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wickedmilo · 3 years

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BASEBALL AND SPIDER MONKEYS | MILO & ORION PART 1

PLACE: Orion’s house TIMING: 11:12 PM SUMMARY: Orion hosts a vampire movie night to help Milo feel better about the changes in his life WRITING PARTNER: @3starsquinn CONTENT WARNINGS: Some brief NSFW humour

Milo wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. Rio wasn’t the type to lie, and had been pretty clear about living in a large property alone. Maybe he was developing trust issues, because standing in the kitchen now, staring out at the expanse of space, he felt guilty for ever doubting his friend. It was a large property, a nice one too. He was glad he had somewhere decent to stay. If anybody deserved that, it was Orion. The fact that he had put himself on the line, had created such a permanent rift between himself and Dani, for the sake of keeping him safe… it was something he still considered when he allowed his mind to wander. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to be able to repay him, though showing up for movie nights felt like a pretty good place to start. He had a sneaking suspicion Orion had organised this particular watch party in an attempt to make him feel more grounded, to make him feel more at ease with his new life… or death. But he was really hoping his company had something to offer Rio in return. It must get lonely sometimes, such a big house with nobody in it.

Turning his attention back to the popcorn as it began to pop in the microwave, he leaned heavily against the kitchen counter. The smell was already overwhelming, but he had been the one to insist. It wasn’t a movie night without popcorn, and something about the mundane routine was incredibly comforting. “So,” he said, turning briefly to Rio who was sitting beside him on the kitchen counter. “What did you say was on the list?” Still watching the timer as it continued to count down the seconds, he used his fingers to tick off the list of franchises he had been given by his friend. “Twilight, of course. But you said The Vampire Diaries, right? Specifically episode one? Did you make this list? Or did you steal it from a teenage girl’s tumblr account? Be honest with me.”

Sitting on the counter, Orion listened to the microwave’s buzzing as the kernels slowly started to pop. For once, the sound of the microwave and the distant sound of the pool filter wasn’t the only thing to keep Rio busy. He wasn’t sure anybody had been in the house to hang out with him since Skylar had left. It was such a relief to have somebody occupying space in the kitchen with him again. Even if this was only temporary, it was worth it. For just today at least, he wouldn’t feel so alone in this house. “Stop looking like that.” Rio warned, catching his eyes as they floated around the place, “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not a real housewife or whatever those rich people shows are. All of this was purely by chance. And it’s not mine. I’m just staying here for now.” Rio smiled, but he truly didn’t want Milo thinking the wrong thing. He didn’t know why he hated the idea of people thinking this was actually his house, but something about it felt wrong. Like he was living a facade. It was partially true, but not because of this house.

“Not necessarily in that order.” Orion checked his phone for the list he had compiled. Most of the media he had never consumed himself. His parents had never been fond of their children watching such inaccurate depictions of supernatural creatures. They didn’t want Athena and Rio to get the wrong idea of what they were weak to, but more than anything else they didn’t want them romanticizing the idea of what they considered monsters. Clearly, something had gone wrong along the way with Rio. “I did my research from multiple sources.” Rio countered, not necessarily disclosing where those sources came from. “I never got to watch this stuff growing up, so I’m going in just as blind as you. But I have seen some scenes from Twilight. Personally, I think it could have been worse.”

Milo laughed, unable to help himself. “I’m not looking like anything.” He insisted, holding up his hands in surrender. “I am, however, wondering who your sugar daddy is and how I can get in on the action.” His eyes were shining with mischief as he teased Orion. He knew his friend wouldn’t mind, and sometimes he just made it so easy. “Oh, because the order is important?” He asked, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Trash is trash, Rio. Sometimes you just gotta sit back and enjoy it.” Pulling open the door to the microwave as the alarm began to sound, he shook the bag of popcorn before emptying it into the bowl he had ready. His fingertips burned with the heat. It was strange no longer needing to worry about that. “Multiple sources being tumblr?” He raised his eyebrows, chewing absentmindedly on a piece of popcorn. The taste was pretty close to how he remembered it, only dull, and one note. Wrinkling his nose, he took another piece for the sake of it.

“Wait, you never got to watch vampire movies?” He had wrongly assumed Rio’s childhood largely consisted of vampire movies, and scary supernatural YA. It made sense considering what he was, what his parents were hoping he would grow up to become. Realising that may not be true was a reminder of just how much he didn’t know, just how much they still had to talk about when Orion was ready. If Orion was ready. “Wouldn’t that be like… homework for you?” He was genuinely curious to know. He hadn’t been allowed to watch much TV because his own parents had made it very clear they wanted him to study in his free time. But surely watching shows about the supernatural, learning about the supernatural, was studying for a hunter. “I guess we’re in it together then. Maybe we should start with Twilight after that glowing review.”

“I know you’re joking and that you don’t actually think I have a sugar… dad.” Orion scrunched his nose at the thought of saying the word. He didn’t have the emotional capacity to have a relationship like that. “It was a very specific and weird order of events that led to me being here. Including but not limited to my parents sucking, invading a girl’s privacy, getting attacked by a man eating watermelon and eventually the only person I’ve ever dated and I breaking up.” He was shortening events obviously, but this provided a very small glimpse of the life that Rio never disclosed to Milo at the comic book shop. They had never talked much about personal lives there, avoiding it altogether to chat about comic books instead. “My sources prefer to remain undisclosed.” He crossed his arms and pouted, abandoning Milo in the kitchen with the popcorn to head to the living room.

“It’s not really considered homework when it’s not accurate.” Rio spoke normally, but figured Milo would be able to hear him from where he was in the kitchen. Rio started setting up the tv to get their first pick of the night ready. “Not to say all of them are inaccurate, they all get a little bit right. But they thought it would do more harm than good.” Rio still found time to watch a few when he could. Whether it was through the movie theater or at the Scribrary when he not so formally moved in there. “Besides, vampires were never my families focus anyways.” He nodded in agreement with Milo on the movie pick and found the movie, starting it up before pausing, “Ready when you are.”

“But am I joking though?” Milo teased, laughing at the term Orion chose to use. “You can say daddy, you know. It isn’t going to kill you.” He laughed again, surprising himself with how easily the sound escaped him. Hugging the bowl of popcorn to his chest, he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so at ease, couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so warm. “Was the specific order of events signing up to a sugar daddy website? Going on a date? And then securing a sugar daddy?” Falling silent when Rio began to elaborate, he was reminded not for the first time of just how strange his life had been. Nobody who hadn’t grown up with the supernatural could ever drop a carnivorous watermelon into the conversation as though it was on the same level as a break up. “Huh, no kidding about the complicated…” He muttered, deciding not to ask any further questions. He didn’t want to bring the mood down, but he also didn’t want to make his friend uncomfortable. There was a time and a place for serious conversation, and the start of a trashy movie marathon didn’t feel like either.

Chewing on another piece of popcorn, he didn’t immediately follow Rio to the living room. Instead, he took the time to enjoy the moment, observing the mundane aspects of the kitchen, and appreciating them in a way he never had before. His life had been turned upside down, for a month before meeting Harsh he had spent his time between the abandoned buildings, the streets of town, and the woods. No kitchens, no bathrooms, no comfortable living space. It felt good to be back, to be grounded again. Listening to Orion as he explained why his parents had kept him away from certain shows and films, he could almost understand the logic. Not knowing whether Hunters had hearing on par with his own, he finally wandered into the living room to reply. “I guess that makes sense… though I can think of a few films that would probably help if they were trying to make you see these people as monsters. I mean basically every horror movie ever, let’s be real.” Raising his eyebrows at the mention of vampires not being the family's focus, he set the popcorn down on the coffee table. “Oh, yeah?” He asked, dropping onto the couch, making himself comfortable without any kind hesitation. Couch surfing in the years before his death had left him more than capable of relaxing in other people’s houses. “Do I want to know what your family’s focus was?” Nodding towards the screen, he let Rio know he was ready without potentially interrupting an answer to his question. There was still so much he needed to learn.

