not bad but for the purposes of arguing that the women are characters outside of love interests......... nah

though angelica talks to herself enough to almost make it count lmao except it’s still about her male love interest

the story of tonight - wait for it

no female lines

wait for it mentions a woman by name (theodosia bartow prevost) in the context of being burr’s love interest

stay alive

eliza and angelica get some chorus lines about wanting their love interest to survive

ten duel commandments - meet me inside

no female lines

eliza is mentioned but not by name, just as “wife”

that would be enough

eliza’s “i’m pregnant by hamilton” song. again, not unimportant, but not relevant for the bechdel test and further cementing her role as hamilton’s wife and not much else

guns and ships - history has its eyes on you - yorktown - what comes next - dear theodosia

no female lines

dear theodosia mentions a woman by name (theodosia burr) but she gets no lines. this is probably excusable due to her being a newborn at the time

theodosia bartow prevost isn’t exactly mentioned by name but is mentioned as having died offstage at this point

nonstop

no female lines until significantly through the song

angelica’s lines are about hamilton being her love interest despite her marriage

eliza’s lines are about hamilton and being his wife

angelica and eliza sing toward the end about hamilton. again not bechdel-defying

though eliza and angelica’s lines often intertwine and chorus together, and though they supposedly have a very close sibling bond, so far we haven’t seen angelica and eliza interact (via letter or in person) since the wedding

what’d i miss - cabinet battle 1

no female lines

what’d i miss mentions a woman by name (sally hemings) but only in the context of her being a slave

this is more of a wink-nod to jefferson’s hypocrisy which is underscored by other parts of the song (singing about how ‘we are free’ as the stairs he’s on are being carried across the stage by a parade of slaves, for example. if yall don’t know about the historical sally hemings, check her out.

she was mostly white, for one thing. but historically white americans have viewed blacks in the context of the ‘one-drop’ rule--that is, if any ancestor of yours is black, no matter how far back, you’re black too. absurd from any standpoint except an absurd racial purity one. this wasn’t just a bunch of racists acting racist, btw, it was a legal argument that became law in the south at some points in american history.

i’m not pointing out her being white as like ‘aw but she was a white, so sad :((((’. it means that her family tree was mostly made up of masters having relations with their slaves that would be, at the very least, an extreme power imbalance and, most probably, rape.

like i’m sorry to use that word but that’s what it was, pure and simple.

oh and the white masters would get to keep their own kids as slaves

this was pretty frowned upon in polite society from my understanding, but it still happened all the time, and jefferson was one of the guys who did it

she was sent to france to take care of jefferson’s daughter during a (years-long) visit. sally was 14, jefferson was 44. she became pregnant on that visit at age 16.

technically she was considered free while in france, but she followed jefferson back to america. he promised he’d let their kids go free at age 21. (he almost definitely wound up fathering 6 of her children.) jefferson did free her male kids... in his will. and he freed two of sally’s male relatives after they bought their freedom. whadda guy

sally herself was finally “informally” freed by jefferson’s daughter

sadly sally was potentially illiterate and didn’t leave us anything in her own words

ok i’m sorry that was a tangent but i think it’s an important one so i’m not deleting it. i’m not an expert, that was a wiki summary, so please correct me if anything’s misinformation (tho i know i glossed over some details.) anyway back to hamilton

take a break

hoo boy. ok. so the female lines in this song can be basically classified this way:

i’m mommy to hamilton’s son (and i can beatbox about it like a mofo)

i’m in love with hamilton

i want to spend time with hamilton and my father

we do finally get angelica and eliza interacting with each other again! they say each other’s names. then we’re back to talking about hamilton

again, not a bad song! but disappointing from the standpoint of waiting for female characters to interact without it being about hamilton

to be fair! this entire musical is a love song to hamilton. i think i could find a few male-male conversations that aren’t about my dearest alexander. but not many. everyone wants a piece of alexander

probably most of the non-alex-worshiping lines would be king george

say no to this

a new female gets lines! she talks about her husband and then seduces alexander. that’s it tho

the room where it happens

no female lines

schuyler defeated

eliza gets a few lines! it’s all about her father and husband to her son

to be fair, eliza seems really bored with all this. philip’s the one who’s bringing all the men up.

still, her only role in this scene is to give context for a burr-hamilton confrontation, and she does it by talking about a bunch of men. no bechdel-passing here.

cabinet battle 2 - washington on your side - i know him - the adams administration - we know - hurricane

no female lines

“cabinet battle 2″ at one point contained a reference to jefferson and angelica’s affair, but this was cut to “tee up the next song”

again, angelica being mentioned solely as a love interest. still such good lines argh

“we know” mentions maria, but not by name, just as “wife”

and weirdly, she’s barely mentioned at all! the focus of the song is more on her husband james reynolds and his extortion

“hurricane” mentions eliza as well as hamilton’s mother, briefly

the reynolds pamphlet

angelica gets some bamf lines! and the idea of picking her love for her sister over her love for hamilton is more of the feminist anthem we like to hear.

