#and its not just america because it would probably happen everywhere else | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thesolferino · 3 years

Text

Hell On Earth

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: fluff

⤷ word count: 3.2k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: you barge into clay’s office to complain about his broken air conditioner, unaware that he’s streaming.

Florida was hell.

You liked to say it as a joke, during October when the rest of the world was freezing, during December when the insane temperatures finally went back under control, and the sun granted you its blessing of a refreshing gust of wind every now and then. You liked to say it as a joke, mostly, but God, did you mean it whenever summer would creep around the corner and you’d get reminded of why you told your boyfriend so often that the devil must’ve left hell, came down to America, and bought himself a nice penthouse in Florida.

It lived up to its title of the hottest state in the US, by far, considering the hellish temperatures that constantly made you dizzy whenever June rolled around. You had great air conditioning in your apartment, though, and as soon as the sun started burning skin, plants, water, and everything in its way, you and your college roommate would lounge at your place as the air conditioner blew cold wind and thank the lord (and the person who invented AC, bless his heart) for providing you with at least one blessing during these trying times.

So, of course that as soon as summer came about, your air conditioning conveniently broke.

Your roommate was out of the apartment within two days, flying to her family in Wisconsin, bidding you farewell as she left you to cook like a raw chicken in your shared apartment. Thankfully, you had a boyfriend - and what a boyfriend he was.

You don’t like to brag, but at these moments, you feel grateful to the universe and whoever else is looking over you for providing you with a rich boyfriend, with quite a big, echo-y house, and air conditioning made of pure heaven. As soon as your roommate packed your bags, you packed yours too, - if one backpack filled with makeup, your laptop, meds, underwear and hopes that he’d let you steal all of his clothes could count as “bags” - locked the apartment and left, ready to leave the AC on snowman temperature for two days minimum and ignore all his complaints.

Bad luck seemed to follow you everywhere, though, because you were there for merely three days when the air conditioning started stuttering.

You were sprawled on the cold sheets of his bed, listening to the low hum of the AC as you scrolled through your phone, his white T-shirt sticking to your back, the cold air cooling the sheen of sweat that covered your body, leaving goosebumps all over. One of your fingers started lazily petting Patches’ stomach, and you could faintly hear Clay talking in the background, the sounds coming from his office.

“Thank you for the gifted subs! Um, yeah, it’s really hot here, I can barely, like, breathe in here. I have the AC on at highest, but all it’s doing is giving me a headache. Even-even my water bottle is completely hot.” You heard him rant and chuckled, turning on your side and continuing to scroll through random videos.

You sort of tuned out his talking, knowing he’d most likely be cooped up in that office for hours before your shared dinner, and started watching random YouTube videos, ignoring your surroundings as you shoved your earbuds in your ears.

The longer the videos lasted, the more you felt like you were suffocating. The heat crawled up on you slowly, sneakily, almost unnoticeable yet undeniably there, hand made up of pure fire gripping at your throat tighter and tighter. It started off seamlessly, with you rolling around, trying to find a new cold spot on the sheets, to pulling at the shirt, trying to create cold air to soothe you, to wiping the sweat that basically covered your entire forehead, when your eyes finally peeled away from your phone and you realised you were basically choking in the heat, feeling like you’re breathing fire.

You lift your head off the bed way too quickly, head pounding, and look at the one thing meant to save you from this madness - just to see it leaking water down the wall, barely coughing out any air. Your head miserably falls back down on the bed, hands rubbing at your face, dangerously close to both crying and screaming in distress. After a few moments of self-wallowing, you get up and make your way over to your boyfriend’s office, being met with nothing but silence as you walked to it, happy he ended the stream so you could complain and wail to him, possibly cool down using the AC in his office.

You slam the door open, seeing him hunched over in his gaming chair, Minecraft open as usual, and as soon as he takes one headphone off, turns around and sends a surprised but oddly panicked gaze your way, you start ranting.

“Babe, you won’t believe what just happened.” you said, rubbing a hand over your face again, eyes closing as you feel the coldness - in comparison to the living hell that was his bedroom right now - of the room wash over you. You don’t even let him speak before you continue.

“The fucking AC in your bedroom just broke. It’s leaking right now.”

Clay looks like he wants to say fifteen words at once, and the first one that comes out is: “What?”

“I swear. I was watching something on my phone, and I realised it’s crazy hot, so I looked up and realised it’s broken. Why does this happen to me!” you complained, and he tried pulling his headphones off for a second but instead pulled the cord out of the computer entirely, letting you hear everything that goes on in his headphones.

It’s silent for a second or two, before you hear a familiar voice.

“Dream.” you hear a British man with an awfully posh accent speak, and your eyes meet Clay’s in pure horror and realisation, when you slap a hand over your mouth. He looks as equally terrified as you, but also disappointed, because oh, that’s why he looked so panicked when you stormed in.

Then you hear another voice, equally British, but higher pitched. They laugh. “Is that Drista?”

Clay seems to snap back into reality, turning around towards the computer and adjusting his mic before speaking. “No- it’s- Tommy she said babe, why would Drista call me babe?”

“You’re so stupid, he was trying to help you.” You hear his long-time friend, Sapnap, deadpan, and you can practically feel all of them freaking out, while you stand in the doorway in horror, cheeks heating up despite the fully working AC.

Another laugh. “No, I wasn’t, I was genuinely asking. Why- Sapnap, why would I be helping Dream?”

“Dream, you are so stupid.” you hear George laugh into his mic and your boyfriend immediately starts stuttering, trying to defend himself.

“How-how am I stupid?! She’s the one who walked in, what was I supposed to do?” you lean against the doorway as he defends himself, head buried in one of your hands.

“Mute!” you hear Sapnap borderline yell, almost mad.

“Wait- I don’t get what’s going on- Does Big D have a girlfriend?” you hear the British boy, Tommy, ask, and all of them go silent for a few seconds before a loud, screeching laugh breaks out through the speakers, and when Clay turns around to look at you, all you can do is mouth an apology as you almost break out into laughter at how ridiculous the whole thing is.

“Oh my God, chat is going crazy right now.” George says while Tommy is laughing his lungs out in the background, still.

“Did you actually- did she actually- oh my GOD, Dream has a girlfriend! I can’t believe this!” Tommy keeps on laughing, coughing between sentences. “Dream stans, I am so sorry, this must be just a terrible, terrible day for you all.”

“You’re probably already trending on Twitter, dude.” Sapnap adds, sounding more worried than your own boyfriend did at the moment.

“It was bound to happen at some point, I guess.” he huffs out, turning around to look at you every so often, gesturing for you to close the door and come in, which you did, guilt weighing you down as you moved.

“Are you serious? Can I- Can I speak to your girlfriend, Dream?” you can practically hear the grin in the boy’s voice and Clay doesn’t even turn to you before replying.

“No, you can’t.”

“Oh, come on! You let me speak to your mum but not your girlfriend? Just for a little bit, please? I just- I just wanna see which lucky woman managed to get the attention of the Minecraft God, Dream himself. That’s it.” Tommy asks and you don’t even have it in you to laugh because of the anxiety that eats away at you, but then Clay sighs.

“...Fine, I guess.” he looks up at you. “D’you wanna speak to Tommy?”

You’re not quite sure what the expected answer is, but you shrug, gaze darting from his eyes to the computer, and then back to him. “Um… I don’t mind, I guess.”

You hear him sigh and plug the headphones back into the computer, handing them to you. “Alright, she said yes. Here you go.” he stands up out of the chair and lets you sit, placing the way too big headphones on your head as your heart races, standing closely by your side as you roll the chair further towards the desk and microphone.

“Um… hello?” you shyly speak, and you hear something like groans of mixed annoyance, confusion and nervousness coming from George and Sapnap as Tommy starts laughing immediately, greeting you loudly.

“HELLO, DREAM’S GIRLFRIEND!” you hear him yell in response as your shaky hands land on the keyboard, moving his character left and right.

“Is the AC really broken?” Sapnap asks and you hear George laugh in response, considering how unimportant that information is right now. You know both of them, obviously - you’ve talked to them more than a few times, joining in on their jokes when Clay talks to them on speaker, growing as close as one can with their boyfriend’s friends.

“Yeah, it is. The AC in here is really good, though. Maybe I should stay and just take over the Dream channel.” You joke and they laugh.

“Yeah, I mean it would probably be better. A woman owning the Dream channel would make it so much better. The views would skyrocket.” Tommy says and you see his character walk up to you before he randomly laughs again.

“I can’t believe- I can’t believe Dream actually has a girlfriend. Is he, like, paying you to do this, or are you really…” he trails off and you giggle at his question, switching tools in the hotbar as you try to figure out how to play the game again.

“No, he’s not. We are dating, yes.” you confirm with a nod, and you feel Clay’s elbow sink into the chair, almost trying to listen.

“Say 1 if he’s keeping you hostage.” he says and you laugh again, shaking your head.

“No, he’s not- he’s not keeping me hostage.” you reply and you hear Clay go “WHAT?” right behind you.

“Well, of course, of course, I mean, who could ever pass up dating the great Dream. With all those subscribers, and Twitch primes, and Minecraft skills. Did- did his Minecraft skills get you?” Tommy asked, but before you could even respond, Sapnap jumped into the conversation.

“Oh yes, absolutely. She loves it. Yes, Dream, speedrun faster!” he sarcastically replies and for a few moments the whole call is blown into loud laughter, screeching and yells before it quiets down.

“Yes, what Sapnap said. I was so impressed, he just blew me away, with um… with his, um, Manhunt skills? I dunno, I don’t play Minecraft.” you hear him laugh at “Manhunt skills” behind you as the rest of the boys start laughing too.

“Dream’s girlfriend doesn’t play Minecraft?! What?! Dream- how could he allow this, seriously…” Tommy argued dramatically, his character staring at yours - or rather Clay’s.

“I can’t imagine if we were both Minecraft players, that would be a nightmare.” you replied.

“Why?” you heard George laugh through the headphones.

“Who do you think peels him away from the damn computer? If I was just like him we would never get out of the house, probably.” you argued.

“Dreamfriend, what is Dream like, you know, in real life?” Tommy spoke up and you heard George giggle again.

“Dreamfriend?” you repeated, a grin forming on your face at his stupidity, finally deciding to move the character around and switch back to the sword in the hotbar.

“Yes! Dream’s girlfriend, Dreamfriend, Dreamgirl, Girldream, whatever you like.” Tommy said and you laughed.

“Dream girl… if I wanted to get clout off Dream I’d use that, that’s genius.”

“Thanks, I know I’m a genius, everyone tells me so.” Tommy claims and you shake your head, checking your boyfriend’s inventory to see if there’s anything interesting in there.

“Alright, I’m gonna check on the AC, I’ll be back in a second.” Clay says to you, before lowering himself to the mic so the boys could hear him. “Tommy, don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“Oh you know it, big man! I’d never!” Tommy yells back, despite Clay being unable to hear him, and he leaves the office with one last, quick kiss to your temple.

“Is he gone?” Tommy asks, and you nod and hum, despite him not being able to see you.

“Okay, so you don’t play Minecraft, right?” he asks.

“No, I don’t.” you reply.

“So there’s this really cool thing, right. If you just go in and type /op tommyinnit, there’s this thing that’s gonna-” Tommy doesn’t get to finish his sentence before he’s cut off by Sapnap, whose character suddenly appears in front of you.

“No, no, no, no, don’t trust him, you should-” Sapnap cuts in, but Tommy still loudly protests in the background.

“BE NICE TO OUR GUEST, SAPNAP! Let her do what she wants! She is Dream’s girlfriend after all, the most powerful woman.” Tommy claims and you laugh, sort of blushing from all the attention. You don’t even dare to check the chat or the donations that come in from Twitch, because it must be blowing up by now. As if he can hear your thoughts, George speaks too.

“Oh my God, Dream’s already trending on, like, five different spots on Twitter.” he says, and you instinctively grab your phone to check, before you can even think about it.

“What?” you and Sapnap both say in sync.

“Yeah, ‘Dream’ is trending #2 worldwide, and ‘Dream girlfriend’ is #4.” he lets out a shocked laugh.

“Oh my God…” you mutter out in both excitement, nervousness and dread as you open Twitter and confirm that George is indeed correct. You don’t even dare to press on either of the trends, simply turning off your phone with a sigh and moving back to stream.

“Wow, you’re famous now! How does it feel?” Tommy asks and you let out a quite dry laugh.

“Amazing. I can feel my value as a person increasing as we speak.” you respond sarcastically and hear George quietly laugh in the background.

Just then, you hear the door to the office opening again, but you ignore it because Tommy starts speaking.

“Okay, well, I’m sure that must be very fun and exciting for you, but I really will need you to type in /op tommyinn-”

“No! I’m not listening to you, Tommy! I’m not about to type in some stupid command and get yelled at!” you cut in, but he keeps on whining.

“Come on, we know Big D would never yell at his… beloved girlfriend! Listen, just do it, I promise he will not be mad.” he argues.

“What does /op even mean?” you ask out loud, and suddenly Clay is yelling behind you.

“Who is asking you to op them? Give me the headset!” he says, one hand already tugging at the headphones as you laugh while Tommy panics.

“Well, it was fun talking to you guys, but I have to go. Bye!” you bid them farewell and heard George and Sapnap say goodbye as well while Tommy yelled, and you took off the headphones and passed them to Clay who immediately put them on and adjusted them, plopping back into the chair. You left, moving to the living room to process everything that happened and abandon your phone for the next few hours because you were not ready for that type of attention in the slightest.

You laid in front of the TV, watching random shows on Netflix and grabbing a few snacks from the kitchen while you could still clearly hear him yelling and streaming, wondering how he’s still going as if nothing happened. The temptation to check what people were saying was overwhelming to the point your hands were itching to grab your phone and open all social media - before you even realised it, you were on the trending page again, thumb tapping on the “Dream girlfriend” tab.

You braced yourself for the worst, but that’s not what came at you - sure, there were a couple of tweets telling people to lay off you, and delusional shippers getting ratioed, but they were mostly positive, lighthearted jokes, from single people making jokes about how a Minecraft YouTuber can get bitches but they can’t, to people calling you cute/funny. One hate comment obviously stings more than a million positive comments make you happy, but they were mostly misogynists calling you annoying for the roughly five sentences you spoke on stream or shippers disappointed that their favorite YouTuber isn’t gay, so you didn’t really let it get to you.

When the house finally quieted down the sun was lowering itself into darkness and melting into a pot of blinding orange and golden honey, and you heard Clay’s footsteps when he finally turned off the stream, stepping into the living room a few seconds after you heard him. He sat down on the couch next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to him, sitting there in silence with you.

“So… that was something.” he finally broke the silence and you nodded.

“It really was.”

Another beat of silence passes.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I really need you to stop breaking all these ACs.”

“I’M NOT THE ONE BREAKING THEM-”

“Sorry, but I’m noticing a pattern here.” he wheezed, obviously just trying to get you riled up as you pulled away so his hand gets ripped off your shoulder.

“Shut up. You better have called someone to repair that damn thing, cause there is no way we’re sleeping in there without an AC.” you huffed, and he shuffled closer to you, arm wrapping itself around your shoulders once again.

“I did, they’re coming by tomorrow.” he assured.

“Tomorrow?” you asked, looking at him in disbelief. “How are we gonna sleep tonight?”

“Who says we have to sleep?” the glint in his eye and the stupid grin plastered on his face tells you everything you need to know, and you roll your eyes.

“If we fuck, I’ll actually die of overheating. Absolutely not.”

“Well in that case, I need to get that AC fixed as soon as possible.”

#dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream imagine #dream fluff #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken fluff #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x y/n #dream x you #dreamwastaken x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fluff

2K notes · View notes

olderthannetfic · 2 years

Photo

I’m laughing my ass off. This reminds me of when I was at a fannish party back in... 2012? 2013?

One of the hosts excitedly asked us if we were into MCU. I said yes, and she aggressively shoved her art portfolio at me. It was entirely manips of Stony. I loathe MCU Stony. I also don’t like manips, but it was really the ship that stuck with me. Because she didn’t ask if we liked Stony but whether we liked MCU.

Anyway, that’s a longwinded way of saying that while I was “in” MCU for a hot second, that doesn’t mean I was in that part of it.

I ignored Iron Man 1. I was too angry at how its unexpected success destroyed any chance my beloved Speed Racer had of breaking even. Speed Racer is one of the most aesthetically adventurous films of its decade and offensively underrated at the time. (Hilariously, all the film bro blogs changed their tune in like 6 months, years faster than I expected.) It’s one of the only films I’ve seen multiple times in the theater. (The others being The Man from U.N.C.L.E., which was similarly buried by another film, and Deadpool 2.)

A while later, I was looking up fanvids that use music from Highlander as part of making a vid to mess with a friend. She said any song can be used for anything except for that one because it belongs to Highlander. She was joking, but I thought it would be funny to use the song for something else... only I couldn’t remember which one she’d said, so I used both Princes of the Universe and Who Wants to Live Forever to make fun of all the emo Sherlock vids post S2.

I was shocked to discover that talitha78 actually had vidded Who Wants to Live Forever, and it was a really shippy vid of something I hadn’t seen and didn’t even recognize. So that’s how I watched Captain America: TFA. I have one great narrative weakness, and it’s people being fake or temporarily dead. Needless to say, when I found out what happened with Bucky in comics, I was very interested.

