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regenderate-fic · 2 years

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Blooming in the Bitter Snow (Right Before the Dawn)

Fandom: Doctor Who Ships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan Characters: Thirteenth Doctor, Yasmin Khan Rating: General Word Count: 3,636 Other Tags: Revolution of the Daleks, References to Greek Myth, Doctor Who: Flux, Character Study, Pre-Relationship

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Summary: After ten months, the Doctor is like the sun: too bright to look at. Yaz knows this will happen again-- but then, the Doctor knows too.

NOTES: this is a birthday gift for katniss but i guess the rest of you can read it too. it is also retribution for getting me into hadestown. anyway happy birthday ❤️❤️❤️

(and shoutout to gabe riptheh for betaing if it's bad you have to blame him for not telling me)

title is from hadestown

(hehe note from december felix katniss and i saw hadestown and it FUCKED. don't ask me about reeve carney do ask me about grace yoo)

Yaz is stuck.

Yesterday, she had the universe.

Today, she has Sheffield.

It’s not that Sheffield is bad. Yaz had always lived here, and it's always been fine. She used to like it here, even. Back when she was younger. Back before she knew there were any other options.

But now— there's nothing wrong with Sheffield. It's just not where she wants to be.

She’s back living with her family. Sonya’s taken over her room, so she’s living in Sonya’s, with its awful orange paint and childhood belongings scattered about.

It doesn’t matter, though. Yaz is never home. She’s not at work, either— she quit her job a month ago, in linear time, but it feels like years.

The thing is, though, the stolen, unfamiliar TARDIS has become home and work, as far as Yaz is concerned. At first, it’s because Ravio and Ethan are living there, and Yaz is helping them get sorted with a job for Ravio and a school for Ethan and a proper place to stay for them both— every cell in her body is screaming, Find the Doctor , but Yaz forces herself to focus on the people right in front of her who need help before she goes off in search of someone else. It’s what the Doctor would do, after all.

But then Ravio finds a job, and then a flat, and he and Ethan move out to start their new lives on Earth, and Yaz is stuck. Ryan’s finally gotten a job as a mechanic, and Graham is settling into retirement, but Yaz can’t move past this: the stolen TARDIS, offensive in its blankness. The Doctor, currently defined by the space she’s left behind. And the question: why hasn’t the Doctor come back for her?

Ryan keeps trying to suggest jobs she could get. A social worker, he says, when she’s helping Ravio and Ethan get on their feet. Or a teacher, when she explains Earth history to them. It’s the day the two of them leave, when Ryan suggests Yaz go to school to become a psychologist, that she snaps.

“I’m not giving up on her,” she says, but her voice rises until says becomes shouts, her boots planted on the firm white floor.

“All right, then.” Ryan raises his hands in surrender. “Don’t bite my head off. Just, you know, it’s not all or nothing. You can look for her while you do other stuff.”

Yaz shakes her head, single-minded. “I have to find her.”

Ryan stares at her for another moment, and then he shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says. “We’ll be around.”

He doesn't offer to help. Yaz doesn't expect him to. Her relationship to the Doctor is— it's different. Ryan and Graham joke around with her, jumping from adventure to adventure. And Yaz likes the jokes, likes the adventures, but— she also likes the late nights wandering the TARDIS until she finds the Doctor in her workshop, tinkering away, and sits on one of the benches as the Doctor narrates her work, occasionally looking up and giving Yaz a bright and earnest grin. She likes the serious moments, when the Doctor meets her eyes and, somehow, makes a tough situation a tiny bit better, just by acknowledging it. She likes seeing the Doctor every day, just knowing she's around. She still can't quite quantify why exactly her relationship with the Doctor is different from Ryan's, but she knows, keenly, that it is.

Ryan leaves, and Yaz gets to work. She's seen the Doctor pilot the TARDIS—she’s picked up a few of the basics. This console looks completely different, but she thinks she recognizes a few of the levers: not well enough to launch herself into the vortex, and definitely not well enough to choose where to land, but well enough that she has a place to start.

The next day, she goes out and buys a pack of sticky notes, three different colors of paper, and rolls of tape.

At first, it’s almost fun— through the haze of her determination, she vaguely processes the joy she usually takes in a good puzzle, having a problem in front of her to solve. She identifies as many of the controls as she can, marking them with sticky notes, taping her notes up on the walls.

It’s only after she’s identified everything she can that the hopelessness sets in. She’s labeled twelve different buttons and levers, but she’s only sure of three of them, and there are countless more. Time travel is complicated, she knows, and dangerous, and it’s already been three months without the Doctor before she’s even managed to start this project. Linear time is ticking away, and the rest of time, the convoluted path only the TARDIS can navigate, remains elusive.

But Yaz can’t give up. She can’t bear the thought of it: going back to her normal life, finding a job she only sort of didn’t hate, leaving the Doctor behind. Especially when the Doctor could be in trouble, in need of the rescue that Yaz is desperate to provide.

So she keeps going. Methodical, she goes lever by lever, button by button, categorizing, speculating, experimenting. As long as she doesn’t hit the lever that’ll actually launch the TARDIS, she figures, she’ll be fine, and so she lets herself poke and prod, taking constant and careful notes.

(It’s pointless. She knows, deep down, it’s pointless. Either the Doctor will come back or she won’t, and there’s not much Yaz can do about it. She’s no Time Lord— she doesn’t know how to pilot a TARDIS. Not really. But if she doesn’t keep trying, she’ll sink deeper into her grief, and she can’t bear the thought. So she tries, again and again, a high-tech Sisyphus, pushing her rock up the hill until it falls.)

Weeks pass. Months.

Every day, Yaz misses the Doctor more.

Ryan and Graham are still worried about her. Her family are worried about her, too, and doubly so because they don't know the truth about the Doctor or time travel or anything else— they only know that Yaz is looking worse with every passing day.

She can’t bring herself to care. She feels numb, dead to the world, anytime she’s not working on the TARDIS. She’s already written off this time— when the Doctor comes back (she has to come back), it will be like this never happened. It will be ghost time, time that passed, but didn’t.

And then, just when Yaz is sure she can’t bear it any longer, there’s the Dalek. Instantly, Yaz shifts her focus: it’s the same as before, with Ethan and Ravio. Even with her burning, desperate need to see the Doctor again, the safety of other people— the safety of the world — comes first.

She’s at Ryan’s and Graham’s kitchen table when she hears it. The most wonderful sound in the universe. Papers are blowing, Yaz’s hair is coming loose, and her eyes slip shut. It feels like she’s ascending, being lifted up through the fog that’s overtaken her in the last ten months— walking up from the Underworld, ready to see the light of the sun.

When she opens her eyes, the TARDIS is there. Steadfast, blue, letters glowing gently.

The door opens.

Yaz is so close to the daylight—

But the second the Doctor steps out of the TARDIS, the second the Doctor’s eyes land on her, her hope crashes into anger, and she’s fallen right back down onto the dirt.

“We were worried about you!”

Ten months. She’s been waiting ten months. It’s felt like the longest winter of her life— and now she’s red hot, burning with the fury of having been left behind.

Even if it’s not the Doctor’s fault.

Even if she knows, full well, the TARDIS is unreliable.

Even if under all the fury, there’s a quieter warmth, a warmth she’d been taking for granted back when the Doctor was around, blooming in her chest and skating across her skin.

(The fury dissipates, somewhat, when she brings the Doctor into the blank white TARDIS, when she sees the Doctor’s mouth drop open as she takes in the notes tacked up on the walls. It drops entirely when the Doctor looks at her with hope-filled eyes and asks if she’s coming along. “Two hearts,” she says. “One happy, one sad,” and Yaz will miss Ryan and Graham, but she can’t help but feel the sun golden on her face when she thinks she’s responsible for the happy heart.)

(The problem, of course, is that Yaz is very, very sure this will happen again. They lead dangerous lives, after all. And the TARDIS is unreliable.)

(The problem, of course, is that tragedy is a cycle.)

Intermission

The TARDIS is just the same as Yaz remembers, with a few exceptions. Steps in the console room, for example. And her room has changed slightly— evolved, perhaps, to fit the new version of Yaz that has emerged from the last ten months. Her bedspread has gone from purple to a red-brown, and the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling have gone from cartoonish to nearly photorealistic, swirling in fluorescent galaxies when she turns the lights off. She collapses into her bed, curling up immediately— she never sleeps as well at home as she does in the Doctor’s TARDIS.

The next morning, she practically runs into the console room, not even trying to suppress her smile. The Doctor is already there, writing in a little notebook, and she turns around when Yaz steps closer, her eyes sparkling.

“Good morning,” Yaz says, suddenly shy. She hasn’t been alone with the Doctor in the TARDIS before. Or— she has, in the sense that they’ve been the only two in the room, but she hasn’t, in the sense that Ryan and Graham have technically always been on board with them, even if they were far out of earshot. It feels different, now there's no chance of Graham wandering in with his tea, or Ryan poking his head through the door to ask if they want to play a video game.

“Morning, Yaz!” the Doctor exclaims. She’s back to her usual bouncy self, of course— she never reveals her sadness for long. “Was waiting for you to wake up.”

Yaz smiles. “What’s in the notebook?”

The Doctor returns her smile with a grin. “How would you like to learn to fly the TARDIS?”

Yaz steps forward, barely believing her ears.

“You mean it?”

The Doctor nods, expectant. An impossible joy rises in Yaz's throat, threatens to spill out her eyes. Maybe, she thinks, it won’t be a cycle after all.

Yaz watches, and the Doctor turns to stone.

She can’t help but feel like her watching is what does it. Even though plenty of others are looking on, immobilizing the Doctor as wings sprout from her back.

The angels’ weakness is in their observation, after all, and Yaz keeps watching the Doctor, even when she shouldn't.

She almost dies, lunging forward, desperately reaching. It’s Dan who saves her, pulls her back, keeps her from her death.

And that's how she falls for a second time.

It’s different, this time. Less familiar, for one: it’s a hundred years before she was born, in a time when half of England is still using chamber pots, and everything feels strange.

But— the other difference is the Doctor.

She hasn’t left Yaz alone, this time.

Yaz feels the difference the second she and Dan and Jericho and Peggy get back to the village, before she even finds the hologram. She’s already composing a game plan in her mind, just like the Doctor would: get food. Get money. Get period-appropriate clothing. Find a way back to the Doctor.

It’s not until that night that her left hand drops into her pocket and meets cool metal, tugging it out to see the trapped crystal and smooth ridges of an unfamiliar device.

Hope wells up in Yaz. Or— not quite hope. Love , she realizes. Love, because whatever this is, it has to be from the Doctor, and that means the Doctor cared enough about her to leave her— well, to leave her something, even if she hasn't figured out what.

She will find her way back this time.

She doesn’t have a TARDIS, but over the last ten months, she’s learned to trust herself: she’s learned high gravity circus arts, bluffed her way through a peace treaty to rescue the Doctor from a hostage situation, and, in one memorable occasion, defused an actual bomb with one second left on the clock. She’s not the Doctor, but she is good.

By the time they’ve spent two weeks in the empty village, Yaz even has a plan. She’ll spread messages to the Doctor throughout the time period, hoping one of them makes it to the future. Might even try and make one big and permanent enough that the Doctor will see it from space in 2021. And while they’re doing that, Yaz will look for traces of time travel in the 1900’s: the Doctor isn’t the only time traveler out there, she knows, and someone is bound to have abandoned a bit of technology somewhere on Earth. Dan and Jericho are on board— they’re a little taken aback by her fervor, she can tell, but they want to get home.

The hologram, of course, changes everything. It activates when Yaz is doing laundry, her arms burning with the effort of using a washboard. She’s been keeping it in her pocket, her one relic of the Doctor, when suddenly she hears a muffled voice.

The Doctor’s muffled voice.

She pulls the hologram out of her pocket, mouth hanging open, and watches as the Doctor, golden, untouchable, appears in front of her.

Yaz stares at her.

She stares back.

Except— she's not really staring at Yaz, is she? She's staring at the hologram— the hologram that represents Yaz— and—

Has the Doctor been looking at her like this this whole time? With so much emotion in her eyes? Or is she only looking like this because Yaz isn't really there, because it's safe? Yaz is afraid to call the look loving , not when the consequences for being wrong involve the bitterest disappointment, but her breath catches in her throat anyway.

She misses the Doctor. More than anything.

For the next four years, she travels the world. She realizes, at some point in there, that she’s changing— she’s growing into someone new, someone separate from the Doctor, separate from Sheffield, separate from her family and the 21st century. It’s strange. Change is inevitable, of course, but the person she’s becoming is so shaped by the 20th century— shaped by the fashion and the technology and the social rules. She's gotten used to cobblestone streets and horse-drawn buses and traveling miles on rickety trains only to arrive somewhere with no electricity or plumbing, and she has to wonder— when she gets back to the Doctor, to the TARDIS and the convenience of 21st century life, will she even still fit? She still has her smartphone, tucked in a corner of her luggage, and it might even have a little bit of charge left. But she doesn't know, because she hasn’t tried to turn it on in months. She reads newspapers now, anytime she can get her hands on them. She knows how to book tickets by mail to sail abroad, even when her address isn’t quite fixed. She can lace her own corset and do her own hair in the complicated styles of the day, and after a few months of wearing impractical skirts and itchy collars, she’s finally found clothes that suit her. She’s formed an identity for herself, in this era, an identity that’s completely hers.

And yet, she doesn’t belong.

It’s not her era. It’s temporary, she knows it is. She will see the Doctor again. She will go home. And if she doesn’t belong in Sheffield anymore— well, she’ll have the TARDIS, all of time and space, to help her readjust.

It does remind her of the ten months. She says as much to Dan and Jericho, detailing those awful days and nights spent in the wrong console room. She’s got the same dull sense of detachment, the same laser focus on the Doctor.

But… it’s different now. She knows what she has to do, and she knows how to do it. Even if she’s still not sure how she’s going to get back to the Doctor— even if some days, her mission is just, “Keep Dan and Jericho alive.” She's figured out how to fake it, how to act like she knows what she's doing, and slowly she realizes she actually knows. Maybe she knew this whole time. She manages to smooth-talk all three of them onto ship after ship, she manages to bandage a gash in Dan's arm with a piece of her own corset cover while camping deep in the woods, she manages to dispose of a dead body without a second thought. She's always prided herself on doing the things that need to be done, after all— if those things have evolved from tricky homework assignments and white lies to her parents to wilderness medicine and corpse disposal, well, that hardly matters. It's still got to be done.