but in terms of her role in the song, she’s there to romantically reject hamilton

she doesn’t talk with eliza directly, so still not enough to pass the bechdel test

eliza is mentioned as “mrs. hamilton” but has no lines

burn

another song that seems to be written from a feminist perspective! a woman reclaiming her voice in the annals of history

buuuuut............... it’s also primarily a song about eliza’s relationship with hamilton

we do finally get to hear more eliza/angelica direct correspondence! “Be careful with that one, love, he will do what it takes to survive” and “You have married an Icarus, he has flown too close to the sun.” beautiful lines, and pretty historically accurate too! but not enough to pass the bechdel test, since they’re about hamilton

blow us all away

a few new women gets lines! it’s about how wet their panties are for philip

the women have names btw, which you wouldn’t know just by listening to the soundtrack: martha and dolly, in reference to thomas jefferson and james madison’s respective wives. insert cuck jokes here

stay alive reprise

i don’t even wanna dissect this, it’s too heartwrenching. but all of eliza’s lines are with and about other men, including her son. her part in this song’s mostly about her role as the mother of hamilton’s child, not about her, specifically

it’s quiet uptown

surprisingly, angelica gets some lines at the beginning that aren’t specifically about a man! she’s referencing hamilton’s grief over his son, but also eliza’s grief. she doesn’t specify at any point that she’s focusing on alexander, and she goes for relatable generalizations instead. (until she becomes part of the chorus commenting on alex’s grieving process)

since angelica’s not talking with another woman, this still isn’t enough to pass the bechdel test. but it’s a start!

eliza gets very few lines here. i’m not necessarily saying that to be critical, though. i think her understatement is almost more powerful than hamilton’s tearful singing, and i think that’s what lin was trying to do with her character.

that said, again, her role in the song is hamilton-centered. no matter how many or how few lines she’s singing, they’d be about her husband and son

the election of 1800

no female character lines

we do get a few unnamed female lines, about a man yeah, but surprisingly as “voters” despite suffrage not yet happening!

this might be a case of historically inaccurate actor casting the same way that white guys aren’t playing all the pasty presidents

or, it could be a nod to women’s active role in historical elections! also acknowledged in the line “ladies, tell your husbands, vote for burr”

either way, not enough to pass the bechdel test, but still a nice touch that lin went out of his way for

your obedient servant

no female lines

best of wives and best of women

eliza’s so sleep-deprived here i s2g. there’s not much to analyze in lines that are basically ‘alex oh my god it’s four am, please just come back to bed for three goddamn hours, why are you like this, i’m going to sleep”

again tho, it’s eliza-hamilton interaction, no other women, so no bechdel passing

the world was wide enough

technically angelica sings three words in the chorus here (“angelica and eliza”) so i can’t say no female lines. but it’s close

women are mentioned but only in terms of their relationship to hamilton (his mom, angelica, eliza)

who lives who dies who tells your story

of course, eliza’s lines are mostly about hamilton again.... be weird if they weren’t at this point. she talks about her life but always brings it back to the context of hamilton and his passing

eliza and angelica sing a couple lines about hamilton together, but angelica dies offstage during the song

so............ last song and we still haven’t passed the test

i’m not writing this huge tirade for any, uh, real reason. i don’t want anyone to boycott the musical or even go so far as to call it anti- or un-feminist. but ✊😭 if there’s one thing alexander hamilton’s taught me, it’s “write thousands of inflammatory and highly politicized words for no reason, every day, just because you feel like it, even if it demonizes your allies, and if no one reads it, yell a lot and write some more”

i’m honoring your legacy, alex

(and bc i really do think it’s important to critically examine the things you love from time to time, and that doesn’t mean you love them any less)

#long post #alexander hamilton #hamilton musical #bechdel test

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jo-the-schmo · 7 years

Text

Breaking... Ch.2

A/N: Part two is finally done and it’s pretty long! I have no idea how to make links so if someone could message me and tell me how that would be apreciated ;-; Once I figure that out I’ll put one to part one on here so that no one has to go through my blog. Anyways I hope you enjoy! Here’s all the people who asked to be tagged, if you would also like to be tagged then just shoot me a message and I’ll add you in the next part! @iamnotthrowingawaymyshit @renae-writes

ok this is my attempt at trying to link this to part one

Part one

Word count: 3965 (oh)

Warnings: Anxiety/Panic attacks, allusions to sexual assault, more cursing(there will never not be curing)

Breaking Promises

There was no way, this was literally physically impossible. No Y/N, what are you crazy? Of course you didn’t travel back in time! There had to be some sort of explanation to this! Yet for some reason you couldn’t help your mind wander to that possibility. What if you had actually gone back in time? How would that even be possible? What are the consequences to you being here? How much have you changed by just breathing where you weren’t supposed to? More pressing, how would you get back if this was all real? This couldn’t be real, maybe you fell in some weird coma dream after that guy shot you. Hell maybe you were dead. You hadn’t even noticed how tight you were clutching your chest, how heavy and painful your breathing was.

