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midgardsbest · 3 years

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Imagine: You feel a bit off today and the argument with your boyfriend Loki doesn’t make things better. What happens when a Steve who doesn’t understand British slang and an overprotective father ruin your sweet plan to get him back?

N/A: Hello dearests, enjoy this new Loki x reader imagine and tell me what are your impressions about it. If you wanna. If you don’t then DEATH. TO ALL OF THEM. Jk. Hope y’all got that reference. 🤟

Warnings: BestFriend!Natasha, Thor is lovely as usual, Dad!TonyStark, Boyfriend!Loki, Language, Fluff, Angst and more fluff, a bit of passion, and British reader/use of British slang (pretty easy and self-explanatory)

Words: 1953

Waking up that morning was tremendously hard. You stumbled against any piece of furniture installed inside of your room by your father, Tony Stark. Well, he was your stepfather, technically, but you weren’t particularly fond of the use of that word.

Yawning your way into the kitchen of the compound, you avoided meeting eyes with Steve. He had been more stressed than usual in the last few days, probably given the upcoming mission. He lashed out at you the day before, or at least that's what you thought was happening.

"I think a cuppa would serve you right."

"A what?"

You looked at him as if he were stupid, but you knew it couldn't be that. "A cuppa? It's.. a cup of tea. You don't know that?" Given his expression, either he was a bit dumb or was just done with you for that day. "No. I like coffee. But thank you."

You weren't mad at him, of course. Nonetheless, ignoring him for a bit did sound like a better idea than trying to cheer him up with your British manners, if you could say. He did not look happy about that.

Staring at the emptiness of your black coffee (and almost gagging at the rough taste), you swallowed the smothering ache in your heart. What was it you were yearning for?

You couldn't place in your mind the exact reason behind this suffering, but you soon grew tired of it. With a pair of eyes following your figure left unnoticed, you dragged yourself up to your room to somehow get ready.

"What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know man. Shouldn't you be locked up in your room like Stark- and he's gone. Thanks for the chat, popsicle."

This was boring, wasn't it? It was raining outside. Perhaps if you were in a rom-com you'd be soaked wet, lightheartedly dancing with a cover of dreamy clouds in the sky, glancing at your boyfriend from time to time, pretending you didn't see his "this is the woman I'll marry" eyes consuming you entirely. However, you weren't the protagonist of a rom-com, much less of a poorly written fan fiction. Additionally, your dear boyfriend wasn't officially... well, your boyfriend, and he'd been ignoring you completely. Which hurt, but your pride defeated your consciousness and you didn't want to talk to him about it.

Then, an idea took place in your mind. You had an opportunity to get back your not-much-of-a-boyfriend, the Captain's shy smile and your fun. Some might say even something more along the way.

"I AM DONE. COMPLETELY, UTTERLY DONE."

You slammed the door of Natasha's office, ignoring the frightening look she gave you and pointed to the chair right in front of you with questioning eyes.

"You slammed my door shut, might as well."

Your eyes dropped unnoticeably. Someone would have noticed though, only he wasn't there.

"I gotta do something. Would you help me with it?."

"What would I help you with, exactly? Y/N, if this is one of your unsettled plans..." She leaned back on the chair, tapping the desk with her bare fingernails.

"No! You can trust me on this, Nat. Please do. I'll buy you some nail polish."

"What?"

"WHAT?" Tony on the verge of an anxiety attack wasn't exactly how you thought this plan would go, even though him finding out was not part of it as well.

"Boss, your heart rate is increasing critically."

"Vacation's over. FRIDAY, let's go back to the compound."

You could hear their voices on the other end of the line.

You still didn't utter a word, already having made the mistake of asking your dad when he was bound to return from his "job thing" in Rome. You shouldn’t have said that, because "you never care about it", so it was either a party you were planning or a date. Besides, you might've mentioned the mission that you later remembered, you weren’t supposed to know about.

Your leg was trembling now, having realized the crap mistake you made. "Well shit."

"Y/N!"

"Oh, forgot you were still on. Love you, Dad, bye."

Natasha gawked at you, shaking her head slightly, arms crossed in front of her. This plan was a massive mistake. But it was your plan and you wouldn’t give up on it.

Around noon, Stark made his entry into the structure and went straight to your room, knocking on the door half a time and anchoring his feet to the ground with every step. Hiding your uneven breath, and thanking Nat for her wise advice ("just play sick", she said), you raised the sheets over your painted red nose.

Your dad searched for you in your cosy bedroom, just to find your teary innocent eyes full of greed for success. Maybe you did have a fever.

"Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me you were sick? I thought you were gonna run off to a party or something you kids do."

You shifted under the covers. Shit. That was the plan after all. You were going to coerce Steve into partying with you somewhere you knew Loki would find you, like perhaps that club just around the corner where he wore that leather jacket once. Big story. Regardless, it didn't mean much now that he just vanished from your life.

"I wouldn't have gone anywhere."

An aching cough caught your breath. You tried to keep your eyebrows from furrowing at the actual symptom. You never got sick. Not really, at least.

Tony's eyes were clouded with worry, not liking the sight of you in pain.

"This is what we'll do, kid. You get some rest and I'll have Steve make you some tea."

You sniggered: "Just don't call it a cuppa."

As soon as he left the room, Natasha came out of the bathroom. Your eyes felt heavy, but your mind was still somewhere else.

"You'd make a great actress, has anyone told you that?" she grinned. You liked Nat, especially when you knew she was comfortable enough to enjoy spending time with you. She was your first real friend here at the compound. Your father would keep you hidden here when you were younger, and even though he tried his best to never make you feel like you were alone, he wasn't around much, and always left you with Pepper or Happy, who you now knew as your mother and uncle.

You coughed once again, this time harder, and brought a hand on your chest.

Nat stared at you for a little while.

"You're ill."

"Yeah. And the sun's coming out. This day just couldn't get worse. Did I just manifest getting sick?"

When she stood up from the little chair that was at the side of your bed, she gave you a comforting smile, and then she left, leaving you in Morpheus' arms to fall asleep.

"Do you think perhaps it is best to wake her?"

"Don't be foolish, brother. She is much better like this."

"You mean she's comfortable?"

"I mean she's bearable."

"Ughh."

"Perfect! Lady Y/N, you seem to have awakened."

You looked at the Norse brothers standing at the feet of your bed, still feeling dizzy from your remarkable nap. You hadn't slept this good in a while.

"Thor. Yes. Woken u-uh..p." You stood up. You looked at them. You glanced at them once again.

"OH MY GOD." You quickly covered your face with your hands. Gods, Loki was in your room. He wasn't looking at you, but he was in your room. You could feel his coldness reaching up to your veins - and heart, not only making you feel sick in your stomach but also causing a complementary shameful headache.

"Is uhm... something wrong, Y/N?" Thor's warm voice grounded you slightly but never enough.

With a shallow breath, you released your hands, dropping them along with your head. Looking at the silk white sheets, you wondered if strangling yourself with them would solve anything.

"No, thank you, Thor. Could you just give me a minute to uhm... I need to uh... powder my nose."

He smiled. "Ah yes of course. We'll be in the kitchen."

Your breath hitched. You had to do something.

"Wait!" They altered their steps, this time you looked directly into Loki's ice-blue eyes. "Gotta speak. I mean- I- 'd like to speak to Loki. For a minute. If possible."

Thor adjusted the weight on his feet and then nodded, sizing the room with his comfortable aura.

The instant he left, that same energy vanished, leaving you and that subjugating man to war. A conflict formed of rivalry, an uneasy sense of fear for all that was yet to be said and a deep, desperate need for each other in all ways known to your kind.

You soon grew tired of the dreadful silence. "Are you gonna say anything or shall I speak first?"

"Speak." He kept on staring at the window.

You debated if getting out of the bed would be better for this argument.

"Don't. And there will be no such thing as an argument. I'm not going to force your decision."

You blinked at him. What? Did the ice get to his head?

"Pardon? What decision? And who gave you permission to read my mind, Loki? You left me. Alone. You didn't speak to me for a week. Like... out of nowhere. Just like that- What. Decision." You did get out of bed, now showing your white lace robe to him. If he were looking at you, you'd have felt naked under his gaze.

He kept silent for a while and you did not once stop beholding him.

"I thought you wished not to see me again." He finally witnessed you, completely, entirely, just like you knew he would. Just the way you longed for.

"Why? When did you ever get that impression from me? If I did something wrong please tell me but don't just... don't go away from me."

He attentively took a few steps closer to you. It looked menacing but you knew he was just calculating your next move. He was the prey. But it was you who kept still.

"The bar." The bar?

"What bar?"

"Last week, you brought me to a place. I wore a leather jacket."

Your eyes instantly watered a bit.

"Loki..."

"No. My actions were unnecessary and I shouldn't have- I-."

You broke, fully. You gave in to your heart and hurried to him, still too far across the room. You wrapped your trembling hands around him and almost fell whilst doing so. But he held you mightily, adapting to your action like a lock when it finds its key.

"Lokes... why'd you think that?" You tucked your face in his green and golden armour. "I lo- I know you didn't mean that. You didn't do anything wrong. Please. Is that why you weren't speaking to me anymore?"

Glancing up at him, your gazes met, lost in each other like you could both find your way home. "Yes."

You smiled softly. "Don't do that again. Just talk to me next time."

"There won't be a next time". At that, you frowned. Would he never go out with you again?

"What d'you mean?"

He caressed your cheek, hidden emotions revealed by the trembling of the movement.

"I'll do my best to not do you wrong ever again. It is a promise I'll keep as close to my heart as a dagger."

You giggled dreamily. "Please don't put a knife to your heart."

He moved you closer to his touch. "I won't. But if I do it'll be you who holds the handle."

"You cheeky bastard." And to that, he kissed you ardently, air unneeded for your lungs to work.

N/A: Any idea on what might’ve happened at the club? Also… Loki in a leather jacket.

#loki friggason #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki fandom #marvel imagine #mcu x reader #marvel #marvel movies #thor the dark world #thor odinson #tony stark #natasha romanoff

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idiotic-genius · 3 years

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How to write a foreign character in a new country

Requested by @ii-maysqq

So when you write a story, some of your characters might travel the world and see new places. That can be really scary and confusing at times! Here’s a small guide on how to write that realistically.

1. What does the character already know about the country?

Depending on how spontaneously they decided to get there, they might know very little about the culture and rules of the country. For example, what if you came to Greece without knowing that nodding your head up meant “no” instead of “yes” (which would be nodding your head down)? So that’s something you should think about first. Did the character do research before their travel? Did they just google it on the plane or did they spend at least a month planning? This could greatly affect how confident the character is in themselves when they arrive. That planning also has to do with the character’s personality, whether or not their quickly anxious and how spontaneous and confident they are in general.

2. How different is the new country from their own country?

There’s a big difference between going from the Netherlands to Germany and going from Russia to Japan. Your character might experience something called a “culture shock”, which means that they start feeling absolutely out of place because they don’t feel incorporated in the new culture they’ve got thrown into. For this, you should try to research the different cultures of the character’s original country and the one they are visiting. Sometimes, there’s also the possibility that the different countries are quite similar. That can be used for funny situations where the character thinks everything’s fine and familiar and then something happens that throws them of. What about for example England and America? They aren’t so different in many ways, but one big thing that pops into mind is that in England you drive on the left side of the road, and in America they drive on the right. Imagine stepping out of the airport, thinking to yourself “Yass welcome to America!” and then almost getting run over by a car because you looked the wrong side of the road- That can be quite shocking. But the character might also find comfort in the small things that remind them of their original country. You could also try to find out how the currencies are in the two countries- will the character have to adapt to a new system? Do they have to go to the bank to exchange currencies? Will they need time to get used to paying “2 dollars” instead of “17,85 Dirham”, or is the currency the same after all? That’s an important thing to take into consideration.

3. Languages

Of course, language is a very important part of traveling and living in a new country. In most countries, people can speak English and that’s really practical, but on longterm, not knowing the language of a country you want to live in evolves into a grave problem. And even if your character already knows the language, modern slang could be a real struggle. Textbook-Vocabulary might be enough for work and studying, but in daily life, not knowing what certain words mean can get so very annoying. Another thing to consider when including struggles with language could be accents and dialects. As an example, people from the north of Germany and people from the South can barely understand each other because of their different dialects, so even if someone knows German, they might have to learn even more just to live in a certain area of the country. Also, obviously British English and American English are not the same at all. On one side, there’s the accent, on the other, some words are completely different. In school, we used to do exercises that were like vocabulary tests where you had to “translate” words from British to American English, which included “cab” and “taxi”, “holiday” and “vacation” and so on and so forth. The point is, even if your character already speaks the “right” language, locals will probably notice rather quickly that they are not from around, whether it would be from their accent, because they don’t know the slang or because they use different words for the same thing.

4. People and structures

This point is a little abstract, but I wanted to include it anyways. Depending on how far away the character is traveling, they will probably encounter people that behave very differently than what they are used to. Here, you should look out that you don’t overdo stereotypes. However, you can say with quite some certainty that America is much more diverse than Germany, and that in France, the people are more warm and matey than in England. But don’t go into the extremes and make every American a bald-eagle-breeder that quotes the Declaration of Independence at every possible occasion and every German a beer-loving N*zi, that’s just unrealistic. With “structures”, I mean that you could look into the classical architectural styles of the country that the character came from and the one they’re in now. Sometimes, those can be very different, so it can be a cool detail to include in your story.

5. Reactions

As mentioned, when you’re new to a country, people WILL notice. The question is, how do they react? This also has to do with where exactly your character is living, not only country-wise, but also whether they’re in a big city, a suburban neighborhood or the countryside. Furthermore, of course you’ll have to find fitting reactions for your character. Are they intimidated by the big buildings of the city because they’ve only known small two-level-builds so far? Are they excited to get to know new people and learn a new language, or are they scared? You should consider that and more to make that part of your story as realistic as possible.

6. Example

As originally requested, here’s some inspiration for writing a british character coming to America for work/study.

They’ll probably be very much confused by what side of the road the cars drive on, and, depending on whether they have a car, will have to concentrate a great deal the first few times they drive themselves. They will have to adapt to the American English and try to stop saying “chips” instead of “fries” when ordering, and it their accent could make them insecure at times, especially if they’re surrounded by locals. Furthermore, they would have to participate in Thanksgiving and the Independence Day because all of their new acquaintances will. Halloween may not be a much bigger deal in America than it is in England (because it’s a really important thing there), but the Christmas traditions can differ greatly. The character would have to deal with the fact that they pay in dollars now instead of pounds, and would have to arrange themselves with the knowledge that one of their favorite snacks doesn’t exist in America.

#writing #character #character inspiration #writing prompts #writing tips #prompts #inspiration #writing inspiration #inspo #writing inspo #how to write #writing help #character help #how to

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ghoulciifer · 4 years

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hihi, i’m glad i found you! your writing is hella cute! 🥺💞 hcs for class 1a having an english exchange student and how bakugou reacts to his usually well-mannered and laid back crush having a bad day and completely flying off the handle? like she just starts swearing like a sailor using some very british insults? she might even offer to teach bakugou english swears after she calms down a little 🥴 i’ve just been feeling that bakugou energy recently and i’m this close to committing arson 🤏😌✨

hc: Bakugou reacts to his crush, who was class 1-A’s english exchange student back in the day, blowing a fuse.

tw: swearing

tags: british!reader, fluff, reader is fed UP

notes: hi anon, thank you so much!! it makes me happy to hear that you enjoy my content 😭 this request was super cute but unfortunately i don’t write bnha characters in school settings, even if it’s sfw, just to avoid unnecessary backlash. so i hope you don’t mind me switching the setting a bit. also pls keep in mind that i am VERY american and had to do some research for this so i’m terribly sorry if i got anything wrong lol but i hope you enjoy, regardless! ty for the request, and my inbox is still open ❥

» being class 1-A’s foreign exchange student had a lot of perks when you first joined UA, tbh

» literally EVERYONE wanted to be your friend and know what it was like where you were from, plus everyone thought the way you spoke japanese was adorable bc your accent would slip every now and then

» it might’ve been a little overwhelming at first but you can’t help but be glad things happened the way they did, because these guys stuck with you well past graduation and were part of the reason why you decided to stay in japan

» they were the best group of friends you could ask for and they can definitely say the same thing about your sweet self

» ESPECIALLY one particular hot-head, mr. king explosion murder himself

» he’s been clinging to your side ever since your 2nd year at UA (because he was too busy sweating bullets over how cute you were during the 1st to approach you)

» but now neither of you can imagine life without the other, you’re a key member to the bakusquad bc your soft personality really helps tone down their chaotic nature

» also bc bakugou is madly in love with you but you don’t know that yet literally everyone in the bakusquad knows but you LOL

» you’re just so sweet!! you’re the nicest, most kind person he’s ever met (whole squad thinks that way too)

» so it’s no surprise that everyone is FLOORED when you start spitting insults and throwing a fit in a language they can’t fully understand

» today was just not your day. you dealt with a particularly annoying villain that morning, forgot your lunch at home and didn’t have time to go get something to eat, and by the time you actually had a second to breathe you were greeted with a mountain of paperwork on your desk

» needless to say, you were stressed and not having a good time

» paperwork ended up taking the entire rest of your evening and by the time you finished you almost forgot you had to meet with the bakusquad for dinner at mina’s

» you almost considered cancelling, the idea of slamming your face into your pillow and passing out for the next 5 years sounded much more inticing

» but you sucked it up and went out anyway - maybe your friends could help pull you out of your funk

» mina greeted you excitedly when you got to her apartment before ushering you inside where kaminari, sero, kirishima and bakugou were already waiting

» you might’ve been trying to look happy but they could definitely tell something was wrong - they all knew you too well

» everyone gave their own special “hello” as you walked in but, bakugou being the emotionally stunted asshole he is, did the only thing he knows how to do when you come around

» insult you to show his affection

» “It’s about fuckin’ time, Y/N, we’ve all been starving waiting on you.”