And, of course, she has the hologram. A ghost of the Doctor, keeping her company. Or maybe Yaz is the ghost, stuck in the past— it’s hard to tell, sometimes. Although— she doesn’t feel dead, this time. Not like before, when she barely went through the motions of keeping herself alive, when she did the same tests on the unfamiliar TARDIS every day until it became familiar but still impenetrable. She’s no longer a high-tech Sisyphus— she’s Odysseus, maybe, displaced in time as well as space, and sailing the high seas in the hopes of making it home. Odysseus has a crew, has control.

Yaz always said she wanted to be in charge.

She’s in charge now, leading Dan and Jericho through a convoluted set of tunnels. Technically Dan’s the one who knows the tunnels best, but they’re all used to Yaz being in the lead, and it’s a hard habit to break. So she’s in front, trying not to let herself hope too hard, trying to tamp down the feeling that she’s walking upward again, out of the Underworld, towards the 21st century sunlight. It’ll hurt too much if she’s wrong— if she falls again— but—

But she’s right.

There’s a door to 2021.

After four years of searching, it turns out it’s as easy as stepping across a threshold, swapping one tunnel for another. Yaz almost cries when she sees the modern font on clean plastic mounted to the wall, part of a museum display— and again when she sees the TARDIS, solid, stalwart. If it weren’t for the stranger in front of her, blocking her, Yaz would be running right to it, opening the doors, flying away.

The good news is she doesn't have to. The Doctor appears, suddenly, miraculously, and when the Doctor appears—

She’s like the sun. She really is. Yaz has finally made it up to the Earth's surface, and now, after years in the darkness, she feels light again. The universe is ending, but the light is soft on Yaz's face.

For a split-second, she’s afraid of the Doctor seeing her. She remembers last time— standing in Graham’s living room, full of hope and whispered prayer, but then the Doctor looked at her, and the hope crashed into anger, plunging her back into a roiling darkness.

But things are different now.

When the Doctor looks at Yaz— it’s like she sees her. She sees everything. Yaz is mesmerized. She can’t look away.

There’s a lot going on, and the Doctor is frenetic, distracted, but she still takes a moment to pull Yaz into a hug, and the way she melts into Yaz’s body, just for a second, brings Yaz completely back to life, heals any lingering wounds, if only for the moment. And then the way she looks at Yaz when she asks if she’s okay—

She does look at Yaz like that, then, even when it’s not a hologram, when there’s no time or space between the look and its recipient.

Or at least, she does now.

(The problem with tragedy is that it’s a cycle, and the problem with cycles, of course, is that they can be broken.)

Coda

Yaz steps into the console room. She’s back in 21st century clothes— slipping into the world of the living, finding her foothold.

The Doctor, standing at the console, straightens up. She looks tired, a weight in her shoulders and in the droop of her eyelids. Her eyes meet Yaz’s, and Yaz feels the corners of her lips rising into a smile.

The Doctor smiles back. Not one of her big showy grins— no. She’s not performing right now. This smile is genuine. It’s real.

“I really did miss you,” she says, her voice soft.

“You, too.” Yaz is awkward, suddenly. She’s forgotten how she used to act around the Doctor. In four years, she’s been an adventurer, she’s been a friend, she’s been a codebreaker and a sailor. But she hasn’t been a copilot.

There’s an awkward silence, stilted in the presence of all their time apart, everything they haven’t said.

“I was thinking,” Yaz blurts out. “We should invite Dan along. He was a good sport, back in the 20th century.”

The Doctor nods. There’s a shift in her demeanor, a flickering of a light, and she’s back at the console.

“Brilliant idea, Yasmin Khan,” she says, and Yaz’s stomach flutters to hear the Doctor say her name again.

“Copilot?” she asks.

And at the Doctor’s responding grin, she knows she’s back home.

#doctor who #thasmin #thirteen x yaz #character study #references to greek myth #revolution of the daleks #doctor who flux #pre-relationship #short

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displayheartcode · 7 months

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Shuffle your favorite playlist and post the first five songs that come up. Then copy/paste this ask to your favorite mutuals.

the playlist for my fic this love left a permanent mark

now let's talk music!

are we falling in love by madilyn bailey

The panic in my mind is getting louder And I can't stop it now, and I can't drop it out This wasn't a part of the plan The point of no return is getting closer And I can't stand it how you're all I think about This one's gonna force my hand

every story of mine - fic and original - that features friendship slowly turning into love has this song in the playlist.

in my mind, this song is featured most heavily in sixth year, especially when they try dancing together at slughorn's christmas party. it's a fun contrast from the yule ball because this time they're almost on the same page. gideon's feeling like an emotional wreck from his breakup with diane, and halley is caught in the whirlwind of feeeeeeeeeelings.

all flowers in time bend towards the sun by jeff buckley and elizabeth fraser

Oh, all flowers in time bend towards the sun I know you say that there's no-one for you But here is one All flowers in time bend towards the sun I know you say that there's no-one for you But here is one, but here is one... Here is one

yes! this is the song that plays when they finally have that kiss! it's flowers and sunlight and the fact that love has been there all along!

the alcott by the national

I tell you my problems You tell me the truth It's the last thing you wanted It's the first thing I'd do I tell you that I think I'm falling back in love with you

this is when gideon falls back in love with her. it's after they reconcile from their fight, and halley tells him everything that she has learned from dumbledore's lessons. honestly plays an important role as their relationship evolves over the years. when halley learns that he still has lingering fears from the diary, she takes the initiative by sharing allllllll the terrible tom riddle lore.

wait for me (reprise) by hadestown

Wait for me, I'm comin' Wait, I'm comin' with you Wait for me, I'm comin' too I'm comin' too

i've been obsessed with the story of orpheus and eurydice since i was a kid. what kind of person does it take to willing walk all the way to uncertain death, what kind of person reemerges into the land of living? i made sure to have the myth echo throughout the fic - halley walking with gideon out of the chamber, gideon helping her in fifth year when she thinks she's alone, etc etc etc.

fire and the flood by vance joy

Since we met I feel a lightness in my step You're miles away but I still feel you Anywhere I go, there you are (anywhere) Anywhere I go, there you are Late at night when you can't fall asleep I'll be lying right beside you counting sheep Anywhere I go, there you are (anywhere) Anywhere I go, there you are

before even pulling him from the lake, the friendship starts in third year. various fandom chats had people wishing we got to see more of the little moments in their friendship - how do they bond over their shared trauma, how do they recognize the similar pain in each other - and also the lighter stuff of playing exploding snap and having silly conversations. the love has to start somewhere.

this is why i enjoy the friends-to-lovers arc.

#fic #brightlybound

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capybaraonabicycle · 8 months

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Hello~ I found this ask game through your reblog and thought it seemed super fun 💚 I am also curious ✨ 16. Is there a subject/character/show you wish you had created more for? Why do you think you didn’t? OR 23. Are there any tips you would give yourself from one year ago concerning your art/work?

Thank you so much for the ask!! Sorry that it's been taking me ages to answer!

16. Is there a subject/character/show you wish you had created more for? Why do you think you didn’t?

Oh, yes!! I wish I had created something for @itlivesproject's beautiful visual novel It Lives Within, specifically something to honour the amazing Amalia de Léon. I made half a sketch of her and my MC being a badass martial arts/magic/gunpower couple but I never finished it. I have no idea why, really. I've played the game about - Idk - 10-15 times from start to finish since it's come out? So, I really need to do something about that eventually.

Here's the sketch in case you wanna see:

[ID: simple crayon lineart sketch of Amalia and my MC in power poses. The MC is in the back, holding a gun in her left hand and raising her right as a fist. (There is supposed to be magic around the right hand, but the sketch barely shows that.) Lia is in the front, holding a bo staff with both hands. They are smiling at each other. end ID]

Well, okay, I kinda have an idea why I didn't make any It Lives Within art: As per usual, I have spent most my time and energy on Doctor Who. And, like, I am happy with that. Especially since I did branch out a little bit last year and covered a few more fandoms in writing, mostly.

Speaking of dw, I kinda wish I had created more for lovely Bill Potts - she got one short one-shot this year, that's so much less than what she deserves!

(Admittedly, I haven't written much for Bill in recent years either. The year before she only appeared in 2 fics but one was rather long and quite centered on her at least. And last year I have been thinking a lot more than usual about her, so I wish I had turned some of that into works. I didn't even finish the drawing of her that I made.)

Mainly, I wish I had started on the Doctor Who x Hadestown crossover fic featuring Bill as the main character. Both because Hadestown keeps occupying my brain and because Bill as the main character in a long fic would have been amazing.

Why didn't I? Well, mostly because of the 'long' part. I don't really write long fics and I tried my hand at two of them already last year. Both of which aren't finished yet. So, yeah, fear of starting something I can't own up to again. But also, the time never felt right? It was fun to think about and turn especially Persephone!12 in my head for hours, but I never felt like I had something I could put on the page NOW. But like, it will exist someday, I'll keep believing in it (and thinking about it while listening to the Hadestown album).

23. Are there any tips you would give yourself from one year ago concerning your art/work?

Sure!

General tip: When things get rough and you feel like you don't have energy for anything anymore - ESPECIALLY THEN force yourself to sit down at least 10 minutes every other day to do art or write. You will feel so much better and be amazed how often 10 minutes turn into 30. It doesn't matter if you only produce nonsense, just do it for yourself.

Writing: Whenever you can, find a friend to write for. Someone who gets excited for your work! That is incredibly motivating and rewarding :)

Art: Like every year: your art teacher was right - mix and match techniques! It IS more fun and it DOES look better, usually. Also spend more time playing with colours. They bring joy :)

#thank you so much for the ask!#I hope you got plenty of asks too <3 #it might be a little late now but if you would like me to send you an ask as well lmk I'll gladly do that :)#Ah whoops I saw now that I did both questions instead of just one #i hope you don't mind

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joyfulsongbird · 3 years

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Bruises And All- Chapter 8

I've moved a couple things around so that I don't have to commit to decisions in the story I'm anxious about quite yet. enjoy this chapter!! after months of silence!!

here's a link to chapter 7!

ao3 link to chapter 8!

***

ORPHEUS knows he’s naive.

Knows he doesn’t have a perfect understanding of what the world is really like. He’s been told enough times. Mister Hermes says he’s different, says he’s special. That doesn’t feel right. He’s not any more special than anybody else, than Persephone, or Hermes himself, even Hades. He’s just a boy. Not much else matters, as long as they’re good. Good people aren’t special, they’re just people. They look like anybody else.

“Eurydice?” he catches her hand when she’s passing by the bar after lunch, she’d disappeared for awhile, he doesn’t know where to. But he doesn’t stop her because of that, he stops her because she looks upset. Her eyes are ringed with pink, like she’s been crying recently. He doesn’t like that, he doesn’t want her to cry. He just wants her to be happy, to stay.

“Are you okay?”

She slips her hand out of his, smiling softly. “Perfectly fine. Thank you.”

In the moment between her saying that and her stepping to leave, he follows her eye line, confused at minuscule pause. And even more confused to find that she, though very briefly, catches Hades’ eye. He’s frowning, deeper than usual, and dipping a mug of what looks like black coffee.

She’s turning to go before he says her name again. “Eurydice.”

Her eyelashes are so long. And they’re wet.

“Did- did Hades say something to you?”

She’s quick to reply, quirking her lips into a smile. “No. No, he didn’t. Don’t worry.”

“But he-”

“Nothing happened. Okay?” her expression turns stern, as do her words.

“Um- okay.” he starts to turn away first this time, hurt bubbling in his chest that he doesn’t want to show on his face.

“Hey. Hey, Orpheus.” she reaches for his hand first this time, taking it in both of hers. “I’m sorry. I’m just- I’m tired. I’m stressed and tired. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

“Why are you so stressed?” he asks, still relishing in the way she hasn’t let go of his hand yet, and doesn’t seem to want to.

“No specific reason, really.” even he can tell she’s lying. “Just about the future.”

“The future?”

“Like I said, nothing specific. Just… a lot of thoughts.”

“Well that’s gotta be tough.” he aims for lightness but it falls flat, she just smiles weakly at him, dropping his hands and walking towards the bookshelf against the wall. When the bar is open, they always pride themselves on having other things for people to occupy themselves with besides getting drunk. Books on history fill the walls, some fiction mixed in, but mostly old school books Orpheus read after he’d dropped out of school and the occasional folk story Mister Hermes had collected over the years. He liked to do that, to listen to people’s stories and write them down. Keep them as reminders of the past. He claimed he didn’t really read them after he’d first written them down but sometimes, Orpheus saw him leaned up against the wall, holding a book in his hands and his eyes skimming down each page hungrily. He loved those stories, though he didn’t want to admit it.

She picks out a thick book from the wall, holding it gingerly. Orpheus tries not to look like he’s staring at her, he’s really trying not to, but the way she moves just constantly draws his eye. Gracefully, she floats about, but with a heavy air to her. Like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders but she has learnt to bear it so skillfully. So beautifully.

“When do you think the storm will let up, Hermes?” Persephone calls from her table where she sits, playing solitaire by herself.

“Shouldn’t be more than a day, by now. Hurricanes like these leave a lot of damage but never last too long.” he says, as he dusts off a couple glasses. Orpheus isn’t watching Hermes or even Persephone, his had been on Eurydice even before Persephone had started speaking but her reaction to Hermes’ answer makes him frown. She briefly clenches her fist over the sides of the book and glances up, eyes scanning across the bar, stopping once more on… Hades.

Orpheus may be a little naive, sure, but he can figure out when something strange is going on.

He can’t bring it up though, until almost that night, when he finally gets a moment alone with Eurydice. When they’re cleaning up after dinner, put in charge of washing and putting away the dishes. The three others are scattered upstairs and downstairs, Hades and Persephone turning in for the night upstairs in bed. And Hermes is downstairs tending to the furnace.

As she cranes her neck over the sink, reaching for the sponge that she had dropped, she pauses.

“What is it, Orpheus?”

“W-what?”

“You’ve been acting weird all afternoon, what is it?” she straightens up, her jaw set tightly, her arms up to the elbows are covered in suds and soap and it only looks a little ridiculous to see her stony expression and then take in the rest of her.

“You keep- every time anyone seems to say something about the storm ending or anything like that, you look at Hades. Why?”

She freezes, everything in her body turning taut for only a moment before it all releases but for a moment, there was genuine panic in her eyes. Fear like he hadn’t seen before. Like an animal looking for an escape route, a fear he can barely even comprehend.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not.”