I got into MCU at that point, right before Avengers came out. I ate a lot of shawarma.

Avengers made me ship Science Bros like mad. Bruce was hands down my fave. I also read some Pepperony on LJ. I find MCU Tony insufferable, but I liked his vibe with both Pepper and Bruce. I also read some Tony/Pepper/other dude OT3s, even Tony/Pepper/Steve despite me thinking MCU Stony was intensely chemistryless at the time.

But honestly, the fic I probably read the most of was something I didn’t even ship myself: Clint/Coulson. I loved Coulson. I love characters coming back. And I’m weak for tropey handler/asset. C/C at the time was practically just original m/m with faces grafted on, and there were some great fics.

I also read a lot of trashy Mary Sue Darcy fic. That was everywhere in 2012. Darcy joins SHIELD. Darcy is Coulson’s secret child. Darcy dates Coulson. Darcy fucks her way through the Avengers. Darcy has a freaky blue baby with Loki. Darcy fucks Jensen from The Losers. (In fact, there is more Darcy/Jensen than a bunch of MCU ships that actually make sense.)

Then The Winter Soldier came out. I walked in a stucky shipper. I walked out thinking “Bucky who?” I was blown away by how that movie, like Cap1, is off in its own aesthetic universe. The whole film, I kept going “Oh my god, it’s Three Days of the Condor! Right down to the color palette!” Imagine my amusement to find out that the directors were calling it “Three Days of Captain America”. I was also blown away by Sam. The imperturbable friend who’s too sane to crumple under your bullshit! My weakness!

After that, I read a bunch of fic with Sam, Steve, Natasha, and Bucky in various configurations.

So, okay, yes, I did read some stucky. But even back then, I was seeing a rise in stucky-only fans whose work wasn’t so much my thing. There was a lot of lipservice to “historical accuracy” and fellating of anybody who’d read Gay New York and wanted to show off their learnings. I’ve read that book, and it’s great, but the attitude made me roll my eyes. In my experience, “historically accurate” just meant justifying some specific kink for femme Steve with Steve as a fairy and Bucky as trade. (More on what those referred to in this book review. Basically, femme vs. masculine guy who fucks women and femmes.)

I drifted away from MCU some time after that. I’m not good at staying into canons that are too sprawling or things that are too popular in general, especially if they’re very OTPy. (My stay in BTS fandom is shockingly long for me. I chalk it up to the sheer quantity of OT3s and multishipping.)

The big thing I noticed was that in addition to a lack of fic about Sam, a lot of what there was was distinctly boring. People were afraid to write iddy trash for obvious reasons. Not so with stucky, which has always been iddy trash central. Curse The Winter Soldier for robbing me of my ability to care!

I was excited about the idea of Bucky and Sam in a buddy show despite not having seen MCU in years, but friends’ reviews made me think it would be a letdown, and I haven’t bothered to watch.

I don’t know the big internal dramas in stucky fandom after I left MCU. I’m sure they have been legion. I get the impression that many of them have boiled down to “You are more popular than I am, and that is not okay.”

It’s such a large ship and has so many OTPers who don’t necessarily interact with other parts of MCU fandom that I don’t know how many of those dramas have leaked out elsewhere. MCU is like Harry Potter fandom in that way: there are tons of completely separate camps, and one might or might not be in multiple of them. It’s not even a question of disliking each other: it’s just too big to be in all of.

Given how overwhelming and hard to get into Stucky is at this point, I would just read the fic and not worry about interacting--unless you want to? TBH, ships like that aren’t that easy to get into in a social sense. I’ll still read the occasional fic if I get a rec. I read that one where they go to the Captain America film festival, and it’s a hilarious parody of gay French art films and subtextually homoerotic 1980s US action movies. I also read that one where Steve contacts a professor of queer history looking for info about his past friends and Bucky bugs her office. (I’m certainly not immune to the history nerdery. I just find it lulzy when people go “FACT!” and mean “I love femme Steve!”)

102 notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

Vampire Chris and jake get stranded in the middle of nowhere one night. Maybe a car crash or something. As they walk back the sun starts to rise.

CW: Car crash, bruising, seatbelt burn, vampire whumpee, caretaker turned whumpee

The moment of the crash is gone.

He opens his eyes to the aftermath.

Jake blinks, the world spinning, and his head drops back against the headrest of the driver's seat. The world is still lurching, sickeningly, in circles around him. Something is ticking, the engine maybe, slowly cooling down and shit, at least it's not on fire.

The air bag has a smear of terrible vibrant red against its pillowy white as it slowly deflates, and all he can do is stare at it until he realizes the blood must be his own.

One hand comes up to touch at his forehead, and his fingers come away wet and red, too. What he'd thought was sweat is a head wound, bleeding down one side, tickling his cheekbone and jaw. It stings, a little.

The pain seems distant, somehow, like it's being held at arm's length. As if he's looking at his pain from a distance further than he can close.

"Ch-... Chris, you okay, buddy?" He turns, and the passenger seat is empty. The air bag deployed on that side, but there's no blood.

The door is standing open, dome light still on. It takes a long few moments of staring before he can understand that the door is open because Chris forced it open, closed his hands on the metal and squeezed until it bent beneath his strength and let him out.

Jake's body aches as he shifts forwards, fumbling to unbuckle his seatbelt. All the pain is filtering into his senses, piece by piece as if he can only understand a wound once he sees it.

He can't remember the crash.

They were at a four-way stop, listening to some of the terrible pop music Chris loves about the modern world, and Jake had pulled through. They were laughing at some lyric that Jake had had to explain, that had made the little vampire boy flush a little at the definition.

Then there were headlights blinding him, overtaking everything. Chris had yelled something and Jake had yelled something and then-

The moment is gone.

So is the entire back half of his car.

He turns around with a hiss to stare right out a giant gaping hole where his backseat should be into the cool, clear night.

Parts of his car are strewn haphazardly across the road and the grassy ditch he's come to a stop in. As he looks, he can see the frame of a door, crumbled metal that must be his trunk, a tire. Another tire. The bumper on the ground. Glass and metal everywhere.

The stop signs at the fourway are all standing totally untouched, except for one bent at a hard angle, leaning like a man fighting a strong wind.

The sweater he'd been wearing when he got in the car - removed and tossed carelessly in the backseat to pick up later - is hanging off the bent stop sign.

It's fucking spotlessly clean still.

He blinks.

Blinks some more.

What the fuck?

He'd driven Chris up into the hills to go star-gazing, making the most of Chris's bubbly energy that only comes out at night and his classes being canceled tomorrow because of some issue with the campus water supply. This is countryside up here, with houses miles and miles apart. Remnants of old orchards and homesteads, still kept by the descendants of the men and women who traveled out here. Nobody drives out this way this late. It could be morning before someone finds him.

His phone. He can call for help.

Jake looks around, but his phone is nowhere to be seen. He digs around the footwell, what he can touch of it, and there's nothing. Nothing nothing nothing.

His windshield is shattered, open to the outside, and he wonders if his phone flew out of it. It was on the dash, wasn't it? On Chris's side...

Shit.

It could be anywhere in the grass, and he's a fucking moron who keeps his phone on silent or vibrate 24 hours a day. He'll never hear it out here.

First things first, then.

He settles for trying to open his door.

It's been crunched, just a little. Enough that it won't swing out, and he has to throw his shoulder against it, grunting in pain, again and again until finally it nudges just enough for him to fall onto shattered tiny squares of safety glass on the ground. A water bottle is lying there. It's Dasani.

He hates Dasani water, but it'd been free at the gas station they'd stopped at if he bought a bag of chips, so...

Oh, right. His car is full of fucking gasoline.

He groans, scrambling away from the vehicle, trying to remember what a safe distance will be if his car catches on fire or fucking explodes in the middle of the night. At least if it explodes it'll get someone's attention, right?

Shit, he's going to throw up.

Jake lays there, waiting for his stomach to settle, and then crawls again. He makes it up to the road, to the rough asphalt and the gravel that lines the side. The little pebbles sting his palms, rub dirt and dust into the cuts, but he ignores it.

He makes it to the road, twenty feet or so from his car, and then... then he just lays down.

"Chris..." He can barely think. Where has the little vampire gone? Why isn't he here, creeping out of the treeline to ask if Jake's all right? Did he run? Maybe he has Jake's phone. Maybe there was no signal and he's gone to try and find some, to make a call.

Maybe...

Fuck, it hurts to think.

Even just taking a deep breath hurts - something's wrong with his ribs. Bruised or broken. When he pulls his shirt up, he can see the seatbelt burn starting to deepen in color, a diagonal stripe from shoulder to hip written in bright red darkening to burgundy bruising, soon to turn purple and black. If he hadn't been wearing a heavy shirt it'd have torn his skin open. One side of his neck is rubbed raw, he can tell when he touches it and has to pull his fingers away at the spike of pain.

There are spots of dark on his pale shirt, blood seeping through or dripping from his forehead.

But, shit. It could be worse. Looking at the back half of his car, it seems like a goddamn miracle that it isn't.

Jake pulls his legs under him and tries to stand up.

His right leg just won't fucking do it.

Rather than take his weight, it buckles with a spike of pain so bad Jake cries out and collapses back onto the road.

As if it were a dam breaking, all the adrenaline holding off the worst of the pain seems to wear away at once.

Everything hurts, suddenly, a sickening wash of pain breaking against him like he's nothing but a shell to be worn to sand. He aches when he breathes, when he doesn't. A cough makes him whimper as his ribs creak and crack. His head throbs, his hands sting, his leg is swelling even as he looks at it, a broken bone. Definitely a broken bone.

"Jesus Christ," He groans, rolling onto his side, his face pressing into gravel and safety glass.

Nat won't notice they're not home until morning.

No one's going to know he's out here until after sunrise, until he's not up to get ready for class and Chris isn't curled up in the closet to sleep in his nest of blankets and pillows. No one's going to know what happened, and where the everloving fuck did his phone go?

Time passes. He doesn't know how much.

Maybe Chris figured they can't protect him and took the fuck off. Maybe he's going to find somewhere new to crash, some new people to care for him. Maybe he's hunting.

Who the fuck knows?

He comes and goes, in and out of consciousness.

He can't stand, and sort of scooting and crawling around does nothing to help him figure out where his cell phone has gone. No one else drives by on this mostly-abandoned country road, and it was a stroke of seriously bad luck the asshole who hit them and ran was there at all.

Asshole was probably drunk, driving back from the bar, trying to use the backroads to avoid the goddamn cops.

Bad. Fucking. Luck.

Jake wonders if the asshole will even remember hitting his car in the morning, or if he'll wake up and discover the front of his vehicle all fucked up and have no idea how it happened.

He thinks he might pass clean out for a while.

That can't be good.

His head hurts worse when he wakes up.

He raises his head slowly at the sound of a distant rumble, an ancient truck engine coming closer. It takes more effort than he ever imagined just to get himself up to sitting, ready to wave down whoever it is - whatever fucking angel is on this road at what has to be 3 or 4 in the morning by now.

"Please," He whispers, dry lips scraping against each other. "Please, please don't run m'over... please..."

Headlights wash over the scene of the crash, fading everything to nearly black-and-white. Jake raises a hand to shield his eyes, blinking rapidly, as the blue-and-white Ford comes to an idling stop.

A door swings open with a creak and then slams shut again, boots crunching on the glass and debris on the road. Jake raises his eyes to see an old man in worn jeans and a grayish t-shirt staring down at him. "Well, I'll be damned," The man says, his voice low, a little rough around the edges. His hair's dark, but speckled with silver that's visible even in the night air. "You all right, son?"

Jake slowly looks back at his wrecked, ruined car, then back up at the man. "I'm pretty clearly not," He answers, then winces at his rudeness. "Sorry. I mean... no."

"That's all right. We all of us get a little more honest when we're bleeding from the skull. I'm gonna bet you aren't a natural brunette and I'm looking at a big old ton of blood there. What happened?"

"Guy ran the stop sign, hit me... drove off."

"Well, damn. What're you doin' up this way this late at night?"

"Would you... y'believe me if I said... star-gazin'?"

The man chuckles, but it's a low sound, and he moves closer. He pulls a heavy old cell phone out of his pocket - one of those goddamn flip phones that never dies or gets destroyed. It's like Captain Fucking America. Jake has to hold back a half-hysterical laugh.

"Hm, I might. It happens from time to time. Y'didn't come with a young lady, did you?" The man looks over the scene of the crash, searching for more people.

"No, no... just... jus'... I'm just here." He thinks of Chris, the open passenger door, the total lack of a vampire nearby. Is he hiding in the woods? If he's seen, or found out, he'll be hauled back off to be locked up somewhere, milked for venom for pharmaceutical drugs, treated like an animal. They can't admit he was here, he can't be seen. He must be hiding.

That's it.

Chris must just be hiding...

"Please, man, I-I can't find my phone to call for help-"

"I got you, son. I'll make the call. Likely your phone's just buried in the grass somewhere, we'll figure it out. You stay put right where you are, you don't want to move around and make any of it worse."

"Yes, sir." Jake stays where he is while the old man makes the call to 911, feeding him details when he asks, staring off into space when he doesn't.

They can pick Chris up when he and Nat come to get his stuff from the wreck tomorrow. They'll get him then. It'll be fine.

It'll be fine.

The old man hangs up and heads back to his truck, pulling out a battered old first aid kit. "You're lucky I believe in ghosts, you know."

"What? Why? Am I dead?" Jake looks down at his hands. They're scratched and bleeding, and he's pretty sure dead people don't bleed like that.

"No, son, no. But I wouldn't be out here if I didn't."

Jake blinks. "I... I don't follow."

"Well, had a little ghost show up at my bedroom window and refuse to shut up until I drove out here. Redheaded boy. Kept calling for a medic. Felt like I was back in the war for a minute before I realized it was him."

"Which... which war?"

The man fixes him with a stare as he crouches, old knees cracking as he does, in front of Jake. He opens the box and takes out some gauze and adhesive, antibiotic cream, something else Jake doesn't recognize. "You need medics in every kind of war there is, son. It doesn't matter which one. I've fought in two. But this boy called for a medic like he's seen the need for 'em before and didn't have time to save someone. Some kind of old ghost walkin' these roads saw you and made sure I knew."

Jake exhales, almost a laugh, and feels tears burn hot in his eyes. He realizes he's going to cry from sheer relief and exhaustion and pain, and he's not sure he can stop.

A ghost in the window means...

Chris left and ran for help.

"Thank you," he whispers, and he's not really talking to the old man at all.

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

131 notes · View notes

applerubyy · 3 years

Text

Ciao Adios

Summary: When you find your boyfriend cheating on you yo decide to expose him in the pettiest way you can think of.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (some Loki x Reader if you squint)

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cheating and cursing (I think that’s it?)

A/N: Hi! So this is my first time writing and posting anything here so if its terrible please tell me nicely :). This is some AU where everyone lives and all is happy ok? Also english is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any grammar or spelling mistakes. Anyway, if it turns out that some of you like it I think I’d be willing to do a part 2 if you like. Hope you enjoy it! <3. Btw, the gif is not mine so credit to whoever made it.

Crack. That’s the sound of your heart breaking, ripped to pieces in just a few seconds. And no, you were not exaggerating. Seeing your boyfriend kissing someone else while taking off their clothes would do that to a person. And in his office of all places.

How did you not see that coming? They had a lot in common and they did spend a lot of time together but you were just so naïve thinking that he was the most trust-worthy person ever that you looked the other way and believed him when he told you she was “just a friend”.

Just a friend my ass you thought as you calmly walked to your room. No running, that would draw attention to you and you didn’t need that. No crying either, because once you started you wouldn’t be able to stop. Walking down the hallway and taking the elevator to your floor feels like it takes forever.

Time is funny that way. It has that annoying tendency to slow down or speed up at the worst times. Like when you were in college and the clock seemed to literally stop, you would look at the time and it was 10:20 am and check again after what felt like half an hour for it to be 10:25 am. Or like when you are having fun with your friends at a club and you see it’s 12:30 but when you look again a few minutes later it’s 2:40. Right now it feels like the former, time seems to have slowed down. Maybe Dr. Strange did something to it? No, that’s stupid, he wouldn’t play with time that way.

Finally the elevator pings open and you rush to your room. Well, it’s not only your room anymore. You share it with him and everything is a reminder of what you just saw. The art supplies on the desk by the window, the famous shield leaning against the wall near the door, the messy bed where you sleep together every night …

And every single thing brings tears to your eyes until finally, the dam breaks and you let the tears fall down. You bring your hand to your mouth to muffle a sob that brings you to your knees. Crying is the only thing you can do right now because your brain is stuck on a loop. All you can see is Steve kissing her, unbuttoning her shirt with one hand while the other grabbed her ass. And all you can hear are their moans, Sharon’s whimper when he touched her and his groan as he did so.

And now you are full on crying and choking on air because that scene keeps replaying itself over and over no matter how much you want it to stop. And you do, Gosh you do because there is so much your heart can take and this is too much. It shatters you in more ways than one. It makes you question everything you thought you knew about him, about her, about your relationship and about yourself.