“I really feel like it could kill me. For my own sanity I’ll just avoid saying it altogether.” Milo was saying the word daddy way too many times for Orion’s sanity. Was this what Rio had set himself up for when he stayed in Skylar’s house? Sugar daddy accusations? The idea might be a bit less shocking if normal, no strings attached sex didn’t terrify Rio to his core. He couldn’t even sleep with his ex, who he adored. He couldn’t say he was surprised when Milo didn’t ask for any elaboration. Life here was complicated. They wouldn’t actually get to watch anything if they waited around for Rio to tell his life story.

“They had plenty of stories all on their own.” Rio remembered his parents' stories vividly. They spared no detail of the gore they had witnessed. They liked to talk about the death and destruction werewolves or fae would leave behind. Though they never spent as much time talking about what they would do to it in turn. Ironically, the ending always included some kind of heroic intervention. Their parents or their grandparents swooping in at the perfect time and serving justice. His sister used to fall for those stories every single time. Rio used to be afraid of those stories. It wasn’t until he got older that he realized exactly what he should have been afraid of. Rio pressed play on the movie and let it get started, but continued talking with Milo. “Depends on how much about the supernatural you want to know. Both of my parents came from different families of hunters. So Athena and I got to focus on two things growing up. Werewolves and Fae. But my… abilities were always focused towards werewolves.”

Milo made a big deal about pouting in disappointment. “Is that because you’re only allowed to say it in Daddy’s company?” He asked, before raising his arms in surrender. “Okay, okay- I’ll stop now, I swear- I couldn’t resist.” His smile fading as the conversation became serious once again, he leaned back against the cushions behind him, listening intently to what Orion had to say. His own parents had been strict, and rigid. Growing up, their expectations of him had been unreasonably high, and in his opinion, put him under an unnecessary amount of stress. But they had been loving, and caring, and they had never resorted to scare tactics. He couldn’t imagine the trauma Rio might be carrying from being intentionally scared by the people who were supposed to protect him. Had they really told him stories equal to the horror movies he used to binge watch? Surely it had to be worse if they were based on the truth? On experiences they had been through?

Laughing quietly, he reached forward again to pick up the popcorn bowl, somehow feeling more comfortable when he was holding it. The smell reminded him of watching movies with his parents, as did the action of occasionally eating some, even if the taste wasn’t quite there anymore. “I mean, it isn’t as though I can just ignore it…” He pointed out. He could bury his head in the sand, but there were too many things out there he had a feeling he should know about. Supernatural life had to be easier when you understood the full extent of the world you were living in. He wanted that to be true, at least. “Huh… so werewolves really do exist.” He muttered, more to himself than to Rio. It was something he had suspected for a while, but his friend was now the first person to confirm the fact. “Fae?” He echoed, realising he wasn’t familiar with the term. Pausing for a moment, recognising the way Orion hesitated, he chewed thoughtfully on a piece of popcorn, offering the bowl to him as though it might remind him he was in a safe environment. “So, forgetting the- you know, the bad stuff, what can you do?” He asked curiously. “You’re different, right? You told Dani you barely counted as human so… are we talking Spider-Man backflips? Or is it something else? Was one of your ancestors bitten by a radioactive werewolf?” He wanted to give Orion the chance to talk in a playful way, in a way that almost trivialised the darker aspects of his life. Rio had begun to make vampire jokes, and the relaxed environment they created helped to lift some of the weight from his shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, he could return the sentiment.

Orion was mostly happy to ignore the beginning scenes of the movie in favor of talking with Milo. Even if the topic was his least favorite to discuss. For some reason, things with Milo just seemed easier. He could casually talk about topics he would usually avoid unless absolutely necessary. “Sorry to ruin your fun. I’m sure you wanted to find out about werewolves naturally.” Rio laughed, gesturing for the bowl of popcorn and then opening his mouth to see if Milo would try to throw it to him. “Fae are a lot more complicated. That’s a supernatural lesson for another night. But they have their own sect of hunters.” He didn’t need to overwhelm Milo with all of that knowledge. There were too many fae to describe in a single setting anyways. Not that Rio knew all of them as it was.

Rio couldn’t but laugh at the radioactive werewolf comment. The comic humor didn’t escape him, but it was the irony of the theory that made it even better “Oh god I wish. If hunters found out they were actually descended from werewolves I think their heads would spin.” Rio might actually go back to the Silver Bullet if he got to see that. “Yeah. I guess. I have this sort of… sixth sense I guess. If a werewolf is around I can feel it.” The gift that kept on giving. He had never figured out if there was an off switch to it. He mostly just dealt with it until he went numb to the tingling sensation. “I have faster reflexes. I’m kinda strong. I heal a bit faster than normal humans. Oh and I can see in the dark.” Rio tried shrugging them off. He never liked his abilities. No matter how great they might be objectively. “I could probably do a spider-man backflip if I trained. Any more questions?”

“Oh, no. I’ve already found out way too much without anyone to guide me through it. I’m done with finding things out on my own.” Milo assured his friend. In reality, it had been an incredibly difficult, and jarring process, but sitting here with Orion now made it more than easy to shrug off. Raising his eyebrows when he realised what he was being asked to do with the popcorn, he laughed, shifting on the sofa to give himself a better angle before aiming carefully. He so nearly missed, but with a sharp tilt of his head Rio caught the popcorn on his tongue, and he felt a ridiculous sense of accomplishment that definitely wasn’t warranted. Nodding in acceptance of Fae being too broad of a subject to cover without ruining the evening, he shelved his curiosity, ready for another night, another conversation. Offering Orion a grin when he laughed, he was genuinely proud of himself for being able to draw it out of him. He knew him well enough to understand this subject wasn’t one he was overly comfortable with. And he was not only talking about it now, but willing to joke about it. He enjoyed that.

“The ultimate plot twist, right?” He agreed, listening to the description of a sixth sense, wondering if it felt anything like being able to sense the blood pumping through a person’s veins. There were some moments it was all he could think about, hearing their heartbeat, feeling the heat of their skin, the pulse in their neck… he swallowed, pushing away the thought before he could make himself thirsty. That wasn’t going to be productive. And it certainly wouldn’t do anything to help his case in proving to Orion he was the same person he had always been. “So kind of like Spider-Man?” He confirmed. “I was almost right.” At the mention of any more questions, he sat up straight, attempting to look as serious as he could. “Only two. Potentially the two most important questions you are ever going to be asked. Number one; are you Team Edward, or Team Jacob?” He waited for his words to register before continuing, gesturing to the screen where the Cullen’s were entering the school cafeteria. They were walking in slow motion, their skin white, and pale against the film’s dramatic colour grading, and their faces were striking, intense, so obviously intended to be sexy. “Number two;” he added, maintaining his mock sincerity. “Do I look like that now? There’s only one right answer to this question, okay? Don’t hurt my feelings.”

Orion hadn’t exactly spoken about his history with the Scribrary. Or rather, two separate scribe buildings that he had access to now. The drama with Dani and the discovery of the hunter heritage all felt so fresh that RIo didn’t feel the need to pile on top of that with the Scribe history. But Milo might have lucked out in friendship when it came to finding someone with supernatural knowledge. Milo accommodated Rio’s request and tossed a piece of popcorn that Rio just barely managed to catch. The surprise took over, and he shot his arms up in the air in a triumphant cheer, maybe an overreaction but not one he was going to regret.

“I’m not that lucky. My family was convinced that the powers come directly from God. So take that as you will.” Rio was glad Milo was getting such a kick out of this. It was surprisingly easy to talk about it when the conversation wasn’t so… depressing. “Basically. I’m not nearly as cool or pretty as Peter Parker though.” He had gone through a long Peter Parker phase when he was younger, for obvious reasons. Rio was ready for his follow up questions until Milo actually asked them. He rolled his eyes and groaned in response, but felt his posture relax slightly at the change of subject. “I’ve seen enough memes to know the only right answer is Bella’s dad. I mean like… look at him.” Rio pointed at the screen, even though he wasn’t actually on it at the time. His point stood. “What’s so bad about looking like that, huh? I think you’ve always sparkled to me.” Rio laughed to himself and shot an innocent smile in Milo’s direction, “You look much more alive than they do.”