Everyone had their eyes glued to you, Eliza was holding onto your shoulders to help you stand. Angie and the two little boys looked scared about what was happening. Alexander looked like he was trying to keep his composure but his eyes were searching for answers. You could see their lips moving but it took a few moments before you could actually hear them. Eliza’s voice flooded over you first, it sounded diluted, almost washed out.

“Y/N! Dear, you’re safe, you have nothing to fear.” Her voice snapped you back slightly, only enough to the point where you could actually look at her. She was simply glad that you were finally being responsive.

“Yes, that’s it now. I am here, we are here. I’m going to count; focus on what I’m saying. Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf…” She kept going, your head bobbing ever so slightly to the numbers but every time you thought you were about to calm down another thought came to mind. What if I really am dead? If I’m not, then how do I get back home? Can I even get home? Am I stuck here for the rest of my life?! Eliza looked over at Alexander frantically, he looked you in the eyes as his voice replaced Eliza’s. His was more clear than Eliza’s was.

“Miss Y/N, if you can hear me I would like to ask you to please nod your head.” You were able to do so and nodded slowly, a small bit of relief could be seen in his eyes.

“Very good, now take a deep breath with me.” He breathed in and you were able to shakily follow along. Eliza joined in with her husband, her voice was no longer hushed like it was before. Her voice was soft and comforting, she was a mother after all. A good one too if we’re being historically accurate. She was able to guide you through breathing well enough as to where you no longer were shaking, that was good. You fixed your posture and Eliza loosened her grip on you, for the first time in who knows how long you were able to speak.

“I’m, I’m sorry…” Your voice was feeble and weak, everyone’s gazes softened.

“Do not worry dear, you have nothing to apologize for.” Eliza said reassuringly.

“I have not seen anyone react to anything like that since the war. I do not know exactly what I said that upset you, but you should not be sorry, if anything I am sorry.” Alexander stated, his eyes completely focused on you to ensure that you wouldn’t regress. You nodded along, your head aching, not quite the same way it was earlier but still debilitating. You rubbed your forehead with the palm of your hand before taking one last deep breath. Okay, this is real, at least in some capacity it is. I really don’t want to think I’m dead so I should put that thought on hold for now. I’m standing in front of Alexander Hamilton, the very first Secretary of Treasury, the guy on the $10 bill. If I really have gone back in time, then I have to be careful. I could literally change all of history if I meddle around at all, hell even existing here is probably screwing everything up. Stupid Butterfly Effect. You made a silent promise to yourself to not break history; it was probably for the best anyway.

Opening your eyes, you saw Alexander and Eliza standing in front of you with worried eyes and downturned lips. These people, they don’t know who you are or how bad is it that you’re there. They don’t know anything about you and yet they treat you like a dear friend. You at the very least needed to thank them.

“Mr. and Mrs.…Hamilton I, I just wanted to say thank you for helping me, you know, calm down. That hasn’t exactly happened in a while…” You weren’t lying, it’s been a long time since you had a freak out like that. Not since graduation if I’m remembering correctly.

“My dear, there is no need to thank us. But you seem to be under a lot of stress, perhaps you need to take a break?” Eliza asked. Are we running away for the summer to go upstate? Shit, Y/N this is not the time for musical references! Pull yourself together! You allow yourself a moment to scream internally before responding.

“That won’t be necessary, I’ll be fine in just a second. Maybe we could sit down or something?” Wow that sounded dumb. Nice job trying to deflect yourself from the situation!

“Yes, perhaps that’s-“ Alexander started to speak before he was interrupted by a familiar, female voice.

“My apologies Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton but I wanted to inform you of Philip’s arrival…” Rachel locked eyes with you. “Miss Y/N! What’s wrong, did something happen?” She asked worriedly. She was standing in front of the now open front door, you could hear the sound wheels and some odd clacking from outside.

“Yeah, I’m fine Rachel, don’t worry.” You smiled at her meekly. Just as you were finishing your sentence a figure stepped up behind Rachel. He slid past her in the door way and his eyes scanned the room, his gaze finally fell onto you.

“Ah, Philip! Back later than usual aren’t we my son?” Alexander interjected with slight suspicion. Eliza patted him lightly on the arm before smiling at the young man making his way towards us. Wait… Philip? As in Philip Hamilton, the ray of sunshine in the midst of darkness? The sweet sunshine boy!

“There he is! My drop of sunshine! How was class today, love?” Eliza beamed. Oh praise we were right! The name is canon! His eyes never left you as he made his way over.

“Fine, class went well as always, mother… More importantly however, who might this lovely lady be?” Oh, of course this is coming from Mr. Let’s-strip-down-to-our-socks. I may indeed look good in my frocks but it is not happening today sir! He stops in front of you, holding out his hand with his palm facing up. He bows lightly and introduces himself.

“As for myself, I am Philip Hamilton.” He spoke with a slight chuckle and a sly grin. It took a second for you to realize you were supposed to give him your hand. You placed your hand on his palm, raising your hand to his lips he pressed a ‘polite’ kiss to your knuckle. This cheeseball really thinks he’s being slick, huh? You did your best to keep a straight face.