You remember the first time you met him. You were already in college and looking for an internship. Luckily you happened to be the niece of the one and only Pepper Potts. And who wouldn’t want to work near Earth's mightiest heroes? You sure did. You were studying journalism and communications in New York and working with the Avengers was the ultimate dream, one that was about to come true.

Your first day was uneventful, it consisted mainly of coffee runs, delivering files and passing messages along. That was until your third coffee run where you ran straight into a wall, well actually it wasn’t a wall but it felt like it. The coffee spilled everywhere, on your clothes and his, and you were going to fall on your butt if it wasn’t for him grabbing your arms to steady you. Imagine your surprise when you looked up to see Captain America himself.

And that’s the moment your love story started. It seemed like something straight out of a romantic comedy and you loved it. It started with flirting, a date and then another, him asking you to be his girlfriend and finally asking you to move in once you graduated. It felt like a fairytale.

Tony wasn't very happy about you and the Capsicle but he saw how happy you were so he tried to be happy too. Tony was your uncle even if you didn’t share any blood. Growing up you would visit your aunty Pepper in New York and he was always around, you even stayed at his house when Pepper and him had to work. So, you two became really close even before he became Iron Man and started dating your aunt.

The same thing happened with Rhody. Your close relationship with Tony meant you were close to him too, seeing as he was one of the most important people in his life. Rhody treated you like his niece and was the only one he didn’t make fun of which you took as the ultimate compliment.

So those three you knew before you started working at the compound and before Steve. But once you started working there you met the rest of the Avengers. Being Pepper and Tony's niece and Steve's girlfriend meant they all wanted to get to know you.

You met Bruce Banner, the Hulk, and you became really close. But that was thanks to his close relation with Tony and all the time you spent with him working on his social media presence to make sure people saw him as more than just the green monster who smashes things. After a while of working there they promoted you and now you manage the Avengers social media.

Nat and Wanda became your best friends from the moment you met. You just clicked and hung out as much as possible, being the only girls on the team meant they were really happy to have another female added to the mix. As for Vision, he liked you because Wanda did, simple as that.

Bucky and Sam were the funniest people ever, their constant bickering always brought a smile to your face and they welcomed you with open arms. Happy that their friend had finally found someone to be with.

Thor and Clint were like the fun uncles you got to see every once in a while. The God of Thunder was like an excited puppy and would hug you till you couldn’t breath every time he came to Earth and Clint would joke around with you and FaceTime you when he was with his kids because they loved you (“best babysitter ever” that called you).

You met Peter when he started working for your uncle. He was a sweet kid and your love of memes, vines and pop culture made you instant friends. He would ask you for advice on girls and tell you science jokes.

But we all know not all fairytales have a happy ending and this one definitely didn’t. You’re feeling so many things at once. There’s anger, sadness, jealousy and something else you can’t put your finger on. You keep crying and are unable to move from your kneeling position on the floor. Checking the clock you realize you’ve been on the floor crying for an hour so you stand up.

Taking a shower seems like the best thing to do, your head is pounding and your face is all puffy. As you shower it hits you, that other feeling swirling around is inevitability. In a way you always thought he was too good for you, you always thought he would eventually get tired of you and trade you for someone else.

It just hurt too much that it was her, the woman he shared so much with. The niece of Peggy Carter, his first love. An agent of S. H. I. E. L. D. Someone who risked their life for the world like he did. Someone prettier. Someone better than you.

Yeah, you were definitely on a self-pity party. But you needed to be miserable for a while, to cry it all out, to hurt so that you could move on to the next stage of grief: anger. And when that came, there was no stopping you.

You weren’t a mean person, or a petty one. You gave everyone countless opportunities and forgave way too easily so you never really got angry. But when you did, when you said enough is enough, yeah, you better watch out. That could be the meanest bitch you ever met and she had no mercy.

So you got out of the shower, dried yourself and started getting ready. Tony was throwing yet another party about who knows what and you were not missing it. You liked parties, they were the perfect excuse for wearing pretty dresses and putting on make up. And tonight you were going all out.

Your inner bitch was concocting a plan and you were going with it.

You hear the door open and prepare yourself to put on the best acting of your life. You take a deep breath and in the sweetest voice you can muster say: “Steve is that you babe?”

“Yeah doll it’s me” you hear him say. A few second later he pops into the bedroom and gives you a peck on the lips as you continue with your makeup.

“How was your day?” Steve asks as he takes off his clothes, probably to take a shower. “I missed you today, i went by your office but you weren’t there” he says with a small frown between his eyes. You could stare at his blue eyes forever but snap out of it when you remember what he did.

“Oh not much, i left work earlier to get ready for tonight” you answer. Shit your work. You really did leave like that, but after tonight hopefully they’ll understand. “You should start getting ready, the party starts in thirty minutes”.

He smiles at you and tells you he’s going to take a quick shower before getting dressed. He goes to the bathroom and you feel like breaking the mirror but instead take a few deep breaths and remind yourself he’s getting what he deserves later on. With that in mind you finish applying you makeup and smile at yourself, you look good. Moving on to your hair you decide to do some loose waves and that’s it, you really don’t know how to make those complicated updos.

Steve gets out of the shower and starts putting on his suit. Men really do have it easier you think to yourself when you see all the work you had to do and he just showers and that’s it.

You take your dress out of the closet and admire it. It really is beautiful. It has a deep plunging neckline that shows a lot of cleavage and is skin tight with a slit on one side. The fact that it is silver with sequins makes it even better. Pepper helped you pick this dress.

You put on the dress and admire yourself in the mirror. You look good. Behind you, you hear a whistle and turn around to see Steve watching you lust in his eyes. He comes closer and grabs you by the waist, pulling you to him.

“You look stunning” he says as he wets his bottom lip. “I can’t wait to take it off of you when we get back”. Lying cheating bastard.

“Can't wait” you lie as you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. This is just a kiss goodbye you tell yourself. One last kiss before he’s out of your life and probably runs to her. Tears threaten to fill your eyes but you hold them down. Not now.

You break the kiss when the need to breathe is too strong. Grabbing his hand you start walking towards the door and say: “Come on, we’re already late”.

——————————————————————————

The party had already started once you walk in and in true Tony fashion it is elegant and extravagant. Everyone is there: S. H. I. E. L. D. agents, the Avengers themselves, politicians and a few famous people.

You and Steve walk to the bar and order drinks. A whiskey for him and a strawberry daiquiri for you, yes you are that basic but hey, it tastes awesome. He offers you his arm and with drinks in your hands you start looking for your friends. A lot of people stop you on the way, nobody wants to miss an opportunity to talk to Captain America.

One thing, or rather on person, catches your attention: Loki. He’s sitting on one of the cushions alone with a drink in his hand. It’s weird to see him there. Sure, he was redeeming himself for what he did in 2012 and Thor said he was doing better but he rarely left Asgard (he “hated mortals”) and when he did come to Earth it wasn’t for a party.

As if he could feel you staring he turns his head and locks his eyes with yours. You weren’t going to lie, he was gorgeous. He was incredibly tall, had those charming green eyes and was actually funny (but you’d never admit that to anyone). But you were in love with Steve and never saw him as anything more than Thor's hot brother. And everyone in the Avengers was hot so that’s not saying much.

You turn away from him and see Nat and Wanda on the dance floor and you tell Steve you’ll see him later and to go find his friends. He’ll need them after tonight you think to yourself. You greet the girls and start dancing with them, for a moment forgetting about what you saw today and putting Loki out of your mind.

The three of you decided to take a break and order some more drinks. Once at the bar Wanda orders for you and when your drinks arrive you go back to the dance floor. You spend the next few hours dancing, talking to your friends and pretending that nothing's wrong. Talking to Steve and pretending that nothing's wrong. Hugging Steve and pretending that nothing's wrong. Kissing Steve and pretending that nothing's wrong.

The fact that Sharon is at the party doesn’t help at all. When you see her talking or touching him you feel like you’re gonna lose it but you remain strong. You remind yourself of your plan and try to keep them out of your mind.

There’s a small stage at the far end of the room and you see your uncle Tony step on it and grab the microphone.

“Hello everyone and thank you for coming to another one of my amazing parties. I hope you are having a good time and taking advantage of the free bar over there” he points to the other side of the room and continues, “Now for what we have all been waiting for: karaoke! And yes, i want everyone to sing something because that’s the whole point of this. I'm looking at you Manchurian Candidate, you’re singing”.

With that he gets off the stage and passes the mic to Sam who decided to sing a Marvin Gaye song. He’s pretty good actually but you can’t fully concentrate on him because your mind is going a thousand miles an hour for what it’s going to happen later.

More people go up and sing their songs and you applaud when they’re done. Nobody is talking much, they're all too busy either laughing at the others performance, drinking or actually listening to the songs. You’re sitting with Steve to your right, Bruce to your left and the rest of the Avengers nearby. You’re your own little group.

It’s finally your turn and as you walk to the stage you can hear your friends whistling and cheering you on. Once you’re up on the stage you choose the song and start singing.

Ask you once, ask you twice now

There's lipstick on your collar

You say she's just a friend now

Then why don't we call her?

So you wanna go home with someone

To do all the things you used to do to me

I swear, I know you do

Used to take me out in your fancy car

And make out in the rain

And when I ring you up

Don't know where you are

'Til I hear her say your name

Used to sing along when you played guitar

That's a distant memory

Hope she treats you better than you treated me, ha

As you continue singing you get more and more confident and take the mic. You walk off the little stage and over to your friends while dancing and you can see them smiling, clapping and having fun. They have no idea how much i mean all of this you think. You look at Steve and he’s completely oblivious. Good, you want to take him by surprise. You arrive at your little circle of friends and start singing the chorus.

I'm onto you, yeah you

I'm not your number one

I saw you with her

Kissing and having fun

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done

You keep dancing and go back to back with Wanda who’s also singing along. You then turn to Nat and she grabs your hand and makes you do a little spin.

After three, after four times

Why did I bother?

Tell me how many more times

Does it take to get smarter?

Don't need to deny the hurt and the lies

And all of the things you did to me

I swear, I know you did

And now you take her out in your fancy car

And make out in the rain

And when she rings you up

She know where you are

But I know differently

Now she sings along when you play guitar

Making brand new memories

Hope you treat her better than you treated me

You go up to Tony and he starts dancing around you busting out some dad moves. You laugh and keep on singing and dancing.

I'm onto you, yeah you

I'm not your number one

I saw you with her

Kissing and having fun

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done (I'm done)

Ciao adios, I'm done (no, no, no, no)

Ciao adios, I'm done

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done

And now you take her out in your fancy car

And make out in the rain

And when she rings you up

She know where you are

But I know differently

Now she sings along when you play guitar

Making brand new memories

Hope you treat her better than you treated me

You walk back to the stage as you sing and step up. You put the mic back into place and sing the last part of the song.

I'm onto you, yeah you

I'm not your number one

I saw you with her (with her)

Kissing and having fun (and fun)

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done (I'm done)

Ciao adios, I'm done (you get on with your life, I'll get on with my life)

Ciao adios, I'm done

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done

When you’re done people are clapping and cheering and you look to your friends to see them all smiling. You look at everyone and make a little mock bow and when you straighten you see Loki sitting on the same couch as before. But this time he’s looking at you and he’s laughing, not smiling and cheering but actually laughing.

You look back at your friends and say “Thank you, thank you” with a smile on your face. You continue , “I wanted to dedicate this song to my boyfriend Steve” you point at him.

“In case it wasn’t clear enough, i wanted to tell you that i saw you with Sharon”. You could hear a pin drop. No one was talking and all eyes were on you. This is what you wanted, to humiliate him as much as he did you. And what better way to do it than publicly? Oh but you weren’t done.

You could see Steve's face going pale and nobody knew where to look, if at you or at him. Tony look ready to murder him as did Rhody, Pepper, Peter and Bruce. Thor, Clint and Vision looked shocked. But Bucky, Sam, Nat and Wanda looked guilty.

Your heart breaks a little more when you realize they knew. You can’t really blame Bucky and Sam for not telling you, they were Steve's friends after all. But you thought the girls were your friends, that they would have told you. Apparently you overestimated that friendship.

You keep on smiling and continue “So… I’m breaking up with you. Hope she was a good fuck and wasn’t uncomfortable with the fact that you were once in love with her aunt”. You do a dramatic pause and make a little disgusted face. “Anyway, if I’m lucky i´ll never see you again. Have a great life!”

And with that, you walk off the stage and make your way to your friends. Steve is rooted to the spot and his face is red with embarrassment. You walk up to him, look him straight in the eye and give him an evil smile. He gulps and opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something and then closes it. He does is two more times and still nothing comes out.

You turn to your group and look at Wand and Nat, who can’t seem to be able to look you in the eye. You sigh and say: “Who want enemies when they can have you as their best friends right?”. They look up then and start talking. Telling you how sorry they are and to please forgive them. You raise your hand to silence them and they do.

You go to your aunt and uncle who look like there should be smoke coming out of their ears and say: “I’m gonna stay in a hotel for the night, can’t stand to be here anymore”. Tony scrunches his eyebrows and look at you like you’re crazy.

“Hell no. You’re staying here. We can find him another room to sleep in but you’re not leaving. If anyone’s leaving is Mr. Star-spangled over there” he practically screams the last part as he points at Steve.

You take a deep breath and hug him. It takes him by surprise but he puts his arms around you. “I appreciate it uncle Tony but i can’t stay at the compound, it just hurts too much” you say as you let go. Turning to your aunt you hug her as well and say: “Thank you for everything but I quit”.

The moment those words leave your mouth everyone starts talking at the same time telling you how crazy you are and to think about it. You just smile at them and tell them you already made up your mind. “I'm gonna go pack a bag and ask Happy to take me to a hotel nearby. Please make sure he doesn’t follow” you say as you point to a still red-faced Captain America.

With that you turn around and leave. The room is silent for a few seconds before you hear your friends all screaming at Steve. You look around for a second and notice that Loki is staring at you with a smirk on his face. When you look him in the eye he raises his glass at you ant takes a sip.

You give him a small smile and walk through the doors towards the elevator.

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers imagine #captain america imagine #avengers #avengers imagine #loki x reader #loki imagine #tony stark #steve rogers x y/n #captain america x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction

274 notes · View notes

random-fandom1 · 3 years

Text

I saw some post Civil War Stony fan art and suddenly I'm inspired so heres some headcanons

Peter is Stonys child and is 21 when CW happens

Tony and Steve have been happily married for close to 10 years, dating 6 years before marriage.

Steve adopted Peter when he was 6 and Peter has seen him as his pops since well before that

Stony started to have fights after TWS, Steve wanting to hunt for his best friend and Tony wanting him to stay safe at home with them

Steve runs away so Peter automatically takes Tonys side because he's heartbroken that his pops left them for a his best friend, a man that Peter definitely isn't dating

Peter and Bucky have been secretly dating since they met briefly in TWS. Theyve been meeting in dark alleys, going on picnic dates out of state and are madly in love. When Steve started his mission to find Bucky, they decided that it would be best to go long distance.

Steve tries to write to Peter but he gets ignored

In Berlin, Steve sees Peter on the other team and a tear falls from his eyes, this makes the whole airport silent for a minute

Bucky had almost the same reaction, he instead had happy tears. Finally seeing his boy after so many months

Bucky and Sam are assigned to keep Peter safe, so they distract him in the airport instead of in the actual battle

Bucky gets tackled to the ground by Peter, who in turn straddles the older. Realising their familiar positioning, Peter blushes scarlet while Bucky smirks and rolls his hips up a bit

Sam comes around the corner and breaks it up a few seconds later by telling red wing to fly and knock Peter down

Steve and Tony are more brutal, both heartbroken but in love. They have a full on scuffle, fists, repulsers and shield flying everywhere

They get broken up when Scott comes and picks Tony up

Peter gets the upper hand with the boys. Sam is covered in webs while Bucky only had one arm trapped. He still lies there like a dramatic idiot he is.

Steve corners Peter after getting away from Tony.

"Pete..." Steve starts, going in for a hug just to be rejected by Peter turning away and crossing his arms like a child

Peter so caught up in the new flood of emotions starts to blabber on without thinking, tears streaming down his face. His anger gets the better of him and he says "How could you do this? How could you just leave me, and dad, and aunt Nat and - and -. Why did you do it? James wouldn't have wanted th..." He shuts up realising his mistake

"How did you knows Bucks name was James Pete?"

"I - um. I researched him, yeah I researched him. But why did you do it pops? Don't you love us, love me?" Steve's about to retort but Peter continues "Dad's been crying himself to sleep everynight, and he briefly started drinking again in the first month. Hes scary when he's drunk pops, he was screaming and throwing stuff, then crying the next second. He wouldn't ever hurt me, I know, But I thought he might of. Pops, you've been my dad for as long as I remeber and I miss you and you were practically like my mama that I never had, so much better. Until you left. Just like her. She never loved me and she left, so I guess you never loved me either, not enough to stick around at least. Dad's going to go next, then my boys going to go, then everyone else and I'm going to be alone. Pops, why did you have to leave?" Peter was full on crying his eyes out now, and Steve's got tears of his own rolling down his cheeks.

