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fbfh · 4 years

Text

“forever” paxton hall-yoshida x reader

genre: fluffy romance + mutual pining (not too slowburn tho lol)

word count: 3.4k

au: none?? jock x theatre nerd ig

pairing: Paxton x broadway baby!reader

requested: yes !! i hope u like it uwu

warnings: one hell one motherfucking and i think that’s it for swearing?? um brief self deprecating/talking bad abt urself from paxton (bby boy needs a self love boost), reader and paxton are home alone together for a little while but nothing bad happens, uh,,, i think that’s it

summary: when Eleanor can’t run lines with you, she sends over a very attractive, mutually pining substitute.

reccomended songs: “Seventeen” - Tuck everlasting OBC, “The Kiss” -The Princess Diaries score

a/n: i’m p sure i kept the reader p gender neutral but there’s implied slightly long hair, and you play the lead (a girl named winnie) in ur schools production of tuck everlasting but like it’s theatre so anyone can play anyone lol,, this took so got dam long bc i’m fucking s o f t for jock x artist and it just sorta happened lol aLsO,, not super thoroughly edited so there might be a typo or two?? im tired lol

requests r open <3

You had only ever seen two athletes present during rehearsals. Once when Madeline (who at the time was playing Penny in your production of Hairspray) was dating a guy from the soccer team. The other was when the star of the basketball team had come in to give your choreographer pointers for the basketball scenes during High School Musical.

Until now.

You had run onstage part of the way through “Live Like This”, which wasn’t out of the ordinary since so much progress had been made on the costumes. You were still tying the ribbon on your pinafore as you jumped into the song, but when your eyes met a face in the usually empty auditorium, you faltered. You almost sang the wrong verse, but recovered quickly, continuing with the blocking. What felt like a moment later, the number was almost done and you were nearing the end of your counterpoint with Mae Tuck - played by Eleanor, of course. Who could be better for the part? You held out the last note, trying to stay in character despite all the distractions in the back of your mind. You had to talk to Eleanor when the director called for 10; she’d started telling you how Devi was being weird recently. Also, what the Hadestown was Paxton Hall-Yoshida doing chilling in the auditorium? You shoved all that away, focusing on staying in character until the director called for a break.

‘I want to go to the fair. I want to go so badly! I just need a change, need to get out of this house for a little while. I never do anything, so this can’t be asking for too much, right?’

You projected all that into your everything - face, voice, mannerisms, energy.

“Hold!”

Everyone froze.

The director wrote a few things on his paper, sighed, and underlined something several times.

“Okay, good job! I need to revise some of the blocking, then we’ll do notes, so take ten.” Your sudden nerves had definitely made you pitchy, you knew that would be one of your notes for sure.

A chorus of “Thank you ten”s erupted, and you immediately ran to Eleanor, telling the others good job as you passed.

You leaned in and started speaking to her, quietly.

“Okay you need to finish telling me about Devi, and that other news you’re being so cryptic about! Also, what’s up with Fierro over there?” you nodded towards Paxton hoping he wouldn’t see, and you noticed Fab is sitting near him. You realized they’re probably waiting for Eleanor and/or Devi. That must be it, he’s been hanging out with them lately, right? Eleanor gasped.

“You’re right! Paxton is such a Fierro!”

You cringed inwardly a little bit as her voice carried through the auditorium, mixing with the others. Your eyes darted over to him for a fraction of a second. Oh god. He was looking at you. Or in your general direction at least. Lena, the costumer, walked around the set gingerly, following you around and getting you out of your dress incredibly carefully as you and Eleanor walked off stage.

“No! Well, yes- but no. What’s he doing here? Jocks never come here during rehearsals. I saw Fab too, are you guys and Devi getting dinner or something?” You said, entering the auditorium, and stepping out of the dress. You grabbed sweatpants and a silky, floral kimono jacket from your bag to throw over your leotard and tights. She waved back at Fab before sitting down in the front. You both grabbed your fans and dramatically flicked them open in sync. Your wrists fluttered, cooling both of you off. A knowing, and slightly mischievous, look came on her face.

“Devi and Fab and I are. Paxton must be here for something… else.” she shrugged, nodding towards Paxton. You looked over again. He was staring at you. You did a double take and tried to hold back your smile.

“Wh- I do not know to what you are referring.”

“To what I am referring is the blush on his cheeks.”

You barely held back a nervous, bubbling laugh.

“He is not blushing! Why would he be blushing!”

“I don’t know,” She shrugged, “Just like how I don’t know that he’s been loitering in the halls outside the music room during your last three solo music rehearsals.”

You struggled for an answer. Before you could form one, you were interrupted.

“Okay, okay what is the best Lin Manuel Miranda musical? Because Kathryn thinks it’s Hamilton-”

“Duh!”

“-But I think it’s In the Heights! It’s an underrated jewel!” Jonah interjected, still wearing his Jesse Tuck hat.

You considered for a moment.

“I mean, they’re too different to compare. In the Heights has the same energy as Rent - showcasing what goes on in ordinary people’s lives, and how love ties us all together,” he nodded in agreement, “But Hamilton is on a way larger scale, almost Les Mis meets Fun Home vibes. But in terms of personal preference…” Eleanor scoffed at your answer, and Jonah went back to debate further with Kathryn.

“Anyway,” you turned back to Eleanor to ask her what the hell she meant by Paxton Hall-Yoshida was blushing. But before you could-

“Eleanor, we need you to try on your blue dress again,” Lena was already pulling her away, “I had the empire waist in the right place but half the pins fell out, and it’s just...” And she was whisked away before you could finish the thought. You just had time to help Holly get out her wig pins and drink some lemon water before notes. Eleanor still wasn’t back, so you made sure to write down hers for her. It was pretty standard; be quiet backstage, go over your lines, don’t touch props that aren’t yours, don’t eat in costume, and a couple blocking changes you made note of. After your end of rehearsal warm downs and huddle, everyone left relatively quickly. You ducked into the bathroom to freshen up a little. Sometimes it was hard coming down from such intense energy after rehearsal. You mentally ran through your to do list. You needed to get some more tea, write that essay when you got home, go over your notes- You gasped, cutting off your own train of thought. You ran out of the bathroom to look for Eleanor, still clutching her notes in hand.

Your voice still echoed in Paxton’s ears. He wished he had a whole album of you singing. Your voice made him want to ruin his spotify algorithm by listening to nothing else. You had looked at him a couple times, and his heart had almost stopped. He didn’t know eye contact could be so intense. It’s probably just cause you’re like, the only person in the audience. Where else is she supposed to look? He deflated a little. He heard his name and looked over to you and Eleanor talking together. Hopefully it was about him. Hopefully it was good. He checked his phone, trying to look busy. When he glanced up to see if you were looking, you were gone. He started to look around for you when he saw Eleanor waving at Fab, and sure enough, you were next to her. What he didn’t expect was you dropping your dress to the ground. Time slowed down (and his heart sped up) as you stretched a little, and pulled out sweatpants from your bag.

Wow.

You had on what looked like a bathing suit on underneath, and a few other people had done the same, but he knew that image would be in his memory, probably forever. His heart was beating in his ears and he knew he must be blushing.

“You okay, Paxton?” Fab asked, a seat or two away. Oh god, he didn’t want people asking why he blushed every time he looked at you! He muttered something about needing to make a call and headed for the doors. Don’t look back at her, don’t look back at her… His eyes involuntarily darted in your direction right before he left. You had on a flowy translucent jacket, your hair thrown back supermodel style as you fanned yourself to cool down. He needed to cool down too. Maybe a cold shower, a really cold shower.

You managed to find Eleanor just before she left. Two girls were with her, you had seen Fab once, and you’d heard a lot about Devi, but had never been introduced.

You gave Eleanor her notes, and she hugged you.

“You’re a lifesaver!”

“Of course, I-”

“Uh, who’s this?” you looked over, and the shorter girl - Devi, based on what you’d heard about her - was giving you a weird look. You introduced yourself.

“Nice to meet you. How do you know Eleanor?” said the taller girl - definitely Fab.

“Oh,” you smiled, “she’s my almost mother in law. And my arch rival,” you counted on your fingers, “my sister, my niece, my lover, my husband, and…” you trailed off, trying to think of the other dynamics your characters had had in past shows.

“Your co-conspirator.”

“Right,” you laughed. Devi and Fab looked at you two.

“We’re in the musical together.” you clarified. You were about to part ways when you called to Eleanor, “Hey, we’re still on for running lines tomorrow night?”

“Uh… Sounds good!” she walked away quickly, speaking to Devi and Fab in hushed tones. Something was definitely up. That was typical Eleanor Scheming behavior.

That night, you almost couldn’t sleep. This wasn’t the normal post rehearsal can’t sleep. In fact, Tuck Everlasting was the last thing on your mind as you readjusted your pillows and snuggled into your duvet. You stared at the neon blue stars projected and swirling on your ceiling. You sighed. Again. Your brain was a 24/7 livestream of Paxton Hall-Yoshida to relax/study to. You saw him again, his face in the dimly lit auditorium, Adonis in a sea of faded seats. If you hadn’t been sure before, you knew now that red was definitely his color. You rolled onto your side. Your heart picked up speed as a thought crossed your mind. You could almost see Paxton now, kneeling next to you, his fingertips brushing your cheek. The piano underscore to “Seventeen” ran through your mind. You could imagine him saying “Wait with me, we could share the world…” so vividly it almost hurt. He leaned in, and…

You let out a loud sigh and rolled over again. Your heart was fully saturated. That’s more than enough pining for tonight.

“Paxton!”

He was a little surprised when Eleanor just walked up to him at lunch the next day. Most people were too intimidated to approach him out of the blue.

“I have a plan.”

“Uh, I don’t know what you-”

“Cut the crap, I know you like her.”

His face blanched. Well, yeah of course he did. Who wouldn’t? He was going to ask Eleanor if there was something he could do to win you over, just not here, not now. Not where everyone could watch and jeer and rib him for it. Just like they were doing now.

“Woah, dude, who is it?” Trent asked. He fumbled for words. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He hadn’t kept his crush a secret because he was embarrased of you, he’d kept it a secret because his dumbass friends wouldn’t get you. Hell, he barely got you. You were so deep, and emotive, and artistic...

“Bro, if you like her as much as it seems like you do,” Trent continued, “you gotta win her over.” He was a little shocked at the agreement murmuring through his group of friends. He didn’t know how to respond. Trent turned to Eleanor.

“What’s the plan, drama mama?”

“First of all,” she said, an almost humorously dangerous look on her face, “never call me that again. Second,” she shoved some papers into Paxton’s hands, “meet me in the music room immediately after school.” She started back for her table. Trent looked back over to Paxton.

“You gotta do it, dude. We’ll cover for you at swim.”

The rest of his friends agreed. He was pleasantly surprised at how supportive they were being.

“Yeah, I guess... we’ve got a plan.”

The next day went by pretty smoothly. No rehearsal was scheduled since they were finishing construction for some of the sets, but everyone was instructed to do a couple read throughs of the script, focusing on scenes they’re still forgetting, to make sure everyone’s off book. You stopped by 7 Eleven to get a blue slurpee (for homework) and a couple coconut waters (for run throughs). You texted Eleanor on your way to the slurpee machine.

okay so do you like the mango coconut water or the pineapple one?? It’s the mango one right?? i always forget lmao

sent at 4:16 pm

btw I don’t have that much homework so you can probs come by around 5:30 if you’re ready by then

sent at 4:16 pm

Bae Tuck

OMFG!! I totally forgot about running lines tonight, I can’t make it! :( but I’ll send someone over to help you out. :)

sent at 4:17 pm

You squinted at your screen. That was weird. Eleanor never used colon parentheses smilies. Like, ever. She always used emojis, and usually way more than two per text.

yeah np, are u good? ♡

sent at 4:17 pm

Bae Tuck

Yes :)

sent at 4:18 pm

Bae Tuck

Also get the passionfruit one 🥥🍠 👀

sent at 4:18

that’s,,, el that’s a sweet potato,,

sent at 4:19 pm

Bae Tuck

Close enough 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

sent at 4:19pm

...Okay? That was definitely weird. You shook it off and headed for the counter to pay. You stopped half way there, and turned back to swap the mango for passionfruit.

Not long after you had finished your homework and tidied up your room a little, the doorbell rang. You exited the kitchen, drinks in hand, and opened the door. Your heart caught in your throat. Paxton Hall-Yoshida was standing outside. And you were pretty sure he looked nervous. You both just stood there for a second. No one breathed, no one spoke.

“Uh, hi, do you want to…” you backed up, motioning for him to come inside.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, entering the doorway. Paxton motherfucking Hall-Yoshida was in your living room. You held out a hand to him.

“Coconut water?” he took the box, looked at the label, and smiled.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said again, this time a faint, yet unmistakable note of joy in his voice. He took a sip. He smiled.

“Passionfruit’s my favorite.” You silently thanked Eleanor, who you knew must have planned all this. Most of the evening was a blur, and you thanked god your family wasn’t home right now. You went upstairs, texted Eleanor asking what the actual fuck, made some surprisingly comfortable small talk, then filled him in on how to run lines.

“Do you think playing the soundtrack would help you… get into character?” he asked.

“I would probably just end up singing the whole thing,” You laughed and tried to ignore the butterflies in your chest. The main scene you struggled with was before “Seventeen”. It was harder to get into Winnie’s head because you had no romantic feelings for Jonah, and you always just made each other laugh. You had started with a few easier scenes of Winnie and Jesse, like the fair, and the dialogue before “Top of the World”.

“That was really good,” he said, and you felt the sincerity of his words.

“Thanks…” you smiled and took a sip of coconut water, hoping you weren’t blushing too hard.

“So what next?” he asked.

“Probably the scene before ‘Seventeen’,” you said, giving him the page and scene number, “it’s one of the hardest ones for me. I guess I just can’t connect to Jonah the way Winnie does.”

“Huh,” he said, skimming the page. When you looked up at him, he had something between a smile and a smirk playing at his lips. You made yourself look away before you got too distracted. You refused to think about the fact that you were sitting across from Paxton Hall-Yoshida on your bed, in your room, like you were… close with each other. His eyes skimmed the script, finding the dialogue. He glanced up at you and nodded, indicating he found his place. You began.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t get away,” you said, jumping into character.

“I may be 102, but I can still outrun anyone,” a smile played at his lips. You smiled, then let your face fall.

“I’m so sorry, I-I tried to warn you-”

“No, no,” he interjected almost seamlessly, “It’s okay, it’s… refreshing having someone look after me who isn’t my mom.” His eyes flickered between your face and the page. You smiled with him for a second, then let distress cloud your face.

“Jesse… that man came by my house today. He heard the music box, he knows about you-”

“I know he knows…”

You continued on with the scene and he trailed off when he came to the sheet music for the song Seventeen. You took in a breath to start the dialogue in the middle of the song, but before you could…

“Six years from now you will turn seventeen,

Turn seventeen,

The same age as me,

Six years from now,

Go to the spring,

Go to the spring and drink…”

He was singing to you. He was looking at you and singing to you. His eyes only flickered down to the page to confirm the lyrics. He was nervous, you could tell. But through his hesitance, the emotion in his voice was sincere. Your heart was beating faster. You didn’t even notice your pulse was ringing in your ears, you were too focused on Paxton.

“I'll wait for you till you turn seventeen,

Turn seventeen,

The same age as me,

Six years from now,

Go to the spring,

Go to the spring and drink…” Your hand rose to cover your mouth. He hesitated, and you remembered your dialogue.

“Uh, wh-what if I… forget where the spring is?” He reached out and took your free hand in his. Your pulse was off the charts. “I’ll go get you some water. Just… remember to keep it somewhere safe. Somewhere no one will find it.” You got the feeling he wasn’t just talking about the water. You knew he had never really been in a serious relationship before, and it clicked suddenly - if he learned an entire song to duet with you, just how much he must like you. You exhaled a breathy laugh, unsure how to process the sudden euphoria you felt.

“You make the world sound so… exciting. I just want to drink the water right now!”

“Uh, no. You have to wait.” you both smiled, anticipating the upcoming joke.

“Why?” you ask, “What’s the difference?” You held your breath as he tried not to laugh through the delivery of the punchline.

“Believe me,” he rubbed his thumb over your hand, “there’s a difference.” You both chuckled, and he continued singing. You were so focused on him, so… touched that he would do all this for you.

“Winnie, wait with me,

And we could be married,

Winnie, wait with me,

And we'll share the world,

Winnie, you can stop time,

And live like this,

Forever…”

“I could live like this forever,” you echoed.

“Live like this...” you sang in tandem.

“What do you say, Winnie? Do you want to…” he broke character suddenly, and asked, his eyes boring into yours, “Do you want to go out some time?”

He could see the adorable smile blooming on your face, even from behind your hand. You nodded.

“Yes, I-I would love that,” and you began to sing the last line in the song, “Forever-”

But before you finished holding out the note, his lips were on yours. His mouth moved slowly, intentionally, against yours. You followed his lead, flustered. He leaned further forward, his palm caressing your cheek. It was everything you imagined it would be, and you had quite the imagination. Your head was angled up and your hands rested themselves on his back, one tracing little shapes. Your shoulders were pressed against each other and neither of you could think. He was so warm. He tasted like coconut and passion fruit, and a distant part of your mind silently thanked Eleanor again.

You really could live like this forever.

#paxton hall yoshida x reader #paxton hall yoshida #never have i ever #nhie #nhie x reader #never have i ever x reader

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valkyriesryde · 4 years

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Release the Hounds {9/?}

Chapter 9: Wait for Summertime

Pairing: Persephone!Steve Rogers x Hades!Reader

Chapter Summary: The god of Spring has disappeared and no one has seen Hades for a week since. That doesn’t mean she is gone or has admitted defeat.

Word count: 2,800ish

A/N: *warning nods of parental abuse* I wrote this while listening to Hadestown so I fell ya’ll should know this chapter is heavily influenced by that soundtrack hahah, anyway, hope you enjoy!

When Hades separated the Underworld from Olympus she separated herself from the obligations of working for the Olympians and following their rules and regulations. She had free rein over what she and those residing in the Underworld could do, she had freedom to rule the way she wanted to.

When the prospect of her joining the council of the Olympians came up one of the things that was vitally important to Hades was that the Underworld remained free of Olympian control; yes they would work together on issues that affected both populations, but no, the Olympians would not hold any authority in the Underworld just as she held none in Olympus.

Technically speaking, to make it easier to understand, the Underworld and Olympus were to separate countries that, in the event that Hades did join the council, had a council that overlooked both countries and how they worked together and shared resources and experience. Sort of like the European Union.

That’s at least what Hades hoped for and the terms she discussed with Thor, in an incredibly detailed report that he had to read twice to understand completely.

But things were different now, things didn’t go as planned.

Immediately following the speeches of both Demeter and Hades eleven Olympians of the council were to meet and the decision of whether or not Hades would join would be decided. Neither parties were to be present and neither were able to vote, “to make things fair” Thor said.

However, as the gods [ThorZeus, JaneHera, LokiPoseidon, NatashaAthena, Peter QAres, TonyHephaestus, BuckyApollo, RebeccaArtemis, PepperAphrodite, T’ChallaDionysus and PeterHermes] began to make their way to meet, word reached them that the god of spring had disappeared. He had gone missing straight after the presentation along with Hades and her judges.

With a cry for justice Demeter demanded the gates of the Underworld be taken down until her son was found. Thor refused. He said there was no evidence that Steve was even missing through force and not his own accord. But the other gods weren’t overly convinced that Steve wasn’t already under some sort of influence from Hades. And with the cries of Demeter the council decided that until Steve was returned safe and his side of the story was shared that the vote will be suspended.