“My name is Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you, um, Philip was it?” You tried to hint that you were not interested. He stood back up with that grin still plastered on his face. You could finally get a good look at him as he stood in front of you. His slightly curled hair paired with the freckles splattered on his face reminded you of a piece by Jackson Pollock. Autumn Rhythms. His clothes were similar to his father’s but with color and fit were slightly different. The color itself was interesting, from far away it seemed to be grey but up close it looked to be more of a dull cyan.

“Yes, it is Philip, and if I may be so forward I’d like to say that your name is quite possibly as lovely as you.” This little shit, sunshine my ass, more like fuckboy. Wait a second was he the original fuckboy? Oh God no The Founding Fuckboys. You decided to stop thinking about that and try to look as serious as possible for someone thinking of ‘The Founding Fuckboys’ as a phrase used for the fathers of our country. You pulled your hand away and folded your arms behind your back, giving a sardonic smile towards his general direction. Alexander cleared his throat.

“Philip, my son, we were discussing some rather pressing matters before you arrived.”

“Oh? What matters exactly?” Philip questioned.

“I believe it would be best for us to sit down at the table first, supper is ready after all.” Eliza touched your arm gently before turning her attention to Rachel, who had stayed surprisingly silent throughout the conversation. Both of them turned to head down a separate hall, Alexander and the children followed them and just as you were about to join them Philip tapped you on the shoulder.

“Miss Y/N, as the eldest son, it would be politest of me to escort you to the table.” He held out his arm for you to take. Seriously? Okay, at this point this is just getting ridiculous.

“Thank you Philip, I’m sure it would be polite of you to lead me down a hallway, but I can walk myself just fine thank you.” You started to walk away with a bit of annoyance, you stopped and turned to look back at Philip. He looked shocked, not upset or angry, just shocked. You decided to add something to even the playing field slightly.

“Also, Mr. Hamilton, calling me Miss seems a bit formal. Just call me Y/N, after all I’m probably around the same age as you.” Although you were still a bit annoyed by his previous attempts to flirt when you clearly weren’t interested, you couldn’t help feeling a little sorry about how dejected he looked. You gave him a friendly smile and you could literally see his shoulders relax. Wow, was he really that tensed up? His surprised expression was quickly changed to one of intrigue. He folded his arms behind his back and spoke up once more, even his voice sounded more relaxed.

“Very well then… Y/N, forgive me, my behavior was not very becoming of me. If you could find it in yourself to pardon me for my actions, then I would be greatly appreciative.” His voice was softer and genuinely apologetic.

“You’re forgiven, now we should probably follow the others. Don’t want to miss dinner right?” You chuckled and turned back around to walk down the short hallway. Philip jogged up to walk beside you, a soft laugh escaping him as he approached. The two of you walked toward the dining room, Philip making offhand jokes about his parents along the way. Everyone was already sitting and adjusting themselves to be more comfortable by the time you had gotten there. Angie’s head perked up when you stepped into the room and when she noticed Philip at your side a mischievous grin replaced her innocent smile.

“Ooooh! Philly’s found his beloved!” She teased happily. You couldn’t help but laugh at her antics. What did Alexander call her earlier? Sunshine girl? Yeah, she’s the real sunshine in this house.

“Angelica, please, it’s rude to insinuate such things.” He buried half his face in one of his hands, you could tell he was a little embarrassed. Oh siblings, the only people who are allowed to ruin your day. You walked to an empty seat at the table, Philip was about to pull the seat out for you but he stopped himself.

“Sorry, force of habit.” He shrugged with a smile before making his way to the other side of the table to sit across from you. You shook your head and rolled your eyes. Well, at least his little shit levels are manageable. What a dork. On the table you saw some sort of bread? It looks like bread but it’s got a funny shape to it. A few older women came out of a set of doors, their clothes were similar to yours and they were carrying bowls in their hands. A bowl was set down in front of everyone, when yours came you could finally see what it was. Some kind of stew? Honestly why am I surprised, New York was prominently Dutch during the colonial era. Wow I really am majoring in history aren’t I?

“Y/N dear, I know you’ve been having…a rather trying day so you do not have to tell us what happened quite yet. But if you think that you are well enough then we will listen.” Eliza cooed. What happened? What is she… Oh shit this is bad. I showed up on their doorstep with blood pouring from my head and definitely not wearing the proper attire for the century. Not only that but I’ve been saying things willy-nilly, how the hell am I supposed to explain my situation? You looked up to see Philip staring at you, not so much at you actually but at the bruise on the side of your forehead. Did he not notice it until now? Okay, if I tell them I don’t want to talk about it I’ll just have to do it later. I need to think of something now while I remember everything I’ve said in the past few hours. Come on, four years of Drama Club don’t fail me now! You took a deep breath to ease your rapidly beating heart.

“It’s fine Eliza, it’s probably best to get this off my chest now rather than later.” You cleared your throat. Alright, keep it simple and easy to remember.