“We just had a conversation, it’s fine. I’m handling it.” She turns back to wash the dishes some more but Orpheus catches her wrist, not hard, gently so she could pull away if wanted to. And she does, after a moment or two, but doesn’t continue with washing the dishes, she just stands there, head bowed slightly.

“Does he want you to leave?” Orpheus asks, outright.

She swallows slowly. “No.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I told you, it’s nothing.”

“Eurydice-”

“For gods’ sake, Orpheus, can you just leave it alone? I’m not going to bear every inch of my soul to you.” he steps back at the harshness in her voice, how… angry she sounds. Pain ripples through his chest and he steps back, leaning against the back counter of the bar. Things go on in utter silence for a while, Eurydice washes the dishes and places them on the rack. He’s supposed to be drying them but he’s afraid she doesn’t want him close right now. They’d have to be standing almost hip to hip for it to work well and she’s already so skittish… and angry… he doesn’t want to upset her anymore.

After too long, she turns off the faucet, and braces herself against the sides of the sink. Her exhale is loud enough for him to hear, before she turns around to face him.

“I’m sorry.” she says quietly. “I feel as if I’ve been so terrible to you today. And I really am… so sorry, Orpheus. I don’t mean to lash out. There’s no excuse, really, I just don’t know how to cope, it’s ridiculous. One thing starts upsetting me and it’s like I have to burn all of my bridges and hurt everyone around me.”

He stays silent, what can he say to that? What can he say to console her? To tell her that he’d never, ever blame her for her past bleeding into the present? Tell her that he’d forgive her a thousand times over?

She wipes her nose with her sopping wet hand, which does nothing to help. “I told you I wasn’t very nice.”

He doesn’t want to cry in front of her, though it’s an inevitable end, but when she lets her eyes rise to the ceiling and her arms come around her torso, trying to soothe herself. He can’t help it.

“Can I hug you?” his mouth comes out strained and like he’s on the verge of tears (because he is). Her eyes snap to him suddenly, her mouth forming a perfect O in surprise before she nods once, stepping forwards.

She’s warm. And much smaller than he thought. It takes a few moments before she relaxes into his embrace befores she stands on tip toes to bury her face into his shoulder. He sniffles, trying not to pay attention to the way she wraps her arms so tightly around his neck, like she never wants to let go. The way he holds her around her midsection, he doesn’t want this moment to end. Where they’re both just teary-eyed, affection starved kids who need a damn hug. Instead of a… whatever they are now. Something worse. Something far more complicated.

When she pulls away, she’s smiling. Her thumb brushes a tear from under his eye, he wants to replay that moment of tenderness a hundred times.

“You’re so nice, ‘rydice.” he murmurs. “I really like you.”

“I know.” she whispers back.

“I can’t force you to stay, I can’t ask you to give me an answer, but… I don’t want you to go.” it’s the truth. It’s one of the most truthful statements he thinks he’s ever said. Nothing he has said before this moment has ever been more true.

She nods, unable to speak even a word. He does not ask again, doesn’t ask about the side glances between her and Hades, doesn’t ask why she’s crying over this simple confession. Doesn’t even ask why she’s so on edge all the time, when she’s safe here with them. He wants to tell her she is safe but he has a feeling she wouldn’t believe him.

She places a hand on his cheek, his eyes follow that slender arm down to her shoulder, where once again, he sees those prominent bruises. He tries, he really does, to tear his eyes away from her pain. It doesn’t last more than a few moments, before Eurydice lets her hands drop away from him.

“Come on, we’ve gotta finish up.” she says and he nods silently, moving to pick the rag up off of the counter and begins drying the dishes. After a long, painful silence, in his peripheral vision, he sees her jump up to sit on the counter, not too far away from him. Just swinging legs back and forth, looking awfully young.

“Thank you, by the way,” she says finally.

“For what?”

“For being kind. For making me feel… safe.”

He can’t help the smile that creeps up onto his face, he hums quietly under his breath. “I’m really glad you feel safe.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. He wonders what she looks like when it does.

#god. I'm really posting another chapter after giving up for months #I cannot promise this au will ever finish #but god dammit if im not trying #my one thing left from the hadestown fandom #hadestown #hadestown fanfic #orpheus #eurydice #orphydice #bruises and all #orphydice fic

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 2 years

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So, I have been in a bit of a writing dry spell recently and I am trying to find a way to kickstart things. For those of you who don't know, I am a HUGE fan of musicals! It is honestly a bit of an obsession 😅 So, I want to try something! (I haven't forgotten all of my current WIPs, requests, or series. I am hoping this restarts some of my creative juices to go back to them!)

Challenge: Send me a character or characters below the break (they have to be in the same fandom/world) along with a song from one of the musicals listed below, and I will write a drabble or fic (loosely) based on the song. Unless specified, I will make it a reader-insert.

Feel free to send me as many requests as you like and I will try to do my best to fulfill them. Also, feel free to ask about other musicals or other songs. These are just the ones I felt could really work with some of these characters but there are a ton of great ones I didn't include here!

Note: feel free to request a song from a musical not listed below. These are just the ones I thought had multiple songs that would work well for drabbles/fics. Due to this, some of my favorite musicals were left off this list, so please request away! I will at least consider any song. Feel free to reach out and ask first if you would like! 🥰

Characters: (one or more from a category)

Top Gun: Hangman, Rooster, Bob, Phoenix, Fanboy, Dagger Squad (as a whole), Maverick, Iceman (what the heck!) Marvel: Bucky Barnes, Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Steve Rogers, The Avengers (as a whole), Peter Parker (The Amazing Spider-Man or MCU Spider-Man) DC: Batman (general or Battinson), Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, The Batfam (as a whole) Rick Flag, Harley Quinn, Captain Boomerang, The Suicide Squad (as a whole), Peacemaker, Vigilante Star Wars: Poe Dameron, Kylo Ren (Ben Solo), Din Djarin Misc: Takeshi Kovacs, Stephen Holder, Ed Baldwin, Rhett Abbott, Miles Miller, Harrison Knott

Musicals: (unless specified, the Broadway versions not movie versions)

Anastasia, Be More Chill, Catch Me If You Can, Chicago (movie), Hadestown*, Hamilton, Heathers, Into the Woods, The Greatest Showman (movie), The Lightning Thief, The Phantom of the Opera (movie), Wicked

*No Batman-related characters for Hadestown. I have a full fic in the works for that 😊

Wild Card Song Picks: (not traditional musicals but still great songs)

Songs from season 2 of the NBC show Smash (still obsessed after all these years) Songs from the ABC show Galavant (an extremely underrated show) Feel free to include a song from a Disney movie/musical and I might give it a shot. Some I am definitely open to off the top of my head are: Proud of Your Boy (Aladdin Musical), Evermore (Beauty and the Beast live-action), Go the Distance (Hercules), I Won't Say I'm in Love (Hercules), Part of Your World (Reprise) (The Little Mermaid), How Far I'll Go (Moana), or anything else you can think of!*

*I know I am a bad Disney fan, but I still haven't seen Encanto 😬 so please no songs from that

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broadwayprincess98 · 2 years

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Sicktember Day 1: Fall Weather Fever

Fandom: Hadestown

Pairing: Hades/Persephone

Word Count: 4,754

Prompt(s): ‘Do You Know How To Take Care of a Sick Person?’, Intense Coddling, Excessive Use of Tissues, Common Cold

Author's Note: First, I have to acknowledge the elephant in the room. Yes, the title is kinda lame. Even after writing this whole thing, sitting on it for over a week, and editing, I still had trouble coming up with a title. If you have a better idea for a title, feel free to leave a suggestion down in the comments.

I know I already wrote a Hadestown fan fiction last December where the main point is Hades and Persephone trying again, but I just couldn't resist. I've had this idea sitting in the back of my mind for months and after reading a few Tumblr prompts (I'll mention those in the credits/second note) I just couldn't resist! So, here it is: my first entry for @sicktember 2022. I'll be posting this again on AO3 so even more people can read it. I hope you guys like it!

...

The sun’s golden arms reached through the window, trying to coax Persephone awake. Instead, the goddess pulled the covers over her head. While she had already felt partly cloudy the night before, she chalked it up to a long day of work in the garden and a long night of performing at the bar. She went to bed certain she’d wake up feeling like her usual, sunny self again. Unfortunately, more storm clouds had gathered overnight, sending a flood of mucus rushing out her nose like rainwater down a waterspout.

Persephone rolled over to try and go back to sleep, but a musical ring jolted her awake. She buried her head in the pillow, trying to drown out the incessant noise. When that didn’t work she slammed her hand down on the nearby alarm clock and threw it across the room. Still, the sound continued to pound away at her already throbbing head. That’s when she knew the sound wasn’t coming from the alarm clock.

She looked over at her bedside table where her phone was ringing off the hook. She sat up with a groan as her muscles ached from head to toe. “Whaddya want?” she answered groggily.

“Persephone?”

“Hades?” The sound of that familiar, gravelly voice made her head spin and her face flush, something she hadn’t felt since they had started courting. It could’ve been her rising fever or perhaps it was a sign of something more. Persephone was hoping for the latter.

“Is this a bad time? I’ll call you back.”

“No, it’s okay. I was just thinkin’ about you.” Persephone took the red narcissus from her hair. She looked down at the flower, rubbing her thumb across the petals.

She remembered the last thing she had asked her husband before she left last winter. “And how about you and I? Are we gonna try again?” She was content to stay just a little longer if it meant they could patch things up. But they both knew the world had gone without a spring or fall for far too long. For the first time in forever, she found herself counting down the days until she could return to that kingdom of smog and steel.

A heavy sigh escaped the god’s lips before he continued. “So, y’know that orchard you told me about? The one at the other end of the garden?”

“Ya mean the one where I almost popped the question?” Persephone teased.

“I was thinking…maybe…y’know…”

“Yes?” Persephone’s heart fluttered while she waited for her husband to finish that thought.

“Maybe we could stop by for a bit… before headin’ back.”

Persephone’s mind wandered back to that glorious day in the orchard.

After seeing each-other behind Demeter’s back for so long, she kept telling herself: This is it! Today’s the day he’ll propose! Each time, she’d been left disappointed. Eventually, she decided they’d waited long enough. They rendezvoused at the orchard near the end of the garden. Before she could get a word out, Hades was already down on his knees, stumbling over the words he had written on index cards.

She was torn between “What took ya so long?” and “But what about Momma?” Just as he finished his proposal, she burst into tears and leapt into his warm embrace. “Yes!” she sobbed between passionate kisses.

What better place to patch up their marriage than the place where it all began?

“You had to ask? I know just the—”Persephone’s response was cut off by a round of violent coughs she had been trying to hold back, forcing her to turn away from the receiver.

“Lover, you alright?” Hades asked, his voice laced with concern. “You sound a bit off.”

Persephone swallowed and cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the nagging irritation. “Yeah, just a tickle in my throat, don’t worry,” she chuckled, though her laughter turned into another fit of coughs, which she tried to muffle with her sleeve. “Meet me at Momma’s place at sunset.”

“Wait for me?”

“I will,” Persephone said before hanging up the phone.

She looked over the calendar until she reached the current date. Fall equinox was written in a bold script. Warm butterflies flitted around in her stomach at the thought of seeing her husband again. It was a strange feeling she had to admit. But then the butterflies flew up from her stomach and started tickling her nose and throat, resulting in more coughing and sneezing fits. I’ll be damned if I let a little cold stop me from trying again.

Persephone slowly got out of bed and stepped into the bathroom. She rifled through the drawers and cabinets, hoping by some chance she would find some medicine that would relieve her symptoms.

Dammit! Nothing, she thought to herself when she opened the last drawer. What else should she have expected from her momma? If it didn’t grow out of the ground, it wasn’t a remedy worth having in her eyes. It seemed she would have to find some other way to get her hands on some medicine.

Once she made it back to her bedroom, she picked up the phone and called Hermes. “Mornin’, Sister,” the god answered with his usual, warm greeting. “What can I do for ya?”

“I’m sick,” the goddess answered. “Feels like someone took a jackhammer to my brain and my bones ache like I aged a few decades overnight. Not to mention all the mucus that could fill the River Styx. It’s a nightmare.” Persephone sniffled, reaching for a clean tissue on her dresser. “Now listen, I’ve got a date with Hades tonight and there’s no way in hell I’m gonna miss it! So, I need the good stuff. The ‘Callie needs to sing tonight’ stuff.”

Even through the receiver Hermes could hear how hoarse and congested Persephone’s voice was. He had half a mind to suggest she call everything off and get back in bed, but he knew better than to argue. He saw how the power of the queen of the underworld unfolded on those who crossed her, mortal or immortal. If by some luck this sickness had weakened her powers, she’d probably bite back with a snarky response, like “Since when did you become my momma?” So, instead, he nodded his head and said “Got it! I’ll be right over.”

Once she heard a click on the other end of the line, Persephone slipped into an old pair of overalls and dragged herself to the kitchen. She scanned the shelves, searching for just the right kind of tea but the words on the labels were blurred by her watering eyes. It didn’t help that all the jars looked nearly identical.

Persephone grabbed the first jar she could find and staggered over to the stove where she filled the kettle with water. While it warmed up, she sat down at the kitchen table, keeping one eye on the stove and the other on the clock. Gods dammit, Hermes! What’s keepin’ ya? she thought as she watched the minutes tick by.

As if the god had heard her gripes, which he probably had, there came a flapping of feathers followed by a knock at the back door. But before Persephone could answer, the kettle shrieked, calling her back to the stove. She quickly poured the steaming water on top of the tea leaves and stirred in a few spoonfuls of honey straight from the hive. With the mug in hand, she headed for the door and opened it to be greeted by her half-brother.

He stood there silently with a parcel in his hands, looking the goddess over. “Gee ‘Seph, I barely recognized ya. You’ve been hangin’ with the souls of the dead so long, you’re startin’ t’ look like one of ‘em.” His wisecrack was met with a groan and an eye roll from the goddess. “Ah come on, lighten up! They say laughter’s the best medicine.”

“You’re lucky I’m too sick to strangle you in thorns!” The goddess retorted, though the intensity of her threat was undermined by the stuffiness in her voice. “Now ya got the goods or not?”

“I gotcha covered, Sister.”

Before he could hand it over, Persephone was already untying the twine and ripping off the paper. When she opened it, all she found was a bottle of nasal spray, some eye drops, a bag of cough drops, and a small medicine bottle at the very bottom of the pile. She slowly looked up from the parcel and narrowed her eyes at the messenger god.