» oh boy

» your face IMMEDIATELY dropped and your body was practically vibrating with how tense you were, brows furrowing as your eyes zoned in on the blonde lazily stretched out across mina’s couch

» he knew he fucked up when you took a slow inhale before biting right back at him

» “You must be so incredibly daft to think that my time caters to a bloody prick like you, Katsuki!”

» but you didn’t stop there: the blood boiling in your veins made all the thoughts you’ve been suppressing spill out of your mouth, while everyone just stares at you wide eyed and jaws dropped

» your accent was thick and they could hardly understand what you were saying as you slipped back and forth between your own british slang and japanese

» eventually you calmed down and caught your breath before you registered everyone’s shocked expressions, bakugou’s being the most expressive bc he was on the receiving end of your little show

» your eyes went wide and you frantically apologized to him (and everyone else), explaining the day you’ve had and how you just couldn’t hold it in anymore

» kaminari was the first to break the silence that followed

» “Wow, of all the years I’ve know you, Y/N, I’ve never heard you talk like that... GOOD JOB!!!”

» him and sero begin laughing and patting you on the back, sending mina into a fit of laughter while kirishima tries poking a red-faced bakugou to see if he’s still alive

» eventually he nods but he cannot take his eyes off of you, for the first time since knowing you he’s seen your angry side... and he fuckin’ loves it

» he accepts your apology after you break away from the two idiots congratulating you and says it’s no big deal (wants to tell you he thought it was kinda hot but definitely kept that to himself)

» now that you’ve gotten everything off your chest, you’re free to enjoy the rest of the night with your friends - eating, drinking, making jokes about how you’re kinda scary when you’re angry

» bakugou pulls you aside at one point while everyone else is busy debating on who would win in an arm wrestling competition to ask you if you’re okay privately

» you’re embarrassed but you assure him you’re fine, today was just an off day, and you shouldn’t have taken it out on him

» he laughs and gives that dumb little smirk that makes your heart go doki doki before nudging you with his elbow

» “Relax, dumbass, it was entertaining... You should teach me some of those words you used, sometime.”

» and so you shall 😌

#i’m lowkey not happy w this but i had to get it done #pls dont hate me #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou headcanons #hofortendou hc’s #bnha headcanons

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silvanable · 3 years

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@sweettangy

Hi!! I hope you don’t mind me requesting! ^^ I’m using the submission box because my ask is super long >< But anyways, I was wondering if you could write IkeVamp headcanons for this scenario:

So basically, Reader has this ex best friend who betrayed her by becoming friends with her bully, and the IkeVamp suitors are already aware of this and Reader’s ill feelings towards Ex Bestie. So, a few months later, Reader and the suitors are at a ball/party hanging out and out of nowhere, Ex Bestie just swoops in pretending like nothing happened, and just decides to get on Reader’s good side again by telling her that she looks really pretty tonight. But Reader, having none of her ex bestie’s BS, comes up with a badass comeback by saying, “Thanks! Can’t say the same about you though,” with a face of pure contempt before walking away like a Queen.

I was wondering, how would the Ikevamp suitors react to this? If all of them is too much, I would like it if you wrote for Napoleon, Vincent, Theo, Arthur, and Dazai!

Sorry for the long read! ^^’ Thank you so much! 🥰

aaaahhh! it’s so nice to see you back in my inbox again, darling! and this time with an ikevamp request~

i absolutely love the idea! as someone who has struggled with friendships and ended up on the sour end of it, this is something i not only understand but can get behind.

i’m always down for a badass reader putting her best, savage, sassy foot forward.

can i saw how overly happy being able to use british slang on arthur’s part made me? i was too giddy, but every time he says something like that in game i just lose it.

↪ GUIDELINES

ー ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

arthur always knew his s/o was one sassy, snarky little thing but he had never expected her to leave no survivors.

he had known about her past relationships, one in particular, that had ended rather bitterly and left her just as bitter about it.

it was something that he grasps quickly and noted how especially hurt his s/o was because of it.

he knew how hard it was to open up to someone and be so fragile, hoping against the worst they would not break you, and yet his s/o’s best friend had done that.

He had never seen her ex-best friend before, so when a young dame saunters up to his beloved he can only assume they know each other.

it was easy for him to catch the tension in his s/o body though, the moment she turned to see who had called out to her.

Still, she forces and smile and greets the other woman with a familiar name.

it strikes arthur then. he knows exactly who this is now, an old acquaintance of his s/o.

he was ready to step in immediately, to pull you from the uncomfortable situation but just as he placed a hand on her shoulder it happened—

“it’s been so long! look at you, you are absolutely stunning tonight!” her ex-friend greeted.

“aw, thanks! can’t say the same about you though,” his s/o shot back, the semblance of a sneer before she turned on her heel.

arthur hardly had a moment to react as she grabbed his hand and walked off, a growing smirk on his beloved’s lips.

“by jove, love,” is about all he can get out as he looks between her and the other woman who grows smaller as he’s dragged through the crowd.

it’s not often that arthur is taken by surprise, especially because he is very keen to things, but for once his little darling has managed to surprise him.

and as he’s being dragged away, his hand in hers, laughter starts to bubble out of him.

it’s only then when his s/o stops to look back at him curiously and ask what has gotten into him.

ー DAZAI OSAMU

the two of them had decided to take a date to enjoy the festival and fun that was being offered in the streets of paris this evening.

dazai had been enjoying his time, with his s/o, as they wandered between vendors and marveled at spectacles on display.

then suddenly his s/o was tugging gently on his sleeve, requesting that they take a break somewhere out and away from the crowds.

dazai was not one to refuse but it seemed something had startled his s/o and before he had the chance to ask, another voice cut him off.

a masculine voice calls out his s/o name and she goes stiff as the owner appears from the crowd.

he seemed to pay no mind to dazai, who happened to be standing right there, as his s/o clung to his arm.

“i haven’t seen you in so long, but it’s good to see you!” the newcomer greeted, “looks like you got especially dolled up for the festival too, huh? you look great.”

dazai is normally pretty laid back and some would dare say air-headed but he realized what was going on now and who this was. his s/o ex best friend.

he was ready to shoo this man away, especially because he could feel his s/o’s nails digging into his arm through his kimono sleeve.

but before he had the chance, she let go, stepping up to face the man before them.

she suddenly wore a disarming smile as as she greeted the man, “yeah i’m out on a date. and thanks!— but hate to say i can’t say the same about you though.”

the unbridled look of contempt that crossed her face and the flash of anger in her eyes was dangerous.

but dazai only found it that much more amusing as he watched his feisty s/o turn with a small ‘hmph’, taking his hand, and saunter away.

the entire display only brought a smile to dazai’s lips as the two strolled down the street.

“that’s my toshiko-san,” he laughed.

ー NAPOLEON BONAPARTE

napoleon is a gentleman and especially so when it comes to his s/o.

so when she opens up to him about a troubling friendship in her past, where her closest confidant betrayed her, it was simple to say that he did feel some anger.

but he assured her that he would never do the same, he was here to protect her after all.

then came the night of a pleasant little party. as being apart of comte’s house had earned her an invitation to a party by some esteemed nobles.

obviously she would not go alone and brought napoleon with her.

the evening start out nice and things were pleasant, though throughout it all napoleon had noticed how uneasy his s/o seemed.

the cause of her uneasy was only made apparent when an unfamiliar woman approached them both.

she greeted his s/o by name, “i haven’t seen you in forever! and that dress? you look fantastic.”

there was a pause as the other woman smiled at his s/o, who looked rather pensive, daresay even angry.

but whatever flicker of hatred napoleon had seen melted away quick as she smiled and said the woman’s name.

it clicked from there as napoleon’s jade eyes fixed on the woman carefully.

while he would never dare strike against a woman, he knew the history between her and his s/o, and such cruelty should not be met with kindness.

“i know, it’s been so long. and thanks! wish i could say the same about you though,” sudden her smile took on a sharp edge.

napoleon heard his name called and his attention focused on his s/o as she grabbed his hand.

“nice seeing you though,” her words were laced with venom as she pulled him away.

he was stunned into silence as he followed after his s/o, the event replaying in his mind.

he knew that she was a formidable woman, but she had such a sweet and kind heart that… to see such a lioness rear up had surprised him.

ー THEODORUS VAN GOGH

when theo and his s/o had grown close, she had eventually opened up to him about a betrayal in her past.

theo, at the time, had jokingly asked if that meant she had wanted revenge because her once-best friend had done her wrong.

at the time, she seemed like she had wanted to say yes, to be able to rub her friend’s face in the dirt for causing her so much pain.

but she said no, that she would not stoop so low to be just like him.

it only made theo adore her more because of that.

today was the day of an art venue, one theo had put together himself, and of course with the help of his s/o.

it was rather grand, many people had come to see paintings were on display and to meet the artists who created them.

and for the duration of the evening, things had gone smoothly, until his s/o had come up to him, standing unusually close to his side.

when he had tried to ask her about it, she simply brushed it off as nothing and that she wanted to be around him.

it continued on like that until an unfamiliar voice called out her name.

theo swore in that moment she looked like a scared little hare, ready to bolt at any given moment.

then from the crowd of viewers a man had stepped, waving her over with a smile as he greeted her.

“i can’t believe it’s you. i thought i saw you earlier but i thought i was mistaken. i didn’t know you would be here.”

theo was ready to step in between his s/o and this stranger immediately, as he was but a stranger.

besides, his s/o seemed scared and theo was protective of her.

she grabbed his arm and stopped him, instead stepping between him and the stranger as she said a name.

that’s when theo realized this was no stranger but it was someone worse.

“i helped put this venue together,” she responded simply, unbelievably sweet too.

“that’s amazing, i never knew you were into art. you look great by the way, you’ve gotten prettier!”

theo could tell know that the smile she wore was fake, forced on her lips and was a sign of something lethal.

“oh, i got into it. aww thanks! shame i can’t say the same about you though,” she shot back, tongue firing like a weapon.

and oh, if looks could kill. the absolutely look of contempt on her face as she gazed at her once-friend… theo wondered if she had picked that up from him.

“if you’ll excuse us, we have work to do,” and with that, she turned, grabbed theo’s hand, and pulled them away.

“hondje—” but she cut him off with a shush, holding her head high for a moment more before a giddy laugh escaped her lips.

ー VINCENT VAN GOGH

vincent is the person who strives to see the best in everyone. after all, he considered an angel for a reason.

he had accompanied his s/o and comte to a grand ball being held in town, only because his s/o had seemed so excited and begged him to go.

the number of people and a party in itself was not quite vincent’s usual element but he enjoyed it nonetheless.

and his s/o other seemed to be having a grand time too, so he was happy.

but as the night progressed he noticed that his s/o began to enjoy the party less and stayed closer to his side, seemingly almost skittish.

when he would ask, she would smile and say it was nothing, just that she wanted to be with him.

then she got a bit more insistent, holding on to his arm and then abruptly tugged, trying to pull him away.

before she could, a feminine voice called out her name, and his s/o seemed to freeze in place.

“i thought it was you!” the woman greeted as she approached the two, “how have you been? it’s been so long.”

vincent greeted the woman and she returned it rather warmly, she seemed nice, yet his s/o seemed on edge.

“i’ve been doing great actually,” she sounded all too quiet as she replied, too unlike herself, and vincent noticed immediately with a murmur of this woman’s name.

he recalled how his s/o had mentioned before, she had been hurt by someone close to her by befriending someone else who had hurt her too.

he assured her that there was no worry with him, that he would never do anything to hurt her.

but meeting the woman who was once friends with his s/o was surprising, he had imagined her unbelievably cruel, yet she seemed so friendly.

“that’s good to hear! i love your dress by the way, you look so pretty tonight,” the woman complimented.

all the while vincent was watching his s/o’s expression, which had softened and showed none of her earlier uneasy.

“thanks! someone got me this dress—” she had smoothed her hands over it before looking back up to the other other woman, “can’t say the same about you though.”

it seemed both the woman and vincent gawked at his s/o.

she paid no minds the the stares though, promptly taking vincent’s hand and lead him away.

he was quiet, processing what he had just witnessed.

it should have have been a surprise, because she was such a strong and capable person, but it still came as one.

vincent was pulled from his thoughts when he heard his s/o laugh.

“are you okay? you look a little shocked.” she said sweetly, with a true softness as she reached out to his face.

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snailg0th · 3 years

Text

random hc’s for tma characters

jon’s a picky eater

tim was super shy as a child

jon and tim met thru research, jon and sasha met at some big institute meeting where sasha used some dry humor and jon instantly went “you’re the only bitch here who gets me”

this is less of a hc and more loosely confirmed canon but oh well jon dresses up and acts super uptight and academic because as a kid they were told they’d never make anything of themselves

tim says poggers

martin worked in the library before being appointed to the archives

tim and sasha went to university together

jon and sasha bonded over being raised by grandparents

another “loose canon” one but tim is overly sentimental and keeps some of the tapes for himself because after losing his brother and (in my mind) his parents he basically imprinted on the s1 crew and dubbed them his new family

jon uses he/they

jon loves punk music

i am a “the mechanisms was jon’s college band” truther

sasha wanted to go into politics as a kid

tim is neurodivergent (adhd) and hyperfixated on architecture when he was young and then got his degree in anthropology with a focus on culture so he could study why people built things the way they did. the publishing house he worked for specialized in anthropology and archeology

sasha got a degree in english literature, hence her extensive work with leitners. she also minored in religious studies which sparked her fascination the weird esoteric stuff the institute specializes in

jon and tim don’t like bugs. sasha kills bugs. martin takes them outside.

martin attracts the weirdest animals. geese and raccoons and birds and shit just follow him around

jon originally wanted to be an english or history teacher so he got a degree in education. however, he decided he didn’t like it so he switched to philosophy

sasha does kick boxing

one day, tim wants to go and do kick boxing with sasha. she absolutely destroys him.

martin loves stars

jon is allergic to grass

jon and sasha can’t dance but tim and martin can

one day jon wears a hoodie to work and everyone loses their shit because they exclusively wear like sweater vests and shit

elias just throws out people’s lunches sometimes (yes this is based off that one post)

martin likes spiders especially because when he was little he identified with them, as he perceived them as creatures nobody else really liked (*sobs*)

georgie has red hair (i think black people with red/orange hair are so stunning so this is definitely inspired by that love)

melanie started ghost hunt uk because someone told her youtube wasn’t a valid career

melanie got tattoos because people told her she wouldn’t look good with them

melanie does nearly everything out of spite and i love this about her

martins hair turns white after the lonely thing (widely accepted hc)

basira wears the hijab (another widely accepted hc)

basira knows some form of martial arts, not quite sure which one

daisy was definitely one of those kids who always wanted to be a cop 🤢

gerry has an undercut because i say so!

gertrude was definitely hot when she was younger

martin has picked up a bunch of random skills over the years, including knowing flower language

tim definitely convinced jon to smoke 🍃 once at an institute party and the results were exceedingly funny

at the same party, elias shocked everyone with how high his tolerance was (nobody knew he used to be a stoner at this point)

elias enjoys breaking things then asking everyone “who did it”. he enjoys the chaos.

jon caught feelings for martin during the prentiss attack

gerry would definitely wear skirts

martin has a secret cottagecore tumblr account

sasha follows this account. she doesn’t know it’s martin.

jon utilizes pinterest far more than he cares to admit

elias knows modern slang and peppers it in to his vocabulary just to fuck with people

he once wore light up sketchers and called melanie into his office to see them, knowing nobody else would believe her if she told them what she saw. she is haunted with this knowledge.

tim listens to mitski

martin can sew

martin is shockingly extroverted when he’s with people he really trusts and cares about

martin can and will get aggressive with creepy guys at bars

sasha can say the alphabet backwards

in a theoretical world where tim and sasha went to sixth form together (google told me that was the british equivalent to late high school so sorry if that’s wrong) tim would be saluditorian and sasha would be valedictorian (ik the british prolly don’t have this but i’m using this analogy to show that they’re both INCREDIBLY smart)

#tma #the magnus archives #tma headcanons

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cali-holland · 4 years

Text

Mixed Up in Time- Peter Parker One Shot

Pairing: Peter Parker X Rogers/Carter!Reader

Prompt: When Peter accidentally time travels back to 1960, he meets you and a few familiar faces, including your mother Peggy Carter.

