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franki-lew-yo · 4 years ago

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The Romantic (2009, R, Gothic Fantasy/Horror), aka the most forgotten animated film in the world

What if I told you there was a movie under serious threat of becoming lost media with no clear reason as to WHY it's been lost other than no one has apparently watched it besides me and a few people on Reddit? What if I told you that movie wasn't half bad and would no doubt have some interest peeked if anyone DID know about it?

The name of that movie is The Romantic.

It was released in 2009 and it's Rated R for nudity and sex scenes [insert Robbie Rotten meme here], though none of it too graphic. It was a pet project created by animator Michael P. Heneghan, originally starting as a flash project for his animation class before he expanded it into a feature film. The film was inspired by movies such as The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth, but what I see every time I look at it is a touch of Jhonen Vasquez, Tim Burton, and Roman Dirge- the guy behind Lenore the Cute Little Dead Girl. It's flash animation especially remind me of the puppet-rigged toons of the 2000s (again like Salad Fingers or Lenore). It's not bad, it's just not inherently 'feature film' quality flash, nor is it exceptionally artistic like Sita Sings the Blues in it's simplicity. Like, really, if you happen to find this thing it's not the worst animated project at all it's just amateur for a professional production. I've seen worse flash movies. Heck, if The Romantic were released in separate parts on youtube or Newgrounds as a series (ala Homestuck) I'm sure it would have been really successful and totally in it's element. But it wasn't.

Because next to no one has seen it and I'm lucky to have not only ever seen it when it was available for free but have also found it recently (hush hush, I ain't telling you how) I'm going to actually give you all a plot synopsis under the cut. There will be some details I leave out and I think I've spelled some characters names wrong. It's a bit of a surrealist film as well, so you might need some things explained.

Spoilers ahead:

The Romantic is set in an autumnal, surrealist world inhabited by humans and monsters and ruled by three gods; Po the goddess of love; Pik the god of Hate; and Pjorrc the god of time though Pjorrc was made to live inside a pumpkin moon as everything he touched rabidly aged and died.

((Tapestry art featuring the main three gods of the film.))

A young man (called “Romance” or “The Romantic” by the other characters) performs a bull sacrifice in order to summon Abbledepopa, the unseen creator of the other gods and ‘storyteller’ of the world. The sacrifice does not conjure Abbledepopa but, when Romance spares a monster that was ready to eat him, the monster tells him of a profit named Patience. Patience is a foul-mouthed dwarf living alone with an army of babies who points Romance in the direction of Po.

((Romance outside of Patience's house.))

Romance wants the god’s help because he has fallen out of love with his girlfriend. Po grants him his desire and restores his love only for Romance to return home and find his girlfriend with another man. Blinded by heartache and rage, Romance kills her. He then swears vengeance on the gods for ‘making’ him do it. In the midst of this vow, a corrupt prophet called Fat Daddy kills the queen of Vauxhaul (Romance's home) and her guards, and forges a new body for his newborn son with their bodies. Fat Daddy rallies the townsfolk behind him in supposedly finding the Queen’s murder into follow a new religion called "The Poetic End".

((Romance (right) besides the monster he spared at the beginning of the movie.))

Patience accompanies Romance on his quest and tells him to take Po’s mask, which hides her true face, once he kills her. Romance buys Po’s trust by weaving her a tapestry that tells her story: in the dawn of time Po and Pjorrc were in love. However, Pjorrc gradually became distant and Po became resentful when their daughter, Love, earned Po's original title as the god of romance and love.

In the present day, Romance sleeps with Po for over a year before finally killing her and taking her mask. He and Patience return to his home of Vauxhul only to be chased out by Fat Daddy’s personal army. They flee to Marshallton, the town nearest to the god Pik.

((Romance's hometown of Vauxhul. ))

The king of Marshallton, King Crookie, tells Romance of a prophecy he, Patience, Fat Daddy and all the gods are a part of and that the world is soon to change. Romance then fights and successfully kills Pik when he shows the god of hate his reflection in a mirror King Crookie gave him, but not before losing his hand to Pik.

When Romance comes down the mountain he learns from Patience that nine years have passed since his fight with Pik began. Patience reveals to Romance what Pik saw in the mirror that allowed Romance to take the killing blow; after Love had grown up and married, Po asked Pik to tell her where her husband was always running off to. Pik reluctantly revealed Pjorrc was disguising himself as a human and married a mortal woman. Po found Pjorrc and his pregnant second wife, forcing Pjorrc to leave his human family behind, but not before asking his wife to name their son “Patience”. In retaliation for his treachery, Po proceeded to sleep with fifty men and produce the fifty bastard children in Patience’s house.

((Fat Daddy, the main villain.))

Marshallton and the entire rest of the world has fallen to the rule of Fat Daddy, who captures Romance and Patience. Fat Daddy tortures Patience into telling him how to get to Pjorrc but is unable to convince Romance to take part in his ‘new world’ or give him Po’s mask. Romance and Patience escape and leave the village to be torn apart by the fifty babies Po had, now transformed into veracious monsters after Patience didn’t feed them for the past ten years. Romance confronts Patience when he realizes the latter is Pjorrc’s son. Patience calls Romance out on his mantra of vengeance and points out that all his decisions are his own, not the gods, and instructs him to seek Love herself in Po’s basement. Patience then attempts to confront Pjorrc but is cornered and killed by Fat Daddy before he can do so.

In Po’s basement, Romance finds Love nailed to a wall, her face torn off and half eaten by her deformed husband. Love tells Romance that Po ripped off her daughter’s face in rage over Pjorrc’s infidelity and Pjorrc did not intervene fast enough. Po then threw Love into her basement, turned Love’s husband into a monster, and wore her daughter’s face as a mask - which Romance had broken into pieces moments ago after Patience had shown him his face in King Crookie’s mirror. Romance then finds Pjorrc hanging himself. As he dies, Pjorrc tells Romance to take the hand Fat Daddy had cut off and sew it onto himself, which will in turn help Romance defeat Abbledepopa.

Romance traverses the wasteland and does not find Abbledepopa, but instead a golden loom. Having seen all the destruction he and others had caused, Romance sits upon the loom and accepts his fate as the new ‘storyteller’ of the world, as he begins weaving a new one...

---

I mentioned before the animation quality of the film and why maybe that caused people to overlook it. The only other thing I could complain about on a technical level with The Romantic is it's sound design. Some of the voices and music is a little too quiet and so all these key details I had to go through the film a few times to really piece together. But that leads me to the thing I like about this movie and I'm sure others would to: the lore.

It's very hard to create a new fantasy world w it's own customs, religions, history and rules out of the blue as any YA Harry Potter/Hunger Games ripoff book could tell you. The Romantic is so unique in how it handles the pantheon and culture of these three gods and their kin; really only four or five characters throughout the entire story aren't connected to the gods or prophecy in some way, as there's the main three gods, Abbeldepappa, and the prophets Patience, Love and Fat Daddy, who make up your main cast besides Romance. There's a lot that's intentionally left unexplained and other info that must be explained, like Pjorrc and Po's marriage and Romance's feelings towards the gods, if we want to understand the former. The movie is paced pretty well and knows when to follow up on what, it's just that again some of those animation and editting shortcomings might make it hard to understand...but I don't think THAT hard. Look, if someone can enjoy Starchaser: The Legend of Orin or even better surrealist world-building films ((Fantastic Planet comes to mind)), then I say there's no reason The Romantic wouldn't have a following. There's no other way I can articulate why and what doesn't work about the story except just to recommend you watch it yourselves, but before I get into that I want to talk themes...because I love the themes and tone of The Romantic.

I revisited The Romantic a week before I made myself watch Centaurworld and The Owl House for the first time...and what a week that was~! The Romantic has the vibe of those kinds of shows along with Adventure Time and Infinity Train ((so I hear, I haven't watched the latter)). It's surreal and you'll only marvel at 'woooah wut an acid trip' for so long before you get into the vibe of the universe. It also reminded me substantially of the Broadway musical Hadestown and not just because this movie is also a self-contained, somewhat self aware fable about the relationships between humans and gods - it's very raw in how the characters talk. It's very emotional and blunt in how kind and how cruel they can be, and it doesn't make excuses or really worships any one of them. Romance himself is the world's most likable Incel: he murders a woman he thought he needed to love and blames his emotions on the gods of those passions...except the gods AREN'T the manifestations of love, time, and hate - they simply dictate and oversee it in the lives of men. It's a dynamic I really like in religious works where Gods are powerful but not all knowing or puppet masters to everyone's design- they have morality too and there is only so much you can blame and get from them.

"You made your gods into excuses and your excuses into gods!"

-Patience. This here is a cool quote. I like this quote.

No matter what, The Romantic is not gonna be a film for everyone. We all have our tastes - I think I'm drawn to it and accepting because I've come to love these kind of worlds that used to keep me up at night - these trippy 70s inspired fantasy landscapes given a whole Avatar: The Last Airbender degree of worldbuilding and character worth. It also doesn't feel exploitive in it's violence, it's sexuality, it's grimmness - it doesn't feel like it's trying to hard or going over the top because it happens to be an adult animated film, something that I love in movies like 9 or Hair High but really turns me off in stuff like Sausage Party or Wizards. Whatever go watch The Romantic...

if you can.

-----

When I first saw this film in 2016 it was actually very accessible and was even uploaded to youtube by the creator himself. I don't know WHAT happened to Michael P. Heneghan, but simply put, the man's disappeared...like...REALLY disappeared.

Lookit his IMDB. He has The Romantic and a wapping two other projects to his name. His Twitter isn't very helpful either. He last updated in early 2020 and he says next to nothing about The Romantic. It's so odd that he would one day be happy with the film enough to host it on Vimeo and Youtube but then just cop out.

According to a Reddit user: "On Valentines Day 2011, Heneghan released the film for free online through all kinds of platforms including direct download, bittorrent, Vimeo, and even directly through Archive.org. He even joked about releasing a 300 gig uncompressed version.

I know I watched it on Vimeo probably as recently as 2016. Now I can't find it anywhere. The website is dead, the Vimeo video went private, even the archive.org version has been taken down. It really looks like he wanted to wipe it off the face of the internet. His newer website mentions it, but again, the Vimeo link is dead and even that website is closed for business."

It's weeeird. What happened Michael?

And yes, obviously, other people worked on the movie.

No - I can't find out anything about them either.

I'm betting on three theories at the moment: 1) this film is an SCP or some Candle Cove weirdness with only me and a handful of people ANYWHERE remembering it, 2) something weird is going on w Michael Heneghan and it involves too something about this film. It was a scam or a scheme or a hidden agenda weirdness, 3) Heneghan's doing okay he just doesn't like this film anymore and wants it hidden while he takes a break.

Look, I get it Michael! What was once our life's worth can become cringe as you improve as an artist - you're not the person making the stuff you were ten years ago...but you should still have the film kept alive somehow. Someway.

I'm seriously the only person to have ever made fan art of this movie on the internet. That just doesn't happen, and I don't think I like being in a fandom of one. The Romantic is a testament to the power of design and storytelling > animation quality itself. Too often I see people equate good animation with smooth animation, with a budget with squash and stretch. These animations are good but art is diverse and there's so many kinds of films out there, the value of the medium can't just be in one style/form. There's a lot of honestly wonderful pieces of art out there if you know where to look and you're willing to see where it leads you.

Don't let The Romantic be the most forgotten movie of all time. Reblog this post. Show it to your friends. PM the animation community reviewer people like Saberspark and someone who isn't Saberspark and smuggle them a copy.

Keep telling the story...

#Franki's Features #The Romantic #The Romantic Michael Heneghan #The Romantic 2009 #animation #animation community #underrated animation #lost media #horror animation

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atlafan · 4 years ago

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Part One - “Call me Jane.”

a/n: here’s part one of nanny!H, I’m very excited about this series. I’m not sure how many parts it’s going to be, so please don’t ask lmao. Once I know how many parts it’ll be, I’ll make a master post for it. I’m just too excited not at least share the first part because Harry is just too cute in this! Feedback and reblogs are super helpful, and keep me motivated, especially when it comes to writing series. (not proofread) You can support me here if you’re able!

Warnings: none...for now

Words: 4.1K

Pairing: Harry x OC (Jane Watson)

Master Post

Harry found himself in a real bind. He was twenty-six years old, had an early childhood education degree, and the daycare he worked at was going under. He had just been promoted a month prior too, how could things go wrong so quickly? Times like this he really hated that he stayed in the states. Childcare services weren’t nearly as fucked up back home. His dream was to save up enough money to open up his own pre-school at some point, but it was really tough.

There was this weird stigma that if adult men wanted to work with babies and toddlers then that made them a pedophile or something of the sort. That wasn’t the case with Harry. His minor in school was psychology because cognitive development intrigued him. He also loved babies and little ones. He loved watching them learn and discover.

Only now, he was without a job in an already struggling field. He and the other employees weren’t exactly given a big notice before they were told the business was going under. Harry mostly felt bad for the parents of the kids that had to find new child care centers. He knew he’d have to compete with his co-workers for any available jobs, and he knew they were bound to find places before him because they were women. It was their fault, and he knew it. He was experiencing a prejudice that they must face all the time.

He looked into Care.com, but none of the jobs on there seemed like long-term gigs, and he didn’t want to just be a glorified baby sitter. He figured if he could find a well paying nannying job, he could do that for a bit until finding a job at a new facility, or even set up his dream pre-school. During his search on Indeed, he saw a position for a live-in nanny – jackpot! Live-in meant long-term, and long-term meant lots of money. It also meant he could get rid of his apartment and not have to pay rent for a while. He clicked on the ad that was posted only a couple of weeks ago.

Live-in Nanny Needed for Help with Eight-Month-Old

Minimum requirements:

· Bachelor’s in either early childhood education or elementary education

· At least two years’ experience working babies/children

Three professional references required

Applicant is subject to thorough background check for the safety of the child and mother.

Other tasks as needed include:

· Cooking

· Light cleaning

· Grocery shopping/running other errands

If applicant is selected, they will be paid a flat rate of $1600 bi-weekly, will live in “in-law” section of the house, and a car will be provided for them. A resume, cover letter, and three professional references may be sent directly to [email protected]

After reading everything over, this seemed like Harry’s best bet. Some of it seemed a little too good to be true, but this was a risk he needed to take right now. He just hoped the position hadn’t already been filled. That night he spent some time updating his LinkedIn, making sure all of his privacy settings were up to date on all of his social media, and then wrote out a resume and cover letter. The last part was his least favorite because he knew a proper resume and cover letter had to be curated to the specific job, and it made things all the more tedious. By the time he was done, it was late. He didn’t want to seem unprofessional, so he waited to send the email until the next morning.

Subject: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good morning,

My name is Harry and I’m interested in the nannying advert you’ve posted on Indeed. For the last four years I’ve been working at P.B. & J.’s Child Care Center, and was recently promoted to team lead. Unfortunately, the business itself couldn’t remain afloat, and I was laid off.

Attached are my resume and cover letter. I’d be happy to provide the three references if I end up being considered for the position.

Thank you for your time and consideration,

Harry

Treat People With Kindness

He closes his laptop with a satisfied sigh after proofreading his email ten different times before he hit send. He takes a sip from his coffee, and sits back on his sofa. Now all he had to do was wait.

There was radio silence for two days. Harry was starting to think he would need to keep job hunting. He had bills to pay, and the last thing he wanted to do was ask his parents for help. They already looked down on his profession as it was. If he had his own car he’d become an uber driver or something, but he didn’t so he couldn’t. Then, by some stroke of luck, at 4:55PM on a Thursday, he gets an email from the address he had been hoping to see pop up.

Subject: Re: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good evening Harry,

My name is Jane Watson, thank you so much for your application. My apologies it has taken me a couple of days to get back to you. I am usually more responsive, but things have been a little crazy at work as of late. Upon further review of your resume and over letter, I would like to offer you an interview this Saturday at noon, if you are available. I can be flexible if that day and time do not work for you.

If you are able to come, and are still interested in the position, I ask that you please bring your references with you. I will want to call them right away. I am sure you can understand me wanting to thoroughly look into you before letting you into my daughter’s life.

I look forward to hearing back from you soon.

All my best,

Jane

Harry responded to her right away, he didn’t care how eager he seemed. He told her Saturday at noon worked great, and that he would definitely have his references, and anything else he needed to provide. She emailed him back an hour or so later with her cell phone number and address. For the first time in a while, Harry felt like he could breathe again. He knew it wasn’t a done deal that he’d be getting the job, but he was being given a chance, and for that he was thankful.

He wanted to make a good first impression on Saturday, so he made sure to wash his hair in the shower, and use his good mousse so his hair would look more orderly. He shaved to give himself that clean and sleek look, this was not a day to appear scruffy. He knew he didn’t need to be overly dressed up, but he also knew that you’re supposed to dress for the job you want and not the job you have. He irons a pair of tan slacks and pairs it with a blue button up. Not to brag, but his bum looked great in these slacks, and it was giving him all the confidence in the world. He puts on a floral tie, just to show a bit of his personality, makes sure his nail polish isn’t chipped, and makes sure all of his rings are looking shiny. He takes an uber out to Jane’s house. It was in a gated community, which he was expecting since he looked up the house beforehand. He wondered what she or her husband did for work to live in a place like this. Or perhaps she inherited the home? Either way, he was excited.

He thanks the driver, and knocks on the door as he was instructed to do. A woman with silver hair that was up in a nice bun opens the door.

“Hello, you must be Mr. Styles.” She smiles.

“Yes, hello.” He smiles back.

“I’m MaryAnne, please come in.” She steps aside to let Harry in.

“Thank you.”

“Miss Watson is just pumping, but you can wait for her here in her office.” She leads Harry down a corridor where he meets a grand double door. MaryAnne opens them and shows him inside. “Make yourself comfortable, dear. Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, tea?”

“I’m all set, but thank you very much.”

The woman nods and leaves him in the room alone. He stays standing as he didn’t want to assume where he should be sitting. There was a gorgeous desk with two chairs on the other side, but there was also a small round table with four chairs around it in the corner. She clearly held a lot of meetings here, or so it would seem. To pass the time he looks over her bookshelves, scanning over what she might be into. She seemed to be into fiction, but he had never heard of any of the books on some of the shelves, or the author. She had several by the same person. Before he could look further, he heard the clacking of heels on the hardwood floors approaching him.