“I’m from upstate New York, although I haven’t lived there for some time. When sickness came through downtown, my father decided I was to move down to North Carolina. I’m the only child that survived to adulthood so it was rather important that I stay as far away from the illness as possible.” Yes! Off to a good start! Everyone at the table was fully invested in what you had to say. They know that I can read, that’s what Eliza meant when she said she was surprised that I was educated. Only wealthy people were well off in education. I’m going to have to explain that.

“Honestly, my father is the one to thank for my wellbeing. He insisted that I have the best education; my mother was educated as well. I learned to read and write. He also made sure I had an appreciation for art as well as music. Though I must confess, I always had an infinity for politics and history. And my father indulged those interests.” Alexander seemed to take the most interest in what you were saying. Shit, I’m running low on ideas… Okay, Okay, what’s left? How I got here and why… Grand Finale I guess? I don’t know what to say… Fuck, this is going to get personal, I have no other options here. You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Unfortunately, my parents passed from the disease last year. Land and money can’t be passed down to unmarried women so once word of their deaths went around I had several…visitors.” Damn it all.

“There was…one in particular that was, uh, a bit more aggressive than the others. I came back to try and get away from him but he found me. I was lucky to escape before anything really serious could happen.” You couldn’t help but look away from the eyes staring at you.

Eliza was the first one to break the silence. She swiped at her eyes and, after clearing the lump that formed in her throat during your story, she pushed her chair back and rounded the table to get to you. Eliza enveloped you into a warm embrace.

“Oh, you dear, sweet child. How horrible! No lady should ever be put into that situation. And no gentleman should ever press his advantages. I cannot even imagine! No wonder you were in such a disarray when you arrived.” You were taken aback for a moment but you couldn’t help it when you hugged her back. She pulled away and smiled warmly, smoothing down your hair with one hand. Alexander slowly stood up and walked to stand beside his wife.

“I believe I speak for all of us when I say that we would be honored for you to stay here with us.” He said with a proud smile. How are they so nice? Eliza nodded in agreement.

“Yes, Alexander is right. We’ll have a room set up for you in no time.” You didn’t know what to say for a second. You felt guilty for lying to them, even if they weren’t total lies and you knew you couldn’t actually tell the complete truth. All you need is a place to stay until the threads of time shove you back to the time where you belong. Until then you need to lie low and try not to destroy the space time continuum. Easy, no problem at all.

“You’re too kind to me Eliza, thank you both so much.” You smiled as wide as you could manage but you knew your eyes were still downcast.

“Now I’m sure none of us want to exhaust you anymore so if you need to talk to any of us we will gladly do so. For now, let us all relax and eat supper, you must be starving dear.” Eliza ran her thumb across your cheek before her and Alexander went back to take their seats. You sat down and looked at the seat across from yours. Philip sat silently for a second until your eyes met. He didn’t look at all like he did earlier, no cheeky grin, no playful shine in his eyes, it was all replaced with something that resembled being distraught. He mouthed a sentence to you so that no one could hear him.

“May I speak with you later?”

“Of course, Philly” You mouthed, giving him a weak smile. Eliza and Alexander sat back down in their seats, an oddly comfortable silence filled the room. You looked around to make sure there wasn’t some specific way to eat the food, you settled with just trying to eat it as quickly and quietly as possible. That was kind of hard though, once you took a bite you realized how right Eliza was. You felt like you hadn’t eaten in days. Eliza filled the silence.

“Alexander, love, how was work today?” She smiled at Alexander, he didn’t seem to be happy though.

“He doesn’t even have a real job… Washington should have done something about him.” Was all that you were able to comprehend through his angry mumbles. Eliza heaved a sigh.

“We talked about this Alexander, John Adams has a job. And while we’re at it you must remember that George is no longer in office, he is back in Virginia, Adams is our president now.” Eliza explained. Wait, didn’t he say earlier that he worked under Washington? How can he work under him when Adams is in office?

“Betsy, I refuse to accept that that man is the leader of the country I fought for! He’s arrogant, ignorant and anti-charismatic!” Wow, he really didn’t like Adams did he? I guess I can’t blame him too much, no one really liked him as a follow-up to Washington.

“If that scoundrel thinks that he has the right to call me “Creole Bastard” than he is utterly mistaken!” Alexander spat. That fat motherfucker. Eliza coughed, practically choking on the tea she was sipping, Angie was staring at you with wide eyes, Philip and Alexander had wide grins stretched across their faces. Philip actually looked like he was trying with every ounce of strength in his body to not laugh. Why are they all looking at me like that?

“What did you just say?” Alexander asked with a sort of twinkle in his eyes. Oh no, what did I… Shit did I say that out loud?

“Uh, what? Did I say something?” You shoved a piece of bread into your mouth so that you wouldn’t be able to say anything else. This isn’t good, not only did I just make a reference out loud but it was also something that you probably didn’t hear women say! Nice job with trying to keep a low profile Y/N! Alexander and Philip both started to laugh hysterically.

“A fat motherfucker? That is a rather astute way to describe him actually!” Alexander howled.

“That is quite the slur, I have never heard someone say something such as that so casually!” Philip snorted. Eliza slapped Alexander on the arm and stared menacingly at Philip.