As Loki told Hades this she rolled her eyes and cursed under her breath. She rubbed her hands over her face and turned off her computer, standing from her desk she walked around to stand in front of Loki and shrugged her shoulders.

“There’s nothing I can do. I don’t know where he is Loki, I swear it,” she told him and he told her he believed her. They hugged, Loki bid farewell and returned to Olympus and she closed the door behind him and locked it.

That was a week ago and no one has seen Hades since. They’ve heard from her, her own council, the judges and HarleyThanatos, MJ and Peter. But none had seen her.

When Peter came by to deliver her weekly fruits the door was unlocked but there was no sign of her. He looked in every room, he listened for any footsteps, but he couldn’t find her. She watched him, walked behind him as he called for her and as he wrote her a note saying he’d popped in and was worried about her she almost revealed herself.

However, as Peter went to walk out the door he turned back to the empty entryway and for a second thought maybe he knew she was here.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can…Bucky says he’s safe.”

It didn’t take long for Hades to find him. Bucky wasn’t a subtle person when he didn’t need to be and the more obvious he was about his movements the less obvious it was that he was hiding something.

She wore her helmet, glowing gold and blue but you wouldn’t know it as it sat on her head and made her and everything she wore invisible. Her favourite accessory. Hades followed Bucky from his office well after the sun had set. She followed him into her home and to a doorway that didn’t fit into the rest of the layout of the house. The she was in New York.

Her helmet now a cap, her attire now a casual jeans and t-shirt as she continued to follow Bucky out of the alleyway and down the busy streets. He weaved through the crowd with a sense of familiarity, she figured this wasn’t the first time he’d done this.

Bucky’s footsteps slowed as he neared the apartment building, he stepped inside and into the elevator and she followed him in, standing further enough away that he didn’t accidentally walk into her or touch her as he pushed the button for the ninth floor.

She was his shadow as he walked down the hallway, he’d missed her every time he had looked over his shoulder, he was none the wiser when he unlocked the door and when he called “Honey I’m home” he had no idea he had let her into the apartment after him.

“Did you bring what I asked?” Steve asked from his seat at the table, a new sketchbook Bucky had brought him open in front of him.

“Food to last you a lifetime and I even got you a special gift from me to you,” Bucky beamed and started to unpack the backpack he had brought with him.

Hades stood by the wall and watched the two. This is where Steve was, he wasn’t taken, he wasn’t kidnapped, this wasn’t against his will. He was hiding, he was here because he chose to be. Who did he fear so much that he had to hide? Why hadn’t he told anyone, why hadn’t he told Thor?!

“I don’t trust your gifts, yesterday you brought a gold fish.”

“That’s what you asked for!”

“I asked for a some paints because I wanted to paint a koi fish!”

“Pfft, what’s the difference.” Bucky bit back and leaned against the counter and smirked at Steve who stood from his seat and began walking towards him until he held his hand up for him to stop.

“Wait there, do you want your present or what?”

“Not particularly,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Oh you’ll want this one.”

“What is it Bucky?” He narrowed his eyes and Bucky ran his tongue over his teeth and turned his head to where Hades stood, her heart started beating faster and she started to back away towards the hallway.

“You’re not as stealthy as you think.”

Steve looked at the empty space Bucky was looking at confused, he didn’t know what he was talking about or who to. Until Hades appeared in front of him and in her hand a cap that he knew was her cap of invisibility.

“How did you know?” She asked Bucky, diverting her eyes away from Steve.

Bucky shrugged his shoulders and patted Steve’s shoulder who still stood there dumbstruck staring at Hades.

“Had a hunch,” he whispered as he walked past her, “you two have a good rest of your night,” he called and soon enough it was just Steve and Hades left in the open living area.

“I’m sorry”

“Can I get you-why are you sorry?” he walked around the counter and stopped to turn towards her. She looked at the ground and fidgeted with the cap.

“I shouldn’t have intruded on you, I’m sorry for invading your privacy,” she said, “I’ll leave you be, you obviously don’t want to be found yet, Bucky shouldn’t have led me here but I also shouldn’t have followed him.” She turned to leave just as Bucky had a minute before but Steve quickly caught her wrist.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, I can’t even begin to imagine what impact my disappearance has had. I’m sorry if its caused any repercussions for you. Bucky told me they’ve suspended the vote.” He looked guilty, like a puppy caught doing something he shouldn’t and Hades wanted so badly to reassure him and tell him it wasn’t his fault. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“I can go-“

“I want you to stay,” Steve had walked back over to the kettle and turned it on, pulling down two mugs, “tea or coffee?”

“Tea please,” she stepped further into the room but still stood awkwardly in the middle of it like she didn’t quite know what to do.

“Truth be told, it’s good to see someone that isn’t Bucky. I love him, and I’m grateful for what he’s done for me but interactions with others is something I oddly miss.” Steve chuckled and placed her mug on the coffee table. He gestured for her to sit with him and she did.

It’s my fault you’re stuck here. She thought. This is my fight and you were dragged into it. I’m sorry. She wanted to tell him. I’m sorry you shouldn’t have to go through this, you shouldn’t have to hide. This is my fault, this is my fight, you’re a victim. She couldn’t get it out.

“Tell me, how’s the Underworld?” Steve acted as though this was normal, as though they sat and talked before.

“Truth be told,” she laughed nervously, “I’m not sure. I haven’t been very present for the past week or so.” She brought the mug to her lips. Steve shifted in his seat.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I didn’t know you drew,” she quickly changed the subject, Steve looked up at her curiously, he saw her looking at the discarded papers over the table, the scenes from outside that he had drawn early in the mornings and late into the nights.

“I dabble, they’re no good though.” He reached to tidy the pile but she stopped him and picked up the discarded papers.

“I’d like to see what you consider good then,” she smiled at him, “this are beautiful.”

They talked for hours about his drawings, about the things he had seen from his window, about what he thought of New York and how it differed from Olympus, “some bits are similar, it’s all so busy all the time,” he laughed.

They ignored the elephant in the room as long as they could and Hades tried to ignore how heavy the empty mug was in her hands when she placed it back on the coffee table.

“Steve,” she took a deep breath and blamed it on her nerves.

“I can’t go back Hades.” He stood from the couch and took their mugs to the sink. She followed him and Steve kept his back to her as he gripped the sink.

“You need to tell Thor, your mother needs to know you’re safe.” She reached out a hand to his shoulder but he spun around, anger and fear across his face.

“So she can find me?!”

“She doesn’t have to know you’re here.” Hades’ voice was calm as she took a step towards Steve, “but I know how terrified she must be, if Harley-if any of the ones I care about disappeared without a word for even a day I would be terrified for them.”

Steve’s face dropped, words he’d heard before ran through his head. “I would tear down mountains for you…if anything happened to you no one would be safe…” Words his mother had told him once when he yelled at her when he was younger. But Hades would be terrified if her son went missing, if anyone she cared about went missing.

“Why haven’t you been present in the Underworld lately?” He asked, surely she didn’t think of him like he hoped.

“Someone I cared about went missing…” she pushed her fingers through her hair and averted her eyes, “and I was being blamed, I was being punished and I was terrified because I knew it was my fault they were in danger.” Her voice started to rise but she still refused to look at him. “I dragged them into this, I let my idiot brothers give them false hope and I didn’t stop them from putting themselves in immediate danger. You shouldn’t have to be here.”

“I have to be. I don’t want to be here but I have to be.” Steve reached out for her hands and held them to his chest, “I did this to myself.”

“You didn’t-“

“I did. This is no one’s fault but my own. You’re not the villain in this Hades. It’s not because of you I’m hiding here, it’s because of her. It’s because of my own mother I’m hiding for my life, I don’t want to be here but I have to hide from her,” his voice got quiet and his eyes dropped to the floor, “she’ll kill me, she’ll tear down mountains and no one is safe. If she’s focused on finding me that tyranny from hurting anyone else.”

Hades hand reached up and wiped the tears that began to fall down Steve’s face. She held his cheek and he flinched slightly before relaxing into her touch. Hades realised then the truth behind it all. She thought Demeter was just selfish, that she was just narcissistic but there was more. She’s hurt him before.

“Are you okay?” he asked, her breathing became heavy and he could practically feel her heartbeat in her wrist.

“I’m fine,” she lied through her teeth and tried to catch her breath. She blamed it on her anger, she blamed it on the pieces she’d put together. She was fine.

Hades stepped back from Steve, she needed to calm her beating heart. But as she walked towards the couch her knees gave out from underneath her and Steve was only just quick enough to catch her.

“You’re not, you’re weak like Bucky was when he was in the Underworld. You can’t be here for long can you?”

“Perhaps I’ve overstayed my welcome,” she smiled shyly and leaned against the back of the couch. Steve rushed into the hallway and appeared again holding a familiar black flower. “You can’t use that, it won’t work I’m here with you already.”

“We need to get you back to the Underworld though!” He thought for a second before he remembered Bucky’s escape route if anything went wrong quickly. “I know how to get you back to Bucky’s and from there he can take you home.”

The building was quietly when they stepped into the elevator. Hades was weakening quickly now, she leaned against Steve and he was practically holding her up when they reached the basement.

At the end of the basement, behind piles of stuff and things Steve revealed a door, a sun and moon engraved on the handle.

“This will take you to him, I’m sorry I can’t take you back to the Underworld.” Steve was rushed, he reached for the handle and was too focused on the woman in his arms he didn’t notice the symbol change to a three headed dog until the door was swung open and he saw a cave that looked out to the river Styx. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s me,” she said quickly, “it’s okay,” her breathing was uneven as she stayed on the side of the door with Steve. “Steve…”

“You’re home, it’s okay. Go.”

“No, wait…if she finds you…” she could barely get the words out, “use the dahlia…she has no eyes in the Underworld…I promise Steve…” she gripped his shirt and he tried to push her over the line. Her eyes drooped and her strength was no more. “I’ll protect you there.”

“And I’ll protect you now.” He said and pushed her over the threshold, the door slammed and disappeared behind her before Steve could close it himself. He stared at the door and hoped she was okay. The symbol changed back to its original form and he dropped to the floor with a sigh as he started to cry. He was terrified. This is my fault, I’m so sorry.

Hades fell to her hands and knees, she felt the dirt under her fingers and took a deep breath as she felt the air fill her lungs. She stood from the ground and tucked her cap into the back pocket of her jeans. Hades walked out of the cave with her head held high, she walked down the bank of the Styx with her head held high and Cerberus ran towards her as she neared the gates.

Pietro and Harley were standing there has they guided souls through the right doors and when they turned and saw the queen walking towards them they were confused.

She was straight faced and didn’t stick around to answer any questions. Hades, with Cerberus on her tail walked between the two and through the gates but not before placing a quick kiss on Harley’s forehead and brushing a reassuring hand over Pietro’s shoulder. She walked through the gates and turned around as they watched her go.

“I apologise for my absence boys. Family dinner, tonight.”

Chapter Ten: Face Value

Permanent Taglist [28/50]: @witch-of-letters @buckysmischief @marvelsangels@momobaby227@weirdlyokaywithit @disgustangg @bucky-blogs @sebbbystaaan @geeksareunique@stuckonjbbarnes @ellieisgae @mushyjellybeans @lovesmesomehiddles @this-kitten-is-smitten @itsunclebucky@kitkatd7 @lokisironthrone@supraveng @thinkoutsidethebex @binkysteebnpewter @starbxcks @agent-barnes40@theannoyingnightmarecollector @starkerhowlter @fckdeusername @murdermornings @thefridgeismybestie@wonderlandfandomkingdom @aikeia

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#release the hounds #steve rogers x reader #persephone!steve rogers x hades!reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers au #marvel au

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therainbowwillow · 4 years

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HEY! If anyone comes up with a name for this AU... please tell me ;-;

Previous part: https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/640699617012596736/therainbowwillow

Part 10! I have school again, but I’m seriously tired of pushing my homework boulder up the hill, only to watch it crash down again when I get new assignments the next week, so I’ll take some solace in staying up far too late to write this.

Last time on this AU: Hades watches his kingdom slip out of his fingertips. He desperately attempts to find some way to keep his grip on what should be his. Persephone determines that it may come down to her to protect Orpheus (and the rest of the world) from Hades, no matter what that means for her. Hermes and Eurydice devise a plan to protect their favorite poet. Patroclus wishes he’d gotten a chance taken his chance to kick Apollo for guiding Hector to kill him. (‘My foot was this close to his face, Achilles!’) Dionysus listens to his mother. Hyacinthus and Orpheus sleep through the train ride home.

——————————————

“Hermes?” Eurydice whispers.

“Hm?” He looks up from his rest.

“What did they do to him?” She asks quietly.

“You really want to know that?”

She considers for a moment. “Yes. He’ll need me.”

“He stopped breathing when you crossed the Styx, didn’t he?” Hermes asks, avoiding her request.

Eurydice turns away from his gaze. “It wasn’t really him. I walked all that way. And it was just a diversion.”

“Not a diversion,” he tells her. “Protection. An extra shot at making it out of here. The god of death’s blessing. Thanatos couldn’t bear to give him to Hades. Orpheus was never really a shade. Only in part. When he reaches the surface, it won’t be so hard on him.”

“I was a shade. What will happen to me?”

“It’ll be harder to get used to the surface,” he says. “You’ve noticed it already, I bet. It’s strange, isn’t it, to need to sleep so much?”

She shrugs. “A little. There’s gotta be more to it than a little fatigue.”

“Not physically. It’s a different kind of protection. Because he wasn’t a shade, Orpheus couldn’t have signed Hades’s contracts. He’s under his own jurisdiction. Hades won’t be able to argue that he belongs to the underworld.”

“Will that stop Hades?” She wonders aloud.

“No, but it will weaken his argument. And I assure you, there will be an argument. It’s you I’m worried about, Eurydice,” he says.

“Orpheus, by extension, then. If I know a thing about that poet of mine, he’d do it all again if Hades takes me.”

“Yes, he would,” Hermes sighs. “Which is why we need to prevent the possibility.”

“How would we go about that? Us against... Hades? Maybe Zeus?”

“I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it.”

She exhales. “What is it?”

“Orpheus.”

“No,” she says, sharply. “He’s been through enough.”

“I agree. But his song could sway opinions.”

“Not enough,” she responds.

“No, just enough. He already won,” Hermes says.

“What are you saying? We barely escaped!”

“Hades let us go. When I found him...” Hermes glances at Orpheus, sound asleep. “His cell was unlocked. He wasn’t chained up. Hades wanted us to escape. We met no confrontation leaving the city.”

“You really think...”

He nods. “I’m sure of it. If Orpheus can convince Hades to let him go once, he’ll do it again.”

“And how would we ask him to do that? After all of this, he’ll be back to work on his song all over again?”

“We tell him the truth.”

“Tell me the truth, Hermes. What the hell did they do to him?” she asks again. “If this really is our only choice, I at least want to know how to support him.”

“The cell was pitch-dark,” he tells her. “The ground... Eurydice, are you-”

“Please. I want to know what he went though.”

He sighs and continues. “The ground was covered in pictures. Drawn in his own blood or carved into the stone. Your name beside his. The notes to his song, scratched out like he wanted to forget it.”

Eurydice watches her lover, his chest slowly rising and falling. He looks peaceful. How had it been just this morning that he’d been suffering like that?

“I don’t think he slept much. He could hear the other prisoners through the walls, I’m sure.” Eurydice lays the palm of her hand against his forehead. He smiles slightly in his sleep. “I doubt they gave him food or drink. He weighed almost nothing when I carried him out of there. They’d torn off his bandages and left him to bleed. He’d given up. I found him leaned up against a wall, hardly strong enough to lift his head. He thought it was over.”

“I’m sorry, love,” she whispers. She feels his warm breath against her cheeks. “We’re never letting that happen again.”

“No matter what it takes,” Hermes promises, “Hades will never lay a finger on him again. I swear.”

———————————————

Hades lays awake, prevented from rest by the shouts of his workers. The barricade holds, but he can smell fire from outside his doors. How long before he’s forced to flee? Where would he run? Demeter would never let him touch the surface world. Hermes had taken the train. That leaves him with one option. He almost wishes he hadn’t thought of the possibility. Olympus.

Zeus would find it hilarious. The king of the underworld, forced into exile by his own workers. He’d be the laughing stock of the family. Still, it was better than whatever Hadestown had in store for him and it was preferable to Demeter’s wrath. With a little luck, Zeus might even help him keep him kingdom. If fortune wasn’t on his side, bribes would suffice.

A sudden shatter of glass pulls Hades from his planning. The barricade goes up in flames. His door rattles. Hades rushes to the window. It’s only a few floors down to the ground. He kicks out the glass and jumps. His divine legs catch him better than a mortal’s could. He lands with a roll.

“Keep running, don’t look back,” three voices sing, audible over the chaos.

And so he runs.

—————————————

Realatively short part! Sorry, not a lot to say while Orpheus naps.

#hadestown au #hadestown fanfic #hadestown #therainbowwrites

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quiet-onset · 4 years

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Infinity (1)

Pairing: Orpheus!Peter Parker x Eurydice!reader (I imagine him in his early 20s)

Word Count: 2.7k+

A/N: This is yet another series I started because self control = 0, especially in quarantine lmao. I finally listened Hadestown, which I highly recommend if you’re into musical theater. This series is based on this musical by Anaïs Mitchell, which is based on Greek tale of Orpheus and Eurydice. There will be some of the same lines, but mainly iconic ones that I don’t think should be replaced. I’ll be sure to put a credit at the start of any chapter that I use the exact same lines. Consider this this chapter’s credit to Anaïs Mitchell!

The wind blew hard. This way and that as you tugged you coat tighter, stepping off the Greyhound that you’d been on for hours. You rolled your shoulders and stepped forward as you sought out the closest place to get a hot meal. You had no idea where you were anymore. You only knew that you needed to go.

Go where? You weren’t sure yet.

You’d been on your own for a long while now, and you liked it that way. No one to boss you around. No one depending on you, and not depending on anyone. It was a hard life, but that’s exactly what it was — life. Maybe it wasn’t how things should have been, but that’s how they were.

The sooner everyone learned that, the better they’re lives would be.

As you stepped away from the bus stop, you looked around at the town, finally catching a sign with its name: Hadestown. Well, that’s a bit dramatic, you thought. Sure, the place was kind of old and broken down, but that didn’t make it hell. Maybe there was something you were missing. If there was, you didn’t care to stick around and find out. Before you could walk too far, you bought a new bus ticket, tomorrow at noon sharp.

You could last till then. For now, you just needed food and a bed.

You tapped a young man on the shoulder, and he looked up from his phone. “Hey, do you know if there’s a restaurant around here?” You asked.

He gave you a onceover, taking note of your torn jeans and worn gray t-shirt that was fraying at the seams. He nodded his head to the left, toward the tracks. “You might wanna head to the diner, across town by the railroad tracks. ‘S cheaper.”

You scoffed and adjusted your backpack as you pushed past him. “Gee thanks.”

It took about twenty minutes for you to get to the diner the boy told you about. You let out a breath of relief as you stepped inside. It seemed lively enough, small pockets of laughter here and there. You breathed into your hands to warm them, ferociously rubbing them together. Then, a man walked up to you, not much taller than you with a flannel covering his ACDC t-shirt. “I’m Tony. Can I get you a table?” A deep voice, but warm. Kind.

And, by your book, not to be trusted.

“A booth, if you have one.” You nodded.

“Follow me.”

He walked past the few tables with people. At one table sat two men, drinking and laughing as they teased each other about this or that. Another with a group, two men and two women, toasting to some recently completed job that was, by the looks of them, probably illegal. Then, just as you rounded to the other side of the bar, three women sat together. One with light brown skin, the slightest bit of a curl in her hair that was braided down her back. Another with a short, dark bob that just reached her shoulders, the color matching the intensity of her eyes. The last, a younger woman, a coat of reddish-maroon leather just barely touching the floor. The trio gazed at you as you walked by, and it filled you with a strange feeling, but they said nothing.