“Don’t give me that look! It’s flu season, this is the best I could find. At least I got you some aspirin. Now, I got work t’ do.” And so Hermes took off almost as quickly as he arrived.

Once Persephone finished her tea along with a few doses of the medicines, she made her way to the garden.

No sooner had she stepped into the sunlight, Demeter dropped the trowel, looked up at her daughter, and frowned. “You’re up late. You feelin’ alright?”

Persephone froze. She had hoped the elder goddess would be none the wiser. She should have known better. Nothing got past her momma. She had to say something. But what? “Momma, I haven’t been drinkin’. I swear!”

“I didn’t say you were,” Demeter said, furrowing her brow.

Persephone cursed herself for her response. Now her momma would be even more suspicious. She couldn’t blame her, especially after all the times she’d fallen off the wagon.

Sure enough, Demeter said “It’s just, there’s this nasty bug goin’ around and I’m worried you might’ve caught it.” Before Persephone could insist she was fine, the elder goddess took a deep breath before speaking again. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m trying to be less of a hover mother. If you say you’re alright, then you’re alright. So, are you ready to give me a hand in the garden?”

Persephone rolled up her sleeves, eager to plow through this bug. She snuck some more doses of medicine between weeding the garden and planting the winter crops. She sucked the cough drops Hermes had given her to quell her coughing fits. She mopped up streams of mucus using all the tissues she could find. Every now and then, her momma caught her in the middle of a coughing or sneezing fit. Each time, Persephone blamed it on the ragweed pollen which seemed to convince her.

Before either of them knew it, the sun was sitting low in the sky and the two were sitting in Persephone’s bedroom, packing her bags for her annual return to Hadestown. Once the last of her daughter’s things had been put away, Demeter sat down on the empty spot on the bed beside her. “Things’ll turn out well this time. I just know it!”

Persephone glanced over at her momma with a confused expression painted on her face. “You’re…strangely optimistic. I thought you didn’t like Hades.”

Demeter brushed strands of chestnut curls away from the younger goddess’ face and looked at her with that well-known sadness.“Well, regardless of how I feel about the man, your happiness is my happiness. So, whatever it is that started this mess, you better end it,” she said with a smile.

“Trust me, I’m plannin’ on it.” Persephone wrapped her arms around her mother, noticing the shine of silver tears, like raindrops, in her eyes. Demeter tightened her grasp on the young goddess for fear that she would slip through her fingers. The two sat there, taking shelter in the other’s embrace, neither one exchanging a word for their eyes and arms said it all. At that moment it was just the two of them as it had been for centuries.

The distant call of a train whistle startled the goddess’ out of each-other’s embrace. “I’ll be puttin’ some of the plants to bed for the fall. So, you won’t be seein’ much of me. Y’all have a good time.” Demeter kissed her daughter’s cheek before stepping out.

Once she was sure her mother was gone, Persephone sat at her vanity, searching for the extra stash of cosmetics she kept on hand for special occasions. She rushed to apply the rest of the makeup before her husband arrived. But by then, she could already feel his presence somewhere nearby.

…

After taking a moment to compose himself, Hades gave the farmhouse door a curt knock. The door opened to reveal his beloved wife wearing that same, warm smile he fell in love with that day in the garden. Though she had tried to hide her condition well, her chestnut curls resembled a bird’s nest after a storm, her eyes watered like a flooded river, and her nose was damp and red like a cherry. He decided not to mention it and instead let her lead him inside.

“Hey!” she greeted, her voice more than a little congested. “Gimme just a second, okay?”

“Okay.” Hades leaned against the doorframe and watched as she opened her bags to retrieve some more layers. Glancing around the room, he noticed the wastebasket overflowing with tissues and the vanity and dresser cluttered with no shortage of cough drop wrappers. “You sure you’re feelin’ up to this, Lover? You sound a little sick.”

She slipped on a sweater and then her big, fur coat on top of her forest green dress. “It ain’t so bad.” Her statement was followed by a wet sniffle, which did nothing to convince him of her wellbeing.

“Tonight’s s’posed to be the coldest it’s been all week.”

Persephone playfully rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s almost like weather normally gets colder as the seasons change. Wild.” She was about to head back to the closet only to be stopped by a crudely-knitted scarf wrapped around her neck. “You made this for me?”

“Of course. I mean, it ain’t like Athena’s work. But what kinda husband would I be if I let my wife catch a chill?”

Persephone’s smile widened as she took him in her arms. “This is better than anything Athena could’ve made. It’s got a story to tell.”

Hades saw her attempt to hide a few coughs in her elbow followed by a wince when she realized that the force of the coughs had spilled some mucus from her nose. He raised his brow and looked at her with a mix of concern and bemusement.

“Oh, uh…” she sniffled, “I’ll bring tissues.”

“Good.” Hades knew it would probably be best not to take her out in such a state, but who was he to deny her a nice evening together? Especially after the promise they had made last winter. Besides, there was nothing he could say or do to change his wife’s mind once it was made up.

Hades stepped into the kitchen to wait for his wife. His eyes landed on the kettle sitting on the nearby stove and then on the thermos in his hand. Guess it couldn’t hurt to bring along somethin’ warm to drink. Once the kettle had been filled, he turned on the stove and began rummaging through the cupboards stocked with various jars of herbs, spices, and tea leaves.

Even from the kitchen he could hear his wife sniffling and sneezing, which made his stomach sink. What if he was somehow to blame for her illness? The sweltering heat and smog-filled streets couldn’t be good for a nature goddess like Persephone. Any number of things in that dark and dismal kingdom could have weakened her, leaving her vulnerable to sickness. Before he could dwell any further on that, the kettle squealed and he shot to his feet. He emptied a jar of tea leaves into the thermos and poured boiling water from the kettle and stirred in some of Demeter’s organic honey.

“I’m ready to go.” Persephone popped out from behind the corner, took his hand in hers, and led him out into the garden.

…

The trees and flowers lining the dirt path bowed down their heads in reverence for the passing king and queen. Even through the branches overhead Hades could see a few of Nyx’s stars shining like diamonds along the golden streams of Helios’ chariot. A cool breeze swept the land, carrying the smokey, crisp scent of autumn. It was a natural sort of beauty, one that could not be replicated by even the most precious stones or the most advanced machinery.

The quiet chemistry between the gods was abruptly halted when Persephone broke away from him in a small fit of coughs. The king raised a sturdy arm, gently placing his hand against her back while she hacked. “”You doin’ okay? We can head back anytime, y’know?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Persephone sniffled again before clearing her throat. She searched her bag for a tissue to wipe her dripping nose. They hadn’t been walking for very long, but she already found herself reusing old tissues.

A few steps later, the gods came to a clearing at the end of the lane. The leaves parted to unveil a large gathering of trees bearing every kind of fruit known to man. As he stared at the perfect blend of red, green, and yellow apples that hung from the branches, he took a whiff of the sweet, natural scent of fresh produce.

Hades thought about everything else they could do here now that the garish, summer heat had been put to rest for the season. They could come back here for picnics under the stars, snowball fights once the first snow fell, maybe even a game of hide and seek.

When the hell did I get t’ be such a sap?

A smug grin crept across the god’s face as he looked up at the hanging fruits. “Well lookie here, all these apples up for grabs and not a ladder in sight. Just how is a goddess of your size s’posed to grab any?”

“Watch me!” Persephone thrust the basket at her husband and approached the towering tree with her hand outstretched. The tree lowered one of its branches to the queen, gifting her the biggest, juciest apple it could produce. She plucked the fruit from the branch and bit off a large chunk before turning back to her husband with a wry smile.

She swore she heard her husband mutter “Show off” under his breath, but the smile on his face told her he harbored no hard feelings. So far so good.

“Hey, chin up. Maybe the others’ll give you somethin’ if you ask nicely,” she teased.

“You can talk t’ trees? Really? What’s it say?”

“It says…” Persephone started, leaning her ear against the tree’s mighty trunk. “Last one t’ fill the basket peels all the apples! Looks like you’re gonna hafta do it the old-fashioned way, Lover.”

Hades and Persephone raced to fill each of their baskets as quickly as possible. They started chucking rotten apples at each-other, hoping to slow the other one down. Robust laughter and the humming of an old song resonated throughout the orchard; a song of love brought to life after spending so much time forgotten. Had an oracle told either of them years ago that this was where they would be, they would have scoffed at the possibility. Now, they couldn’t imagine it any other way.

Persephone had nearly forgotten about her condition. That is, until another breeze passed by, sending a shiver through her. When she held out her hand, the apples sat motionless at the top of the tree. She tried again, but all that fell from the branches were a few pathetic leaves. Looks like I’m gonna have to do this the hard way.

Persephone slithered up the trunk like a snake until she reached the nearest branch. So far so good. Her heart seemed to swell into a mallet, drumming up extra ichor through her veins to the tips of her fingers as she hoisted herself up the tree. Almost there! Her mouth began to water as she edged closer and closer to the apples, red and shiny as rubies, hanging from the branches.

The goddess reached her hand out to the plump, ripe fruit just inches away. But before she could claim her prize, a wave of heat swept through her body. The sky and surrounding trees started spinning in a violent circle, as though she were caught in a cyclone. She clung to the tree for dear life, disregarding the aches in her arms and legs. Unfortunately, the branch she had been clutching slipped from her hand, sending her plummeting toward the ground.

Persephone braced herself for a rough landing, only to have her fall cushioned by something warm and soft. She opened her eyes to find her husband looking down at her. “Is this a habit of yours? Fallin’ off stuff?” he asked, attempting a smile.

“Well, normally someone’s there to catch me,” Persephone chuckled, tracing her finger along the brick pattern that lined his arm.

“Come on, let’s sit down for a spell.” The king cradled his queen in his broad arms and laid her down slowly on the orchard floor, handing her one of the apples he picked.

Persephone leaned against the trunk, snacking on the apple while basking in the warm glow of the fall evening until a cool breeze passed by, sending a shiver through her. She inched closer to her husband and pressed against him. Her fur coat stretched further with every shiver and shake that passed through her. Hades obliged, wrapping himself and his wife in the coat, which now resembled a winter blanket, and pulling her in close to him.

Persephone leaned into his touch, emitting a small, content sigh. Her body tensed as she attempted to stifle a wet sneeze against the king’s shoulder, leaving the silver fabric damp. “Shit! Ugh…I-I’m so sorry,” she sniffled, fumbling for a decently dry tissue in her bags.

“It’s alright, lover.” Hades pulled out a clean handkerchief from his coat pocket and handed it to his wife. He watched another miserable, soggy sneeze erupt during her fervent attempt to clean up after the first one. Another breeze passed by, causing her to shiver again. This time, so did he. “Maybe we should head back. It’s gettin’ cold.”

Persephone gave her nose another blow into the now sodden handkerchief. “Alright, just let me drop some of these off with Momma first.” Once she finished, she noticed her husband holding a thermos out to her.

“I brought some tea. Should help us warm up on the way back.”

Her face flushed a bit, whether it was because of her fever or her husband, she didn’t know and, at that point, didn’t care. She gratefully accepted the drink, releasing a delighted hum at the soft blend of sweet honey and the powerful kick of the tea leaves. The two of them stood, took the bags, and headed down the path

Hades and Persephone walked back slowly, each one supporting the opposite side of the basket. A comfortable silence hung over them as they walked, only being broken by the occasional cough or sneeze coming from Persephone or the sound of either of them sipping the hot drink. Finally, Persephone turned to her husband with a wounded expression painted on her face. “I’m sorry, Lover. I know you wanted to give us a perfect night and I ruined everything…again.”

“Oh lover. You didn’t ruin anything,” he reassured her, squeezing her hand a little tighter. “Besides, you’re better than all the apples in that orchard.”

Persephone shook her head. “It ain’t just about the apples,” she said. “I let us grow apart like weeds all because I was blinded by a river of wine. I’ve been tryin’ to quit for the both of us, but if only you knew how many times I’ve fallen off the wagon.”

She tried to avoid her husband's eyes, but Hades cradled her chin in his coarse hand and gave off a low chuckle. “I think I got you beat,” he said. “You shoulda seen all those nights Hermes and Hecate had t’ drag me outta the office kicking and screaming. One time Cerberus mistook me for one of them low-lifes. Though, I guess I was.”

Persephone let out a watery sort of laugh which soon gave way to another fit of coughs.

A few steps later, which felt like a mile-long trek to Persephone, the two arrived at the old farmhouse. The goddess raised her hand to knock when the front door swung open. Not even seconds later, she was greeted by her mother’s frantic stream of worries. “Baby, what happened?!” Demeter gasped. “You look white as a ghost! Hades, you know you shouldn’t be taking her out if she’s unwell! Now look what you did!”

“Leave him outta this, Momma. It ain’t his fault. I’ve been feelin’ lousy all day.”

The elder goddess placed the back of her hand against her daughter’s forehead, biting her lip. “I knew it,” she murmured. “I knew somethin’ was wrong this whole time. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Persephone snapped.

Demeter raised her arms and took a step back, staring at her daughter with her mouth agape. When she finally spoke, the first words out of her mouth were “Because I know you needed space.” She turned away from the younger, hanging her head low. “You’re not a little girl anymore. It’s time I put my own feelings aside and accept that. But right now, you need to march right up those stairs and head straight to bed.”

“No!” Persephone protested, flocking to her husband’s side. “Hades, we have to go! Tell her it’s time!”

Hades shook his head. “I’m sorry, Persephone, but your mother’s right.”

The goddesses stared at him with a mix of confusion and surprise planted on their faces. “But—”

“Lover, you are in no condition to travel. I could never forgive myself if you got sicker on the ride back to Hadestown. Fall can wait a few days.”

Persephone relented before turning back to the elder goddess. “Well, if I can’t go then he stays.” She hugged his arm a little tighter, silently pleading for her mother to have pity on her poor husband.

“Do you even know how to take care of a sick person?” Demeter asked cooly, staring straight at her brother.

“I made her some tea,” he said, showing her the thermos.

“It takes a lot more than knowing your way with a kettle, Mister.”

“Well, I’d be willing to learn from the best.”

Demeter hesitated, looking over at Hades with a glare as bitter cold as the winter frosts. Just when Persephone thought they were through, she said “Alright, but just for tonight.” The goddess waved the two of them in before showing them to their room.

Once the door closed behind them, Persephone attempted to peel off the gown, whimpering and groaning at the aches that followed every movement. “Little help here?” she asked, glancing over at her husband.