“Alexander! Do not use that sort of language around the children!” I never knew that you could yell quietly until now, Eliza you truly are impressive! You haphazardly ate the bread that was in your mouth, everything was happening so fast, you didn’t even realize how red your face had gotten.

“I am so, so sorry Eliza! That was extremely improper of me!” Eliza shook her head, giving another sigh.

“It is alright Y/N, my husband and son are also at fault for reacting in such a way. Dear, would it be alright if I asked you to watch your speech, at least around the little ones.” Her voice wasn’t quite unpleasant in that moment, it just sounded like a mom who wanted to make sure her children didn’t say something wrong. Which is exactly what she was. How do mom’s sound so nice yet so threatening at the same time? You nodded in a rather exaggerated manner.

“Of course! No problem at all, I’m really sorry…” You ran a hand through your hair to shake it out slightly. Note to self, never cross Eliza. Mom skills too great.

Supper finished relatively quickly after that, Angie and the little boys from earlier plus one more you didn’t recognize were the first to scamper off. Eliza stood up after a little bit and excused herself, she said that she would be in the garden for a little while. Now that you think about it, even for the time period, her clothes were still a bit off. Her dress was almost flat in the front, not figure hugging like most of the clothes in the 18th century, in fact the cloth seemed to pull away from her body. Weird. Alexander coughed softly to get your attention.

“I apologize again Miss Y/N, I promised you talks of literature during supper. If you would like you may join my son and I in the study. Not only can we discuss Shakespeare, as my daughter has told me you enjoy, but we might also converse on our…mutual distaste for…President Adams” Alexander’s voice strained as he said the last two words. Philip looked at you expectantly, he gave you a comforting smile.

“That sounds wonderful, I’d love to join you.” You sat up from your seat and began to follow Alexander down the hall. You matched your pace with Philip’s so that you would walk side by side. He looked down at you and nudged your arm. Looking up at him to see what he wanted he turned his gaze away, pretending he hadn’t done a thing. You chuckled softly and repeated what he did, he gave you a similar response.

All I have to do is not change history, simple right?

#hamilton #alexander hamilton #eliza schuyler #hamilton fanfic #philip hamilton #gonna put more than one ship cuz I'm still confused a little #hamilton x reader #philip x reader #lafayette #he may show up soon #mulligan #time travel au #hamilton the musical #thomas jefferson #oooh that foreshadowing

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hoopyfrood · 7 years

Text

as promised, here’s ur first glimpse of katm (@knightatthemuseum) fic 👌👌

i’ll be uploading this to ao3 too when i start uploading all the companion stories in order, but it’s relevant, and these events just happened a few days ago, so it’s only fair u guys get this one now! 😜✌️

posting several days after new years rami style lmao

also context for anyone confused:

i run a natm blog set in an au where nicky goes to the british museum for his gap year and it posts in real time with what events are happening to nicky and lance, as well as fitting into canon as much as possible, and along with it im posting fics for backstory and extras!

no name for this fic just yet, so how about: sleepy boy parties too hard but its worth it because he’s gay as hell feat. sadly not enough tilly

“Ah, a New Year’s Kiss! Isn’t that nice?”

Nicky blinked and looked over at Lance and then at the exhibits dancing and singing in front of them, following their gaze until he got distracted by some of the tiny figures from Pompeii doing a Mexican wave. It wasn’t unusual for him to become sleepy during his hours spent at the museum, and as he’d been to a party earlier that night he was now really ready for a good long nap.

However, he’d promised he’d stay up for the new year, so he was sat on the stairs with Lancelot, who had taken a break from dancing, while several exhibits were partying before them in the Great Court to a 70s playlist provided by his dad. Nicky had put his music on shuffle earlier, but museum folks just seemed to be fans of disco classics. Larry stayed for Hanukkah, and it’d been great hanging out with him, but he’d left earlier that day; he’d gotten himself a dog for company and his grumpy neighbour had only agreed to look after it for just over a week.

Lance had been more excited to see photos of the dog, Betsy, than to see Larry himself. It was understandable, though, his dad was still a little wary of Lance after their first encounter when they almost got all the exhibits, including themself, uh, killed. Also, Lancelot really liked dogs and had an impossible dream of owning one in the priceless artefact filled museum.

His dad didn’t need to be cautious though, Lance was pretty harmless, in Nick’s opinion. Take their sword away and they were just a slightly confused, unfairly attractive person who enjoyed reality tv a bit too much.

Said knight was elbowing him again, which was kinda painful as they were wearing their full suit of armour for the occasion. They grinned and pointed over at the two statues sharing shy kisses.

“Those lovely ladies over there, isn’t it nice?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Nicky knew he should’ve feigned more excitement as Lancelot instantly turned to look at him with a worried expression. He sipped the cider they were sharing and tried to look more awake. New Year’s was a great time for the museum exhibits as it wasn’t long since they’d woken up, so they were ready to party, but Nicky didn’t think it’d be more than a few hours until he passed out. He’d try and stay up and enjoy the celebrations till then, though.