Everything stopped when she walked in. Jane had her hair up in a flowing ponytail, a white blouse covered her top half, he notices that the first few buttons were left undone, probably to help with her pumping, and she had a black pencil skirt on that just came to her knees. She was short, and a little voluptuous, not that Harry was checking her out.

“Hello, Mr. Styles, I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” He goes to stick his hand out for her to shake, but she walks around him and sits down at her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

He swallows and sits down.

“Y-you can just call me Harry if you like, Mrs. Watson.”

“I’m a Miss not a missus.” She says as she takes out a folder with a few sheets in it and a pen. “It says here you graduated Summa Cum Laude from Lesley University. That’s an incredible place to get a degree in education.”

“Thank you, I got a pretty decent scholarship, it was my reach school. I minored in psychology as well. I did my practicum hours at a daycare center that specialized in caring for children with disabilities. So, I’ve worked with all sorts of children. I prefer working with infants and toddlers, though.”

“And why is that?” She looks at him, clicking her pen, ready to take notes.

“Well, I just have more fun with them, to be honest. I like watching them discover new things. My favorite thing to do while working in the baby room at my last job was working with the babies on their tummy times. It was always rewarding to watch them get stronger. I feel like I just bond with them better.”

“I need to ask you some personal questions since this is a live-in position.”

“Of course.” Harry nods.

“Are you in any sort of relationship with anyone?”

“No, I’m single.”

“Have you ever been arrested, or do you have any sort of criminal history?”

“No.”

“I’m not one to judge, I think everyone deserves a second chance, I just have to ask these sort of things.” She says.

“I don’t have a criminal record, Miss Watson.”

“History of drug use?”

“I smoked a bit of weed when I was younger, but I don’t anymore. An edible once in a while, maybe, but never when I’m on the clock.”

“Just marijuana?”

“I’ve done shrooms a few times, but nothing other than that. Stupid kid stuff.”

“Again, not judging. I’d prefer you don’t have any drugs in the house, unless they’re for medical use. I know edibles can be prescribed by doctors for anxiety and whatnot.” Harry nods at that. “What about alcohol? You’re twenty-six, you must enjoy a drink after a long day.”

“A glass of red once in a while, sure.” He nods. “But I’m not really a heavy drinker, I never have been. I’d say if anything I’m a social drinker, but you watch me carefully at a party you’ll notice that I nurse the same drink.” He smirks.

“I’m the same way. A little bit of a buzz is fun, but anything more can be a bit scary. I actually cannot remember the last time I had a real drink.” She looks off in thought.

“Well, can’t you drink now that the baby’s here?”

“And have to succumb to a pump and dump?” She scoffs. “No way, that would be a total waste. It’s torture enough to sit there while a machine sucks the milk out of my-“ She stops herself. “Sorry.” She shakes her head. “Anyways, your resume was impressive, and you were quite articulate in your cover letter. You’re the only candidate I’ve invited for an interview.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She nods. “I really wanted someone with experience, not someone fresh out of college looking for a place to live. You’d really be okay with living here?”

“Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor. My long-term goal is to either have a daycare or pre-school of my own someday. Not having to pay rent for a while would really help me save up for that.”

“That’s an incredible goal to have, Harry.” She smiles, impressed by his ambition. “What questions do you have for me?”

“I just want to clarify, your daughter is eight months?” Jane nods. “And what’s her name?”

“Lilly.” Jane smiles.

“That’s a beautiful name.” Harry smiles. “Why exactly do you need a live-in nanny?”

“I work a lot.” She sighs. “And I’m a single mom. I want her to always have someone here that she can depend on and feel comfortable with. Sometimes my work drags me out in the middle of the night, or I have to take a phone call at an odd hour. I just want someone else here in case I can’t be if something comes up.”

“So, her father’s not in the picture?”

“No.” Her features sour a bit. “He doesn’t even know she exists to be perfectly honest with you. I found out I was pregnant after we broke up, and I decided not to tell him about her. He was a deadbeat moocher, he would have been useless.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but thank you for telling me. May I ask, how old are you?”

“Twenty-nine, does that matter?”

“No! No, I was just more so curious. You seem pretty successful to be in a home like this. In the advert, you stated I’d be given a car as well, that’s not exactly cheap.”

“You’ll be given access to one of my cars.” She says. “I’m not giving you a car, make no mistake about that.” She smirks. “I’m an author, a successful one.” Harry tries to think if he’s ever heard of a Jane Watson before, but he’s coming up blank. “You’ve never heard of me because I have a pen name. If it’s all the same, I don’t really want to share it with you. Not yet, anyways.”

“Sure…wait…are you offering me the job?”

“Not quite. I’d like you to meet my daughter. I want to see how she interacts with you.”

“I’d love to meet Lilly.” He smiles.

“Great, before we do that, do you have more questions?”

“Yes, who’s MaryAnne? Is she, like, a maid or housekeeper?”

“No.” Jane laughs. “She’s my personal assistant. I usually answer the door myself, but pumping took a bit longer than usual.”

“When did you publish your first work?”

“When I was twenty.” She smiles. “I was still in school, and I decided just to self-publish. It took off, and a few companies reached out to me. I eventually got an agent, and the rest was history. I’m a fast writer, I’m able to churn out more projects than most people, and for whatever reason they keep becoming hits. One of the reasons I travel a lot is that a couple of my works are being turned into television shows, and working out those contracts is a lot. I want to be a part of the process to make sure the stories are told correctly.”

“That’s incredible!”

“it is.” She nods. “I never thought I’d be a television producer, but here I am. I don’t really want Lilly around all that, so there’s another reason for having a live-in nanny.”

“This may seem like a silly question, but will I have time off?”

“Oh my goodness, of course! The salary is negotiable as well. You’ll have weekends off, as well as all bank and national holidays. You’ll also earn vacation time and sick leave like at any other job. You’ll be given a benefits package as well, if you need health insurance.”

“You…you provide stuff like that?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I’ve just never heard of a nannying job quite like this before.” He blinks. “It feels too good to be true.”

“I’m just a firm believer in compensating someone properly. I believe in investing in the people you have.”

“Right.” He swallows. He almost starting to feel like he was going to be her sugar baby or something, but he obviously knew that wasn’t the case. “You asked me about my dating life, what about yours?”

“I’m also single. Lilly is my top priority, and then comes my work. I’m completely fulfilled as is.” She stands from her desk. “Come, I’ll give you a tour of the house, and of the in-law space, and then you can meet Lilly.”

“Okay.” He stands up and follows her out of the office.

She shows him the living room, which felt more like a study. There was an entertainment room with a huge flat screen, deluxe loungers, a pool table, and bar. She shows him to the kitchen which was equally as extravagant. She brings him upstairs to show him all of the bedrooms.

“This is Lilly’s room.” Jane says proudly.

“it’s beautiful, I love the light purple.”

“So do I.” She says. “My room is down the hall, don’t think you need a tour of that.” She laughs and they head back downstairs. “Here’s the inside entrance to the in-law, but there’s also an exterior entrance you can use…or if you have guests over.” Harry’s in awe of the space. It was larger than his apartment. “It’s a one bedroom flat essentially. There’s a full bath en suite, and there’s a half bath over there. Open concept kitchen and living area. It’s fully furnished as well. Feel free to decorate it however you like. I just ask that this space stays yours. There’s really no reason for you to bring Lilly in here, you know?”

“Sure, yeah. This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it. Let’s just hope Lilly like you.” Jane smirks, and they head back to the main part of the house, and into Lilly’s playroom. She was sitting with MaryAnne in a large rocking chair. “M, you can feel free to go back to your office if you like. Harry’s going to get acquainted with Lilly.”

“Of course.” MaryAnne stands up with the baby, and hands her over to Jane.

“She has an office here too?” Harry asks.

“Of course she does, and one of the guest rooms upstairs is hers to use when she needs it.” She kisses the top of her daughter’s head. “Lilly,” she coos, “I have someone I’d like you to meet.” She gestures for Harry to take her, and he happily does so.

“Hey, baby girl.” Harry coos. Bright hazel eyes look up at him in wonder. He lets her latch onto his index finger. “It’s so nice to meet you.” He looks at Jane. “She’s precious, Miss Watson.”

“Isn’t she?” Jane beams. “She’s really been enjoying her bouncy, and messing around with her blocks. I have some CD’s I like having her listen to as well. Oh! We did a paint with pudding night as a sensory play thing, it was a hoot.” She chuckles.

“Those are great, aren’t they? Very stimulating, and it teaches the child that sometimes messes are okay.” He looks down at Lilly and smiles. “May I sit with her in the rocking chair?”

“Please!” She gestures to it, and she sits down on the loveseat in the room. Harry sits down with Lilly, cradling her carefully. He adjusts her so she’s able to stand on his lap. She bounces herself and giggles. “Look at that!” Jane exclaims. “I love it when she does that.”

“She’s awfully sweet.” Harry smiles, and then he looks at Jane. “How much do you feed her?”

“I give her roughly twenty-four to thirty-two ounces a day. You’ll know how hungry she is or isn’t in the moment. I’ve started giving her pureed butternut squash, mashed bananas and strawberries, she’s got that puffed baby cereal as well. I’ve also started giving her ground chicken in really small doses just to get her some protein, but right now I’ve mostly been sticking to fruits and veggies. You must know a lot about what foods to give a baby?”

“I do.” He nods. “You’re still producing that much milk to give her daily?”

“I’ve almost been wishing I’d dry up. I get so sore somedays.” Jane sighs. “But I figure it’s good for her to have it while I can still make it. I’m not opposed to formular or anything…but I like bonding with her in that way. I got rid of her baby acne by rubbing my nipple on her skin, it was like magic.”

“It’s certainly a trick of the trade.” He smirks at her. “I remember learning that in one of my courses, and I was amazed. You all are super humans.”

Jane watches Harry play on the ground with Lilly for a bit. Harry was already so wonderful with her. Harry starts to smell something, and so does Jane.

“Think it’s time for a diaper change.” He chuckles and picks her up. “Would you like me to change her?”

“Yeah, I’d like to see you do it.”

He brings Lilly over to the changing table, and lays her down.

“I know you’re all warm and cozy, but I need to disrupt that for a moment.” He says to the baby girl who was babbling and blowing little spit bubbles, totally unbothered. Harry unsnaps her onesie, and lifts her legs to detach the diaper. His eyes widen at the type of diaper that’s on her. “You cloth diaper?” He looks at Jane.

“It’s better for the environment.” She shrugs. “There’s a trashcan for the…um, poop, and there’s another can for the diapers. I give her a regular diaper for bedtime just because it’s easier to change her in the middle of the night and in the morning, but daytime I use the cloth diapers.”

“Makes sense to me.” Harry disposes of everything, and grabs a few wipes to clean Lilly up. She took a powerful stinky.

“I blame it on the pureed peas.” Jane laughs.

“It doesn’t even phase me anymore, honestly.” Harry says as he gets a little baby powder on her. He grabs a spare cloth diaper, and gets it on her. He snaps her onesie back together and lifts her up. “There we go, good as new, darling girl.” Lilly blows some bubbles at Harry, and blows some back, making her giggle. Jane beams at the two of them.

“It’s about time for her afternoon nap. Would you like to put her down?”

“I’d love to.”

Harry carries Lilly upstairs with Jane. She flips on Lilly’s white noise machine, and makes sure her favorite blankies are in the crib. Harry sits down in the large chair in the corner of the room and starts to rock her gently, giving her soothing rubs. Jane watches as Lilly’s eyelids start to droop. She fights it at first, but Harry continues to soothe her until she’s out like a light. He carefully stands up and sets her down into her crib. The two back out of the room quietly, and make their way down the stairs.

“Let’s go back to my office.” Jane says, and Harry follows her there. Once they’re both seated, she starts speaking again. “Well, the job is yours if you want it.”

“Really?” Harry felt every worry from his life leave his body.

“Yes.” She chuckles. “You’ve really impressed me, and I think Lilly’s quite taken with you already. I’d love to have you as her nanny.” She takes out a few forms. “May I have your references? The background check will take about a week. How soon could you start after that?”

“Right away, honestly.” He hands her a sheet with his references.

“Here are the tax forms you’ll need to fill out, a form for direct deposit, and some information on your benefits. You can get everything back to me by the end of next week.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to get started, Miss Watson.” He stands to shake her hand, and she stands as she takes it.

“Please, you can call me Jane.”

#love's divine #love's divine part one #call me jane #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles series #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x oc #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #nanny!Harry #nanny!H #nannerry

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dark-hs-redux · 2 years ago

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☆ Introduction: Please Read! ☆

☆ My name is Reggie, I'm 24, and I've been reading/writing fanfic for over a decade now. This blog is exclusively for my "Dark" (Harry Styles AU fanfic redux) story.

☆ You can read my story here on this blog If it's posted anywhere else, please let me know! Those are the only two places I've posted it myself.

☆ You can read the original "Dark"/"Knockout" story over here on Wattpad. The story was originally written by @han-rawr/@waaterbaby/@dark128 here on Tumblr.

☆ The ask box on this blog doesn't ever close, and I love hearing feedback about my story.

☆ Please take a minute to review the disclaimers I've written under the cut!

As evidenced by the information provided, this series/collection of works - including all subsequent additions to the story - are what I would consider a 2023 "redux" of the original works "Dark" and "Knockout", posted by @han-rawr/@waaterbaby/@dark128 on Tumblr. Both of which have been re-posted and are still available on Wattpad - I've linked them above. (If you're reading this fic and haven't read those yet, stop what you're doing and go read them - they're FANTASTIC! The dark128 blog that used to be an official archive of the story doesn't have the entire thing anymore either, so if you like Dark/Knockout, please download it while you can and send all your feedback to the original author - she's active on her waaterbaby blog and answers asks!)

Technically defined, a "redux" in writing is "brought back — used postpositively," meaning that I am in no way trying to degrade, mock, or otherwise harm the original work/idea by the original author. Her works inspired me to write another version of that story. I waited until after she was done writing the books to begin mine, and I'm giving full credit to her for the original idea of a "dark AU" Harry Styles in the respect of his profession as a boxing instructor turned underground bare-knuckle fighter. Because this is a different take on that story I have changed some aspects - character names, character traits, parts of the plot, etc.

I'd also like to point out the obvious: The male lead - Harry - bears no likeness to the living Harry Styles aside from his physical appearance. The living Harry Styles is in no way condoning the actions of this character.

If you're under, or over, the age of 17 and still choose to read this - especially if anything listed above is a trigger for your own trauma - then I will not be held accountable for any emotional/mental damage sustained as a result of my writing. If for any reason the content in this story might mentally or emotionally harm you, please don't read it.

Next, it's important that everyone reading this knows that this content is NOT SUITABLE for anyone under the age of 17. I would consider it to be R-rated/TV-MA rated.

Consider this a blanket CONTENT WARNING for the ENTIRE story!

(1) There will be depictions of sexual intercourse (between consenting adults - drunk AND sober);

(2) There will be mentions of sexual assault - nothing ever too graphic/detailed;

(3) There will be mentions of domestic violence (emotional abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, etc.);

(4) There will be mentions AND depictions of drug and alcohol abuse;

(5) There will be depictions of graphic violence (active and passive);

and

(6) There will be depictions of unhealthy, abusive, and toxic relationships between adults.

Finally, I'd like to say that I am writing this ENTIRELY for entertainment purposes. I, in no way, condone or encourage the actions of these characters, the relationship styles written here or the mental, emotional, verbal, or borderline physical abuse of anyone to their partner or other people.

If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence - in ANY form - please get immediate help. In the United States, the National Domestic Violence Hotline can be reached via their website https://www.thehotline.org/ or by phone at 1-800-799-7233.

On a lighter note, I'm going to list what songs inspired which parts of the story. I have a public Spotify playlist here.

Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy my story!

Reggie

#pinned post #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #dark harry styles #dark harry styles fan fic #dark harry styles fanfic #dark harry styles fan fiction #dark harry styles fanfiction #one direction #one direction fan fic #one direction fanfic #one direction fan fiction #one direction fanfiction #1d #one d #1direction

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danpuff-ao3 · 2 years ago

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Hi Dan! Can I ask for some fluffy, non-explicit Snarry recs, if you happen to know some? I am going through a heartbreak atm and I could use the warm fuzzies from some cute enemies to lovers 😥 Love your writing btw, you're a blessing to this world ❤️❤️

Hello my dear! I'm so sorry to hear of your sweet heart so broken! I will do my best to rec you some goodies!

I must warn you, I often tell people my angst-meter is broken and for similar reasons I think my fluff-meter is broken. 😂 But I will share with you some lighthearted reads I turn to when I most need them, and hope they bring you as much comfort as they bring me. 💛

First and foremost I'll start with some sneaky, shameless self-recs. I find family fics often have feel-good vibes, so I have rec lists for Snarry Raises Teddy and Family Fics you can check out. I also have some fluffy (for me!) fics of my own: Domestic Bliss (Snarry Style) series, The Gift of Love, and The Christmas Prince.

And with that...let's carry on with the proper recs, shall we? I do hope at least some of these fit your needs! (And lmk if you want the M & E rated version at some point!)

Sending you all of my love and hugs!!!! 🤗💛

Just Desserts

by accioslash. Rated G. 5k. AU.

Non-magic Coffee shop AU

The Beauty of Childbirth

by AnyaElizabeth. Rated G. 700. Mpreg.

The birth of Harry and Severus's first child. In which Severus remains cynical to the end.

a scratch for every itch

by bleedcolor. Rated T. 11k. Magical maladies.

Severus Snape is an itch that Harry just can't scratch.

Over Tea

by Dementordelta. Rated G. 5k. Severus & Minerva friendship.

Snape and McGonagall form a friendship based on tea, teaching, and Harry Potter. Inspired by a drabble called "Evening Tea", by Serenity, used with permission.

Lemons and Strawberries

by emeraldlove (@givereadersahug.) Rated T. 800.