With a soft laugh, Hades pulled the dress up and over her head before helping her slip into one of her silk nightgowns and tucking her into bed. “I better go help your mother in the kitchen, I’ll be right back,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her rosy cheek.

Persephone settled into the pillows, tucking her mother’s woven quilt around herself. She drifted off to the lullaby of rustling leaves, the steady beating of the knife against the cutting board, and the sizzle of her mother’s homemade cooking. Some time later, she was awoken by an enticing smell from the kitchen. She figured she must already be on the mend if she could smell again.

Her husband came in bearing two steaming bowls and two ceramic mugs. He proceeded to pile on layers and layers of blankets between fluffing her pillows and offering her spoonfuls of soup, much to Persephone’s delight. “Is there anything else I can do for you, my queen?”

“Well, maybe just one more thing,” she said coyly, extending her arms to the king. “Will you lie with me? The bed’s a bit small, so we’ll have to get real close.”

Hades happily obliged, wrapping himself in the mountain of blankets and sheets, hooking his arm around his wife. The gods drifted off to sleep, not just side-by-side, but in each-other’s arms, relishing in the other’s presence for the first time in years. The story turned out even better the second time because the gods had remembered their love.

Credits/Sources of Inspiration: "Under The Weather Under The Stars" (Tumblr Prompt) Fall Sickfic prompt about characters A and B apple picking (If you wrote it you know who you are)

#sicktember 2022 #hadestown #hadestown fanfic #writing challenge #writing #musical theater

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you-are-so-much-better-than-that · 3 years

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Tagged by @howlinchickhowl and @heymrspatel and @energievie to play @thisaintmacys-bitch 's 2022 tag game! It’s my first time doing one of these!

2 fictional characters to describe yourself

Not to be that guy that is super into the fandom, but Fiona, because I’ve made my need to be needed a part of my identity, but I also hate it when I’m needed? And Monica Gellar because I’m a little neurotic and I like to host events and throw a themed party and bake and cook for people.

2 songs stuck in your head

This doesn’t happen often as most of the music I listen to is Broadway music (I am a massive nerd) and that doesn’t usually hit the Top 40, but recently I’ve had Hadestown on repeat, so I’ve been cycling through Wedding Song and All I’ve Ever Known.

2 shows you’d rewatch forever

Buffy and Friends (it’s not like the best show, but it was on all the time growing up, so I have it basically memorized. It’s a good show to have in the background while mopping, you know?)

2 drinks you order at starbucks

Chai tea latte (iced or hot). If that doesn’t count as two separate drinks, then a Chocolatey Chip Frap.

2 movies you know by heart

Ooo umm I’m not great at movies, but I’ve watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail and V for Vendetta a lot

2 concerts you’d like to go to

Ed Sheeran and Pink

2 things you wanna do in 2022

Go somewhere. Anywhere. Literally leave this province because I haven’t done that in too long. And umm see a financial advisor to plan out a feasible route to home ownership? I’ve never felt so old.

2 things about yourself that might surprise people

I was born in Egypt, which always seems to get people excited when I tell them I’m Egyptian. I was 6 when we left, so I don’t remember much, and I’ve only been back once. Aaaaand-- ok. I literally just got my Canadian citizenship last week. My family immigrated from Egypt in 1995, but we lived in the States for a bit, then moved to Canada. I could have done the test and gotten my citizenship like 15 years ago, but a good mixture of life and laziness kept me from doing the paperwork. It feels silly since I literally have a degree in the history of this country.

2 random pictures from your camera roll

Ok here are two from yesterday:

My cat, Leah, and dog, Charlie, in a rare moment of not trying to kill each other while in the same room, and

My half lit Christmas tree. This happened because Charlie got curious and nibbled a wire. He managed to get a small shock and my tree needs to be re-strung, but that is a problem from December 2022.

This was super fun. I talk a lot. Umm y'all move fast and I feel like everyone is already doing this! I shall tag @gardenerian as I know they are currently doing other things and have not done this yet!

#tag games

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trekkiehood · 3 years

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How Long? - SPN Fic

Title: How Long?

Fandom: Supernatiral

Author: @pricelesstrashpanda and @trekkiehood

Part: 1/10

Words: 2k

Setting: Preseries - Standford Era

Characters: Dean, Bobby, Sam, John

Ship: None

Ao3 Link

Summary: Dean hasn't seen or heard from his family in over a year. After one too many ignored phone calls, Dean decides he's better off dead than alone. Bobby disagrees.

Trigger Warnings: Depression, Loneliness, Self-harm, Suicide

Authors Note:

Hey guys!

We started working on this fic 5 months ago and finally finished the whole thing! We will be uploading the chapters one by one until the story is completed.

This story started in our DMs and somehow became this monster of a fic.

Full warning, this story is dark, read the tags and be warned.

Title from Hadestown song "How Long?"

I hope you enjoy it! Please let us know what you think!

-Jamie

~~~~~

“This is John Winchester. If this is an emergency, leave a message. If not, call my son, Dean, 866-970-3235. He can help.”

Dean’s hand tightened around the whiskey bottle he was holding as he squeezed his eyes shut and silently cursed the way tears welled behind them.

He didn’t like to think about how many times he’d heard that message over the past months. He should be used to it, but it still taunted him.

Dean can help.

Dean needed help. Who was there to call when Dean needed help?

The robotic voice on the other end finished the recording instructions, and the agonizingly familiar tone sounded in his ear. He cleared his throat.

“Hey, Dad. I… uh… I know you’re busy. I just wanted to let you know that… uh… I… I’m gonna go ahead and check out. That is…”

He cleared his throat again.

“I can’t do it anymore. I just… I can’t. I’m done. So I… I guess this is goodbye. Lucky for me, cuz you’re gonna be ticked.”

He managed to laugh, but even to him, it sounded utterly joyless.

“I’m sorry.”

He hung up.

A thumb and forefinger run along the bridge of his nose made sure the tears he could still feel trying to rise stayed well behind his eyes.

That was one strike.

He flicked his phone back open and found Sam’s name. Here went nothing.

He pressed call, raising the phone to his ear with one hand and the whiskey to his lips with the other.

It rang once, then again.

Dean’s throat tightened, something in his chest throbbing a little.

More ringing.

He set down the whiskey, just for a moment, so he had a free hand to once again rub the moisture back from his eyes. He picked it back up and took another swig as the sound of a call unanswered continued to taunt him.

Finally, the ringing stopped.

“Hey, it’s Sam. Sorry I missed you. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

No, you won’t, Dean thought bitterly. Not me. Not the past five hundred times.

More robotic instructions like he hadn’t been through this process a thousand times before. A tone that over the past months, he’d come to hate more than any other sound in the world.

“Hey, Sammy.”

Two words in, and this message was already so much harder than the last one.

“It's been awhile. It's been... What a year? Wow. Uh. I don't know if you even listen to these. I've left enough messages haven't I?"

He forced a weak chuckle.

"Yeah. I just wanted to tell you that… well…. Y'know I won't be offended if you don't listen to this. In fact I kinda hope you don't… I shouldn't even be calling you but I… well you don't have to worry, this is the last time you'll hear from me. I just wanted to tell you goodbye. For good. I know we kinda already said it but that was a 'see ya later'.... Or I thought it was at least. Guess you always knew, huh? You were always the smart one. But this is a real goodbye. I... I think I'm gonna check out… just... I can't anymore and....don't worry about it. I just… I'm... I'm sorry for uh, for bothering you. I know you wanted to get on with your life and I- I just couldn't let go. But it's okay. This is it. This last message and I'll stay away. Permanently. You can be happy. We can both finally be... Well at peace if not happy. I- I love ya Sammy.”

His voice cracked a little in anticipation of the end of the monologue.

“Please be careful."

He snapped the phone closed and dropped it on the counter as the hand with the whiskey in it rose to his lips almost of its own accord. He swallowed a mouthful and then realized no more was coming. He lowered the bottle and stared at it a little dully. He’d only bought it yesterday. Not that it was a record for him or anything, but he hadn’t realized he was drinking so much.

It didn’t matter anyway. He didn’t plan to live long enough to worry about liver failure.

He dropped the bottle into the sink in front of him and picked up the knife he’d left lying on the counter.

His chance for a two-out-of-three was gone. He could just do it now.

But who would tell Bobby, if he didn’t?

Probably his father. Probably not gently or tactfully. And who knew when he’d get around to it.

Bobby didn’t deserve that.

After all, he’d been the only person to stay in any kind of contact with Dean since his family took off. When Dean had screwed up on a hunt and been bleeding out alone, Bobby had been the one to pick up the phone, and Bobby had been the one to call for help.

He’d be dead already if it wasn’t for Bobby.

He deserved to hear it from Dean, and Dean owed him that much at least.

He looked down and saw that he was shaking.

He wouldn’t break down, not yet. Just one more phone call and he’d be done… he could leave. A final “leave a message after the beep.”

The phone rang three times before there was the click of someone picking up the receiver. "Hello?"

Dean was frozen with the phone to his ear. He hadn't actually expected anyone to answer. He should have known better. This was Bobby.

"You gonna answer or just stand there breathin'?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Oh, uh, hey, Bobby. Sorry to bother you."

Dean could hear the smile creeping into Bobby's voice. He cringed inwardly. This call was going to be harder than the others. "You're not bothering me, boy. It's good to hear from ya."

"Oh. Okay. Well, I just... Thought I should tell you that..." He let out a small cough, trying to find the strength to say what he knew he had to. Dean never thought he'd see a day when he actually wished he had gotten the answering machine. "I just thought I should... Should tell you… Uh..."

The smile was gone from the voice and worry was beginning to creep into it. "Tell me what, Dean?"

He took a steadying breath. "That... That I'm done."

"Done with what? A hunt?"

Dean closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the bathroom wall. He couldn't do this. He couldn't explain what he was feeling. Why he was doing what he was doing. He just didn't have the energy.

"Dean, you're scaring me, Boy."

"Bobby..." Dean ran his hand over his face. He was so tired. Couldn't Bobby just leave it alone? Collect context clues and drop it? Dean's eyes flicked to the knife. Bobby would figure it out on his own soon enough.

"Done with what, Dean?" he insisted, a darkening tone spoken with abnormal carefulness and mounting worry.

He wasn't going to cry. Not now. Not yet. He took a shuddering breath. "Ev-everything. All of it. I.... I can't anymore."

"Tell me right now you're not saying what I think you're saying." Dean could hear the note of panic hidden under the growling voice.

"I'm done, Bobby. I tried. But I'm done. I'm checking out."

"No!" he practically barked.

Dean flinched, hand tightening around the phone. There was a brief moment of silence, both of their breathing sounding too loud over the tiny speaker.

"Bobby…" he sighed at last, but he didn’t know what else to say, and the word was left hanging alone.

A calculated deep breath and Bobby returned, sounding softer than Dean had ever heard him. "Hey. Listen to me, Dean. You're not going anywhere."

"I didn't call you so you could play shrink, Bobby. I just…"

Why did he call? He’d made the decision maybe a minute ago, but his mind was foggy and it was all running together. Right. Because Bobby deserved to know. But In the back of his mind, Dean was beginning to wish he hadn't called. Dad and Sam had made it so easy to say goodbye.

"I just thought you deserved to know."

"And I appreciate that. But Dean, I'm not letting you go anywhere."

"No, Bobby. I'm sorry. I am. But you have to let me do this. One out of three is a crap ratio and you know it."

"One out of three what?"

Dean picked up the knife again, running his thumb along the blade. He couldn't hold back the exhausted sigh. "Bobby, I'm tired. Just let me go, okay?"

"Dean. Dean, listen to me right now. Where's your daddy?"

The coarse laugh bubbled up before he even realized what was happening. "Like I know. I told you. One of three."

A beat of silence as the older hunter slipped the pieces into place. "How long have you been on your own, Son?"

"Not sure."

Why keep track of time? What was there to keep track of? Just alone, alone, alone, hunt, alone, alone, hunt.

"Couple months? Year maybe? Not long after.... After Sam."

When had he left again? August? No, before then? He never thought he'd forget that date. Now it was leaving him blank with just the searing memory of loss, loss, alone.

"He's been gone since Sam left?!"

"Like I said, Bobby. I can't do it anymore."

Maybe he was finally starting to understand. Maybe now Bobby would leave him alone and let him get on with it.

"Dean, you should have told me you were alone."

Dean scoffed at that. "Like you care, Bobby. No one cares."

That was the point. What wasn't Bobby understanding?

"You listen here, Boy. You're in a low place right now. I know. But you do not get to tell yourself that I don't care about you."

"Well then it's only you!" And maybe that made it worse. His voice softened, trying to make the older man understand. “And I'm sorry, Bobby, but... I don't know if that's enough"

Bobby didn't answer. Silence settled over them and Dean felt so overwhelmingly exhausted that he feared he may actually fall asleep.

"When did you call them?" Dean was brought back to the present, blinking at the quiet words.

"Uh… right before I called you."

"Maybe they'll call you back."

Another sardonic chuckle. Bobby really didn't know his family as well as he thought.

"Did you tell them? What you plan to do?"

A beat of silence.

"Yeah."

"They'll call back, Dean." And he sounded so sure of it that if Dean hadn't experienced the months of silence first hand he may have believed him.

"They probably won't even listen to the messages."

And even if they did they still wouldn't call. Probably wouldn't even care.

Bobby seemed to read his mind. "No, Dean. You can't think like that. Just wait."

"Wait?!" He was probably beginning to sound manic. "How long? How long do I have to keep waiting for them to even notice me? Sam leaves. So dad leaves. What does that say about me, Bobby? You think this is the first call they haven't answered? I'm done, Bobby. I'm done waiting."

"Dean, you... Just... Twenty four hours. Okay? Just give ‘em a day. See if they call you back. They might surprise you."

"Bobby..." He ran a hand down his face.

They wouldn't. But he could offer him that much. One final gift to the only person who gave a care what happened to him.

"Fine. Twenty-four hours. But they won't call. You're just delaying what should have happened a long time ago."

"Dean..." Bobby sounded like he wanted to continue to lecture but thought better of it. "Alright. Good. One day. Now where are you?"

"No, Bobby. We're not doing this." Dean wasn't an idiot.

"Dean..."

"No."

Bobby sighed, a mix between worry and exasperation. "Dean, please."

"I said no, Bobby. I'll give you twenty-four hours but that's it. You act like this is a spur of the moment decision. It's not."

"Dean…"

"No. I've made my decision. Twenty-four hours. If one of them calls, just one of them, I won't do it. I can deal with two out of three. But they won't call. And you're not stopping me." He bit his lip, stealing his resolve, cementing it in his brain. He set his watch. "Twenty-four hours."

He flipped the phone shut, ignoring any final plea from the man on the other side. Dropping the phone in his pocket he turned his attention back to the knife. He nicked the tip of his thumb, watching the small cut fill with blood.

Dean let the knife fall loudly onto the ceramic sink. Fine. Twenty-four hours

~~~~~

So... yeah. Not exactly a hopeful ending... it gets worse before it gets better... but... new chapter soon!