There was something so endearing about the way Rio celebrated his win, that for a few seconds following Milo found himself entirely speechless, overwhelmed by the affection he felt for his friend. “Maybe you are God.” He teased, barely putting any consideration into the joke, knowing Orion would appreciate it regardless. “Maybe you’re going to get older and suddenly inherit your omnipotence. If you don’t know what to do with your powers, please come to me. I have some pretty great ideas, you know. Tequila in every water fountain would be a good place to start...” Laughing at the mention of Peter Parker, he wasn’t sure he had met anyone who hadn’t crushed on the character at some point in their life. Sexual orientation didn’t come into play in relation to Spider-Man. “Hey, don’t put yourself down like that. You’re every bit as great as Peter Parker. I’d choose you over him any fucking day.”

Feeling a spark of satisfaction at the reaction to his questions, his eyes were shining with mischief. He was unapologetically proud of garnering such a response. “Okay, but is Bella’s dad hotter than Jacob, is that what you’re trying to tell me here?” If he had a heartbeat, he knew he would be blushing at the comment on sparkling. It was such a stupid thing to get flustered over, but he was rarely ever the recipient of compliments. He didn’t know how to accept them. “You know…” He shifted on the couch, readjusting the popcorn bowl. “That’s probably a good thing because if you try pushing me into the sunlight it isn’t going to end well. Let me sparkle in the dark, please and thank you.” Glancing back up at the screen, he wondered if the vampires in Twilight had reflections. Surely they must, how else would they look so flawlessly put together? “I do?” He asked curiously, pressing his fingertips to one of his cheeks as though he would be able to feel what Orion was talking about, the difference in complexion, the difference in demeanour. “I guess I don’t really know what I look like anymore… it’s weird only seeing myself on my phone screen, it isn’t like I can use any natural lighting either. The whole thing is just… really fucking weird.”

“You’re getting way too deep for me.” Orion laughed, lowering his victory arms and pull his legs up until a fetal position instead. “I’d have to get old in the first place. Hunters don’t exactly have the same life expectancy as an average human.” Sure, that was mostly due to the dangerous nature of their lives. But Rio had already decided long ago that just turning away from his hunter heritage and trying to live a normal life wasn’t enough. He had to actively try to protect the supernatural. In a way, he might be cutting his life even shorter. He was siding with people that may want to kill by going against those that would protect him. He wasn’t going to be getting much love from either side, in some cases. “I’ll make sure to keep your suggestions in mind though. In case I ever meet them.” Not that he really believed in any of that. “Now I know you’re just being nice. Everybody would choose Peter Parker.”

With a shrug, Rio tried to defend his statement, “I’ve been spoiled on some parts of this series. There’s a lot to be left desired about Jacob. Mr. Swan seems like a nice guy. I mean he’s older than what I would be comfortable dating, but honestly I’m just not comfortable dating.” Honesty was a virtue, or so they say. Rio spent so much of his life lying that when he finally met those he could tell the truth to it seemed to all erupt at once like a volcano. “Yeah. Suddenly the night hang outs make a lot more sense.” Rio considered what Milo talked about. It was so strange, the idea that he could no longer see himself. Something that was so trivial to most people that they don’t think twice about it as they pass by a mirror and check their hair. “Sure. I mean, I’m not like… I don’t know studying your features or anything but…” Not off to a great start, “You just look like… you. The movie seems to over exaggerate the pale features and stuff like that. I don’t think you look much different. Which is nice.” Jesus, his face felt like it was on fire. He thought he had moved past this by now?

“Hm, I don’t think anybody has ever called me ‘deep’ before.” Milo admitted, doing nothing to hide how amused he was. “I kind of like it.” His smile fading rapidly at Orion’s second comment, he suddenly found himself eyeing his friend with an open, and unguarded concern. It was a strange thing to say so casually, especially when it was clearly not intended as a joke. He hadn’t considered the life expectancy of Hunters until this moment, and he wasn’t sure it was something he really wanted to dwell on. Orion was safe, because Orion wasn’t a Hunter, right? How could you be a Hunter when you weren’t actively hunting? He wasn’t stupid enough to believe it was that simple, but for now, he was happy to convince himself otherwise. “Please do.” He said, easily falling back into their banter. “I think Tequila on tap would make the world a much greater place to be.” Offering Rio a warm smile, he needed him to see how serious he was. “Rio,” he said, his voice slow, and sincere. “I promise I would choose you. I mean, fuck Peter Parker. Come on...” Peter had a lot to offer, sure. But in his own mind Orion also had powers, Orion was just as interesting, if not more interesting because unlike Peter, he had actively saved his life. Or… unlife? He still wasn’t sure how that terminology worked.

His smile only growing when his friend proceeded to announce just how much he really knew about the Twilight series, he couldn’t bring himself to tease him for it. Not after the reminder of how grateful he was to be in his company. “Hey, you know what? Neither am I.” He admitted, quite possibly for the first time out loud. You only had to look at his history, at the ridiculous patterns of repeated behaviour for his commitment issues to become apparent. Even he knew he had them, he wasn’t about to deny it. His childhood had been too structured, too rigid. It had left him with a determination to be free. He still wasn’t entirely sure what his definition of ‘free’ was, especially now. But he did know it didn’t include dating. “Honestly, people are probably better off without having to deal with my bullshit anyway.” He absentmindedly took a handful of popcorn from the bowl, eating the pieces one by one before speaking again. “I was always more active at night anyway.” He shrugged off his new limitations. Life didn’t feel all too different in that aspect. The days had always been reserved for sleeping off hangovers and comedowns, the only thing he really missed was working. And Tower Comics usually had late shifts on offer, so hopefully he wouldn’t have to miss it for very long.

Pausing for a moment, hand halfway back to the popcorn, he realised Orion was observing him, carefully taking him in. It made him feel strangely exposed, but not uncomfortable like he might have assumed. There was something about his friend that made him feel so at ease, he couldn’t explain it even if he wanted to. He could only hope the sentiment was shared between them. The relief he felt when he was assured he still looked like himself was unexpected, until the words escaped Rio he had been entirely convinced it didn’t matter, he didn’t care. There was something so grounding about realising his appearance hadn’t changed. It was only further validation of the fact that he was still Milo, regardless of what Dani believed. Regardless of what Hunters and Slayers were taught about his kind. A half smile tugging at his lips, he didn’t hide how vulnerable he felt, because he didn’t want to hide how vulnerable he felt. He wanted to be honest, Rio deserved that much from him. “Thank you.” He murmured, his voice barely louder than a whisper. It didn’t take very long for him to push his vulnerability to the side though, because it became all too easy to make a joke as the blood rushed to Rio’s face. He believed Rio when he said he was over his crush, but he was always going to enjoy watching him blush. “You know, blushing in front of a vampire kind of makes you look like a snack.” He grinned, hoping his play on words would be obvious, and Rio would realise he was paying him a compliment.

“Do you want me to repeat it again so you can hear it more?” Orion laughed, resting his chin on his knees and shifting his tone to an only partially faked form of admiration, “Wow, Milo. You’re just soooo deep. I’ve never met anyone as intellectual as you.” Rio grinned after finishing, leaning back against the arm of the chair, “Hope that helped.” Despite the joking nature of the conversation, Milo seemed all too sincere when doubling down that Rio was better than Peter Parker. As absurd as that sounded, Rio couldn’t help but be a bit flattered. More than that though, he felt embarrassed by the compliment. One that he didn’t exactly know how to reply to. He was always terrible at accepting compliments. Instead, he switched guys. “Right. Well you should be careful who you promise stuff to. It’s a whole fae thing, I’ll explain later. But just be mindful of words like that to people.” Rio had learned the hard way just how dangerous a promise could be in the wrong hands. “But uh… thanks.”