Weird.

“It’s pretty cold out there to be April.” He said, attempting to make small talk as you sat down.

“And soon, it’ll be blazing hot.” You replied. “Same old, same old.”

“‘S not natural.”

You picked up the menu, “It is now.”

He paused, then gave you a chuckle and turned to go back to the bar. “I’ll give you a minute.”

As soon as Tony got back to the bar, Peter was on his tail. Peter had long since given up pretending to work, his pen and pad sitting on the countertop. He wasn’t working before you came in, and sure as hell wasn’t working after. As soon as he saw you, something in his heart twitched. It skipped a beat, and his breath caught in his throat. He always believed in love at first sight, but he never thought it’d happen to him. Yet, there you were, your nose in a menu, slightly crinkled as you began to think of how you were going to find somewhere to sleep. He didn’t know how he knew, but you were the one. “Who is that girl?” Peter asked eagerly.

“A customer.”

“What’s her name?”

“She wasn’t talkative.”

“Is she alone?”

“Seems that way.” Tony said, finally turning to face him. “You should be working.”

Peter looked at him indignantly, “I was working.”

“I mean working the bar, not working on a song.”

“It’s not a song, it’s the song. It’s important—”

“I know that, Peter. But you’ve still got a job to do.”

Peter knew Tony was right, but this job always felt like a means to an end. He worked there, with Tony, because he needed money. A roof over his head. Songwriting was his passion anyhow. Sometimes, when Tony was feeling generous, he’d let Peter play in the diner, and the people always seemed to love his music. Still, praise wasn’t enough to make a living.

Tony sighed at the dejected look that Peter did a poor job of hiding. He took a glass and filled it with cold water. “You wanna talk to her?”

Peter perked up. “Yes.”

“Go take her order.” Tony gave the water, tightening his grip when Peter was about to walk away. “Don’t freak her out, alright?”

“No problem.”

Peter tried to be as natural as possible as he walked around the bar to you, apron tied snugly around his waist. When he arrived at your table, he noticed you gazing at the pot filled with dirt on the windowsill next to her. You thought it was cute that they thought they could grow something in this weather. The weather hadn’t been kind to anyone, plants most of all. At least, not while it was freezing cold outside. Maybe when the sun comes back out, you thought, but it’ll dry out by then. The plant, the town, you. You’d all dry out when the sun came back.

It wasn’t natural, but it was now.

Peter placed the glass of water down in front of you, and gave you a small smile. “Come home with me.”

You looked up, eyes wide with surprise. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“The man who’s gonna marry you.” He answered. You weren’t sure if your eyes could get wider, but they tried. You looked over at Tony behind the bar, who glanced back and gave a helpless shrug. Sliding into the booth across from you, the man put his hand out for a handshake. “I’m Peter.”

You gave him a onceover. You couldn’t deny he was attractive. A brunette with honey brown eyes that matched the leaves of tall trees that used to change colors — reds, browns, and yellows — while it was still a bit hot and just before it got cold. Just before, just before.

Except it wasn’t before. This was it now. Cold or hot, in or out. No in between.

You took his hand, “I’m Y/N.”

Why did you do that? Why did you tell him your name? The whole point of you travelling the way you did was so you didn’t form attachments. One town then the next. No friends, not even acquaintances. Since you couldn’t escape the wind, you went wherever it took you. Your name was one of the only things you still owned at this point. So what possessed you to tell this man — Peter — something so precious as your name?

You all but snatched back your hand as you caught your guard just as it was slipping. Still, Peter smiled. “Sounds like a melody.”

“So, you’re a singer?” You asked him.

“And I play the guitar.”

You hummed, looking back down at your menu. “Sorry, not interested. I’ve met too many men like you. Charm women into bed and forget their names the next day.”

“I’m, uh,” Peter paused, his brow furrowed ever so slightly. “I’m not like that.”

You chuckled. “I’m sure you’re not.”

He watched your face as you read through the menu for what seemed like the third time. Your plump bottom lip was tucked between your teeth, and your knee was bouncing up and down under the table. You were clearly uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem to be about him. No, you looked like you could hold your own against any unwanted advances.

This was about money, Peter realized. You didn’t know how you were going to pay for the food, let alone find somewhere to sleep. He knew from experience that lack of money was a touchy subject, so he carefully placed two fingers atop the menu and pushed it down and away from your face. “It’s on the house.” He said quietly.

“What makes you think—-”

“I don’t think anything.” He told you. “I’ve been there before. Am there, actually. Tony can spare a meal.”

Your knee stopped bouncing, and an uncomfortably warm feeling rose at the pit of your stomach. “And if he can’t?”

“He can take it from my tips. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll get it for you.”

You placed the menu down gently and looked up at him. His eyes were kind, somehow filled with admiration for you, a woman he’d barely just met. You never believed in love at first sight. It was impossible for two people to look at each other and just know that this was it. That the other now owned your heart and would hold it dear. That it would be you and them against the world for the rest of your lives.

At least, you thought it was impossible. You still weren’t sold on the idea, but… considering.

“So,” Peter smiled. “What do you want?”

When you quietly listed the cheapest thing on the menu, Peter nodded and told you he’d be back. As you waited for him to return, you looked back at the pot, still filled with dirt but no plant. You placed a hand on the clay, cold to the touch. There was no telling how long it’d been sitting there, but you felt bad for it. It was doomed from the start.

Just as you removed your hand, the woman with the maroon leather jacket slightly bumped into you as she walked by. “Sorry.” Her sweet smile was a sharp contrast to the intense stare she fixed on you. Almost like she knew something you didn’t. “Just headed to the bathroom.”

Suddenly, your head was a bit cloudy. You closed your eyes, just for a moment. But in that moment, you saw a flash of something. Something that seemed more of a dream than a reality. The flash of faded yellow lights, swinging back and forth in a wide and dark hallway that was bathed in mist and fog. Just as soon it appeared, it was gone, and when you opened your eyes, Peter stood in front of you with a plate of food and a glass of juice. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, picking up your glass of water. “Just a little dehydrated, I guess.”

“Probably starving, too.” He added. He, again, slid in across from you and gave you the food he’d prepared with just a bit more than the average plate. Not that you’d ever know. He waited until you began to eat, which calmed his nerves, to tell you what was on his mind. “I’m writing a song.”

You rolled your eyes with the faintest smile pulling at your lips, “Isn’t that what singers do?”

“Well yeah, but it’s about what the song will do.” Peter told you. “It’s gonna make spring come back.”

“A song?” You deadpanned. “A song is going to make spring come back. Have you fallen and hit your head recently? I think you need to see a doctor.”

“You don’t understand. Things, life — it all works a little different in Hadestown.”

“Okay.” You started, reasoning with him. “If the song is supposed to bring spring back, why don’t you sing it?”

“It’s not finished.” Peter shook his head, suddenly not wanting to talk about the song. “You know, I am gonna marry you.”

“Really?” You held back a laugh. Not necessarily at the prospect of marrying him, but at his confidence in your answer to his proposal. “And why should I be your wife?”

“Well, I’m the only one to make you smile since you walked in this place. I’ve got a feeling that you’re the kind who survives.”

“Nothing wrong with survival. It got me this far, and it hasn’t failed me yet.”

“I think it has.”

“How so?”

“It hasn’t taught you how to live. I can do that for you.”

You paused, considering his statement. Some of the people you’d met along your way thought that you were the coolest person they’d ever met. A life on the road. In a car, on a bus, riding a motorcycle down the freeway. No one to answer to or worry about. But the longer you stayed on the road, the more you realized they were wrong. It was an incredibly lonely life in an even lonelier world, working for scraps and paying for what you needed with the little money you managed to gather.

Maybe it wasn’t how things should have been, but that’s how they were. That’s what you always told yourself. But maybe, Peter could show you another way, a happier way.

“Sing the song.” You told him. You watched the way he tensed up, and softly grabbed his hand that rested on the table. His hand was soft, but his fingertips were rough, seasoned by the thick strings of his guitar that his mother had given him before she died. It was a scary comparison for you and him. The one cared and the one who didn’t. The one who survived and the one who lived. “You wanna take me home?”

“Yes.” He answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You urged him softly, “Sing it.”

Peter took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It wasn’t much of a song yet. Just a handful of notes and a string of la la las. Still, he sang softly, his hand still holding onto yours. Just then, the woman with the leather jacket passed by again on her way back from the bathroom, and she brushed Peter’s shoulder. It wasn’t noticeable by any means, but it made his brow crease, made his hand squeeze yours just a bit tighter. You didn’t realize it — you thought he was hyper-focused on the song. But behind his eyes, Peter saw a flash. A dream, maybe. Train tracks, his shoes covered with thick mud, and a stone wall under a pitch black sky, an overwhelming urge to cross over settling in the pit of his stomach.

Then he opened his eyes and the image was replaced by you, your head turned to look at the pot once more. Except now, a daisy had emerged from the dirt, strong white petals in the middle of a dark, cold diner. You looked back at him, eyes wide in wonder.

“How’d you do that?”

“I told you things work differently in Hadestown.” He repeated, smiling at the almost childlike wonder on your face. He added quickly after the fact, “It’s not finished though.”

“Still, if just a phrase can do that? You have to finish it.”

You weren’t sure what brought you to Hadestown or to this diner. What brought you to this booth and to Peter. What made the outside freezing cold or blazing hot. You just knew that, at that moment, the world only knew extremes. Cold or hot, in or out, alive or dead.

And you were done being dead.

You thought that’d be the end of your tale. The girl finds the boy who can make her happy. They get married and live happily ever after. That’s the dream, right? Well, your happily ever after turned to dust as Tony marched past the trio of women near the bar and over to your booth, leaning over to speak to Peter in a quiet voice.

“Where did you hear that melody?”

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #orpheus!peter parker x eurydice!reader #modern greek myth au

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rollingthunder06 · 4 years

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our babe

pre-hadestown , six weeks pregnant persephone wants cookies and her husband is happy to help. tw for mentions of miscarriages. they can have a happy couple moments before their hearts break

_____________

”I swear to the gods Hades if you-“

”I’m not screwing up your cookies, Seph.” Persephone rolled her eyes. “No need to bite my damn head off.” She bit her tongue so she wouldn’t snap more. Wasn’t his fault her hormones were making her moody. It was the baby growing’s fault, and apparently their babe wanted cookies and they wanted them now.

”Sorry.” She mumbled, resting her head on the kitchen table. She was only six weeks pregnant and their babe was already fucking hammering her insides even if it was barely bigger than a small fruit, worse then she’d experienced in the other ones. But that doesn’t matter. She was six weeks pregnant and that’s what mattered. Sometimes she didn’t get past three.

”It’s okay, lover.” She could feel his hand rubbing her back, his lips in her hair aiming for her head probably. He helped. Sure she still hurt, but having Hades’ attention helped. Knowing he was willing to put down his papers for her and their babe helped more than anything in the world could.

”No it’s not. I’m bein’ mean.” She mumbled, hearing her husband’s knee crack as he kneeled beside her. “Hey, look at me.” Hades cupped her cheek, bringing her head up. “You’re not being mean, lover. I understand, ya don’t have to apologize to me. Lover, please look at me.”

Why was she crying? It was stupid. She should be able to hold herself together like she usually did. What was this so different?

”I’m scared, Hades.” Persephone mumbled quietly, being pulled gently into her husband’s strong arms. “Shhh, I know, lover. Trust me I know. I’m scared too.” Hades rumbled, kissing her head. Being pregnant was terrifying. After how many they’d lost just in the last few years, it broke her down just thinking about the chance she was going to lose this one too.

Stop thinking about it, just be grateful you haven’t

Persephone moved off him, wiping her eyes. “The ovens probably heated.” Her voice was cracking but she tried to ignore it. Hades looked at her confused but stood anyways, pressing another kiss to her head. A safe spot. Affection, but not enough to prompt more. Sometimes she wished he wanted more but it didn’t seem like he did much anymore.

”Of course.” He grumbled, leaving her side and heading back to the counter. As much as she didn’t want him too, part of her needed him too. As much as she wanted to cry and be scared in his arms it would break her more that way and she knew it.

”We should talk about-“

Why was this so hard him to understand? He said he’s as scared as she is, but if he was would he really be pressing right now?

”No, no we shouldn’t.”

”I need some air.” Persephone said quietly. “I’m gonna go outside.” Hades turned to look at her. His gaze hurt like a honey bee sting. “Balcony?” He asked and she nodded. “Okay. I’ll bring the cookies when they’re done.”

She didn’t move fast getting up and walking, but she could thank their babe for that. Gods, she couldn’t imagine feeling like this for the entire pregnancy. It doesn’t matter though. Their babe would be worth every second.

As much as she was petrified, she was also giddily excited. If everything went good this time she would finally be a mother. Persephone placed her hand on her barely showing stomach, smiling to herself. There was a babe in there. Their babe was in there. It would grow, and in eight-ish more months of this so far decently uncomfortable pregnancy, if the fates were on her side she was gonna have a baby. They would finally have a baby.

”Hi baby.” She spoke before registering the words actually left her mouth. She settled down in her balcony chair, fanning herself with her outdoor kept fan. “I know ya probably ain’t big enough to hear me, but that hasn’t stopped me yet.” She laughed a little to herself.

”It’s your mama again. I’d introduce you to your daddy but every time we talk he’s always doin’ somethin’. I’m sorry, baby.” Persephone told her growing babe, more or less just to talk. “I sent your grandmother a letter ‘bout you. She actually sent me one back, she don’t do that much anymore. She said you’re gonna be a girl if ya make it. Your grandma knows a lot but not the answer I want. All I can do is hope for you, little babe. I love you y’know. Please don’t leave us, baby.”

She didn’t know why she was so insistent on talking to her barely made babe, but every pregnancy it was the same. She begged her babes to hold on like they had a choice whether they actually lived or not.

Fuck

Her body ached again nausea spreading, but as much pain as she was in she smiled down at her stomach. “You’re quite the little devil in there.” A low laugh rumbled from behind her, and Persephone jumped. She spun her head to look at the offending husband laughing in the doorway.

”What the hell did you do to my cookies?” She mumbled, Hades placing their plate on the small table between their chairs. He pressed a kiss to her cheek before going to his own side. Flour dotted his pinstripes, and it made her smirk. Even the the way too flat cookies on the plate made her still smirk. “Think it was too much baking soda.” He rumbled, that wonderful smile he saved for her and only her spread across his face. Even if he fucked up her very craved cookies she still loved him more than anything in the realms.

”How much did ya put in? Table or tea spoon?” She inquired, raising a brow and taking a cookie from the plate. “Table.” She threw her head back in laughter, reviving a semi-glare from her husband. Not that she was looking, rather she could feel his gaze. “Tea, lover. ‘tsp’ means tea spoon, ya idiot.” She teased, and before she could register the movement, her husband’s arms were wrapped around her playfully.

”Idiot, that’s not very nice, Seph.” She giggled a bit, turning her head slightly to kiss him. “Well, it’s true. But you’re my idiot.” Hades’ rumbling laugh echoed in her core, a warm and familiar sound. “Hey, say hi to your baby. You’re never with me long enough to talk to ‘em.”

”Hey, baby. I’m your father.” Hades said gently, now kneeling in front of her, his hand joining hers on her stomach. Where those tears in his eyes? Was he really crying? Was it her fault? She opened her mouth to speak, but the words died in her own forming of tears listening to Hades talk.

”I love you baby. I love you and your mama more than anything in the world. I’m gonna give you the world baby, I promise.”

#hadestown #persephone #hades #hades hadestown #persephone hadestown #hades and persephone #hades/seph #hadestown fanfiction #hadestown fanfic #rt writes #Hadestown fic #soft #tw for mention of miscarriges

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ghostspideys-moved · 4 years

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Wait For Me

A/N: Okay, so I know I’m already writing another oc fic but that’s fine, that’s never stopped me. This is supposed to loosely parallel one of my favorite musicals, Hadestown, so if you haven’t listened to it yet, you should. Also thanks to @bravest-at-heart for listening to me ramble and figure out the details, you’re the real mvp.

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Steve Harrington x OC

Summary: River doesn’t quite know how to handle doing normal everyday things because she’s never had to, but a job seems like a good place to start.

Chapter One

It wasn’t a stretch at all to assume that River didn’t know what she was doing. It had been so long now that she’d escaped from Hawkins Lab and left that behind. It was the last thing she wanted to concern herself with now.

The only problem was, now she had absolutely no clue what she was doing. Despite her best efforts, she somehow got herself wrapped up in the weird happenings in Hawkins. Having to fight Demodogs and the Mind Flayer was not really her idea of a good time. But somehow she’d gotten roped in again, and now that everything was calm again, she wasn’t entirely sure where to go from here.

For as long as she’d been trying to assimilate with life in Hawkins, that had been a lot easier said than done. More than anything, she needed a job, but she had no clue where to even start.

The unfortunate part was probably that her life hadn’t been all that great after leaving the lab, and technically, she wasn’t really sure how people handled every day problems like getting a job. She’d never had to before.

The only thing River could really think to do was ask Hopper for help, and he’d been nice enough to give it a shot. In her mind, he was probably the best person to ask. The only other adult she might have been able to go to was Joyce, but her and her sons had packed up and left Hawkins a few months ago. Not that she really blamed them after everything that happened with Will.

Thankfully, Hopper gave her the idea to find a job somewhere in Starcourt. She remembered that Steve and Robin both had jobs there at Scoops Ahoy, so it was a good enough place to start.

River decided to walk there herself. She needed the fresh air anyways despite the fact that it was fall and, therefore, windy as all hell. Honestly, she didn’t mind one bit.

By the time she made it to the mall, her red hair was windblown and probably looked like a disaster. She tried to tame it as she wandered around, occasionally glancing at some of the other stores sprinkled around the mall. Typically, there were lots of people casually flitting in and out of the different stores, and this was no exception. At the very least, the mall got a lot of business, so it wasn’t like she wouldn’t be busy anywhere she found a job.

River spotted Scoops Ahoy in the distance and quickly navigated through the crowd of shoppers. As she expected, Steve and Robin were slinging ice cream and trying their hardest to get through the line of customers. She shoved her hands in her pockets and tried to wait patiently until they’d gone through the worst of the rush.

Once the line died down, River walked up to the counter and smiled brightly at her friends. As she approached, Steve put away his ice cream scoop and leaned against the counter.

“What can I get for you?” he asked. “Mint chocolate chip, right?” She hadn’t expected him to remember her favorite ice cream at all, especially seeing as she’d only shown up to bother them a handful of times. Far less than the Party.

River shook her head. “No. Actually, I was wondering if you could help me with something.” He gave her a curious look, maybe even somewhat concerned, but she was quick to assure him it was nothing life threatening this time. “Do you think there’s a chance of me getting a job here?” she asked. “Or anywhere in the mall?”

Steve grinned, perking up at the question. Clearly she’d said something to excite him.

“Actually, yeah. This is perfect,” he said, ignoring Robin’s sighing. “I was actually thinking about quitting, so if I did that, I know the owners would be happy to have someone else fill my position.”

“He’s been talking about quitting for a while now,” Robin said. “It might be quieter without him here.” River knew she didn’t really mean it. She’d be willing to bet she’d miss him the moment he was gone.

“Really? I mean, if you really think I have a shot.” It was good enough for her, and she really needed the job. It was far better than nothing.

Steve seemed pretty adamant that it was a good idea, and she really didn’t have any other ideas at the moment. River didn’t see a reason not to take the chance. Thankfully, he agreed to put in a good word and help her get everything taken care of. He didn’t see any reason she wouldn’t get the job.