Severus bakes a cake for Harry's forty-second birthday.

Lilac

by emeraldlove. Rated G. 1k. Humor.

"You're cursed," declared Hermione. She dropped several books onto the table, scattering the flowers lying about, and took a seat. There were petals on the table and on the floor — especially on, above, under, and surrounding Harry.

The Perfect Love Story

by emynn. Rated G. Mpreg.

They didn't have the traditional love story, but it worked for them.

Marks

by florahart. Rated G. 5k. Muggle AU. Podfic available.

Harry's a computer science student, but he needs a writing credit to qualify for an internship. All the writing classes are full, so he ends up in Snape's lit class as a substitute. Snape has a reputation as a hardass, but it can be said that no one passes his class without learning to write, so that meets the requirement, and then, once Harry starts working on that, it turns out they have something else in common.

Glitter

by khaleesisophie (@hereiamwithmyninjaclan.) Rated T. 6k. Gift giving.

Was it a tiny decision, made so many years ago? If he retraced his steps, would he always find his way back here?

Five times Severus almost kissed Harry (and the one time he did)

by Likelightinglass (@likelightinglass.) Rated G. 4k. 8th year. Pining. 5+1.

Severus wants to kiss Harry but doesn't. Eventually, he does.

So Quite a New Thing

by Likelightinglass. Rated G. 2k. 5+1.

Five times Harry gets thrown out of Severus' shop, and the one time he comes back.

Five Times Severus Saved Harry and the One Time He Didn't Have To

by Lunarlooroo. Rated G. 8k. 5+1. Postwar.

The world knows Harry has a saving people thing, but only Harry knows that Severus has always had a saving Harry thing. (Even if there are some things that Harry doesn't need saving from.)

(Not quite) For Your Eyes Only

by PinaNaponi (@vulnerasanenturmyprince). Rated T. 2k. 5+1. Alternating POVs.

Five times Harry and Severus don’t realise someone is watching, and one time they do.

Ronald Weasley, Stay at Home Dad

by PinaNaponi. Rated T. 6k. Matchmaking. Ron POV.

Prompt #62: Harry is the only one of them without a spouse. In Witch Weekly, Ron finds a ‘Find Your Ideal Partner’ quiz and fills it in on Harry’s behalf. The likely candidate – in fact, the ideal candidate – turns out to be someone just like Snape. He decides that it is up to him to bring the two together.

The Art of Coffee

by Snarry5evr. Rated T. 10. Muggle AU.

Taking over the overnight shift at the campus coffee shop, Harry meets an interesting stranger.

Birthdays Present

by Somn (@somnwritessometimes.) Rated T. 4k (so far.) Series.

various birthday fics for Harry and Severus

The Prince's Bride

by suitesamba (@suitesamba.) Rated T. 5k. Humor.

Hugo Weasley is sick and can’t go with his family to Diagon Alley to get Rose’s wand. Fortunately, Grandpa Arthur agrees to come and stay with him, and has a special book to read aloud. The book is The Princess Bride, and even though it’s not about Uncle Harry and Uncle Severus at all, Hugo would be a fool if he didn’t see the oh-so-obvious parallels. Fortunately, in the end, Uncle Harry arrives just in time to set the record straight and tell the real story.

#danpuff recs #fluff #ish #fluffish #lighthearted reads #heartwarming reads #happy reads #asked & answered

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rosesnink · 2 years ago

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The Tattletale’s Mask

Author’s Notes:

This story was certainly hard to work with, since we do not know much of Theresa, but I hope that I had made her justice and let people see where she comes from. This is dedicated to all those girls who are told that they talk too much or that they can’t do something: they’re wrong and you’re amazing. There is somebody who wants to hear what you say and who sees you and loves you for what you are. Never give up on yourself and know that you’re loved.

English is not my first language, so please forgive any typos/grammar mistakes

I’m making more of these with other characters like Harry, Edmund, and even Holloway. If you want to read the backstories of other characters like our Lady Grandmother or Roselyn Sinclaire, click here!

Summary: We see how Miss Sutton lived the events that entailed in the series

Word Count: 5.1k

Category: Fluff, angst and everything in between

Pairing: Theresa Sutton x Harry Foredale, Theresa Sutton & Edmund Marlcaster

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Discussion of death and grief, misogyny of the era and spoilers from the main series The Cursed Heiress. Read under your own discretion.

Book: Desire and Decorum

December, 1801

“And remember, Little Tess, don’t talk until you’re required to, and remember to breathe when you do!” Her mother advised her.

“And to be a good woman of God,” her father added.

Theresa Sutton nodded, wanting nothing more than to please her parents. Despite them being different themselves: her father being of white skin and a minor priest from Moorfield and her mother being brown-skinned and the daughter of a former slave, she wouldn’t notice such differences until she started blossoming into a woman. Tonight, she’d be introduced to the Earl of Edgewater, the son of the scary old man. He seemed kinder and actually interested into the ongoings of their modest house. Or at least he was good at pretending.

With him, his son who was her age and the eldest, of blonde hair and pretty blue eyes, greeted one another and sat in the dinner table as the younglings were in a different table, commenting the meal “I hope you like the potatoes! They aren’t the best, but our cook made it with love!”

The eldest, Edmund, overwhelmed by so much chatter, simply nodded as Harry assured her, they were just fine. She liked Harry. He was funny and seemed to like her enough. She was aware that she was but seven years-old, but she always dreamt of finding a good man and marrying him. Not like her mother, who seemed always so quiet and unhappy in her marriage.

She liked talking. It helped her pour out her heart and made her feel like this house wasn’t much of a prison. And everyone looked so gloomy, and the outside felt so colourful! Soon, as they seemed to start talking politics, dismissed the children to their assigned room, where Edmund brooded as she and Harry played Truth or Dare.

“Alright, my turn! Truth or dare, Theresa?”

“Truth!”

He smiled “Can I call you Tessa?”

“Oh!” She replied. Her mother and father called her Tess, and her eldest brother called her Sissie, but no-one called her Tessa “I mean, why not!”

“Alright, Tessa, I dare you to…” he whispered in her ear and she looked at him “What? It’ll help!”

“Alright,” she shrugged and went over Edmund. Since he was rather tall, she tapped on his leg “I think that your hair looks well, and nobody here thinks that you’re a dumb trollop, whatever that means.”

His eyebrows shoot up “Oh!” He looked over his brother and smiled “Thank you. That was... very kind.”

She shyly went back to Harry’s side and she whispered “Is your mother so mean to him? He seems nice!”

“I’m afraid so. I think she means well, but does it the wrong way. Boys like to be complimented as well; you know.”

“You’re very wise, and you’re younger than I am!”

May, 1810

Theresa Sutton was rendered speechless from the first time in a while. She gaped at her mother for what it felt like centuries “Cat finally got your tongue, girl?” Her father rushed.

“No, no! I’m just… he’s so… much older.”

Her father waved his hand “Four years is nothing. I’m twelve years older than your mother and we get along just fine, don’t we, Jocasta?”

Her mother faked a smile “Indeed, dear. My point is, he is handsome, wealthy, his mother’s titled and he will be kind to you. Not everyone has that privilege, dear.”

“Besides, a tattletale like you can’t do better. He doesn’t like speaking and you do. The two of you will reach an agreement, that’s for sure.”

“But… I’m in love with Viscount Harry!”

“He is betrothed to his neighbour, Annabelle Parsons. For a few months now. I’m afraid that asking the earl to switch brides would be highly improper, and a viscount is too much for you, anyways. It’s either Mr. Marlcaster or maidenhood.”

Theresa balled her fists and sobbed “I hate you! You’re a vile man, father!”

“Ungrateful brat—,” He got up, ready to smack her.

Her mother was quicker and shushed him “It’s but a tantrum! She’ll see your way, leave her to me, Jerry!”

“Hmm. She better. No other man in his right mind will come knock for her hand again.”

As she rushed upstairs, sobbing uncontrollably, she tried not to slam the door as she threw herself into bed and continued the sobbing and despair into sadness.

She didn’t notice her mother coming in and caressing her back, a sympathetic look in her face, and observing her with empathetic eyes. When she looked up, between sobs and irregular breathing and buggers of crying, she asked “Why, Mama? Why are you agreeing on this?”

“When one is a woman, and is not of white colour, we have little saying in what we are. But times are changing, my dear. At least none of us practically belong to your father as property. I will tell you something, little dove: sometimes, the only power we withhold is the one over men. What you did there was a mistake: never tempt a white man’s rage. Instead, lure him with daughterly affection. Men mellow quickly with hugs, kisses and puppy eyes. They are weaker than any man! Simple, and sometimes quite naïve about us.”

“What would you have me do?” She asked, her voice hoarse.

“Men like their women innocent and clueless. In their eyes, be that, but the moment the door close… play your cards carefully.”

“Like Papa and James when they play poker?”

Her mother smiled, pinching her nose “Exactly, my dear. The world is our poker, and we are cards. Depending on the situation, we change alliances to survive. Sometimes you’ll be ace, sometimes you’ll be spades. Besides, Harry is even younger, and so is Annabelle. I know the girl. In normal circumstances, she wouldn’t even bat an eye even if Harry was bare before her.”

“Mother!”

“It’s true, my love. Annie is quite indifferent to men, and prefers to be among us. Let us visit her and discuss your respective engagements.”

“Do you… want me to find out why she accepted the betrothal?”

Jocasta smiled and kissed her head “My smart girl. Now, prepare yourself and give me your best puppy pout. You will get on your knees and beg for his forgiveness.”

“And then?”

“…You’ll plot your revenge by scoring your beloved viscount. Rome wasn’t conquered in one day. But if you’re smart and know which card become, soon he’ll be giving you over to the heir to an earldom.”

As she got downstairs, her father was reading the newspaper, muttering to himself. When he noticed his daughter’s presence, he frowned “What do you want, Tess?”

She got on her knees with a guilty look and grabbed his pantaloons “Father… forgive me. I have disrespected you and was a very, very ungrateful daughter. I should’ve known my place, and I’d be pleased to become Mrs. Marlcaster.”

Her father raised an eyebrow and she rested her head on his lap “It won’t happen again. You shall find me your best, most ardently devoted and loving daughter. Please, Papa…” She looked at him like she was a puppy and he just kicked her. His demeanour mellowed.

“Very well. I forgive you. You are young and naïve, but later you’ll thank me.”

She smiled at him and kissed his hand, and he beckoned her to go back to her room. Now that she crossed her father off her to-do list, there was something else to do: talk to Miss Annabelle Parsons. Her next stop tomorrow would be Hazelvale Manor.

“Miss Sutton! Be welcome!” Annabelle smiled.

Theresa started a long ramble about what a pretty decoration she owned and how Felicity’s house looked similar, hoping that she’d get bored easily. Annabelle was certainly good at pretending to listen, but she could read boredom well enough. She talked more of the gossip she had heard, until Annabelle finally snapped, in her own polite way.

“I’d like to congratulate you on your betrothal to Eddie.”

“Ooh, thank you!” She made sure to squeal and conspirationally whisper “And soon you’ll score the youngest for yourself! Exciting, isn’t it?!” She batted her eyes, and Annabelle looked uncomfortable. Disgusted by the idea, even. But that mask was off for a few seconds.

“I look forward… to unite our houses.”

“Great! We shall be sisters, you and I!” She took her hands and squeezed them as hard as she could.

If Mama is right, it shouldn’t be difficult to rip my Harry from you.

Annabelle smiled “Wouldn’t that be simply wonderful?”

Theresa couldn’t help a giggle, and thank God that, in her eyes, she was just being childish about it. But deep inside, she was hiding her machinations to take Harry from her.

A beautiful maid of rich blonde hair came in, serving the tea, and Annabelle gave her a pair of curious eyes “Whoa! That’s such a pretty hair!”

She smiled wistfully “I know.”

Theresa looked at her, her mask falling off just for a few nanoseconds. She looked at her like she wanted Harry to look at her. Like no one else in the world mattered, but he just left or blushed and avoided her ever since the engagement. Boys were so simple, yet so complicated when it came to express one’s feelings! It was exasperating.

“So, how do you imagine your wedding? Given that one day he’ll be heir, it should be a grand thing!” She wanted to strangle her so bad in that moment.

Why her? Why not me?

Supposedly, she should be thrilled of one day becoming a viscountess. She could tell by her eyes and mannerisms that she felt like a pig readying itself for slaughter. And she and Harry were closer than she’d like. She was aware that she didn’t have a right to be possessive, but the feeling was there and she couldn’t just ignore it. She wanted to shake her and scream at her, and demand why she accepted the proposal when it was obvious that it was the last thing in the world she wanted to do. She had at first thought she was just averse to touch in general, but it only seemed to be the case when a woman was around. She was hands-on and smiley, meanwhile with a man she was stern and mysterious.

She had heard many myths. That once upon a time, there had been a time where several women lived in the isle of Lesbos and engaged in romantic and emotional relationships among them, among them the infamous poet Sappho, whose book was deemed immoral and forbidden and burned down. She had also seen drawing of it in another countries, and some made her blush. And when they had been in the museums watching statues of Aphrodite, she had been wide-eyed and red. Could it be? That she felt that way with women the way she should feel about men?

Poor girl, she thought, unable to talk to someone or relate to it.

How lonely it must be, in such a poorly communicated world where one is trapped in a certain society full of rules, especially when one was a coloured woman. As her mother had told her, if women didn’t support one another, who would?

Theresa placed her hand on hers “If you ever need venting, I’m here.”

Annabelle blinked for a few seconds before nodding.

“I’m quite fine, honestly. I suppose the thrill will come the nearer the wedding is.”

They both knew she was lying. She would never find joy in it. Not as long as Harry was a man.

What a beautiful world would be, one with less rules on who to love, tasting the freedom of it, unbound and unapologetically, and shamelessly.

December, 1814

The rain had been pouring out like Heaven itself was falling, and Theresa needed some comfort, unable to sleep due to Henrietta’s hurtful remarks on how she chose to dress. Surely cream tulle was a sensible choice?

She quickly ducked into the library and started exploring where would she travel tonight, wondering whether Keats or Machiavelli would be good choices before drifting to sleep. She chose Keats and found herself engrossed in his work, deliciously scandalous with the right amount of salacious and fascinating tales. She couldn’t help herself with a snort, and when she looked up, she nearly screamed, were it not for her visitor’s quick hand covering her mouth. Such gesture made her cheeks redden.

“Forgive me,” Harry whispered, retracting his hand “but I heard a noise and thought we had an unwanted guest.” He observed her choice of reading and his eyebrows shoot up in amusement “I didn’t know you were interested in Keats.”

“I—I like the… gossip.”

Harry chuckled and took a dangerous step closer “You needn’t don your mask before me, Tess. I shall not tell a soul that you are smarter than you pretend to be.”

“I—I—that is—,” She sighed, chuckling “have you been spying on me, my lord?”

“Merely observing with attention.”

Her breath got caught “You ought to do that with Miss Parsons, not me.”

He took yet another step, and Theresa caught herself against one shelf, her eyes on Harry’s beautiful blue eyes, the same shade as the Edgewater colours “Why pretend that you are an airhead when you’re far more enthralling like that?” He asked, his voice musky.

“I don’t think you’d understand.”

He tucked one strand of hair in her ear and she noticed how unproperly dressed she was, in nothing but a nightgown and her hair down and unbound for rolling into the satin sheets. Their chests were inches close, and he too was in state on undress, only his shirtsleeves and pantaloons “Try me. I like to think that I am insightful.” His voice was a beautiful baritone whisper, a dangerous invitation. His fingertips now traced her neckline, as if checking her pulse, which was beating incredibly fast, and she looked away. His fingers caught her chin and made him look at him “Don’t. Don’t deprive me of your eyes. It’d be like depraving a lost man in a desert of water.” He whispered, so low she shouldn’t have to hear it in regular circumstances.

“Harry,” she breathed, her eyes on those beautiful lips she dreamt about in the high hours of the night.

“Tess,”

She had been so caught in the moment that she didn’t notice her book dropping slowly from her grasp, and its firm thud made her come to her senses and quickly ran away before he could even come to his own senses. She reached her bedroom and placed her hand on her chest, trying to get a hold of her heartbeats, that were as fast as a hummingbird. She swallowed hard and felt like she had run from Glasgow all the way here.

Locking the door for everybody’s sakes, she drifted to sleep, not before praying to God not to dream of Harry’s lips on her yet again.

April, 1815

Theresa had been comforting a crying Edmund, who silently dropped tears in her lap. It was a strange thing. Throughout their engagement, he had refused to even try to mellow her or try to win her heart. But he had proposed, and had wanted to make it look convincing. She had also noticed how Harry sent her gifts, shamelessly trying to win her to his side. She had always used his brother as excuse of returning the gifts. She wanted him badly, but she had grown up in a house close to God, always beseeching her to be a good and faithful woman even before marriage. If Edmund noticed, he didn’t care, for he was much more interested in hunting.

She had tried to even kiss him, even if it was chastely, but he always turned her away. The argument that followed was quite nasty “Am I not handsome enough for you?” She demanded.

“It’s not that.” He responded flatly.

“I am to be your wife. In these years, you have even refused to take my hand! As if we were committing incest of some sorts!”

He mumbled “What nonsense, Theresa!”

“Then what is it?! Is there another wench which I am unaware of?”

He looked at her horrified “Of course not! I am not a monster, Theresa!”

“THEN WHY WON’T YOU TOUCH ME?!” She cried out, exasperated. She took a deep breath “Sooner or later, we shall be man and wife. Everyone hopes that we start behaving like that. What is holding you back?!” At his silence, she quickly whispered “Do you… perhaps have issues… down there…?”

“My body functions just fine, Miss Sutton!” He declared, like she had just insulted him. Perhaps she had.

She bit her lip “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to insult you. I just… I want to understand why won’t you behave like my future husband! You proposed! You convinced my parents to marry us! Whatever had changed? Do you think I am a tattletale like the rest?”

“You’re not at fault here, Theresa. I… I made a promise.”

“I don’t follow. Do you want to remain celibate until marriage?”

There was a drowning silence, in which the country wind and their breaths were the only sound in the room “I do not… have talent in the amorous path.”