Rio didn’t know how to respond to Milo. Rio wasn’t good at relationships, though maybe for different reasons than Milo. He didn’t know how to tell Milo that he didn’t seem like a hassle at all without it sounding like Rio was trying to date him. He shrugged the question off instead, choosing instead to show minor interest in the movie again until Milo mentioned being more active at night. “Yeah, I guess I sort of am too. I get the most done at night.” Less distractions to worry about, he figured.

Having his red face pointed out to him probably made Rio blush even harder. At the very least, it made his cheeks light on fire. “A joke about eating me? That’s just in poor taste.” Rio couldn’t even pretend to be serious, not with his giggling and the smile that wouldn’t leave his face. If compliments made him so awkward, how come he also couldn’t stop grinning? “Most people think I’m one missed meal away from snapping in half. This town thinks I’m like a saltine cracker or something. Just waiting to be stepped on and crumble.” Was that how Rio avoided dealing with the possibility that the vampire had just called him cute? Definitely.

“Obviously.” Milo countered quickly, tilting his chin in an attempt to look proud, and smug, as Orion elaborated on his intelligence. “Thank you, thank you.” He teased. “I don’t try at all, you know? It just comes to me naturally.” Quickly dissolving into laughter, he caught his friends eye, joining him in sinking back down into the cushions. “Oh, it did.” He assured Rio. “I appreciate the confidence boost.” A frown creasing his brow as he listened curiously to the warning, he hadn’t forgotten their unwritten agreement to put off the difficult conversations, to keep things light-hearted, and fun, and deal with the real world at another time. But he had a burning desire to know more, to understand. He felt as though he had been living in the dark, metaphorically, of course, for far too long now. Orion had become his light. “Okay, how about swearing? If I swear to choose you over Peter Parker, is that going to put me in danger?” He asked, genuinely wanting to know. “Hm, you don’t need to thank me, you dork. Thank Parker for being lamer than you are.” He nudged him with his shoulder, encouraging him to smile. “Who knew that was possible, huh?”

Dropping his head back against the cushions behind him, he turned his attention to the film as Orion insisted he was also a night owl. He kind of figured, given how they had reconnected, but it was a nice detail, one he was very happy to know. With every day that passed he could feel them trusting each other more, getting closer, and more comfortable with being who they were. What they were. He used to have that with Dani… not so much now. And he was so, so grateful he wasn’t alone. Laughing again, even harder this time, he couldn’t help himself. The situation was so ridiculous, so beyond funny that he had to laugh. If he didn’t laugh he would cry, or go insane, whichever came first. “Oh really?” He demanded, his eyes shining as he looked back at his friend. “You started it with the whole pointing out my lungs don’t work for shit, so… do you know how rude it is to tell someone they’re dead? How do you think Edward would feel?” Humming quietly, making his amusement abundantly clear, he chewed on another piece of popcorn. “Yeah, well, the joke’s on them because Saltine Crackers taste fucking great. Hey look,” he feigned surprise, wondering if he could elicit another blush. “Another joke about eating you.”

Orion had to appreciate Milo’s commitment to this Peter Parker debate. He wasn’t Rio’s favorite character by any means, but he was one of the most popular characters in probably all of comics. Being compared to and even rated above him was a surprisingly good feeling. “Swearing is tricky too. Though I guess not for a statement like that.” Unless there were any real Peter Parker’s in the world whose life came in danger soon. “It’s best to avoid any potentially binding statements like that. Just to be safe.” Rio needed to take his own advice. It was pathetic how easily he fell into Lydia’s grasp when he had grown up with two wardens constantly warning him of the dangers of fae. “Well I’m going to make sure my headstone reads that I was less lame than Peter Parker. Probably my biggest accomplishment in life.”

It was so nice not sitting on the couch by himself like he normally did every night. Even if they were watching a movie that Rio didn’t particularly care for. Things could be a lot worse. Right now with Milo things seemed pretty okay. Good even. “That’s old news now, you can’t use that against me!” It didn’t matter that it was barely a week old, Rio just wanted the spotlight off of him again. “I’d like to think that he would have a sense of humor about it.” He paused, glancing at the screen and trying to think of more than once in the entire movie so far that he had actually smiled, “Actually, never mind. Point taken.” Oh god. Did Milo just making another joke about eating Rio? Far past the vampire reference, this made Rio heat up even further. He dug his forehead into his raised knees and curled up into a ball so Milo couldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing his face. “No fair. You’re doing this on purpose!” Rio yelled, the sound slightly muffled from pressing against his jeans.

“Hm, okay.” Milo agreed, nodding as he took in what Orion was telling him. Until the real conversations, until they could sit down and talk about everything he didn’t know, he was going to hold onto the snippets of information he was given. He was smart enough to understand if Rio was telling him now, on their supposed night off from the world of the supernatural, then it was important. “No binding statements, got it. I stand by what I said though.” He added, grinning at his friend. “Only slightly less lame, but, you know... it’s enough.” He didn’t want to imagine any gravestone for Rio, the idea of mortality versus immortality was something he had strictly refused to let himself think about, but he had to admit the thought of the tagline was amusing. “You’re not going to top that, so you may as well give up now.” He teased, catching Rio’s eye and feeling an undeniable rush of affection. He needed this, a reminder that all hope wasn’t lost. There were things, and people, worth living for.

Laughing at the response to the previous joke being dragged back to the present, he shook his head, allowing himself to focus on the now. He got lost in his own head far too often, and he didn’t want to miss a second of this night with Orion. “Nope, that so isn’t how it works.” He insisted. “I think you’ll find I can, and I will.” Laughing again as they both turned to watch Edward on screen, the vampire’s mouth a thin, straight line, his body filled with obvious tension, he couldn’t remember laughing this hard since his death. He couldn’t remember feeling so normal. Who knew Twilight was going to be his saviour? Only tearing his gaze away from the screen to watch Rio hide his face, he playfully reached out to tug at his arms. “Doing what on purpose?” He asked, his innocence very obviously disingenuous. “Doing what? I don’t understand, Rio. My mind is pure, and innocent, and virtuous. I’m only trying to compliment you.”

“I’ll take what I can get. Slightly less lame is just fine.” Orion laughed, revelling in this moment. Where all that seemed to matter was Milo, Peter Parker and the sounds of twilight distant in the background. It was a good moment. “Clearly I’ve peaked in life. No reason to go on from here.” It had been so, so long since he had been able to laugh like that. It almost made him sad, thinking about how lonely he had felt lately. But he pushed aside that butterfly in his stomach. Good vibes only tonight.

Rio wasn’t going to budge as Milo pulled at his arms, refusing to give him a win on this. A small bit of light shone through as his leg shifted and he peaked up to meet Milo’s eye, “I don’t believe you.” Rio pouted, readjusting to shut his leg again. “I don’t think you’re pure, innocent or virtuous.” Eventually, Rio had to end the facade and lifted his head back up. He feigned annoyance, narrowing his eyes at his guest and crossing his arms. “You know if you had ‘complimented me’ like that like a year ago I probably would have melted to the floor right?” He used his fingers to make air quotes. They both knew that was true. Until Rio met Winston and started dating them, Milo was one of the small list of pretty guys that Rio could barely form words around. Another being Ricky and Adam. Thankfully, that had passed. Or Rio sure hoped that it had. The redness in his face seemed to be arguing against that. “Don’t you have a movie to watch? Notes to take? Like about baseball and spider monkeys?”

“Good.” Milo teased. “I would hate for you to be disappointed.” Laughing at Orion’s comment, he gestured to where they were sitting. “I mean, you’re sitting on a couch watching Twilight with a vampire. You’ve definitely peaked.” Picking up a piece of popcorn and throwing it lazily at his friend, he rolled his eyes, splitting his attention between their conversation and the movie. “That doesn’t mean you get to tap out though, asshole, so you can quit with no reason to go on. When I say give up I mean spend your life getting high, and eating pizza. Because we both know those are two excellent motivators for staying alive.” His laughter only coming more easily to him as Rio refused to budge, he eventually let go of his arms, allowing him re-emerge from the darkness in his own time.