Seeing as his shift was nearly over, Steve offered to take her back home if she was willing to wait. The moment he offered her ice cream again, she was convinced. She sat in one of the booths nearby as she worked on her cone in the meantime.

Surprisingly, the wait didn’t feel all that long, and River watched as Steve and Robin talked and said their goodbyes. She waited outside as Steve closed up, and he joined her as soon as he was done.

“Ready?”

River nodded and followed him out to his car. It was strange seeing how empty the parking lot was compared to a few hours ago. The only sounds she could pick up were their footsteps and the leaves skittering along the asphalt. It might have been peaceful if she hadn’t witnessed the horrors that so easily hid in such a small town. Somehow, she doubted anything terrible would be happening for a while, but her imagination was great at running wild despite the rational part of her brain.

When they got in the car and drove off, neither of them said anything for a while. It wasn’t quite an awkward silence exactly, but the air was certainly thick with silence as if neither of them wanted to be the first to speak up.

It wasn’t until they were probably a few miles away from Starcourt that River decided to say something to fill the silence. “So, why are you quitting?” she asked curiously.

Steve shrugged, his eyes never leaving the road. “It’s not like I get paid a whole lot,” he said. “If I’m being honest, there’s something else I want to do a lot more than scoping ice cream every other day.”

Admittedly, River had no clue what else he’d want to do. As far as she could think, she hadn’t seen him show much interest in much else outside of basketball. She was sure he had to have other interests, but she sure as hell had no clue what they were.

“Yeah? And what would that be?”

Steve hesitated, almost like he was psyching himself up to answer honestly.

“For a long time, I’ve always wanted to write music,” he admitted. “I know it’s probably stupid, but I really think I could make it. I’ve actually got something in the works right now.”

That was probably one of the last things she’d been expecting to hear from him. The more she thought about it, though, she had a feeling he might be onto something. On the few occasions she’d heard him sing, he sounded amazing, and she was sure he wouldn’t be too bad at writing songs. In fact, she could recall a few times she’d heard him make up random songs while he was doing something. It was dorky, sure, but wasn’t that really the same concept?

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” River assured him. “We all have dreams, Steve. I don’t see why you shouldn’t at least try. You’ll have to let me hear your song when you finish it.”

He seemed beyond relieved that she was on board. Something else seemed to be nagging him though, but she wasn’t sure whether to pry or not.

There was more silence until they slowed to a stop outside the cabin. Hopper’s car was sitting outside, so he must be back from work already. It wasn’t all that long ago that he took on River and her brother, but she quickly got a hang of the way things worked living with Hopper. It was a lot nicer than the lab by a long shot. No doubt he’d have questions about her job search as soon as she went in.

Steve sighed as he parked and turned to her.

“Look, I’ve gotta get something off my chest.” She was a little concerned that something was wrong, but she only nodded in response. “We’ve been friends for a while now, right? And after the shit-storm my life has been, it’s probably been the best part of this whole mess. I know there isn’t a whole guarantee the music thing will work out for me.”

“What’s wrong, Steve?” The more he went on, the more she couldn’t help feeling concerned.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Steve promised. “More the opposite really.” He paused, running a hand through his hair as he seemed to be thinking about his words carefully. “I want you to come with me.”

River gave him a confused look, not really sure she understood. “I’m sorry, what?”

He took her hands in his, and her face grew a bit warm. The last thing she wanted was to jump to conclusions, but she could almost see where this was going.

“I know this is really out of nowhere, but I like you, River. A lot. And I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, but I got an apartment not that long ago, and I want you to come with me.”

To say this was sudden was the understatement of the year. River was barely processing anything he’d said, and he deflated a little at her silence.

“I know, I shouldn’t have sprung all of this on you, but I really needed to get it out there. I get it if you don’t want to,” Steve said. “I get it. I probably should have listened to Robin when she said not to come on too strong.”

There was a lot running through her mind. They’d both barely finished high school last year, and of course there was the fact that he was quitting. As far as she was aware, that meant she’d probably be the one working. There were a lot of reasons to call his plan crazy.

“I don’t know, Steve. I like you, I really do.” If she was being honest with herself, she had for a while now. “But that’s kind of a crazy idea.”

Steve chuckled and shrugged. “Well, I’m known for having some wild ideas.” He gave her a reassuring smile which practically made her melt inside. “You don’t have to say anything right now, but if you thought about it at least, that would mean a lot to me.”

She knew she was going to have a lot to think about. “Alright. I’ll think it through,” she promised.

Satisfied with that answer, he smiled brightly and kissed her cheek without hesitation. “Thank you.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #joyce and hopper will also be important soon enough just fyi

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pookapics · 5 years

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‘Way down to Hadestown’ - MobBoss!Steve Rogers x Reader - Chapter 3 - Wait for me as he builds his wall.

Masterlist - https://protectthelesbians.tumblr.com/post/189126314108/way-down-to-hadestown-masterlist-mobbosssteve

Warnings: Mafia!SteveRogers, Mobsters, Heartbreak, Cheating, Eventual romance, Sexual innuendo, Age-Gap (Reader is 21 and Steve is 30 so 9 year difference), Hints of violence.

Сволочь* - Scum/Jerk in Russian

Big Louis�� POV

The club was quiet, the drunk patrons had stumbled out of the club, leaving only those working late left. Pietro, the bartender, himself and a couple of the girls who performed and entertained the guests were some of the few left here. My guys were outside, taking a break for themselves, like dogs needing a run-about when being stuck in the house all day. The quiet was nice, the only sound being the clinking of glasses as Pietro cleaned the used glasses and gently dried them off with his white towel which he kept slung over his shoulder. The soft music played throughout the club, my foot tapping gently as I settled back. When suddenly a figure rushed through the club’s doors, the man looking around aghast

“(YN)?!” The man called out which made everyone perk up and turn to look at the man who was yelling the name of one of their ex-coworkers. News spread fast around the club, the walls were always listening even when you didn’t think they were. I recognised the boy, dressed in a cheap suit, faking it till he made it.

It was (YN)’s old boyfriend, Oscar. Everyone knew what kind of guy he was. It was obvious from the first encounter I had with the punk, he was full of big dreams. Dreams that he prioritised over his girl. His girl who’d been nothing but loving from the looks of it, loyal like a dog to its master.

But it was obvious that the feeling wasn’t exactly reciprocated.

“Hey, the big artiste! Ain't you working on your masterpiece?” I bellowed out, Oscar turned around quickly to face me, his hands clutching a piece of paper which seemed to be a poster but had something written on the back, (YN) had probably left a note for him. Guess he wanted answers. Oscar made a quick quip and asked, venom hidden in his voice, almost like a child who’d lost their favourite toy “Where is she?” He glared at me, this kid for sure had some guts to talk to me like that but I needed to shoot him down, that girl was free and didn’t need whatever was darkly lingering in this ex of hers near her anytime soon.

“Brother, what do you care? You'll find another muse somewhere~” Deeply chuckling as I watched the young man glare at me “Where is she!?” He repeated like a broken record, getting right in my face as he did so till one of my guys came back in and yanked him off with a grunt “Oi!? Hands off the boss, you street-rat!? You want us to get rid of’ him, Boss?” Holding Oscar in a tight hold, gripping onto his shirt collar. I raised my hand to stop my men “Keep a hold on em’ I wanna talk.”

Smirking, I cracked my knuckles and staring into Oscar’s eyes, as if trying to intimidate him “Why do you wanna know?” Leaning down to patronise him, as Big Louis, I need to show him who was the Boss around here. Oscar stared up at me with wide eyes as he tried to come up with something to say “Wherever she is, is where I'll go!” He struggled against the grasp of my men “Where is she?! I know she works here?!” My men kept him down as he got a bit feisty. In my head, I pondered what I was going to do with him, would I just dispose of him permanently or....

Would I have some fun?

I chose the latter “What if I said she's down below?” smirking like a cat that got the cream, watching as the kid’s face dropped, face gone pale and white “Down below?” He stuttered out and stared with wide eyes, he understood the meaning behind my words. When people around here said ‘Down Below’ they knew what it meant.

‘The Underground’, a place of rumour and myth, where only a few were welcome and where unwanted people would never return from.

I chuckled deeply and nodded and repeated “Down below.”

‘Six-feet-under-the-ground below

She called your name before she went’

I glared down at him “You’ve not been easy on your girl, young man~ She had enough of your bullshit.” I could see the rage building back up again in Oscar’s face as he tried to speak but I interrupted quickly “Couldn’t you see how brought down your girl was? Well… But I guess you weren't listening.” Oscar’s face dropped as it hit him, the reality of it all “No…” He looked defeated for a moment as he stared at the floor, for a moment I felt bad but then I remembered. This guy left his girl to the dogs in his chance to reach success, in this place you needed to stick together. Even the girls in the club stuck together, I’d seen the sisterhood of them all during the busiest nights. And though I kept myself up front, I did secretly take care of my staff, making sure they were safe in this dangerous part of the city. Pulling the strings behind the scenes, keeping the front of the cold type, many in this profession needed to keep a tough face, as not to let anyone see through you.

Steve Rogers was the master of that.

This young man however was easily seen through, he was as transparent as glass.

So I decided to test him, to see if he could pull his face back and not be seen right through to the other side “So… Just how far would you go for her?” Wiping my thumb and forefinger across my chin as I stared at the man before me, examining how he would react, he quickly responded, not pondering for long “To the end of time, to the end of the earth.” I held back a chuckle, empty words with an empty meaning behind them, a fool’s words. Tapping my foot repeatedly against the ground as I spoke up “Strong words, young man but how do you expect to get the underground? You got a ticket?” Questioning him more as my men and I looked down at him as he played with his hands, trying to form a plan on the spot. You needed to be quick off the mark “No...?” He spoke quietly and sheepishly as I bellowed out a laugh “Yeah, I didn't think so.”

Turning my back to the boy for a few moments, before teasingly letting out a sliver of chance for the man, playing with him “Course, there is another way, but I ain't supposed to say it…” Pretending to be torn about whether or not to let out the piece of ‘information’ I had passed from my lips as I saw the Oscar’s face light up “Another way?” Hope laced his voice somewhat as I approached Oscar “Yeah, around the back, but that ain't easy walkin', Jack, It ain't for the sensitive of soul, so… You really wanna go?” Quirking my brow at him as he nodded fervently, I smirked ‘Just what I wanted to hear’ circling Oscar as I spoke, awaiting him to speak again “With all my heart…” He spoke solemnly and stared determinedly, I questioned how I thought of the boy but memories of (YN) calling up the club in tears about him was enough, I needed to know, so I began to spin my tale “Huh, with all your heart… Well, that's a start.” I ran my hands across my suit jacket before getting face to face with Oscar “How to get to ‘The Underground’, you'll have to take the long way down.” My hand motioning downwards to gesture the descent he’d be making to ‘find his girl’

‘Through the underground, under cover of night’

I snapped my fingers, making my men drop Oscar to the floor, letting him adjust his collar and rub his neck, which was bruised from being held up by men by his shirt-collar “Laying low, staying out of sight.” I knelt down and spoke to him, he’d recomposed himself quickly for a young man “How do I find it?” He asked, making me laugh and chuckle “You think the gangs would be desperate to find the place if there was a set of directions? There ain't no compass, brother, ain't no map, just a telephone wire and the railroad track, you keep on walking and you don't look back… 'til you get to the Bottomland.” I pointed to the door, that was all the information I’d give him, motioning for him to get out, which he did. Scuttling to the door like a rat on the subway, frightened and on a mission

‘Wait for me, I'm coming

Wait, I'm coming with you

Wait for me, I'm coming too

I'm coming too…’

Pietro, who was still behind the bar, he turned to me and frowned “Uhm Sir… If this is not too much to ask but why did you tell him how to find her? I thought you set this up for her to get away from that Сволочь?*” Frowning at me, I knew he’d be defensive at the mere mention of this, knowing his sister was close to the girl “I didn’t, he’s too much of a fool to see through my lies~” Pietro was shocked but refilled my drink quietly and quickly “I just sent ‘em on a little goose-chase.” I picked up my refilled glass “And no man without a death wish would enter ‘The Underground’ even if given the correct coordinates.” Taking a swig of my drink and wiping my lips with my sleeve.

‘ The river Styx is high and wide’

I sighed, “The place is paradise to those who are already livin’ there but those who try to enter unwanted are given a daunting welcome… Cinder bricks and razor wire, w alls of iron and concrete.” Explaining to the wide eyed Pietro who gasped “You’ve been there haven’t you.” As I chuckled and briefly nodded, Pietro asked again “But what about the… you know?” Hesitant and fearful like a child asking about the monster hiding under the bed “Oh I’ve met them alright… Hound dogs howling 'round the gate, them dogs'll lay down and play dead, If you got the bones, if you got the bread, but if all you got is your own two legs...You best be glad you got 'em.” Pretending to snarl deeply which made Pietro shiver, he’d heard rumours and chit-chat of the ‘Hound dogs of the Underground’ around the club, and it wasn’t good chit-chat at that.

‘Wait for me, I'm coming

Wait, I'm coming with you

Wait for me, I'm coming too

I'm coming too…’

Placing my glass down “I’m an old man, I’ve seen the neighbourhood grow darker and darker as time goes on. I’ve ran, I’ve fought and scratched my way up to where I am now.” Glancing to Pietro who hung off every word that left my lips “You're on the lam, you're on the run, don't give your name, you don't have one and don't look no one in the eye…” I pointed my finger to Pietro before pointing to the club as I continued, Pietro watched and as did the girls from round back, listening in “Listen to me, this town will try to suck you dry, they'll suck your brain, they'll suck your breath… They'll pluck the heart right out your chest.” Pulling my hand to my chest where my own heart was beating quickly as I reflected on the bloodshed that lingered on the streets of this neigbourhood.

‘They'll truss you up in your Sunday best

And stuff your mouth with cotton’

Pietro let out a faint smile as he cleaned a glass “There is a heart in there after all.” He teased and put the glass away in the cabinet, ready for tomorrow as I chuckled “There once was, I guess this is just the remains of what once was there.” Finishing my drink which Pietro had made “Couldn’t let a sweet thang get swept into that darkness, at least she has a chance with Rogers. A chance to get away or at least hide from it easier.” Pietro nodded “Good for her…” he took off his apron as it was officially time to close up “Yeah… Good for her.”

‘Wait for me, I'm coming

Wait, I'm coming with you

Wait for me, I'm coming too

I'm coming!

Wait

Wait…’

Your POV

Steve brought you to the warehouse, this was the front of the Underground, you figured. It wasn’t finished and seemed to be expanding, ever-growing. Hoards of people were working at different tables, some holding down blueprints while others were sorting through crates in the corner

‘Why do we build the wall?

My children, my children

Why do we build the wall?’

‘Was this the paradise everyone spoke of?’ You thought as you stared around, Steve continuing to guide you through the place as the workers glanced in your direction in interest, trying to sniff you out. Keeping your head down as not to draw attention to yourself as you entered a new room. It was much smaller and more decorated, decorated with care. Inside there were 3 figures sitting at the table, bickering over something.

Two men and a woman, that flipped a switch in your head. You’d heard around the club about the infamous ‘Hound-dogs of the Underground’. They were spoken in quiet whispers, as if, if you even dared speak their name too loud they’d be summoned and will tear you apart like the newspapers explained in their sensationalist articles. The Hound-Dogs were also called another name…

“Cerberus.” You spoke aloud by mistake, eyes wide in fear like a deer waiting to be attacked by the wolves, the wolves you feared that were worse than the pride of lions you’d left behind. The small group turned their heads to focus their attention on you “That’s a new one.” The red-headed woman smirked, she looked as if she’d eat you if you looked at her the wrong way, she sauntered over “This must be the sweet thing the Boss won’t stop talking about huh?” Her heels clicking against the floorboards, you gulped, slightly intimidated by her presence which was overwhelming at best “Nat~ Stop teasing, play nice with the new girl. Sorry ‘bout her doll she can be… a bit much.” The man who spoke was tall and had long dark hair which hung around his face but there was something you couldn’t ignore about him.

The singular black leather glove he wore on his left hand.

A curious thing it was but you wouldn’t ask to many questions, not wanting to find out if there were consequences to your action “Uhm its okay.” You squeaked as you looked at the woman named Nat and the man with the leather glove. Nat shoved the man jokingly “I wasn’t trying to scare her James, I was going to play nice~” winking at you, you didn’t know what game she was playing but you guess over time you’d figure it out. The last man walked over “Enough bickering you two, jeez its like an old married couple.” He rolled his eyes “I’m Sam Wilson, I’ll be polite and introduce myself unlike those two.” he joked which made you faintly giggle. Steve who was still stood beside you, hid a smile as you giggled. The other two turned to face you fully “Wow Wilson, that hurt my feelings~” Nat pouted and then looked at you “I’m Natasha, Natasha Romanoff, I keep these two in line most of the time and unlike these two I’ll actually do my job right and keep you safe.” She smiled faintly, that gave you some relief, she wasn’t as scary as she looked, but you wouldn’t underestimate her.

Next came the man Nat referred to as James who held his non-glove covered hand out for you to shake which you did “I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but most just call me Bucky.” you nodded and smiled as Sam spoke up again “And your name would be?” he laughed as he saw your cheeks go pink as you realised you hadn’t introduced yourself “U-Uhm I’m (YN) (LN).” You pulled back from shaking Bucky’s hand as the group nodded “A pretty name to match a pretty fa- OUCH!” Sam started to flirt but broke down into a pained expression as Nat’s heel was stamped into his foot, you hadn’t caught what happened or why? Bucky snickered and watched as Sam glared at Nat, the same way Steve had been glaring at Sam moments before, secretly.

Steve spoke up “Sam, can you accompany me to sort out transport to the main house?” He asked, staring at Sam who just nodded and agreed. Steve turned his head to you and placed his hand upon your shoulder for a moment “I will be only a moment.” his hand left your shoulder as he walked away, the warmth he emitted left you when he did, leaving you cold as he walked out of the room, leaving you with Natasha and Bucky. The room was quiet, your eyes turned to the one window in the room as you stared out to the construction “I-If I may ask… Why are you building all this? Its like you’re building a… well a-”

“A wall?” Natasha interrupted your stuttering, you nodded “Yes. A wall.” you stared out at the ever-expanding warehouse which was now starting to resemble a fortress. Natasha sighed “ The wall keeps out the enemy and I guess we build a wall to keep us free.” You frowned, a wall to keep you free? That statement to you was juxtaposed, walls were to keep you contained and withheld, how could it keep you free? “The enemy?” you managed to speak out, eyes watching Natasha, who was staring out to the construction as well now.

‘Who do we call the enemy?

My children, my children

Who do we call the enemy?’

Natasha sighed and rested her back against the wall, still staring outside, but still alert and on-guard “We have a lot of enemies laying out there, beyond the Underground, different gangs we’ve had some… nasty interactions with if you understand what I’m saying.” Her eyebrow raised until I nodded “I understand.” looking away from Natasha and the window to look around the room

‘Who do we call the enemy?

The enemy is poverty

And the wall keeps out the enemy

And we build the wall to keep us free

That's why we build the wall

We build the wall to keep us free’

Staring at the door, you waited for Steve to come back as you thought back to the crates that were in the main part of the warehouse, you thought back to it and wondered what was in them, curiosity getting the better of you. Bucky brought you back from your thoughts “Something making you think, doll?” You looked at him “Well. Uhm. I don’t want to ask too many questions. I don’t want to bother you.” Holding up your hands in defense as you looked at him. Bucky chuckled “What? You think if you ask too many questions we’ll chop your hand off or somethin?” He joked, making Natasha laugh as well, pink tinging your cheeks as he kept talking “You’re here now and well its best if you know how ‘this’ operates an’ all.” Gesturing to the warehouse, to which you nodded “So. Ask them questions is basically what James here means.” Natasha put it bluntly, cutting to the chase, something you think is a primary quality of hers. Just a hunch.