Steve pulls him into his embrace and spots Tony watching them from afar, looking just as heartbroken as Peter, and probably Steve. Steve takes a big breath in to steady his voice "Listen Petey, - wait, did you say you had a boyfriend? How come you never told me you had a boy Peter, I'm so proud of yo - never mind, we'll talk about that later. Petey, I never wanted this to happen. And I didn't ever want to leave you. You are my son, and even though its not in blood, you always will be. I never, ever wanted you to be dragged into this mess, I just had to do what I thought was right. And I am so honoured that you see me like that Pete, your biological mother, well, she missed out. She missed having such a great son, and I'm not going to be like her. I'm going to make things right, don't worry. But right now, I'm going to finish what I started. I'm going to help my best mate. And I know youd do the same for Ned, MJ, Shuri or Yelena so let me do this. Ill be back with you in no time because, I really love you Pete" Steve places a kiss on Peters temple before squeezing him one last time.

Steve tries to let go, but Peter clings on. And Steve stays. He stays for as long as it takes for Peter to let go. Both have tear marked faces when it is time to go. "You go finish waht you started Pops and come back to us, quickly. I love you too"

With that Peter squeezes Steve and swings back to where the two other teams continue to fight.

The fight dies down when Bucky and Steve run for the plane, they go to the other wintersoldiers where Tony meets them.

The second Steve and Tonys eyes meet, it's like a rope draws them towards the otherand they meet in the middle. A silent apology is shared between them, both saying everything they needed to in their eyes. Then for the first time in months, they share a kiss

Bucky stands there awkwardly while they makeout

When they get back to America, Bucky makes it his mission to find Peter. And when they do, they're greeting is almost just as magical as Stonys.

ALMOST

Peter opens the door to his penthouse one morning, hair a mess, sleep in his eyes and baggy pajamas. Lips find his instantly, and Peter dosent know who's kissing him so Bucky end up with a black eye

Bucky says he saw it in a film and it looked romantic

Turns out it wasn't a film they later found out, it was porno he found while searching through Clints computer

He did get his romantic kiss though, it was just after half an hour of apologies, frozen peas and a cup of tea

They all lived happily ever after

The end

#peter parker #winterspider #bucky barnes #tony stark #superfamily #avengers #steve rogers #marvel #cute #bucky x peter #stony #civil war

85 notes · View notes

comedicreliefonlyworkswhenfunny · 3 years

Text

I am against the "Americanization" of fandoms.

What this applies to

Holding non American characters (and sometimes even fans) to an American moral standard. This includes

Refusing to take into account that, first things first, America is NOT the target audience, so certain tropes that would or would not pass in the west are different in Japan.

Like seriously, quite a few of the jokes are just not going to pass or hit, because they require background information that is not universal.

Assuming all American experience is standard. (This could mean watering down just how much pressure is placed on Japanese youth irl by saying that sort of thing is universal (while it is, to a degree, Japanese suicide rates are pretty fucking high because of how fast paced and work heavy some of their loads tend to be), and it's really annoying and rude when someone is trying to speak out about how heavy and harsh the standards are placed on them to succeed just for some American whose mom occasionally yells at them to do their homework dropping by to say "it's like that everywhere")

Demonizing (or wubbifying) a character using American morals, including and up to harassing fans over their interpretations or gatekeeping whether or not a character "should" get development (while you shouldn't do that fucking period, it's rude and annoying- this is specifically for the people who use American standards without acknowledging the cultural gap between them and, you know, the fucking target audience) ((Like seriously, saying "It's different in Japan" is not the end all be all excusing someone's actions, but sometimes the author didn't immediately think that maybe (insert vaguely universal thing) was that bad or that heavy of a topic before they put it into their media. If you don't want to see things like that? Pick a different series and stop harassing the fans))

Getting mad at or making fun of Japan's attempts to satirize their own culture. (A good example is Ace Attorney! To most of us, it's just a funny laugh can you imagine if courts were actually like that- guess what? Japan's are! (Not that America's are actually that much better, they just look good on paper))

Making America/American issues the center of your fan spaces

(Usually without sharing or bringing light to the issues that other countries are going through)

Your

Experiences

Are

Not

Univseral!

Seriously, very few things across America, even, are universal. Texas things the hundreds are nothing while Minnesota's like "oh it's only thirty degrees below zero"- so for fucks sake, stop assuming that all other countries work in ways similar to America.

It's good and important to share Ameican issues with your American followers, but guess what? America isn't the only country out there, and it's certainly not the only one going through bullshit. Don't pull shit like "why's no one reblogging this?" or "why should I care about what's happening in (X country)?"

Don't assume everyone lives in America.

Stop assuming everyone lives in America.

America is not and has never been the target audience for anime, and it's certainly not the only country outside of Japan that enjoys it.

Like I said above, sometimes Japan attempts to satirize its own culture. We can't tell what is and isn't meant as satire, because it's not our culture.

Social media activism can be tiring and maybe you don't have the energy to focus on things that are out of your control, but, if someone tells you about the shit they're going through, don't bring American politics up.

For the neurodivergent crowd out there thinking, "But why?" it's because a lot of social media, especially, is very heavily Americanized- sometimes to the point where people assume that everyone is American. Not to mention, it's disheartening. I'm sorry to say, but you're not actually relating to the conversation, you're often diverting the focus away from the topic at hand. Even if you mean well, America is heavily pedestaled and talked about frequently, and people from other countries are tired of America taking precedent over their own issues.

Don't divert non-American issues into American ones. Seriously. It's not your place. Please just support the original issue or move on.

Racist Bullshit

This especially goes for islanders and South Asian characters, as well as poc characters (because, yes, Japan DOES have black people)

Making "funny" racist headcanons. Not fucking cool.

Changing the canon interpretation of an explicit character of color in order to fit racist stereotypes.

Whitewashing or color draining characters. Different artistic skill sets can be hard, yes, but are you seriously going to look at someone and say "I don't feel like accurately portraying you or people that look like you, because it's difficult for me." If someone tries to correct you on your cultural depiction of a character and/or their life style, don't be an ass. (If possible, it would be nice for those that do the corrections to be polite as well, but it does get really frustrating).

Seriously, no offense guys, but, if you want to persue art, you're going to need to learn to depict different body types, skin colors, and/or ethnic features.

On that note, purposefully, willingly, or consistently inaccurately portraying people or characters of color (especially if someone in the fandom has "called you out" or specifically told you that what you're doing comes across as racist and you continue to do it). If you need help or suck at looking things up, there are references for you! Ask your followers if they have tutorials on poc (issue that you're having), whether it be bodily portrayal, facial proportions, or coloring and shading. Art is so much more fun when you can depict a wider variety, and guess what? Before you drew the same skinny, basic, white character over and over, you couldn't even draw that!

Attempting or claiming to DEPECT CULTURAL ACCURACY within a work or meta, while being completely fucking wrong. ESPECIALLY and specifically if someone calls you out, and you refuse to fix, correct, or change anything.

*little side note that the discussion revolving art is a very multilayered conversation, and it has quite a few technical potholes, which I'll bring up again farther into this post.

Fucking history

Stop demonizing or for absolute fucks sake wubbifying Japanese history because UwU Japan ♡0♡ or bringing up shit like "you know they sided with Nazis, right?" It's good to recognize poor past decisions, but literally it's not your country keep your nose out of it. And? A lot of decisions made by countries were not made by their general peoples. Even those that were, often involved heavy propaganda that made them think what they were doing was right.

Seriously, it's not your country, not your history. Unless you have some sort of higher education (but honestly even then a lot of those contain heavy bias), just don't butt in.

^^^ this also goes to all countries that are NOT Japan (specifically when people from non American countries talk about their history while in fandoms and someone wants to Amerisplain to them why "well, actually-"). When we said, "question your sources," we didn't mean "question the people who know better than you, while blindly accepting the (more than likely biased) education you were given in the past."

What this does NOT include:

Fanfiction

FANfiction

FanFICTION

FANFICTION.

Seriously, fanfiction is literally UNPAID WORK from RANDOM FANS- a lot of which who are or have started as kids. ((No, I'm not trying to excuse racist depictions of people just because they're free, please see above where I talk about learning to grow a skill and how it's possible tone bad and get good, on top of the fact that some inaccuracies are not just willful ignorance))

"Looking it up" doesn't work

"Looking it up" almost never works

Please, for fucks sake, you know that most all online search engines are heavily biased, right? Not to mention, not everything is universal across the entirety of Japan. You want to look up how the school system works in Hokkaido? Well it's different from the ones in Osaka!

Most fanfiction is meant to be an idealized version of the world. Homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, ableism, and racism are very prevalent and heavy topics that some fan authors would prefer to avoid. (Keep in mind, this is also used by some people in those minorities often because thinking about how relevant those kinds of things are is to them every day).

A lot of shit that happens in writing is purely because it's an ideal setting. I've seen a few arguments recently about how fan authors portray Japanese schools wrong- listen, I can't tell you how many random school systems I have pulled from my ass purely because (I need them to interact at these points, in these ways). Sometimes the only compliment I can think of is 'I like your shirt' or sometimes I need character A to realize that character B likes the same thing as they do, so I might ignore the fact that most all Japanese schools require uniforms, so that I can put my character in a shirt that will get someone else's attention.

Sometimes it's difficult to find information on different types of systems, and sometimes when you DO know those things, they directly rule out a plot point that needs to happen (like back on the topic of schools (from what I've seen/heard/read- which guess what? Despite being from multiple sources, might still be inaccurate!) Japanese schools don't have mandatory elective classes (outside of like gym and most of them usually learn English or another language- I've seen stuff about art classes? But the information across the board varies.), but, if I need my character to walk in and see someone completely in their element, I'm probably not going to try and gun for accuracy or make up a million and two reasons as to why this (non elective) person would possibly need something from (elective teacher) after school of all things.)

Some experiences ARE universal- or at least overlap American and Japanese norms! Like friends going to fast food places after school doesn't /sound Japanese/ or whatever, but it's not like a horrible inaccuracy to say that your characters ate at McDonald's because they were hungry. Especially when you consider that the Japanese idolization of American "culture" is also a thing.

Also I saw someone complaining about how, in December, a lot of (usually westerners) write Christmas fics! Well, not only are quite a few of those often gift fics, with it being the season if giving and all, but Japanese people do celebrate Christmas! Not as "the birth of Christ," but rather as a popularized holiday about gift giving (also pst: America isn't the only place that celebrates Christmas)

But, on that note, sometimes things like Holidays are "willfully ignorant" of what actually happens (I've made this point several times, but (also this does by no means excuse actual racism)), because, again: plot convenience! Hey what IF they celebrated Halloween by Trick or Treating? What if Easter was a thing and they got to watch their kids or younger siblings crawl around on the ground looking for tiny plastic eggs?

Fanfiction authors can put in hours of work for one or two thousand words- let alone ten thousand words, fifty thousand words, a hundred thousand words. And all of these are free. There is absolutely no (legal) way to make money off of their fanworks, but they spent hours, days, weeks, months- sometimes even years- writing. It is so unnecessary to EXPECT or REQUIRE them to spend even more hours looking up shit that, no offense, almost no one is going to notice. No one is going go care that all of my combini prices are accurate or that I wrote a fic with a Japanese map of a train station that I had to backwards search three times to find an English version that I could read.

Not everyone has the attention span or ability to spend hours of research before writing a single word. Neurodivergent people are literally a thing yall. Instead of producing the perfectly pretty accurate version of Japan that people want to happen, what ACTUALLY happens is that the writer reads and reads and reads and either never finds the information they need or they lose the motivation to write.

^^^ (This does NOT apply to indigenous or native peoples, like Pacific Islanders or tribes that exist in real life. Please make sure that you portray tribal minorities accurately. If you can't find the information you need (assuming that the content of the series is not specifically about a tribe), please just make one up (and for fucks sake, recognize that a lot of what you've been taught about tribal practices, such as shit like human sacrifices or godly worship, is actually just propaganda.)

Not to mention, it often puts a wall in front of readers who would then need to pull up their OWN information (that may or may not be biased) just in order to interact with the fic ((okay, this one has a little bit of arguability when it comes to things like measurements and currency, because Americans don't know what a meter is and no one else knows what a foot is- either way, one of yall is going to have to look up measurements if they want to get a better understanding of the fic)). However, a lot of Americans who do write using 'feet, Fahrenheit, dollars,' also write for their American followers or friends (which really could go both ways).

On a less easily arguable side, most fic readers aren't going to open up a new tab just to search everything that the author has written (re the whole deep topics, not everyone wants to read about those sorts of things, either). Not only are you making it more difficult on the writer, but you're also making it more difficult for the reader who's now wondering why you decided to add in Grandma's Katsudon recipe, and whether or not the details you have added are accurate.

Some series, themselves, ignore Japanese norms! Piercings, hair dye, and incorrectly wearing ones uniform are frowns upon in Japanese schools- sometimes up to inflicting punishment on those students because of it. However, some anime characters still have naturally or dyed blond hair some of them still have piercings or wear their uniforms wrong. Some series aren't set specifically in Japan, but rather in a vague based-off-real-life Japan that's just slightly different (like Haikyuu and all of its different prefectures). Sometimes they're based on real places, but real places that have gone through major changes (like the Hero Academia series with its quirks and shit).

Fandom is not a full time job. Please stop treating it like it is one. Most people in fandoms have to engage in other things like school or work that most definitely take precident over frantically Googling the cultural implications of dying your hair pink in Japan.

Art is also meant to be a creative freedom and is almost always a hobby, so there are a few cracks that tend to spark debate. Like I said, it is still a hobby, something that's meant to be fun (on this note!)

If trying new things and expanding your portfolio is genuinely making you upset, it's okay to take a break from it. You're not going to get it right on the first try and please, please to everyone out there critiquing artists' works, please take this into account before you post things.

I'm sorry to say, but, while it gets frustrating to see the same things done wrong over and over again, some people are genuinely trying. If it matters enough for you to point out, please offer solutions or resources that would possibly help the artist do better (honestly this could be said about a lot of online activism). I get that they should "want" to do better (and maybe they don't and your annoyance towards them is completely justified- again, as I said, if this becomes a repeated offense and they don't listen to or care about the people trying to help them, yeah you can be a bitch if it helps you feel better- just please don't assume that everyone is willfully ignorant of how hurtful/upsetting/annoying a certain way of portraying things is), but also WANTING to do better and ACTUALLY doing better are two different things.

Maybe they didn't realize what they were doing was inaccurate. Maybe they didn't have the right tutorials. Maybe they tried to look it up, but that failed them. Either way, to some- especially neurodivergent artists- just being told that their work is bad or racist or awful isn't going to make them want to search for better resources in order to be more accurate, it's just going to make them give up.

Also! In fic and in writing, no one is going to get it right on the first try. Especially at the stage where we creators ARE merely in fan spaces is a great time to "fuck around and find out", before we bring our willfully or accidentally racist shit into monetized media. Absolutely hold your fan creators to higher standards, but literally fan work has so little actual impact on popular media (and this goes for just about every debate about fan spaces), and constructive criticism as well as routine practice can mean worlds for representation in future media. NOT allowing for mistakes in micro spaces like fandoms is how you get genuinely harmful or just... bad... portrayals of minorities in popularized media that DOES have an impact on the greater public. OR you get a bunch of creators who are too afraid to walk out of their own little bubbles, because what if they get it wrong and everyone turns against them. It's better to just "stick with what they know" (hobbies are something that you are meant to get better at, even if that is a slow road- for all of my writers and artists out there, it does take time, but you will get it. To everyone else, please do speak up about things that are wrong, but don't make it all about what's wrong and please don't be rude. It's frustrating on both ends, so, if you can, please try not to escalate the situation more.)

Anyways, I'm tired of everyone holding fictional characters to American Puritanical standards, but I'm also tired of seeing every "stop Americanizing fandom" somehow loop into fanfiction and how all authors who don't make their fics as accurate as possible are actually just racist and perpetuating or enabling America's take over of the world or some shit.

Fan interpretation of published media is different than fan creation of mon monetized media. Americans dominating or monopolizing spaces meant for all fans (especially in a fandom that was never meant for them to begin with) is annoying and can be harmful sometimes. Americans writing out their own personal experience using random fictional characters (more often than not) isn't.

#just google it #better represent real life #if you tell a fic reader to ngl you're being pretty ableist and don't really have a good idea of how search engines work #also when people DO try to make culturally accurate fics often times at least one or two people will pop in and say 'actually that's wrong'#not to mention sometimes they might not even be right to begin with...#and okay once or twice it is what it is #but seriously if this keeps happening over and over most people are just going to stop writing or caring #fanfiction #fanfiction is literally free #fanfiction is free labor #adding layers upon layers of research and knowledge needed- on top of how difficult it can be to portray human emotion #it's not going to it's just going to make once starry eyed writers loss their ability to enjoy their work #and guess what #some ACTUALLY racist (or homophobic or transphobic or misogynistic) writer is going to swoop in not giving two fucks #and they're going to go on and get their work published because they don't care about accuracy

78 notes · View notes

ramshackledtrickster · 3 years

Note

Hi I am enjoying your blog and the your version of Moreau. I have three questions for you. (1) What kind of relationship did your version of pre and post cadou Moreau have with the four Lords and Duke? (2) If your Moreau was able to recover and heal from what happened to him and was take in by BSAA what would he do after besides recover and heal from what happened to him? (3) What dose your version of pre- cadou Moreau's home look like?