Word Count: 4500

Warnings: probably swearing; bad usage of 60’s slang

Important to note: The blip happened, but we’re ignoring Steve going back to Peggy and Tony dying and the Russos’ dumb time travel rules; we’re also ignoring that Sharon and Steve were ever romantically involved

A/N: i was watching back to the future and thought of this sooo yeah

~~~

The room was pale white, and nothing looked familiar to Peter. The wooden bed frame looked new yet dated, and the mattress was incredibly uncomfortable for him to lay on. He slowly tried to sit up, but stopped as he realized his hand was locked to the nearby nightstand with a handcuff. He could easily break the handcuff- and the nightstand, but his mind was so filled with confusion, he didn’t know if that was the right thing to do. He was locked up in a foreign bedroom, he needed to play this smart.

He heard voices from behind the closed door before it opened. A man stepped inside, leaning on a crutch for support. He looked at Peter critically, like he was trying to figure out why Peter was here- and frankly, the teen was trying to figure that part out too.

The man asked, almost hesitantly, “Who sent you?”

“What?” Peter replied.

“Who sent you? Was it Hydra?”

“Hydra? No, why would Hydra send me?” He asked.

“So you are working for Hydra!” He accused, and a woman stepped into the room.

“Daniel! You’re scaring the poor boy.” She said, her brown eyes glancing over at Peter momentarily.

“Poor boy? He demolished your car when he fell out of the sky!” The man, Daniel, stated. The woman stepped in further to the room as Daniel took a step back. She smiled kindly at Peter; something about her red lips and English accent made her seem familiar to him, but it wasn’t until she spoke again that he recognized her.

“What’s your name, son? My name is Agent Carter.”

Agent Carter. The Agent Margaret “Peggy” Carter.

Peter looked at her in disbelief, his eyes growing wide at her words. He slapped a hand to his forehead, groaning in frustration. He rambled helplessly, “Oh my god. Mr. Stark’s going to kill me, but I can’t believe it- he was right, it actually worked.”

“Slow down. Mr. Stark?” Peggy asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “How do you know Howard?”

“Um, what year is it?” Peter replied, stress still flooding in his body.

“1960.” Daniel answered. His skeptical eyes never left Peter as Peggy stepped closer to him.

“You’re not from here, are you?” She spoke softly.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I’m Peter Parker and I’m from 2023. Well, actually I was born in 2001, but then in 2018, I died for five years, and I just came back to life and now I’m here in 1960, with you two. And the Mr. Stark I was talking about is Howard’s son actually.” He rambled nervously, “I have to say, Miss Agent Carter, it is an honor to meet you.”

Peggy looked at him in disbelief, “You- you know who I am?”

“Yeah, Mr. Rogers told me-” He paused, seeing the look of heartbreak flash across her face. “Oh, right, you don’t know.”

“Steve’s alive?” She breathed out. Peter looked behind her, spotting Daniel standing in his own discomfort now.

“I’m so messing up the space time equilibrium right now. Oh my god, did Back to the Future teach me nothing?” Peter mumbled to himself, and Peggy stepped forward, cautiously undoing the handcuff and freeing him from the restraint.

“Am I the only one who’s lost here?” Daniel asked, looking between Peggy and Peter.

“Call Howard, Daniel. Peter’s in the wrong time, and he needs to get home.” She said before making her way out of the room. “Peter, stay here until we can get Howard to sort this all out.” She paused in the doorway, “And do not mention Steve. No one can know.”

Daniel rushed out after her, leaving Peter alone. He let out a sigh, leaning back against the headboard. Well, maybe that’s why everything seemed strange- he was now living several decades before his time.

“Mr. Stark said-” Peter started, but Happy cut him off.

“You wanted to be the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, remember? Tony invited you to join the Avengers and you refused. He will be back from his mission soon, but until then, don’t do anything or else I’ll get blamed.”

“Happy, come on. He could use my help.” He insisted, trailing after Happy in the compound, “Can you at least tell me what the mission is?”

“Rogers is looking for someone, and Stark is helping him.”

“Kid! What are you doing here?” Tony’s voice boomed as he stepped into the compound, a sullen Steve following in behind in, just to quickly duck down the hall towards his room. Bucky and Sam sent Peter a sad glance before both following their friend. Peter couldn’t help but recognize the own grief present on Tony’s face.

“What happened? Did someone die?” Peter asked quietly, and Tony bit his lip unsure.

“Look, kid, there’s something I should tell you about Steve.” Tony sat down on the couch and Happy slowly left the room, giving it to Tony and Peter. “You know Agent Peggy Carter?”

“The SSR agent that Steve,” Peter paused, “that Steve loves?”

“Yes. When Steve and I went to 1970, he saw a file on Agent Carter. She had a daughter back in the 40’s, and Steve asked me to help him find her. Besides Sharon, this girl is the closest thing to Peggy he has.”

“Did you?”

“She disappeared in the 60’s. No sign of struggle, she just vanished one day. Her case was so buried that Romanoff was the only one who could find it, but even then, it was all dead ends. This was our last shot at finding her or anything that traced back to her. But Steve found a letter from Peggy that says-“

He was cut off by a loud crash from the basement, making both of them stand up immediately. They ran down the stairs to see Sam and Bucky holding back a distraught Steve in the hallway.

“What the hell is going on?” Tony questioned.

“The time machine.” Sam replied. In awe of the flickering white light coming from the time machine, Peter stepped forward, eyeing it curiously.

“Tony, please, I need to go back.” Steve said, his voice hoarse.

“No. You’re not going back there, Steve. You know it’d mess with the timeline too much if you went back.” Tony stated.

“Kid, get back!” Bucky called out. Peter turned to look at the four older men across the room.

“Peter, no!” Tony shouted, but it was too late. The time machine erupted, and the last thing Peter remembered was the blinding light overcoming him before he succumbed to darkness.

“Peter, wake up.” A soft voice pulled him out of his sleep. He jumped back instinctively before he registered that you weren’t a threat, holding a plate of cookies and a retro blue can of Pepsi, one that Peter hardly even recognized as the classic soda.

“Who- who are you?” He questioned, uneasily.

“My name’s Y/N. I thought you might be hungry.” You said, offering him the plate and he took it warily. You set the mug on the nightstand beside him. “So, you’re from the future.”

With a mouthful of cookies, Peter nodded, before he swallowed, “Yes. And, these are really good by the way.” He replied, eating another cookie.

“Thank you. It’s my mum’s recipe.” You answered, and he paused, looking at you quizzically.

“Mum?” He questioned. Considering you had a clearly American accent, he was confused by your British word choice.

“Peggy.” You explained, laughing a little in embarrassment. “She’s my mum, but we’ve lived in New York my whole life, so I’ve got the American accent. I just can’t call her mom- it doesn’t sit right.”

“Agent Carter is your mother?” He asked in disbelief, “That’s so awesome.”

“Right. She told me you knew about her. What’s the future like? Pretty neato, I bet.” You sat down on the opposite side of the bed from him, smiling softly.

“I don’t know how much I can tell you. I don’t want to-”

“Ruin the space-time continuum, as my mum said.” You finished his sentence for him, “It’s pretty far out that you’re from the future. This completely changes how we should perceive the space-time continuum. We’re so focused on getting to the moon that we haven’t even thought about the future yet. Has a woman time traveled yet? I’d love to be the first one to- or maybe the first woman on the moon. Has a woman been to space yet?”

Peter blushed at your ramblings, finding it adorable that you’d be so interested in it. He wanted to tell you that you’d be the first at all of it, but then he remembered Tony’s words. Peggy Carter’s daughter disappeared without a trace. You didn’t exist in the history books at all; you were just Agent Carter’s lost daughter.

“Y/N,” Peggy started, stepping into the room again. “I was going to ask you to keep Peter company, but I see you’re already doing that.”

“Mum, we were just talking about-”

“The moon. You’ll get there, love.” She placed a hand on your shoulder, before turning to Peter.

“Howard won’t be here for several hours. When he arrives, could you help him create a time machine to get you home?” Peggy asked, and Peter nodded.

“Yeah, but we need Hank Pym as well.” He replied. “He has a particle- the Pym particle, and we need some. Just a little bit.”

“I’ll make some calls.” She stated, making her way out of the room again, “And, Y/N, when I say keep him company, I mean he is not allowed to leave this house.”

“Yes, mum.” You called back to her, hearing her walk down the hall to her office, closing the door behind her. “Right. Let’s go.”

“Wait, but Peggy said-” Peter looked at you like you were crazy as you stood up from the bed and held your hand out to him.

“Peter, come on, when else are you going to explore 1960? Besides, you could use some new threads.” You smiled encouragingly, and he timidly stood up from his spot on the bed. He took your hand and you quietly snuck him out of the house, easily slipping past your mother.

As you walked down the street with Peter, he felt like he was transported into an old film. Everyone was wearing strange clothes (appropriately though from the decade), and the cars- they were all so old, but cool nonetheless.

“I’m going to get a slug bug like that when I can drive.” You told him, pointing to a VW Beetle as it passed by.

“Those look so-” He paused, “old.”

“You are in the 60s, remember?” You teased, tugging him into a small clothing shop. He froze when he looked at all the odd clothes. He wouldn’t usually wear anything besides jeans and a dorky t-shirt or casual sweater, but something about seeing you smile as you looked over the clothes made him at least want to try to enjoy his time in this unfamiliar decade.

You had barely in the store for five minutes before you were shoving a handful of clothes into Peter’s arms, pushing him towards the dressing rooms. “You have to try these on.”

“Y/N, I don’t know,” He trailed off, eyeing the colored plaid pants in the pile.

“1960, Peter.” You reminded him, and he nodded. Peter closed the dressing room door and you continued to mindlessly browse around while you waited for him.

“So you never answered me about space.” You called out to him. He laughed behind the door as he changed.

“Yes, we make it to space.”

“Have we found other life yet?” You asked excitedly.

“Well,” He sighed, “they technically found us, but we fought them off several times.” Dressed in green plaid pants and a brown sweater, he opened the door, “I’ve actually been to space- been to another planet in another solar system even.”

“Oh, no, that’s hideous.” You shook your head, and he laughed, closing the door to try on more clothes. “Another planet, though? What was it like?”

“Um, it was awful. It was destroyed, and I kind of died there.” Peter replied, shaking his head as he didn’t want to relive the memory.

“Died? You 21st century people have an unreal way of speaking.”

It was then he realized that between your slang and his that you had no clue he was serious. “Actually, I did die. This alien killed off half the universe and I died, but then my team traveled back in time five years later and saved us- all of us.” He looked at himself in the mirror at his newest outfit, deciding he thought he looked good enough to show you.

“That must have been awful. I’m sorry, Peter.” You answered, feeling guilty for asking.

“It’s alright. I was readjusting to being home, or well in 2023, when I traveled back here.” He explained, opening the door again, but you had your back to him as you looked at some sunglasses. “How’s this?”

You turned back around to face him and a smile lit up your face at the slimming white trousers and bright blue polo. Under your intense stare, Peter felt himself growing self-conscious. “It’s twitchin’.”

“Is that a good thing?” He asked with a laugh, and you nodded.

“It means it looks great.” You laughed. “Now you don’t stick out as much.”

“As much?”

“You still look like a future guy to me.”

After buying Peter his new look, you took him to your favorite little diner, one with the best milkshakes. Although Peter had only known you for a few short hours, you were captivating to him. He’d never met someone so fascinated by the world and so incredibly brilliant for your age. If you were anything like your mother, Peter could understand why Steve was still in love with her; Peter would still be dreaming of you in seventy years.

“Have you ever been to Times Square?” You asked him as the two of you left the quaint diner.

“Not in 1960.” He joked, making you smile at him.

“Well, then we definitely need to go.” You stated, “We should also go see a movie. There’s this new Hitchcock film coming out called Psycho-”

“Psycho gave me nightmares.” Peter shuddered at the memory, laughing lightly, “Oh yeah, I’ve seen it in the future.”

“Then you can hold me when the scary parts come up.” You joked, catching the blush that hit his cheeks. Before he could respond, a car pulled to a stop next to you two on the sidewalk.

“What did I say about leaving?” Peggy questioned with the window rolled down from her spot in the passenger seat.

“Sorry, mum.” You sighed, opening the back door. You let Peter climb in first and then you followed after him. Peter looked around the fancy interior of the car in confusion, until he saw the S emblem on the steering wheel. This was the car of Howard Stark.

“Did you get me a milkshake?” The driver asked you with a cheeky smile, and you shook your head.

“Had I known my mother would hire a chauffeur then maybe I would have gotten you one.” You stated, crossing your arms as she rolled her eyes at you. You turned to Peter, “This is Jarvis by the way. He’s Mr. Stark’s driver.”

“You’re the Jarvis?” Peter questioned.

“The Jarvis? Am I famous in the future too?” He asked, starting to drive the four of you away.

“No, but Mr. Stark has mentioned you before.”

“Peter.” Peggy said, calling his attention back to her, “I don’t know much about time travel and the space-time continuum that you and Howard keep mentioning, but I know every second you spend here could be detrimental to our world. Please, keep talks of the future to a minimum, especially since we are going to see Howard right now. Do not discuss his son or any details of the future.”

“Yes, Miss Carter.” He nodded, and you reached over, placing a hand on his leg to reassure him.

“Y/N, when we get to Howard’s lab, I want you to go home with Daniel. Jarvis and I will need to oversee this operation.” She stated.

“I’m not leaving.” You replied defiantly, and Peter held his breath, feeling the sudden tension in the air. “And especially not with Daniel.”

“Y/N Carter, you will treat Daniel with respect. You’re like a daughter to him.”

“Daniel is not my father though, and he will never be.” You said.

“Fine.” Peggy huffed. “You can stay, but only because you could help Howard build this machine.”

“Thank you.” You muttered.

The four of you arrived at a large warehouse on the edge of the city. Peter, suddenly feeling nervous about meeting Mr Stark Sr., followed behind you, Peggy, and Jarvis. He’d heard enough bad things about Howard from Tony, and now he was going to meet the monster firsthand. When they stepped inside the warehouse, Peter spotted a woman and a man standing beside each other, overlooking parts spread on a table.

“Howard,” Peggy called out, getting their attention. When Howard turned around, Peter immediately recognized him; his resemblance to Tony was uncanny. The woman, though- he had no clue who she was, but her kind smile made him feel welcome.

“You must be Peter from the future.” Howard stepped forward, outstretching a hand to him. Peter hesitantly shook his head. “Tell me, what’s my legacy in the future?”

“Miss Carter said I shouldn’t discuss details.” Peter replied, nervously clearing his throat. Howard laughed before turning back to the table.

“Did you get the Pym particle?” Peggy asked Howard. Before he could respond, the door opened once more and in walked another man and a woman.

“If you think I’d let Howard Stark use my particle without my presence,” The man trailed off, and Peter froze, recognizing the man.

“Oh my god.” He breathed out, eyes trained on the young Hank Pym who he’d met through Scott once- the Hank Pym that he studied in school, the Hank Pym he did a project on in middle school.

“Peter, this is Hank Pym, Janet Van Dyne, and Ana Jarvis.” You said, clearing up the strangers’ names for him.

“Why’s he looking at us like that?” Hank asked.

“I- I know you from the future; both of you.” Peter replied, looking between him and Janet.

“No details, remember?” Peggy spoke up, “Now, let’s get this time machine running.”

For the next few days, Peter worked tirelessly with this new team to get the time machine built and running. He was happy that Tony had gone over the specs of the machine with him after the battle, and he was also grateful that he had an impressive memory that allowed him to remember all of it. If anything was off in the slightest, Peter wouldn’t be sent back to 2023; he’d be lost to the quantum realm forever. And, even though your mother wanted you as far removed as possible from this, you stayed by Peter’s side through it all.

“It’s done.” Peter said, proudly, as all of you overlooked the machine.

“We built a time machine.” Hank stated in disbelief, still not fully believing his particle was the key to all of it.

“And this.” Howard stepped forward with a small machine in his hands. Peggy looked at it curiously.

“What is that?” She asked the question on everyone’s mind.

“We just built a time machine with technology we shouldn’t know about. This will make us forget this week.” Howard explained.

“But we’ll forget Peter.” You said softly, looking over to Peter with a new found sadness on your face. He wanted to tell you it’ll all be fine, that he’d see you in the future, that you had been the first woman to space so he read about you in his history textbook- but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to lie to you. He didn’t want you to know that Peggy dies of old age, Janet spends decades in the quantum realm, Howard becomes an abusive father before he’s assassinated by Bucky Barnes (who you definitely knew about), and that you of all people disappear sometime this year without any trace of your whereabouts.

Before anyone could say anything, you hurried out of the warehouse. Peter looked to Peggy, silently asking if he could go after you, and she nodded in approval. He ran off after you, finding you sitting on a nearby bench, overlooking the city. You held tightly to a compass in your hands, and Peter hesitantly sat beside you.

“I know it’s only been a week, but I don’t- I don’t want to forget you.” Your voice was unsteady as you spoke. “What happens to me in the future?”

“I don’t know.” Peter replied quietly.

“I want the truth, Peter. I know I’m not in any of your textbooks, but you know something about my future. I can see it in how you reacted to who I am.”

Peter looked at you, unsure of what to say. His eyes flickered down to the compass in your hand. A picture of Steve sat in the small compass, just like how Steve had that compass of Peggy. He felt his heart stop as he processed the small object’s meaning, “You’re- you’re Steve’s daughter.”

You closed the compass instinctively, your own hands starting to shake, “I’m sure you know the story of Captain America. He died before my mother could tell him.”

“He didn’t.” Peter began, “He didn’t die. Steve’s frozen in ice, and he comes out of it in the future. He’s the reason I’m here. He knew Peggy had a daughter, and he was trying to come see you.”

“My father’s alive?” You asked, feeling tears well up in your eyes.

“Yeah, but, Y/N,” He sighed, “You disappear. At some time during this decade, you disappear from existence. No one knows what happens to you.”

You were silent for a moment, processing his words, “What if I went with you?”

“What? To the future?” He asked, and you nodded, “No, Y/N, you can’t. That’d be breaking so many-”

“Think about it. I disappear from existence, and no one knows, but what if no one remembers? I could go with you and meet my father.”

“But your mother-” Peter started, but a voice cut him off.

“Would want you to go.” Peggy said, and you turned to face her. “Peter told me when he got here that Steve was alive, but I didn’t know how to tell you. If you want to go to the future, then I won’t hold you back.”

“But, mum, I’d never see you again, unless,” You trailed off, looking to Peter, who shook his head sadly, confirming Peggy’s fate by 2023.

“Take the compass and go see your father, Y/N.” She spoke softly, “I won’t erase my memories, but I’ll make sure your disappearance remains a mystery. The future will be safe.”

Speechless, you stood up and hugged your mother tightly, a few tears slipping. After a few solemn moments of goodbye, the three of you returned to the warehouse. Peter bid everyone farewell, thanking them for all of the assistance. You wordlessly hugged Daniel.

“Take care of my mum for me.” You told him. Before anyone could say anything, you gave your mother one last hug goodbye. With your compass in one hand, you held onto Peter’s hand with the other. Howard pressed a couple buttons and you two were met with a blinding light, saying goodbye to 1960.