Breathing out, you asked your first question “What do you sell out? Most gangs have their specialties if I’m not correct.” It was common knowledge that most gangs had a specific poison they dipped their finger into.

Drugs, Alcohol and Casinos.

And you wondered which specialty the Avengers Mob fell into.

‘What do we have that they should want?

My children, my children

What do we have that they should want?’

Natasha laughed “Well… We mostly like to keep our hands clean so drugs are off the table. We specialise in liquor, even though that dratted law* is being repealed, we still have to smuggle it in, meaning big business, cause we have and they have not…” She paused before continuing “And now, we’re The biggest suppliers in the city.” Natasha spoke with pride, you could tell she’d been in this business for a while and was reveling in the success of it all.

‘What do we have that they should want?

We have a wall to work upon!

We have work and they have none

And our work is never done

My children, my children’

You smiled “Well. The repeal is nearly complete, we’re winning. The club I work. Well worked at, though its still hidden away, we’re still getting some success. And I can see that success is here too.” Nat simply nodded and glanced to you “Well. Even though the battle so far is in our favour... we can’t forget that the war is never won.” Her prideful tone dampened which made your heart sink to your stomach “I-I guess.” was all you could say in response to her. And with those words, Steve with Sam alongside him walked back into the room. Pulling yourself away from the window when you saw them enter, Natasha did the same as Steve spoke “Our Driver’s back from his break, he’s ready to take us to the Big House.” Bucky, who’d been quiet for some time nodded “Well, let's get there. I think the new girl needs to get settled in her new living quarters, eh Steve?” Steve nodded “Indeed. Lets go.” Steve was short with his words, walking out with Sam in tow, Bucky followed after the two.

Natasha sighed “Come on, let's catch up. Don’t want them leaving without us.” Her shoes clicking against the wood as she walked out, you followed after her like a lost puppy, sticking close to her as she was slowly growing into someone you could somewhat trust. You hoped so, she was a formidable force of a woman, a good person to have on your side you figured.

‘The enemy is poverty

And the wall keeps out the enemy

And we build the wall to keep us free

That’s why we build the wall

We build the wall to keep us free

We build the wall to keep us free...’

The group was herded into the limousine you’d arrived in, the driver from before who’d obviously been on his break was finishing his cigarette and stubbed it out on the group and crushed it beneath his heel quickly. Steve took your hand and helped you inside, he guided you to sit beside him, which you did. Natasha, Sam and Bucky sat on the other set of seats which were in the back of the limousine, sat back comfortably on the sleek, leather seats.

The limousine drove off, leaving the warehouse behind and heading into an area between the trees, easily hidden behind the warehouse, no wonder they were building the warehouse like a wall. The road was smooth as they drove along it, your hands remained in your lap as the journey to the ‘Big House’ was quiet among all of the people huddled in the back, glancing to the window, all you could see was trees. Dead due to the winter breeze which had taken over the city, the trees barren of leaves and of any life. A hand upon your thigh broke your gaze into the trees as you turned to see Steve looking at you “The trees spring beautifully in spring, many of the trees here are cherry blossoms, my ma admired them greatly.” he whispered to you, a softness you hadn’t seen before in him, revealing something so personal.

A crack in the mob boss persona, you suppose.

You smiled “That sounds beautiful.” whispering back to him as you stared back at the barren trees, imagining them beautifully in bloom in the spring-time with this horrid winter long behind them. As soon as that beautiful thought was imagined in your mind, the limousine stopped, they had arrived. Blinking, your eyes drifted to see the place they’d driven to, those same eyes widened in shock.

The ‘Big House’ was large indeed, a large stately home, rooms to spare probably if you guessed just by looking at the outside, biting your lip out of nerves as the Driver got out of the front to open the door for everyone, letting Steve and yourself out first with Natasha, Bucky and Sam tagging behind, Steve was of course let out first because of his title, who he was. Steve walked up to the large house, his arm extended to you, you took his arm as he pushed open the doors. Biting back a gasp as you looked around at the wondrous home, walls decorated in paintings, expensive paintings. The floor’s wooden and shined to perfection, no imperfection lay in the crevices in any pane of wood, the spiral staircase is what grabbed your attention the most. The stairs were shining opalescent, a dark burgundy carpet lined the middle as it trailed down each step till it reached the bottom.

Eyes wide in wonder, your head turned to take in the sight of it all, you’d never seen such luxury before in your life. It felt like something out of a fairy-tale you’d been told as a child by your grandparents, something that you couldn’t believe was real. Steve coughed as if to bring attention “Driver, bring her bags to the decided living quarters, Natasha will show you upstairs.” The driver carried the bags inside, though being a bell-boy wasn’t in his job description, he wouldn’t speak back to Steve Rogers so did what he was told. He turned to you, who was still admiring the beauty of the home

‘Then Steve told (YN)...’

Steve’s hand gently graced your waist, snapping you out of your daze and turning to focus on him as he spoke lowly “There are papers to be signed … Step into my office.” He led her away from the main entrance and towards a room on the far left. The room resembled a library, books lining the walls and soft furnished seats surrounding the old, dark oak desk which had its back to the large windows, giving the person who sat at that desk the perfect view of the warehouse and the surrounding area. Steve let you wander in first “Take a seat.” following orders you took a seat facing the desk, knowing Steve would sit behind it most likely.

‘And he closed the door behind’

Your ears perked up at the sound of the door softly clicking shut, you turned your head for a moment to watch Steve walking over to the desk, he smoothed out his suit jacket and trousers as he took his seat behind the desk, stretching out his arms “Now… I had Bruce write up a basic contract, just some things you need to be aware of and a job has been sorted for you, if you like the sound of it.” He had his business voice on, the same voice which answered the phone when you decided to take his offer “Yes, I understand.” you answered, interested in this job proposal he had. Steve chuckled “That’s good to hear.” he brought out the paperwork and put it on the desk, pulling a pen from his jacket pocket and extending it out to you.

This felt somewhat like a deal with the devil, being lured to his side and making a deal in return for your soul, unaware of the catch. But you didn’t have to be lured in anymore, he’d captured you in his lure hours before this moment. You took the pen from him and uncapped the fountain pen, you watched as Steve flicked through the pages of the contract, licking his thumb and forefinger before he did so, your cheeks tingling slightly “Firstly, we must discuss loyalty. To be sure that you will never share information concerning our dealings here or our location with anyone who could… disturb what we’re doing here. Understand, Songbird?”

‘Now a lot can happen behind closed doors’

You could only nod, not knowing what to say in response, but Steve needed more than that “I know this is a lot but I need your word.” His eyes flickered to a softer expression when he spoke this time, a kinder version came forth as Steve talked with you. Looking him in the eyes, you found your voice again “You have my loyalty and you have my word, Sir.” Steve froze for a moment but nodded “Good…” and as he flicked to the next page he spoke “and please call me Steve when we’re in private.” he smirked faintly which made your heart pound.

‘That's for sure, brother, that's a fact

Steve chuckled as he continued and flicked through the contract more “Now for your job proposal. Have you by any chance heard of JARVIS’ ?” He asked, to which you quickly nodded “Its one of the most exclusive speakeasy clubs in the city Si- Steve.” You corrected yourself quickly “Indeed. And I happen to co-own it with Anthony Stark.” he tapped his fingers against the desk “Tony Stark? The billionaire?” You tilted your head, making Steve nod and chuckle “Yes, I’ve been working closely with him for some time, I knew his father.” to which you briefly nodded, having heard of the Stark legacy and wealth. Steve hummed “Well, the recent singer has left due to unforeseen circumstances and they need a new source of entertainment at night.”

You went pale, he was offering you a job in the most exclusive club in the city, only the top dogs got into a place like that. Not even Oscar got a gig in there, it was reserved for the real wealthy, the ones who controlled the city. A perfect place to be ran by the mob. It again was the opportunity of a lifetime, you had to take it “So you’re offering me a job as a singer?” eyes wide still and heart beating fast, you wouldn't believe it. Somebody ought to pinch you.

Steve nodded “Yes. If you want it.” He eyed you closely and awaited you to respond with a simple yes or no, watching you as he saw your mouth open “Yes, I’d love the job. Thank you Steve.” Feeling the need to thank him for all of this, to which Steve held up his hand “You’re perfect for the job, your own talent got you the job, I just managed to have a space for you.” He grinned and watched as your eyes lit up “Thank you… no one's ever really told me that I’m well… talented.” you admitted as he flicked the pages “Well people should because its the truth.”

‘But a lot can happen on the factory floo r’

Steve showed the contract “This will be your pay, is this alright?” He pointed to the figure displayed on the paperwork, your eyes widened. He couldn’t be serious!? This was more than what you could earn in a year back at Big Louis, hell even triple “Steve… that can’t be right. Its far too much.” You couldn’t accept that much from him, it was a mad amount of money. Steve stopped you “It isn’t, we’re paying for your talent and that’s how much your talent is worth to us.” He insisted and eventually you relented and agreed upon the amount, it was an impossible amount to even imagine.

‘When the Foreman turns his back ’

Steve opened on the last section of the contract “As for housing, you may stay here if that what you wish, though if not I would have to insist. This place is the safest, guarded and protected.” The sight of men patrolling outside the edges of the house could be seen out of the window which you saw over Steve’s shoulder. You nodded as Steve continued, “You would have your room and ensuite, the rest is shared amongst the rest of us who stay in this house.” You wondered how many people lived in this house, you guess you would find that out for yourself soon enough “I’ll stay here, as you said its the safest.” You looked into Steve’s eyes which were on you, the blue of his eyes looked electric amongst the deep colours which shrouded his office, he looked golden and shining, his hair still resembling a halo like it did back at Big Louis’. Steve nodded and pushed the contract towards you, it slid gently across the desk to where you sat

“Now all you have to do is sign.” His voice deep, it made your ears tingle in the best way, sounded like a deep melody which would bring you in closer with every note, you held the fountain pen in hand as you signed the bottom of the page with your name, for it to be labelled there forever

‘(YN) (LN)’

Gently you passed the contract back to Steve, who simply checked it through before putting it aside “I suppose you should be wondering where you will be sleeping.” he rose to his feet as you agreed “Lets have Natasha show you to your room, I have business to attend to.” He stood beside you as you walked towards the office door, he leaned in and whispered into your ear “But I will check in on you, Little Songbird.” That voice and those words sent a shiver down your spine, goosebumps on your arms as he opened the door and let you out. Closing the door behind you, leaving you standing in the large expanse of the house, chest tight and cheeks flushed pink.

He truly was the devil, but the devil is so tempting and enticing, its impossible to avoid his captivating spell which he’d cast upon you. A spell for some reason, you didn’t want to end anytime soon.

Wandering back to the main entrance, you followed the sound of voices till you reached a lounge where Bucky and Sam were seated, Natasha was stood behind a make-shift bar which was situated in the farside of the large lounge-area, seats were everywhere, to house a large amount of people, the house parties here must be extravagant. You sat down on a seat opposite Sam and Bucky, the two rose a brow “Did you sign the deed?” Bucky asked as you responded “Yes, Yes I did.” that was enough of an answer for him. Trying to settle your tight chest with the pounding of your heart, you sat back in the chair, trying to re-compose yourself, feeling similarly to how you were when you first met Steve back in the club.

Natasha’s voice broke the silence of the lounge “ Anybody want a drink?”

————————

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hollywoodx4 · 5 years

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You all asked for another set of my trash human Hadestown hot takes so.....

I think maybe I should just start from the beginning and go from there, and sprinkle some details in when I think about them. And since you’ve mentioned before that detail is a good thing, I’m going to try really hard to articulate the 500 versions of “I can’t” and “She did that” and “UM” and “GIRL” Also as always, I apologize, but this is honestly a lot of Eva and Reeve heavy content. I love all of the cast, they are all so phenomenally talented and wonderful, but as usual my mind has chosen to hyper-focus on two things so this is what it is.)

(So. I’m thankful for this platform because before my notes were ALL “Um” and “Girl” and now you guys are motivating me to actually write what I’ve been thinking about non-stop all day on my one hour of sleep. So. Thank you! I went about labeling every song-and I actually end up having thoughts for every one, because I went back and listened through and wrote down what I could remember/the things I thought were relevant for the people that won’t be able to see it outside of the boot that literally everyone but me has at this point).

This is only act I. This is a loooooong hot take. This is a lot of Eva and Reeve specific commentary. This is just a lot of commentary. I think it’d be cool/beneficial/whatever to listen as you read? LOL thanks for coming to my actual, legitimate 5 page essay on Act I.

So. My overarching thought of the night (and, actually, I think I mentioned this when I was there two weeks ago too) is that Eva has been playing an incredibly soft Eurydice lately. Compared to when I was there for previews in April, or even back in August, it seems like each time I’ve gone back she just gets softer and softer, and it’s made me so incredibly happy to see her characterization grow. I do see Eurydice as someone who has been through a lot, and does have that tougher skin, and I think that Eva does a fantastic job in representing that in Any Way the Wind Blows. She keeps her voice strong and consistent, and has this look on her face that’s a cross between worry, wavering confidence, and just this tough shell of a girl who’s trying not to look like she’s given up. And this works so incredibly well when she meets Orpheus. Because I’m telling you, the flip in her demeanor happens in the most noticeably beautiful way during Wedding Song. But first, let’s talk about the fact that I’m not sure who decided that it’d be a good idea that Eva play with fire during this song, and aesthetically it’s just such a MOMENT to see Eurydice looking bored, head down on her arms on the table, eyes wide and uninterested/exhausted/hungry as she runs each of her fingers through the flame (and, at times, pauses to inspect the finger she’s just put into the fire, rub it against another finger or the table, and then begin her game again) I don’t know why this has become one of my favorite things about the staging but? I imagine this being something Eurydice just does sometimes to keep herself from thinking about how hungry she is, and it becomes a habit so that in the iteration where they both make it out of Hadestown and live happily ever after Eurydice just does this one time and makes poor Orpheus jump out of his skin worried that she’s somehow going to send herself back down by doing this. Because they still are walking on eggshells about the fact that they made it out and here she is playing with fire, LITERALLY. Okay, moving on....

So. What I like about Wedding Song live is that her speaking voice just. It’s a bit higher, softer. She still carries the teasing tone, but there’s just this incredulous lift in “is he always like this?” and a lot of laughter in “Oooh, he’s crazy.” and Reeve plays Orpheus so sweet and innocent that you can’t help but feel bad for this bumbling idiot stumbling over himself at this beautiful girl sitting there looking completely cool and collected. But. There’s a beautiful thing about the composition and balance Eva is able to maintain in that you can see that Eurydice is openly intrigued, but keeps herself guarded in a playful sort of way. Almost like she can’t keep herself guarded and wants to let her guard down. Her smile kills me over and over again during this scene. Again, Eva’s Eurydice has turned into quite the small, beautiful romantic and I just am so in love with everything that she has subtly changed and morphed, the girl is an absolute QUEEN.

Also, I can’t go any further without saying a big THANKS to Eva for making me cry the SECOND I heard her start to sing Any Way the Wind Blows and just continue that train all night long. What a fucking night.

Okay, so my favorite thing about Epic I is the sheer power that small boy Orpheus has in singing his la laas for the first time. I remember distinctly having the most goosebumps the first time I witnessed this back in April, and every single time it just. Leaves me breathless. And I think now that it’s been a few times, the goosebumps come from knowing how significant this melody will be throughout the show. But Reeve’s facial expressions as he sings them? Make you believe that la is the most important syllable in the dictionary. He closes his eyes and just feels the music and plays his guitar and he is just so phenomenally talented that WOW. Also my favorite small part of this song is that during my favorite line “with them the cycle of the seed and the sickle, etc.” he spins in circles while playing and singing and just. It’s the smallest amount of choreography that feels the most necessary, as if it’s Orpheus becoming so enraptured with the music that he has to move! And it’s in the middle of the tables that are in the “bar,” with the workers and Eurydice looking on and watching him tell this tale. It all feels so incredibly genuine-it makes you believe that Orpheus singing to the workers is something they’ve witnessed, almost something they look forward to when they come to the bar. I think it has to do with the fact that they’re all just watching him, intrigued but also settled in? As if this is routine, this is comfort, his songs are meant for them and for this little community he has. Even when he plays the first note of the Epic they’ve settled in and are sitting up watching him and listening intently. It gives his character a lot of soft power and dynamic without having to say anything, establishing him as an integral part of this life without so much as a word.

Uhhh Living it Up On Top is just my most favorite feel-good bop. Why? Because of the ensamble. Watching them dance is a blessing. It honestly feels like watching a fucking family reunion freestyle dance party every single time. You can physically see and feel how close this cast is; they make faces at each other, they laugh, and also this instrumental break included the Eva Noblezada booty drop which is EVERYTHING. And she also did a full leg extension kick this time which. Girl. Save some talent and cuteness for everyone else. I also find it extremely appropriate that during all of this kickass dancing and partying our boy Orpheus in all of his gangly, limbly qualities can be found sort of flitting around the stage, taking Persephone’s coat, then Eurydice’s, then putting things away and moving around giving out the cups to toast- like. It’s lowkey established in this scene that he’s 10/10 not the cool and effortless one in this relationship and is the cute small boy child. And I don’t know if that’s because I think that Eva’s really cool and charismatic and Reeve is a bit more shy in a crowd situation, but that’s 100% how this comes off to me/how I perceive the characterization and I’m here for it. And when the line “to the patroness of all of this, Persephone” came up Reeve was like 10 octaves higher than the cast recording, all squeaky and flustered. And then between that and his next line, he took a breath and smiled the big stupid baby Orpheus smile that makes him so charming-if you weren’t rooting for him before now you’re messed, but after the smile? And the high-toned, flustered rambling toast? Makes it impossible not to love him. (Also “to the world we dream about…” is my most favorite Hadestown quote so. I choked because every time I hear it, especially as genuine and sweet as Reeve says it as he looks out at the crowd, and then at the audience, is just. It makes you feel the reality that this show crosses with its messages and its story as a whole). And then after they drink their toast they all sputter and cough, and then the ending when they all sing “HOW ARE WE LIVING IT” it literally is so powerful and dynamic, I love this ensemble so fucking much. Their energy truly fuels the show. We are blessed.

OOOOHKAY CHILDREN BUCKLE UP FOR ME BEING DECEASED. Because All I’ve Ever Known? Um Eva, what the fuck? In a good way. In the way that the second she started singing I started crying immediately. Because I’ll say it again, she’s just become so soft and romantic that I can’t even handle it. The distinct memory I have from this song (where I literally almost hit my cousin because I went from heart-eyed staring with no breathing and my head in my hands like the stupid hopeless baby lesbian that I am to breathing everything in all at once and coughing a BIG cough of just. Literally just love.) During “You take me in your arms, and suddenly there’s sunlight all around me” Orpheus holds Eurydice with her back to him, and she opens her arms and sings about the sunlight. And I fucking SWEAR TO GOD the smile on her face. Like. Big, wide, eyes closed, you’d 100% fall in love with her the second you saw it too. I don’t know how you couldn’t. She just looks so incredibly happy and peaceful and this is the moment she completely drops her guard (although I’ll say that I believe a lot of it is dropped earlier along. But this moment is a transcendental experience) OH ALSO during the violin instrumental she literally does this like. Handstand split Over Reeve’s head that is so poetically beautiful (that entire choreography is, like. It really just makes the love feel so incredibly palpable, and the fact that this is the turning point of moments where suddenly there are NO MOMENTS where they’re not all over each other is just. It’s a moment.) And then they kiss and it’s flawless and I sob profusely at how beautifully done this entire choreography/moment/existence of two souls happens.