Aw thank you so much!! I’m so glad you like em!!

Oo these will be fun to answer!!

Long text post so!! Continue under the cut

1. Salvatore has seen and met Alcina before, as she moves to and fro from the village and elsewhere (America). Likely, she has seen him for her skin condition at least once? But I’d imagine she’s a bit… difficult to work with and demand more doctors to give her a diagnosis on her Porphyria. Though their interactions were limited, again, he was just doing his job and if she didn’t like the results hey don’t blame him. Post-mutation however, Alcina barely recognizes him but when the realization hits her, she tries not to remind herself of that connection. Moreau doesn’t remember either, but he’s definitely intimidated by her. Alcina probably sees him as a walking study of “at least I didn’t have it as bad as this guy”, you know? And generally talks down to and about him for being slow and gross (Moreau has definitely barfed on her dress at least once by accident it’s,, it’s sad). Though she does pity him to an extent, but she won’t show that.

Pre-mutation, Moreau has seen Donna and the Beneviento family before as they moved in from Italy (their ancestry goes back to the village, but the family moved away for generations before coming back to live at the mansion just because I guess). He had more to talk about with the family than with Donna, since she was a baby at that time. He likes being with the Benevientos since they’re more low key? And the father’s project to make a doll for the baby a,ways seemed sweet to him (though the design was… unnerving). (Also they both have Italian heritages lmao ). Donna barely remembers Moreau at all, but neither does Moreau post-mutation. She probably treats him with the most kindness (though Angie can be quite blunt and crude about his appearance, which hurts his feelings of course). She pities him, but does genuinely find him to be nicer company than the other two lords. They have tea, watch movies, and even make small trinkets for each other! (Donna making a small toy for Moreau, and Moreau in turn making her a little accessory).

Pre-mutation Moreau has never met Karl (I imagined he was from outside of the village entirely and barely has any ancestry relating to the Lords, but Miranda offered him a home in the village and under her wing since he was a runaway kid with barely anything). But if he did, I’d imagine he’d be a better father figure to Karl than Miranda a mother to him. Post mutation however, Moreau is more or less reduced to Karl’s emotional punching bag. Moreau’s honestly intimidated and scared of Karl (and his environment of the factory is a sensory hellscape and he carries that energy around everywhere he goes so yeah). But as a newcomer to the village, Karl probably talked to the other villagers and the new doctor who tried to fill in Moreau’s role, and heard about him that way. And how he hated Miranda but in the end became amiable and studied under her, and eventually just disappeared entirely (rumored to study abroad in other countries). As Karl grows to become more resentful of Miranda for manipulating him as a child, he starts to feel alone and resentful of Moreau as a result too, since he puts two and two together that this Moreau was the very same one who would stand up to Miranda all that while before. Maybe he taunts and aggravates Moreau in order to encourage some “fight” back in him? But ultimately all that is left of Moreau is basically a husk and he’s helpless under Mother Miranda’s bidding. Moreau doesn’t remember or know any of Karl’s side of the story though, so he’s just left with the impression that he’s just being mean to him because a. He deserves it and b. Karl is just Like That. But Karl does still take pity on Moreau occasionally and help him fix his tv or get some movies for him on occasion- but the few instances of kindness probably just confuses Moreau more. He doesn’t like not being able to predict what Karl would do or feel.

Moreau was aware and has met the Duke before his mutation, and sensed some eerie things about him. Never heard of him anywhere, doesn’t know where he’s from, just… there hanging around the village at convenient times ?? But salvatore isn’t complaining, considering how generous the man is when it comes to providing some food and shelter when he needs it. He also just so happens to have some peculiar samples of preserved sea life that he said were just “brought from a friend”. Moreau loves to marvel at those in particular, and has bought a sample for himself just to gaze at in the comfort of his own home. But the Duke also has a great selection of movies and books too- Moreau eats that stuff up. But even with all the offered goods, he still feels wary around him. The Duke kinda has a weird Eldritch effect on people that makes you feel confused and unsettled even though there are no perceived threats, and Moreau gets paranoid easily, so he prefers to keep their times together more limited, even if they are pleasant. But post mutation, the Duke is one of Moreau’s only friends and confidantes. He frequently drags himself to him to purchase books or movies, but still feels ashamed for it (and feeling like a burden). And yeah Moreau frequently visits the Duke to also vent and cry about how he feels neglected by Miranda and how hideous he feels. The Duke naturally pities him, but is more so saddened to see how his acquaintance has gotten to such a state. Poor Moreau… he wishes there was a way he could intervene and keep this from happening to him. But there’s no use, seeing as Moreau has lost his memory of who or what his life once was. The best he could do is keep him company, offer him some new pieces of entertainment, and listen to him cry his woes whenever he needs to.

2. After everything, and assuming he is able to regain his memories, he wants to still help people definitely. Being a doctor is the first thing he’d try to return to doing, but he knows his appearance is unsettling, so it’ll take a while for that shell to break through. But outside of that, he wants to return to a more simple life. And of course- fishing. He’d probably like to go back to fishing, since he’s already used to doing that in his mutated form as well. It has always brought him some peace of mind, and if anyone else is willing, he’d make some food for them from his catch of that day. He also wouldn’t mind making and selling homemade crafts- it’d help with the guilt of his experiments and making bad things for mother Miranda- maybe this time, he can make good things for everyone else and maybe potential friends? But definitely most importantly for him, he wants to rejoin society. Even if his appearance wouldn’t allow for total normalcy, it would be amazing just to watch a movie on the big screen, or go to a movie club to just talk about film, and just walk around in the open. Buying things, meeting people (even if he isn’t socialized very well), sharing what he knows and loves… just being human. That’s probably what he wants to feel and return to, whether he retains his pre-mutation memory or not. And maybe even try his hand at writing his own scripts just for fun.

3. Humble home! Wooded shack by the reservoir- he likes to keep the place clean too. He has fishing gear around the place, and a table for crafting little trinkets like lures and bracelets. He has lots of books, mostly science, medicine and biology stuff, but also self help books like Carnegie’s “How to Win Friends and Influence People” and some film books and classic literature (thrillers and romances are his favorites). His medicine and general doctoring gear, notes, etc etc is in a separate room (he likes to keep things easy to find. Everything has its place and every place has its designated things). And of course, he has an old monochrome TV and a radio in his kitchen/dining area. He likes to work with music or white noise from the TV while he cooks for himself. He probably likes this home a lot too due to its vicinity to the fishing area- just a short walk away, and he can go have fun fishing.

Sorry this took so long, but I hope you like it!

#resident evil 8 #salvatore moreau #human salvatore moreau #text post #headcanons #alcina dimitrescu #donna beneviento #angie beneviento #karl heisenberg #resident evil #resident evil village

48 notes · View notes

beevean · 3 years

Text

SEGA and its most recent Sonamy side – more canon than ever

[Translator’s note: this article was originally written in Spanish by @latin-dr-robotnik]

Hello again! Today we’d like to discuss about something that’s been happening recently, and probably taking Sonic fans by surprise: what is going on with SEGA and its stance about Sonamy?

At the beginning of this year, to celebrate the 200 articles on Seaside Hill Paradise, I finished what I call “the Sonamy trilogy” of articles that I started in 2018 and which cover different themes, such as:

SEGA and the eternal issue of the Sonic-Amy dynamic

“I love you” – Forbidden words in Sonic

SEGA and the eternal issue of “Sonic’s girlfriend”

The idea was to offer a more-or-less complete analysis about the many facets of their dynamic in the last 27 years; a dynamic that, you may have noticed, is not that easy to pin down, and that we’ve been updating almost regularly (although I also intended to investigate on other dynamics, like Knuckles and Rouge’s for example, and write about them). Generally speaking, in these articles I don’t draw objective conclusions about the status of the ship in canon (despite the fact that the available information tends to confirm it in various occasions). I also like to repeat myself and say that shipping is supposed to be for fun, not for tearing each other’s hair in that black hole of misery that is Twitter, but recent events left us slightly perplexed, and this is why we’re here once again.

We left the status of the Sonamy canonicity with these two peculiar instances back in August: Sonic mentioning his “girlfriend” in the Japanese version of Sonic Battle, and the Twitter account of SEGA of Europe saying Sonamy is their “favorite videogame romance”. Now, let’s recap a bit…

Sonamy in Sonic IDW... Round 3

[SPOILERS ALERT FOR IDW SONIC #14-#35]

In 2018, when IDW just started, I decided to study a little how the Sonamy dynamic worked in this new universe. To our surprise, the comic didn’t waste time in dropping its biggest bomb, in one of the cutest scenes we had seen in ages. Since the very beginning, IDW proved that it didn’t intend to deceive those fans that looked for a bit of development of both characters.

I wrote an article about it in June 2019, and it coincided with the beginning of one of the most infamous arc I’ve seen in a Sonic comic for a long time: the Metal Virus Saga. The question is, what has happened since then?

Well, in 2019, with the same accuracy of an aimbot, I said “We’ll probably see some new interactions between Sonic and Amy sometime around IDW #20”. And wouldn’t you know, as misery and tragedy settled in that arc, it was exactly around IDW #20 that we saw some Sonamy interactions: both exhausted, to their limit, with a Sonic that couldn’t even touch Amy to soothe her pain, due to him being infected with the virus.

The arc developed like this in what felt like an eternity, to finally conclude in one the most absurd ways in Sonic history. But it wasn’t a complete disappointment, as, after months and months of asking and discussing on the internet about how much Sonic and Amy deserved a hug at the end of the arc… it actually happened.

Since that moment in IDW #32, we shippers thought that it was what both of them deserved after so much time spent separated and pushed to their limit to survive, but also that after the end of the arc everything would go back to normal. However, what we didn’t know was that the Sonamy train had no intention of stopping, not in IDW, nor anywhere else.

A recurring detail in IDW Sonic is that Amy’s tail starts wagging every time she sees Sonic, as if she was a happy dog. I swear, it happens every time.

Come IDW #35, once again we have some hugs and bits of dialogue between our hedgehogs. For sure, the question here isn’t their relationship itself, as it was for IDW #2, but rather the issues this arc is slowly dealing with. But it’s really nice to see them again, sharing that closeness that they’ve had in the comic since the beginning– be it with some gestures of affection, a wink, a gesture, a private joke.

My favorite image is the first one, Belle’s reaction to seeing Amy hugging Sonic. It’s like she’s thinking “oh, is she his girlfriend?”, and she wouldn’t even be wrong in thinking that.

It can’t be denied that IDW Sonic provided us the conversations and the emotions that the games seldom do. Certainly, the comic has its share of issues and it’s not really a story that I personally follow for its own merits (it’s more because it’s still Sonic, for my interest for things like this, and Belle’s existence… whom I already ship with Tails, sorry not sorry), but what it does well it does really well.

For now, we have to see how IDW Sonic will follow the development of the characters, especially in view of the closure of the current story and beyond. And we may be done with this part of the article, but there is still a lot left.

Sonamy in merchandise

Taking us completely by surprise, recently SEGA launched, in collaboration with Hot Topic, a series of Sonamy-themed t-shirts. No, seriously.

So many people told me this as soon as the voice spread (you know who you are, thank you guys for thinking about me <3), and I can’t help being still surprised that this is actually a thing. T-shirts with lines like “You’re my favorite”, “Love in the fast lane”, and my personal favorite, “S&A Forever”, with drawings of Classic Sonic and Amy… in SEGA-approved products. I don’t know if you realize how much of a big deal this is, even more than “Celebrate the 25 years of Sonic’s girlfriend” from 2018.

One of the things that surprised me the most (aside from how explicit they are in officializing the relationship, and the fact that there are still 2 months left before Valentine’s Day 2021), was the decision to use Classic Sonic and Classic Amy. I tried to understand this decision by analyzing the simplicity and easiness with which the Classic designs convey a message (let’s not forget that Classic Sonic was so iconic because it was specifically designed to convey his expressions without words), besides the fact that they’re inherently cuter than their modern designs. There’s also the controversial aspect of post-Adventure Sonamy, with all the dubbing and weird interpretations that the fandom made over the years… By comparison, the Classic design are a much simpler choice.

What is actually going on?

Well, let’s take a step back and think about what we just saw. The way SEGA has been recently trying to push Sonic and Amy in front view (and for the entirety of 2020, based on the articles I mentioned in the beginning) tells us the harsh truth we all have to accept sooner or later: Sonamy sells, and it sells a lot.

From a strictly business point of view, the ship is so iconic and popular, with fans and detractors alike, that it would be absurd for SEGA to ignore the chance to print these two characters and get a load of money. As I said in my 2018 article, despite the fact that in Japan Sonic isn’t as big of an icon as it is elsewhere, they know pretty well that Sonic + Amy = love, and they have huge amounts of merchandise to back it up. It’s in the West that because of different cultural values, of which we’ve already talked about, along with some internal resistance, left this aspect of the franchise a little on the side. But they’ve been trying to fix it… and how…

Let’s not forget that a decade and a half ago Sonic Team seriously favored Sonamy. They officially said it, Sonic X was their purest view of Sonic they had at the time.

Outside of the business perspective, I believe we’re facing the moment that we’ve been waiting for: it’s time they’ll establish once and for all the dynamic of these two characters, following more closely the original Japanese vision of Sonic. I said many times that, in trying to change canon, the West, especially SEGA of America, did nothing but confuse fans and generate more discussions than needed, by introducing different data and portrayals that contradict the canon established by Sonic Team.

We’ve talked about Unleashed and emotional support, about Sonic X, about the major moments that opened the door to interpreting this dynamic as something more. We don’t threaten at gunpoint those who would rather stay away, but we respond to those declarations that still try to violently discredit the simple fact that Sonic and Amy, who are most of all close friends, form in some measure a couple that, even with its imposed limitations, manages to captivate fans and not fans everywhere in the world. Even the Simpsons used it as a joke, and that says a lot.

What the future has in store for us.

Unless something else happens in this last month of 2020, this is the most complete compilation I can offer at the moment about the status of Sonamy in the fandom and in the official canon. Yes, canon.

It’s impossible to ignore the signals. As you may have noticed, I’ve been considering Sonic and Amy as an official couple, with its clarifications (for example, that at the end it’s more of a friendship, that it’s not a romantic relationship in the most explicit way, that it’s more of a personal perspective to justify a more mature vision of the relationship in the future, not right now), but nowadays I think that SEGA has spoken loud and clear. I think canon is ready to negotiate the idea that Sonic and Amy, apart from being excellent friends who would risk their lives for each other in a heartbeat, have something else on their hands (probably the other’s hand). This won’t automatically translate into a kiss, or a complete love declaration (although Sonic X came close…), or a commitment to a formal relationship like we know them in real life. SEGA canon affirms that Amy is “Sonic’s girlfriend” and nothing more. Outside of that detail, they still pretty much function as friends interacting with a little flirting here, and a little Sonic running away there. It’s the basis of their dynamic, now enhanced by the fact that SEGA is giving us a clearer message.

I think that this all may culminate in a game or an animated series, but I wouldn’t completely count on that. It is good to recognize how far the official position goes on this issue, but at the same time I want to reaffirm that there are things that are better left in the hands of the fandom, and in the meantime that IDW or any other continuity gives us hugs, winks, gestures and words of encouragement, we as the fandom will take care of exploring other avenues and hypothetical scenarios.

This is all I have to say on the matter for now, and I hope you’re happy with this wonderful Sonamy experience we’re going through – I certainly am. See you next time!

#sonic the hedgehog #sonamy #amy rose #translation #long post #whew #this one was a doozy #but super interesting #thanks again latin for writing these long ass sonamy posts

324 notes · View notes

writingwithcolor · 4 years

Text

Cultural Christianity, Christian Appropriation, and Derailment

Periodically, I discuss the concept of cultural Christianity, the dangers of authors mucking with folklore that is not theirs, and what you have to guard against when you’re a part of a culturally Christian society.

And every time I do, like clockwork, Christians come in and say “but what about [non-Christian nation appropriating Christianity], hmmmmm????? That’s just as bad!”

So let’s talk about all of it.

Cultural Christianity

For starters: What is cultural Christianity?

Cultural Christianity is the fact the Western calendar is primarily built around two things: farming, and Christianity

Our dedicated time off that is mostly guaranteed to all workers are Christian holidays. Easter, Christmas, Good Friday. The time between Christmas and New Year is also prone to being off and this also in some dominions has Christian events.

And yes, I know that most of these holidays actually have pagan roots. Christianity co-opted them and thoroughly Christianized them, to the point their re-paganization only really started in the 1800s… by people who were also culturally Christian, and often wrote whole books on Christianity on top of their neo-pagan beliefs.

It’s how Christmas is considered a “neutral, secular” holiday, when it’s celebrating the birth of Christ. It’s how the concept of “other religions” exist, let alone the fact they have to ask for time off for their own holidays that count against their personal vacation time, when Christians often don’t have to do that. It’s how you see more churches than mosques or synagogues in the West by a very large factor.

There are very few places in the West that are not, on some level, culturally Christian. Some very insular communities might be able to escape a lot of the trappings of Christianity, but still. The government mandated days off are mostly Christian things.