“Excuse me, I am all three of those things.” He countered, pretending to be offended by the apparent lack of faith. “But I guess I can forgive you, I’m a complicated person, so difficult to understand.” He was being overly dramatic for the sake of it, but wasn’t that what was so great about this night? They could be young, and dumb, and make stupid jokes. They could shut away the outside world and pretend the only thing that mattered were their ridiculous attempts at humour, and the emotionless, super hot vampires on the television screen. “Yeah, I know, I’m sad I didn’t realise at the time.” He grinned mischievously. “Although maybe that would have driven you away and then where would you have bought your comics from?” Shoving Rio gently when he told him he should be taking notes, the popcorn bowl spilled over, but he paid no attention to the scattered pieces. He would clean them up when necessary, but the whole point of right now was being free, living in the moment. “Yeah? Maybe we should try out for the same team. You’re every bit as weird as I am, you know? With your X-Men Hunter mutation bullshit. We’re in this together now.” He did nothing to hide how much the closing statement meant to him, allowing the warmth of his words to remind him he was cared for, and protected. They both were.

“That’s what you call peaking, huh?” Orion laughed sarcastically, “I’d love to say I have higher standards. Clearly that’s not true.” And it wasn’t. His two best friends now were a werewolf and a vampire. It was like something out of a dream. Or maybe one of his parent’s nightmares. The majority of his friend group was supernaturally inclined in some way. Whether that be spellcasters or one of the supernatural beings his parents tried and failed to raise him to despise. Rio plucked the piece of popcorn from the couch that Milo so rudely launched at him and popped it in his mouth. “I don’t smoke though, so that’s already one reason eliminated. I do love pizza though.” Rio glanced up at the ceiling to consider that prospect. Pizza did sound pretty appealing. Actually, pizza sounded good right now. “Hmm, maybe we should order a pizza.”

“Not right now, you aren’t.” Rio refused to give him anything while he teased him for the crush Rio had before the two were legitimate friends. It felt like a lifetime ago admittedly, though in reality it had probably been less than a year. Rio had a habit of developing feelings like that for just about every pretty guy that spoke nice words to him. At least until Rio moved in with Ricky and Winston and Rio practically fell in love with Winston instead. Rio hadn’t felt anything quite like that since Winston left town. “Don’t be. I wouldn’t have known how to date back then even if I had the opportunity.” He barely figured out how to date Winston, and that had been an entire saga on its own, “And don’t smile at me like that!” Though he detested the idea of being compared to a hunter, he understood Milo’s sentiment and at least appreciated that he veiled it with comic book references, “I’m only going to take that as a compliment because you compared me to the X-Men. But absolutely not. No sports for me.”

“I’m offended by the implication of you settling for my company.” Milo teased. “But I’ll choose to let that slide because I’m comfortable and I don’t want to waste my energy on a dramatic exit.” Laughing quietly when Rio ate the popcorn he had dropped, he carefully contemplated the suggestion of pizza. It was another food he hadn’t tried since becoming a vampire. If his experiences with eating and drinking were anything to go on, it would be nowhere near as enjoyable as it used to be. But wasn’t that what you were supposed to do? You ate popcorn until you were genuinely hungry, and then you decided to order takeout. The familiarity of the routine was too strong for him to say no. “Want to order after Twilight?” He asked, glancing back towards the screen. They had to be reaching the middle of the film, they might even be two thirds of the way through. “Heads up, though. If you put garlic on it, then you’re going to end up on the menu.”

His smile only growing as Orion continued to insist he wasn’t pure, innocent, or virtuous, he finally abandoned his claims. “Maybe not.” He admitted, content to give in now that he had pushed back just a little. He had to at least remain indignant if he was going to accept defeat. Forgetting the makeshift disagreement, he settled further down into the cushions, pulling his legs up beneath him, listening to his friend explain he wouldn’t have known how to date. It was hardly surprising, given what he had come to know about Orion’s quiet, and gentle nature. But if he was being honest, he hadn’t either. Hell, he still didn’t know how to date. They had met just under a year ago, but it was clear a lot had changed for both of them over such a short period of time. “Screw you, I’m allowed to smile at you!” He countered, his tone petulant, but filled with affection. “And yeah, I knew the X-Men talk would do it, you’re very predictable, you know?”

“Well I’m offended by your attacks on me tonight. And for using my old crush against me to tease me. Both are very rude.” Orion hummed matter-of-factly, “So we can both be offended together. But only one of us gets the dramatic exit at the end.” He didn’t get many relationships like this. Teasing and comfort didn’t come naturally to him. It was hard to find his groove in a conversation when he had to spend so much of it planning ahead and second guessing every single word both before and after it came out of his mouth. Normally, he spent just as much time stumbling through a sentence as he did actually speaking. It usually took a lot of time and a lot of effort and patience on the other parties side to crack through some of that anxiety. Even then, he had only really achieved that sense of ease with a few people. Ariana, Blanche, Winston and Skylar were the first that came to mind. Now Milo too. It was comforting knowing that there were at least some people in town he could be his unfiltered self around. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” Rio shook his head passionately, the idea of pizza far too good to pass up. “Oh ha ha. Very funny. No garlic crust for us apparently.”

A yawn escaped Rio, and he stretched before readjusting on the couch to lay on his bed across it. He kept his knees bent and his head propped on the arm so he could still look over at Milo. “But I like you anyways” Rio reassured the vampire and gave him a thumbs up from his new position on the couch. “You’re allowed to smile at me. Just not like that.” Rio was still joking, but it had definitely been different than the other grins the two had exchanged. Rio didn’t have the energy to try to discern why it felt so different. Besides, he didn’t want to ruin the mood. He kept shifting his view between the movie and Milo. “Being predictable is exactly the vibe I’m going for. Nonthreatening, predictable, totally normal non-hunter Rio.”

“This is your house, moron, so obviously I get the dramatic exit.” Milo pointed out, very pleased they were in something together, even if the comment had been trivial, and light-hearted. It felt good to be side by side with Orion. He knew, to a certain extent, they really were in this together. In everything together. His friendship with Rio was quickly becoming his main source of support, and he couldn’t imagine it any other way. “You don’t need to tell me, I know I’m hilarious.” He added, watching as his friend stretched lazily, curling up on the sofa in a way that stupidly made him want to find a blanket, fetch him a hot chocolate, and make sure he was comfortable. He looked so innocent, it would be impossible to know all of the terrible things he had seen in his life. The struggles he had to face on a daily basis. Turning his attention back to the film, he couldn’t say anything particularly interesting had happened, but he had to admit he had thoroughly enjoyed the viewing experience. Despite not knowing what like that meant, he hummed quietly in response. “Sure, whatever.” A quiet laugh managed to escape him as he made a start on what was left of the popcorn. “I don’t know about labels, but whoever you are, I like you very much. I appreciate your vibes, you know.” He was only half teasing, needing Rio to know he genuinely enjoyed his company, that moments like these meant more to him than he could ever possibly say.

Keeping his gaze fixed on the screen, he didn’t want to embarrass Orion further, even if he was desperate to see his reaction to the admission, so he fell back into a comfortable silence, patiently allowing the end of the story play out. Simultaneously, it felt as though it was over in minutes, and took hours to finally draw to a close, but as the credits began to roll, accompanied by a tacky love song he embarrassingly recognised, he turned back to Orion, ready to ask him whether he still wanted pizza. It didn’t take him long to realise his friend definitely wasn’t hungry, though, and he stared, almost in shock, as Orion slept soundly on the cushions beside him. It wasn’t as though he was surprised he was tired, or surprised he had been lulled to sleep by what he could only assume was a vampire satire. It was the fact that he had fallen asleep next to him. Next to a vampire. Dani had made it perfectly clear he couldn’t be trusted, that nobody should be left alone with him. And although he knew Orion didn’t agree with her, being alone with somebody fully conscious was very different to being alone with them and unaware. Being alone with them and vulnerable. Biting down on his bottom lip, repressing a smile, he shrugged off his hoodie without jostling the couch, carefully draping it over Orion’s form. He could try and find a blanket, but wandering his house without his permission felt too much like a violation, so hopefully the item of clothing would suffice. He didn’t need to sleep, he didn’t need to rest in the same way Orion did, but as he settled back down again, unable to tear his gaze away, he realised he was in a position to protect. To care for somebody he was fairly certain wasn’t used to being cared for. “Night, Rio… I’ll be here when you wake up.”