Way Down Hadestown also includes two of my favorite moments; Amber Gray dancing with her body at a 90 degree angle, head looking at the floor, and Orpheus and Eurydice peacing out and sitting to the side sharing a bar stool unable to keep themselves away from each other. Which. Is everything to the point where I literally told my cousin to watch them during this song. Because. His ear kisses (which. I hyperventilated about for like 3 paragraphs back in the beginning of October) are SO MUCH (so tender. So soft. The brushing back of the hair over her ears and the soft spoken words and the head on her head make me want to careen into an abyss and fall in love immediately) but I love them with all of my heart, he is so soft and gentle and it literally feels like such a moment being intruded upon that this is the way these two characters were meant to be played and I will accept nothing else. Also, Eva’s little minor chord, jazzy vocal moment during the last “way down under the GROOOOOOOUND is so beautifully done, I can’t believe she exists and just acts like it’s not a big deal that she can just. Be that good. And I also love the way that this moment is staged; Hades and Persephone are standing on the center turntable, and at those last few “way down, Hadestown, way down under the ground” after “kind of makes you wonder how it feels,” right when it kicks back into the faster tempo the turntable starts to descend. And there’s some fog, and they all stand and watch them go under the ground, and when Eurydice sings the last “way down under…she moves closer to the now hole in the ground and looks deeper, as if she’s so curious as to what is going on.

A Gathering Storm/Epic II I just like that in the OBC recording, Eurydice sounds kind of salty when she says “well, until someone brings the world back into tune, this is how it is.” But I think that it’s perceived more as a kind of matter-of-fact thing, as if watching Persephone descend has brought her back into her shell a little bit, set off some anxieties. She shrugs her shoulders and looks complacent, as if to tell him without as many words that she’s done this before, this is old news, this is going to happen. And when he says “he came for her too soon,” it’s rushed and quiet, but frantic, as if the entire weight of the situation immediately has been cast on his shoulders. And for the most part, that’s all I’ve got for him. The real superstar in this scene is the fucking imagery used to introduce the workers, and the symbolism of the workers AS THE WALL. So, when he says “With a million hands, he built a wall” the workers ascend from the center turntable in that really tight knit formation we’ve all seen pictures of and it’s just. Watching them in their uniforms come up as he’s talking about this big, brilliant wall and the workers begin to move in unison, then begin their chanting???? The lighting changes, the entire feel changes just based on the workers chanting and really having this ferociously unified choreography. And the most intense facial expressions ever. And they move from the center turntable to the outsides, and then fucking Hades and Persephone come up when the transition happens to Chant and it’s. All you need to completely transform a set is the lighting change, the workers, and the turntable. It’s the most incredible thing to witness this and feel like you’re in a completely different place.

Also, I just always feel for Eurydice in this moment. Because. She’s trying so hard to communicate with Orpheus, who’s standing at the bar stool they’d had their moment at during Way Down Hadestown writing this song, and you can see that she’s trying to be supportive but when she says “is he always like this?” it’s just. Exhaustion. And she says it so much more quiet and defeated than she does on the OBC. It’s heartbreaking. Because at the same point you’re watching Orpheus struggle to write this song, closing his eyes and tapping his feet and just trying to feel and let that feeling translate him into the rest of this song but it just won’t come, and you can see his growing frustration in his furrowed brow and his closed eyes. What I noticed is that during Eva’s little solos “Trying to trust that the song he’s working on is gonna shelter us…” / “I’m trying to believe that the song he’s working on is gonna harbor me from the wind” She hasn’t gone up on the last little phrase like she does on the OBC, which is one of the things I find to be so powerful on the OBC. And it’s still beautiful, but I’m wondering why she’s seemingly been choosing to go down instead of have that little moment of vocal power. OH ALSO. When she says “Give that back! It’s everything we have!” Her voice was BROKEN. And by that I mean she sounded so worried and devastated that. It just. Her voice was cracking as she pleaded for the fates to leave her alone and it was so immensely wonderful, but heartbreaking. Because as she struggles with the fates and their winds, and they rip her possessions from her one by one, she shrinks further into herself as she tries to buck up and continue fighting. But you can see as each thing gets taken (her backpack, her coat, etc) she grows more and more devastated and frightened. And then when they take her jacket, and she has nothing left, and she sings “SHEEEELTER US, HAAAARBOR ME!” She’s on her knees with her head in her hands, rocking back and forth and it is torturous to witness because you just want to cry for her. And Eva’s such a fucking powerhouse that you can feel the raw emotion, the fear and the devastation, and it just consumes. It’s amazing to be broken by Eva Noblezada over and over again, and that’s what she does this entire show. She is phenomenal.

Hey, Little Songbird is a song I don’t really have a lot of notes for. But the one note I do have is that Patrick Page makes everyone so in awe and also slightly frightened or incredibly woke (the amount of small whispers in the audience that compare him to a certain man of political power are to be expected, but always are significant) He also just. Skeeves me out so much in this song, and Eurydice is so broken already that it’s kind of like. She’s resigned and having trouble making sense out of anything that life has just thrown at her, and she keeps going to hold herself because she’s cold and hungry and tortured, and she just. Honestly, she makes the choice seem like one that Eurydice had to make because she looks so lost and hungry and upset and unable to hold herself up anymore that the choice doesn’t seem like a misguided one.

When the Chips are Down If I could have as much talent in my body as these girls have in their pinky finger I’d be set for life. Also, now’s a good time to mention that I had the extreme pleasure of seeing Jessie Shelton step in as a fate and it just. It was a wonderful experience, that girl is incredible. I saw her in August as Eurydice and she did a fantastic job (my only note back then had been that her chemistry with Reeve hadn’t been as strong, but I loved what she did with Eurydice-making her more badass and thick-skinned and over-it and also I genuinely don’t think that the Reeve-Eva chemistry can be matched.) But the flawless nature of these three souls singing together and just. Being the shit-eating-grin, fun to fuck you up, take no prisoners voices inside of your head? It just furthers the interpretation that they are the voices in your head amplified, because while they’re sort of doing their mockery of Eurydice/pushing her for her choice/etc. she covers her ears at one point they’re taunting her and it just. It feels to me as they’re pushing her around that they’re the personification of the battle inside of her heart as well, and she can’t escape the turmoil.

Gone, I’m Gone Me crying because I knew Wait for Me was coming so I was digging through my bag for my tissues and gently laying some on my cousin’s lap. (she hadn’t done a full listen-through of Hadestown before either, so I just. Gently prepared her for what was to come without saying a single word.

Wait for Me Okay, how detailed can I go? I don’t know how to fully capture the immense, all-encompassing, my heart is literally stopped inside of my chest but also full-on beating heavy as possible feeling. The second the first notes started the tears started pouring. I have such a fond memory of seeing this for the first time that every time afterward, I just. MY body kicks into this mode of complete and utter captivation. I’m also an empath so getting to experience a room full of people on the edge of their seats, dead silence, utter captivation and zero breath��..I will never forget this feeling. When I saw Hadestown back in April while it was still in previews, this song was given a 3 minute standing ovation….everyone was just struck and unable to handle the raw emotion. And it still rings true to this day-I was clutching my tissue with such force, watching the lights swing and the workers and their lamps through my tears. The most powerful moment is when the workers come out with their headlamps, and it gets dark-you wonder where you’re being transported to next. It’s a tethering atmosphere. And then, when they plug the lamps in and send them up? When the lamps begin swinging and their lights swing over the audience, casting this brilliant movement and shadow into the air? It holds so much mystery and hope and it gives off this incredible, indescribable power. And the power of the chorus singing along with him? It doesn’t feel like they’re the workers singing along. It feels like Orpheus’s love is so strong and so powerful that the workers are actually just his voice amplifying and exploding and CAREENING AND CREATING ALL OF THIS FUCKING POWER FROM HIS SONG AND HIS LOVE. And also, during the la la las around 1:40 on the OBC recording, when it gets soft and quiet, that’s when the lamps go up into the air, and there’s a rumbling and some fog and the set sort of opens up to reveal sections of bright lights that glow warm, and red. He’s opening the fucking stone wall with his song, people, and it’s the most brilliantly moving staging I have ever seen. Again, you don’t need one million props to captivate an audience. It’s the way the story is told and the music is composed and everything working together. I love this. I love that nothing distracts from the moment, that the las and the workers elevating his voice and the movement of the set and the lights and the fog all come together as one coherent set piece instead of parts of a working machine. It feels so natural that you believe that Orpheus is actually opening the wall with his voice. This piece of theatre is so transcendental that you forget that you’re not actually there. Props to Reeve Carney for existing because the way he performs this song is just so captivating and pure, and you can see the desperation in his eyes but you can also hear it in his voice; it’s more strained (not in a bad or unhealthy way at all, I just mean that it’s like. The culmination of his efforts from the Epic and how hard he was concentrating have elevated his power and he’s just fully unleashing it) You can physically see what I believe-that this strain, this hurt and this hope and this desperation are what lead him to opening the wall. He was able to do it because as he was singing, he was clearly just hurt and so damn determined that he just. He had this red-cheeked, hard-lipped expression while he sang and his body (which I lovingly describe as gangly and limbly) is just. In a power stance. Like. You fully believe in the power of this man during this song, he gives it everything and he is a good portion of the reason it carries its power so immensely through the audience. There’s not a dry eye in the house after. And what I love is the collective, disbelieving mumblings of “oh my god” or “wow” or “he’s incredible” that echo through the room as the applause happens (and lingers, and lingers, until Why We Build the Wall cues us to take a fucking breath) (and the subsequent chatter of people basically asking if what they just watched was real, unable to not mention it during intermission).

Why We Build the Wall This is another one of my all-time favorite Hadestown songs. It just hits so hard. And for a while in the very beginning, I wondered why they didn’t end Act I with Wait for Me. I understand now. I don’t think I fully appreciated this song during my first few listen-throughs, and possibly not even after the first time I saw it. I think that this song deserves to be there because while Wait for Me has a lot of emotional lift and power and just pure mass to it, Why We Build the Wall holds its power differently. It makes the audience kind of shift in their seats, come back to the world we are in, kind of step back from the beautiful show of powerful love and hope and dedication that is Wait for Me and remember that oh, this is what’s going on on the other side. This is the man that’s trying to take everything away from Orpheus. And Patrick Page is such a gently commanding presence during this song-he is strong, and powerful, but in a way that feels scarily easy to him; like he is so confident in his power that it translates to this easy, call-and-response conversation because he knows his workers have no choice but to answer him and to appease him. Also the workers? In this song? Are a sheer force of nature. They look to the audience as they respond to each phrase Hades sings with these set-in-stone, serious, hardened expressions that match each other, and are perfectly in-synch. That’s what terrifies me about the Workers, is that they are so in tune to each other that it truly is like watching a wall, or a well-oiled machine. They do such a beautiful job in creating this sense of unease that this song was absolutely meant to be the ending of act I; they drive you to tears and ferocious emotion with Wait for Me, but they keep you unsettled and uncomfortable and stirred by Why We Build the Wall. And that, my friends, is why this musical was nominated for and won so many Tony’s. Because of it’s ability to make you feel, to ponder and to talk and to interpret. This show is so unique, and wonderful, and full of incredible things that I am always just in awe of it every time I see it.

Carry-Over notes: I skipped around a lot of my notes from the night of the show just because I couldn’t fit the less articulate with my actual thoughts post-show. I listened to the entirety of Act I while doing this, and took notes to the best of my ability and what I could remember.

· Eva Noblezada is such a soft human being, she is a treasure to this earth and I fully support everything she’s done with Eurydice thus far; soft doesn’t mean weak, and she translates that really well to the way she chooses to carry her. She is a strong woman, but she is so fucking in love that she is also so soft and pure. But you still wouldn’t fuck her up ever

· A good chunk of my notes from that night are about how Reeve singing the la laas in Epic I is a transcending experience, and how his soft and genuine and gentle expression made me break down immediately, and it can be felt in your soul.

· I also mention about 100 times that Reeve is 10/10 the only boy who has my heart because he is so artistically passionate and just really really fucking good at what he does (and so, so soft especially in the Orphrydice moments and what I’m calling his making Orpheus canonically obsessed with kissing Eurydice’s ear/side of cheek/neck it is THE SOFTEST MOST PURE THING)

So sorry. This is the longest of ramblings. But you asked for details and honestly I’m really excited to be able to have these long ass notes to save and keep with my playbills to show in the future with my kids or the patrons of the Broadway themed café I want to open when I’m a mid 40s lesbian with a wife and maybe some adopted kids.

#hadestown #like #i mean you can read this #i know it's a LOT #but I have a lot of feelings on Hadestown and I'm actually glad you all suggested I do this #just know that I'm not writing another dissertation in November #my notes will go back to incoherent flailing

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eliniei · 5 years

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Songbird - Emet-Selch x Warrior of Light

Summary: Emet-Selch visits the WoL and bids her play a song for him.

A/N: It has occurred to me that I have not posted quite a few things here that I did on Ao3, so I’m playing a little catch-up. This was prompt I picked up from a friend. This is based off of the Hadestown song, “Hey, Little Songbird.”

Word Count: 1480

Masterlist: here Ao3: here

----

I was sitting at my desk in my inn room, feather quill scratching against paper, as I tried my hardest to finish filling out the last of some paperwork that I’d let pile up on the table while I was off trying to defeat Lightwardens. I heard the familiar hum of a void portal behind me. Although I was slightly annoyed, a found my lips tilting upwards at the sound.

I looked over my shoulder as Emet-Selch walked through from wherever he’d been previously. He looked at me for a moment and I twisted further around in my chair to fully see him. Dramatically, he draped himself across the plush couch I’d had placed inside the room.

“Hero, I’m in need of a restorative,” he started, lazily waving one hand towards the piano in the corner. “Play me a song.”

I furrowed my brow at his request, not deigning to answer him, my eyes flicking to where he was motioning. I’d been avoiding it for as long as I could. Did I deserve to indulge in my own happiness when there were others that were suffering?

“What’s the matter, hm? Cat got your tongue?” I focused back on him.

“Couldn’t you just drink a tonic?”

“I find that music is the only thing that truly refreshes the soul. That and a good stage play.”

I sighed. The whims of this man were as strange as he was, though whenever he spoke, I felt as if I always wanted to do what he said. With a shake of my head, I stood from my desk and started making my way to the large instrument. I supposed satisfying his demands meant I wasn’t exactly pampering myself.

“Alright,” I agreed. “But just one. I have a lot of work to do and I’m already nearly running on empty.”

I slid onto the bench and lifted the fallboard. The sun’s rays made the white of the board glow. I ran my hands lightly over the keys as I marveled after the quality of the material. I had yet to play this piano after requesting it be brought here…I had barely a moment to myself, lately. It was as good a time as any. I placed my feet on the pedals, thinking about what song from my repertoire I should play for him.

Did he have a preference?

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. His eyes were closed as he lounged on my couch, one long arm dangling over the side, gloved fingers trailing back and forth along the fibers of the rug. I exhaled through my nose and pushed on one of the white keys. The sound was clear and bright. It sent a shiver up my spine. While I usually preferred a harp in battle, the piano had always been my absolute favorite.

I started with my melody, slow at first. As the song continued, the tempo picked up, fast enough that my hands were flying across the keys.

Suddenly, I felt an unexpected presence next to me and I hit a very loud, very wrong note. I froze, eyes wide, and stared down at my hands for a moment, then looked up, ready to admonish him for distracting me when he was the one who wanted me to play in the first place. But, the Ascian didn’t say a word as he sat down next to me. I moved over a little to make sure he had room, my words of reprimand lost on my tongue at the look on his face.

“Continue,” he ordered. He lifted his hands to the keyboard. I tilted my head, confused.

“You can play?”

“I have been alive for thousands and thousands of years, hero,” he said, his gold eyes sliding over my fingers, still poised on the keys. “It would be remiss of me not to pick up a few skills for self-entertainment, especially after so long alone.”

My eyes dropped to my lap. I always forgot how long his existence had been. I couldn't even begin to imagine how lonely he’d been. I inclined my head a bit towards him and shoulder to shoulder, we began the song anew, his fingers gracefully, expertly hitting all the correct notes.

By the time the song had ended, I had a soft smile on my face and I closed my eyes. How nice it felt, to have a skilled partner to play with, after being so long in silence, unable to pull any joy from playing. A twinge of guilt passed through me, just then, my smile falling. Should I really be letting myself feel this way?

The sharp snap of his fingers brought me back to reality and my eyes shot open. A book of sheet music appeared on the rack in front of us. I raised my eyebrow.

“I promised you only one song, Ascian.”

“Oh, do humor me a while longer, hero. It has been entirely too long since I’ve been able to enjoy myself.”

“Hmm,” I hummed, looking over the music he’d summoned. “I… suppose.”

And so we played, his song- soft and slow. Melancholic. My heart ached, for some reason, the longer it went on. He sighed as we made our way through the notes.

“You play so beautifully,” he admitted, removing his hands from the board to listen to me play alone. “Your soul shines so brightly when you let the music carry you away, like a jewel in the sunlight. But why is it, hero, that I find your songs tinged with a sort of sadness?”

I looked up at him, my fingers slowing to a stop. His eyes were soft and sad as he watched me. My lips parted with a small, sharp intake of breath, surprised at how gently he was looking at me- looking through me. I vaguely wondered if he knew how I felt- if he saw something of himself in me. He loved to simply watch. How long, exactly, had he been watching me? Were we...kindred spirits, in a sense?

Something shifted between us in that moment as we locked eyes, unmoving on the bench.

“It’s all written on your face, my dear,” he said, answering my unasked question.

I turned my back on him, biting my lip.

“I don’t…”

“Could it be you find it hard to enjoy yourself when you should, instead, be off playing hero, Warrior of Light? That you aren’t allowed even a small kernel of happiness?”

He leaned into me, getting closer to me than he already was. I felt the warmth of his chest against my back, but a chill ran up my spine as he drew his nose along the shell of my ear.

“Save the world once and they expect you to save it again and again…”

I closed my eyes, refusing to face him. I had no answer for him, no fight in which to tell him he was wrong.

“Oh, my poor Warrior,” he cooed when I stayed silent. “No time to yourself, hm? No time for yourself...”

He pressed his cheek against the side of my head. I felt his chest rumble as he spoke. My stomach twisted and I learned further into him without thinking. He was intoxicating, and he was right.

“Look at those vultures,” he started again. I felt his head nod towards the window in front of us. I opened my eyes, surveying the outside. The people of the Crystarium bustled about. The Ascian wrapped his arms loosely around my waist, laying his hands flat against my stomach. “They’ve honed in on you, picking you clean until there’s naught left but a husk of the person you used to be…”

His hands slid down to my hips and dragged his lips down the length of my neck, stopping to lay a small, reverent kiss on my shoulder. A small whimper escaped my lips and he huffed a laugh, breath warm against my skin.

“Don’t forsake your own happiness for the sake of others, my hero.” My heart pounded in my ears at the feel of him against me.

Slowly, I turned to face him. A soft smile had spread across his lips. He lifted one hand to my cheek and I closed my eyes, reveling in the sensation. He pressed his forehead against mine.

“Fall into me,” he breathed. “My little songbird.”

At his behest, I let myself go. I lifted my chin so my lips met his. He met me with a fervor I wasn’t expecting, but was willingly taken.

With a snap of his fingers, soft music filtered into the room as the piano played itself, low and sweet. He wrapped his arms around me, tightly, deepening the kiss.

My fall was much easier, much softer than I’d expected. It felt like an amazing place in which I could stay...forever.