Cultural Christianity means everyone who was raised in a culturally Christian society has a Christian lens. They are aware of Christianity, its holidays, its general story, its values.

This translates to them having to unlearn all of this and learn a whole new framework when they begin researching other folklore (Native religions, in my case, but this also applies to other religions such as Judaism and Islam) cause other folklore/religions do not have the same holidays, values, or even relationship to the deity in question.

Christian Appropriation

So in a non-Christian society, it is possible to appropriate Christianity. Because the same factors that have Christians appropriate everything else in the West are at play with a different dominant religion.

This mostly shows up in Japanese media. Japan has Shinto/Buddhism as a dominant religion, and you’ll often hear anime or manga artists say they simply picked Christian imagery because it looks cool.

And I agree this is disrespectful! It is really not fun to watch sacred imagery of your beliefs be used because “it looks cool” and I would love it if all appropriation of others’ beliefs ended.

But that often isn’t the focus of the posts getting these comments.

Derailment

This is twofold.

1- Very few places where Christianity isn’t the dominant religion exist.

Because Christian nations colonized most of the planet, there are a lot more culturally Christian places than you probably want to admit, if you’re the kind of person who pulls “but what about the appropriation.”. This includes a lot of Africa, a lot of Southeast Asia, a lot of Oceania, a lot of South America, basically all of North America, and basically all of Europe.

You might disagree with how they practice Christianity, but they are still Christian. This means they are culturally Christian. Just not your culturally Christian.

But, as I mentioned in the previous section, appropriation can happen. It just doesn’t happen much in the English speaking world, and I am speaking to the English speaking world. Specifically, the Western English speaking world, which is very much culturally Christian.

The places where Christianity isn’t the dominant religion, however, is mostly composed of non-white people, specifically Arab, South Asian, and East Asian. So these “but what about where Christianity is appropriated” often end up sounding like “why aren’t you persecuting people of colour”, which sounds like trying to justify racism against people over there to me.

2- You are trying to say you are as much of a victim as us, when you are not

If you live in the West, you are culturally Christian unless you have grown up very deeply entrenched in a non-Christian community.

You have grown up with a wide, wide, wide variety of Christian stories, Christian based stories, Christian values/worldviews-as-default told to you your whole life. Some of it has been terrible, some of it you disagree with, but by and large, every story has some infusion of Christianity to it. Some of the most popular fictional texts are deeply religious things, like the Chronicles of Narnia.

You have not had your religion forbidden from being practiced, to you personally.

You have only seen true appropriation in very recent times, because of the influx of non-Western media being imported.

You have not had your sacred places constantly, consistently infringed upon and destroyed for reasons like “an observatory” or “a pipeline” or “a dam” or “a mine”.

You may have dealt with misunderstandings and miscommunications but you have rarely had somebody fundamentally misunderstand what Christianity is (Jesus as lord and saviour, died for our sins, we should try to live a more godly life and a good life to get into Heaven and get eternal happiness).

Native people have not had any of those luxuries, and it has mostly been culturally Christian people who have taken what is ours and turned it into what they wanted it to be.

We have Christian pagans (paganism was founded and codified in the Victorian era, so no, it’s not “ancient wisdom” but more Victorians—who were definitely culturally Christian—interpreting everything to prove Christianity as more universal than it was*) peddle dream catchers and calling themselves medicine people and burning sage to the point it’s endangered, all trying to claim they’re “following Native practices” when they’re not.

So when I’m speaking to somebody in the Western world, 95% of the time I will be speaking to somebody culturally Christian.

*When you start to track the “studied ancient mysteries” things, you either find types like the Theosophical Society that wildly appropriated Hinduism and Buddhism to fit their own ends and often put in messiah figures into them to show how there’s a Christ everywhere on the planet, or you start to dive into people who took Christianized recordings of folklore who may or may not have sipped some “older religions are better for noble savages reason” juice.

It’s very often racist and pulling from records written down by missionaries who had a vested interest in modifying the folklore in question, or from people who’d already been Christianized, so its validity is questionable.

Beginning to Unlearn

If you want to learn more about cultural Christianity and how to be more respectful of non-Christian belief systems, take a look at the this post and the folklore tag in general. Those are great starting places for you to do deeper research into whatever marginalized belief you’re looking to use.

I’d also suggest earnestly learning about other belief structures’ customs, challenging your assumptions of what is neutral and universal and the proper way of doing things. You might find a lot of surprising things that you weren’t expecting, even just looking at Abrahamic religions.

In the end

When I’m speaking to somebody who wants to use Native folklore, I’m going to assume they’re culturally Christian and educate them accordingly.

I am having a conversation to Christians about the appropriation of Native culture and how not to do that.

I am not going to suddenly change topics to make Christians comfortable by proving that I’m a champion for them, because frankly, they shouldn’t be dangling respecting Natives if only they interrupt themselves to prove they’re properly educated on Christian issues. Because that demand is once again centring Christianity above Native people.

I am talking about Native issues, not Christian issues.

I do not accept derailments that are thinly veiled racism or persecution complexes based off “what if”s that have not actually happened in the West. I acknowledge they happen elsewhere, and that’s tragic. I am not the person to talk about those details. I’d rather pass the mic to Christians in the area and let them speak. They are not Western Christians’ shields to use as they will. They have a voice, as well.

I am not going to coddle people who feel that Christian values are diminishing from society because we need room for more than just Christian values and Christianity does not have a monopoly on being a good person.

I am talking about Christians appropriating Native American beliefs.

And if that makes you uncomfortable, to hear Western Christians have protection, insert their own dogma into too much, and have unlearning to do—without being able to tack on a story about how no, really, you’re a victim in the West—then you have more unlearning to do. I’ve given places to start learning above.

We are talking about Native issues right now.

And I will not stop calling Christians out for their religious-based colonialism.

~ Lesya

#guides #native american #culture #cultural christianity #folklore #religion #Christian #Christianity #long post

1K notes · View notes

ablackfangirlwrites · 4 years

Text

Lets talk about hair

So me and my bestie @dangercupcakewithmurderfrosting 🖤 were talking and she brought to my attention when most of the time when i headcanon black readers with thier hair its usual just natural or like box braids when in fact there are waaaaaaaaaay more styles then those two when it comes to doing our hair and in this headcanon post imma get into em! So i hope y'all enjoy 🖤💗🖤💗

Aizawa w/reader on a wash day

Okay so wash day for your hair are days Aizawa tries to stay out of your way

Its not a big deal to him

But sometimes he is a bit mesmerized watching just how much hair you have when you're blow drying it out

Although he gets a bit annoyed when he keeps finding your hair everywhere

But he cant get too mad because you have the same problem with him everyday

Now if your pressing or curling your hair after you wash and condition it

Hes a little scared at first why is that metel comp on the stove? Arent Your gonna burn your hair??? Even worst your self???

You have to explain to him how the hot comb works

It really did confuse him at first

He'll ask if you need help with the back

He doesnt know how so you kindly decline his offer

Once your done hell ccomplement you telling it looks nice

Will ask you do wash his hair next

Present mic w/reader who wears wigs

Okay so before the two you actually dated one of the things he noticed about you was how much you changed your hair

One day it would be short another it would be long

One day it was purple the next day it was blond

First he would probably assume it was your quirk

But quickly he'd discover it wasn't when he found out your quirk had nothing to do with your hair

He definitely always complaints you on what ever style you have

Because he genuinely likes it

And it keeps in on his toes

When the of you start dating thats when he learns just how many wigs you have

And hes honestly amazed

"Can I wear one?"

"No."

Admires how much energy you put into keeping your wigs nice and clean

His only problem is hes a little creeped out by the mannequin heads that you have in your closet

Toshinori w/reader with box braids

Okay so he lived in America for a while so he knows what box are

But he has no idea how it happeneds

"Whats all this hair for?"

You explain to him what your doing and hes just like oh

Watches you the whole time in amazement

"Your poor arms...and fingers"

"Do you want help?"

Hes very interested in learning how to do it

You try to teach him at first he keeps tangling up your hair but eventually he gets it

If someone else does your braids

Hes just admires them

If you let him he enjoys idly playing with then

Hawks w/reader with sew in and crochet

Kinda gets annoyed when he cant touch his your hair when you have a sew in

"Wait....they sew that into your hair???? Wtf?"

You pretty much ignore him cause thats a stupid question

You change your style and colors a lot

And one day he asked if he can go with you to the hair store

Is very excited to go

Idk what hair store u guys have been in but everyone i have ever been in is small and is kinda hard to move in

That being said poor keigo cant fit in there because of his wings 😔

Makes you video chat him while your in the store

"Get the pink one..no the grey one!"

"Get the curly one."

"Wait i like the braided one."

"Get them all!"

Whats you to go all out on it

Its kinda exhausting

Askes if he can crochet some of your hair

it looks interesting and he just want to try it

There is no way you're letting keigo touch your hair

You're very tired when your done

He just smiles at you and gives you a quick kiss, "you look very cute."

Honestly loves everything you do with your hair

Is really annoyed you wont let him touch your hair

380 notes · View notes

floatinginwords · 3 years

Text

Saved by the Devil (12/?) - Tommy Shelby

Summary: One week before Epsom you or tommy can get your minds off one another

Paring: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (romantic)

A/N: sorry it took so long for me to post this chapter. this semester is just killing me. i really hate online school dude. oh and fair warning i did not proof read this so there might be mistakes please be forgiving towards them. Hope you enjoy and have a fantastic night.

One week before Epsom. A lot was going through your head as time seem to go faster and faster. Tommy hadn’t called you or seen you since you were last in Birmingham.

‘Probably busy with May’ you thought to yourself. You rolled your eyes as you recount her giggles and flirtatious behavior.

“What was that?” Trinity asks. You almost forgot she was in the same room as you. You almost forgot you were in her house. Giving her the last of what you needed for when you were ready to runaway from the country.

“Sorry, just thinking.” You say, going back to sipping your tea.

“Okay, is there anything else I need to worry about or hide for you.”

“Well hopefully I wont need to have so many fake ids, and I can get a legitimate one.” You say sighing.

“Hows that going?”

“Its going.” You say, though you weren’t really sure if helping Thomas Shelby ensured you for what you wanted. Its why you had a backup plan. You always did.

“When are you leaving, (Y/n)?” Trinty asks.

“next Friday hopefully.”

Trinitys eyes almost pop out of their socket. “That soon?!”

You nod. Right after Epsom you were gone. You needed to make quick moves and this one seemed the quickest and smartest. You were starting to recognize faces on trains and buses. Men were following you. You didn’t know who these men were and why they casually followed you places but it helped you make an important decision that it was time to leave. And soon.

“What are you gonna do about Thomas Shelby?”

“What about him?”

She wiggles her eyebrows at you.

“No.” You say.

“oh cmon, you want him a little bit at least.”

“Not even.” You lie.

“Oh cmon he calls you and you rush to him like a puppy and vice versa. Ada told me that when she called him when you were missing he dropped everything to help you, even rushed over himself.” She says

“Trinity please drop it. Hes just someone good to have around.”

“Yea he is.” She says suggestively.

“No.” You say but the two of you end up giggling at Trinity’s antics as you enjoy the rest of your afternoon.

Thomas Shelby stares across at the empty seat that not too long ago held a sitting Grace. It felt like years since he had seen her. And he thought that the same emotions from before, from every other time he saw her would brew back up and he’d be in love with her again. But as she talked about America and her new husband all he could see was the woman who betrayed him and his family. She left, nothing happened between them, though it easily could have. He sits and thinks about the woman in his life. He thinks about Greta how he held her hand as he died, Grace the way she had made him smile for the first time in years and then broke hi heart as if it was the first time ever, May who was charming but he knew he would never talk to her after (seeing as he was only using her). And there was you. No amount of words can describe you accurately. They wouldn’t do you justice. Tommy smiles as he recalls the last time he saw you. The flustered look as he said the word ‘date’ as you left the pub. Polly had demanded answers on what he was doing with you. Which he calmly replied, “Business pol, don’t worry about it.” He saw the tension between the two of you when he had walked in. He knew that polly would grow to love and trust you the more she got to know you. You were just that type of person.

Without thinking he picks up the phone, calling adas house. Lucky for him, its you that picks up.

“hello?”

“(Y/n).”

“Mr.Shelby. Are you calling for Ada?”

“No, I was calling for you. How do you feel about Charlie Chaplin?”

*******************************************************************************************

It was only two hours ago when you had gotten back from Trinitys when the phone rang in you and Adas shared house. You picked up naturally not expecting to hear the sweet deep voice of Thomas Shelby. He had invited you out, which you accepted without thinking. He had picked you up in a car after telling you to dress nice which you did finding a dress you never worn. It was a lovely shade of green. A pity for it to go waste.

You kept telling yourself its just business as you applied a bit of lipstick to your lips. Its just business you think as you rush down the stairs when you see his car pull up in front. Its just business you think as you open the door and see him standing there looking amazing.

“You look exquisite.” He says And a thought sneaks up through the cracks of your mind, ‘its not just business.’

When the two of you arrive at the party, the two of you have a grand time as you mingle with famous people and eat little appetizers on plates. You ignore the drinks and the bar not wanting to get drunk.

“Would you care for a dance?” He asks you. The two of you were sat at a table when a slow song comes on and all the couples rush to the floor.

“I’m afraid to say that I’m not much of a dancer.” You say embarrassed by your lack of skill.

“Im sure we can remedy that with some practice.” He smiles, taking your hand and leading you away. And you cant help but follow entranced by the way he guides you and holds you gently. The music is lovely and awfully romantic. You look everywhere else but his eyes. Knowing that you’d just end up lost within them. You watch the couples dancing, wondering which ones were in love or not. You stumble a bit as you attempt to not step on his toes. You do a good job at following his lead although you’re incredibly stiff.

“Hey, are you okay?” Thomas voice breaks you from your thoughts. You lock eyes a time seems to stop. For a moment you think he’s gonna kiss you.

He continues speaking, “C’mon lets get out of here.”

The two of you head back to tommys, the silence comfortable. Though you didn’t have anything to drink, you feel drunk off his presence. You wish now that you have talked to Trinity or Ada about your conflicting feelings because at this moment as you sit down again on his couch you had no idea how to act.

“So Epsom…are you ready?” He says

“As ready as ill ever be.”

“You’ll be there right?”

“Of course. I said I would.”

Another smile falls on to his face as he moves to his vinyl, playing a record that was on it. He holds hi hand out again like at the party.

“What are you doing?” You ask

“Asking to dance, do you not want the practice.”

You smirk and grab his hand. He pulls you in closer than before. His hand resting on your hip and his other hand intertwined with your hand. Again you try to look away from him but then fingers guide your chin to his eyes.

“Keep your eyes on me.” He says.

And you do. And for a moment you feel this gravitational pull. You see him lean forward; you close your eyes. And then…

RING the phone rings terribly through the apartment,

“Fuck,” he mutters the edge of his lips barely brushing over yours, he leans back, “stay right here.” He leaves to pick up the phone.

You take a deep shaky breath as he leave you standing by yourself. You hear him pick up the phone and quietly talk into the receiver end of it. You sit down on the couch replaying what just happened in your head. Your heart beats fast against your skin and you know no doubt that your flustered as can be. You sit to catch your breath and hopefully steady your beating heart.

Two small knocks on the door. You think to get Tommy but he sounds aggravated you decide to not bother him. You open the door yourself revealing a beautiful blond woman. You blink confused of what she could want, she looks at you equally confused.

“Hi is tommy here,” her Irish accent is clear as day, “You know what never mind that I just need to get something real quick.”

She pushes pass you and goes immediately to the couch digging her hand through the cushions. She pulls out a ring and sighs in relief.

“Imagine going home without this.” She says to you.

“Im sorry I-“ You finally find the words to speak but she interrupts you.

“Its okay he probably didn’t tell you. Im grace. I was here a couple hours ago. he’s always been one to move on fast.” She says with a tone of disapproval as she looks up and down at you.

“Did you meet Chaplin? Hes one of my favorite actors.” Grace continues.

You feel scrutinized under her gaze. She walks past you with a smile. She knows her words cut you deep even if you don’t show it.

“Tell Tommy I said bye. Enjoy your time.” And then she’s gone.

You stand in the same spot by the door. You finally met grace. The one he was with a year ago. The one he named his horse after, the one he kept unopened letters, the one he didn’t like talking about. She was here and she was beautiful. Were you just a second choice for him? And easy get since he couldn’t have what he wanted?

“(y/n) why are you standing by the door?” you hear tommys voice from behind you.

“I think I should go home,” Before he can ask why, you answer that question, “Grace came by.”

“(y/n)..”

“No this is good before we do something stupid, right?” You say trying to laugh it off, though on the inside your hurting.

“Lets talk about this..”

“Mr. Shelby we’re both drunk and not thinking clearly”

“You haven’t been drinking all night and I’m as sober as I’ve ever been.”

You shake your head, “Why did you bring me out tonight? Was it cause she said no?”

“I-I” For the first time Thomas Shelby was at a loss for words.

You sigh, “Ill see you at Epsom, Mr.Shelby”

And then you left.