“Nick, what’s wrong?” They didn’t even need to ask if he was okay, they knew each other too well by now.

“Just tired. I did all my partying earlier, and, you know, I love DJing but being on your feet for so long really drains you.”

Lance crunched a handful of crisps as they paused to think. “You should rest, then.”

“No, I’m alright, just don’t ask me to dance, I’ll probably collapse,” He chuckled, but Lancelot was still fixing him with a concerned stare. “Just kidding.” Nick clarified, patting them on the leg in reassurance before helping himself to some snacks too, opting for the bowl of pretzels between them.

“I won’t be dancing myself either, I keep getting made fun of by this very mean guy with freckles who refuses to dress up for the occasion.” Lance told him, sniffing and looking away, opting for being dramatic, as per usual.

“Hey, this is a new sweater, I made some effort!” Nicky jostled them in the side and watched the grin spread across their face again. Lancelot could never remain serious for long without smiling, or just forgetting what they were doing.

“Armour is much more appropriate for an important event such as heralding a new year!”

“Not very practical though, at least I can dance in a sweater,”

“You’ve not gotten up to dance once! Half heartedly doing the hand movements to the macarena doesn’t count.”

“I’m tired! Look, my eyes are almost shut… can’t stay awake… time to collapse… ow!”

“You can’t miss the start of a whole new year, Nicky!”

“I’ll stay awake, just… don’t attack me with your evil metal fingers again.”

“What can I say? I have very well made armour. But my metal fingers will leave you be.”

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

The two shared a smile and then went back to snacking and watching the crowd of exhibits and their varied dancing styles. Tilly was teaching a cluster of people how to do the robot, with mixed results. She waved over to them excitedly and gestured to the exhibits next to her doing the awkward dance. Nicky and Lance both waved back in unison, Nick also giving her a thumbs up.

“When was your last New Year’s Kiss, Nicky?” Lance asked in interest, foot tapping to the music.

That took a bit of thought. “Uh… when I was fourteen and the only other boy who liked boys took pity on me at a friend’s party.” He smiled self deprecatingly as he remembered the girls avoiding him near the end of the night. He’d only recently come out as gay (later realising he was bi) and the only other known gay guy had given him a quick kiss before running off, leaving him alone to play a Pokémon game in the corner. Things hadn’t changed much, clearly, as before Lance found him he’d just been sat on his phone on the steps of the Court.

“That’s a long time ago.” Lance commented.

Nicky elbowed them in the side teasingly. “Not that it’s any competition, but when was your last kiss?”

To Nicky’s surprise, Lancelot turned the faintest bit pink. “William kissed my hand the night before he left, the same as I had greeted him.”

“Shakespeare?” Lance nodded in response to Nicky’s question. “Oh, I thought you were going to say Trixie or yourself or something.”

“Well, it was just a friendly gesture, I think it was, but it was nice of him.”

Lancelot wasn’t saying much which was an odd thing, as they usually wouldn’t shut up, but Nicky didn’t want to probe. They’d only recently gotten comfortable calling themself gay and being more confident in their sexuality: whatever it was, it wasn’t straight, and Nick didn’t want to push them to talk about crushes or anything. Will had gotten on well with Lance when he’d been part of the British theatre exhibition, and he’d been a surprisingly chill, flirty kind of guy who made terrible innuendos.

“That’s a long time with no kisses, though.” Lancelot was saying, and Nicky turned to see they were looking at him in thought.

“I guess. I’m used to it though, no big deal, man.”

“No, that won’t do,”

“Lance…” Now it was Nicky’s turn to feel heat rise in his cheeks. He didn’t know what Lancelot was planning but, oh man, he was already thinking of ideas and he really shouldn’t be thinking those ideas, they were ridiculous… but very welcome.

“Trixie! Come here, girl!”

Nicky breathed out a quiet sigh of relief. Then held his breath again as Trixie scrambled around the corner and sat at Lancelot’s side. She really was a loyal dinosaur, it reminded him of his friend Rexy, as boisterous as she had been, and it was a good thing they weren’t in the staff lounge for once as Trixie would probably have broken through the door frame and most of the wall to get to Lance.

“Now, give Nicky a kiss.” Lancelot commanded, clasping their hands together.

It was probably weird to not be scared by a giant triceratops looming down on you, but Nicky was used to it by now, having helped Lance train Trixie with the more difficult commands. The dinosaur butted her mouth against Nicky’s forehead then sat down again happily, and Nicky patted her side in thanks.

“Isn’t she a good girl? Yes she is! You’re a good dinosaur, Trixie!” Lance was saying, not in a cutesy voice like most people would use for a pet, instead they were proudly proclaiming how great she was while scratching her under the chin. After receiving the praise she wanted, Trixie ran off again in chase of something neither of them could see. It was New Year’s Eve, it was a party, neither of them could be bothered to run after her. Besides, she rarely broke anything lately, and if she did it was never any of the really important historical things.

It was a couple songs later after a comfortable silence between them when Lancelot spoke up again.