#Emet-Selch #emetselch #emet selch #emet selch x warrior of light #emet-selch x warrior of light #warrior of light #warrior of darkness #Final Fantasy XIV #Final Fantasy 14 #final fantasy 14 fanfiction #final fantasy xiv fanfiction #FFXIV #ffxiv fanfiction

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kingedmundsroyalmurder · 6 years

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Fantine arrived in Hadestown wild and cynical, already broken down enough by life up Top that she accepted the worst Hadestown had to offer with a bitter laugh that emphasized her missing teeth, as if to say, ‘this is no worse than what I had to endure up there.’ What that might have been, no one knew. Hadestown was not a place with time for solidarity, not this place where everyone already carried the burden of their own regrets. Fantine was shown the work, taught to swing a pickaxe in the mine and to shovel coal into the furnace, and left alone.

Eurydice took no more notice of her than she did any other new arrival: a flash of pity for the mistake they had made, a surge of jealousy at the smell of sunshine lingering in their hair, and nothing more. She had her own work to do, her own sorrow to nurse, had Hades to hate and Persephone to desire. And Fantine was easy to ignore. She kept to herself from the start, turned away from newcomers and old hands alike, worked like she had something to forget.

Time passed. Persephone left for the summer and Hadestown got just a little colder without her, the factory floor just a little sharper as its workers missed their lady and her moonshine. Eurydice moved from the furnace to the wall, stacking bricks to the sky that she would never see again, working in unison with all the other lost souls who’d once thought Hadestown the answer to their problems. Fantine worked the mines, her pickaxe not quite in time with the others yet, her shorn hair blackened with coal-dust. The two women passed each other on occasion, during their breaks, as Eurydice joined the crowd eager to sneak some of Persephone’s leftover wine. Fantine watched them from a distance, ignored and indifferent to it. No one offered her a sip, even when one of the eager workers managed to grab the bottle without someone else slapping it from their hands. Nothing was free in Hadestown, not even the stolen fruit of the vine that stained their lips purple and left them craving it more than they had when they began. If Fantine wanted some, she would have to fight for it just like the others.

Fall returned, and with it Persephone, trailing the wind behind her, a sunbeam still caught in her smile. She laughed as the workers surged towards her, her hair letting off waves of rainfall and autumn leaves as she tossed her head back. Eurydice pressed forward with the rest, fighting for a spot near the front of the crowd, where the sunbeam in Persephone’s smile might cast just a hint of light on her ashen face.

“Single file now, you know the drill,” Persephone called out, still laughing. She had yet to remove her traveling cloak or unpack her barrels of contraband, but the proximity to the Top was too strong to resist. While Hades watched new hires sign away their souls in his mahogany and leather office, Persephone took a coin from each of his workers and gave them a taste of the summer.

“Who is she?”

Eurydice jumped, startled. It had been days, weeks since anyone had spoken to her during work hours, not since the last time the foreman sent her to a new workstation. She was making bricks again, mixing the mud until her palms were raw from sand and every part of her was covered in a red dust that would not come loose until she was moved to the mines, to replace it with coal.

“Who?” Her voice came out rough, more a croak than a word. She cleared her throat, coughed out some of the clay in her lungs, and tried again. “Who is who?”

“Her. The lady.”

Finally, Eurydice turned to look at the speaker. It was Fantine, standing a little ways away, her hands gripping her pickaxe so tightly her bones seemed to show through. Her face was streaked with dust, but her eyes shone brightly with a light Eurydice had never seen in her before.

“That’s Persephone. She’s the boss’ wife, not that he deserves her.”

“And she goes Up? To the outside world?”

“Yeah, every year.” Eurydice turned back to her work, waiting for a follow up question, but it never came. When she finally looked around, all she saw was Fantine’s back as the other woman went back to her work.

The next time Persephone offered her bottle around, Fantine was in the crowd with the others.

Eurydice heard about the bargain through the whispers of the workers. Tongues flowed more freely in the winter, loosened by Persephone’s wine and warmed by her presence. Gossip traveled to those who cared to hear it, passed around under the hammering of the mines and the screaming of the furnace. “The new girl,” the gossip said, “she sends her wages up Top. Made a deal with the boss. Doesn’t even keep enough for herself to buy a spot by the fire.”

Even among the jaded workers of Hadestown, this news was enough to spark interest. Interest, and envy. The slenderest of ties to the Top set someone apart, in this place where one more taste of the sky was the only thing anyone longed for. Orpheus’ failed rescue had made a pariah of Eurydice for years; even now there were some, old hands without a trace of color left in their bodies, who avoided her eye and spat on her shadow. To have haggled with the boss, to have won a concession from him, these were things of note. Once ignored, Fantine how had eyes tracking her every move. She seemed not to notice.

Eurydice watched her on occasion, but she had nothing but a brief moment of pity to spare. Fantine would find it hard going here, she who still had not quite mastered the rhythm of the work, who now had whispers following her and women with cold eyes asking cruel questions about the man she’d left behind. “There is no man,” Fantine said, and refused to answer any more questions. She set her back to her work and tried to keep up and acted like she didn’t hear the snickers of the workers around her when she missed a swing.

Spring came again, and with it the cold ache that was Persephone’s absence. Eurydice hunched her shoulders against the sudden void, kept her head down and spoke to no one. The gossip dried up, as tongues became too thirsty to talk and as the boss drove them harder than ever to make up for their idleness of winter. The whispers around Fantine fell away, replaced with cold silence that cut to the bone.

The foreman sent Eurydice to the mine, to take her turn in the stifling air of the tunnels, choking on coal dust and aching from walking hunched to fit through the narrow openings. Fantine had yet to be moved somewhere new, stuck there until she mastered the work, punished for her ineptitude and for her audacity. Eurydice stepped into the space beside her.

“You’re holding it wrong,” she whispered, watching Fantine work out of the corner of her eye. “Here, do it like this.”

Fantine started, missed her swing even more than she would have anyway, and didn’t react as the foreman swore at her for it. Eurydice demonstrated again, her own swings in perfect time with the others, the result of years of backbreaking practice with no one to teach her the way.

When Fantine swung again, she hit her mark. For the first time Eurydice could remember, she saw the ghost of a smile on Fantine’s lips.

"It’s not a man.”

They were working together again, Fantine having at last mastered the mine with Eurydice’s whispered help and been sent to learn the furnace instead. Eurydice hated the furnace, with its blazing heat that seemed to tear through you worse than the icy wind on the wall, its unending roar and ceaseless hunger. There was no rest on the furnace, lest the flames start to falter from lack of fuel. An endless rhythm of shoveling, scooping coal from the giant pile and throwing it to the furnace’s maw, receiving only burning sparks and plumes of acrid smoke in return.

“What?” Eurydice said, or tried to say. She got a lungful of smoke instead, and her shovel faltered as she hacked it out again. The foreman’s curse barely even registered.

“Where I send the money. It’s not to a man.” Fantine was watching her, large eyes fixed on Eurydice as though she could will the other woman to understand. The fiery light of the furnace made their color impossible to determine.

“Where is it, then?” Eurydice asked, throat still raw from the burning smoke. The workers around them gave no indication of listening in, but Eurydice knew that every one of them, and the foreman to boot, was eagerly waiting for any scrap of information they could glean.

“It’s for my daughter,” Fantine said. “For my Cosette.”

As her daughter’s name passed her lips Fantine’s face was transformed, just for a moment, with a sudden burst of radiance, and Eurydice realized for the first time that Fantine must have been beautiful. The moment passed, and she was once more gaunt and tired, her face smudged with ash and her clothes smoldering slightly where a spark had not yet extinguished itself.

And Eurydice understood. Fantine said ‘Cosette’ the way Eurydice had once said ‘Orpheus,’ the way Persephone said ‘Summer.’ There were stories, in the winter when the wine and whiskey flowed, stories that said that anyone who still remembered what they had left behind might yet make it back up Top, might find the way. Eurydice had seen some try, seen some desperate fools with fading memories seize the last chance they thought they had at freedom, seen them scale the wall and vanish into the wastes. They all came back, dragged in by the Furies or the guard dog, bloody and broken, the light in their eyes extinguished for good.

But that was the thing about stories, about hope. No matter how many left and were dragged back, beaten and snarling, there were still some who tried, and more who believed, who clung to that part of them that was still human with all their heart and told no one of the secret hope in their breast.

Later, when they were on break at last, ears still ringing with the roar of the hungry furnace, Eurydice caught Fantine by the sleeve. She paid for both of them to sit by the fire, close enough to warm their hands and away from the blowing of its smoke. “Your daughter,” she said. “Tell me what she’s like.”

It was a quiet friendship, a cautious one, one that grew in the cracks in the armor of their respective hearts. They shared smiles when they chanced to work together, passed along whispered warnings when Hades was in a temper, little things that nevertheless seemed a thousand times brighter than the harsh glare of Hadestowns’ neon lights. Sometimes, Eurydice would pay double at the fire and they would both sit near its warmth.

Summer up Top drew to a close. The seasons in Hadestown never changed, not here where the sky was a thousand miles away. The bitter cold never ebbed, the artificial lights never dimmed. The only way to mark the passing of the seasons was to watch Hades, to learn to match his moods to the absence or closeness of his wife, to count the days till the return of winter by how hard the foreman drove them on. Eurydice was working the assembly line, tightening gears for machines she didn’t care to understand, and she felt it when Hades gave the order to pick up the pace. The conveyor belt stuttered once, twice, and then rolled on, faster than before, and Eurydice’s hands matched it. Around her, a dozen others did the same, and when the foreman wasn’t watching they glanced around at each other, each pair of eyes saying the same: “He’s getting impatient. She’s coming home.”

Come home she did, radiant and contrary, certain that he had miscounted the days and brought her back to the underworld early. There were mud stains on her gown and already wilting flowers braided into her hair. Every eye in Hadestown was fixed on her as she walked out of the train station, a thousand thousand souls desperate for the reminder of what they had lost. A hundred hands reached out to try and touch the fabric of her traveling cloak, to feel the thing that had so recently been exposed to the air up Top, and she twitched it aside before their fingers could reach. No welcoming kiss this year: the depression of winter had set in early, and Persephone jealously guarded all the summer she had managed to steal.

Every year before this, when Persephone had blown in like an angry gale, picking fights with Hades before even stepping out of the train, Eurydice had watched her with hungry eyes, bewitched by her anger, not daring to approach her uninvited and longing to see what might happen if she did. Persephone had taken her aside, when she was new, when she was young, when she thought she might still have a happy life, had given her advice and helped her escape. It was an old tie, one never acknowledged between them, one wrapped up in pain and the harshness of Hades’ justice. But Eurydice still watched her, longed for her, and sometimes Persephone’s eye lingered on Eurydice a moment too long, when Eurydice lined up with the rest.

This year, when Persephone stormed home, Eurydice bought an extra place by the fire and told Fantine, in halting, uncomfortable words, what had happened that day, so many years before. Fantine listened gravely, her eyes fixed somewhere just above Eurydice’s, and when Eurydice’s words finally dried up, she said fervently, scathingly, “Men.”

The response, so different than what she had been expecting, startled laughter out of Eurydice. She laughed until she was breathless from it, until the people around them had turned to stare, until Fantine had joined in almost despite herself. When at last she had to stop, her lungs complaining from the unexpected abuse, she felt lighter than she had in years, since signing her soul away to this place, since watching Orpheus lose his faith and doom her back to hell.

The lightness lasted through the next day at the factory, through the foreman’s curse and the cuts on her hands from the badly filed gears that healed as soon as they formed but still stung for hours, through the fight between Hades and Persephone that set the whole factory shaking and the conveyor belt to triple its speed. It lasted when Persephone blew into the factory hours later, her smile bright and brittle, to pass her bottles around as her husband roamed the world up Top to find more pliant souls than she to satisfy him. Eurydice fell into line with the others, a coin clutched in her hand, waiting her turn for just a taste of sunshine.

It lasted until Fantine found her that evening, looking wilder than Eurydice had ever seen her. She drew Eurydice away from the crowds, away from the fire to the darkest shadows of Hadestown, by the wall. Her eyes blazed through the darkness. “Those thieves,” she spat. “All that money I send them, every month, and they’re starving her. They said... every letter they wrote... they lied, and she eats with the dog...” Fantine’s words dissolved into an ugly, broken sob, of rage and heartbreak all in one. Eurydice watched helplessly as she wept. She had been too long underground to remember how to comfort someone, had been too long up Top to think that this was an easily comforted hurt.

Instead, when Fantine had exhausted her sobs, she said, “You’re sure?”

A glare and jerky nod. “I gave the Lady everything I had left, last spring. She promised she would tell me the truth.”

A promise from Persephone meant nearly as little as a promise from her husband, but neither would she lie so directly. Like her husband, Persephone manipulated with half truths, when it amused her to do so, but driving others to despair was not her amusement of choice. If Persephone had said Cosette was starving, it was likely to be true.

Eurydice absently licked dust from her lips as she caught them between her teeth in thought. Finally, bracing herself and reaching out to take Fantine by the hand, she said, “I think I remember the way up.”

They snuck away during the shift change, when they were least likely to be missed. Eurydice pressed all her savings into the suspicious palms of the wall builders as incentive to let them pass, to not report their disappearance for a few precious hours. She took Fantine’s hand and together they fled the harsh lights of the city, running for the shadows of the wastelands with all their strength. Eurydice jumped at every noise, convinced they had been betrayed and Hades had sent his guard dogs after them, but they reached the shadows without being stopped.

They stopped to catch their breaths, to take stock of what they had done, to marvel at their own daring and contemplate the task still ahead. Eurydice had walked this path only once, years ago, more focused on Orpheus’ back than the scenery. She closed her eyes, pushed past the pain, tried to recall the walk as clearly as she could. Follow the tracks, Hermes had said. Ignore the barriers and just follow the tracks. There was no contract this time, no stipulation that either of this do this alone. Eurydice took Fantine’s hand and together they started walking.

Eurydice could never have said how long they walked. They didn’t get tired, in this wasteland between worlds, didn’t get hungry or footsore. The pressure of fear weighed ever more heavily on both of their chests, insidious whispers in their minds promising failure, promising betrayal, suggesting that there was no such place as the Top at all, that they were doomed to wander the wastelands forever unless they turned back. Fantine ignored it all, put one foot before the other with a look of grim determination, more automaton than woman. Eurydice drew strength from Fantine and kept pace. They walked.

The first ray of sunlight burned Eurydice’s eyes so badly she screamed.

They had emerged in the first frost of autumn, emerged from the underworld with no plan or money, nothing save Fantine’s burning need to be with her child and Eurydice’s desire to help her friend. In leaving Hadestown, they had lost the security of work, of food, of the possibility of a place by the fire at night. In the dark and cold of Hadestown, these seemed small prices to pay for the taste of freedom. Here, bathed in a sunlight that burned rather than warmed, faced with a world they had both chosen, once, to leave behind, that price seemed suddenly higher.

Eurydice thought to mention this, thought to ask if Fantine had a plan, thought to confess that she didn’t, but Fantine beat her to it. She spoke, and the words coming out of her mouth were foreign, strange and unintelligible syllables spoken in a familiar voice. Fantine spoke again, turning to look back when Eurydice did not answer, and from the look on her face it was clear she realized the problem. Eurydice dug her ragged nails into her palms, feeling the wild terror of helpless despair well up inside of her. They had come all this way, had defied Hades and broken their contracts, all for it to fall apart in an instant.

And then Fantine laughed. The sound jolted Eurydice out of her growing despair and she stared, wide-eyed, as Fantine threw back her head and laughed. The hole left by her missing teeth stood out starkly in the autumn sun but she seemed not to notice. She laughed wildly, reaching out to grab Eurydice’s hands in hers, and despite herself, despite everything, Eurydice joined in. They laughed at the absurdity of the situation, at the idea that this setback hadn’t occurred to either one of them, even for a moment, laughed because the only alternative was to scream.

At last the laughter subsided, both women out of breath and emptied of their emotions. Slowly, the sound died away, replaced once more by the quiet chirping of the birds nearby and the distant rush of traffic, and Fantine and Eurydice looked at each other. In the light of the sun, so different from the harsh neons of Hadestown, Fantine’s face was softer, its gauntness less pronounced, the brightness of her eyes easier to see. The walk had rubbed off some of the dust from her hair, and Eurydice could finally make out its color, its gold brighter than any metal the mines had to offer.

They walked. They taught each other words, their tongues tripping over foreign syllables as they haltingly echoed tree, leaf, sun, wind in each other’s half forgotten tongue. They couldn’t say each other’s names, Fantine’s coming out of Eurydice’s mouth with too many syllables and Eurydice’s coming out of Fantine’s with too few. Theirs had never been a friendship of conversation, and its lack was easy to bear.

Harder were the privations of the flesh, as both women’s bodies remembered what it was like to be hungry, to shiver in a cold that could do more than just penetrate the soul, a cold that could kill. They foraged for what they could, aware that they wouldn’t last long without help, unable to do anything except keep walking and hope to find a road. Eurydice shivered her way through the nights, too hungry to sleep well, the light from the moon harsh in her eyes, and she cursed herself for her foolishness. Orpheus hadn’t been lesson enough, it seemed. She had let him lead her to ruin, and now she had let Fantine do the same.

Yet when the morning sun came to burn her eyes, when Fantine sat up from her own sleepless night, Eurydice would force her body up after her, and they would walk on.

The farmhouse was on its own, its back to the forest from which the two emerged, facing a road more path than highway. Fantine and Euydice exchanged glances, a silent communication learned in the blistering heat of Hades' forge and honed in the burning sunlight of the Top. What if nothing comes of it? their eyes asked. What if we are left to freeze just like we were before? And then, We have to try.

Fantine went first, her only asset the words that were slowly returning to her tongue. Eurydice followed half a step behind, her ragged nails biting into her palms. When they reached the door and knocked, the woman who answered it nearly screamed.

Later, Eurydice would never quite piece together how it happened, how Fantine's torrent of pleading, unintelligible words and the farmer woman's fearful, short responses ended in a barn for the two women to sleep in and a crust of bread for them to eat. She watched the interplay of expressions as the conversation washed over her, watched Fantine's large eyes and the wary set of the farmer woman's eyebrows, saw Fantine's shoulder start to slump even as the farmer woman's were beginning to relax, saw the slow, almost unwilling creep of compassion into the farmer woman's face as Fantine explained their story as best she was able. Left without the substance of their words, Eurydice could only see how their faces changed and each woman's tone of voice modulated in response to the other's, a cacophonous duet that at last resolved into a cautious harmony of mutual communication. Eurydice could only smile her thanks, as the farmer woman led them to the drafty barn and avoided looking them in the eye.

It was cold in the barn, the walls doing little to cut the sting of the wind, but they pressed together and ate their food, stretching the warmth of the farmer woman's kindness as far as it would go and then a little more. In the dust of the barn floor Fantine sketched out a crude map, a handful of lines and an X showing where she thought they were. From the farmer woman, she had apparently learned the name of the nearest town, a name she did not recognize, and the distance to Paris, a name she did.

“From Paris,” Fantine said in words Eurydice was slowly growing to understand, “from Paris I know the way.” She drew another line in the dust, a confident, longing stroke of her finger, and at its end she drew a shaky heart. “Cosette,” Fantine said, as though Eurydice needed the confirmation.

“Cosette,” Eurydice echoed, and they looked at the lines drawn in the dust. Somehow, as they looked down, Eurydice's hand found Fantine's, and when they curled up to sleep they did not let go.

In the morning, the farmer woman came into the barn before they could leave. Eurydice braced herself, expecting harsh words or early morning regret for impulsive charity, but instead she held out a loaf of bread. From the way it steamed in the frigid air, it could only have just come from the oven.

Neither Fantine nor Eurydice moved to take it. Neither was accustomed to charity, to kindness, to gifts without contracts attached. The farmer woman frowned, spoke, offered the bread again.