~~~

“Steve, what were you thinking? It’s broken!” Tony shouted, pressing some buttons in an attempt to somehow bring Peter back even though he knew the machine was past fixing.

“If you found out you had a daughter seventy years ago, you’d want to go see her too!” Steve exclaimed, coming to Tony’s side. Bucky and Sam stayed back, looking at their friend sorrowfully. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You can’t go back there. I know what it’s like to miss out on your life, too, but she’s gone. Peggy’s gone, your daughter’s gone.” Bucky said in his best attempt to console his friend.

“And now the kid’s gone again. The kid that I risked my life to save is gone because you couldn’t handle your own kid being gone, your kid that you didn’t even know existed!” Tony fought back. As Tony and Steve began to argue, Sam and Bucky heard a small crash behind them.

“Are you two done arguing because the spider boy’s back.” Sam stated, and the bickering between the other two men immediately stopped.

“Kid, why are you dressed like you belong on the cover of Abbey Road?” Tony asked immediately, taking in Peter’s white suit. Peter opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out as he saw Steve’s eyes fix on you, an unreadable expression on his face.

You fidgeted with the compass between your fingers, nervously breathing out, “Mum says hi.”

Wordlessly, Steve enveloped you in a tight hug. Bucky looked at Peter questioningly and Sam poked at Peter’s suit’s collar, as if to ask why the hell he was wearing something so out of the ordinary.

“I needed some new threads.” Peter joked, making you let out a small laugh.