What do you think will happen? Will anyone call back? Are John and Sam jerks or is there something else at play?

Let us know with any thoughts or comments! (We both live for comments so please)

Come chat on tumblr at @/Trekkiehood and @pricelesstrashpanda

Much love and God bless,

Jamie

#tw self harm #my fics #my fanfics #supernatural fic #supernatural #spn #dean whump #anti sam winchester #anti john winchester #bobby singer #dean winchester #tw suicide #fanfic #dean fanfiction #hurt dean winchester #awesome bobby singer #parent bobby singer

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waywardfangirl · 4 years

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Both @captain-aralias and @palimpsessed did really nice posts to share their fics from this year as well as their thoughts on what they wrote, and I enjoyed reading their posts (and their fics!) so much that I thought I would take them up on their open invitation to do one too! I’m a big believer in keeping lists of your accomplishments to look at on days when self-doubt creeps in, so I encourage anyone else who might be interested to do this too! (All the questions are copied from @captain-aralias)

List of Completed Fics this year:

I wrote ten fics this year, as well as starting a ton of WIPs, which is amazing to me, considering I have only written fic once before in my life!

Slow - General, 3k

We’re Not in Genovia Anymore - Teen, 28k

Promises - General, 3k

A Privilege to Love You - Teen, 7k

Early Riser - General, >1k

Write This Down - General, 3k

As You Wish - Teen, 13k

The View from the Veranda - General, 4k

Down By The Sea - General, 2k

Just Want You to Know Who I Am - General, 1k (written in 2020, posted in 2021)

Total: 10 fics, 67k words, 100% Snowbaz

Pretty good for what is truly the first year that I have been an active participant in fandom!

Questions answered below the cut.

Best/worst title?

A Privilege to Love You is my favorite title, because I think the line is just so sweet, and it makes my heart melt.

We’re Not in Genovia Anymore is definitely my worst title, because that was just the placeholder name I gave the WIP, but then I got so used to it I forgot to change it to something better before posting. I still cringe a bit at that one.

Best/worst summary?

l am horrifically indecisive, so I have a few summaries that I like. Just Want You To Know Who I Am is short and sweet, and I think it conveys exactly what I want it to:

Baz is fine. He's fine. Everything is fine. (It just isn't.)

~A fic about being loved in all the little ways~

But I also really liked the quotes I pulled for The View from the Veranda, As You Wish, and A Privilege to Love You.

Early Riser also has a summary that I let break my heart:

Baz wakes up early now, even though Simon doesn’t.

I does very little to convey what the fic is about, but after reading the fic it hurts like I wanted it to, sooo.....

I think that Promises has the worst summary though:

Inspired by the song "Promises" from the musical Hadestown.

Simon and Baz have spent the last three years working on themselves and on their relationship. Now it's time for their next step together.

Best/worst first line?

Baz says it best to open The View from the Veranda:

I am not a man accustomed to enduring want.

However, Simon deserves an honorable mention for starting us off right in As You Wish:

Baz is such a prick.

As for worst opening lines, I don’t really think I have any. I have some that stand better as an opening paragraph than an opening line, but I place a lot of importance on the first line of a story, so I like to make sure all mine are strong.

Best/worst last line?

I am not going to spoil any last lines for anyone (I cover up the last page of books when I read to reveal it slowly, word by word, so I take last lines seriously!), but I will say that As You Wish has an adorably predictable last line that I love.

For worst last line, I have to say Slow. I liked the line itself when I wrote it, but then I learned later that people were interpreting it in a more steamy way than what I had intended, and because I feel like Slow is such an innocent fic and really highlights how important it is for Simon to not be rushed into every decision he makes, I don’t like that it sounds like he and Baz rushed into something else. (I just meant that they talked and maybe kissed a bit! That’s it!)

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

On December 31st, 2019, I was pet sitting when I came across a prompt for a Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement Snowbaz AU. I impulsively started to write, even though I had only written one other fic in my life (Check, Please!), and I had never written Snowbaz before. I kind of thought that maybe I would write one fic and that would be all, and that maybe one fic is all I would ever write, but I am so happy to have been wrong about that! I wrote way more than I could have predicted, and I even did NaNoWriMo! (I failed NaNoWriMo too, and I’m okay with that, because I want writing to be something I do for fun, not something that stresses me out.)

As a fun side note, Carry On is a fandom that I have returned to many times in my life, and it seems to have a special place on New Year’s Eve/New Year’s Day for me. I was given Fangirl as a Christmas present, and started reading it on New Year’s Eve, only to finish it and realize that the new year had arrived while I was engrossed in the book. I have spent multiple New Year’s Eves since engrossed in a reread of the book, or reading fic, and so it feels really fitting that I got into properly writing fic for Carry On as the year turned over.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

Literally all of this was unexpected, as I never planned on writing any more fic, but I think I am most surprised to have written multiple songfics. I never read many songfics, and didn’t often care for them, but I wrote Promises off of the song from Hadestown, Write This Down off of George Strait’s song, and then Just Want You to Know Who I Am because Caity got the Goo Goo Dolls stuck in my head.

What’s your favourite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

My favorite might actually be my most popular, so I’ll go with my close second favorites (it’s a tie)

A Privilege to Love You is a soulmate au, and those are my favorite things ever. I also received some of the best feedback on this one, and I feel like I did a lot of things that worked really well in this fic.

The View from the Veranda is just so wonderful for me though, it combines my love of history with absolute silliness for a friend (I love you Liz!!!), @krisrix did some INCREDIBLE art for it, and I just had so much fun writing it.

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

As You Wish was the most popular, hands down, with more hits, kudos, comments, and bookmarks than any other fic I wrote. It’s also the fic of mine that I reread the most, because it makes me so happy and I love all the silly moments.

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

We’re Not in Genovia Anymore is probably the answer here. This isn’t entirely backed up by metrics, since it does have more hits and kudos than some of my other fics, but for how long it is and the work that went into it, I think it only got a portion of the attention I was hoping it would. That’s mostly my fault though! It was the first fic I wrote for this fandom, and so I have definitely grown as a write since! Additionally, while I feel like it has a lot of great moments and fantastic lines, I have some lackluster bits too, and it really suffered from not having a beta (I was too shy to ask anyone back then). It’s also an AU of a movie that isn’t as widely viewed as I previously thought, so that didn’t help either, and as I already said, this fic could have a much better title.

All that aside though, the people who have read and talked to me about this fic have really seemed to like it, so I’m glad that I did right by my fellow Princess Diaries 2 fans! (and all of the wonderful people who read it and commented nice things having never seen the movie, y’all rock!)

Story that could have been better?

Everything I wrote before asking someone to beta. I just talked about what I would improve in We’re Not In Genovia Anymore, but Promises could use some work too. Having a few wonderful friends help me edit my fics has really improved what I post!

Sexiest story?

Oh gosh, I am not someone who writes sexy things.

Having said that, The View from the Veranda was written in the style of a bodice ripper, so I think that makes it the sexiest story by default. Kris’s art also enhances its sex appeal by at least 200% (I laughed out loud when I was making the list at the start of this post, because I had entirely forgotten that fic is rated G - honestly, that tells you everything you need to know about me, my romance novel fic can be read by children haha) (I might give it a T rating at some point, just because I feel like it should have that)

**I just remembered the bonus chapter for As You Wish.... that might be the sexiest thing I’ve written haha 🤣

Saddest story?

Early Riser - I am a big believer in giving everyone who deserves it a happy ending, but this one is just an interlude of sadness and depression without any resolution in sight.

(If you read it though, please know that in my head they do get therapy and things do get better! Snowbaz always has a happy ending in my fics, even if I don’t write it out fully)

Most fun?

As You Wish - this one to me feels like the happy chaos of running and sliding around a big house in stocking feet, and I don’t have a better way to describe it than that. There’s a tiny bit of angst from Baz, and a little bit of panic from Simon, but I was smiling and having so much fun while writing this fic, and I really think it comes across.

Story with single sweetest moment?

A Privilege to Love You - I’ll let you decide which of the many sweet moments is actually the sweetest ❤

Hardest story to write?

Promises, no question about it. I had written two fics by that point, and people had been so nice, and some of you lovely folks had even started tagging me in WIP Wednesday posts and in Six Sentence Sunday posts, but I felt like I had no inspiration left and I kept worrying that I wouldn’t be able to write again. So, I forced myself to write something, and it felt like pulling teeth (and it honestly wasn’t very good), but I gifted it to the person who had been my biggest cheerleader and who had tagged me a million times, and that’s how @foolofabookwyrm and I became friends. Writing the fic sucked, but her friendship is worth it, a million times over 💜💜💜

Easiest/most fun story to write?

The View from the Veranda. I’m a historian, and I work a lot with primary sources and spend time speaking with others in 18th century language, so once I got into my “work mindset” the words just flowed. This was also a silly, happy story for me, because I included a lot of jokes for Liz, and there are a ton of details that are just hilarious if you work at the same place I do (sorry that none of you do, but let me just tell you, the descriptions of Simon are all based off of my most attractive colleague, and at least 15% of this fic is silly quotes from work). I think this was only supposed to be about a thousand words long, and I messaged Kris multiple times while writing just to tell him that it was getting out of control and I couldn’t stop writing 😂

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

Writing for Agatha in We’re Not in Genovia Anymore really made realize how much some of her (canon) story resounded with me, and I liked the deeper character study I ended up doing for her. I’m still always going to be the most in love with Baz, but I have a deeper connection to Agatha now too.

Most overdue story?

It’s still overdue. I have so many WIPs, at least seven of which are soulmate AUs, and I just keep starting more. In terms of actual planned release date though? I started writing a The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue AU for NaNoWriMo, with the intention of publishing it in January. It’s already the longest fic I’ve ever written, and I don’t think I’m even a quarter of the way done with it. I wasn’t happy writing for NaNo, because I don’t do well with creativity on a deadline, and I chose to pause work on that fic so I can actually enjoy writing it and end up with something I like once I finally return to it. Apologies to those who are anxiously awaiting the fic, I do hope to finish it this year, and I won’t post until it’s all done, so you’ll get a very rapid update schedule when it does come out!

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

I signed up for my first fandom event! I participated in the Secret Snowflake event, and wrote Down By The Sea for the wonderful @fight-surrender (and ended up with ideas for some other new fics too)! Even though I was actively failing NaNoWriMo when I signed up, I did manage to complete my fic on time, and I learned that it wasn’t quite as daunting as I was expecting it to be. (My biggest problem was my laptop breaking and having to do almost everything on my phone - I also learned once again just how amazing Liz is, as she helped me format and post to ao3, since I couldn’t do that properly without a computer)

I struggle with being creative on a deadline, but wanting to write a little over 1k in a month was much more achievable than feeling stressed about writing 50k in a month!

This year’s theme and the story that demonstrates it most:

I like the idea of the inevitability of love. I adore soulmate AUs, because I love the idea of a universe where not only does someone have a perfectly matched other person, but that there is a surefire way to find them. Even though I only published one soulmate AU this year, I feel like every time I write Snowbaz I am writing about a couple where love will, inevitably, win. In my mind they are always going to have a happy ending somewhere down the line where they are just purely in love. Even though love doesn’t magically fix everything, it’s still incredibly powerful, and I only want to create stories where Simon and Baz truly love each other.

Of course, with that as the theme, A Privilege to Love You has to be the fic that best demonstrates the idea of inevitable love - it’s a soulmate AU and a universe where Simon exercises his free will.

What are your fic writing goals for next year this year?

Finish and publish my Gentleman’s Guide AU

Finish and publish more soulmate AUs (I have so many WIPs you guys)

Plan more before writing

Work on improving dynamic scenes and the overall flow of my fics - I sometimes feel like I have too many lulls, and I want to write in a more engaging way

Promote my own work more! I am partially doing this post because there are multiple fics that I never shared on here! I plan to make banners for all of the fics I write this year, and to post them on tumblr at the same time I upload them to ao3.

The last few years have been a time of tremendous personal growth for me, and I really feel like I’m starting to understand who I am as a person, settle into myself, and like who I am. I’m thrilled to discover that fandom is still part of who I am and what I enjoy, and that I have more creative outlets in my life now than I ever expected to. My biggest goal is just to keep building on all of that, to use fic to explore who I am, to reflect what I like, make myself happy with my writing, and to hopefully make at least a few of you happy with my stories too!

#2020 fics #my writing #about me #year in review #fic masterpost #fanfic year in review #my fic #snowbaz #carry on

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silveryinkystar · 3 years

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For the ask game: Dystopian and coffee shop au?

Is this not just Hadestown Act 1

From this list

Ooh, this is a really interesting premise - it would work with quite a few different fandoms - for Star Wars, for example, it could be a post-Order 66 au of some sort where a few survivors chance upon each other in a coffee shop, and AtLA has great potential for a modern-esque setting where Ozai's reign is considered the tyrannical government of said dystopia (and the coffee shop is replaced by the Jasmine Dragon, naturally)

But I'm going a bit twisty on this one and returning to my MCU roots. This might not be a traditional dystopia, because it's been a while since I've actually read anything in the genre. It... may have turned into a ficlet of sorts in the process. I have no regrets.

So we've got the timelines all messed up, and at some point in the future, in one future, we've got a Thanos causing trouble and Thor desperately trying to keep his people together. Asgard is in shambles, they're all scattered all over the universe, the timelines are converging and now people are hopping all over time as well and trying to make a life for themselves that's somewhat stable.

And Thor, for all that he's been raised to be king, has no idea how to deal with this nonsense. And the only person who might be remotely qualified to handle this disaster is dead.

Or is he? This is only one timeline out of several, after all, and while Thor has tried to reach out to the other branches and realities to find solutions for the problems he's now facing, most of the Thors and Lokis don't have them. They're faring worse, or not faring at all, or in the same state as him - all too occupied with the welfare of their own timelines to think about others.