#c:orion #milo and orion

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7-wonders · 4 years

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As Above, So Below Ch. 23

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 2512

A/N: Hi friends! I do believe that this is the last chapter for AASB. Believe me, I’m just as sad as you, but this feels like a natural conclusion. And don’t worry, there will be another “book,” but this is the end of this one. Thank you all so much for sticking with me on this journey, and for giving me so much love and support.

Soft touches on your face serve as your alarm clock this morning, your mind and body waking up to the feeling of featherlight kisses all over your skin. Fluttering your eyes open, you smile when you meet a pair of adoring blue eyes twinkling back at you. Neither of you have left Michael’s chambers for the past two days, and you have to admit that being lavished with affection by the love of your life is something that you quickly got used to. You could honestly spend an eternity in bed with Michael, which is why it’s so easy for the days to slip away. This small vacation, unfortunately, must end.

“Good morning, darling mine,” Michael mutters against your lips, making you sigh contentedly as you lazily stroke his hair.

“This is certainly better than a traditional wake-up call.”

“Then I guess I shall have to wake you up like this every day.”

“Is that a promise?” You squeal with laughter when Michael’s hand brushes up your side, accidentally tickling you.

“Absolutely.” His hand continues to trail up the length of your body, eventually landing under a pillow as he searches for something. “I have a gift for you.”

“Michael, you’ve already given me so much,” you groan, still not used to the exorbitant gifts he’s fond of giving you.

“I’d give you all the stars in the sky, if I could. Just let me spoil you, alright?” You want to at least attempt to argue this point, but Michael makes it nearly impossible when every single touch conveys his undying love for you.

“Fine. What is it?”

Sitting up in bed, you let the blankets fall to your lap as you watch Michael fiind what he’s looking for and conceal it in his hand. His fingers fall open, allowing you to see the ring that’s sitting in his palm. It’s beautiful, with diamonds encrusted along the rose gold band. The top of the ring looks almost like a flower, and a large opal sits at the center. Light glints off of the stone, making it look as if it’s reflecting rainbows at you.

“Oh, Michael,” you trail, in awe of how stunning the ring is.

“I know that wedding rings are custom for mortal unions, and I wanted you to have a piece of your heritage.” He looks at you as he holds the ring between his fingers, waiting for you to nod before he slips it on your ring finger. “Hephaestus crafted the band from hellfire, and all of the gems are from Above.”

“Both of us are represented,” you grin at the realization, tearing your eyes away from the jewelry adorning your finger to beam at Michael. “I love it so much.”

“Do you really? Because we can always redesign it, if need be.”

You stop him from continuing that thought by kissing him. “It’s perfect, and everything I could have ever wanted in a ring.”

“Nothing could be as perfect as you, but I am glad that you think it comes close.”

“I love you,” you kiss him gratefully, “despite your horrendous one-liners.”

Michael slaps a hand over his chest to feign offense. “‘Horrendous?’ I happen to think that they’re clever.”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” you tease, trailing off when Michael picks up your hand and begins to kiss the back of it before running a finger delicately around your new ring. “So...what now?”

“Elaborate for me, love.”

“When you proposed to me,”

“Which was mere days ago,” Michael interjects with a grin.

“You had mentioned that it wouldn’t be a traditional marriage or anything like that. So who decides we’re married? I’m assuming there’s no immortal justice of the peace or an Olympus records office we have to go to to fill out a marriage certificate.”

“That’s where the problem lies. Most other gods and goddesses have been married for thousands of years, or they just aren’t married at all. We’re quite the anomaly.”

You groan. “Why do we always have to be the first? Couldn’t somebody else have defeated Satan and gotten married before us?”

“I suppose all that really makes it official is Violet’s approval of our union, since she’s the goddess of marriage. However, I can’t help but feel that’s very anticlimactic, and not the sort of beginning to a marriage that you deserve.”

Although your knowledge of weddings isn’t very vast, it does allow you to come up with an idea that Michael just might approve of. “Do you know what eloping is?”

No matter how many times you’ve elaborated on the informality aspect of an elopement, Michael is endearingly (or annoyingly; you haven’t decided yet) persistent on the idea of following the traditions of mortal weddings. Thus, the garden that Michael created for you has been deemed the site for the ceremony. Madison, Zoe, and Thanatos are the only “guests” invited, although you did tell Desa that she was more than welcome to join the festivities. Violet will act as, for lack of a better word, the officiant for this affair. Michael had even tried to insist that the dress follow the white color scheme, which is ironic because he should know better than anyone that you’re not “pure” like the color symbolizes. You do settle for a cream-colored dress with a lace overlay that falls down to your ankles and forms to every curve and dip of your body.

You want nothing more than to get this over with so that you can just be married to Michael, but everyone’s extremely excited about the first wedding to be held in a few millennia. Where you would have thought your friends would back you up on Michael’s quirkiness when it comes to the ceremony that’s supposed to be impromptu, they’re more than happy to help Michael with fulfilling any of his ideas for the wedding. This includes the groom not seeing the bride prior to the marriage, which is the most difficult aspect of this whirlwind of a wedding.

“(Y/N), are you ready?” Madison asks, knocking on the door. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you do a quick check to make sure that everything is exactly how you want it to look.

“Yes, but I think the question is if Michael is ready?” Madison opens the door, gasping when she sees you. “Seriously, I thought the bride was supposed to be the difficult one, not the groom.”

“Oh, you look so beautiful,” Madison coos, her hands falling on your shoulders as she gazes at you. “You almost make me want to wear white.”

“The highest of compliments,” you note, grinning at her through the mirror.

“I know that I’ve known Michael a lot longer, but I swear that if he hurts you in the slightest way I will kill him multiple times, in a variety of equally painful ways, until you deem that he’s suffered enough.” It doesn’t sound like a nice thing in the slightest, but this is the closest to sentimental that Madison can get.

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me!” You let out a delighted shriek when Madison throws her arms around you, hugging you tightly.

“I just--I really…”

“It’s okay,” you nod. “I know, and I love you too.”

“Thank you for not making me say it,” Madison mutters into your shoulder.

“You’ll get there eventually.” You pull away from Madison’s embrace, stifling a laugh as she tries to reassume her stone-cold bitch demeanor. “How’s Michael? He hasn’t run away yet or anything?”

“If anything, we’ve had to keep him from breaking his own rule and coming in to see you.”

“Well, I guess we shouldn’t keep him waiting too much longer, then.”

Madison takes your hand, making sure she didn’t mess up your outfit before walking with you towards the garden. “Wait ten seconds after I walk out, and then you can go.”

“Why ten?”

“So that all the attention is rightfully on you,” Madison smirks, opening the doors and walking through the garden like she’s walking a catwalk at Paris Fashion Week.

Counting in your head, you try to sneak a glance at Michael before the moment comes for you to officially see each other. While you can’t see him, you do notice the beautiful job that your guests did at decorating the garden. Twinkling lights are everywhere, and the sky has been charmed with a sunset that looks as if it’s been painted up there. The flowers are in full bloom, with some of the larger plants blooming in such abundance that they create an aisle. When ten seconds pass, you take a deep breath and step outside.

You were never the type of girl to imagine your wedding growing up. In nursery school, when your classmates were playing wedding and house, you were more focused on building mini empires with Legos. As you got older and social media was factored into life, friends would have wedding Pinterest boards full of images of their idea of a “perfect” wedding. It was trivial, you believed, just girls conjuring a fantasyland. Besides, most of their weddings would be marred with ugly memories of fighting or divorce, and these ideas would just serve as a letdown.