“Right on.” You smiled.

~~~

“Wait, wait, so you’re Captain America and Agent Carter’s daughter?” Ned asked in disbelief.

“Yes.” You nodded.

“But wouldn’t that make you like 80 now?”

“Ned!” Peter groaned at his friend’s question, and you laughed at his secondhand embarrassment.

“Yes, Ned, I technically would’ve just turned 80.” You replied, and both boys looked at you in confusion. “I was born in ‘43.”

“Dating an older woman. Nice.” Ned teased his friend, nudging Peter’s elbow.

“We time traveled. It doesn’t count. Can we please stop talking about my girlfriend’s age?” Peter let out a sigh. He’d already explained the whole time travel situation to Ned, so when he invited his friend to a Stark party a few months down the road, he didn’t expect Ned to be so invasive about your age.

“So is 2023 better than 1960?” Ned asked you, and you smiled looking over at Peter beside you.

“I’d say so.”

Seeing the intense, yet cutesy eye contact between you and Peter, Ned mumbled something about getting more soda before leaving. Peter placed a hand on your cheek, caressing it lightly, “I’m glad you came to the future with me.”

“I’m glad I did, too.” You smiled. Peter leaned in to kiss you, but paused as he saw Steve, Bucky, and Sam watching the two of you from across the crowded room. You turned to follow his eyes, scoffing a little as you looked back at Peter, “They’re such drags.”

“Absolute downers.” He laughed lightly- he picked up on some of your 60’s slang just like you’d picked up on his modern terminology.

“Just tune them out.” You joked, before leaning in to kiss your boyfriend. Who knew all it took was a little accidental time travel for you two to find each other?

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-holland @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor

Peter Tag List: @quaksonhehe

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fic #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot

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drawlfoy · 4 years

Text

The Wonders of Ohio P.5

masterlist (check here for parts 1-4!) request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: from 14 year old me babey

warnings: cringe, mentions of drug use, mentions of sex, language, and just bad writing

summary: y/n is in her senior year of high school when she is asked to take on an exchange student from britain that’s a little...different. this is NOT a nonmagic AU. draco is still a wizard and this will become and integral part of the story shortly.

a/n: heyyyy everyone. i graduated from high school this week and i’m posting this as my happy-one-year-to-me. as some of you may know, i posted my very first fic on this day a year ago. i’m really happy to see how i’ve grown since and i’m so lucky to have shared this with all of you. anyways, nittygritty--

this part is really the last slow exposition chapter. chapters 6 on will be a whole whirlwind beginning with homecoming and i hope that you guys are willing to stick around. i promise itll be worth the wait. y/n is going to get the story arc of a lifetime and also please do not hate heather she is just going through it ok

anywayssssssss

tags tags tags @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural

word count: 4.6k (;))

song recs:

strawberry blonde -- mitski

in your neighbors garden -- mimi bay

wishes -- beach house

ode to artifice -- samia

pink in the night -- mitski

enjoy <3

The seatbelt buckle scorched the side of Y/N’s exposed neck as she turned to face the disheveled blonde in the passenger seat.

“Do I need to teach you to set an alarm?”

Draco let out a huff. “Stop. Do you have a….a comb, or a brush, or something here?” His hands looked abnormally fidgety. Their actions were shaky, varying from patting his pockets to running through his hair. He seemed more and more frustrated each time his hands left his pockets empty.

How curious Y/N thought as she racked her brain for any remembrance of putting a brush in her car. It was always a mess, and she honestly couldn’t blame Draco for assuming that anything could be in there.

“I don’t think there’s one here,” said Y/N, trying to sound at least a little sympathetic despite the fact that his tardiness had them 10 minutes late. “You can look around if you want, king.”

“What’d you call me?” His voice was suddenly sharp and awake.

Y/N rolled her eyes so hard that she thought they’d get stuck in the back of her head. “You don’t--ok. It’s a joke. You can call guys here that.”

“And it means that I’m…?”

“It means I’m acknowledging that you exist, I guess. It’s not like it has a strict negative or positive connotation. Like, I can say ‘Ok king’ to any man telling me something and it can either be sarcastic, or it can be because I don’t know what else to say and just want to let him know I heard him.”

Draco’s eyes looked a tad glazed over when Y/N dared a glance in his direction.

“I know it’s confusing. I’m sorry. I’ll try and ease you into the world of American slang.”

He granted her a little “uh-huh” before opening up the glovebox with great difficulty and rummaging through the mess. Y/N would’ve felt more embarrassed about the tampon that fell on the ground in the process if he seemed like he actually knew what it was.

Her attention turned back to the road as Draco continued to sift through things. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything embarrassing hidden away in the corners of her car--after all, it hadn’t been organized since the beginning of summer--and decided that it was better to pretend it wasn’t happening.

It wasn’t the eerie silence that eventually prompted her to turn to look his direction--no, it was the weird energy in the car, like the feeling right before a thunderstorm. All the hair raised on her arms, and she shivered...but it was stifling hot in the car.

“Oh, did you find a brush?” she asked. His hair laid as perfectly as always, but his hands were lying shaking in his lap, palms to the sky. No hairbrush was in sight.

“Er... “ He was paler than usual, which was quite the feat for someone who looked like a ream of paper. “No. Just remembered a trick my father taught me.”

She tensed at the mention of his father--the very first time Draco had done so. “Oh. Okay. Glad you got it figured out, king.”

Her voice lightened on the last word, hoping she could coax a little smile out of him.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Ok.”

oOo

There were many things Y/N thought she understood, but Draco Malfoy being in her Physics C class was not one of them. She took pity and sat next to him as he fumbled his way through the first lecture. His notes, while neat, were littered with crossed out portions and question marks.

You do know there’s an eraser on your pencil, right? she jotted on a note that she sent his way. His brow furrowed and he seemed to tap at the end of the eraser for just a few moments before deciding otherwise and xing out another practice problem he’d done incorrectly. Symbols that she’d never seen before were scattered all throughout his notes.

Maybe the UK kids just learn stuff differently.

By the time that Physics came to an end, Y/N was eager to get away from the storm cloud that was brewing over Draco’s perfectly smoothed and infuriatingly pretty moonbeam colored hair. The amount of attention he was getting from all the other girls made Y/N want to jump off a cliff--suddenly everyone was her “best friend” “just wanting to check up on what happened over summer”. She was grateful to see the face of Lizzy, grinning and looking mischievous during their break period.

“You must be Draco,” said the redhead, a glint in her eyes. He looked a little scared.

“Er...yeah.”

“Mind giving us some privacy? Y/N and I have some urgent matters to discuss,” she continued, looking him up and down. Y/N attempted to ignore the twist in her gut as she watched him swallow and nod, turning away to go brood elsewhere. Once he was out of sight, Lizzy grabbed her arm and yanked her into the girl’s bathroom.

“It’s so funny how he’s following you around like a lost puppy,” Lizzy said. “Also, he’s gorgeous. If you don’t at least try to get some of that, then I’m never trusting your judgement again.”

“But, Li-”

“The boy’s a fucking walking Wattpad story cover. Dark, tragic past, unbelievably sharp jawline, rich parents, exotic accent....honestly, Y/N, I don’t know what else you could want.”

“Mom literally called him my host brother,” said Y/N. The bathroom was starting to smell suspiciously like cotton candy. “That’s wrong. On so many levels.”

“But you’re not related!”

“But it’s gross! And predatory! The kid doesn’t even know how to do basic algebra! I’m all he has!”

Lizzy’s eyebrow found its new home in the middle of her forehead. “You’ve gone absolutely batty if you think that every girl cursed with attraction to men in Cincinnati wouldn’t jump his skin at the chance. Use your head, queenie. He’s not alone. Shoot your shot.”

Y/N opened her mouth to serve back a retort--that was definitely there, thank you very much--but decided against it once she realized that the bathroom had become dead silent. “Um...maybe we can go over this later.” She flickered her eyes over to the line behind them that was now intently hanging on their every word. “I forgot I had to talk to the counselor.”

Lizzy was smirking as they exited the bathroom and began the search for Draco. It didn’t take long--the circle comprised of Heather and her friends was more than enough of a giveaway that he was about.

“Draco, sorry to make you wait,” Y/N called out. It took all her effort to abstain from cringing as her voice rang out across the group. Heather turned to send her a big smile.

“Hey Y/N! You didn’t tell me that Draco was from London!”

“He’s not,” she responded. “He’s from Wiltshire.”

“Wiltshire. Of course. That’s what I meant.”

Draco’s smile was tense as he looked down at Heather--who stood roughly 4 inches below him--but he was smiling, and that wasn’t something that Y/N was on the receiving end of frequently. She didn’t know whether to be offended or relieved.

“I’m sure. Break’s almost over, Draco. I can show you where the English department is before the time is up.”

He paused, looking down at the blonde grinning up at him. “Er, actually, Heather already offered to show me around for the rest of the day.”

“Yeah, for sure. I’ll see you in French.”

Y/N was shocked at the sheer amount of jealousy that rose up in her throat as she turned away and made her way to Art History---the only class Y/N and Draco didn’t share. The walk was strange. Being in solitude after having a gloomy British boy attached to her hip was understandably eerie. Because that’s all it was. Adjustment. Nothing else.

She settled in at a table full of her friends, namely Sylvia. The tall girl was always a bit whimsical, but Y/N found that she was a breath of fresh air compared to everyone else. It made sense that Sylvia would take Art History--her dark academic inspired aura and the perpetually hot mug of black coffee just screamed history nut.

“How’s your new brother?” she asked after the teacher had taken attendance. “I say that because I haven’t heard his name yet.”

“Ick, it’s gross to think of him as my brother,” Y/N responded. “And I know! We need to catch up. I’m sorry about not talking to you for a bit. The time difference was a bit weird during your trip.”

“It’s ok, I get it. I was away on family business, anyways. I didn’t expect you to spend your days staying up until the wee hours of the night to tell me all about your exchange student. Anyways. His name?”

“You’re gonna scream when you hear it, Vie,” she said. “Draco Malfoy. It’s so posh. You have no idea. It definitely suits him, though. He’s very...You good?”

Sylvia’s olive toned face looked a bit paler than usual. “Yeah. Yeah, I just remembered that I forgot to take the trash out this morning. I’ll have to text my mom about it.” She adjusted the wool cardigan that hung around her shoulders and came up looking composed. “Draco, huh? His parents must hate him.”

“At the very least! He’s so rude. And uptight. I can’t tell if it’s just a Brit thing or if it’s because he’s an asshole.”

Sylvia laughed. “I mean, when I was there over the summer, it was a different culture for sure. We’re by far louder. But I didn’t meet many mean ones. You must’ve just got a bad apple, then.”

“I guess so. He is pret--”

“Ladies, is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

“No, Mrs. Jensen,” Sylvia and Y/N said in unison.

oOo

“Thoughts, king?”

“I told you not to call me that.” Draco glared at her as he tried to open the passenger side door to find that it was locked tight. “Unlock? Please?”

“And I told you not to get cozy with ASB kids, yet here we are,” said Y/N as she slotted the key into the lock and turned.

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. I’m just looking out for you.” She slammed the door shut and threw her bag in the bag. The line of traffic to get out of the school was long and stuffy, and she was eager to just get it over with.

The wait was so hot that Draco peeled off his stupid formalish jacket that was on thin ice of being called a blazer and probably worth more than her car. Y/N tried to look away as his hair became slightly ruffled, but she couldn’t pry her eyes away. It was endearing, almost, how someone who could look so posh and serious could have ruffly hair--and hair that naturally light, too. She had asked him one night if it was dyed, and he scowled at her and told her the grammatically correct term was dead, and that his hair was alive, just like the rest of him, thank you very much. She dropped it.

Y/N finally rolled down her window after the AC simply refused to satisfy her, and the wind was a nice reminder to keep in her own lane. Draco was beautiful. There was no other way to put it. He had a feel of power to him, like he was capable of anything but just held it back. But he was just as inaccessible as he was pretty, and there was nothing she could do about that.

“Y/N?” He asked after a few moments of sitting in silence. “What’s Homecoming?”

“Who told you about that?”

“Heather. She asked if I had a date. Is that like a ball here?”

“She asked you if you had a date on the first day?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. ASB kids never do sleep, huh.”

“What?”

“Homecoming isn’t a ball. It’s like a...an…” Y/N paused as she saw Draco raise his eyebrows. “It’s, like, uh….Well I guess it is like a ball. An American one, though. Way less extravagant. It’s an excuse to get dressed up and run around the city. There technically is a dance, and all the ASB kids have to go, but literally no one else does but the underclassmen. Normally I go out with my friends and a date to somewhere fun and take pictures. And then get trashed afterwards.”

“Classy,” said Draco. “I think you can go now.”

A honk behind her emphasized his point as the space in between her and the car in front widened substantially.

“Thanks. Anyways, it’s not really a big deal. I’d suggest not going with Heather so you can skip out on the dance portion. Or if you want to go with her, get her to come with us into Cincinnati because I am not going to spend my last homecoming watching a grind circle.”

“A...what circle? And I don’t want to go with her.”

The relief Y/N felt was embarrassing. “Um...better if you don’t worry about it. You have a long time to figure it out anyways.”

He seemed satisfied with that answer, propping his elbow up on the center console. The pristine button up he was wearing had ridden up, exposing the pale skin and the bottom of the tattoo she had seen a hint of earlier. “Do you have a date?”

“Um. No, not yet. I don’t think anyone except for couples do yet. We have until the end of this month to figure it out, so I’m not too worried about it.”

He nodded as Y/N’s car finally left the school parking lot and began picking up speed.

“I’m assuming you had balls? At your posh boarding school?”

“Er…” Draco ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it further. “We only had one. It was when I was 14. We called it the Yule Ball.”

“Why only one?”

“It was for a special occasion. We had two other schools join us as well. It was quite a good time.”

“So every student only has one ball in their lifetime?”

“Of course not. Some of us--the ones from old families--have events like that regularly.”

“I’m sorry if this is overstepping my bounds,” began Y/N, noticing how he tensed up, “So you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. But, I’m just wondering, what is your family like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like are they nice?”

“Oh.” The line in his forehead relaxed. “No. They wouldn’t like you.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said. “Do you like them?”

She heard the breath hitch in his throat. “I don’t know anymore.”

“I’m sure it’s hard to think about it when you feel like they’ve just shipped you off without anyone,” she added. “I’m really sorry, Draco. I know I’ve been a bit mean to you. I know that I’ll never be able to understand what you’re going through right now.”

The slight smile that spread across his face would’ve knocked her to her knees if she wasn’t already sitting down. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

The silence that awaited them for the rest of the journey was comfortable.

oOo

School began to pick up the pace after the first few days. Y/N got into the swing of homework and her extracurricular workload. Draco was having a bit more difficulty, she presumed, but he’d never admit to it. She took pity one evening and gave him her laptop opened to a Khan Academy tab for Physics and was pleased to see that he showed up to class the next day with completed homework. He asked to borrow her laptop on a much more frequent basis after that.

The routine they settled into had her heart leaping into her chest almost constantly--they’d eat breakfast together at the table, Y/N would try to ignore how pretty he looked across the table as they shared a pot of black tea (earl grey, which Y/N was thrilled to learn was his favorite as well), they’d get in the car, she’d write him notes in physics to help him (even though he never asked, he always smile and give a little shake of his head before unfolding them and intently staring at her writing), they’d drive home together and bitch about their French teacher, he’d retire to his room and do whatever pretty blonde Brits do in the afternoon, they’d meet unexpectedly at the same time in the late evening to have a final cup of tea, and then they’d go to bed and do it all over again.

It was difficult for her to admit, but Y/N was falling very quickly for Draco. It was gross, and wrong, and manipulative, and completely against the code of conduct for exchange families, but she couldn’t help but spend her days fantasizing about how his gold-spun hair would feel as she ran her fingers through it or how gently she’d trace her fingers around the tattoo on the soft flesh of his forearm…

But Y/N knew those thoughts weren’t right. And they would go away. Eventually.

“How’s it going?” Sylvia asked, effectively snapping her out of her thoughts. The Art History sub told them to go into independent study, whatever that meant. Y/N was not very good at either of those words.

“Pretty good. I can’t believe it’s been 3 weeks already,” she said. “It’s gonna be Halloween before we know it.”

“I can’t fucking waitttt,” said Sylvia. “I’m gonna be Wednesday Addams.”

“Again?”

“What else would I be? I get a new high collared black dress every year. It’d be a shame if it were going to go to waste. What are you gonna be?”

“One of the thousands of students finishing their UChicago ED app hours before the deadline.”

“You’re kidding. Can’t you just finish it the day before?”

“Where’s the fun in that? And, plus, I don’t have an idea as cool as Wednesday.”

Sylvia smirked as she opened up her planner and began to jot down something. “How’s Draco doing? I haven’t seen much of him lately. It seems like he never hangs out with us at break anymore.”

“Yeah, I ended up getting him connected with the Physics teacher. He’s getting tutored now. He thinks it’s all bullshit, but I don’t want to be the reason he doesn’t get into a good school.”

“Is that all you care about?” She smiled at Y/N. “Lizzy was telling me that you’re interested in him.”

“First of all, keep your voice down. Second of all, I’m not supposed to be, so I’m not.” Y/N hoped that the edge in her voice was convincing enough.

Her friend raised her eyebrows so dramatically that her glasses nearly slipped off her nose. “Y/N, who’s gonna hear about it. You guys are both going away at the end of the year anyways, and I’m sure he’s not going to be writing to his dear mum about his love life. If it’s consensual, there’s nothing wrong with it. I think it’d be good for both of you.”

“I see that, but let’s put me in his shoes right now.” Y/N shuffled in her seat and clasped her hands. “I’m rich. I’m British. I’m very hot. My parents throw extravagant balls for me and I kiss pretty girls that say water like ‘wota’. I’ve spent my life in silk and I only drink the finest teas. My family is so important that I had to be shipped off halfway across the world just to be safe. And now my incredibly expensive life has reached a peak because I’m sleeping with a random girl in Ohio that has run approximately 4 stop signs since I’ve met her.”

“You’re sleeping with Draco?”

Y/N turned to see Lauren, a wide-eyed, obnoxious, but well meaning girl staring at her. She heard Sylvia stifle a laugh behind her. “No. I was kidding.” The smile that she followed with was awkward and showed way too many teeth.

“Oh, okay,” said Lauren. “Do you know if he likes anyone?”

Sylvia’s smirk widened.

“No, actually, he’s a pretty private guy.” Y/N sent her another tense smile, and Lauren finally turned away.

“Jealous, huh?”

“Shut up, Vie. You know I wouldn’t go for him. Even if I had the chance.”

She just raised an eyebrow and smiled.

The afternoon brought its own set of struggles. Their French teacher had blown up at another student who had been caught cheating on their last test, and it was all Y/N could do but hold back her snickers until they were out in the parking lot.

“I can’t believe they still managed to conjugate their cheat sheet wrong.” Y/N was gasping for breath as she unlocked the car door and threw her stuff inside. Draco was watching from the passenger seat, his lips in a soft upturn. “Can you imagine? Oh my god.”

He just shook his head and turned to look out the window, but she could see the smile slowly stretching across his face. “Ridiculous. You could totally tell Monsieur enjoyed it, too. I bet he gets off on making kids like Joey cry.”

“I had a teacher like that,” he started. “He was a Poti-a chemistry teacher.”

“Oh? Did he ever attack you?”

“No. He liked me. Family friends and all.”

“Ah. I almost forgot that your family was rich and influential. Thanks for the reminder.” She reached across and lightly punched his shoulder. His smile, though still remaining, seemed to shrink. “Hey, what’s that in your bag?”

Y/N motioned to the cardstock peeking out of his nondescript black backpack that always seemed to fit more than it was meant to. She could make out a few words written in what looked like a bright red sharpie--something that did not exactly scream Draco Malfoy aesthetic.

He froze up. “Er. It’s from Heather. I think she called it a Homecoming ask?”

Y/N’s throat dried up to the point that no words would willingly make the climb from her diaphragm to her tongue; instead, she settled for giving him a little nod and what she hoped was a convincing smile.

“I told her I’d think about it,” he continued. “I remember you saying that the school dances sucked. So I let her know that I wasn’t sure yet.”

She nodded again. “Super cool. You can do whatever you want, though. You can come with my group if you’d like, but you’re welcome to go with Heather’s.”

“What? So you aren’t coming with me if I go with Heather?”

“Fuck no, dude. I don’t hate her, but I would way prefer to spend a night with my friends than some girl from my French class that only talks to me because she thinks you’re hot.”

The expression Draco made reminded Y/N that he would never get comfortable with American girls calling him hot. “Ok. Have you found a date yet?”

“Chad from Econ asked me yesterday.”

“Is that why my seat was covered in glitter?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going with him?” Draco’s hand was clenched tight in a fist in his lap.

“I think so,” said Y/N, steeling herself and deciding to just go for it. “But, of course, if you asked me I would say no to Chad. Just out of principle. I am supposed to be your tour guide, after all.”

The only parts of him moving were the few stray wisps of his hair being pushed around by the AC going.

“But that’d be weird. I’d only expect you to take that up if you really didn’t want to go to the dance itself.” She swallowed and pulled out onto the main street, putting distance between them and the school. He was silent for a few moments. The quiet, normally comfortable between them, was stifling and strange. She pretended to ignore the way he was fiddling with his cuffs.

“Yeah, it could be,” was all he said before slumping against the window and closing his eyes.