But then a rumour reaches him, years into the future, when order has lost meaning in the growing chaos, and Thor - Thor would love to help his friends fix this, but he's barely holding things together as it is.

Back to the rumour.

There's a cafe at the end of time. It's run by someone who goes by no name, who has managed to stay away from the chaos the entire time, who appears to have discovered the secret to keeping their life stable.

Thor seeks out this cafe.

It takes years, and he has to balance his hunt in between his duties as king, as guardian, and all the other responsibilities he's managed to accumulate - but he finds it eventually.

It's on a planet nestled in the middle of nowhere, that seems deserted. But there's a small amount of activity in and out of the planet's orbit, and Thor goes on.

The cafe is more secluded than the planet, if anyone can believe that - but Thor is past thinking of its mysteries. He seeks out this mysterious figure not because he wants the glory of being the first to that knowledge (he knows he isn't that, even with chronology being thrown off balance because of all the Norns-forsaken time travel), but because he'd like to help his people rest.

It's been years since Ragnarok, since Thanos attacked his people and left them for dead. It's been years since he took an axe to the Mad Titan's head, years since he'd cried over the body of his fallen brother.

He'd almost forgotten how slippery Loki could be.

"Good to see you again, brother."

Send me two (2) tropes from this list and I’ll describe how I’d combine them in the same story.

#this may kind of be a ficlet now?#i'm not sure where i went with this #anyways thank you for the prompt!!!#orange-tastes-like-fruit #velli answers #marvel #thor #brodinsons #loki series spoilers #kind of

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blakeylikestowrite · 4 years

Text

I don’t want a soulmate. (Prinxiety Oneshot)

Fandom: Sanders Sides Pairing(s): Prinxiety Word count: 2,893 Summary: Virgil isn't very fond of the whole soulmates thing. His parents are expecting his soulmate to be a woman but Virgil knows better. But he isn't ready to tell them. Naturally when he meets his soulmate, he tries to push him away. Warnings: small mention of an anxiety attack Genre(s): Fluff, a little bit of Angst AU(s): Human AU, Soulmate AU (the one with the tattoos that say what the first thing your soulmate will say to you)

Virgil was sitting on his bed just staring at his wrist. He knew he was going to meet his soulmate eventually. But he really didn't want to. His parents were obsessed with this whole soulmate thing. They were contiously asking him if he had finally met "her". Not once did they consider his soulmate might be a man. He wasn't so sure if they would be as excited as they currently were if they found out that his soulmate wasn't a woman. Virgil didn't like having a soulmate. He wasn't sure whether that was because his parents were annoyingly obsessed with this mystery person he had yet to meet or that he wasn't ready to come out as gay. He spent more time staring at the black words on his wrist than he'd like to admit. He seriously didn't want to meet his soulmate. But at the same time he couldn't help wondering what kind of person he was. "Sweetie! Time for school!", his mom called from downstairs. Virgil got up from his bed and picked up his backpack. "Coming!", he replied. He took his time going downstairs. He wished his parents a good morning and hurriedly made himself a sandwich, so he could eat on the way to the bus stop. "I'm leaving now. See you later.", he let his parents know and hit the road. Today was one of those days again. He wished he could have just stayed in bed. When he was close enough to the bus stop to be able to see it, the bus was already there. "Shit...", Virgil muttered to himself and started sprinting towards the bus. He almost made it in time. Almost. When he arrived at the bus stop the bus' doors closed. Virgil watched the bus drive away. "Of fucking curse. Just my fucking luck.", Virgil cursed. He sat down on a bench. After all, all he could do was wait for the next bus. He saw a tall guy running towards him from the direction the bus had driven off to. He stopped in front of Virgil. Before he could say anything, Virgil told him: "The bus is gone if that's what you were going to ask.". The guy looked really startled for a few seconds before replying: "Darn it... Well, at least I have such cute company.". Virgil's eyes went wide. It couldn't be. He quickly rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie, revealing the words that guy had just said in black cursive writing. He looked up at the guy again. "You're...", he started. The guy showed him his wrist. He had hoped that it was just a coincidence but his wrist said "The bus is gone if that's what you were going to ask". "I'm Roman and you?", his soulmate introduced himself. "Virgil.", he responded. Roman sat down next to him. "Do you know when the next bus will arrive?", Roman asked. "In like an hour, we'll be incredibly late.", Virgil replied. "But look on the bright side! We have an entire hour to get to know each other!", Roman exclaimed. "No, thank you.", Virgil huffed. Roman was extremely caught off guard by that response. This was his soulmate after all. Why wouldn't he want to get to know him? He had just met him and already managed to screw it up somehow. "Why not?", Roman asked. "I... I'm not into guys.", Virgil lied. "Nonsense, you're my soulmate. There's no way you're not into guys.", Roman said, "So what is this really about?". Virgil sighed. "Look. I'm not a big fan of this whole soulmate thing. My parents are super annoying everytime it becomes a conversation topic. Plus they expect my soulmate to be a woman. I don't want to disappoint them. So I guess I'm just scared? I don't want to have to keep a relationship from them because I don't want to come out to them. And you know how this thing goes. We will fall in love if we get to know each other. It's our stupid destiny.", he explained. "Oh... That's understandable... I was so excited to finally meet my soulmate. I kept fantasising about our future together and what you might be like. This isn't anything like I expected it to be. But if you don't want anything to do with me, I can't change that.", Roman replied. Virgil felt extremely guilty seeing the frown on Roman's face. "I thought about what you might be like a lot too..", Virgil admitted, "I wish I wasn't such a coward, so we could make this work...". "You're not a coward! Coming out is very scary. I didn't come out to my parents until 3 years after I figured out I wasn't straight. Does that make me a coward?", Roman argued. Virgil shook his head in response. "Then you're not a coward either.", Roman insisted. "I guess you're right...", Virgil muttered. "I know.", Roman chuckled, "Tell me a bit more about yourself. What do you like to do in your free time?". Virgil - despite not wanting to talk to Roman earlier - replied: "Well... I love listening to music. I'm really into Emo. I love singing and I spend most of my time on tumblr.". "Oh, I adore singing!", Roman declared, "I listen to Emo sometimes too. I can't deny that the music is good. I also love drawing and acting! Or any kind of creative work for that matter ". "We should sing a duet some day.", Virgil suggested. "I would love that.", Roman replied without any hesitation. "But no lovey-dovey pop songs, we're definitely not at that stage of our relationship yet.", Virgil said jokingly, "I'm talking Mcr or Panic!.". "That's alright by me.", Roman said, "So... Do you still want nothing to do with me?". "I would be lying if I said yes.", Virgil admitted. Roman started beaming with joy. "Fuck, why are you so cute?", the emo muttered. "You think I'm cute?", Roman laughed. "Well yeah... Especially with that look on your face.", Virgil grumbled. "I think we already established that I think you're cute, right? Cause I think you're cute.", his soulmate said. "No, I'm not.", Virgil protested. "Yes, you are. You're really really cute.", the other insisted. "Whatever.", Virgil scoffed. He turned his face away, so Roman wouldn't see that he was blushing. "I'm sorry, my chemically imbalanced romance. I didn't mean to embarass you.", Roman said. "Don't call me that.", Virgil retorted. "Sorry. I like giving people nicknames. I just came up with that one.", Roman apologised. "It's okay. It's kinda endearing, actually.", Virgil admitted. They went on to talk for a while before the bus finally arrived. They got on the bus and sat down next to each other. "Do you mind if I listen to some music on one ear?", Virgil asked. "I have a better idea. Give me the other ear bud. I wanna listen too.", Roman suggested. Virgil shrugged. He took his phone and his headphones out of his backpack and plugged in the headphones. Then he put one ear bud into his right ear and gave Roman the other one to put it into his left ear. He put his playlist on shuffle and Come Home With Me from Hadestown started playing. "You like musicals?", Roman asked. "Did I forget to mention that?", Virgil responded with another question, "Yeah, I do. Hadestown is currently my favorite.". "Mine too!", Roman exclaimed. They spent the entire bus ride gushing about their favorite musicals. Virgil really liked Roman. He was good-looking. He was really nice and they even shared a few interests. It scared him how much he already liked Roman. They arrived at the school and hurried to their classes. But not before exchanging phone numbers because Roman insisted. A few weeks passed and texting Roman quickly replaced being on tumblr as Virgil's main activity. He didn't tell his parents that he had met his soulmate. He didn't like lying to them but he was too scared to tell the truth. It was a sunny afternoon and Virgil had gotten home from school 2 hours ago. He saw his phone's screen light up because of a notification. He became really excited when he saw that Roman had texted him. "Wanna meet up at that park near your house?", he mouthed as he read the message. He typed in: "Why, of course I do.", added a red heart and sent it. Oh no. Was the heart too much? He didn't have a lot of time to freak out because Roman immediately replied: "Great! See you soon." with a red heart at the end. He went from freaking out about the red heart at the end of his message to freaking out about the red heart at the end of Roman's message really quick. He hurried downstairs and told his parents: "I'm meeting up with Patton.", while putting on his shoes. He didn't even wait for a reply. He rushed outside and went to the park as fast as he could. Roman was already there when he arrived. "We really need to talk.", he said and held a beautiful bouquet of roses out to Virgil. It would be an understatement to say that Virgil was a little taken aback. He hestitantly accepted the roses while fighting the urge to hide his blushing face. "Thank you..", Virgil said, a small smile forming on his face, "What did you want to talk about?". "I wanted to talk about us.", Roman replied. Virgil felt panic rising up inside him. "What is it?", Virgil stammered. "I know you said you didn't want to date me because you don't want to have a secret relationship behind your parents back but...", Roman started to explain. He took Virgil's free hand and looked him straight in the eyes before softly uttering: "I fell in love with you, Virgil.". Virgil's eyes went wide and he kept looking back and forth between their touching hands and Roman's face. "Are you serious?", he asked, a part of him hoping he wasn't and another part of him ready to celebrate if he was. "Yes. Why wouldn't I?", Roman responded. "I... I fell in love with you too.", Virgil confessed. Upon hearing that, Roman was bursting with joy. "You did? Then... Do you think we can make this work?", he asked. "I don't know... I really want to.. But my parents-", Virgil said. He was interrupted by Roman exclaiming: "Don't worry about your parents! Right now you're here with me. So how do you wanna go on from here?". Virgil put the rose bouquet on a bench next to them and took a few steps closer to Roman. They were standing so close to each other that the noses were almost touching. "What are you waiting for?", Roman asked with a cocky smile on his face. Virgil playfully rolled his eyes and placed his hand on Roman's cheek before crashing their lips together. Roman closed his eyes and let out a sigh of contentment. They didn't kiss for a very long time. It was as short as it was sweet and loving. They felt themselves yearning for their lips to meet again as soon as it was over. "Wow.", Roman said. Virgil chuckled. "Couldn't have said it better.", he replied. They sat down on the bench Virgil had set down the bouquet and Virgil cuddled up to Roman. They spent the rest of the afternoon cuddling on that park bench. Eventually Virgil had to head back home. "One last thing! Are we a thing now?", Roman asked. Virgil simply nodded. "So... You're my boyfriend now.", Roman stated. He suddenly became very giggly. "I like how that sounds. My boyfriend.", he said in between the cutest giggles Virgil had ever heard. "I like it too.", Virgil replied, "I really need to go now.". He gave Roman a peck on the lips and they said their goodbyes. Then Virgil hurried back home. "Hi, sweetie! Did you have fun?", his mom greeted him. "Yeah, I-", Virgil started his sentence only to be interrupted by his mom gasping. He shot a confused look at her. "Your mark!", she squealed. His dad came running and grabbed Virgil's arm. He rolled up his son's sleeve and had a similar reaction to his wife. And then Virgil realised. That stupid mark changed color after you shared your first kiss with your soulmate. He had kissed Roman, so of course his soulmate mark had changed color. And of course his parents just had to notice it. "You finally met her!", Virgil's mom cheered. "Tell us everything.", his dad added. "I-", he croaked. He slowly felt himself losing control over his breathing and his fight or flight reflexes took over. He turned around and sprinted up to his room. He barely managed to lock the door before falling to the ground. He rocked back and forth and started hyperventilating. His parents were knocking on the door but he could barely hear them. He was losing his grip on reality. Then he heard his phone buzz. He took his phone with shaking hands and saw that Roman had texted him. Perfect timing. He had noticed the change of color of the mark too and asked if Virgil was alright. Virgil typed in what happened - many typos happening due to his shaking hans - and sent a reply. He got a little spooked when he saw that Roman was calling him but he picked up anyway. "Virge, can you tell me 5 things you can see?", Roman asked. "I see... My phone. My bed. My lamp. My Mcr albums. And my headphones.", Virgil counted out. "Good job!", Roman commended him, "Now tell me 4 things you can touch.". "My phone. My legs. The floor. The door.", Virgil did as he was told. His breathing started to even out again. "You're doing good so far. Now three things you can hear.", Roman continued. "My parents, the knocking on the door, you.", Virgil was slowly calming down as he spoke. "Good. Now two things you can smell.", Roman had memorised this routine for moments like this. He wanted to be able to help. "The food downstairs. And for some reason you.", Virgil was almost completely calmed down now. To him it felt like Roman was right next to him even though they were just talking on the phone. "And one thing you can taste?", Roman asked. "A bland taste in my mouth.", Virgil replied. "And you did it! Congratulations!", Roman cheered, "How are you feeling? Do you want me to come over and cuddle?". "I'm feeling a lot better. Thanks. I would love to but what about my parents?", his emo boyfriend answered. "Maybe they can handle the truth?", Roman suggested. Virgil sighed. "This is gonna go horribly wrong. But I really need your cuddles. And I'll have to tell them soon anyway.. I know they won't let this go.", he said. "I'll be at your door in 5 minutes!", and with that Roman hung up. Virgil unlocked his door and opened it. He looked at his confused parents and said: "Someone is coming over.". "Is it her? Your soulmate?", his dad gasped. Virgil didn't say anything and went downstairs. He waited for Roman and ignored all of his parents' attempts of talking to him. Finally the door bell rang. Virgil tore open the door and pulled Roman into a tight embrace. "Who is this?", Virgil's mom asked. Virgil let go of Roman. He took his boyfriends hand, took a deep breath and said: "Mom? Dad? This is Roman. He's my soulmate.". After getting over her initial shock, Virgil's mom greeted Roman: "Hello, dear! Would you like to stay for dinner?". "That's very sweet but-", Roman protested. He was interrupted by Virgil's dad saying: "No, we insist. Please stay for dinner.". Virgil looked bewildered. "You don't mind?", he asked his parents. "Why would we?", his dad responded with another question. "I always thought... you really wanted my soulmate to be a woman.", he admitted. "Oh my gosh... I am so sorry..", his mom said and hugged him, "Is that why you didn't want to tell us about your soulmate?". Virgil nodded. "Honey, I am so so so so sorry.", she apologised. "I'm really sorry too, Virgil.. I never wanted to make you feel like you couldn't tell us about this.", Virgil's dad apologised as well and hugged him. "See? They can handle the truth.", Roman whispered. "You were right, you were right.", Virgil admitted. "Does the offer of staying for dinner still count?", Roman asked as he intertwined Virgil's and his hands. "Of course!", his boyfriend's mom replied. And so they went to the kitchen and sat down. The dinner was wonderful. Roman was being his usual flamboyant, confident self and Virgil's parents adored him. It was like all of Virgil's fears about coming out to his parents had washed away. Like they never existed. Virgil was happy. He was happy that his parents accepted him. He was happy that they liked his boyfriend. He was happy to have Roman by his side. And most importantly, he was happy that he would soon be able to show the world how much he loved the man holding his hand without having to worry about what his parents would think. Maybe - just maybe - having a soulmate wasn't so bad.