Theresa softened and placed her hand on his shoulder, and as usual, he flinched “I understand if you wish to remain innocent until our wedding night. I find it quite brave of you.”

He only nodded. Theresa was lucky that he didn’t flaunt himself in brothels and hoarded the maids’ bedrooms whenever he had needs. He was restraint and seemed to respect his promise to her. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to understand. She truly did.

“Now, let us go to get some tea.”

He gestured towards the door “Ladies first.”

Things had mellowed due to Harry’s death. She still donned her mask of a tattletale, despite the fact that he wouldn’t like it. This was the thing: men didn’t like women with minds of their own, with deep thoughts and ambition of their own. If she pretended long enough to be air-headed and only caring for gossip and a handsome, wealthy man and a good roof under her head, her life would be solved.

But neither Edmund or Harry were common men. They were men of cultures of their own. They were the sun and the moon, light and dark, Hades and Apollo. Harry was a promise of light, youthful beauty and arts and music flowing the room, as bright as the sun itself, meanwhile Edmund was peace, quiet nights where the lonely and unwanted souls could be free. They both completed one another, and now Edgewater had lost its sun the moment that dreadful boar had struck him down, like the comets had altered the universe with one strike.

There were colour with Harry, vibrant and inspiring people, lightening the way and the walls of the estate, and now he wasn’t here, and the world had fallen into darkness and wails of the ones who had found their purpose under Harry’s comforting light. She would no longer bathe into his sun, or feel his cologne, or see the ruffles of his beautiful hair, the chestnut that reminded her of the autumn paintings she loved.

Now, he just lived in her memory and the few portraits that had been made of him. Humanity was yet to find a way to immortalise somebody. Aged just seventeen, he had taken his holy light from them to perhaps never return.

March, 1816

Theresa had imagined Joanna in many ways before she arrived. Perhaps a female Harry, with his bright blue eyes and his chestnut hair. Instead, she had found a fiery, aloof and fierce young woman, with hair as red as fire itself, and with too many opinions for a world where one wasn’t allowed to have a voice. She admired her bravery and passion, that very much needed fire inside the now shadows of the estate. Light had returned to Edgewater, but with a terrible price.

She knew that Joanna didn’t like her, thinking of her a tattletale with no regard for anything save gossip. Perhaps it was for the best. But one thing was certain: she was a Foredale to the bone, and not even Henrietta’s schemes would take that away. She certainly knew how to get her way, and seemed more experienced in several things than the rest.

She was not a woman of her century, but rather advanced, perhaps too advanced for her own good. She didn’t demand attention with a well-practised nasal voice or to show off, she demanded it the moment she entered the room, without saying a single word, and it had nothing to do with her scandalous backstory, but rather her presence: commanding, alluring, poised, elegant and with a beauty that made men bow before her ethereal beauty, red, blue and white made a woman.

She had hopes that she’d finish what Harry had started. She truly did.

Late April, 1816

Theresa was aware that death always surrounded her, but she was not aware that it’d haunt whoever came too close to the vacancy of the head of Edgewater. It seemed like a curse; whoever dared to declare itself the heir, they’d have a horrible death.

Yellow fever. Boar attack. Murder.

No Foredale in power had any mercy in their last hours. The Earl had died with a terrible illness, Harry had been struck by a deadly boar, and now the duke had murdered Joanna, in her own prime, only for rejecting his affections, if they were even affections per se. They probably didn’t get past carnal possession. He was infamous for the death of any woman who had come close to him. Like yet another terrible curse that went back to the times of Henry VIII.

She had grown to love the woman, a mistake she had committed, and now she watched her be buried six feet deep, childless and without any clear prospect, her suitors devastated to watch her go before fulfilling promises made in hidden places and whispers. If someone deserved a happy ending, that was Joanna. And she herself had lost so much before yielding to death herself: her fiancé, her mother, her father and now herself. Those who had mattered to her, all dead in her arms. How terrible, to have death hovering over your shadow every time you opened up your heart and placed it before someone in your fist, hoping that they’d take care of it. They, unintentionally, had grabbed it and tore it apart before her eyes.

Poor girl, she thought. Poor child. So beautiful, witty, full of life, dreams and ambitions, now lying in the cold ground next to her loved ones, leaving other behind her, with their own hearts destroyed by her before them, even if she didn’t mean it either.

Theresa supposed that was what it meant to love and be loved: burn as bright as the sun and pray not to get burned, but not caring either when you’re into deep, lost in the flames of passion and longing.

She had burned not one, but four hearts, and one hadn’t bore the fire and left it to burn on its own. She’d certainly miss Annabelle, but didn’t blame her for fleeing before getting hurt again. Now the halls of Edgewater held too many memories of Harry’s laughter, Joanna’s bright smile and Vincent’s kind eyes. All of them gone before their time.

That night, after everyone went to sleep, Edmund had summoned her to the drawing room and beckoned her to take a seat “I know that it is perhaps not a good time, but Joanna would’ve wanted me, us, to be happy. I—,”

“You want to end this, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“…Thank God.” She breathed.

He frowned “What—,”

“Oh, don’t make of me a fool, Edmund. We were never meant to marry. I never loved you that way, and neither did you. You were bound by a promise, and my heart belonged to Harry all along. It’d be foolish of us to pretend this is going somewhere. And, perhaps, if we had been sincere with ourselves and one another, this wouldn’t have to be nasty.”

Edmund chuckled bitterly and asked “When did you become so wise?”

“I always have been. You were too focused on my tattletale role.”

Edmund closed the distance and kissed her cheek “You outplayed us all. You will have no trouble outliving this family, dear.”

She placed her hand on his cheek “I’d hate to see you die, though. I mean it. You have been a friend all along. You still matter to me.”

He kissed the inside of her cheek “As do you. I hope that you find a man who is worthy of you, Tessa.”

“As I do, Neddy. And if you have, tell her she has my blessing.”

December, 1816

So much had changed. She had changed. Everyone and everything had.

Joanna had come back from the dead, and Harry as well. Edmund had married Joanna’s lady’s maid, and she was to marry Harry. All because of a last-minute miracle that Joanna did. She had always been a curious thing. The moment they both had dismounted such big mares, Edgewater’s balance had been restored, and its pretenders were gone within the week.

And she was now expecting her first child, and would soon become Countess of Edgewater. If the Theresa from ten years ago heard of it, she’d call her a fool. Edmund was to be a father as well, as if both brothers had coordinated to have a child at the same time. It was certainly a curious thing both expectants had commented over tea.

Her life was as she dreamt once, and with a husband who saw her for who she was all along, she had been happy to drop her mask, leaving everyone dumbfounded when they saw how intelligent she was. This war with society was officially over, and she had won the fight.

My name is Theresa Marie Foredale, formerly Sutton, and I was born on a spring of 1794. My father is a reverend, and my mother is the daughter of a slave woman who could birth her in freedom.

Since infancy, I grew up and fell in love with Harrison Foredale, the heir of Edgewater Estate, but was betrothed in 1810 to Edmund Marlcaster, son of Henrietta Foredale of her first, tragic marriage.

From a young age, I realised that my talent for talking and having opinions was not an option if I wanted to survive, so I decided to don a mask of a chatterbox that only cared for gossip and status, but without letting go of my romantic nature. Why let go of it in the pinnacle of Romanticism? What a sin that would’ve been.

I chose my friends wisely, and played the game as well as I could. In 1815, my Harry died of a supposed boar attack, and I was now seemingly forced to make my engagement work, though we all knew it was a farce.

On the autumn of 1816, Joanna Foredale, who had been supposedly murdered by the Duke of Karlington stormed the doors with Viscount Harry by her side, everything changed. He claimed his spot as earl back, and he claimed me as his countess, and my, have I never been happier.

During a quiet night where we poured down our hearts, we gave to our burning passion in his bedroom, and that night, our future son was conceived. I still remember how painfully beautiful he looked under the moonlight and the last surviving candle, and how little we needed its flame, for we burned as bright as a comet in each other’s arms, the most beautiful and passionate of loves made into kisses and caresses. How he held me, looked at me and never let go of my hand in the whole night, calling me the most tender and loving names, calling me Tess, his Tess, like he had all his life.

We also had another seven beautiful children: Victoire, Vincent II, Dominique II, Charles, Anne, Lionel and Isobel Foredale.

Many speak of Joanna and her incredible deeds and passion that matches her fiery red head, but they will rarely speak my name: the countess and wife of Harry, who waited for him patiently and hopefully, as well as agonizingly for six years, and got him by a miracle that no one is yet to explain to me.

I am Theresa, the woman who fooled London’s Ton by playing a gossiping and nosy chatterbox, hiding underneath a woman of opinions, aspirations and sensible dreams behind that mask. But that was never a secret to my Harry.

They thought that a woman like myself, of brown skin and chatty and plain as day could ever aspire to countess, and I outwitted them all with patience and being observant. The fickle game of marriage within our high society was not easy, but in the end, I won it with sweat and tears, with rarely having the privileges my peers enjoyed. I am the first coloured Countess of Edgewater to grace its role, and I have done well by my name and status, giving it plenty of heirs and keeping alive its light.

It is my blood that resides in the current earl, yet all they talk about is her, her red hair and outwardly deeds. But I do not mind it. I know who I am, and that I was as relevant. We were sisters, allies and best of friends. She was remembered more often, but I have not fallen into oblivion just yet.

I am Theresa Foredale, the woman who outplayed all the rich, white ladies of Edgewater and got a prestigious status while the other sank. The moment I tied the knot with the earl was the last time I was underestimated.

My name is Theresa, the tattletale who won the game of marriages in London’s Season of 1816, loved by the people, Grandmother of Mayfair and who earned the love of an earl, and this is my story of going from an overlooked and underestimated reverend’s daughter to the Countess of Edgewater and lady of the House of Foredale, and I tell you this; to the little girl, brown of skin and told by the world to know its limits: there is nothing you cannot achieve if you wait patiently and believe in yourself and what you can achieve. If I, in 1816, could become a countess, I assure you, nothing can’t stop you of getting your way.

I may not be the most popular Foredale, but I am most certainly not irrelevant, for without me, a long line would’ve died. My name is Theresa, and it is up to you that you don’t make my years-worth work be done for nothing.

#playchoices fanfiction #desire and decorum #desire and decorum au #theresa sutton #miss sutton #edmund marlcaster #mr marlcaster #harry foredale #viscount harry #viscount harry foredale #harry x theresa #theresa x harry #briar daly #edmund x briar #briarcaster #tw: death mention #tw: grief mention #the cursed heiress

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wordpress-blaze-243800539 · 6 hours ago

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Illigor's Awakening: Shadows of the Moon

As the sun fades and the moon takes prominence in the sky, there is a transition of worlds that takes place across the realm, as day gives way to night. Manglarian doe rest amongst the thicket, and the leaves of Aspens stiffen as they prepare for the cool night air. The familiar calls of a dusted owl echoes through the canopy, heeding warning to the grey tipped stone mouse, who silently prepares for its midnight harvest below. The ancients believed that the winds of night speak to those who know what to listen for. On this particular night, the easterly winds carry word of a familiar face in uncharted territory. Illigor, son of Valinthe and prince of Horain, returns home after a successful hunt, with venison and hide in hand, and with the pace of someone who knows and respects what dwells within the night around him. His arrows in quiver, bouncing to and fro, are all that can be heard, as the trees give way to thick, wild grasses, shoulder height in parts, perfect for hiding anyone or anything who wishes to remain unseen. A hunter of Illigor's experience knows all too well what the scent of fresh venison can entice, and on this otherwise peaceful, spring night of the 4th year of the new age, his immortality would be put to the test.

There was no more than 50 yards of open field behind him when Illigor felt the gaze of another hunter in his proximity. It is a rarity indeed for anyone or anything to catch the Elvish prince off guard, but whoever lay in weighting not far away amongst the grasses, had done just that. His sharpened, astute senses had failed him on this night, perhaps a consequence of the long and arduous hunting expedition he had finished just a few hours prior. It would seem that the recent volcanic activity to the north at Mount Zanedia, has casted a shadow over the land, disrupting the otherwise predictable behavior of wild game surrounding Manglaria. Perhaps this too is the reason for a creature of Malgith's stature to venture into Elvish Territory in search of his next meal.

Whispers carried along the gentle breeze, awakened the prince's need to act. As the prince saw it, there were but two choices to be made, neither would bring absolute success but were nonetheless necessary. Either he drops his bounty and makes haste for the walls of Horain, or draw both bow and arrow, and stand his ground beneath the starlit sky. Illigor chose the latter and did so quickly. As the first arrow left his fingertips, Malgith, a massive blue and gray striped tiger was upon him. Illigor was able to slide and roll to his left, but in doing so, lost all but one of his arrows, making a dire situation all the worse. Without hesitation, the crack of his bow sent with it his last chance of salvation, hitting his target just inches above what would have been the tiger's pounding heart. Malgith's face grimaced, letting out a low, piercing growl, as he leapt and pinned Illigor to the cold, damp ground. What seemed like a millennium, was just mere moments. as Malgith's piercing eyes stared down on Illigor.

This encounter was unfamiliar to both, as never before had Illigor's arrow missed its mark, nor had Malgith hesitated with striking down his prey. Perhaps it was a mutual respect and understanding between the two that had slowed time. Illigor had one hand on the hardened, oak handle of his dagger, a gift from his grandfather, which never left his possession, yet he found himself unable to draw it in his defense. Malgith lifted his immense paw from Illigor's chest, and the elven prince drew a full breath for the first time since he had found himself in this predicament. Illigor, keeping his eyes fixed on the tiger, slowly stood up and motioned towards the arrow that lay embedded in Malgith's side. He took a few steps forwards, the tiger exposed his large teeth, yet stayed remarkable still, inviting the elf to remove the arrow. Another growth and grimace and the arrow was out. Illigor, placed the arrow in quiver and slowly walked backwards, away from the beast. When at a distance, he felt was safe to raise his hand, he performed the Radaterit, an eleven gesture of respect and thankfulness following a successful hunt. Malgith, taking the same paw, he had held Illigor to the Earth with, slammed it into the ground once, then slowly turned and walked towards the forest's edge, disappearing into the night. Whispers carried along the breeze and passed just overhead, as Illigor turned and headed towards his village.

It was not until the next great hunt that the two met again, once as adversaries, now as a newly forged alliance, traversing the forest floor with a remarkable fusion of speed and stealth. Legends say that this unlikely duo of elf and beast, met at the start of each great hunt, in the same field outside of Horain, until Malgith drew his last breath. On the right-hand side of Illigor's neck lies a tattoo of a paw print remarkably similar to the one left by Malgith on that fateful night years ago. As is customary to the immortal elves of Horain, including their prince, many things come and go with the passing of the seasons, yet some things live on forever.

The End

I hope you enjoyed my short story entitled "Illigor's Awakening: Shadows of The Moon." My previous post "Triple 20 Challenge- Revamp Your Routine to Enrich Your Life" encourages you to make time in your day to explore your interests and pursue meaningful endeavors. This story is an example of me doing something I enjoy, which is creative writing. May it inspire you to create a story of your own. If you do, please let me know, I would love to check it out.

Written By: Man With a Plan aka Jeffrey Kalinoski

Source: Illigor's Awakening: Shadows of the Moon

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missmewts · 4 years ago

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prodigy//harry gardener

pairings; harry gardener, she/her reader

rating; pg13

warnings; some harsh language, gendered reader (only because i'm obsessed with the idea of a really powerful woman), proofread very poorly. expect mistakes!

the widow in white and the widow wears red is just a little folk-tale type story that i've been adding to since i was young. there is no actual series, just a little thing that sprouted from my imagination a while ago. also this is more so a bit of an introduction. it may require a part two to include actual harry-on-reader action.

harry had rushed over under the impression that there was some type of emergency. 'CIME NOW!!' was what austin had texted him. he had scrambled to start the car, speeding all the way down to austin's place. however, when he slammed the door open with his shoulder and took three steps at a time, austin was lounging comfortably on the couch, brandy in hand.

you don't have to be a rocket scientist to know that harry was pissed. 'what the hell was that?? are you fucking insane!?'

austin laughed at that, adjusting his blood-colored button up; harry almost laughed. it was so vampire-y that it hurt; blood red button up. tight on the stomach, loose on the sleeves, and a corset-like lace in place of buttons. harry collapsed into the recliner across from him, watching austin put his book aside and fold one leg over the other, his dangling foot tapping his ankle.

' 'course i am. i thought we've established this, hot stuff.' harry rubbed his face, inhaling slowly to soothe his pounding heart. 'okay. okay, well- what.. what was so important that you couldn't have just told me over the phone?' austin bubbled out a bright laugh, resting his arm on the back of the couch. 'well, hare-bear,' he said, grabbing the book he was reading with his free hand.

he placed his finger between the pages he was reading, closing the hard cover over his fingers to show harry the front. 'there's someone i want you to meet.' harry scoffed, standing up and snatching austin's drink. 'and you couldn't have just told me over the phone?' austin raised a dark eyebrow as harry took a drink.

'well, it's only the greatest artist on the pill.' harry laughed sarcastically. 'haha, austin. you're so funny.' austin grinned. he tapped the name of the author on the velvet-y print taped into the hardcover. 'y/n l/n', it said.

'seriously. she took the pill, and boom. a book, and it's sequel. 'the widow in white' and 'the widow wears red'.' harry rolled his eyes, sitting next to austin and holding out his hand. austin dog-earred his page and shut it, handing it over. 'what's so impressive about that?' harry asked, flipping to the back to read the summary.

'two weeks. that's all it took.' austin said, leaning on the outside of his thigh to read over his shoulder. 'only after her book had hit 19 million sales, and had been translated into over 300 different languages, did she continue on with her career.' harry hummed his acknowledgement. it took him less than that to finish his tv series. so what?

'she made two movie adaptations for her books. screenwrote, directed, and casted. she casted herself as the widow in white, athena.' harry nodded, handing austin his book back. 'lin manuel miranda wrote his own musicals, and casted himself as the lead, too.' he said, crossing his arms and folding his legs, his ankle rested on his knee.