Walking down the path to where Madison, Zoe, Thanatos, and Violet are gathered around your soon-to-be husband, you can see the appeal in the picture-perfect wedding. After all, this surely must be the affair that people have in mind when they think about their potential wedding. Seeing Michael standing mere feet away from you, exquisitely dressed in black and red with one of his expensive cloaks, is sheer perfection. He smiles when he lays his eyes on you, and you can see the breath leave his body as he gasps. You bite your lip, the intensity of his gaze spreading heat throughout your entire body.

“Hi,” you say shyly, taking his large hands as you face him.

“You’re the most divine being I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on,” he whispers reverently, like you’re the god instead of him.

“Hey lovebirds,” Madison chimes in, “you can undress each other with your eyes after this union has been blessed.”

“I’m sure we’ll be doing a lot more than that later, but thank you Madison,” Michael smirks as your eyes widen.

“Violet?” Your voice comes out as little more than a squeak, so you clear your throat and try again. “Are you ready to start?”

Violet’s glowing as she smiles at you, obviously thriving off of the marital excitement that hangs in the air. “Well, I’m extremely honored to be the one to oversee this marriage between two souls who are very dear to my heart. Before I get to blessing this union, I understand that Michael has some words he wants to say to his bride?”

You look at Michael in surprise; as far as you were aware, this was supposed to be a quick event.

“I apologize for not telling you that I was planning this, but then you would have come up with a speech of your own, and this is supposed to be about you.” You scrunch up your nose, not wanting to ruin his moment by interjecting. “For the entirety of my existence, I have been led to believe that I wasn’t capable of loving, or of being loved. I’m the God of the Dead, and I see the very worst of humanity. If I serve as the ‘Grim Reaper,’ why should I have people who love me? It was an assumption that I fought against for a long time, but you eventually begin to believe what people constantly tell you over long periods of time.

“All I had ever known was death, anger, and darkness. But then I met you, and you immediately brought color to my world. That color may have been your colorful language as you cursed out the grocery bags you were carrying, but it was color nonetheless. From the very beginning, you’ve captivated me every time I had the pleasure of laying my eyes on you. You’re intoxicating, a drug that I’m addicted to and have no intention of quitting. Getting to know you and love you has been one of the greatest pleasures of my life, which has been very long.”

You attempt to release one of your hands from Michael’s grasp so you can wipe away the tears that you can feel flowing down your face, but Michael beats you to it and uses his thumb to get rid of the tears. “These are happy tears, I promise,” you say with a laugh upon seeing a concerned look on his face.

“Good.” He kisses the back of your hand before picking up where he left off. “I could go on about all of the different ways that I love you, and though we now have all the time in the world for me to do so, I won’t bore those who would become an unwilling audience. For now, I will say that you are not my other half, for there wasn’t just a piece of me missing without you. You are the entirety of my soul. I’m not sure how I managed to function before you, and I know for certain that I would not be able to live if I were to be without you. I absolutely adore you, (Y/N). I love you more than I ever dreamed it was possible to love another thing, and I am so utterly thrilled that you have chosen me to be yours.”

“I love you,” you say earnestly, surging forward to kiss him. When you’re stopped by a hand on your shoulder, you groan.

“Sorry, but you have to wait just a little bit longer before you can kiss your groom,” Violet says with a laugh.

“You people live to make me miserable,” you mutter.

“Well then, we better hurry this up, huh?” Violet’s eyes twinkle with mirth. “As the goddess of marriage, I, Hera, hereby bless the union between (Y/N) and my brother, Hades. May your marriage be full of love, laughter, and prosperity until the end of time.”

“Go ahead and kiss!” Zoe calls out, nearly bouncing on her toes in excitement.

Michael looks at you with a devious smirk, grabbing you before you can even begin to question what he’s scheming. He dips your body until you’re almost parallel to the ground, surging down to meet you with a searing kiss. Whoops and hollers sound from around you, but all you can focus on is the feeling of your husband pressed up against you.

“Wow,” you say breathlessly when he finally releases you, “that just might top every other kiss we’ve ever shared.”

Michael laughs heartily, the sound bringing pure joy to your heart, as he kisses you again, this time more chastely. “I love you.”

“I love you too, husband.”

Standing in the middle of your garden, newly married and basking in wedded bliss, the God of the Dead has never felt so alive.

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#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #michael langdon x reader #american horror story #american horror story imagines #american horror story imagine #american horror story #AHS #ahs imagine #ahs imagines #ahs apocalypse #ahs apocalypse imagine #michael langdon au #hades and persephone au

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rosethornewrites · 3 years

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Fic: the thing with feathers, ch. 15

Additional Tags: Transmigration, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Crying, Music, Nosebleed, Fear, Recovery, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Flirting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent Yú Zǐyuān, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Monsters, Sexual Tension, betrothal

Summary: Wangji speaks for himself. Wei Ying wakes. Communication ensues.

Notes: I might be wrong on this, but when I rewatched The Untamed with my mom, it seemed the town was named Lotus Pier and the sect grounds and Jiang home were named Lotus Cove, which is why I’ve been differentiating the two here. Even though yuanfen is often associated with the red thread, it isn’t always associated with romance. It’s not even fate, really, as that implies a higher power. It’s simply fateful coincidence and often simply associated with good or bad luck. In this case, it’s a potential relationship—whether friendship or more, Lan Wangji isn’t really thinking about right now. He just believes that his second meeting with Wei Wuxian means they are meant to have import in each other’s lives, and he wants very badly to protect him.

AO3 link

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

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Wangji felt like he had been in a daze since Wei Ying had abruptly gotten a nosebleed and panicked when he was talking to an older Jiang disciple. When he had tried to take his friend to the healer, he insisted on being taken to Madam Yu instead.

As improbable as it seemed, Wei Ying’s vision of a monster yao had apparently been correct, the adults had informed him when they returned. And it put him in danger.

He was disappointed to have missed the practical lesson shufu had given on the proper disposal of yao corpses, but he would rather be at Wei Ying’s side.

Wei Ying was still unconscious, and Wangji was aware of the conversations happening around him despite the daze, as they tried to determine how best to protect him—if he truly had precognitive visions, Madam Yu argued, he would be seen as an asset to acquire by certain other clans.

Madam Yu’s arguments regarding his protection made sense, particularly official adoption, and though shufu was balking and displeased with her second idea, it too was truly logical, could throw off any suspicion from the Sun that saw all, could protect Wei—or rather, Jiang Ying.

And what if Wei Ying’s dream of being cast into Luanzang Gang… What if that was a premonition? The place was warded and managed by the Wen sect, after all. If they wanted him and could not have him, would that be the result?

If he could do anything to prevent that from coming to pass, he would.

Shufu was turning angry colors, seeming to be too overcome to speak properly, starting and stopping and sputtering when Madam Yu countered his half-formed objections, completely unruffled.

“I agree,” he said firmly—during a pause, so as not to interrupt.

“Wangji!”

Shufu looked outraged, and Wangji wondered if he had been expected to stay silent on the matter. Madam Yu, on the other hand, looked pleased.

“I want to help him,” Wangji insisted. “I wish to help prevent his nightmare from coming to pass.”

He could see from the stricken look on the adults’ faces that they knew what he was referring to. Wangji was glad he didn’t have to elaborate further, and that they understood the gravity of his concern. For a moment, there was dead silence as they digested the idea, but he was also unsurprised when his uncle spoke again against the idea of betrothal.

“You’re too young to—”

“A-Li has been betrothed since she was a toddler,” Madam Yu cut in swiftly, what little patience she had spent. “I only hope her betrothed doesn’t grow to become as egregious a pig as his father. I trust my sworn sister will do her best with him.”

Wangji couldn’t help but gape, unused to gossip in general and absolutely shocked to hear such words about a major sect leader.

“A-Ying is kind and intelligent,” she continued, unfazed. “Don’t tell me you disapprove of him because the mother he doesn’t even remember once shaved your beard off as you slept.”