#prinxiety #ts prinxiety #sanders sides fic #sanders sides #sanders sides prinxiety #ts virgil #ts roman #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #oneshot

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margridarnauds · 4 years

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Topic - English language productions of German language musicals (should they happen? Why don’t they? Just how bad was DotV?)

To quote a friend: OhOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO.

Personally, I feel like, at this point, the era for German language musicals to be translated is long since gone. It isn’t that I’m THRILLED for this, because I think there’s potential, but I feel like the time that it REALLY could have worked would have been in the 80s-90s. But, since that time, the era of the megamusical....it’s gone. It was gone with Lestat, it was gone with Tanz, and it was one of the reasons why The Pirate Queen....sank (though I have further Thoughts on the Pirate Queen that would require a different post entirely.) These days, musicals tend to be....well. Pop-y. Not as many big-budget historical musicals that rely a lot on spectacle. Taking something like Elisabeth or Tanz to the stage now....it would be totally out of touch with the current mood on Broadway, unless you decided to dip dye the Sternenkleid pink. HAD Rebecca not been subjected to....That™, it might have had a chance, since it, at least, has source material that American audiences are more likely to be familiar with, but, in all honesty, I still think it would have died a fiery death. Broadway, in general, doesn’t have much of a taste for the gothic (Hadestown is probably the closest, off the top of my head. Phantom’s still kicking, but people go to see Phantom by virtue of it being PHANTOM ) It tends to play things relatively safe and, for the most part, most of the musicals that seem to REALLY do well are the ones that will appeal to the tourists.

Now. As for personal taste. It isn’t something I talk about TOO often, but I obviously love gothic spectacles and, therefore, haven’t really been feeling at home with the Broadway crowd since....well. 2016. That’s partially why I left Broadway and decided to stick to Europe, Japan, and Korea, because there IS a market for gothic spectacles there, it’s...homier, in a sense. (And we get regular productions of Dracula.) I do feel there’s something OFF about the fact that just about every single major musical market in the world can handle these but not American/English audiences but....well. I don’t know HOW the American market would react to something that didn’t come from there, at the risk of sounding condescending to our shared country..............they don’t really like to step out of their comfort zone.

I honestly don’t believe DOTV was as bad as the fandom generally makes it out to be. I DO think the humor, including the opening scene, can be.....wie sagt man.....cringe. It was too self aware, tried to parody itself TOO HARD, to the extent that the emotional scenes just didn’t hit right. (How can you take Confessions of a Vampire seriously when, ten seconds ago, they were making dick jokes? “Your banana is peeling” is seared into my brain forever.) Herbert, while always an offensive predatory gay stereotype, is somehow taken to new heights here. But, then again, some extreme fan reactions make it sound like humor, including cringey humor NEVER existed in Tanz before then, and I’m just like “I’m so glad you were able to exorcize the Magda Boob Staking Scene from your mind, because I can’t.” I feel like a lot of the issues with Dance were there in the source material to begin with, in all honesty, not the least because our source material here is a Roman Polanski movie.

While it has its flaws, I believe, firmly, that it made the RIGHT decision in making Sarah the indisputable protagonist of the piece. I don’t care what Michael Kunze says (honestly, keeping Kunze as far away from the Broadway production as possible might have been the best possible decision, because the man must have sold his soul to write women well in one musical and was never able to repeat the trick)- Sarah should always have been the protagonist to begin with; the gothic genre has, traditionally, centered women and their journeys at the centre of it, and, anyway, Sarah’s arc about choosing to be a vampire over the abusive family structure she grew up in is much more interesting to me, personally, than.....whatever Alfred has. Alfred, as a character, is rather cardboard to me, I’m ngl, and has the unfortunate, fatal flaw of being written by Roman Polanski as a self insert on top of that. His general existence has always kind of been the evidence, for me, that this show was very, very much written by men. His arc has always seemed....Nice Guy-ish™. Not in the sense of him actually BEING a Nice Guy, but in the sense that the message that it sends is somewhere along the lines of “She doesn’t REALLY know what she wants. One day, if you keep trying hard enough, that hot girl will leave her douchebag vampire boyfriend and be with you.” Now, EVERY iteration of Dance has that, to some extent, but I feel like centering Sarah at least mitigates it to some extent, especially since Mandy Gonzales did a really, really vibrant, very ALIVE Sarah who took life by the reins every step of the way. Dance also, in my opinion, handles the Magda and Rebecca situation better. Not WELL, because you would have to create an entirely different show for that, but BETTER.

That being said....really? Killing Krolock? Really? Come on.

#long post #former-main-blog-ignore

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therainbowwillow · 4 years

Text

here is part 4: https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/640369768122253312/therainbowwillow

Part 5/??? of my Hadestown AU!

Here’s the premise/ last time on this AU:

Hades’s coping method of murdering people is somehow making him feel worse. Now that he has Orpheus locked up he has to confront his emotions. (Shudders) Thanatos, god of the dead quietly refuses to kill Orpheus, leaving him balancing a thin line between life and death. Orpheus ends up in a dark prison, where his only interactions are with Hades. He’s alone and afraid and he’s lost track of how long he’s been locked away. His memory is hazy. He’s lost hope for any chance of rescue. Eurydice is increasingly worried about Orpheus. He’s breathing, half-alive, but she doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold on for long. Persephone is tired of her husband. Achilles and Patroclus are debating whether or not they should cross the Styx and live in the overworld again, given that they have no home and no living family or friends outside. Hermes, Dionysus and Apollo have finally reached the edge of the Styx.

———————————————

The train squeals to a halt. Thanatos pulls the doors open. Dionysus and Apollo step out first. “Best of luck,” the god of death mutters to Hermes. He nods.

The Styx stretches out before them, its dark waters flow in torrents. Beyond it, Hades’s wall rises high. “This is the underworld, huh?” Apollo shifts his footing. “It’s hotter than I expected. And... darker.”

Dionysus kneels at the bank of the Styx. “Just like I remembered,” he says with a smile. “Cerberus!” He calls.

Apollo just about collapses in fright as the dog trots to Dionysus’s side. “Hey buddy!” Dionysus has to stand on his tippy-toes to scratch behind one of Cerberus’s six ears. “How’s mama? I hope father is treating you well.”

Cerberus notices Dionysus’s companions and growls, loud and deep. “Oh hush. They’re with me. You know Hermes.” Hermes nods, keeping adequate distance between himself and the massive canine. “And that’s Apollo. He’s new.”

Apollo is silent for once.

“If mama’s doing okay, I’ll be back later!” He lowers his voice. “Cerb, I know things have been rough. And I know Hades has been... well... if you see him, give him some love for me. Now. Can we cross?” Cerberus steps back. Dionysus smiles. “Thanks buddy.”

He beckons to Hermes and Apollo. He turns back to the Styx and grape vines spring from the ground, weaving their way across the river as if to form a bridge. Hermes grabs Apollo’s wrist. “Come on. Can’t stand around gawking all day.”

——————————————

The farther they’d come from heart of Hadestown, the clearer the air had become. Orpheus breaths no easier, Eurydice notes. They’d walked four days since he’d passed out and his condition hadn’t improved.

Eurydice sits against a rock. She hums the notes of Orpheus’s song to herself. It’s easier to remember her goal with his song, she’s found. His lyre sits in her lap. She wishes she knew how to play.

“How far’s the Styx?” She asks Persephone.

“A three days’ walk. We’re close.”

“Will he wake when we’re out of here?” Eurydice already knows the answer.

“I don’t know. Get some sleep. The closer we get to the outside world, the more you’ll need to act like a mortal. You aren’t as much a shade as you were in the mines.”

Eurydice nods and closes her eyes.

Achilles and Patroclus take the first watch while their companions sleep.

“How’s your shoulder?” Achilles asks.

Patroclus shrugs. “Better, I suppose.”

“We’ll reach the Styx soon,” Achilles says. “Will you cross?”

“You weren’t planning to?” Patroclus asks, surprised.

“What’s out there for us? The war is over, everyone we knew is long dead. We’re dirt-poor. Where would we go?”

“Persephone would provide for us. Achilles, if we stay here... We can’t fight the Lethe forever. Hades would separate us and our memories would fade until we’d be forced to join the ranks of the shades as two more broken-spirited nobodies!”

Achilles sighs. “We’d have to work every second of our lives if we left.”

“We could work together, at least.”

He nods. “I guess aything is better than this.”

“And this is almost over.” Patroclus smiles. “We’ll get to see the sun and the stars again. I miss stargazing with you. Watching the sunrise. I miss... I miss living, Achilles.”

“I miss it as well. I never got a chance to say goodbye to life. After I lost you, I didn’t think about living anymore. I just wanted to see you again. Sometimes I wish... after all this time down here... that I’d really appreciated what I had before I lost it. It would be easier to remember.”

“I feel the same about Elysium,” Patroclus says. “Hades took everything from us. We had a future ahead of us, an eternity in paridise.”

“We’re always fighting to keep what we can’t have. You died for me. We thought it was over. Then Hades took Elysium and we fought all over again to keep our paradise. And when we lost, we fought to keep our memories. You think it’ll be different this time?” Achilles asks.

“All we can do is hope.”

Achilles nods. They look up at the empty sky, hand in hand.

———————————————

Orpheus coughs. Four days? Five days? A month? He doesn’t remember how long he’s been here. There are shouts from the neighboring cell. At least it’s something to listen to.

“You know why you’re here?” A woman’s voice trills.

“No!” A man shouts. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“They say you have a connection to the Olympians.”

“That isn’t true!” He shouts.

“They want the boy back. The poet boy. You’re a spy,” she accuses.

“No, no I’m not! You don’t underst-“

There’s a sharp crack. Orpheus winces.

“Ugh...”

Orpheus hears the man slide down his cell’s wall.

“I’m no spy,” he pleads. His voice sounds as if he’s holding his nose.

“Liar. You were once a lover of Apollo. You’re aiding him.”

The man’s breaths are heavy. “I can’t remember anything.”

“You heard the song.”

“How long ago was that?” He groans. “I can’t remember a thing. If wanted to help, I couldn’t. And why would I? Whoever I loved, he let me die.”

“Get up, pathetic boy.”

Orpheus hears his shuffling against the stones.

“I’ll take double shifts at the mines. Let me out of here, please,” the man begs.

“We’ll talk when you’re ready to tell me the truth.” The door clangs shut. The woman’s footsteps fade down the hall. Orpheus hears a whimper of pain.

“Hey,” he mumbles, desperate to speak to someone, “I won’t lie, it doesn’t get easier.”

“Do I know you?” The man asks through the wall.

“I couldn’t say. I... I don’t remember much,” Orpheus admits. He’d tried his best to repeat names and events to himself, but eventually he’d fallen asleep and forgotten what he was meant to be repeating.

“You sound familiar.”

“If you remember my name... I’d like to know,” Orpheus whispers.

“I’ll tell you.”

Orpheus’s cell door opens, bathing him in dull neon lights. He doesn’t react.

“Orpheus.” His name, he realizes.

“Hades,” he rasps.

Hades sits beside him.

“This is my eternity.” Orpheus’s voice is empty, devoid of emotion. He doesn’t open his eyes.

Hades looks at the boy. He hates the way Orpheus controls him. He hates that song that can wake his soul. But he wants to hear it again. “Look at me.”

Orpheus looks. Hades sits before him, twice. He’s seeing double, he notices.

“Sing your pretty little song,” Hades demands.

“I...” Orpheus sighs. “I don’t remember it.”

“You remembered last time. Sing.”

Orpheus turns away. “No,” he whimpers. “If I do...” A little sob escapes his lips. “I’ll just forget again. And again. And again!” He yells. “I don’t want to remember, only to forget all over again.” He lifts his head. “Give me oblivion. Throw me to the mines. Anything but this.”

“I said,” Hades growls, “sing.”

A wave of nausea hits him. He presses his head against the ground. “La... la la...” he coughs. His chest heaves with effort.

“Sing, boy!”

“La... la...” Orpheus chokes on the underworld air. He coughs and coughs until he’s too weak to cough anymore. Hades face spins before him. Tears sting his eyes. “I... I can’t.”

Hades stands. He watches Orpheus, shaking with sobs. He takes a step back. “No...” Orpheus whispers. “Please don’t leave me here.”

Hades’s shoulders sink. He kneels at the poet’s side. He takes a flask of Dionysus’s alcohol from his pocket and unscrews the cap. He lifts Orpheus effortlessly and holds the bottle against the boy’s lips. “Drink.” He tilts the flask and Orpheus swallows. He pushes Orpheus’s matted hair out of his eyes.

“T-thank you.” Orpheus whispers.

Hades wraps his coat around Orpheus’s shaking body. “You... You’re alright. Breathe, kid.”

“I... I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Just relax.” Hades holds Orpheus awkwardly. “Listen. I... I’m not coming back here. Just go, kid.”

Hades twists a key into the locks binding Orpheus’s wrists. The chains fall away. He slumps into Hades arms. The king of the dead lets Orpheus stay there for a moment. Then he lays he boy on the ground again, still bundled in his coat. He leaves the door open behind him.

PS. Thank you dearly to my loyal fandom, @thewittyphantom and @lady-of-the-upside-down

#hadestown au #hadestown fanfic #hadestown #therainbowwrites

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