'she then made a spinoff series, the darkness becomes her. three seasons. created, wrote, casted, produced, directed. starred.' austin took his book, uncrossing his legs and standing up to put the book back on the bookshelf. he began speaking while he nudged several more of your works out of the way to put book one back in its respective place. 'then, came the diverse adaptations. musicals, plays, modern twists. hundreds of millions of followers on every social media platform. her fan base only grew when she put out more content for different people regarding the same thing. some people prefer books, some prefer movies. some, tv shows, and some musicals.'

harry made a small noise to encourage austin to keep going. his mind was going 70 miles per hour. possibly doris had heard of you? austin eased your musical soundtrack cd back into its spot, before grabbing his glass from harry and refilling it. he stood at the island, grabbing the mixer from the overhead cabinet hanging in the center of the ceiling. he had to talk louder, but harry got up to listen anyway.

'and guess how long that took her, harry.' harry made his impatience known with a loud sigh. 'i don't know. five years.' austin looked up from his glass with a grin. 'nine. months.'

harry's irritation faded. 'nine.. nine months?' austin nodded. 'now, belle and i, we take the muse during the winter. take summers off.' harry nodded, leaning against the counter. 'she takes it year round. we told her she shouldn't, but hey. look where she is now! the greatest artist i've ever had the pleasure of jumpstarting. she mentioned me in every single one of her award speeches. she won fifteen.' harry laughed breathlessly. 'you're lying.' austin laughed. 'nope! and what's better, she's coming back to ol' p-town to gather some new inspiration for her new series.'

harry followed austin as he headed for the living room. 'how much did she make off of those widow stories alone? it's gotta be.. in.. in the millions, right?' austin cast him a cheeky grin. '31 million, 700 hundred, 63. that's how much she made off of the books before she started the adaptations.' harry laughed breathlessly, again. 'that's... that's unbelievable. if she's so popular, why have i never heard of her?' austin waves a finger.

'her stories are more aimed for... women, younger crowds. i have the works of every career i've had the pleasure of partaking in. but.. but her? she's... a prodigy. think of it like this; you know who stephen king is?' harry nodded. 'been a fan.'

'well, imagine that you had never read a book. or seen a movie of his. you wouldn't have a goddamn idea who he is. it's the same thing with her. same with any author. j.k. rowling? as much as i hate the bitch, i've read all her books. she's a great author. had i not grown up on harry potter? i wouldn't know who the fuck she is. maybe your wife has read a book or two. you should ask her.' austin swirls the sweet liquid courage in his cup, before taking a sip.

and so, harry drove home, repeating the name he had seen on the book over, and over. when he got home, doris was in the kitchen. she greeted him, but he shouted out the only thing he could think of. 'l/n!!'

doris gave him a confused smile. 'what?' she asked, as he grabbed his laptop and plopped on the couch. 'y/n l/n. do we have any of her stuff? books, movies?' doris' face brightened. she waddled over to the stairs. 'do we have any of her stuff,' she repeated, hurrying up the stairs as fast as her swollen ankles would allow.

harry took that as a yes.

he threw open in laptop and logged in, saving what work he had left off on and pulling up google. his fingers moved rapidly trying to remember the correct letters. he typed it in wrong, but his trusty search engine didn't let him down. up came trailers for movies, interviews, book readings, musical bootlegs, a youtube channel, social media pages, and award speeches. he allowed the award speech to engulf his screen.

the first sound was clapping, what felt like the equivalent to fireworks. the shaky camera focused on the stage as someone stepped up the staircase. it took a few moments to quiet the audience down, but soon, the speech began. the camera zoomed in when it did. and what he saw was breathtaking. smooth skin, glistening with sweat from the lights, the body heat, and the many eyes focused. hair tied in a low bun, and pitch black gloss painting your lips. he thought the black tuxedo you wore looked fabulous. he hardly paid any attention to the speech. he was waiting for the announcement of austin sommers.

'and finally,' you have a gentle, breathless laugh as you took her another breath to stable yourself. 'austin sommers, whom i consider my dad in this buisness, really. it was austin who put me on the right track. i owe everything i have to him. thank you, austin. thank you guys!' and the audience erupted in more cheers and shrieks. he shut the laptop, turning to look at doris, who was now heading for the living room with a small stack.

'why are we suddenly obsessed with her?' doris asked, rounding the couch and sitting down, placing the two books, two movies, and spinoff dvd between her and her husband. 'well, you remember austin.' doris nodded. 'uh-huh.'

'austin said he helped jumpstart her career. i-i mean, you saw how his help effected her. and- and, doris,' harry leaned forward with a grin. 'doris, he's helping me. can you imagine what this could do for us?' doris' smile widened. 'i'll make popcorn.' she said, as she handed him the first dvd case.

he knew he wasn't going to eat it, but he appreciated the sentiment.

the dvd case had a woman in a beautiful wedding dress kneeling on a dirty floor, before a creature. the light cast only over the back of the woman's dress, but it seemed like some sort of pig creature with horns and wings, of which were outstretched to look like wings sprouting from the woman.

it wasn't like anything harry had seen before. doris had burst into tears several times, and was fast asleep by the time the movie finished. he moved doris' head off of his shoulder and down into a couch pillow, taking your material with him. with alma fast asleep upstairs and doris dozing on the couch, he popped a pill and spent the next hours he had to himself speed-reading through the books. the pages seemed slightly stained, old. when he opened the second book, he realized that it was supposed to be that way. to resemble a piece of parchment back then. he picked up his phone to message austin.

i'll meet her.

#harry gardener #ahs red tide #american horror story red tide #american horror story double feature #finn wittrock #austin sommers #fanfic #harry gardener x reader #ahs #american horror story

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oldbay-on-apples · 4 years ago

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Dystopian Larry Fic Rec

Inspired by some of the lovely people and fic recers on here, I’ve decided to start making my own fic recs. If you’d like, you can request recs in my inbox and I’ll see what I can do <3!

Please read the ratings and tags to these fics (because some of them are dark or have dark themes) and enjoy!

You Try To Be Everything (I Need) by lululawrence - @lululawrence (NR, 36k)

Wars, and rumours of wars, were nothing new for the world in the twenty-fourth century. The fighting had evolved over the years, and rarely did it involve traditional weapons. A group most widely known as the Southern Powers gained strength amongst portions of the western European continent and spread quickly. There was a fight the Southern Powers didn’t expect coming from the north of England, though. Resistance came in the form of an organised underground; a group comprised of people with the Touch that did the best they could to enforce a line that would not be crossed. Slowly, that line was moved from the Channel to boundaries further and further north. It seemed only a matter of time before the Southern Powers took over everywhere. Until that time, people did the best they could to live their lives in some semblance of normality. For Louis Tomlinson, that sense of normality was about to change when his best friend, Harry Styles, goes missing. Louis embarks on the journey of a lifetime where he uses his newly developed abilities to search for his friend, even when it takes him to places he never thought he would see while surmounting trials he never could have imagined. -

I loved the way the magic and technology in this fic intersected in such a unique way and the way the world was built was extraordinary!

red hands by reveries_passions - @dystopianharry (T, 132k)

I’ve never told anyone,” Harry murmurs, voice so soft no one else would be able to hear, if it wasn’t just the two of them. “But you’ve told someone,” Louis says firmly. “And that’s not gonna fucking happen around here. You don’t speak a word of it, or someone’s going to kill you, and we can’t let that happen.” * a dystopian au in which harry, an ex-soldier who’s escaped from his government run camp, accidentally stumbles across the biggest rebel movement in the country, and louis, one of the rebellion’s mysterious leaders who appears to hate him, seems to simultaneously have an obsession with keeping him alive. or: harry is wanted for treason, niall hasn’t changed in four years, liam is always smiling, and louis is angry. like, really angry.

- The plot of this is just *chef’s kiss* in so many ways! I love the way the characters interact with each other and I’m weak for Niall and Harry’s friendship in this.

Love After the End of the World by writing_practice - @mercurial-madhouse (E 158k)

“Wait. Just so I’m clear in me fucking noggin,” Niall says. “An international worldwide takeover is well under way and the only thing standing between having hot showers and a second end of the world is us five fuckers?” ----- Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda. When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

This just came out in the most recent Big Bang (that’s still on going so you should definitely check that out) and this fic is so amazing! I think it does a great job of just really immersing you in the world the characters exist in. Love After the End of the World is also a Soulmate AU and I love the way those parts come together. It also has an amazing prologue called PROMETHEUS RISING (M 5k) that I enjoyed immensely set in the same world!

at last, at last by suspendrs - @suspendrs (NR 41k) Locked

“Come with us,” Tommo says, stopping at the other end of the gymnasium, near the doors. “Don’t let them make you suffer any longer. Come with us, and be human.”

Before Harry has even finished thinking it through, he’s on his feet, gaining the attention of every single person in the gymnasium. What has he got to lose, anyway?

Or, Harry is born into a cult in a post-apocalyptic world, and Louis is the leader of the rebel group tasked with the mission of shutting them down. Together, they make a rather effective team.

This fic does a great job of making you feel like you’re experiencing with the characters, like I could practically smell what the characters were smelling! The world it’s set in is so cool and the entire fic feels so well thought out and everything is so consistent!

my love will never leave you by we_are_the_same @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (T 10k)

In a world where memories are used as currency, Louis will do anything it takes for Harry to get better.

I loved the idea behind this. Like the entire world is so brilliantly done! And it was all based on ONE word (because of the wordplay challenge). Even though it’s set in a different world everything feels so grounded and realistic and I really really like that about it.

a prayer for which no words exist by Eliane (M 34k) Locked

"Louis is a few seconds away from blowing up a rather important section of the New York subway when he sees Harry for the first time."

In this fic the characters motivations are so clear (to the reader) and I love how it goes from Louis accidentally sort of, kind of, kidnapping Harry to them becoming friends then more. I also love how no matter where they are the fic has a real sense of place. This is part 1 of landscapes of war. The entire series is really good!

Who Painted the Moon Black by throughthedark (E 95k) Locked

“People died,” Harry whispers so quietly Louis strains to hear. “People died, and I killed some of them. How does life just go on after something like that?”

Louis shakes his head. “I don't know. It just does.”

Hunger Games AU where Louis Tomlinson is district six's victor from the 69th Hunger Games and Harry Styles is district seven's victor from the 72nd Hunger Games.

This fic is a hunger games AU that both people who have and haven't read/watched the Hunger Games can enjoy. I like how it explores the world of the Hunger Games in a way that isn’t explored in the Hunger Games canon. It’s really intense (like the E is for the darker themes and violence) and I enjoy it a lot. There is a happy ending (as the author assures in the tags) and I really enjoy all the struggles that the characters go through.

Nobody Marks You by graceling_in_a_suit @graceling-in-a-suit (T 33k)

“The plan is: we’re gonna put on a play. Now, I see some doubtful faces–” Louis looked around and found zero doubtful faces. Liam looked intrigued, Zayn looked bored, and Harry looked scarily blank. “But this is what’s happening. We’re gonna do some fucking acting, we’re gonna perform our hearts out, and we’re not going to think about anything else. The past, the future; none of it. All we’re going to think about is... “ Niall trailed off, eyeing the bookshelf to his left. He closed his eyes and reached a hand out towards it, running his fingers over the covers before pulling a book out at random. “William Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing.”

AU: Five assholes stuck in a bunker put on a play.

This is one of my absolute favorite fics. I just love the way the characters interact and they way the story is told. It’s nonlinear so you jump around in time and it shows the way the character's relationships change throughout. I’m a sucker for Much Ado About Nothing and though you don’t need to read it to fully appreciate the fic I think the use of the play throughout is genius.

@1dfanfictionbookcovers has a really cool cover for the fic as well HERE

With a whimper by kitundercover @kitundercover (M 132k)

Dystopian AU. Louis has been alone for too long to remember how not to be, and Harry has too much to worry about to deal with a scrawny, wild, stranger.

---

The man grips his arm tightly. “You’re not going to say anything.” It’s not a question.

Louis shakes his head, his body twitching.

“Fine.” Large green eyes survey him before letting go. “It’s cold. Take this. Wear it.”

Louis can’t help another flinch as the man’s long scarf is wrapped around his tender neck, it’s still warm. He touches the soft material. “Thank you.”

The man bears his teeth. “Don’t thank me. Don’t ever thank me.”

The thing this fic does really does is showing emotional reactions. Louis’ inner monologue is so well done and I really like the plot of the story.

these bountiful silences by tommoandbambi (T 123k)

they live in a world where they can only say four words per day. harry meets some people that don't want to live that way.

I really, really, really, like this plot and the story! The world that the characters exist in is so interesting and I just love the way in which it is a dystopia.

#my fic recs #Dystopian Larry fic rec #Larry Fic Recs #Dystopian Fic Recs #fic recs

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quintalon · 4 years ago

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The Lovers of Fiction mini-fest has been revealed!

I am ecstatic to share these amazing stories and gorgeous artwork created by some insanely talented writers and artists. A huge thank you to everyone who participated!

Or We Could... by mcal

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott

Rating: G

Summary: Theo hates being broken up for the sake of their jobs. Rages against the thought of not even being *friends* with Hermione

....Maybe there’s another way...

Reader, I Married Him by Lostinthenightrain

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

Rating: T

Summary: “Why must you?” he questioned as he pulled himself forward, using the rough pads of his fingers he gently touched under her chin, dragging her gaze to his own. “You know why!” She wrenched her chin from his grasp. “You are to be married, Malfoy.”

Buffy-inspired Dramione kiss by Blessedindeed

@bookloverdream-blessedindeed

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

Rating: N/A

Summary: For QuinTalon’s “Lovers of Fiction” Fest— the assignment is to use the Buffy-Spike dynamic & make it Dramione. This is one of my favorites! Thanks for checking this out! (((hugs)))

There Was a Moment by storyofeden

@storyof-eden

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape

Rating: T

Summary: Severus wasn't stupid, and he'd done exactly what the book said. Hermione loved the moonflowers, and she certainly wasn't dating Cormac McLaggen.

We're leaving now, Princess! by lilhawkeye3

@lilhawkeye3

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

Rating: G

Summary: Princess Hermione isn't one to leave a fight, but Draco has other ideas.

The Woman by beautyberry

@beautyberrywrites

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott

Rating: M

Summary: A Theomione take on the (in)famous Sherlock/Adler scene from the BBC series.

*This artwork contains a naked female backside*

The Ambition by In_Dreams

@indreamsink

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

Rating: M

Summary: After ten years at sea, Captain Hermione Granger has a ship and a crew of her own. But one of her new crew mates is a blacksmith from her past. Dramione Pirates AU.

Lanky Brunettes with Wicked Jaws by Lostinthenightrain

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

Rating: M

Summary: “You’ve got types?”

“Only you darling.” He put his hand under her chin and brought her around to face him. He pulled her close with his arm held tight against her. His head to the side of her own, he grinned. “Lanky brunettes with wicked jaws.” A gentle kiss placed against her jaw. She smiled, a blush prettying her cheeks as she pulled back.

The Dragon's Moving Castle by SlytherinHermione

@her-co

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

Rating: T

Summary: Hermione Granger had accepted that her life wasn't going to be a great big adventure.

She wasn't particularly beautiful, or interesting, and she hadn't been born with magic like her sisters. Really, she was just as plain as could be.

One day though, a castle was seen rolling around the hills near her town.

Not long after, she met a strange, handsome, and mysterious man.

And she was cursed by the Wicked Witch of the Wasteland.

Perhaps life was an adventure after all.

As My Witness by Klawdee

@klawdee890

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape

Rating: E

Summary: Overcome by the names, the casualties Lee Jordan lists via Potterwatch, Hermione excuses herself to the Grimmauld Library for a private moment to mourn, her mourning accidently interrupting someone else’s solitude. No one other than that wretched stoic Professor Snape, of course. Comfort, argument, and smut ensues. Hermione of age!Takes place after Hogwarts. AU.

3 Words, 8 Letters by sodamnrad

@sodamnradd

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini

Rating: T

Summary: “Do you like me?” Hermione recognizes a smitten wizard when she sees one. Just because Blaise has been making her feel wretched recently, doesn’t mean she hasn’t been admired by other men in the past. Draco’s flitty looks, his tart remarks about her feelings for Blaise, the way he’s following her around instead of chasing an eligible witch who isn’t pining over his friend is extremely telling.

“Define like.”

Her mouth unhinges. No effing way. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“How do you think I feel?” He glares at her. “I haven’t slept. I feel sick like there’s something in my stomach, fluttering.” He presses a hand against his belly, as if he’s experiencing the sensation at this very moment.

“Butterflies?” she deadpans. “No. No, no, no this cannot be happening.”

“No one is more surprised or ashamed than I am.” He gestures to himself, lifting his chin tersely.

“Draco, you know that I adore all of Earth’s creatures and the metaphors that they inspire,” she says as her hand forms a crushing fist, “but the butterflies have got to be murdered.”

The One Where Everyone Finds Out - Dramione Edition by Annav94

@annavek94

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter

Rating: T

Summary: Don’t we all know what happened when Phoebe finds out about Monica and Chandler in season 5 of Friends? Well, what would then happen if it was Draco and Hermione to be discovered by Pansy? Would then Theo try to calm her down, in the hope that she would stop screaming so his boyfriend (Harry bloody Potter, of all people) would be prevented from finding out about them is such crude way? And would Blaise go along with the scheme the two Slytherins would come up with to push the new couple to expose itself or will he be done with all the ‘pretending’ of not knowing, when he knew all along?

I Meant Something Like That by CharliPetidei

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley/ Blaise Zabini

Rating: M

Summary: “You know what’s funny?” said Hermione, crossing her ankles and leaning forwards on the slightly peeling leather sofa. “When I first saw your advert online… I thought you were Hufflepuffs.” The three men opposite her exchanged glances, and then the tall, platinum blond one (it had to be dyed, right?) with the funny name leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. Draco, that was it. “You thought we were what?” A New Girl Dramione AU.

[ART] Outside the TARDIS by sunflower_swan

@sunflower-swan

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

Rating: G

Summary: All of time and space. Where do you want to go?