Mrs. Y/L/N was sitting at the head of the coffee table when the two arrived home, carding between a stack of letters in front of her. The mug of something--probably that new decaf blend she hadn’t stopped raving about--was sitting lopsided on a coaster, just barely about to topple off the edge. She looked like she hadn’t moved for hours, the novel she had been previously reading sat face down to preserve the spot next to her no doubt lukewarm drink.

“Hey Mom,” Y/N said as she set her keys down. “Anything good?”

She looked up, her expression morphing from startled to happy. “Other than the college brochures? Nothing, except...hm, what’s this?”

Her well manicured hand pulled at a crimson envelope, with sloping writing that seemed to shimmer in the light.

To the Y/L/N Family, it read. The loopiness of the writing looked like it wiggled at the ends, but that had to be a trick of the light. It was dim in the kitchen during afternoons, after all.

“It looks cool, open it u--”

“No!”

Draco’s voice had never sounded so loud as it did then as he lunged across the kitchen, snatching it out of her mother’s hand and clutching it to his chest. “Er, it’s for me. I recognize the handwriting.”

“Cool, see you later,” said Y/N. She was up the stairs and slamming her door before either of her housemates could say another word. After the horrible embarrassment that was technically Draco’s rejection, she needed to be alone.

Even burying her face into her pillow and squeezing her eyes shut didn’t keep the scenes from their car ride at bay. She had been so stupid, so stupid. Why did she even think he wanted that? He was her brother, after all. Oh god, does he think we’re all from Alabama or something?

She wallowed for a few more mournful minutes before deciding that she had to pick herself up and handle it like an adult. After all, she was going to be 18 in just a few months. There was no excuse for her to act like a child anymore. And, plus, it wasn’t like she couldn’t just play this off as a pity invite. Yes,that’s what she’d frame this as if he ever asked her about it again. She felt bad for him was all it was.

Once satisfied with her internal dialogue, she rolled out of bed and made for the foyer where her bag was still on the table. She’d first walk on Legos barefoot before she had to let a stupid boy--especially one that didn’t know how to turn on their shower and had to ask for her help every time--come between her and her 4.0. Never.

Her thoughts were cut short, however, when she heard a new sound from his side of the hallway. She froze, listening closely.

Draco was crying.

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #draco #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

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bbq-hawks-wings · 3 years

Note

I thought about the change of hawks' speech back to his dialect in cha.303, and it got me thinking how this might translate in the anime english dub. I wonder what Zeno might do with it - (I picture him laying on a polite, southern american drawl, but maybe im thinking too simple!)

So here's an interesting conversation to have! When you translate from Japanese to English in written form you can have a little leeway with how you color speech since people tend to mentally fill in the blanks - as long as you keep a tight hold on slang because that doesn't necessarily mesh well from culture to culture. (Australian slang may not always make sense to an American audience, for example - like how the clothing item "thongs" bring a much different immediate picture to mind with each respective culture. It would be better to use "sandals" instead, maybe.)

HOWEVER, trying to use accents to differentiate with spoken word is not as clean cut. There's nothing particularly wrong with it, but if you're trying to create an impression with a particular accent, another country/culture who speaks the same language may not have a frame of reference for it. So the nuance of a Southern drawl from a Texan twang may not translate very well for Non-American English speakers, and then you have the risk of alienating or stereotyping a portion of your audience that does understand or give an impression of the character you didn't intend if you're "painting" accents in broad strokes - (such as using a posh British accent for an evil character).

More than likely the director will choose a more casual mode of language for the scene or simply drop the nuance all together if they don't set a precedent for the difference between Hawks' standard Japanese and his Hakata-Ben before that point so the audience can catch it when it happens. The decision will likely not even be in Zeno's hands.

Overly Sarcastic Productions did a great video on this subject, actually, and I recommend checking it out!

#she speaks #let's talk hawks

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pb-nj · 3 years

Text

(So I made a thiiiiing and this thought wouldn't leave me and this.. just happened. I've convinced myself to write a fic after 7 years? There will be a few British slang in there jsyk but its 4am and my mind can't decipher between American and British slang anymore.)

Tsundere

3 Times Nico acts out tsundere (and Levi knowing how to perfectly deal with it) and the 1 time he blurts out the truth

Tsundere: A fictional character who fits the archetype of having cold and even hostile personality towards another person before gradually showing a warm and caring side over time.

I Love You

Levi never shied away from speaking his affection and it was one of those mornings he stayed overnight at Nico's knowing they have the morning off the next day. Watching the fellow across the kitchen island wearing nothing but track pants, hair floopy and hanging over his eyes while preparing their breakfast, he can't help but blurt it out, "I love you."

Instantaneously, without even looking up, Nico's sideway smirk appears on his lips, "I know you do."

"You.. Are such an ass." Levi rolls his eyes but there was mirth in his tone as he shakes his head at Nico.

He doesn't need to hear it. He used to yearn for Nico to say it back but now..

Now he knows it's in the way Nico cuts up Levi's toast into perfect triangles, without crust, butter and then peanut butter and just a smidgen of jam on top, just the way Levi likes it.

It's in the way he grabs Levi's waist and pulls him in for a quick peck as the other was on his way to grab some milk from the fridge. Nico doesn't let go of him and Levi complains the coffee will go cold. Nico would just smile and let him go but his eyes would follow Levi's every movement.

It's in the way Nico knows just how Levi likes his coffee and would watch Levi's reaction to gauge if he's done it perfectly (and he knows when it isn't because Levi is the worst liar and Nico won't hesitate to grab the mug, pour it down the sink and make him another one until it is spot on).

It's in the way that Nico convinces Levi to just stay the rest of the morning and he can borrow his clothes so that Levi doesn't have to go home and get ready for their afternoon shift. Levi protests because the clothes would be too big but Nico would keep pulling him back, suggest to showering together even and Levi relents.

It's in the way Nico would hold Levi's hand over the console as they're driving to work and when they're at a stoplight, he'd lift the hand his holding, kiss the back of it as he looks softly over at Levi, I love you too

Hold Me Close

Levi found him eventually, in one of their favourite on call rooms. Why he didn't think of coming here first he didn't know. He should've known better that this would be where Nico is most comfortable sulking on his own. It's the smallest on call room but the single bed can fit two people. Nico likes small spaces when he's emotional, likes knowing where all the corners of the room are and feels grounded when the walls of the room are within touching distance.

He was currently sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped together, staring at the blank wall. He's lost yet another patient, this one he actually got close to and got to know well. He was only 18 and was inspired to be a surgeon. Nico called him his little prodigy. Nothing went wrong this time, the boy's body just gave out and Levi was scrubbed in to this surgery with Nico and even he had a hard time calling the time of death when Nico couldn't utter a word, just stood there rooted on the spot looking down at the boy as if it was all just going to be a joke and his heart would pick up again.

"Do you want some company? Maybe, I can hold you?"

Nico shakes his head, letting out an exasperated sigh as he finally looks up at Levi, "No Levi, I don't want to be held. Do you want to be held?"

His tone and eyes were annoyed but Levi knows him now, he just has to look at the shivering hands and he knows.

"Yes, I'd like to be held. I know he was your patient but I've grown fond of him too."

Nico's eyes changed from angered to numb before he drops his eyes and nods, patting the space next to him. Gingerly, Levi makes his way over, wraps his arms around Nico's waist and hugs him from the side. Nico wraps an arm around his shoulder, patting soothingly.

Later on, they'd end up lying on the bed and it's Nico who has his arms wrapped around Levi's waist, face hidden on Levi's neck as he makes ragged breaths, trying to keep himself from crying. Levi pretends he doesn't know and stops himself making soothing caresses to keep up with the pretense. Nico knows how obvious he's being but he is grateful Levi is letting him keep whatever strong facade he has left. Thank you, I needed you the most.

Stress Relief

"Just stress relief."

Levi is replaying this phrase in his head as he looks up at the fancy hotel ceiling, catching his breath. He should've known better than to agree to this but his very being is craving and yearning for Nico still. And the sex is amazing, always was.

He thought he's already gotten used to Nico's cold persona but sometimes it gets too much and he just wants to hear exactly what Nico is feeling and not play the little hidden affection game they've somehow fallen into. That led to their breakup and it was agonising.

Nico was.. is, his first love and he can't let go that easily. Nico didn't seem to have a hard time carrying on with life after the breakup. Levi is still a mess and he isn't afraid of showing it. Although when the pandemic hit, he'd watch Nico worriedly, knowing well that the fellow is keeping it all in and pretending to be numb to everything.

He looks at the fancy clock in the room and gosh why is everything so fancy and why did Nico choose this hotel just for a few hours of romp in the sack? Truth be told, Nico invited Levi over to his apartment but it was too familiar, too soon, too.... intimate for what they only are now.

The Levi who thought he knew Nico throughout would have thought that this is Nico's way of showing he missed him, by taking him back to the place where they've shared memories. The Levi now, who wants to protect whatever sanity he has left, pushed for a hotel room and not thinking of any glimmering hope.

Levi realises he's been looking at the clock without actually checking the time. 10pm, he can still catch the commute home.

Just as he sat up, Nico attempted to throw an arm around his waist and it ended up connecting quite strongly against his bare chest. "Ow!"

"Shit sorry! I-.. where.. are.. are you leaving?" Nico raises one brow, sitting up and looking so adorably confused that Levi could hardly stop himself from leaning over to kiss that expression away. He doesn't.

"Yeah it's late and I need to go home before the last commute."

"But.. Wh-.. Okay."

Levi searches his face but Nico just turns away, scratching the back of his neck as he lies down, back facing Levi. He sighs as he moves to get up, cleans himself and put his clothes back on.

The silence was awkward and Levi couldn't wait to get out of there. Just as he makes his way to the door, Nico bolts out of bed, naked and all, grabbing Levi's elbow.

"You know, there's a perfectly good bath tub we-.. You didn't get to use at all and baths are good stress relief." He gives him a coy smile and Levi could only blink a few times, eyes betraying how perplexed he's feeling.

"It's such a waste, I mean I could run you a bath and maybe I can join you too? I mean if we're relieving stress, might as well just go all out right?"

Levi stands there, silent for god knows how long. He's tempted to rebutt and say he isn't stress out anymore but he notices Nico's fidgeting fingers on his free hand. Levi knows this gesture, knows what Nico is not saying and he isn't sure if he wants to fall back into this routine again.

But as he watches Nico close and open his free hand, notice his pleading eyes which he normally never allows to show, Levi lets go of the door knob and nods.

He moves to put his bag back down and he doesn't see the way Nico smiles behind him before preparing the bath.

Minutes later, they're silent in the tub, Levi's back against Nico's chest as they relax in the warmth of the water. The silence isn't awkward this time and Nico languidly places kisses on Levi's shoulder.

And then a few more hours later, Nico watches the sleeping Levi across from him, lying on his side facing Nico. He watches his lashes flutter and makes the decision to pull him across and tuck him against his chest, head underneath his chin and wrapping his arms securely around Levi. It's then he finally feels comfortable and slowly falls asleep, will you come back to me?

"I can't lose you"

Levi was walking ahead of Nico, looking for something in his bag. It's been weeks of this colleagues with benefits things they have. They can't exactly be friends with benefits because they hardly ever talk when they're not having sex and sometimes they tend to get into a spat when Nico blatantly ignores some of Levi's diagnosis. Levi sometimes thinks it's probably because Nico loves riling him up and he's always known Nico finds him cute when he's all vexed and pouty, not that Nico can see that from the behind his mask.

They're on their way to Nico's because Levi finally felt guilty for making Nico spend money on hotels whenever they have sex and Nico doesn't let him pay. But if Levi wants to be true to himself, it's because maybe, just maybe something in their dynamic may change if they go back to where they used to do things together. His heart is on the line, he knows this. He's gotten his hopes up again, he knows this. But Nico always asks him to stay afterwards and he remembers falling asleep by himself but always wakes up with him in Nico's arms and.. It has to mean something right?

"I can't lose you." Levi stops, is confused for minute before he realises the voice came from behind him. He looks back and sees a very shocked Nico who seems to also not believe that came out from his own mouth.

"What? What do you mean?" He walks back to Nico, looking up at him. This is the closest he's been to the fellow without sex as a prerequisite.

"I..." Nico swallows thickly, avoiding Levi's gaze as he takes a shaky breath. "I've just been thinking what if it was you on that bed and not Meredith Grey. And god knows I'm glad it's not you and I know this is shitty of me because everyone needs Meredith Grey but what if you were one of those people who I can't wake up, whose life is dependent on a machine and.."

He trails off, closing his eyes before finally looking back at Levi. He reaches for Levi's hands and holds them delicately as if he would crumble at the slightest touch.

"I don't deserve you and I'm not someone who will say how I feel all the time. I show my affections differently and it's not how you want to be loved but... The thought of losing you forever, I don't think I can ever live with that."

Half of Nico's face is obscured by his mask but his eyes show so much, so much that Levi has never seen him show before and thinks he doesn't even need to hear all those to know what Nico wants to say.

"I love you Levi and it's stupid that it took a world pandemic to make me realise how much I do and how much I don't want to lose you. And I want to make every single second we have together count. I won't be a perfect lover but I hope you know, whatever I don't say, you will still feel how much I care about you." Nico pulls him closer, anxiously waiting for an answer and yes they're breaking the distance rule but they're both too engrossed to worry (and to Levi's excuse and relief they've both tested negative)

Levi breaks the eye contact and laughs, shaking his head, before looking back up at Nico. "With how much you've said tonight, I don't think you need to say anymore for the rest of our lives."

Nico's eyes widened before they crinkle, finally letting out a relieved chuckle. "The rest of our lives?"

"If you'll have me?" Levi shrugs shyly.

"I won't have anyone else, I'm in love with you Levi."

Levi smiles, genuinely smiles for the first time in weeks and he wants to kiss Nico badly but he'd rather save it in the comforts of their privacy. He moves to turn around and go but Nico holds him back, "You're not gonna say it back?"

Levi gives him an amused pointed look and they both know where this is headed, "I will in 2 minutes. I'd just like to see you sweat it out."

Nico laughs and just like Levi did back then, this time he's the one who hugs Levi from behind, holding him close and from now on he's never letting go.

Be mine, forever

#schmico #nico kim #levi schmitt #grey's anatomy #greys anatomy #I ADDED FLOOPY HAIR NICO #and omg i made a fic #schmico fic

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cherry3point14 · 4 years

Text

Cookies & Milk

Pairing: Dean x British!Reader Warnings: Established D/s, mind you don’t fall down the crack Word Count: 2,172. Summary: Dean buys you some cookies. You call them biscuits. Arguments ensue, lines are drawn and restraints are required. A/N: Have any of y’all met @winchesters-meaty-feast? She’s my pal and partner in crime. We have extensive conversations about many a subject but one day the most important topic arose. Biscuits. I’m a dunker, she is not. It almost tore us apart but luckily we’re stronger than that. Anyway, I drabbled this Dom/sub biscuit thing in our chat and the following CRACK is what snowballed from that. (This is meant to be dumb ok. Don’t come for me over this weirdness.)

Ao3 if you prefer.

You should close your laptop.

In the late afternoon—underground where the time of day doesn’t matter—even then the light it’s emitting is too blue. Sure, you could turn down the brightness but it’s too little too late. Your eyes are already starting to ache from the strain.

You're not even doing anything important. You started scrolling a few hours ago; a news story that might have been something, but turned out to be nothing. Less than nothing, it was mundane. Dull as dishwater, as your mum might say. You would have closed your laptop then if it hadn’t been for that link at the bottom of the page. To another article, this time about an unexpected cold snap. This leads you to look up weather trends in Kansas, which becomes reading the articles on weather.com. Who even knew weather.com had articles? Still, they do and they’re very informative. The problem is that their data all points to it being cold as balls soon (your term, not theirs). So, now you’re shopping, with a pair of snow boots and two winter coats in your basket. And you’re debating a new scarf to put you over the free shipping threshold.

It is really time to shut your laptop before you go ahead and checkout. Dean hates having to pick up your parcels in town. Always complains that you have a problem. Pretty hypocritical considering the number of breweries he keeps in business. Besides he doesn’t even have a reason to complain, Marta loves seeing him, she lights up like a Christmas tree for him. You walk into the post office and you get a ton of side-eye, plus a ten-minute wait, but Dean? Well, he’s always at the front of her line.

You’re so engrossed in shopping that you don’t immediately look up at the sound of the bunker door. It’ll be Dean, you know that much. He’ll have a couple of brown bags from his supply run and you don't want to insult him by insinuating that he needs help.

It’s for the greater good anyway, the longer you sit here the more chance there is of you buying him snow boots too. Maybe he'll let you buy him a hat too.

Once he’s finished stomping his way down the stairs he sets the paper bags down next to you. It just so happens that's the exact moment you finally look up at him. A grateful smile on your face and over the top fluttering eyelashes—to remind him how loveable you are.

He shakes his head at how obvious you are. “I didn’t buy them for just you.” His unnecessary emphasis is all the permission you need.

“Is that smoke?” You sniff the air, one arm sliding inside the nearest bag, “must be the fire in your pants.”

He tries. Bless his heart. He tries to hold out. You can see him chewing the inside of his mouth as your arm moves about inside the bag to liberally finger his goods. The haul from the supermarket anyway. But he cannot resist your lame jokes and it ends the same as always. He cracks. A twitch of his lip, shaking his head and then an eye roll even Sam would be proud of.

“Other bag, Sherlock.”

“Ah-ha!” You grin when you switch to the other bag. Instead of fresh fruits and vegetables, you’re treated to food of the more processed variety. Plastic bags filled with crisps, a pie carton and, oh he really does love you, biscuits.

You slink back down to your screen, tearing the package open with your teeth as you do. Revitalised by the imminent influx of sugar. Dean sighs but doesn’t say another word. He picks up the rest of the groceries and carries them away. Presumably to the kitchen by the distant sounds of him putting everything away.

It’s another five minutes when he returns with a glass of milk that he puts down next to you. With a determined thump of glass on wood, as if the sound is an entire explanation.

“Thanks, but you know I don’t…”

“Take the damn milk.”

Normally you’d be irritated for being cut off mid-sentence, but it’s his exasperated tone that catches your attention. You even deign to look at him again, ignoring the popup that’s offering an extra 15% off if you enter your email. “You ok?”

He scratches at the scruff on his jaw while he tries to internally talk himself down from the ledge. “Nothing, nothing. Drink the milk, please.”

You look from him to the glass and frown at the white liquid. There’s nothing wrong with it per se. It looks like a perfectly good glass of milk, the kind you might see on a ‘got milk’ ad from the nineties. It’s not that you hate milk, you just prefer your biscuits to have a little bite. Dean should know that by now but if he’s forgotten then you are more than happy to remind him. “You eat your biscuits how you want, let me eat mine how I want.”

In your attempt to be rational you have failed to notice the desperation in his, 'please'. And now you’ve managed to tick him off.

“Cookies,” he grinds out.

“What?”

“They’re cookies. Dammit, you’ve lived here long enough to call a cookie a cookie.”

The outburst is not Dean’s fault. He’s not exactly hoarding MAGA caps and asking you to go back to England. No, this outrage is the product of a very specific joke that you might have taken too far.

Ordinarily, you switched back and forth between American and British all the time. As easy as breathing. You’d lived in the good ol’ US of A for long enough that your brain simply picked out the first word it could reach. A lot of the time it ended up being American without much intention, people understood better.

And then a few weeks back you’d been on the way to a hunt, sprawled in the back seat. Despite the fact that you were still strategizing with Sam you were comfortable. You could have fallen asleep right there if Sam hadn't kept talking. The word had slipped out on a whim. You called Baby’s trunk a boot.

Dean—being an absolute drama queen—had slammed on the brakes and eloquently asked what the fuck you called his Baby. Apparently, it was the first time you’d said that particular British word.

If you hadn’t found his reaction utterly hilarious that would have been the end of it. Except you did find it funny. The way his face soured, that little crease in the middle of his brow, he was so offended by four little letters. It was beautiful.

Now it’s been a few weeks of very purposeful language choices. Asking to borrow his mobile to make a call, or to wear his hoodie. And you’ll admit the ‘pip pip cheerio’ as he left the bunker earlier had been excessive. That isn’t even a real thing people say.

You’ve been torturing the poor guy with British slang. And because this isn’t the first time you’ve taken a joke too far, you’d usually hold your hands up and apologise. You’re good at apologising. He likes when you have to apologise because you always make it worth his while.

The problem is, biscuit had been an honest-to-god slip of the tongue. It had been the most natural word for your brain to conjure and so his anger seems a tad unjustified. Utterly out of proportion.

“It’s a biscuit.” You repeat as you take a bite, noticing the way his left eye seems to twitch at the crunch.

“It’s a cookie. It says right there on the packet. It’s a fucking sandwich cookie.” He points at the ripped plastic on the table for emphasis.