Read pt.13

Tags

@babylooneytoonz @captivatedbycillianmurphy @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @evelyn-4034 @ms-dont-care @owenniasstars @shikin83 @lauren-raines-x

#tommy shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #Saved by the devil fic #fanfic

50 notes · View notes

setaripendragon · 3 years

Text

I don’t know if anyone remembers my silly little Narnia fic where the Pevensie kids all get meet-cutes with their future partners, but I’ve been working on a silly little sequel ever since, and I finally finished it. So, here’s the Pevensies finally getting together (sort of) with their partners, from the partner’s PoV, because I figured t hey deserved to get a say.

Jane had crushes before. A couple of really childish ones that were more her playing at mimicking the concept before the war forced her to grow up too fast, and then a few more serious ones after her little jaunt to Neverland as puberty dug its nasty little claws in. Peter was different.

Her Peter, not Peter Pan, even though Peter Pevensie wasn’t really her Peter at all. He was her best friend, sure, and had been since the day he’d let her flatten a couple of bullies by herself before he leapt in to de-escalate the situation, but he wasn’t hers. Not like she wanted him to be. Because not only was he kind of ridiculously handsome, and just carried himself with the sort of confidence and poise that could steal anyone’s breath, but he was also just an incredibly good person.

Which, Jane had found, was kind of rare, in boys. And maybe part of that was because Peter – her Peter, not- whatever – was a lot more grown up than the other boys her age, but she didn’t think so. He could be verygrown up when he wanted to be – which was awe-inspiring in it’s own way – but even when he was being silly and playful and ridiculously childish, he was still good. He was never horrid, never unkind, not even in jest. He never looked down on her, never held back if she instigated a bit of rough-housing, but he also never pushed her too hard, or gloated when he won, or sulked when he lost.

Jane had felt strangely alone after she got back from Neverland. She’d gained a new appreciation for the joys and wonders of childhood, but she hadn’t lost her understanding of responsibility and duty. She could get along with kids and adults, but she always felt so out of place. Like she was hiding half of herself just to fit in. That, and, she’d never been particularly lady-like to begin with, and living with the Lost Boys even for a few dayshad ruined her for any sort of delicate dignity and grace, so she didn’t really fit in with the girls her own age.

Peter – not-really-her Peter – was the same as her. Too grown-up for his age, but with a strong sense of whimsy and fantasy that would have most grown-ups giving him the same odd looks Jane got. He told the best stories, and her temper never seemed to throw him, and if he was sometimes a bit overbearing, like it didn’t even occur to him that she might, possibly, have a different opinion or a better idea, he never acted like she didn’t have a right to call him out on it. When they argued – and they did, fairly regularly, even – it was never with intent to wound, just with passion and ideas spilling out too fast and too loud and too important to hold back.

Jane was pretty sure she loved him. Her mother had warned her to be careful, not to hang all her hopes on one boy when she was still so young, and Jane tried, she really did, but she honestly couldn’t imagine a better man than Peter Pevensie.

Not that there was anything happening. Because the problem was that she and Peter had been best friends for years. Peter didn’t have quite her problems with his peers, he got on well enough with the boys in their year, but it was clear – to Jane, at least – that he was also holding a little of himself back, when he was with them. Not with her. And that was good, that was great – it was amazing, quite frankly – but it was also a little bit painful.

Because, of course, they got teased. A lot. A boy and a girl spending that much time together? Everyonejust assumed they were ‘together’. And Jane got flustered, and that made her angry, and that made her even more flustered. She yelled at the other girls who wouldn’t stop asking about her ‘boooyfriend’, and she punched the boys who wouldn’t stop making lewd commentaries, and blushed ridiculously at any mention of the notion.

Peter was phased at all. ‘Hey, Pevensie, is that your girlfriend?’ was invariably answered with the sort of stern-disappointed stare that would put any parent or teacher to shameand a bland ‘Jane is my friend’. Which, of course, Jane really did appreciate, because being Peter’s friend was just about the best thing that had happened to her since Neverland. It just… would have been nice to see even a hintthat he might possibly have even once thought of her as more than that.

Still, she’d thought, they were still young, they had plenty of time. Only they didn’t. Because then Jane found out that Peter had enlisted. He was too young, technically, but Jane wasn’t surprised that that hadn’t stopped him. He was pretty big on duty – a bit too much, sometimes, but Jane really kind of loved him for that, too – and on fighting bigotry anywhere and everywhere he found it, so it really, really wasn’t a surprise.

It wasscary, though. A little bit terrifying, because he might not come back. He might go out there to fight, and he might dieinstead. That would tear her apart no matter what, but it alsomade her think that she might not have another chance to ever tell him, to ever knowif maybe…

And if there was one thing Neverland had taught Jane, it was that sometimes the amazing things didn’t happen unless you believedthey would. Sometimes you had to jump off the damn cliff and just have faith that you would fly, instead of fall. She kind of wished she had a little pixie dust right now, though, just to give her that extra boost.

Because Peter was standing in front of her, and sometime while Jane had been fretting, they’d managed to walk all the way to the god damned train station, and he was literally minutes away from leaving. He looked kind of dashing in the uniform, but he also looked – hilariously – uncomfortable. She would have expected him to look at home in it, with how he was about duty and fighting and all, but no. He kept tugging at the sleeves and shifting his shoulders and grimacing.

And she loved the stupid face he pulled when he really just wanted to stick his tongue out in disgust but won’t because he was trying to be polite. She loved his stupid face no matter what expression he was wearing, and she needed him to know thatbefore he left. Just in case.

So she grabbed him by the front of his uniform – uncaring that she was interrupting whatever his little sister was saying, because if she cared, then she wouldn’t be able to go through with it, and then she’d neverget around to it – and told him “Don’t die.” in as stern a tone as she could manage before she yanked him down as she went up on tiptoes to press her mouth against his. Thatshould get the message across.

It wasn’t, exactly, the world’s best kiss. It wasn’t exactly even a proper kiss at all. Jane just held there for a long moment, not moving, eyes scrunched shut, her lips against his, until her courage faltered, and she dropped back down onto her heels and opened her eyes to stare up at him belligerently.

Peter looked… stunned. Which was at least better than disgusted. Or pitying. His eyes were unfocused, gazing off into nothingness somewhere a little above her head, and his jaw was slightly slack, lips just a tiny bit parted. “Oh.” He said, like it was a prelude to something, only that was it, he didn’t say anything else, just kept staring, and blinking, and staring some more.

Someone – probably Lucy – tried to pretend a snicker was actually a cough, and the noise seemed to knock Peter out of his trance. He shook himself, frowning for a brief moment before his gaze refocused on Jane, and- and everything just sort of stopped. Jane’s breath turned syrupy in her lungs and the rest of the platform just faded into fuzzy nothingness, because Peter was looking at her like he was really seeingher, like he was looking at something deeper than her damned bones, and was awed by what he saw. “Oh.” He said again, this time with a whole heap more emphasis and an entire world of meaning behind it.

It sounded infinitely better than the last one, so Jane tried for a smile. Peter grinned back, and Jane felt like she could possibly just float away without any helpful pixie dust at all. He reached up, curled a hand around the side of her neck – his hand was so warm – and leaned in. Then he hesitated, tilted his head, tried again, and finally managed to fit their mouths together. It was awkward, but also really endearing, and Jane didn’t care either way, because Peter’s – herPeter, and he really was hers– lips were on hers and moving and sliding and kissing, and her entire world narrowed down to that one sensation.

“I promise I will do my very best not to die.” Peter told her as he drew back.

“You’d better.” Jane snapped, letting go of his collar to poke him in the chest. “Because if that was all I getfrom you, Pevensie, I will drag you back from the land of the dead just to kill you myself.” Peter laughed, unfazed, and kissed her again.

---

The war was over, and Jack was finally home. Or, well, sort of home. He wouldn’t really feel like he’d made it home until he was back in America, but the Kingsley estate was close enough, the site of enough childhood misadventures to count. It was close enough, and if he was being honest with himself, he was putting off his return to the States, just a little. He could have been through the mirror and back home in a trice, without having to worry about boats or planes or travel time, but instead he was lingering about in London.

He made up excuse after excuse as to why he was staying, but the truth was, he was still hoping that he might run into Susan again. It was stupid, he knewit was stupid, she was a beautiful, clever, gentlewoman, and there was absolutely no guarantee that she’d even rememberhim, even if he did manage to find her again.

Everyone he’d asked from the pub where they’d met knew her, knew ofher, but no one knew any more about her than Jack did. Not even her last name. It was depressing, and made Jack feel like a stalker, so he’d stopped asking about her. He did not leave London, though, stupid hopeless romantic that he was.

Dwelling on it was even more stupid, he thought as he made his way back from a grocery run for Sunday lunch tomorrow that Lynn had forced him to go on to get him out of her hair for a while. He was being a pest, he should just go home, but the Underlandian in him insisted that home was where the heart was, and right now, his heart still hadn’t managed to let go of Susan.

Jack stopped dead on the sidewalk, staring, because there was no way- He was seeing things because he’d been thinking about her too much. Susan, walking with a younger girl at her side and arguing good naturedly with one of the boys a little ahead of them. “Susan?!” Jack called out before he could help himself, and jogged across the street towards her.

She looked up, eyes going wide with shock on spotting him. She looked so painfully youngin that moment, almost frightened, that Jack slowed uncertainly before he’d even reached her. Still, he pulled his most charming grin on, the one that she’d never been fooled by, but had seemed amused by, nonetheless, and swept her a gallant bow like he would if he unexpectedly ran into Lilibeth. “Jack.” Susan greeted, and that was definitely not the open, pleased greeting he’d been hoping for. She sounded reserved, wary, and worst of all, uncertain.

Jack let his smile dim a bit, and told himself it was ridiculous to feel disappointed. It wasn’t as if they had anything more than one evening of interesting conversation. But it had been the most genuineconversation Jack had managed in years, it had been so Underlandian, like a breath of fresh air in amongst the choking smog of the war.

“Su? Who’s this?” One of the boys asked, frowning at him.

“This is Sergeant Jack Manchester.” Susan introduced. “Jack, these are my brothers and sister, Peter, Edmund, and Lucy.”

Jack offered his hand to Peter, then to Edmund, and then to Lucy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” He said sincerely, and then returned his attention to Susan. “I was hoping I’d run into you again, maybe get your permission to buy you a drink, this time?” He asked, and it came out a little tentative, because she still didn’t look nearly as at ease as she had when they’d first met.

“You mean you didn’task permission the first time?” Peter demanded, glowering.

Definitely a big brother, that one, Jack thought with a grin. “I asked forgiveness, instead.” He replied cheerfully.

“Oh, thatJack.” Lucy said wickedly. “I should have known when you bowed.” She added, nudging Susan, who was going ever so slightly pink. “Mum went ballisticwhen she heard Susan talking about you, you know.”

Jack blinked. Would parental disapproval account for how wary Susan seemed right now? Not that he could imagine whythey wouldn’t like him, unless they were some of the people who hated Americans. He could whip out his ‘noble’ English lineage if that would help. “I’m not that scruffy, am I?” He asked, playfully looking down at himself as if checking for dirt or mis-buttoned clothes, and then peeking back up at Susan, looking for a proper answer.

“Not at all.” Susan assured him, and therewas that bright, sharp lady he’d met last time. She was trying to hide her smile, and the appreciative look she cast him, but she wasn’t trying that hard, and it made Jack beam at her in hope that maybe he hadn’t blown this before there even wasa ‘this’.

“No, I think she was more upset about your age.” Edmund interjected, earning himself a truly fierce glare from Susan. He smiled back innocently.

Jack blinked again. “My… age?” He asked. “I’m only twenty-eight.” He pointed out, cautious and bewildered. Susan might be a little younger than him, but not by more than four or five years. He’d thought as much in the pub, particularly when she laughed, that she was maybeon the wrong side of twenty, but he doubted it. Only, he realised, looking at her now, that she stilllooked like she was maybe on the wrong side of twenty.

Susan wasn’t quite meeting his gaze, and she looked… unhappy. Lips pressed into a thin line, and expression carefully neutral in a way that Jack didn’t believe for an instant. “Ten years.” Edmund murmured thoughtfully. “That’s not quite as bad as Mum was afraid of, I think.”

Ten years. That meant that when Jack had met her, when Jack had teased and flirted and fallen just a little bit in love with her, Susan had been fifteen. It made him feel dizzy. After all, he’d started fights with the sort of creeps who would leer after his little sister that way, and Susan was the same age as Ruth.

That brought Jack’s train of thought to a screeching halt. Because trying to put Susan and Ruth next to each other and thinking of them as the same age just… didn’t seem to want to workin his mind. Susan had notbehaved like a fifteen year old in that pub. Not even a little bit. He wondered, giving Susan a slightly closer look, just how old she’d be on the other side of a mirror.

“At least I’m not as bad as Great-Uncle Tarrant.” Jack said, and then snorted, because, wow, that was an understatement, even if it was hard to gauge the exact age difference when some days he was actually younger than Great-Aunt Alice.

“How bad is Great-Uncle Tarrant?” Lucy asked curiously.

It was a bit of a struggle to do the maths. Underland didn’t really agreewith things like maths. “I’m pretty sure that, chronologically, Great-Aunt Alice is more than twenty years younger than him.” Jack answered, because that was as exact as he could get, and then he brightened as an absolutely brilliant idea occurred to him. “If you wanted, you could come meet them? We’re doing Sunday roast tomorrow, and the whole family’ll be there.” He offered to Susan, who looked just as shocked as she had when he’d called out to her earlier.

“You want me to meet your family?” Susan asked cautiously.

Jack nodded, smiling warmly. “I think they’d love you.” He told her, entirely honestly, and didn’t add the follow up that was sitting on the tip of his tongue; I think I could love you, my gentle queen.

“That sounds like a great idea.” Peter said, which startled Jack a little, since Peter didn’t seem to like him very much. The clap on the shoulder Peter then gave him was a little too rough to be called friendly. “We’ll be there.”

Ah, Jack thought, amused. Not letting his sister go off with a strange man into foreign territory alone, that’swhat that was about. “The more the merrier.” Jack assured him, and only realised just how right he’d been to say it when Peter wasn’t the only one who relaxed. Besides, it was true. If he was bringing Susan, then a good portion of the guest list from Underland probably shouldn’t come, and that meant that Lynn was going to make far too much food for just the ordinary human-like people. Three more mouths to feed would barely make a dent.

He gave them his address, promised them again that everyone would be delighted to meet them, bowed again to Susan and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand in farewell, and jogged off home with a spring in his step that hadn’t been there before.

---

Tavan was finding it increasingly hard to sit still. Lynn reached across the table and put her hand over his, and it was only then that he realised he’d been fiddling with his cuff to the point of fraying it. Sheepishly, he tucked his hands out of sight under the table, and Lynn rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t know why you’re fretting so, Tavan. Edmund’s already proven he’s not going to baulk at a bit of Underlandish magic.” She pointed out, going back to doing the household accounts.

Edmund had done a lot more than that, Tavan thought. Edmund had proven to be brilliantly sharp-witted, curious, and adaptable. Tavan didn’t think he’d ever once heard the phrase ‘but that’s not how that works’ or any of the derivatives from him, and he’d thought up as many of the more shocking things about Underland that he could, just to make sure. Edmund had figured him out in a hot second, of course, because Edmund was brilliant, but he hadn’t been upset. He just looked sneakily amused in that way he had, and asked drolly if he’d passed the test.

Tavan had kissed him.

It was only after, when Edmund had crawled into his lap and quite thoroughly marked up his neck, and rumpled his shirt, that Tavan remembered that he was in Upland, and the belated panic hit. Edmund had taken one look at his poleaxed expression, and said, in a fond murmur; “You’re fine. I don’t think bigotry is the natural order of things, either.”

Tavan had beamed at him. “Yeah, ye passed the test.”

So now, Edmund had an invitation to Underland. Which would be fine, it would be great. Except. Except Tavan had thought he’d be taking Edmund to see Iplam, to see the flower fields and show him Tavan’s study. Maybe to meet Grandma. And sure, Grandma was scary, but she was still family. He hadn’t counted on Her Majesty The White Queen insisting, all wide-eyed innocence, that Edmund “simply mustcome to Marmoreal and meet the wholefamily.”

Which meant that Edmund was going to be subject to meeting the Queen of Underland on his very first trip there. And, yes, Queen Lilibeth was like an aunt to Tavan, but that didn’t change the fact that she was the very literal heart and soul of the land, and that was intimidating no matter how sweet and gentle she, of course, was.

The doorbell rang, and Tavan jumped to his feet, nearly knocking the chair over in his haste, and rushed to get the door. Edmund was, as always, a lovely sight, and his shy, sly little smile as he stepped over the threshold was as charming as ever. He was unfailingly polite to Lynn, and if Tavan didn’t know him, he would never have been able to tell that Edmund was actually quite eager to get on with things, he was so cordial and patient.

Still, he did know better. Quite a lot better, actually, so he gave his cousin an apologetic grin and said; “So sorry tae rush off, Lynn, but we’ve an appointment we just cannae be late for.” while dragging Edmund not too subtly towards the stairs. Edmund laughed, and Lynn waved them off with a roll of her eyes, calling after them that Lilibeth would never be so crass as to be impatient.

Which was true, but still, her disappointment if you caused her to considersomething as uncharitable as impatience could be crushing. “Lilibeth?” Edmund questioned as they made for the spare room.