Jitters by TheMourningMadam

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

Rating: M

Summary: My prompt was Jamie and Claire Fraser from Outlander. If you have never seen Outlander, why not? You at least need to watch their first time to see some hot and bewildered Jamie. This is a tiny snapshot into what would be a much larger story, so please take it at face value.

~~~~

See the whole collection here!

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master-sass-blast · 4 years ago

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This Life is Infinite: Chapter One.

OH YEAH. IT'S TIME, BITCHES!!!

Summary: The Infinity War Fic aka I do whatever the fuck I want with the Russo's canon.

Get ready for the most ambitious crossover in CHC history.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin, and Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin.

Rating: M for canon typical violence and death threats.

Word Count: 10k... oops.

Set after "Children of the Gods: Part Three."

Author's Note: Tentatively, I’m back from my hiatus. Things are nowhere near settled with my mental health, but I’m feeling well enough to post again.

I think it mostly goes without saying that updates for this series might be a little irregular going forward; not only do I need to take care of myself, but I also need to find a better balance with posting fanfiction and the rest of my life. As always, I will do my best to be clear with you all about what to expect in terms of updates and wait times.

Thank you again for your compassion and understanding.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

It’s not every day that mysterious, leather-clad men appear –quite literally, considering they teleported in—in your kitchen unannounced.

(Okay, perhaps they don’t qualify as “mysterious” when one of them is your dad, one of them is your brother, and the third is your uncle, but there’s a fourth man with them that you don’t recognize, so you like to think that the principle of the expression remains intact.)

You glance between Nate, Wade, your uncle, and the aforementioned unrecognized fourth man, then lift the box of cereal you’d been pouring into a bowl by way of greeting. “Breakfast?”

***

(The fourth man, as it turns out, goes by the code name “Kronos” –which, in terms of super cool code names, ranks at about an eight.)

“There’s a war coming,” Nate explains while the four of you stand around your kitchen counter. “Apocalypse is stirring. He’ll be sending his allies to Earth to initiate the first stage of the war, so that he’ll encounter less resistance when he comes to rule.”

“‘s called ‘The Decimation,’” Wade interjects as he shovels spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth. He points at his bowl, then jerks his head at the fridge. “D’ y’all have chocolate syrup?”

“Yeah, second shelf on the door.” You take another bite of your cereal, swallow, then ask Nathan, “What… what happens with ‘The Decimation?’”

“One of Apocalypse’s allies, Thanos, will arrive with his armies and generals. He’ll use his own forces to annihilate the heroes of Earth, then he’ll finish assembling the Infinity Stones and gauntlet and use them to wipe out half of all life across the cosmos.”

You purse your lips together and eye your dad warily. “If… if this was anyone other than you saying this, I’d say this all sounds like a hackneyed comic book and-or movie plot.”

“His information checks out,” Kronos says, voice low and gravelly. “Our cross-temporal intel confirms communications between Apocalypse and Thanos. We might have a few weeks to prepare for Thanos’s arrival –and that’s if we’re lucky.”

Wade snorts and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “handwavey bullshit” under his breath.

You look to your uncle. “And you’re here because…”

“Need to talk to Xavier,” your uncle answers, “and then alert the Avengers and anyone else that can help us face Thanos.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “And you stopped here first because…”

“I was hungry,” Wade blurts as he drizzles more chocolate syrup on top of his cereal.

“You have credibility,” Nathan says while shooting Wade an equally annoyed and endeared look. “Xavier and Piotr listen to you, and the rest of the X-Men listen to them. We can’t afford to deal with a bunch of hesitating and infighting right now. We need to get our shit together and defeat Thanos, or the world as we know it is fucked.”

“Question.” Wade lifts his spoon. “Does Donald Trump die in this decimation bullshit?”

“We’ll deal with him later,” your uncle stage-whispers to Wade.

“If you’re all sure…” You wait for all four of them to nod, then sigh and shrug. “Alright. I think most of the X-Men are training right now. Let’s go talk to them.”

***

“This all sounds fucking insane.”

Wade gasps. The eyes on his mask widen as he lifts a gloved hand to where his mouth is under his mask. “James Doohan used a no-no word! My goodness gracious golly!”

Scott Summers scowls, but otherwise ignores Wade. He turns to the Professor, expression incredulous. “Do you believe… any of this?”

Xavier grimaces. “Our sources through Kronos” –he gestures to your uncle’s colleague—“have been confirming the intentions of Apocalypse for several years now. The difficulty was always in determining when Apocalypse would act, and in which timeline –though, now that we have Cable’s intel, we’ve been able to figure those two details out.”

“If Thanos is as powerful as you’re saying,” Ororo pipes up, looking at Nathan, “then how are we supposed to defeat him?”

“Any way we can,” Nathan fires back, expression grim.

“Our intel says that Thanos only has three of the six Infinity Stones, along with the gauntlet,” Kronos adds. “If we can keep the last three stones out of his hands and defeat his armies here on Earth, we’ll have better odds of facing Apocalypse down the road.”

“Right,” Jean says. “And where are the last three stones?”

“The Mind Stone is in the possession of Vision, an android created by Ultron, who now works with the Avengers,” Kronos explains. “The Time Stone is in the possession of Doctor Stephen Strange, who leads an order of sorcerers and magic users in New York. The Soul Stone… has yet to be located.”

“And we’re sure that Thanos is coming here?” Ororo asks, brows raised in skepticism.

“One of the unifying features across the pertinent timelines is a battle that takes place on Earth, specifically in the country of Wakanda,” Kronos answers. “Regardless of the other features in the timeline, there is always a major confrontation between Thanos and the forces of earth there.”

“Great,” Rogue deadpans, expression flat. “Now we just have to convince them to let us in. ‘Excuse me, your Majesty T’Challa, but there’s an evil spaceman that is collecting all powerful rhinestones and he’s going to come here to try and wipe out half of all life on Earth, so we need you to let us into your country with strict visitation policies to we can help you fight him.’ Yeah, that’ll go over real well.”

“We don’t have time to waste on sarcastic bullshit,” Nathan grits out, cybernetic eye flaring as he glares at Rogue. “We’ll handle getting the Avengers and Wakanda on board,” he says, turning to the Professor. “I take it we can trust you to get your team and Magneto collected?”

“I’ll contact Erik,” Xavier promises before looking over at your husband. “Piotr, would you mind calling your family? I believe, given the severity of the coming conflict, having as many hands as possible would be in our best interests.”

Piotr nods. “Konechno –of course.” He looks up at you from where he’s sitting, confusion clear in his sky blue eyes—

“You good to come with us?” Nathan asks, tapping your shoulder lightly to get your attention. “We’ll need help talking to Stark.”

“Huh? Uh –yeah. Sure.” You look back at Piotr; the request to ask for five minutes, just five minutes, to talk to your husband is on the tip of your tongue—

Nate tugs you –gently—a couple inches closer, then says, “Bodyslide by five.”

The room blurs, then disappears from view.

***

You’ve only bodyslid with Nathan a handful of times –and each time you do, you’re always caught off guard by how fucking weird it feels.

Your stomach lurches like you’ve just gone down the steepest drop on a rollercoaster, even though the ground remains steady beneath your feet. In a flash, there’s a brand new room in front of you –sleek, monochromatic cabinets, white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances and fixtures, the works. The space oozes sophistication, function, style –and money. So much money.

Given everything you’ve heard about Tony Stark, it makes sense.

“Deep breaths,” Nathan says. He places a steadying hand on your shoulder while you blink rapidly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

You do your best to comply –though it’s a bit difficult, given that your brain is shrieking ‘sensory overload’ while trying to adjust to the new lighting, the new sounds, the sensation of having moved without really having moved at all, at least in the sense of walking or riding in a car—

And then alarms start blaring. Red lights flash, klaxons go off, the works.

Wade swears and claps his hands over his ears. “Christ! For a guy who has literal robots that can wipe his ass with dollar bills, you think he’d invest in something a little easier on the ears!”

“Wilson!” The klaxons and red lights cut out, replaced by various whirring noises and the sound of hurried, angry footsteps. “I swear to God, if you’ve hijacked one of my jets again, I’m gonna –who the fuck are all of you?”

Tony Stark looks… nothing like what you see in the papers. Granted, his face and hair look largely the same, but he’s not wearing the crisp, stylish suits that all the magazines, articles, papers, and interviews feature him wearing. He’s got on a worn, holey Metallica shirt, ripped, grease stained jeans, and a pair of scuffed sneakers that look like they might’ve been purchased ten years ago, for all that they’re barely holding together.

The army of security bots hovering and whirring around him, however, do fit his press image.

“Jon Snow!” Wade chirps, waggling his fingers at the harried “genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist.” “Long time, no talk. How’s Daenerys doing?”

“Summers, would you do me a favor and put your psychopath on a leash?” Tony asks, tone less than polite or pleasant as he focuses on Nate. “Preferably a nice short one that’s far away from me?”

“We’re here to talk,” Nathan says –though he does stop Wade from trying to play with the knives in the block on the kitchen counter. “It’s a matter of life and death. The well-being of the entire universe is at stake.”

“Yeah, been there, done that,” Tony says, looking none too impressed.

“One of your colleagues may have mentioned his name,” Kronos interjects, taking a step forward. “Does the word ‘Thanos’ ring any bells?”

Tony’s expression sobers for an instant, but he hides it quickly enough. “This is private property, and you’re all—”

A red being with a green suit and a yellow gem in the center of his forehead emerges from the floor. He places himself between Tony and the rest of you. “Would you like me to escort them out, Mr. Stark?”

“Ah, Casper the Friendly Android with No Concept of Personal Boundaries Despite the Infinite Knowledge!” Wade fires back, waving cheerfully. “How you doing, twenty-twenty?”

Vision sighs, longsuffering. “You have been expressly forbidden from these premises, Mr. Wilson.”

“Unless he’s here under my direct supervision,” Nathan fires back. “Stark, we need to talk about this—”

“Tony?” A tall, elegant woman with red hair wearing a tailored, navy blue dress walks up behind the man in question. She flashes you all a polite smile, but there’s no missing the way her gaze cautiously assesses each one of you. “I’m guessing these aren’t –oh. Wade’s here.”

Wade waves in response. “Hi, Miss Potts! How’s being a CEO?”

“It’s going very well, thank you,” Pepper replies politely –though, this time, she’s scanning the room for missing objects and-or visible damage. When nothing turns up, she looks back at Tony. “Are we escorting them out?”

“They claim to have information about the end of the world,” Tony says, tone flippant –though the grave expression on his face belies his snark. “About Thanos.”

Recognition flashes over Pepper’s face, though her polite mask never fully slips. She nods, then says, “Are we going to listen to them?”

“Probably should,” Tony replies in the same lackadaisical tone. “I’m not turning off the security drones while Wilson’s here, though.”

“Just for that, I’m pissing in your Ficus before I leave,” Wade huffs.

“That seems like it’s for the best,” Pepper tells Tony, smiling going tight at the edges while she stares at Wade. She takes a breath, steeling herself, then steps past Tony and nods at the rest of you in greeting. “Sorry for the confusion. Would you mind coming with us, so we can talk somewhere more comfortable?”

***

“I started connecting the dots after Thor left,” Tony explains, twirling a pencil between his fingers as he paces back and forth. “He mentioned Thanos briefly –but with the destruction and repurposing of Loki’s staff, the straggling records of Dormammu’s attack and the use of the Time Stone by Strange, the roles that the Tesseract and Loki’s staff played in the attack on New York by the Chitauri…” He sighs, pausing to stare out at the window at some unseen object before grimacing and shrugging. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

You’re all gathered in a conference room –which, as with the kitchen, carries the same modern, sleek style. Floor to ceiling windows show off the training grounds and the forest that conceals the base from the rest of the world. A massive plasma TV takes up one of the far walls, while the other walls are taken up by various dormant, holographic and electronic displays (made by Stark himself, no doubt). A black, oblong table sits in the center of the room, with leather, silver studded swivel chairs positioned around it.

“How many are there?” Tony asks, looking first at Kronos, then at Nathan. “How much time do we have?”

“There are six Infinity Stones in total,” Kronos says. “Thanos already has three –the Space stone, which was contained by the Tesseract, the Reality stone and the Power stone. Your colleague, Vision—” he gestures to the android “—is in possession of the Mind Stone already, and Stephen Strange has the Time Stone. Our agents have been unable to confirm the whereabouts of the Soul Stone, but we’re certain that Thanos doesn’t have it.”

“Yet,” Tony adds, tone pessimistic.

“As far as time goes, we have a few days at most,” Nathan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe a week, if we’re lucky.”

Tony grimaces. “That doesn’t bode well for rebuilding international relations on a dime. Or team morale for that matter.”

“Sort it out,” Nathan gravels out. “We’ve got bigger issues.”

“We won’t have time for issues if we can’t even pull a team together,” Tony snaps.

“If it helps…” Kronos withdraws a flash drive from his jacket pocket and holds it out to Tony. “The evidence of Thanos’s collection of the stones and his plans to come here.”

Tony accepts the flash drive. He turns it over in his fingers a couple times –no doubt mentally comparing the drive to the technology he’s created—then pockets it. “And Xavier’s on board with all this?”

You blink when you realize everyone’s staring at you. “Uh –yes. He’s contacting Erik Lensherr for some additional support, and the rest of the X-Men are ready to take on Thanos as well.”

“Great.” Tony stares down at the table for a moment, expression slightly melancholy but otherwise inscrutable, but then he snaps back to his usual self. “Good meeting. I’ll text you with the details.”

“Ooh, does that mean we’re trading numbers?” Wade gasps, pressing his hands on either side of his face. “I’ll put you on my favorites list.”

“I’ll contact Xavier,” Tony amends, shooting Wade a slightly harried look.

“We’ll be ready,” you assure him, at a loss for what else to say as you hook your arm around Wade’s to keep him from messing with the holographic display system.

“Vision will escort you out,” Pepper says with a polite smile and nod.

“I’ll make you a friendship bracelet, Tony the Tiger!” Wade calls as you and Nathan gently usher him towards the door. “Wait –stop shoving me! I need to get his wrist size!”

“Later, gorgeous,” Nate says with a barely suppressed smile.

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh, but the stony foreboding weighing down your gut makes it too hard to even muster up a chuckle –especially when you catch Tony slumping down into one of the conference room chairs with a despairing expression on his face. You force yourself to focus on getting Wade out of the Avenger’s headquarters without stealing anything –though that does little to calm your swirling thoughts. How in the hell are we gonna pull this off?

***

“Are you okay?”

You sigh, instinctively wriggling back against Piotr’s chest as he lays down behind you. “Define ‘okay.’”

It’s nearly midnight now. Between contacting other allies for help –Nathan had you all bodysliding around New York for the better part of the day to reach out to the Hell’s Kitchen figures—and learning up about Thanos’s army and what could be expected in a confrontation against him, you didn’t get home until well after dinner.

You’re in bed now, too tired for anything else. You stare out the windows that overlook the balcony, purposefully trying to keep your mind blank so you don’t grow overwhelmed by the chaos buzzing in your brain.

Because this is insane. This is beyond mutant trafficking or petty grievances between groups of mutant rivals or even being gunned down by the mafia. This is beyond abusive parents, groups of hateful bigots, or anti-mutant legislators.

It’s –quite literally—the fate of the entire world. The entire galaxy. Based on Nathan’s reports of the future, half of all life is wiped out. People, animals, plants –all gone, dissolved into piles of ash… and for what? So some egomaniac can have his moment of glory?

Your stomach curdles when you even try to contemplate a life without Piotr.

“Hey.” Piotr draws you in close when you start crying. “Tische, myshka. Everything is okay.”

“But it’s not.” You sniff, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. “Nothing about this is fucking okay, Piotr. Someone’s gonna wipe out half of the damn universe because he wants to jerk off to it later.”

“He has to go through us, first,” Piotr reminds you as he presses soft, sweet kisses against your cheek.

“We don’t have the numbers,” you point out bleakly. “We don’t have the ammunition. We don’t have the time to make a solid plan, or to prepare any extra defenses, or—”

Piotr hugs you tight. He kisses the top of your head. His hand strokes up and down your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

You grip his other hand, holding him close to you. You focus on how warm and solid he is. How wonderful he is and how lovely your life is with him. “I love you, Piotr.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and cry some more.

***

The call comes in at five thirty in the morning.

“Stark’s brought around the other Avengers and Wakanda,” Nathan says, sounding far more alert than you ever will at this godforsaken hour. “We’re lifting off at seven.”

“Roger that,” you manage while Piotr turns on the bedside lamp and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. “We’ll be ready.” You set down your phone when the call ends, then groan and drop your head into your pillow. Why can’t the end of the world ever happen in the afternoon?

***

The Blackbird jets are loaded to maximum capacity. Aside from carrying the X-Men and the X-Force exclusive members, you’re also ferrying the Hell’s Kitchen vigilantes, Piotr’s family and Allison, your uncle and his team, and the younger children and their parents to Wakanda for safe-keeping (your uncle’s reasoning was that an enemy of the institute might notice the sudden lack of protection and decide to attack the younger, more vulnerable students and their families for vengeance, so it was better to be safe than sorry).

You keep close to Piotr or to the cockpit, but there’s still no avoiding the tense, cramped feeling.

You’re not the only “birds” in the sky, either. It’s practically a whole convoy, flying out to Wakanda in what might’ve been a formation if Wade didn’t occasionally grab the control and try to do a “barrel roll.” Magneto and his forces are flying in their own airship, while the Avengers are leading their pack in Tony’s custom, “cutting edge of technology” jets.

You watch the small fleet of jets that belong to the Avengers, lips pursed into a tight line. Your gaze darts over to the navigation board every few seconds, tracking your miniscule progress across the Atlantic Ocean towards Wakanda.

There’s a heavy sigh behind you, and then an even heavier pair of arms settle around your shoulders. “Myshka. You should rest.”

You “hmm” softly to let Piotr know you heard him, but you don’t step away from the cockpit door.