You sigh with the kind of effort that forces all the air from your lungs. “This country can’t spell half the time, why should I trust the packet?”

“Because you’re eating from it.”

He’s got you on a technicality. And he knows it. He knows it by the telling pause before you speak and the flash of panic in your eyes.

“So?”

It’s not an argument that’s going to win world-class debates but you couldn’t go ahead and let him have the last word.

Dean's problem now is he thinks he’s got you on the ropes, so he goes and gets cocky. He puffs out his chest a little and bites back a smirk.

“So? So… cookies and milk is as American as apple pie-”

“Invented by the Dutch.”

“-whatever. It’s a thing. Which means you gotta sit down, shut up and drink your fucking milk.”

You always love it when he does that. Argues his way to a conclusion whether he’s right or not. It’s kind of ridiculously hot.

Or at least that’s how you justify putting your half-eaten biscuit down. Slowly rising from your chair and crawling onto his lap. You lean in, slow enough to tease him, letting your breath settle over his skin as you whisper in his ear. “I know a way we could settle this.”

“What’re you doing?” He manages between teeth that are grinding against each other. The muscles in his arms are tense where he’s pulling at the rope that holds him.

Any other night and you might calm him down at this point. Remind your good boy that he shouldn’t hurt himself. Or depending on the game you’d remind him who he belongs to, who he’s foolishly directing his anger towards. But there’s no soothing touches or harsh reminders bestowed upon Dean tonight. This game is different. This is a battle for dominance, unlike one you’ve played before.

For the first time, he wants to win as much as you do.

There’s no mutual satisfaction in the room because you’re both out for blood. Where blood equals being right about snack goods. And unfortunately for Dean, he didn’t figure it out before he let you tighten the ropes around his wrists.

“I thought that was obvious, baby. I wanted something sweet.”

His eyes flick between the glass of milk he’d seen you carry in and the cookies plated up beside it. Well, you’d call them biscuits but that’s not what this argument is about.

“Don’t you dare.” There’s a threat in his voice.

For a moment it surprises you and you’re quick to counter him, “I’ll do what I like.” Your tone is reminder enough for him to remember his place.

He retreats a little, gives an inch so that you can take a mile. A breath rattles through his chest doing little to calm his tightly wound body. At the very least, he switches anger for desperation. Dean knows you love it when he pleads, “please Princess. Please, I’m begging you. Dunk it.”

Your entire body glows a little when he calls you by your name. The change in his attitude only urges you onwards though, with a smirk turning up the corners of your mouth.

Your hand finds a treat, fingers picking it up with deliberate, delicate movements. His eyes are wide as he watches you hover the biscuit over the glass as if maybe you’ll appease him. The whimper he lets out when you bypass the drink is almost fulfilling enough that you’re no longer hungry. Almost.

The room takes on an eerie silence as you part your lips and take a bite. A loud, crunchy bite. Crumbs fall onto the table beneath you—probably in slow motion— and chewing only seems to increase the volume.

“Son of a bitch.” He mutters as you swallow, “you’re crazy.”

You hadn’t planned on it but you walk across the room then, half a biscuit in your hand and a satisfied smile on your face. He’s slumped in his chair a little. He’s defeated since he knows he won’t defeat the knots keeping him in place.

“Come on, try it for me.”

“Go to hell.”

It's your turn to roll your eyes, “don’t be so dramatic, you’ve been to hell. This can’t be that bad.”

As you reason with him, you slide into his lap again, which will be torture enough because he can’t touch you. Except you also hold the biscuit to his lips.

“Please. For me. Be my good boy.” You coo as if you're not toying with him.

His thighs twitch beneath you at the use of his nickname and, because he’s always your good boy, he opens his mouth.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer

#dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean dean the soft lil bean #I missed all the 2020 bingos so this is the sort of shit you have to suffer with now #I bet you missed me now

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neptunium134 · 4 years

Text

Send in the Clowns analysis (eh?) pt2

@midsomer4life, you wanted this, get redy for more of this maddness

After this scene, I am convinved Jamie was a Scout:

(We’ve used paraffin lamps in Scouts while I’ve been there, so if Jamie was a Scout he would undoubtedly have used paraffin lamps, or paraffin to light the Trangas). Basically, if I asked my non-Scout friends to idenity what smelled of paraffin, I doubt they could do it as it’s not common anymore, seeing as we have electricity and none of them were Scouts.

Jamie was a Scout or has a DofE under his belt, or both.

Jamie wearing wellies to the Gun Club:

I mean that’s just cute. John or Sarah probably bought them for him.

Jamie’s facial expressions in the abattoir:

I mean, same, mate.

John doesn’t look that uncomfortable, more focused on Mostyn, but Jamie looks like he wants to puke. This could just be down to age and experience- John has had more experience with going to weird places like abattoirs, and he’s seen a lot of gore in Midsomer, while Jamie is still relatively new to it.

Mostyn picking on Jamie, and asking John “You sure he can handle it”, and John looking at Jamie before going in (some of which I haven’t screencapped, but if you’ve seen the episode you’ll know the part I’m on about, if you haven’t seen it, it should still be on the ITV Hub):

And I just love this low-angle shot. Let me geek out about media for a moment, but this shot is amazing and I love it:

Notice how the audience are looking up at the characters, as if we’re the pigs almost? The camera was probably on some sort of ledge or dolley, but we are effectively the pigs in this scenario. The shot also makes Jamie look shorter, pushing our focus on the two important figures in the scene: Mostyn and John. Jamie is being pushed back and down so the audience’s attention is on the action in the scene.

Mostyn’s ‘red room’ is understandably and disgustingly creepy:

Ugh, that is so gross, it makes me wanna vomit just looking at it.

And this red herring:

Making the audience think it’s the rifle when it isn’t, well done, screenwriters.

Father and son sitting down at the same time:

(Not that good of a screencap, but oh well)

I just found it cute.

This line perfecly capuates every kid’s feelings to their parents not listening to them:

(Just to be clear, this line is being said by Harry, not Joe)

This should not happen:

That clown should not be able to outrun Jamie. We’ve seen Jamie sprint after suspects before- the first ones that pop into my head are Crime and Punishment (S19, E2) and The Lions of Causton (S20, E4)

TLOC was literally two episodes before this, Jamie could not have slowed in a few in-canon months, if anything he should be quicker.

I know it’s to build tension and conflict so we don’t find out the original issue of this episode before the plot is ready to advance in such a way, but Mostyn cannot outrun Jamie. It’s impossible, espically when Mostyn is wearing that stupid outfit and the oversized shoes.

Raoul outing every magician to have ever magicked:

Jamie once again proving the wonders of modern technology:

No, this is literally what my classes do when we haven’t got time to make notes in class.

Jamie is Gen Z confirmed.

The infamous oil scene:

Now, there’s a bit to unpack in this, so let’s try to break it down.

In my opinion, Jamie is focuing on his phone in order to impress John with what he found out. Me and @midsomer4life have a theory where Jamie was ignored by his parents, so he’s reaching out to the first parental figure who has shown impression with what he’s done. I feel like that’s what Jamie’s trying to communicate in the last photo. A sort of “don’t bring up my parents” kind of look.

But it does also fit into what we’ve seen of his personality- a little absent-minded and determined to please. In CaP, Kam describes him as “cocky” and “arrogant”, but aside from that episode and maybe a little bit in Curse of the Ninth (S19, E6), there’s not really any evidence for that.

To me, Jamie is just trying to impress John, and as the seasons go on, it seems less of a ‘trying to impress the boss to keep a job’ and more of a ‘trying to impress a parental figure’.

But that’s just my take.

Also, big steppy:

Fleur making John say “please” in front of his son:

She’s just trying to make sure John is raising his son to be polite.

John and Jamie finding Mostyn’s ‘red room’:

The only appropriate reaction.

This interaction:

Bommy Vommy Jamie.

Also, I love this running joke that John loves old movies- we had to look at a Hammer horror film poster for media, and I think it was from the 60s. If we’re using the actor’s ages for the characters, then Jamie, at this point, is roughly 33-ish (annoyingly, the UK airing date is almost two years after the US one, so I’m using 2018 as a benchmark). Hammer horror films reached their peak around the 1970s. Once again, if we use Neil’s age for John, then John would have been 20 around 1981. It’s likely he saw some Hammer films before he went to uni, which could be the reason why he likes old movies so much- they bring back good memories with his parents/ family.

I just love that it references a niche love of John’s and it gives John the chance to poke fun at Jamie for his younger age, like how Jamie did to John in TLOC.

This throw-away line that’s actually quite funny and incredibly British:

Priorities

This line:

Once again, this is showing Jamie’s younger age- he’s referencing a children’n storybook.

As much as I would love to think John has read this to Jamie as a bedtime story, it’s more likely Jamie’s read it to Betty if he’s ever babysat her (which would be amazing, ITV make it happen!)

The way Jamie moves in front of John when Mostyn points the rifle at them:

Let me protect you, father

The this shot which I just love:

Despite Jamie being in the foreground, he is in blurred-focus while John is in-focus. This once again allows the audience to focus on John as he is talking while keeping Jamie in their view. It’s not a POV shot from Mostyn, the positioning’s all wrong for that, so it’s obviously a narrative shot.

John refering to Mostyn’s ‘red room’ as his “chamber of horrors”:

Personally, I think this is referring to The Village That Rose from the Dead (S19, E1), where Jamie refers to the snake room as “the deadly room of serpents”, which John instantly shut down. A canonical year later, John is using similar wording to refer to Mostyn’s ‘red room’, suggesting that Jamie’s playfulness has rubbed off on him and he’s taken to using it in a similar way certain social groups use the same words of phrases to create or strengthen a bond.

Using these kinds of words in that order that directly references something Jamie said could be John’s way of trying to strengthen the bond between him and Jamie, in a similar way to how parents will try to understand the language and slang their kids use, in order to appeal to them so they can strengthen that bond.

This episode focuses heavily on families and familial bonds. It’s probably unintentional, and I’ve just picked up on it due to my English Language course, but if it was intentional, we could be looking at a much stronger familial bond being formed between John and Jamie in S22 and onwards.

Right, I’m gonna end this part here, the next one should be the last one since I’m running out of screencaps and they’re all from the end of the episode.

Once that part’s done, you won’t have to endure any more of this

#Midsomer Murders #Neptunium over-analysing everything as usual #John Barnaby #Jamie Winter #Fleur Perkins #Send in the Clowns analysis #Part 2

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possiblyimbiassed · 4 years

Text

What happened to Sherlock? Part VIII - The Sign of the Hetero Norm (2)

This is the second installment of my meta about the significance of Mary in BBC Sherlock and hypothesis #8 in this meta series; that John is not the father of Mary’s baby. It follows directly on the first installment, which you can read here.

(For the record, I’ll also repeat the disclaimer: My suspicion here only concerns John’s biological offspring. It would still be possible that John, and perhaps also Sherlock, might father the child - if it exists - by adoption. It does not exclude a metaphorical reading where the baby represents, for example, Sherlock’s and John’s relationship. i also want to stress that this hypothesis is an attempt at logical reasoning based on observations in the show and in ACD canon; it’s not meant to be ‘gossipy’ and has nothing to do with whether I would actually like to see this happen or not - that’s a whole other story. ;) )

Mary’s background and canon similarities

The first time Sherlock meets Mary in TEH, he deduces a series of things about her, most of which we haven’t seen explained this far. But there’s one thing in particular that seems to stand out to him: that she’s a liar.

In HLV we learn that Mary has lied about her background to John, and she keeps lying and deceiving in S4. But even if HLV and S4 aren’t ‘real’, and Assassin!Mary only exists in Sherlock’s imagination, this doesn’t mean that his first deduction was wrong; the fact that Mary’s lying trait is repeated later seems to indicate that it’s important. Mary might be lying about other things instead. Like, for example, about who’s the father of her baby. (Continued under the cut)

Some other deductions in this scene might also be significant; that Mary ‘bakes her own bread’ might refer to the idiom ‘a bun in the oven’, slang for being pregnant. A hint that John will not be responsible for her later pregnancy?

Another ‘feature of interest’ about Mary is her possible US connection. America is definitely a recurring theme in BBC Sherlock; the US or ‘America’ is referred to over 20 times throughout the show. These references occur on a plethora of different occasions, and in three specific circumstances the CIA is mentioned. In one of them (HLV) we learn from Magnussen that Mary has been doing “wet jobs for the CIA”. Sherlock also suspects that while Mary’s accent is English, Mary herself is not. So, Mary might have some kind of connection to America - at least in Sherlock’s mind. The idea is hinted at, but never developed.

Mary Morstan’s British background may be described in canon, but ACD’s original stories contain even more US references than BBC Sherlock. Big parts of the novels A Study in Scarlet (STUD) and The Valley of Fear (VALL) take place in America, and many characters have connections to the US - the most prominent of them perhaps Irene Adler in A Scandal in Bohemia (SCAN), who was born in New Jersey.

The Noble Bachelor (NOBL) is particularly interesting in this context. In the beginning of the story, Watson points out that it happened “a few weeks before my own marriage, during the days when I was still sharing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street”. I believe this talk of Watson’s marriage might be significant mirror-wise. The case in NOBL is about a bride - an American woman - who disappears directly after marrying the British nobleman Robert St. Simon, because she learns during the wedding ceremony that her beloved former husband, who she thought was dead, is still alive.

(X) The bride doesn’t reveal this during the wedding, but an hour later she is gone. So legally she was still married, and the new marriage to the nobleman would therefor be nullified - hence the story title of ‘bachelor’, I believe. On Lestrade’s questions about the case, Holmes answers:

“Just one hint to you, Lestrade,” drawled Holmes before his rival vanished; “I will tell you the true solution of the matter. Lady St. Simon is a myth. There is not, and there never has been, any such person.”

This is, more or less, the role I think Mary Watson plays in canon after SIGN; she’s a myth, a heteronormative façade (see reasoning in the first installment of this meta). In fact, I don’t think she ever appears in canon under the name Mary Watson (please correct me if I’m wrong). Now, if Sherlock’s deductions about Mary’s background in HLV would be true (in spite of all the other things about this episode that might be his mere imagination), that Mary Morstan is a false name and she has lied about her background, this would technically also nullify her marriage to John, wouldn’t it? You can hardly marry someone who doesn’t exist. ;)

There’s also a literal hint in TAB that Mary might soon be on the run, just like the bride in NOBL:

In this scene, in the midst of Sherlock’s Victorian Mind Palace dream, Watson is suddenly dressed as the modern John and seems more angry than worried about Mary’s disappearance. So I can’t help wondering: Does Sherlock foresee this outcome from his subconscious deductions about Mary and the baby?

A possibly vengeful bride

In TSoT we learn more about Martha Hudson’s late husband Frank, when Martha talks to both Sherlock and John separately about how “marriage changes you as a person”. Her marriage was like a “whirlwind” at first, which Martha felt “swept away” by. Her best friend Margaret seemed to have been devastated and left the wedding early. But we also learn that Frank Hudson ran a drug cartel, was sentenced for murder and had several other women, that Martha found out about after they had moved to Florida, USA. Martha was actually relieved when he was arrested for “blowing someone’s head off”. From ASiP we also know that Sherlock was the one who made sure Frank was executed (by lethal injection according to TSoT).

There seems to be something still missing from the plot narrative here, though; in what way was Frank’s death beneficial to Martha? And I can’t help wondering why the Frank Hudson case is even brought to our attention? Why give us these details that don’t quite make logical sense, and then nothing more? And why are we being told, again and again, that “marriage changes you as a person”?

In ACD canon there’s nothing about Mrs Hudson’s husband, as far as I know. There is, however, a sailor named Hudson in The Gloria Scott (GLOR), who comes to blackmail Holmes’ friend Victor Trevor’s father and threaten him with exposing him to public shame and dishonour by revealing his criminal past. Hudson manages to literally frighten Mr Trevor to death. In The Five Orange Pips (FIVE) there’s also a mentioning of someone named Hudson, who is associated with the KKK. So even if Mrs Hudson’s criminal husband in BBC Sherlock is non-canonical, the existence of at least two criminals named Hudson is clearly canon.

Anyway, what has all this to do with Mary? Well, this is very much speculation of course (and not originally my idea; I'm pretty sure someone has posted a theory about it - I just can’t find the reference at the moment. Please alert me if you know who, so I can give proper credits!): What if Mary is Frank Hudson’s daughter and her mother is one of those “other women”? And what if she’s out for some kind of revenge against Sherlock, who made sure her father was killed? After all, the whole Victorian part of TAB - which we know happens in Sherlock’s Mind Palace, where he goes back to solve a case by first solving an older one - is focused on vengeful brides (’Un-Dead’, as it seems - I see you there, Dracula! ;) ). The Emelia Ricoletti case also has clear connections to America.

Could Mary have hired a ‘consulting criminal’ (Jim) and got the advise that burning Sherlock’s heart out by marrying John would be the best way to take revenge on him? Or could she even be paid by Jim to fake a marriage?

Just speculating, as I said… :)

The revelation at the wedding

One of the strongest arguments for the baby not being John’s is, I think, the scene at the wedding reception in TSoT, where Sherlock deduces Mary’s pregnancy. At the revelation, both John and Mary look terrified, like they’ve seen a ghost or something:

Seeing as these guys had lived together at least for a year, their panic reaction doesn’t quite make sense to me - especially since they’re both trained in medicine! If Mary wasn’t even medically tested yet, why panic? Why would Sherlock’s ‘deduction’ seem more reliable to her than her own knowledge of the matter? After all, she had morning sickness. How many women in this world need a male detective (rather than a doctor) to tell them that they’re pregnant? I think Mary rather looks like someone being caught lying, with dire consequences to expect. John doesn’t expect this and seems totally shocked. Neither of them appears happy about the revelation. I think the sum of the couple’s reactions fits better into a scenario where Mary has been cheating on John, and is therefore not protesting at John’s negative behaviour regarding the pregnancy. But she knows she is (or might be) pregnant and has perhaps tried to hide it to John.

Mary is a smart person, and must definitely know what Sherlock actually means to John. She has seen his grieving for a long time and also witnessed his violent reaction once Sherlock returns. She even teases both John and Sherlock about their obsession with each other. Why isn’t she jealous? How can she go on and marry someone who is clearly in love with someone else, and who actually pays her very little attention in comparison? There’s something fishy there...

And what about John himself? There’s an entry on the blog where John Watson’s deductive reasoning skills seem to reach a new low mark (which is a bit strange, seeing as he has been working together with Sherlock Holmes for years at this point):

In short: Sherlock helps a same-sex couple to get together by showing one of them a path out of her arranged marriage. This woman has been threatened with exposure; an abusive person who is out for her money has literally blackmailed her to marry a man and choose a heteronormative life. But John’s conclusion is still this: “I swear that my forthcoming wedding has softened Sherlock.” “Naturally, I assumed it was because he saw me and Mary together and just wanted to make someone else happy.” So John is utterly convinced that his own, heterosexual marriage plans are what inspired Sherlock to help this gay couple out of an arranged, heteronormative marriage? Sherlock, who has been against all John’s girlfriends so far and also clearly stated from the beginning that girlfriends are “not really my area”? Good thinking, John -- not! :)))

And still John seems utterly surprised and terrified when his good, happily married heterosexual wife turns out to be pregnant, after living together with him for a year? Hmm...

Why the “why” is more important than the “how”

I’m going to go out on another tangent of speculation here, just to illustrate the extent to which I think heteronormativity increasingly rules this show, but also how I believe Sherlock’s and John’s emotions play into it. Even if Sherlock seems to have no prejudices regarding gay couples (as demonstrated by the blog case above), when it comes to John and him, I believe Sherlock has bought the hetero norm hook, sink and line. And ‘Mary’ is a metaphor for this, becoming more and more blatantly obvious as the show goes on. To Sherlock, she symbolises exactly “what John needs”: an ‘ordinary’ life and marriage with an interesting but ‘ordinary’ woman. But Sherlock’s subconscious is telling him something different about her, which I think he fails to fully recognise, no matter how much psychological evidence his mind collects.

And the main problem is Sherlock’s repression of emotions; this problem is at the same time cause and effect. His unwillingness to show or talk about his emotions towards John makes him appear as a cold-hearted person, mostly called a ‘sociopath’ or ‘psychopath’. Which makes John not want to risk the stigma of coming out, or even recognise his own feelings to himself. Adhering to the hetero norm is much safer, and it allows John to escape from his emotional dilemma in an unsatisfactory and hypocritical way: to marry a woman whom he hardly even knows. Which in turn makes Sherlock believe that John living with a woman is the only reasonable option. And so on and so forth, until eternity. The example below is from TEH, John’s reaction to Sherlock’s return.

JOHN: Now, you let me grieve, hmm? How could you do that?

Sherlock doesn’t respond to this, but tries to avert the question by talking about John’s moustache. What could John, in his highly emotional state, possibly make of this? This is where he becomes violent, and Sherlock doesn’t defend himself. John grabs Sherlock and punches him (which is confirmed by his blogpost about this: “He genuinely thought it would be funny to surprise me. I think he was more surprised when I nutted him.”). And it goes on and on:

JOHN: You know, for a genius you can be remarkably thick. SHERLOCK: What? JOHN: I don’t care how you faked it, Sherlock. I wanna know why.