“Ah…” Tavan grimaced. “The White Queen.”

Edmund flinched perceptibly, and Tavan faltered a little, concerned. “Sorry. Bad memories. Why is she the WhiteQueen?” He asked cautiously.

“Tha’d be because she’s the moral center o’ Underland. White for purity, open-mindedness, compassion.” Tavan replied thoughtfully, and then looked at Edmund again, checking on him, because his reaction had been unusual, to say the least.

Edmund was nodding, though, expression the same intense curiosity he always got about all things Underlandish. “Some cultures associate white with death and winter.” He pointed out.

Tavan laughed a little. “Well, don’t tell Lily that. Not that the Queen can be anything but hospitable tae any o’ the seasons, but I think she might do something un-queen-like if you suggested she was supposed tae represent winter. She loves her roses far too much for that.”

Edmund relaxed properly at that, and just in time, too, because they’d reached the mirror, and Tavan paused to take a bracing breath before stepping through. Lilibeth, of course, hadn’t listened to a single word of Tavan’s request for a modicum of privacy, and had invited what looked like half the court to come meet Tavan Hightopp’s beloved.

Exasperated, but not surprised, Tavan turned back and stuck his head and one arm through the mirror, holding out a hand in invitation. Edmund grinned as he took Tavan’s hand and allowed him to pull him gently through the mirror. But as he passed through the rippling surface, something strange happened. Edmund Pevensie stepped into the mirror, but the man who stepped out on the other side into the White Queen’s court was no London school boy.

Edmund was almost as tall as Tavan, now, with a touch of dark stubble over his jaw and a silver circlet gleaming in his dark hair. His clothes, too, were different. They looked like they belonged here, a fine tunic with a crest in the shape of a lion on his breast, and leather breeches tucked into high boots, and a sword on his hip that his other hand fell to perfectly naturally.

Tavan quite lost his breath at the sight of him.

Edmund’s breath caught a beat later, and he looked down at himself, even as his free hand left his sword to touch cautiously at the circlet – the crown, it was definitely a crown– on his head, and then ghost down over the corner of his jaw. And then he smiled, so beatifically that Tavan’s breath caught all over again, and he actually felt a little weak-kneed when Edmund turned that smile on him and offered him his arm. He took it, of course, and subtly guided Edmund over to where Lilibeth was rising to her feet. The crowd of familiar faces parted before them like they never would have if it had just been Tavan. Or if it had been Tavan and Edmund as he’d looked on the other side of the looking glass.

Lilibeth rose to the occasion magnificently, despite the confusion, and was all smiles as she greeted Edmund. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of a properintroduction.” She lilted curiously.

“Your Majesty.” Edmund greeted, inclining his head respectfully, but notably notbowing. “It seems I am, once again, King Edmund the Just, of Narnia.”

---

Benji loved it when Lucy came to stay at Pemberley. Somehow, she lit the place up, and made everything that was familiar to him new and exciting again. She ran barefoot through the woods and taunted him into going skinny-dipping in the lake with her and taught him new dances under the watchful gazes of his ancestor’s portraits in the gallery.

She never stayed for long. That wasn’t her way, and Benji didn’t mind. Sometimes, he went with her when she left, whether that was travelling to far-flung places to meet new people and learn new languages, or to meetings and charities and projects closer to home, watching her throw her considerable will against any and all problems she came across, but sometimes he didn’t. And they both liked it like that.

That, Benji thought, was the thing he loved best about Lucy. Loving her was never a trap, never a cage, never a duty. She was a wild thing and she would not be tamed, and in turn, never once tried to tame him, and never asked for more than he could give.

He got a little caught up in it, caught up in herand her way of life, riding the high of being known, so clearly and effortlessly, by someone who shared his feelings and values. Which is why it came as a complete shock to him when, on the first evening of Lucy’s third stay at Pemberley, when his father leaned forwards a little and said; “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Benji, what the hold up is.”

“With what?” Benji asked.

“The engagement, of course!” Father replied, and reality crashed back onto Benji with a feeling like being submerged in ice-water. At his elbow, Lucy went suddenly still. An alarming thing, given she was usually always so full of movement.

“What engagement?” Benji asked, half genuinely bewildered, although he had a creeping sense that his family had gotten the wrong idea, because they never had understood when he tried to explain what it was about the girls he stepped out with that put him off so badly every time, and half stalling for time.

“Benji, darling, please.” Mother said, fondly exasperated. “You haven’t exactly been subtle.”

“Don’t mistake us, we’re very happy you’ve found someone!” Father added. “But your mother is right, you’ve been very obvious about how much you like Miss Pevensie.” His lips pursed with something that was half way between amusement and disapproval. “A little tooobvious, sometimes. You’d better hurry up and make an honest woman out of her, or people will begin to gossip.”

“I beg your pardon,” Lucy said, before Benji could shake the feeling of a noose tightening around his neck and find the breath to speak for himself, “but I’m afraid you’ve all got rather the wrong idea.” She said it in her High Society Voice, which was a sure sign she was sharpening her metaphorical claws. “I’ve no intent to marry. At all. Ever.”

“You’re young yet, my dear.” Mother said, looking a little concerned. “I know marriage can seem intimidating. Lord knows you and Benji are very alike in that regard, but it’s a wonderful thing to find the right person to support you through life.” She shared a loving look with Father. “You shouldn’t let something like that, with someone who understands you, pass you by just because you’re nervous.”

Lucy closed her eyes for a moment. Benji suspected she was praying for patience. “I’m not letting anything pass me by.” She said sharply, a flash of fire in her eyes as she opened them again, the smile on her lips a challenge more than any sort of expression of happiness. “I appreciate having Benji in my life very much.”

Father chuckled, while Mother went a little pink at the rather salacious tone Lucy said the last two words in. Joan snorted, derisive, drawing everyone’s attention. It was a very unkind sound, and Benji startled, because he’d thought Joan and Lucy got on. They were of a similar age, and a similar temperament, and had had many a passionate argument about one subject or another, sparring with ideas in a way that Benji was entirely unsuited for. “He’s not the only person you’ve been appreciating, though, is he?” She asked pointedly.

The whole table went still. Benji’s other two sisters turned to stare at Lucy, suddenly resembling nothing so much as hyenas staring down prey. But Lucy couldn’t be preyif she tried, and met the sudden threatening stares with a complete lack of shame. In fact, her chin kicked up a little in stubborn, fierce pride. Benji almost smiled to see it, but the flicker of admiration was quickly dampened by the thick tension in the air. “Joan?” He asked carefully. “What’s this about?”

“You didn’t tell him?” She asked of Lucy. “You swore to me you would.”

Lucy raised her eyebrows, then smiled. “Benji?” She called, and Benji hummed an acknowledgement, wary of opening his mouth again lest he be talked over. Again. “Joan walked in on me kissing Viscount Cranbrook’s son at that wedding last weekend.”

Benji blinked, startled by that reminder and a little uncomfortable at having such things discussed at the dinner table, with all his family sitting nearby. Then, he began to realise why Joan was looking so very upset. Why everyonewas looking so very upset, actually. “Yes?” He said, deliberately playing obtuse. “You already told me about that.” He paused to smile faintly. “In vivid detail.”

Joan dropped her fork. Father choked on his wine.

“Benjamin Percival Fitzwilliam Darcy!” Mother snapped, putting her own wine glass down with a very inelegant thump. “Such things are notappropriate dinner conversation!”

Benji felt veryindignant about being scolded for something that wasn’t his fault. At all. “Why am Igetting scolded? Joanie’s the one who brought it up!” He paused, feeling a little guilty, because Joan had been trying to be a good sister, to protect him, even if she had been making assumptions., and it felt a little unfair to throw her under the bus after that. So before Mother could start scolding again, he turned to his sister. “Thanks for worrying about me, though, but it really is fine. Lucy did tell me what she was about. She always does.”

There was another one of those stunned silences. Benji was really getting tired of them, and this time he couldn’t even tell what had prompted it. “You mean she’s done this before?” Joan demanded, sounding more bewildered than scandalised, which at least cleared that up.

“Yes?” Benji offered, looking around the table. Everyone else looked significantly more scandalised, and a bit insulted, whether that was on his behalf or the family’s, he couldn’t tell, and it made him feel a stranger in his own home all of a sudden. “Why are you all so damn surprised?” He blurted out. “I told youhow trapped it all makes me feel, with girls who are all thinking of marriageand one and onlyand forever. I can’t even tell what I my favourite foodis going to be on any given day, never mind who my favourite personis going to end up being next year, or the year after that!”

Joan was the only one who had the decency to look a little shame-faced. The others just looked vaguely appalled.

Except Lucy, of course. Who washis favourite person, and might even stay that way for the rest of his life. But still, the idea of trapping her in that role, of binding her to him and him to her in any way more than a simple question asked every day they happened to be together – ‘do you want?’ with no demand upon the answer being yes – was abhorrent.

Lucy just giggled, and reached out to lace their fingers together. “Why not everyperson?” She suggested cheerfully.

“I haven’t met every person.” Benji pointed out as solemnly as he was able, with his lips persistently trying to twitch up into a smile.

“Yet.” Lucy countered brightly. “And on that subject!” She declared enthusiastically, banishing the weight of the previous conversation and his family’s judgement as easily as a spring breeze scattering morning mists. “I was thinking about going to help the relief efforts in Morocco, and I thought you might like to come this time?”

#Chronicles of Narnia #pevensie siblings #crossovers #Peter Pan #Alice in Wonderland #Pride and Prejudice #Peter Pevensie #Jane Darling #Susan Pevensie #Edmund Pevensie #Lucy Pevensie #Next Gen OCs #Queer Pevensies #Demi!Peter #Bi!Susan #Gay!Edmund #Poly!Lucy

45 notes · View notes

mallowstep · 3 years

Note

For the love of god, please consider renaming some cats, I've seen names like

"One-Eye, Halftail, Oddfoot, FLIPCLAW (what kind of prefix is 'Flip'?) Twigbranch, Clawface etc. Don't get me started on those atrocious SkyClan names with KITTYPET PREFIXES

Harrybrook, Snookthorn, Rileypool

Like tf?

so i'm going to start with saying! as a general rule, i love these names. i will address them each in turn, but i don't have a problem with warriors having "bad names," i have a problem with names that don't make sense given their context.

it does not make sense for blackfoot to be named blackkit, when he's mostly white. (and, as a colorpoint cat, i assume, would be born entirely white.) etc.

but i have no problem with bellaleaf, because well, yeah! makes sense to me.

after all, leaf was named leafdapple, why shouldn't bella be named bellaleaf.

i'm going to discuss each name you brought up in turn, and then, under the cut, i'm going to ramble about naming philosphies.

one-eye: i'm fine with this. i don't mind cats being named after their disabilities, not when it's an established part of warriors culture. (even if it doesn't happen anymore because people would be pissed about it.) i don't know if i think it's right, or if i think cats would have a problem with it, but i think it's good. i'd like to think most cats wouldn't have a problem with it, though. that said, for one-eye in particular, her name was already white-eye, so it feels redundant. food for thought, i suppose.

halftail: i'm not okay with this, because he lost...half his tail? trust me, as someone who had a cat with half a tail, you don't notice it. doesn't make sense. he can keep sparrowpelt, altho tbh i almost always forget about him.

oddfoot: oops i forget him initially! i actually assumed he was named odd because of numbers or something, but apparently it’s a deadfoot situation. we don’t know his kit name, so i’ll assume he was named as either an apprentice or a warrior to fit. it wouldn’t make sense for him to just have the prefix odd, and i’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he didn’t. if he did, however, i would have a problem with it because that makes his name a compound name, not because his leader renamed him.

flipclaw: i don't have a problem with it. what kind of name is flipkit? the kind of name a mother would give who looks a lot like the cat who traumatized her, i think. more importantly, i think it's cute! doesn't bother me. would i name an oc flipkit? probably not, but that's just me.

twigbranch: oh no i love her name. i love it! it's so cute. it means something, too! it has meaning. nope. no one is taking twigbranch away from me. i love it.

clawface: mixed. i don't really have a problem with a cat being named clawkit, but it feels...violent. shrug. i don't like it, but like, i also don't like sandynose.

and i won't directly address skyclan because uh i already stated my thoughts on them.

skyclan in particular, tho, it actually makes a lot of sense for their names to be like that. there is no reason to apply any clan norms to skyclan names.

i really hope they keep their names, too. tradition and legacy of names is important to them (pebbleshine and violetshine for the most direct example, but it's everywhere), and i want that to stay. i love that leafstar named her kit harrykit. never change skyclan.

as always, i want to say that i do not have a problem with anyone's methodology of naming cats. i do not care. i support every single name in existence (barring certain combinations of color and "-face," and anything in that vein), and i do not want to come across as telling you what you should do.

that includes you, anon! i do not think you should listen to me when i say i like these names. i think you should rename them whatever you want. (i strongly suggest reconsidering skyclan renames, tho. there's established reasons in canon for them to have those names, and i think it's a cool cultural thing worth exploring. i keep meaning to write a funny lil one-shot about it.)

but you know! if you want to rename them, go for it! i support you!

that said, here is what i think (and i am not an authority on this in any way, shape, or form) about names:

i've written extensively about naming traditions in the clans. if you want to read that, "names. leaders. meaning" and "names part two" are where i recommend you look. (note: first link is to my main, before i migrated warriors content here.)

i'm not going to go over any of that in detail, because well, i'd rather talk about something new?

anyway, i don't think there's a reason to rename the vast majority of cats. i have very, very, few rules. heck, in ashes, i even had squilf come out and say that there's not even a problem with cats sharing a prefix.

the two cats i have renamed are yellowstorm and runningcloud, both for very specific reasons: -fang is a suffix that only makes sense if you're a warrior, and yellowfang names runningpaw runningnose, but in this au, sagewhisker names him, and she doesn't seem like the type to give that kind of name.

in yellowfang's secret, which i do generally treat as canon, yellowfang explains runningnose's name. i don't have a problem with her giving that name to him in the slightest. i just don't think sagewhisker would, and that overrode my general conservative approach to cat names.

but i do think, to an extent, cats are named for the world around them. i explored this in "without warning," where cats can be named after all sorts of strange things (elevator is my favourite), because well, they don't know what strange names are and are not.

so, for example, if there was a kit named, say, chaffinchkit, i would probably rename them, because i've set my warriors in the pnw, and there are no chaffinches in america.

i would just name the kit finchkit, because really, a chaffinch just a specific type of finch anyway.

i also refuse to name a kit maggotkit. there are probably other canonical prefixes in this nature that i refuse, but maggot is the big one that comes to mind.

but i don't care that ferns are green and cats aren't green. maybe it's a name passed down through the generations, one they don't even remember the origin of, but now, it is a thunderclan name.

or maybe, it is given to a riverclan cat simply because their mother thinks ferns are nice and soft.

none of that matters to me, because i personally find limiting name to appearance is incredibly boring, and gives up a really nice chance to worldbuild.

in "fair is the night," ivypool and tigerheart have a brief conversation exploring this.

"ThunderClan is different," he says. "You don't use names in the same way. You don't know the Ivy before you. But ShadowClan isn't like that. Dawnpelt knows Dawncloud and Flametail knows Flamefur, but...I have Tigerstar." "That seems ineffective," Ivypool says. "You can get more mileage out of your names. Here, Ivy is for grey kits, right? But wiry ones. We need strong roots. And Dove is for grey kits, or white ones, but its for the ones who are born soft."

they go on, but i would never pass up an opportunity to explore that type of thing. (and yes i see the typo)

similarly, i like the renaming system. i am like, this close to saying i love it.

the only reason i don't make brightheart lostface in everything i write is because it'd be too much of a headache to remind people, and i also don't want to needlessly invite arguments about it.

she keeps her name in "saccharine tithes of love and glory" because it's the kind of au where i can throw small things like that, without worrying, because it fits, tonally.

i wish it didn't set a fic in a very specific tone, but it does, and so, i usually use brightheart.

(also, it's clear that she prefers brightheart in the books, and i respect that. i don't think, in my culture, that makes sense for her, but i've talked about my works as being on a spectrum between canon and me, and most stuff is far enough away from me that i call her brightheart.)

anyway.

part of it is, renaming cats is imposing my rules over canon. i feel that saying "flipclaw should be named something else" asserts that my world is correct, and canon is wrong.

like, tallstar as a name does not make sense in my windclan. a kit can't be tall, and i've established that windclan names are very literal. but i've let it go, because i chose to make that a rule, and now i live with it.

i hope i didn't come off as prescriptivist, here, because i honestly believe if you want to rename cats, you should. i'd even be happy to discuss alternatives.

for clawface, might i suggest scorchface? (the suffix is malleable, frankly, but i don't feel like thinking much about it.) scorch deliberately has negative connotations in shadowclan, so you keep the same effect as clawface. especially since it just kind of sounds ominous.

but as for what i will do, it is not rename cats. i like their names (especially skyclan's), in all their idiosyncratic glory.

#ask #anon #long #essay #names #warriors names #traditional naming #name discourse #kind of?#mine #txt #warriors #warriors culture #warriors worldbuilding #4th #June #2021 #June 4th 2021

18 notes · View notes