He kisses the top of head and starts gently rubbing your neck with his thumbs. “Will be several hours before arrival, dorogoy. There is nothing you can do until then.”

“It feels like wasting time,” you murmur back –because, naturally, Piotr’s seen to the heart of the issue already. “We’ve got so much to do.”

“And we can do nothing until we arrive in Wakanda.” Piotr kisses your temple, then gently nudges you away from the cockpit. “Come sit with me, lyublyu. You will need full energy when we land.”

And that, above all else, is the only reason you let Piotr usher you over to the nearest seat.

You crawl into his lap once he sits, curling up in his arms. You lay your head on his shoulder and let his warmth combined with the gentle thrum of the jet’s sonic engines lull you to sleep.

***

Wakanda is simultaneously everything and nothing like what you expected.

There’s a force shield that surrounds the inner part of the country that gives way as the convoy of ships pass through it. It almost seems to shimmer out of view before revealing an elegant, shining palace and curved, glimmering towers that comprise the larger part of the city. Lush jungle and towering, ice-capped mountains border the city, split by a winding river and rushing waterfalls.

It almost looks too beautiful to be real.

The awe-inducing visuals and technology don’t stop as the convoy flies out to a glittering, black glass structure that, on the navigation board, is labeled as the lab of Princess Shuri. The convoy swoops around to a massive hangar at the base of the building, landing just inside on the polished stone and metal floor.

Waiting for all of you in the hangar is King T’Challa Udaku; he’s wearing a black robe embroidered with silver thread and a vibrant kente scarf, and generally looks every bit as poised and unflappable as he did in the UN interviews. He’s flanked by his Dora Milaje soldiers –who are undeniably badass with their armor and spears, and you catch Ellie, Yukio, and Kitty all staring at the women in awe—and his partner, Nakia, and his sister, Princess Shuri.

Tony and Professor Xavier handle the introductions with the King, which lets you stretch and take in the hangar and throngs of superheroes. You recognize a few of them –Captain America aka Steve Rogers, Ant-Man aka Scott Lang and his entourage --including a man with dark hair styled like Elvis that you recall seeing in some sort of news interview a while back and a young woman with curly brown hair and warm eyes that’s holding his hand-- and War Hero ,aka James Rhodes, aka Tony’s best friend and “work wife”—but some of the entourage members are new to you.

You take a moment to stretch out your back –sleeping in Piotr’s lap isn’t the worst quality rest you’ve ever had, but given the configurations of the jet seats it was a little cramped—and admire the glimmering, inlaid lights on the hangar ceiling. Swanky.

“We have space prepared for the upcoming preparations and hosting all of you,” T’Challa says, voice cutting through the din of the crowd with ease. “If you would all follow Princess Shuri, please.”

Shuri smiles, then motions for everyone to follow her out of the hangar.

Half of the Dora Milaje break away from the formation, keeping a protective line between the princess and everyone else.

You fall into stride alongside your husband, well-practiced by now at matching your steps to his long stride.

***

The “prepared space” winds up being three massive rooms, each with smaller rooms sectioned around the main spaces, a kitchen-slash-rec area that joins the three massive rooms in the center, and three large, communal style bathrooms with multiple stalls for toilets and showers. The main rooms have several long, workstation style tables at them, with some beds stationed at the fringes, and the smaller rooms function only as bedrooms, mostly for the families with kids and the handful of couples present.

“This interface,” Princess Shuri says as she taps on a small disk embedded into the wall, “will let you contact security and staff if you have questions or need to speak with someone. There’s one in each room, for easy access. It will begin glowing and beeping if someone’s trying to send a call to you; you answer by pressing the base,” she explains, demonstrating on the disk.

“We’re expecting another group of people,” Tony pipes up. “Strange is collecting some of our allies from the South Eastern Quadrant. They should be here in the next sixteen hours, give or take.”

Shuri nods. “We’ll contact you when they arrive.” She offers the group a magnanimous nod and smile, then strides out the hall you all entered through, flanked by the Dora Milaje soldiers.

For a moment, no one moves. You all stand around, hesitating as you all try to take in the new scenery and space.

Alex moves first. She sighs, then grabs her duffel and strides towards the nearest workroom. “No point in waiting.”

Her initiative seems to jolt everyone else out of their daze. Everyone sections off, largely sticking with the groups of their original affiliation.

You amble alongside Piotr, peering around the workroom as you try to decide where to set your pack. Here goes nothing.

***

We’re staring down the apocalypse, you muse as you watch everyone set up shop, and it’s all coming down to sewing machines.

It’d come as a shock when Alexandra had lugged the sleek, white machine out of its carrying case. She’d set it on one of the tables, then lifted bolts of thick, rugged Kevlar out of one of her duffels next. Thread, scissors, measuring tape, and gridded cutting boards follow the Kevlar—

And then the sewing machine jammed as soon as Alex turned it on.

“Ty meshok der'ma,” Alex mutters under her breath as she fiddles with the internal mechanisms of the sewing machine. She glares at the gears, grumbling and swearing while she prods at them with a pair of tweezers. “Kakogo khrena tvoya problema?”

The situation seems mundane in its inanity.

The end of the damn world, and we’re being thwarted by twenty pounds of plastic and metal.

“Day mne poprobovat'.” Nikolai crouches down next to his wife. He adjusts the reading glasses perched on his nose, then aims a small flashlight at the interior of the machine. He murmurs and tuts in Russian while prodding at the machine –and then he makes a soft noise of exclamation. “Broken needle. Pryamo tam.”

“Sukin syn.” Alex uses her telekinesis to draw out the metal shard, then lets out an exasperated sigh and spreads her arms when the machine finally makes the proper start up noises. “Thank you.”

“Be nice,” Nikolai chides her with a teasing grin. “Is uncomfortable, having metal stuck in organs. You would not want to work either.”

“I’ve had metal in my organs,” Alex grumbles as she gets her sewing machine configured. “I still managed.” She smirks when Nikolai laughs, then kisses her husband’s cheek before motioning for you to approach. “Come here, ptitsa. I want to reinforce your suit; I need your measurements.”

You round the table, shucking off your sweatshirt so Alex can measure your torso. “Is there anything I need to do?”

“Just hold still, malenkiy,” Alex murmurs as she runs her tape measure around your waist.

“I make no promises,” you joke.

Alex snorts, then moves her measuring tape up to your ribcage.

***

The waiting is, somehow, worse now.

At least on the plan there was a promise of a destination. A sense of the temporary, that you’d be up and moving and doing again within a few hours.

Unfortunately, reality is so often different from how you envision it, just as it is now. Because the reality of the situation is that there are only a limited number of people capable of helping. Nate and Tony are working with the Princess to configure weapons to fight Thanos’s forces, Hank and the healers are preparing a makeshift medical bay, Frank, Wade, Mikhail, and Neena are cleaning and checking guns, Alex, Piotr and Nikolai are taking turns working on fabricating armor for those who need it—

Leaving you with nothing to do. Aside from keeping those who are working well fed and hydrated and managing the kids, all you can do is sit and watch while everyone else prepares.

It’s agony. Your chest aches from stress, and your stomach’s churning so much you can barely choke food down at mealtimes. I need to help more. I need to do something, dammit.

It’s like being in line for random execution and having no idea whether you’re going to be shot or not.

You stay close to Piotr. You run food and snacks and drinks for anyone who needs it. You help manage the kids when the need arises –but since most of their parents are here, the incidents are far and few between.

You sit. And you wait.

It’s all you can do.

***

“Absolutely not.”

“You need to be reasonable.”

“I am. It’s perfectly reasonable to keep a fourteen-year-old off a fucking battlefield!”

Alex sighs. She leans back in her seat and raises an eyebrow at her eldest daughter. “Normally I would agree, but I don’t think you’ll have much say in the matter. Your ability to control her is notably lacking.”

Artemis huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You try reining in a teenager who’s realized there’s no consequences to her actions.”

“I’m not judging, merely observing,” Alex assures her daughter. “But, at any rate, it’s not unreasonable to predict that she’ll join the fray at some point. Body armor is a necessity.”

“It’s an invitation! She’ll take it as permission!”

“Artemis?” Allison sticks her head into the room, then strides over to her mentor-slash-surrogate mother. “Is everything okay? Who’s getting permission to do what?”

“No one is,” Artemis grumbles, even as she holds her arm out so the teen can lean against her side. “Especially not you.”

Allison lets out a disgusted sigh and rolls her eyes. “I already told you—”

“You’re not fighting.”

“I can handle myself!” Allison snaps. She jerks away from Tatianna, scowling. “You’re treating me like a baby!”

“Compared to me, you are a baby,” the older woman points out drily.

“It’s not your burden to bear,” Alex interjects, fixing the testy teen with an even –though not harsh—stare. “Teenagers shouldn’t have to fight for the future of the world. That’s for adults to handle.”

“No one gets to decide,” Allison grits out, “what my burdens are. And this isn’t about ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t.’”

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitches. She looks up at Artemis, brows raised.

Artemis sighs. She tips her head back, staring up at the ceiling, then looks down at Allison. “You need body armor to keep you safe. That does not mean, however, that you’ll be joining us in the fight against Thanos.”

Allison sweeps her tongue along the inside of her cheek. She crosses her arms and cocks her head to the side. “Pretty sure you don’t get to decide that.”

“Pretty sure you should listen to me,” Artemis fires back, “since I have more experience and am telling you that it’s too much for you to handle.” She lets out an exasperated breath when Allison rolls her eyes, then waves her hand dismissively as if to say ‘I tried.’ “Get her set up.”

Alex nods, then waves Allison over. “Alright, malenkiy. Let’s get you sorted.”

***

“Are you asleep?”

“Nyet.” Piotr rolls over, drapes an arm over you, and kisses your forehead. “I would ask you the same, but…”

You manage a small chuckle. “Pretty obvious answer, yeah.”

The two of you are in one of the private rooms –if only because (aside from your status as married) it has a bed big enough to accommodate Piotr. There’s a small window that overlooks a cavern beneath the lab. Dim, blue light seeps through the glass pane, but it’s not enough to properly illuminate the room.

Piotr’s fingers skim over your upper arm. “Why are you not sleeping, myshka?”

“Can’t,” you admit, voice wavering. You take a deep breath through your nose and try to calm yourself. “I just… I can’t handle not doing anything. It gives me too much time to think about what might happen.”

Piotr croons gently, drawing you in closer so he can tuck you against his chest. He cradles your head with one massive head. “Dorogoy. You know such things are not good for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” you grumble, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Doesn’t mean that knowledge stops my brain any.”

“Ya znayu,” Piotr murmurs as he kisses your temple. “But everything is going to be alright, myshka.”

“Except it really might not be,” you argue, voice shaking. You grip the material of his shirt, as though he might be wrenched away from you at any moment and whisked away into the wind. “It really might not, Piotr.”

Your husband doesn’t say anything in response to that. He merely holds you closer still and strokes his fingers through your hair.

You press your forehead against his chest and start weeping quietly.

***

The second day is much like the first –a slow, agonizing crawl punctuated by overwhelming anxiety and exhaustion.

You linger at the table where Nate, Tony, and Ellie are modifying guns, handing the three various tools and materials when they ask for it. You watch their progress numbly, brain devoid of anything other than wordless worry.

At least, you watch until Nate texts Piotr to come get you.

“Davay, myshka,” your husband coaxes as he lifts you off your stool. He grunts slightly as he shifts you into a bridal-style hold, then carries you away from the table and out of the room. “Let’s have lunch.”

“But—”

“Is important to stay fed and hydrated.”

“—I was helping.” You peer past Piotr’s arm –then sigh when Nathan gives you a sympathetic, concerned smile and waves you along. “Baby—”

“Just for little bit.” Piotr sets you down when you ask, but he keeps a hand on your shoulder, just in case. “Is not good to sit and stew in anxiety.”

You drop your gaze to the floor. “You can’t prove anything.”

Piotr lifts his hand from your shoulder and cradles your cheek. He strokes his thumb against your skin, waiting until you look up at him before speaking again. “Come have lunch with me, moya lyubov’,” he says with an adoring smile (which you’re certain is a deliberate, tactical move on his part to make sure you don’t try and argue, and dammit if it isn’t working). “I would enjoy your company.”

You scuff the toe of your sneaker against the floor, but ultimately acquiesce. “Alright. I guess I should take a break.”

***

The snooping starts after lunch, while Alex is chewing Frank out for spray-painting his bullet proof vest.

“What, are you looking to ruin perfectly good Kevlar?” Alex gripes as she tosses Frank’s “Punisher” vest aside. “You want to break down the material? Get shot out like some schmuck because you decided to be an artist?”

“It’s strategic,” Frank argues with a good-natured, crooked grin. “Keeps my enemies’ line of sight trained on where I have the most protection.”

Alex nods and makes a sarcastic noise of assent. “‘Strategic.’ Is that what it is? Ya ne mogu v eto poverit'. V moye vremya my nazyvali strategiyu pobedoy, a ne stavili svoyu grebanuyu vizitnuyu kartochku na kazhdoye sovershennoye nami proklyatoye ubiystvo. Get your ass over here, drama boy.” She scoffs and starts measuring Frank’s chest and shoulders. “‘Strategiya,’” she scoffs. “What a load of horse shit.”

“Akh akh,” Nikolai tuts as he walks into the room with a plate of food and glass of water. “What is happening here?”

“I’m pretty sure I upset the apple cart, sir,” Frank says, unabashed.

Nikolai chuckles while Alexandra brings up to speed, ranting in irritated Russian. He sets the plate and glass on the table next to his wife, kisses her head, then ambles back out to the kitchen—

And that’s when you notice it. Or, rather, her.

Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow. Renowned spy, assassin, weapons and espionage expert, and former member of the Avengers if the debacle surrounding the Sokovia Accords is to be believed.

She’s sitting at the kitchen counter on barstool, tapping away at her phone –which isn’t inherently suspicious, but her line of sight lets her look directly into the room you’re all situated in and—

She’s watching Alex.

At first you think she might be watching Frank (which, fair enough, having a mass murderer, somewhat unstable vigilante around is a reasonable cause for caution). But when Frank gets up and walks out (probably to go find Karen), Natasha doesn’t even move. Her gaze –when she’s not looking at her phone—stays fixed on Alexandra while she works at her sewing machine.

For once, you’re grateful Piotr is as large as he is; he makes a great hiding spot to do countersurveillance from.

Natasha approaches slowly, but deliberately. She talks to someone on her phone –whether she’s faking or not doesn’t matter to you, because she still uses it to get off the barstool and amble around while she’s talking. Then, she has a conversation with Captain Rogers, which she uses to get a few feet closer to the doorway.

At some point, you’re not certain if she realizes you’re watching her, only because she gives up the pretense of trying to hide her snooping entirely. She leans against the doorframe, watching Alex intently while she marks, pins, and cuts out fabric.

It’s Illyana who has enough of the whole thing first. Three minutes into Natasha standing in the door way, the blonde sighs, sets her phone down on the work table, and glares up at the red head. “Kakogo khrena ty khochesh?”

Natasha purses her lips slightly. She acknowledges Illyana with a brief glance, then turns her focus back to Alex. “Alexandra.”

“Natalia,” Alex says by way of greeting, not even bothering to look up from her work. “Are you here to help, or are you here to waste my time?”

She grimaces, but recovers and smiles politely. “It’s been a long time.”

“So, you’re here to waste my time,” Alex surmises as she pins a pattern to a piece of heavy black Kevlar.

Natasha swallows reflexively, then turns on her heel and walks away.

***

Half an hour later, it’s Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes’s turn.

The two supersoldiers are far less covert than Agent Romanoff. They stand in the middle of the rec room, a few feet away from the door, and don’t make any attempt to hide their conversation or the fact that they’re watching Alex (and, to some extent, her children and Nikolai as well).

Illyana says something to her mother a few times, but Alex waves her off –and, in general, seems unbothered. “U nas yest' rabota, snezhinka. U nas yest' rabota.”

“Did you know him?” you ask, later, when the Rasputin kids are out of the room. “The Winter Soldier?”

You’ve heard enough through the grapevine to know about the basics of the man’s story –captured by Hydra, experimentation, brainwashing, being coerced into murdering.

(It all sounds chillingly familiar.)

“We crossed paths,” Alex admits with a shrug. She slides a piece of ceramic armor plating inside a Kevlar pouch, then starts sewing the pouch shut. “Overlap was common back in the day.”

“Do you think he remembers you?” you murmur, glancing out at the kitchen (fortunately, Rogers and Barnes are gone for now).

Alex pauses. She purses her lips, then shrugs and resumes working. “I don’t know. He went through a lot with the forced mind wipes. There’s really no way of knowing.”

“Are you going to be in trouble if he does remember you?”

Alex huffs and favors you with a gentle smile. “I’ve gotten out of worse, ptitsa. Don’t worry so much.”

You say that like it’s easy, you think while the knot in your stomach coils tighter.

***

There’s a brief reprieve around dinner. You even manage to relax a little, smiling and chuckling as Piotr and Mikhail bicker and generally irritate each other as much as humanly possible.

Work starts up once more as soon as everyone’s done eating. You nestle yourself against Piotr’s side, relaxed via the virtue of being too tired to be stressed—

And then Tony Stark walks in.

Or perhaps “walk” isn’t the right term. He moves with an air of grandeur and utter self-assurance –which, even with your limited exposure to Tony Stark, you can tell is a “brand standard” for him. He tosses an apple up and down in one hand as he breezes along, expression blasé to the point of looking disinterested as he strides up to the table where Alexandra works.

If it weren’t for Natasha, Captain Rogers, and Sergeant Barnes scoping out the Rasputin matriarch earlier, you would’ve pegged Stark’s visit as entirely coincidental.

“What’s your deal?” Tony asks, leaning against the table next to where Alex is stationed at her sewing machine.

No pretense. No niceties. No attempt at subtlety.

Alex’s lips quirk into an annoyed grimace. She looks up and over the top of her machine for a moment, staring at Nikolai (likely trying to find any scrap of his infinite patience for herself), then lowers her gaze once more and says, “Usually, it’s not answering vague, pointless questions asked by nosey individuals.”

“You’ve got half my team twisted up just by being here,” Tony continues, unruffled. “I’ve seen Romanoff stare down the Hulk on a rampage without flinching. What about you is so special that you make her nervous?”

“Interesting,” Alex comments, almost to herself. “And here I thought, after the Berlin incident, your ‘team’ was largely disbanded. Something about ‘not agreeing with your leadership.’”