I think John makes it very clear in TEH that - unlike Watson in canon’s EMPT - he is not interested to know how Sherlock survived the Fall. John doesn’t give a rat’s fart about the method he used to fake his own death, neither is he interested in knowing why Sherlock found it necessary to fake his death to Moriarty and his henchmen. But Sherlock doesn’t get this because the question is entirely emotional; John could just as well have asked ”Why did you force me to live without you for two years; why did you abandon me? Don’t you care about me, didn’t you even miss me?”. But he doesn’t ask this out loud, since neither of these guys are honest about their feelings - not even to themselves, as it seems. And apparently it totally escapes John’s conscious mind that Sherlock might have had an emotional reason to come back precisely to interrupt his proposal to someone else.

I suspect (speculation again) that the ‘why’ of John going on to marry Mary after Sherlock’s return was not only about convincing himself that he needed a “normal” life and submitting to the hetero norm because John is closeted. It was at least just as much about punishing Sherlock on an emotional level, letting this ‘sociopath’ know exactly how it feels to be abandoned, not knowing if the other even missed him. It was revenge and punishment in their eternal, on-going game with emotions, where neither of them is letting his guard down to show vulnerability towards the other. But this was probably subconscious and nothing John would freely admit to. Consciously, this arrangement allowed John to simply register that Sherlock apparently was fairly OK with things, since he even went on to organize John’s wedding. Thus, John could reason, his feelings for Sherlock couldn’t be requited anyway.

I also suspect, however, that the concept of ’Mary’, as we see this character from HLV and onwards, is Sherlock’s way of punishing himself for abandoning John. The wedding planning and the ‘vow’ in TSoT, in my view, was a very special sort of self-harm, where Sherlock tried to sacrifice himself to pay off his emotional debt for having hurt John, by doing his utmost for John to be happy with his choice.

But apparently this wasn’t enough, so when ‘Mary’ shoots Sherlock in HLV, even this is (supposedly) Sherlock’s own fault. I think ‘Mary’s shooting Sherlock symbolises the blow to the heart that Sherlock received on the wedding. But why was this a ‘blow’, one might ask, if Sherlock himself was prepared for the marriage and even helped planning the wedding? Well, there was a second blow on the wedding reception, wasn’t it? (Just as there were two murder attempts depicted in TSoT; one before the wedding and another during the wedding reception). The second blow was when Sherlock deduced Mary’s pregnancy. Because a child would most probably cement John’s relationship with Mary forever. Not only would the baby’s presence be an obstacle for John spending any time with Sherlock; it would also erase any attempt from Sherlock to confess his feelings to John in the future, since it would make him guilty of disrupting a family involving a third, innocent little person.

Mary definitely works as an internalised hetero norm. In his own view, Sherlock has no value, and he doesn’t deserve John. Thus, ’Mary’ is needed to keep John happy, and comes back to haunt Sherlock’s mind, even after she’s (supposedly) dead. No matter what atrocities she commits, ’Mary’ is always excused by Sherlock. In many ways, she’s the new ’Sherlock’: solving crimes, being passionate, leading John into adventures, using disguises, speaking (supposed) words of wisdom and even dressing like Sherlock. She fills in an empty space that Sherlock refuses to fill in himself, because a) he doesn’t consider himself worthy and b) he wants to avoid ‘Sentiment’. Instead of facing reality and try to do something about it, Sherlock tries to have a place in John’s life through ‘Mary’ and other invented avatars.

I think John makes it clear on his blog that he does not intend to forgive Sherlock any time soon: “Turns out he’d faked his death because Moriarty had threatened those close to him. Including me. He’d gone into hiding, happy to leave me and everyone else thinking he was dead. He’d done it to save us but he hadn’t trusted us enough to tell us what was really going on. Not sure I’ll ever truly forgive him for that but as the saying goes, life goes on.”

But then he’s back to talking about the cases and his own motivation to keep his friend after all: “So I ignored him and got on with my life. But God, it was dull. I knew he was back. I knew that he was out there having the time of his life and I was… working”. The image John gives is actually that he keeps hanging out with this ’sociopath’ for the sole reason that he can’t resist the danger, the ’thrill of the chase’. In other words; Sherlock seems to be right in HLV when he claims John to be a sort of adrenaline junkie who craves danger and therefore needs a dangerous wife (to replace Sherlock, who is not good for him because he’s a real junkie and a man to boot, but he doesn’t say this).

John’s ’deeper’ question of why rather than how in TEH (which doesn’t apply to Sherlock’s supposedly ’scientific’ world view where emotions always are a problem risking to bias his conclusions) has its complete repetition in TLD. Once again Sherlock tries to convince John that he can predict the future. Sherlock expects to impress John with the explanation of how:

JOHN: How did you know?

In fact, I think a great deal of what we see in TLD is Sherlock’s mental repetitions of what happened between him and John after his ‘return from the dead’ in TEH. However, in TLD (as in all the episodes from S3 and onwards) John is not impressed by Sherlock’s intellectual shenanigans; he hasn’t seemed to be for a long time, but especially not after the treason Fall. In TLD John may have started by asking “how”, but in the end he just wants to know why Sherlock has lured him to come to his rescue when he’s in trouble.

JOHN: Never mind how. He’s dying to tell us that. I want to know why.

Sherlock tries to explain that he needs John’s help with a case because he ‘can’t do it alone’. But John doesn’t buy it this time either; his disbelief and judgment of Sherlock is even harder and more emphasised than in TEH. And this is, i believe, the key question; to answer it honestly Sherlock has to talk about his feelings, show his emotional vulnerability. Which he still isn’t ready for. So this is why ‘Mary’ and 'Rosie’ keep popping up until the end of TFP; they stand for Sherlock’s heteronormative alibi to avoid talking about feelings. Even if Sherlock comes a long way with hugging John in TLD and hugging Eurus in TFP - basically to comfort them - he still hasn’t told anybody about his own feelings, has he?

Sherlock ’had chips’ with ’Faith’. (Dinner!) But we never see him eat anything, he just goes on impressing Faith by telling her about how his deductions about her private life work. It’s the scientific ”how” rather than the more emotional ”why”.

I’ve also been wondering about Mary’s traveling around the world in TST, ’on the role of a dice’ when she learns that Ajay is after her. This is the cold assassin who tried to kill Sherlock and lied to her husband about her background, and yet she is suddenly ”moving the target away” from John - why? In HLV Mary claimed that the truth would break John and therefore he could never know that she lied to him. What’s actually going on here? To me this seems more like Sherlock trying to justify to himself his own fake suicide and his following absence for two years in order to ’protect John’ from Moriarty’s network. The whole ‘Mary-the-hero’ plot line is an indulgence in Sentiment, complete with self-sacrifice and a tearful self-absolving note. But this over-romanticized scenario gives Sherlock no satisfaction, since it ends with John’s grief and sorrow and alienation. Conclusive discovery: escape is no solution; it just postpones the problem.

OK, this has been a looong meta, and a bit speculative. For the finish, I’d just like to summarise a bit about Hypothesis #8 and why I suspect that John is not the father of Mary’s baby. Here’s my TL;DR:

John wasn’t even aware on the wedding that Mary might be pregnant - and he’s a ‘bloody doctor’!

None of them seems happy when Sherlock deduces Mary’s pregnancy; Mary appears shocked that he noticed it and John seems shocked before the unexpected task of fathering a child

Their relationship doesn’t strike me as honest and genuine on either side; they’re not really into each other

Mary is a liar who conceals her background to John

It’s suspicious (but also canon consistent) that Mary encourages John to spend a lot of time with someone she should know that he’s in love with; why would she want to start a family with such a guy?

David seems to remain too close to Mary for being an ordinary ‘ex’; he might actually be the father of the baby!

The Watsons have no children in canon

Rosie in S4 doesn’t strike me as a real character (Mary’s pregnancy in S3 might still be ‘real’, though)

The whole concept of John’s wife is a heteronormative façade (which goes for canon as well); why then would John’s fatherhood be real?

And, finally, just one more thing that occurs to me:

The baby is a perfect plot device to keep John and Mary together in a modern time when divorce is common, and also to keep Sherlock guilt-ridden about confessing his feelings. A revelation that John is not the father would likely mean a breakup of the couple, with the possibilities that this would open for the ‘Johnlock’ option. ;)

Thanks for bearing with me in meta-marathon, and Happy New Decade! :)

Tagging some people who might be interested: @raggedyblue @ebaeschnbliah @sarahthecoat @gosherlocked @loveismyrevolution @sagestreet @thepersianslipper @tjlcisthenewsexy @elldotsee @88thparallel @sherlock-overflow-error @yeah-oh-shit

#mary=heteronormativity #mary=facade

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prism-sakura-s · 4 years

Text

Peaceful Insomnia

Warnings: death (although they’re technically resurrected after they die), descriptions of violence (but it’s nothing too graphic), drowning mention, suicide mention

AO3

Summary: After failing to fall asleep, Logan decides to venture up to the terrace, where an unexpected character awaits him.

A/N: Something for a small Valhalla AU I made up a while back :)

Logan carefully opened the door out to Floor 209 of Hotel Valhalla, wary of any possible witnesses. He stepped out and closed the door behind him. The moon shone outside the single window at the end of the hall, acting as the only source of light. Logan slowly crept towards the elevators and entered one. He pressed the button engraved with a single black "T". The doors closed and the elevator began to climb.

It was not unusual for Logan to be unable to sleep, but it wasn't common either. However, on nights like this he would normally do something else to pass the time, seeing as he took his insomnia as a sign of excess energy he needed to dispel. He would read, write, or think out battle plans and strategies just in case. Or "for fun", as Roman would tease. Logan always insisted otherwise, though.

"Nah, it's thy giant brain of yours, is it not?" Roman would jest anyway. "Too much intellect for your brawn-less person to handle?"

Logan still had no idea why and how he befriended a British fool from the 16th century who cried about Shakespeare's death every night and refused to adapt to the modern day tongue, though it was most likely Logan forgot. He wasn't exactly new either.

Logan also wasn't sure why he decided to do something different for a change. Was he feeling especially restless tonight? Was it to be more adventurous? Has his idiot friend's actions finally gotten to his head? Or was it purely to try something new and hoped it eased his mind a bit more than just putting it to work as always? He hoped it was the latter. Never in a million years was he going to morph into a clone of Roman. Though honestly, that was left up to debate. No one knows how long they're going to be staying there anyway.

The elevator dinged as it arrived at its destination. The doors opened and Logan stepped out onto the terrace. It was much brighter here as the moon had direct contact. It shone onto the swimming pool and the shrubbery lining the perimeter. A bench sat a couple feet away from the edge, looking out onto the Grove of Glasir. And to Logan's surprise, a hunched figure already sat atop it.

Logan debated on whether or not he should leave and let the figure remain unbothered, or if he should join them. However, as he was deciding this, the figure suddenly turned and spotted Logan standing in front of the elevator.

Logan, noticing a pair of hazel eyes trained directly on him, panicked, and decided to speak: "Um, sorry if I bothered you, uh, I can go if you want-"

"Nah, dude, it's fine," the other interrupted. "You can sit with me if you like, I don't bite."

Logan relaxed at that.

"Well," Logan began, walking towards the bench, "I would be very surprised if you did, people normally do not exhibit the mannerisms of feral animals."

The stranger stared at Logan as he sat down, processing his dialogue and taking in his pinstriped pajamas before looking back up at the sky. "Huh. You must be an older one, right?"

Logan scrunched up his nose. "Yes, I suppose I am. Though I'm not exactly enthusiastic at the choice of words."

The other male chuckled, offending Logan a bit. "Yeah, I guess nobody would really like to be called 'old', huh?" He looked over at Logan with a small smile on his face. "Especially when you're not really old."

Logan nodded. "The immortality and the... Norse Gods... are a lot to get used to."

The other nodded in agreement and continued stargazing. Logan recognized this person. He had been admitted at the hotel several weeks ago for defending a girl from some kelpie. Why Logan remembered him so clearly when other einherji would fade from his mind in at least a few days, he didn't know.

Seems Logan had a lot of questions.

"If you don't mind me asking, you are one of the newer ones, yes? Virgil Santos?"

"Yep," Virgil confirmed. "You're...?"

"Logan. That was incredibly chivalrous of you."

Virgil only shrugged. "Strong choice of words, but yeah, that's the point, I guess. You're brave, you get into Valhalla."

"Well, that wasn't all, was it? You stopped her too."

Virgil didn't respond for a while. When he finally spoke, he only uttered a quiet, "Not really."

Logan was confused. "What do you mean? You did stop her from jumping off the bridge, did you not?"

Virgil bowed his head and was silent for a long amount of time.

"When the kelpie dragged me down, she went down to the dock to rescue me," Virgil finally answered. "I tried finding out what happened to her after I died. Turns out she..." He paused again, as if trying to hide his sadness behind silence. "She was dragged down soon after I was."

"Oh," Logan could only mutter. "I am sorry."

"Don't be," Virgil reassured. "There was nothing either of us could do."

Out of the blue, Virgil took a deep breath and began to sing quietly, "What will happen will happen, whether I'm happy or sad. What will happen will happen, whether I'm happy or sad. There are days to look out for, there are dreams to be had, what will happen will happen, whether I'm happy or sad..."

Logan was not expecting that. He was mesmerized, to say the least. Virgil's voice reminded him of the women who sang in the bars, whose voices were velvety and as smooth as silk.

Virgil saw Logan staring, and his eyes widened, as if he had just realized what he had done. He flushed. "Sorry, I just wanted to sing something... normally it helps me take my mind off things..."

"Huh? Oh, no," Logan rushed to say. "It-it was good. Nerts."

There was a beat of silence before Virgil broke out into giggles. Logan hated the fact that his face felt like it was on fire. His old slang had slipped. It probably sounded ridiculous to Virgil. He was laughing at him right now.

"Sorry," Virgil managed to force through his giggles, "It's just... nerts?" He had another fit (His giggles do not have to be that cute, Logan thought during this interval) before continuing, "What is nerts?"

"It's just a word... from my time," Logan muttered, too embarassed to say it any louder. "It just means I was... impressed."

Not the exact translation, but close enough.

The giggle fits stopped.

Oh no, Logan thought. I have done something wrong, haven't I?

He slowly looked at Virgil, who was staring back at him with wide eyes.

"Really?" Virgil asked sheepishly. "That was impressive?"

Well then, Logan resigned, I suppose I have to admit it now.

"Yes." Good, short and simple.

"Actually-"

Wait no-

"-it reminded me of the singers back at the bars downtown."

Goddammit Logan, can you not keep your trap shut?

Virgil stared at Logan for a bit before smiling and bowing his head shyly. "Thanks, nobody ever compliments me."

"That seems to be an oversight over their part," Logan said. Virgil's smile grew, as did Logan's sense of accomplishment.

"You know," Virgil said, going back to observing the stars, "I did consider doing the same thing that... girl was going to do. Nobody really cared about me, I didn't have anywhere to go, so... I decided I was going to do it sooner or later."

"You were going to jump off the bridge too?" Logan asked, mildly incredulous.

"Yeah," Virgil said. "Then I saw her, and for some reason... I wanted to stop her. I thought, 'No, she shouldn't do that,' and at that split second I also realized... if I didn't want this girl to jump, then someone out there... wouldn't want me to either."

"I'm sure of it," Logan assured him. "That was a good decision you made."

There was silence. A croak was heard from the bushes, followed by another.

"Tell me about your time."

"Hm?" Logan realized he was staring again and snapped out of it. He should stop doing that.

"Your time. Where you came from."

"Oh. Well." Logan looked up, trying to organize his thoughts neatly.

"I was born in 1902 in the South as Lucille Hampton. My momma- er, mother, and I moved up to the North in the early 20s. She managed to get a job at a bar as an entertainer. She sang for the customers. I managed to get ahold of books too. A friend of mine volunteered to teach me how to read.

"I never really went to any bar or speakeasy though. My body could never handle alcohol. No, I only went to one major event and one event only—the drag ball."

"Drag balls?" Virgil asked, intrigued. "You went to drag balls?"

"Yes, I did." Logan leaned back, a smile on his face. "That's where I got my friends. It was the only time I could be myself. I could even mingle among white people freely. Some spectators would watch us from above, but we wouldn't care. We would just dance, and… kiss, and have a good time."

"That sounds nice," Virgil mused. "Did you have… anyone?"

Logan thought for a bit before responding, "Well, there was one man, but we never really took it far. It was just for fun, I guess."

Virgil nodded slowly, pondering something, and asked, "How did you die, if you don't mind?"

Logan's smile disappeared as he remembered. Virgil saw this and immediately backtracked.

"Oh, well, if you don't want to say it's alright with me you don't have t-"

"No, no, it's quite alright," Logan said. "You told me your story, it's only fair I tell you mine."

Logan sat up straight again. Virgil watched intently, a soft and almost concerned look on his face.

"It was after a drag party," Logan began, "and my pals were quite zozzled-" He caught himself. "Drunk. They were drunk."

"It's fine if you use your old slang," Virgil said.

Logan looked at him. He got a small nod in return, as well as a comforting smile.

"Well, we passed an alley and we saw something." Logan fidgeted with his thumbs. The scene came back to him, a little blurry but still distinguishable. "We decided to move forward, see what was going on. It was a couple of white men, beating up another black guy. I tried to interfere, but..."

Logan heard the voices now, random sentences from that night replaying like a dirty record.

"Hey, stop!"

That was his voice.

"Who's this egg? A bulldigger?"

"They turned on me. Called me all the usual things, since I wore a suit..."

Loud, boisterous laughter. Taunts and slurs, all directed at him. Logan saw their previous victim slowly get up and try to crawl away. At least he's safe.

"My friends tried to pull me away, but I..."

Logan felt hands clawing at his shoulders, trying to pull him back. But he was stubborn. He shrugged them off and threw a punch towards the leader, determined to at least break something.

"...I wanted to fight."

Logan's fist collided with the bully's face. His hand may have hurt more than the guy's face, but Logan didn't care. He punched him. That was an achievement.

"So I did. I pulled punches, I tried kicking them. Soon my pals were joining in. I thought I could keep it up forever."

His adrenaline coursed through his entire body. It was chaos, and Logan loved it, maybe more than he was supposed to.

"I couldn't."

But then he felt something. A force more powerful than he had ever felt before. It was blinding. Logan wasn't even sure where it hit him. The pain traveled through his body and suddenly, Logan was aware of how frail it was.

Logan chuckled dryly. "Honestly, I don't think my melee spree lasted even a minute."

There was a tug on the collar of Logan's suit. He felt himself being lifted up.

"Someone picked me up, I believe it was the leader-"

Logan felt a trickle down his chin. He felt groggy and light-headed. He still heard grunts and shouts, signifying that the fight was still going on, churning around him like an angry sea. Or a hurricane. And he was in the eye.

"-and laughed in my face. He told me only men can fight."

"You think you can fight, little girl?" he taunted.

"I... ain't a girl," Logan protested weakly.

The bimbo snickered. "Tell that to Sweeney, bulldiker. You know only men can fight." He laughed loudly, resonating in Logan's ears.

"He punched me in the face... and threw me on the ground."

Sharp pain penetrated Logan's body, seeming to come from everywhere. He heard several loud crackles before passing out.

"...that's it?"

"That's it."

"Wait," Virgil said carefully, trying not to overstep any boundaries, "you died by being thrown on the ground? How?"

"Well, I had a fragile body," Logan explained. "He probably broke all my bones, and I wasn't healed in time."

"Ah," Virgil intoned. "Okay then... so after that, you woke up at Valhalla."

"That I did."

"So... you died because you wanted to prove yourself." Virgil nodded understandably. "You were so pressured to prove you were male that you were willing to fight someone, though they clearly outmatched you. You also wanted to protect that guy who they were beating up."

Logan nodded.

"...so what did you do once you got here?"

"I was confused and frightened, for one," Logan explained. "They weren't even sure if bringing me in was a good idea. But they kept me in the end. So I trained. Not just in combat, but in strategy as well. I learned, and I learned quickly. Befriended someone new too. Roman, some idiot from Britain."

Logan heard a snicker from Virgil at that, and a warm feeling surfaced.

“Thanks for sharing your story, Logan,” Virgil said. “I’m… very sorry you died like that.”

“It’s quite alright,” Logan said. “It was decades ago, I have become much better now.”

Virgil sighed inwardly. He glanced at the moon. "I hope I can... I dunno, survive? Here? I just..." A pause. "I dunno if I can live up to their standards. A building-" he gestured wildly, "-full of warriors, and intelligent people, like you-" he gestured to Logan, who blushed involuntarily, "-and me, some guy who managed to run into murder horses."

“You defended a girl against those, quote, ‘murder horses,’ unquote,” Logan argued. “You have as much of a right to be here as any of us.”

“How do you know?” Virgil muttered.

“Our stories are similar,” Logan noted. “We both rushed to protect someone’s life, even if they were a stranger, and were killed trying to do so.”

Virgil was silent.

“If you do not belong in Hotel Valhalla, then going by that logic, I do not either.”

“You do deserve to be here,” Virgil said quickly.

Logan gave Virgil a knowing look. The latter saw this, and after a while, cracked a smile.

“Alright, I guess you got me there,” Virgil chuckled. He allowed himself to relax again and focus on the sky. “I guess we all have tragic backstories here, huh?”

Logan smiled, relieved that his companion was glad once more. “Yes, I believe we do.”

“Maybe that’s the real requirement for getting into Valhalla,” Virgil jested. He mimicked writing in the air. “‘Must have sad cause of death. No murder, no entry.’”

Logan laughed softly at the joke.

It would be a while before sleep would come back and bring him back to his room, but as of now? Logan wouldn’t mind if he spent all night on the terrace with Virgil Santos.

A/N: I'm thinking of making more for this AU because I love Norse Mythology and the concept in general, so please feel free to give a few suggestions!

Taglist: @fandomfan315

#sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #analogical #platonic analogical #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts logan #ts virgil #valhalla au #lilyywrites

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