“Nicky, when are New Year’s kisses supposed to happen?”

“Uh, New Year.”

“Nicky!”

“What?” He smiled innocently while sipping his drink and avoided looking at his friend; he knew he’d lose his straight face pretty quickly if he saw Lance’s disgruntled expression.

Lance pushed some hair from their face so they could frown more clearly at him. “That’s not very helpful.”

“I’m not a very helpful guy.”

Nicky turned his head to give Lancelot one of his best teasing smiles, but just as he did he realised Lance was moving closer to him, their hands on his shoulders and then Nicky’s breath caught in his throat and… they kissed his eyebrow.

They both moved back quickly, Nicky now in utter confusion. What had just happened?

“You weren’t supposed to move.” Lance told him, and, now that Nicky was frozen due to being in mild shock and being held still by Lancelot, they kissed him lightly on the cheek, stubble brushing against his jaw.

“There. Happy new year!” Lance pulled away and patted him on the back, looking as though they felt very successful.

“Oh, right, happy new year, dude,” Nicky though of giving them a fist bump in return, then realised that would look a bit weird and he decided to just smile back before looking away.

Lancelot had no idea they’d just given him the best moment of his whole year and that was ridiculous, but it was also true, and he really wanted to run his fingers over where Lance had been against him and kissing him, and it was just his cheek, but, man, he suddenly felt wide awake. Nicky exhaled deeply and internally told himself to chill. He’d probably have handled himself better if he hadn’t had a few drinks. At least, he hoped so.

Lancelot looked completely oblivious, thankfully, to Nicky’s reaction. They were tapping both feet to the music now and picking the rocks of salt out of a pretzel with great concentration.

“Thanks, Lance,” Nicky told them, not sure if his friend had taken pity on him or just wanted to fulfil the tradition, but it was a nice end to the year. He wasn’t going to look into too deeply; the other was always an open person with expressing their excitement and love of their friends and things.

Lancelot patted him on the back, again, proving Nicky’s internal musings about their touchy feely nature correct, and nodded. “No problem. Everybody should get a kiss for New Years, I think.”

Nicky considered for the briefest of seconds kissing his friend back, but then mentally (and maybe physically? He wasn’t really sure what he was doing at that moment in time) shook his head to get rid of that thought. It was better to stick to their usual banter and move on.

Although… kissing for the sake of tradition was a pretty valid reason to do so. He wouldn’t have another chance for a year, and fuck knows where he’d be then.

Yeah, he might as well go for it.

“Guess you should get one too, yeah?”

He waited for Lance’s nod of agreement, then, as casual as he could be, Nicky held their jaw gently, and pressed a kiss to the side of their face. If he’d been somebody watching he would’ve walked over and slapped himself in the face; it reminded him of little kids shyly kissing each other during school recess or something. It was only for the sake of tradition, of course, but he felt a little nervous about it happening.

(Nicky was too busy keeping his eyes on Lance to notice, but later he’d be told that there was somebody watching, and it was Tilly, and she had been giving Nicky an unseen double thumbs up. She was very keen about setting people up in the museum, but unfortunately for her, it was just a casual thing.)

Lancelot looked surprised, but grateful, and they smiled. “Thank you!” Another person with a big crush on them might’ve been annoyed by how relaxed Lance was, but Nicky was glad to see them looking so happy and comfortable. It made him chill out, too.

Sometimes he was anxious about touching or hugging his friend too much, worried he was being too close, being too obvious about his feelings. He didn’t want to influence Lance, to make them feel they had to be anything other than good friends. So it was nice to just hang out, to get the warm buzz of alcohol in his body, to joke around and know that his friend was comfortable with the odd touch and hug, and kiss on the cheek. He really needed to start up a conversation to distract himself from thinking about moving his lips elsewhere.

“New Year’s Kisses are supposed to happen right as it becomes the new year,” Nicky told them, failing to think of anything to talk about but kissing. Great, not like that was weird. He was also pleasantly ignoring the fact he’d kissed them back way before midnight.

Lance didn’t seem to mind, though, they just looked thoughtful.

Everything had been a bit surreal, but it was hard to feel awkward around Lance, and even though Nicky was sure he was still blushing a tiny bit, the atmosphere was relaxed as ever. Well, he was used to the guy being close. It just happened that he’d liked this one action from them quite a bit more than all the hugs, though they were nice. Lance was nice, too, pretty great, actually. It was ten minutes to midnight now, and Nicky was glad to be spending the last few moments of 2016 with his closest friend.

“Well, hopefully I’ll get it right next year, then.” Lance replied with a nod, happiness returning as they munched on a pretzel and tapped their feet to Boogie Wonderland, while Nicky wondered if that promise would be fulfilled.

#this should post in the dead of night (well for me at least) im dropping it beyoncé album style #i'm such a perfectionist so i'll probably tweak it again before uploading it with the others #i have at least 3 others that will be setting up the au and background stuff #but more to come too ofc!#felix meows #my writing #natm #lanicky #hell knows we need more in that tag lmao #rebloggable #katm #katm behind the scenes #knightatthemuseum

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