“She says,” Fantine said, speaking slowly so that Eurydice could puzzle out the meaning behind the words. “It will snow today. We can stay here until it stops.”

The woman nodded and spoke again.

“She wishes she could offer more,” Fantine said, before turning to the woman and, in words Eurydice could half make out, thanking her for her kindness. She took the bread, rapidly cooling now that it had met with the winter, and the farmer woman smiled. Eurydice, half surprising herself, smiled back.

It started to snow around mid-morning, a few flurries turning rapidly into a storm that sent icy wind and snowflakes through the cracks in the wood. Fantine and Eurydice huddled in one of the empty stalls, pressed against each other and shivering. Even Hadestown, Eurydice thought, had not been so cold as this.

She shook her head as soon as the thought entered her mind, banishing it lest it attract the wrong kind of attention. There were stories, down below, that the boss could sense when mortals were most vulnerable, that he could read despair on the breath of hungry souls. Stories, mostly, legends told to excuse choices made in moments of weakness, excuses even, coming from some. Eurydice had never truly believed it. But here, on the run from that very man, shivering and hungry despite the bread in her belly and the roof over her head, Eurydice did not dare put that lack of belief to the test.

By sundown, Eurydice had begun losing the strength to shiver. Fantine, the skinnier of the two, had stopped shivering earlier, and she now sat huddled in on herself, whispering her daughter's name like a prayer. Earlier, Eurydice had made her talk about Cosette, to distract them both and remind them of why they had come, but Fantine had long since fallen silent and Eurydice no longer had the strength to urge her on. They were, Eurydice realized, going to die here.

Even as she let herself voice that thought, in her own tongue so as not to alarm Fantine, the barn door opened. A blast of wind came rushing in and Eurydice flinched, gasping a little at the cold.

The farmer woman closed the door behind her, hurrying forwards amid the snow she had let in. Eurydice blinked, too stupid from cold and worry to understand she was doing. She nudged Fantine, but Fantine barely moved. Her skin, when Eurydice went to shake her awake, was cold to the touch.

The farmer woman squatted down before them, speaking far too rapidly for Eurydice to hope to understand. All she could do was shake her head until the woman trailed off. The woman frowned, cast an expectant eye towards Fantine, and frowned further. Turning back to Eurydice she spoke again, slowly this time, as though to a child. “Too cold here. Come inside.”

Eurydice hesitated. The farmer woman, mistaking calculation for unwillingness, held out a hand. “Come,” she said.

On her own, with no one but herself to care for, Eurydice might have hesitated further, might have taken her chances with the cold over testing the fickle kindness of her fellow men. But Fantine was freezing to death beside her, and the farmer woman was looking at them with wide, concerned eyes. Slowly, Eurydice nodded. “Thank you,” she said, in her broken, accented approximation of Fantine's tongue, and the farmer's wife beamed.

It took both of them to get Fantine inside, and Eurydice thought her strength might give out before they got there. When at last they reached the house and the farmer woman opened the door, Eurydice nearly collapsed from the sudden wave of heat.

Somehow the farmer woman got them both inside and by the fire. Another half loaf of bread appeared, and Eurydice pressed it into Fantine's still cold hand. Fantine didn't take it, her fingers not thawed enough to grasp and her mind too far gone to fight. Eurydice, between the violent shivers that had begun to return, wrapped her arms around Fantine's bony shoulders and tried to will the life back into her.

“Please,” Eurydice whispered, in her language and in Fantine's. “I can't lose you too.” When the farmer woman turned away to pull the quilt from her bed, Eurydice pressed a kiss to Fantine's icy cheek. “Please,” she said again, and could not have said if she was pleading with Fantine or with the God of Death.

The farmer woman returned with the quilt, wrapping it tightly around both of them, talking briskly in her language. The words fell like raindrops around Eurydice, too rapid to be intelligible even if Eurydice had been in a state to try. The farmer's wife seemed not to mind.

At some point, despite her worry, or perhaps because of it, Eurydice drifted off to sleep. When she woke, with a start of panic, the fire had turned to a bed of embers that gave off more heat than light, and Fantine's hands were warm to the touch.

The storm lasted another two days. The farmer woman -- Jeanne, they learned -- refused to let them leave, and so in return Eurydice and Fantine made themselves as useful to her as they could. Fantine coaxed her fingers back into needlework, and Eurydice, never having been adept at that art, took up other chores, accomplishing the tasks that Jeanne, a widow of six months, did not have the strength to complete herself. In the evening, the three sat by the fire, sharing bread and wine and stories. Eurydice, unable to offer the latter, instead reached into long ignored memories and brought out some of Orpheus' songs, and only cried a little when she heard how her own voice couldn't do them justice. At night, she and Fantine curled up by the remains of the fire, pressed together for warmth and intertwined for comfort.

When at last the weather cleared, Jeanne gave them her husband's old coat and a bundle of food, enough to last a few days if they were careful. They thanked Jeanne yet again, Fantine with earnest fluency and Eurydice trying her best with words that would not cooperate on her tongue, and took their leave.

They walked. The storm had cleared out the bitterest of the cold, leaving the world grey and sparkling but slightly warmer, just enough to not freeze in the weak sunlight that pierced the cloud cover. The nights, though, brought the cold back with a vengeance, a damp cold that seeped through the coat they shared and thrust tendrils of ice deep into their bones. Despite the cold, they shied away from the houses dotting the road, all too aware of the figure they cut, two women alone, ragged and desperate and alone. Jeanne had been kind, but who was to say that luck would hold. They did not dare test it. Still, after two nights on the road, huddling under trees to try and break the wind, rationing Jeanne's provisions as strictly as they could bear, Fantine's breaths had begun to rattle in her chest and Eurydice felt faint every time she stood and they both knew they could not continue like this much longer.

The first farmhouse they knocked on slammed the door in their face before Fantine could so much as get out a word, but the second housed a tired young woman with three children clinging to her, all fighting to get out the door as she struggled to keep them inside. The biggest of the three, knees already knobby and cheeks red from even this brief exposure to the cold, escaped her grasp and darted for the snow. Fantine caught him as he went, scooping him up in arms stronger than they looked and laughingly scolding him for his mischief before passing him back to his mother. This earned Fantine and Eurydice a place inside the house and a bowl of soup to share -- a scarcity of dishes as much as of food -- and their story, of two women seeking work in Paris after the death of their fathers, earned them an invitation to stay the night. An old woman looked suspiciously out at them from under a pile of ragged blankets in the corner, but the young woman spoke quietly to her and she subsided.

"Her mother," Fantine murmured to Eurydice, having caught a snatch of the conversation. Eurydice nodded, and was distracted by a tug on her sleeve. The biggest of the girls, a toddling thing of no more than three, looked up at her with wide, curious eyes and lisped a question Eurydice could not hope to decipher.

Fantine, though, smiled at the girl and pulled her onto her lap, leaning in as though sharing a secret as she answered the girl's question. Soon, this attracted the attention of the smaller girl, barely walking at all, and Fantine beckoned her over, raising her voice a little so both girls could hear. From her tone, Eurydice thought she was telling them a fairy tale, or perhaps inventing one as she went. Even the boy, still sulking from his thwarted escape attempt, crept over, trying his hardest to look as though he wasn't listening as intently as his sisters.

Fantine finished her story and, spurred on by the wide eyes of the younger girl and the eager pleas of the elder, started another, but Eurydice could hear her voice starting to give, could see the glint of unshed tears beginning to well up in her eyes. She cleared her throat, attracting the attention of both her friend and the girls, and began to sing.

In the morning, as they made to leave, the mother caught Fantine by the sleeve. She had a sister, in the next village down, a kind woman with children of her own. If they knocked there, she promised, they would be well received. Fantine and Eurydice glanced at each other, both too experienced in the cruelties of men and women alike to trust this kindness, both too afraid of the winter winds to turn it down. Finally, Fantine pressed her hand in thanks and promised that they would ask. She kissed each of the children and, as the door closed behind them, hastily wiped away her tears before the winter could freeze them to her cheek.

They spent a night here, two nights there, knocked at doors until they found souls kind enough to offer shelter, huddled together under trees when they found none at all. They stayed in one farmhouse for a whole week while Eurydice burned with fever, and in another for nearly as long until Fantine's sickness had faded to nothing but a persistent cough she refused to wait out. They fought about it, Eurydice terrified of the ravages of the weather on their bodies and Fantine growing more heartbroken with every mile they closed between her and Cosette, argued in rough whispers to avoid waking the family that had so generously offered them a place by the fire. For the first time in weeks they slept with their backs to each other.

Word traveled fast, faster than two exhausted women could ever hope to, and as they got closer to Paris more and more doors opened to them, cousins and sisters and friends of those who'd already given them a roof for the night. They played with children and helped where they could, took messages and gifts from one village to the next, paid their way with deeds since they had no money to offer. Some houses, home to richer families or just more generous hearts, pressed coins into their hands as they left. Others gave them food, what little the family had to spare, or clothes when their own could stand no more of the wind. Some could only offer prayers to their God to keep them safe.

The closer they got to Montfermeil the more Fantine talked, about Cosette, about what she would do to the inkeepers who had treated her so badly, about how they would get a room in Paris together where no one would talk and live until they had saved enough to move back to the country where Cosette could play outside all summer long. Eurydice let her talk, held her hand when no one else was looking, stayed silent. She thought of the lengths someone had once gone to to save her from a Hell of her own choosing and promised herself that Cosette would have a happier ending.

Paris was a crush of noise and people, louder even than Hadestown and its ever-present din of machinery, filled with shouting people and screaming animals. Children, ragged and cheerful, scampered endlessly underfoot, while tradesmen offered their services at top volume and well-bred women picked their way through the mud, escorted by equally well-bred men, and pretended not to notice the chaos around them. Eurydice shrank back from the press of bodies and even Fantine, who had lived in Paris not so many years before, seemed wide-eyed and lost. Unconsciously, their hands found each other.

They found a place at an inn, paying all the coin they had managed to save up over the course of their journey for a tiny, filthy room barely less drafty than an alley. It left them nothing with which to buy food, but they had long since grown accustomed to hunger.

"It's not far now," Fantine said. Her voice was hoarse from wind and hunger and the cough that had not quite left her chest, but her eyes shone brighter than they had in weeks. "Less than three days, and that's if we stop on the way."

"And after that?" Eurydice wanted to know. Weeks of exposure had given her more confidence in the language, had trained her ear to pick out words and make sense of sentences, but her tongue had yet to follow suit. The words came out ugly and hesitant, and when she could she stayed quiet, let Fantine do the talking and let their hosts think she was simple.

"We can find work," Fantine said, as she had every other time Eurydice had asked this question. "I can teach you to sew, and we'll make shirts and take in mending. And then we can take our work outside in the summer, and earn our way in the sun."

Eurydice nodded, swallowed her objections, told herself that they had come too far to turn back now. She let Fantine talk until her chest was exhausted and the words had turned to coughs, then pulled her close and kissed her silent.

They left Paris at daybreak the next morning, crossing paths with the wave of tradesmen and laborers coming into the city to start their work day. Fantine was subdued, her excitement of the night before faded by the reminder of the last time she had taken this path. The ragged children of the streets scampered around them, hollering to each other as they began their days, ignoring Fantine and Eurydice completely. One, a tattered girl of no more than eight, with a heavily patched skirt that still barely covered her legs and a head of dirty brown hair that fell into her eyes as she ran, made Fantine start and gasp. She dashed away the tears always welled in her eyes these days, just on the brink of falling, and put her head down, placed one foot in front of the other on the road out of Paris and pretended that it required her full attention. Eurydice walked by her side, watched as the late winter dawn played over mother and children alike, tried not too ask questions, even to herself, that she did not want answered.

The inn in Montfermeil was loud and crowded, filled with travelers and tradesman come in from the cold for a drink and a song. Fantine and Eurydice slipped in as a gust of wind blew through the door, their chapped faces and battered clothes standing out even among the rough crowd already assembled. The inkeeper's wife looked them over, her eyes cold and bright with suspicion, and she started toward them, parting the patrons in her path like a steamship. Eurydice had a dozen stories on the tip of her tongue, half translated into the language she still only partially spoke, when Fantine let out a cry and ran, darting past the advancing woman toward back of the dining room. It took Eurydice a moment to drag her eyes from the inkeeper's wife, her advance paused in surprise as she and the rest of the inn looked to see what had caused so much distress and movement, and a moment more to realize that the creature Fantine now held tight in her arms was a child, stiff and dirty and terrified. The inkeeper's wife too realized the source of Fantine's distress, and immediately changed course, charging towards mother and child with a fury that would have sent nearly anyone diving for cover.

But Fantine had defied the Lord of the Dead to reach this place, had survived the journey through hell below and the winter above, had given everything she had and more that she didn't, and she met the inkeeper's wife head on, arms still wrapped protectively around the child, who was now shaking with terror and confusion. Eurydice edged slowly forward through the crowd.

"What is the meaning of this?" the inkeeper's wife demanded. "You, get back to work immediately!" This last was addressed to the child, who quailed more than ever and tried to wriggle out of Fantine's arms. But Fantine's grip had been strengthened by months in the mines, her arms toughened by weeks building the wall, and the child could not escape.

"I am Cosette's mother," Fantine declared, and at these words the child stopped struggling and stared at her, shock plain to see on her thin little face. "I have come to take her home with me."

Fantine's words caused yet another commotion among the guests, all of whom began exclaiming at once. Eurydice, still not quite re-accustomed to the noise of the Top, worked hard not to flinch. In the chaos, the inkeeper sidled up to stand by his wife, who immediately stepped back, ceding him the floor and glaring at Fantine with all the strength of her fury. Eurydice's eyes narrowed, as she looked the inkeeper up and down.

"Mother, are you?" he asked, and his every word seemed coated in oil, greasy and bitter and vile. "If that is so -- and don't think I trust your word alone on that -- then you owe us a considerable debt for our troubles. 12 francs a month we asked you, an entirely reasonable request in this economy, to provide for a child of that age, we who have daughters of our own to raise." He seemed to be talking to the audience more than to Fantine, an audience already disposed to siding with his grease than with her desperation.

"You asked 15," Fantine snapped, not to be intimidated. "And you promised she was being treated like your own child."

At this pronouncement the child -- Cosette -- let out a bark of bitter laughter. She instantly turned ghostly pale, hunching down as much as she could within Fantine's grip as though expecting a blow. From the way the inkeeper's wife's face twisted into a sneer of hatred, Eurydice thought she was not wrong to fear one.

If Fantine saw this she did not react, too focused on her hatred for the inkeeper himself. He too was laughing, a twisted mockery of true mirth, inviting the watching crowd to join him in tearing Fantine's dreams to pieces. "With what you sent us, you're lucky we didn't turn her out on the street," he said, and one of the watching tradesmen let out a call of agreement. One by one the others took up the cry, until Fantine was pelted on all sides by accusations that struck like stones and jeering suggestions of how to pay her debts. She shrank back, fighting tears, but did not back down. Eurydice, meanwhile, felt despair rising in her, a helplessness nearly as all consuming as the one she'd felt right after Orpheus lost his faith and doomed her to Hell forever. They could not win here, not when the inkeeper already had the town on his side and the inkeeper's wife looked ready to beat both mother and child and leave them to die in the cold.

But Eurydice had sworn, that day so long ago when she told Fantine she knew the way out, had sworn that she would not repeat the failures of her past, that she would stay this time, would make up for both Orpheus' failures and her own, and so she stepped out of the crowd and into the space next to Fantine.

"And who are you?" the inkeeper demanded, sneering and dismissive already.

"What's it to you?" Fantine demanded, just as Eurydice said, "Her sister."

The inkeeper raked his eyes over the two of them, taking in Eurydice's dark skin, ashen now, from so long without sunlight, and Fantine's shorn blond hair, the way Fantine's words flew easily from her lips and Eurydice's sank like stones, awkward and misshapen. He leered, his expression clearly conveying the accusation he did not need to say out loud.

"A debt's a debt," he said, the leer still twisting his face. "If you can pay what you owe, you can take the girl. If not..." He shrugged. "Well. I'm sure you can find a way to pay."

"And we're full for the night," his wife interjected. "Find somewhere else to sleep."

Fantine looked around, took in the faces of the crowd, sought a friendly face where there were none, looked at Cosette still trembling in her arms. Eurydice touched her arm. Theirs had started as a friendship without words, back when they were just two more lost souls lost in a sea of them, a friendship of gestures and sidelong glances, of stolen smiles and silent solidarity. Eurydice drew on this now, met Fantine's eyes and said Trust me.

Fantine jerked a nod, barely perceptible to the watching crowd. Eurydice glanced at the inkeeper, then at Fantine, gestured slightly. Distract him? Fantine took a breath, drew strength from her lover and her child, began to argue once again. Taking advantage of the moment, Eurydice bent down and touched the child, who started as though she'd been struck. Fantine swallowed a soft cry of distress as she talked. "Tomorrow," Eurydice told Cosette in an undertone, her words still halting but filled with all the gentleness she could muster. "Can you find a way outside?"

Cosette nodded mutely. She seemed not to know where to look and so kept her eyes on the ground, her shoulders hunched in as far as Fantine's grip would let them go.

"Bring anything you want to keep," Eurydice said. "And we'll take you away from here."

Cosette didn't respond. Eurydice waited a beat, just in case, then straightened. When Fantine paused for breath she interjected, "We should go."

"Too right you should go," the inkeeper said. "And don't even think of coming back here, or I'll have you arrested."

Fantine made to argue yet again, but Eurydice squeezed her hand. Trust me , her body language said, and Fantine did. The argument died in her throat and she slumped, the strength seeming to leave her completely. She clung to Cosette a moment longer, kissed her head and smoothed her dirty hair away from her face, then let go. The moment she was released from Fantine's grip Cosette practically dove under the table, picked up a pair of knitting needles attached to a tangle of yarn and began almost frantically working at it, shooting terrified glances towards the inkeeper's wife as she did so. Eurydice and Fantine made their way out through the laughing crowd, let themselves be mocked and reached for. As they stepped through the door into the wind, Eurydice glanced back, and her eyes met Cosette's as the child watched them go, her eyes wide with confusion and the slightest glimmer of hope.

Fantine wept that night, as they huddled together under the blanket a kind family had given them. "She didn't even know me," she repeated, her words incoherent and aching. Eurydice held her, ran her hands through Fantine's jagged hair, whispered in her own language, "She will." When at last Fantine drifted into troubled, exhausted sleep, Eurydice stayed awake, eyes on the stars glimmering above.

Cosette did not come until past noon, when the sun had already passed its zenith and begun returning to the underworld. She walked slowly, gripping a bucket as large as she was with white-knuckled hands, glancing back furtively with every few steps. When she caught sight of Fantine and Eurydice she stopped. Fantine half ran to close the distance, and Cosette stayed still, watching with wide eyes. When Fantine once more swept her up into her arms, Cosette asked, “Are you really my mother?”

“Yes,” Fantine said. “And I’m so sorry.”

“Have you really come to take me away?”

“Yes .” It was spoken fervently, like a promise, like a prayer and finally, finally Cosette smiled.

“I’m glad,” she said, and she set down her bucket and returned her mother’s embrace.

As the three headed away from Montfermeil, Cosette walking between the two women, the wind carried a trace of a sound toward them, a sound that Eurydice would have thought she'd only imagined if it had not been so familiar to her, the sound of a train whistling its way towards the earth. Fantine and Eurydice exchanged glances, smiles tucked into the corner of each of their mouths. Spring, it seemed, had come at last.

#hadestown #eurydice #les miserables #fantine #cosette #fixit #for those who prefer to read on tumblr #and with my apologies to those on mobile #achievement unlocked: completed piece of fiction

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