Tony’s face twitches, mouth briefly stretching into a pained grimace before he smooths it back out. “You don’t exist.”

“Everyone’s concept of self is different,” Alex mutters as she rips out a crooked seam on an armor pouch.

“There’s no record of your birth. Or your parents, for that matter. Your marriage license has no given maiden name. No history of education, doctor’s visits, driver’s license –nothing until you turned twenty-four.” He takes a bite of his apple, swallows, then says, “People don’t just ‘poof’ into existence as full grown adults. It doesn’t happen.”

“Perhaps,” Alex retorts as she resews the faulty seam, “you are just not very good at finding things.”

“I can find anything.”

“Except, it would seem, a way to keep from trying my patience.”

Tony watches her for a moment longer –then, when she doesn’t say anything, he turns and starts striding out of the room. “I’m going to figure out what’s up with you. There aren’t any secrets that can hide from my A.I.”

Alex doesn’t dignify his departure with a response –but her eyelid twitches as she continues her sewing.

You look up at Piotr, only to find he’s watching Nikolai. You look over at the Rasputin patriarch, and your heart sinks when you see the worried expression on his face.

Nick sighs, then stands and rounds the table. He ambles up behind his wife, drapes his arms around her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head before he starts murmuring to her in quiet, loving Russian.

You lean against Piotr’s side, giving him a reassuring squeeze even though the only thing you feel is disquieted. You force yourself to take a deep breath and relax your jaw as fear starts crawling up your spine once more. One thing at a time. One thing at a time, that’s all you can do.

Except, it seems, when everything decides to happen at once.

***

Meeting the Norse god of thunder is… intense.

Though, that may have to do with the entourage of people he brings with him.

Around three in the morning, Dr. Strange shows up with the remaining allies –Thor, god of thunder, and his brother Loki, god of magic, Bruce Banner aka the Hulk, a woman by the name of Carol, and a group that calls themselves the “Guardians of the Galaxy” (which happens to include a talking raccoon and a sentient tree).

“Just when you thought, like, it couldn’t get weirder,” Kitty mutters to you as she stares at the newest arrivals.

You nod. Granted, your usual metric for all things weird is Wade, who has basically explored every avenue of zany, bizarre, and disturbing—

But yeah, this is pretty fucking weird.

“Where do we stand in preparations for the arrival of Thanos?” Thor asks Tony.

“We’ve got most of the busywork done,” Tony says, outlining the weapons upgrades and the armor work that’s been done. “We waited for major planning until we had everyone here and better intel.”

Thor nods, then gestures to two women standing with the “Guardians of the Galaxy,” one with green skin and dark hair and the other with blue skin and cybernetic enhancements. “This is Gamora and Nebula, daughters of Thanos. They’ll be able to provide information on the strength and size of his forces.”

“Good,” Steve pipes up from where he’s standing with Sam Wilson and Sergeant Barnes. “The sooner we have a plan, the better.”

“It can wait until we’ve slept,” Alex decides, voice crisp. “We won’t come up with anything good while we’re fried.”

Tony blinks, then scowls. “Thanos could be here as soon as this coming morning.”

“Then we’ll be doubly fucked if we’ve stayed up all night trying to scrape together a plan,” Alex replies, unmoved. She crosses her arms when Tony glares at her. “The younger and less experienced of us need rest if this is going to work.”

“I’m with the lady,” Quill pipes up, brushing past Tony. He gives Stark a smile that, if you had to wager, is supposed to be charming but just comes off as arrogant. “I think you’ll find that we… don’t really roll with plans. It’s not our style.”

Alex stares at Quill for a moment, expression vastly unimpressed. She sighs, blinks slowly, shakes her head, then turns on her heel and strides back to the room she’s been sharing with Nick. “Absolutely not. I’m going back to bed.”

As if waiting for a cue, everyone else disperses, muttering about being tired and “needing an IV drip of espresso.”

You shuffle off with Piotr, hand in hand, shivering slightly from nerves. Please just let this go well.

***

“Both the Chitauri and the Klyntaar forces number into the tens of thousands. The Chitauri have sentient airships capable of carrying infantry forces while wreaking their own havoc, in addition to chariots that can carry up to five marksmen at a time. He also has tanks the size of this building that can demolish anything in their path.”

Everyone is gathered in one of the main work rooms. A majority of the people present hang back at the fringes, content to watch while Tony, Captain Rogers, King T’Challa, Alexandra, your uncle, Thor, Quill, and Natasha hash out a strategy.

“He’s trying to overwhelm us with sheer numbers,” Steve says in response to Gamora’s information.

“It might work,” Natasha murmurs, gaze focused on the worktable in front of her. “We don’t have near enough firepower to chip away at that many grunts.”

“Not if we play our cards right,” Alex says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“There’s also our siblings,” Gamora adds with a pained grimace.

Off to the side, Nebula scoffs. “They’re hardly family.”

“Thanos collected beings throughout the galaxy to serve him,” Gamora explains. “To act as his eyes and ears and eliminate his foes. Aside from Nebula and I, he has four other ‘children.’ They’ll be acting as his generals and commanders in the fight –and helping him track down and capture the final infinity stones.”

Tension ripples through the room.

“What do we know about these Infinity Stones?” Alex asks after a moment of fraught silence.

“The stones were originally created by the Celestials,” Loki pipes up from where he’s leaning against a wall. “Their magical properties are tied to aspects of the universe –time, space, reality, and so on. Only beings of immense power can wield them without severe consequences.”

“Thanos has the gauntlet that accompanies the stones,” Thor adds. “With it, once he assembles all six stones, he’ll be able to use them simultaneously.”

“He wants to wipe out half of all life on Earth,” Gamora says, voice wavering slightly. “That’s been his single goal ever since I’ve known him.”

“All men want to be gods,” your uncle jokes half-heartedly.

“Can the stones be broken?” Alex asks.

Loki chuckles, incredulous. “These are magical tools created by the most powerful beings ever known to the galaxy… and you want to break them?”

She shrugs. “Best not to overlook the simplest solution.”

“I’m taking that as a ‘no,’” Steve interjects. “So, if we can’t destroy them, how do we fight them?”

“The only thing powerful enough to combat the effects of the Infinity Stones are the Infinity Stones,” Loki answers.

“And we only have two,” Natasha surmises, expression drawn and grim.

“Three.”

Everyone looks up and turns when Illyana speaks.

She smirks, tilting her chin up when Natasha meets her gaze. “We have three Infinity Stones.”

“Vision has the mind stone, and Dr. Strange has the time stone,” Kronos argues, shaking his head. “The soul stone is still missing.”

Illyana’s smirk broadens. She lifts her hand, curling it as if she was holding something.

A sword materializes in her hand –and in the center of the sword, small but unmistakable, is a glowing orange gem.

Your uncle’s eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

“Three,” Illyana repeats, looking supremely confident and self-satisfied. “Unless there is elusive seventh stone?”

Loki smiles ruefully, shaking his head. “The Goddess of Limbo pulls through. Well done.”

“Okay, but Vision’s stone is in his head and Strange has his stone in a necklace around his neck,” Tony interjects, gesturing to each person in turn.

“Amulet,” Dr. Strange mutters under his breath.

“Your stone disappears if you’re not holding it,” Tony continues, pointing to the sword as Illyana dematerializes it once more. “What’s stopping Thanos from finding it and taking it?”

“I am only person who can use Soul Sword,” Illyana says, arching her eyebrows. “It is bound to me until the next in my line is ready to take my place.”

“My family has been bound to Limbo’s magicks for generations,” Nikolai clarifies when Tony starts sputtering. “Illyana is the keeper of the sword, which means only she can call upon it. Thanos would need our blood to have access to it.”

Tony grimaces. “Still risky.”

“Better than nothing,” your uncle fires back.

“We have a shot of taking down Thanos with the other three Infinity Stones in our camp,” Steve says, planting his hands against the worktable's surface. “Without them, we’re as good as sunk.”

“Well then,” Alex says, smirking. “Let’s make sure we don’t waste our opportunity.”

***

“For the love of god, stop talking.”

“I’m just saying,” Quill starts, spreading his hands in a defensive gesture.

“You’re not saying shit!” Alex snaps, lifting her head from her hands to glare at him. “You’re just wasting our time!”

Once the planning started, a large portion of the crowd dispersed to help wrap up the last of the weapons modification. The leaders from each faction stayed behind –Tony, T’Challa, Steve, Natasha, Thor, Peter Quill, Xavier, your uncle, Alexandra, and Erik—to plan, along with Gamora, Nebula, and Loki so they could offer up information on Thanos, his forces, and the Infinity Stones.

You’d also hung back, since you didn’t have the skills necessary to do the weapons modification. If all I can do is sit around like a nervous lump, may as well do it where I won’t be in the way.

“This plan just isn’t our style,” Quill argues, either immune or completely ignorant to the exasperated sighs and death glares the others are giving him. “We like to take things looser, add a little pizazz.”

“How many times did your parents drop you as a baby?” your uncle asks, staring Quill down. “No, I’m serious,” he adds when Quill glares back at him and opens his mouth to argue. “I’m genuinely at a loss for how you can be this fucking dense.”

“We’re up against overwhelming numbers and powers no one here has ever seen, let alone fought against,” Natasha adds. “We need to allocate our resources carefully if we want even a chance at victory. The three wave strategy is our best chance.”

“Okay,” Quill says, pressing his hands together. “I think we just all need to relax—”

“You’ll be pretty fucking relaxed when I gut you,” Alex grumbles as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Look, the way I see it, Thanos can’t take us all at once!” Quill reasons. “If we hit him with everything we have—”

“We have to survive his armies, too,” Tony adds, words clipped. “Or there won’t be any of us for Thanos to be hit by.”

“No.” Alex glares at Quill when he keeps trying to argue, startling him into silence. “Look at them.” She points at Gamora and Nebula. “These are your friends, da? Your teammates and companions, da? This is their abuser we’re facing. If we lose, what do you think happens to them? Do you think someone that wants to destroy half of all life will have mercy for them? Hm? If you care about them, you pick the plan that has the best shot of ensuring their safety. Got it?”

Quill swallows reflexively. He stares down at the holographic display of the future battlefield, jaw working. He exhales through his nose, slow and stuttered, then nods. “Alright. We… we do the three wave strategy.”

“So glad we can agree,” Alex says, turning her attention back to the battlefield schematic. “Now, we were discussing where to put our snipers…”

***

“—I need both their arms. Trust me, it’s the only way this is gonna work.”

“Look, I’m normally all for a little dismemberment, but I don’t think forming our own amputee league is gonna net us a win here.”

You shake your head as Wade banters back and forth with the talking racoon –whose name is Rocket, apparently—then look over at Nathan. “How long have they been at this?”

“Going on three hours now,” Nate replies. A soft, endeared smile flits across his face when he looks at Wade, but his expression sobers when he resumes his soldering job. “How’s the final plan looking?”

“Everyone but Quill was leaning towards a three-wave tactic.”

Nathan grunts. “Yeah, he seems like a jackass.”

“Alex threatened to gut him.”

“Hey!” Wade shouts, sounding genuinely wounded. “No disemboweling without me!”

“Quill wanted to do an ‘all for one’ attack directly on Thanos.” You sit down next to your dad, studying his face while he works. “You’ve actually fought against these people before. Do… do you think dividing our forces up will actually work?”

“The issue is the land and air forces,” Nathan says, shaking his head. He attaches a power unit to the base of a rifle, then starts welding the compartment shut. “This time doesn’t have the necessary shielding to repel the Chitauri and Klyntaar forces for that long. We’ll have to fight the grunts; holding some of our people back to make sure we have someone to take on Thanos is our best bet.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll win, though,” you point out.

He offers you a melancholy half-smile. “That’s war, kid.”

Your heart sinks further. “Do we even have a chance?”

“Statistics says we do,” Nathan says he strips a piece of wire before threading it into the gun.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nathan sighs. He looks at you for a long moment, then says, “I think we have the best shot possible with what we have right here, right now.”

You gulp, then nod. It’s still not technically an answer to your question –let alone a positive one—but…

You’ve learned that, sometimes, it better not to dig at these sorts of questions at all.

***

“We’re dividing our forces into thirds.”

You’re all crammed into the rec room post dinner. In the center of the room, by the counter, Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Alex are addressing the crowd in turns.

“The first wave will consist of high stamina fighters and snipers,” Steve says. “There’s a shield system that extends several hundred kilometers around the lab’s perimeter. Wakandan soldiers will join the line of snipers who will pick off any of Thanos’s forces that make it through the shields.”

“We’ll also have any fighters with enhanced stamina on standby, in case there’s a larger breach,” Alex adds. “Their job will be to protect the sniper line from being overrun by the enemy forces.”

“The second wave will be air support,” Tony continues. “Myself, Rhodey, Wilson, and any flying mutants will head out when the Chitauri airships come in. Princess Shuri has a fleet of attack drones at the ready, which can be manned from headquarters in the lab. HQ will have a complete look at the battlefield; all intel will be coming from them during the fight.”

“Third wave is everyone else, save for Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision,” Natasha says. “We’ll join the fray when the second wave of Thanos’s forces arrive. The final three” –she nods to Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision in turn—“will wait in central headquarters until Thanos arrives, to prevent early capture of the remaining Infinity Stones.”

“In the meantime,” Tony says, “we’re going overtime on modifying rifles to be sonic weapons. They’re more effective against the Klyntar forces than regular firearms. All hands on deck. If you can’t solder, you can run supplies back and forth and help perform diagnostic tests at the firing range. Clear?”

Everyone nods, then breaks off to start working on constructing and testing more “awesome guns.”

You slid your fingers between Piotr’s. Your heart’s in your throat, racing a mile a minute. Your mouth feels dry.

If you were the religious type, you’d start praying. As it is, you make a plea with the universe on the off chance it decides to listen to you –for once.

Please. Please just let this work.

***

“So… about the three-wave plan—”

Tony slams down the compartment piece he’d been working on against the table. He glares at Quill, face strained with barely constrained rage and impatience. “What the fuck is your deal?”

“It’s just not sitting well with me,” Quill continues, leaning against the table. “I’m more of a ‘solo moment’ style person. More of a lone wolf.”

You gape at him. “You… you work with a team of five!”

“I just think that there needs to be a more focused confrontation with Thanos. Y’know, for someone to challenge him, man to man—”

“Some get this idiot out of my face,” Tony snaps, looking around for anyone that might be willing to assist –or, at the very least, drag Quill out of the room by his jacket collar.

“You’re not listening to me!”

“You’re wasting my time!”

“Why does every problem come back to you?” Alex stalks into the work room, eyes glowing a dull shade of copper as irritation takes hold in her. She strides over to Quill, looking like a menace in black leather and Kevlar. “How much more of a nuisance can you possibly make yourself?”

“I’m just pointing out some flaws in the strategy!” Quill argues, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m being the devil’s advocate!”

“You’re pointing out dick,” Agent Barton, alias Hawkeye, points out from the side (where he’s modifying some of his arrows to release sonic pulses).

“Look,” Quill presses on, ignoring Clint’s comment. “We need to make sure this thing is airtight—”

“We don’t have time for ‘airtight,’” Nathan growls, cybernetic eye flaring. “The goal is to survive, not to create perfection.”

“I really just think—”

Alex scowls –and then her hand snaps out and closes around Quill’s neck. She slams him against the edge of the table, sneering down at him while he coughs and claws –futilely—against her iron grip. “You’re past the point of being a nuisance. You’re a fucking liability.”

Quill wheezes, face slowly turning red.

“If I was paid every time a man like you told me how to do my job…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out a sardonic chuckle. “Let me make something clear to you, Peter Quill.” Her hand tightens around his neck, which makes some ominous creaking noises as she presses against layers of tissue, cartilage, and bone. “I am not about to have an asshole like you risk the lives of my children, the people who are putting their own lives on the line to protect the world, or the future of the damn universe. If you’re going to keep being a jackass about this…” She smirks. “I’ll kill you. I’ll do it right here, right now. I am not going to have a hazard like you on my team or on that battlefield.” She grins nastily, leaning in closer as Quill’s eyes bug out. “Best thing is, no one really knows you’re here. No tracks to cover, no family to pay off, no authorities to worry about. You’d be an unfortunate casualty in war. No one would fucking miss you.”

A chill runs down your spine. You gulp, stomach twisting as you look from Alex, to Quill, to Alex again. Is anyone going to stop her...

“I really don’t know how to make this any fucking clearer, but since you’ve proven to be thick-headed, I’ll summarize: you stray from the plan in any way, and you’re dead. Got it?”

Quill nods hastily. He gasps when Alex releases him, collapsing to the floor. He hacks and coughs, one hand rubbing at his throat while his skin slowly fades away from an angry magenta color.

“So glad we understand one another.” Alex smirks, then turns on her heel and strides out of the work room like nothing even happened.

You purse your lips, trembling while everyone goes back to work like nothing even happened. You try to focus on sorting pieces into containers for the fabricators to grab from, but with your shaking hands it’s near impossible. You duck your head, gritting your teeth together as your stomach churns angrily. I just want this all to be over.

***

The call comes in a couple hours later.

“We’ve got temporal disturbances outside the shield perimeter,” Kronos shouts while alarms blare overhead. “Thanos’s forces have arrived and are attempting to break through to our location.”

Your stomach drops as everyone starts scrambling. You grab your flight jacket and goggles, throwing them on haphazardly. You start running towards the hangar –then stop and switch directions. “Piotr!”

He pauses when he hears your voice, turning and catching you as you leap into his arms. He kisses you briefly –desperately—then pulls back and cups your face in his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You give him a quick hug, then pull away and start sprinting towards the hanger where the rest of the air support is gathering. Tears sting your eyes, but you wipe them away and force down your fear and preemptive grief. Focus. You have to focus.

It’s time.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #nathan summers x wade wilson #alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin #kitty pryde x illyana rasputin #aka my 'fuck you' to the russo bros #get ready for some big canon divergence #i am literally just doing whatever the fuck i want #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

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