The statement seemed to hang in the air. Shufu was turning an alarming color, and Wangji couldn’t help contemplating what he would look like without his beard.

All told, it was probably for the better that they were interrupted by Wei Ying waking, though the fact that he woke with a scream and immediately started sobbing was more than a little upsetting. It took time for the Jiangs to calm him down, for Madam Yu to assure him no one died, that he had done the right thing telling her so they could take down the yao without anyone being hurt.

“Perhaps you should tell us what you ‘saw,’” shufu said once Wei Ying was calm.

“It was big, and like a dragon, but not like a dragon,” Wei Ying started. “Like a snake, maybe?”

He remembered only that about the creature. His san-shixiong had grabbed him and Jiang Wanyin, propelled them to shore with a burst of spiritual energy, and had been promptly eaten by the yao.

“It bit him in half,” Wei Ying said, his voice trembling. “And then it started killing the others.”

He lapsed into silence, his jaw trembling.

“I ordered the disciples out of the water,” Madam Yu told him. “Your shushu and I battled it with Jinzhu and Yinzhu on the river. San-shixiong is fine, as is everyone else.”

She patted him on the shoulder, clearly trying to comfort him.

“You did the right thing, A-Ying,” she said. “You kept them safe. Now we need to keep you safe.”

Wei Ying blinked, his eyes darting as he processed that.

“Because I saw,” he said eventually. “People will want that.”

Madam Yu nodded, looking pleased that he understood.

“I’m sorry for bringing trouble, shenshen.”

The smile disappeared, her face tight and downcast for a moment. Wei Ying’s words hurt her, but Wangji didn’t understand how.

“A-Ying, you can trust that your shushu and I will handle any trouble. You are not at fault.”

The boy nodded, but still looked uncertain, as though he wasn’t sure whether to believe it wasn’t his fault.

Jiang Fengmian seemed to sense that, and patted Wei Ying’s head.

“A-Ying, we decided the best way to protect you is to officially adopt you into the Jiang clan.”

“As our son,” Madam Yu added. “And A-Lian as our daughter.”

“It won’t be unfilial?” Wei Ying asks softly after a moment. “My mama and baba… Would they be mad at me?”

The Jiangs looked startled at the question, but Wangji understood.

Shufu almost fulfilled the role of a father for him, but his true father was still alive, though he’d never met him that he could remember. So to refer to shufu as such would be unfilial; even if his father was dead, it could be unfilial.

“Your father,” Sect leader Jiang started hoarsely, and had to clear his throat before continuing. “Your father was my sworn brother, and I loved him as though he was my blood brother.”

“If you would be more comfortable continuing to refer to us as shenshen and shushu, rather than a-niang and a-die, you may,” Madam Yu told him. “Legally you would be our son, to protect you, but we wouldn’t be replacing your mama and baba.”

Wei Ying nodded, biting his lip.

“It’s just… I forgot them—everything about them. I don’t want them to be hungry ghosts.”

Yu Ziyuan gathered him to her, and he let out a soft sob.

Wangji couldn’t imagine forgetting his mother, who had been one of the brighter points of his life until her death. Wei Ying, as a homeless orphan in Yiling, had smiled so much like her. Back then, he could remember his parents. Now they were lost to the void where his memories once were.

“You didn’t lose your memory on purpose,” Jiang Yanli offered softly. “I’m sure they wouldn’t blame you for that.”

“They will not be hungry, A-Ying,” Madam Yu murmured to him. “Their tablets are in the ancestral hall for you to leave offerings and burn joss paper whenever you wish. We are not replacing them. Fengmian and I can tell you stories of them, if you wish. And Lan Qiren was acquainted with your mother and may be willing to share stories as well.”

“The stories may help you remember,” Wangji added.

“Maybe a-die and a-niang can draw them, too,” Jiang Cheng said. “I bet that would help.”

Wei Ying sniffled and nodded, his nose running as he seemed to fight the urge to cry. Wangji pulled a cloth from his sleeve and handed it to him and received a watery smile.

That seemed to remind Yu Ziyuan of the other part of the plan.

“It’s possible this is just the effect of the resentful energy still in your mind,” she said. “Learning the songs of the Lan and further help from them might make it fade. To avoid suspicion about why you will spend time in Gusu, you will be betrothed to Lan-er-gongzi.”

“When you are older it can be dissolved,” shufu added.

Wangji watched for Wei Ying’s reaction, feeling oddly uncertain—after all, it was an unusual arrangement, and he might not welcome it—but when Wei Ying turned to him, it seemed like his own uncertainty was reflected back.

“I don’t want to prevent you from meeting your fated one, Lan Zhan,” he said softly. “You don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I already agreed. Our meeting again was yuanfen, and I wish to help protect you,” he assured him. “It is no burden.”

He knew Wei Ying often saw himself as a burden, or at least referred to himself as one. He always seemed conscious of how much he was relying on others, always seemed to try to make up for it. Wangji wanted him to know he was not a burden, not trouble, not anything other than worthy of protection.

“You’ll let me know if it is?” Wei Ying asked solemnly. “Like Lan-xiansheng said, we can dissolve it later.”

“It will not be a burden,” Wangji insisted. “But if I am wrong, I will tell you. But you also must tell me.”

Wei Ying smiled, strangely wistful.

“Ah, Lan Zhan. You’re so good.”

“W—Jiang Ying is also good.”

It was hard not to think of him as Wei Ying, but Wangji would do his best to adjust. His friend looked startled at the name, then smiled almost bashfully.

“You can call me A-Ying,” he said softly. “If it’s easier.”

Wangji knew friends often referred to each other, and he nodded, happy that he considered them close.

“Then you may call me A-Zhan,” he said.

No one aside from occasionally xiongzhang called him so informally, but he thought it would be acceptable if it was A-Ying.

Shufu, he noticed, watched their exchange, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

“Madam Yu’s idea is that the two of you will act as second in command to both sects, according to the betrothal contract,” Lan Qiren says. “Half of the year in Yunmeng, half in Gusu.”

“Thus you will have an excuse to receive further treatment in Gusu and to learn more musical cultivation that may help,” Madam Yu added.

Jiang Fengmian reached forward, patting A-Ying’s arm.

“We will negotiate the terms, but only if you’re okay with it, A-Ying,” he said. “People may say rude things.”

A-Ying seemed surprised to be asked, but he nodded.

“I know people might be weird since it’s a cutsleeve betrothal, but people find something to be weird about all the time. I’m fine with it if A-Zhan is.”

“I am,” Lan Zhan said.

“Excellent,” Madam Yu said, looking pleased. “We will discuss this with your uncle and draw up terms. But first we will perform the adoption rites and announce you and A-Lian as Jiang.”

Wangji understood she meant letters would later be sent out to the rest of the gentry later about their betrothal. Though he preferred not to be the object of gossip, he understood the betrothal announcement would concretely ally Gusu Lan and Yunmeng Jiang and serve as protection for A-Ying. He would manage somehow.

A soft knock on the door prevented any further conversation, and Madam Yu dispelled the silencing talisman. She opened the door to reveal a servant, and the scent of food wafted in, making his mouth water. It was long past dinner now.

The servant bowed.

“Madam Yu, the townspeople learned of the yao. Some witnessed the battle. The businesses came together and delivered food as thanks. We are serving the disciples as well.”

Several more servants entered the room, efficiently clearing the table and setting up far more communal dishes than normal. It was clear that the food was from both restaurants and the Lotus Cove kitchen, and so the array was much more varied than most meals. He did notice that there were far fewer dishes from the Jiang kitchens, and realized the yao attack had likely even interrupted dinner preparations by the servants, making the gift from the townspeople all the more apt and appreciated.

Sect Leader Jiang murmured about reimbursing the restaurants to the ranking servant who had knocked, and the rest of the Jiangs moved to the table while he did. Wangji offered a hand to A-Ying to help him out of bed, and they went together.

Many of the dishes were heavy with spice, but Jiang Yanli was already putting together a bowl of rice and lesser-spiced dishes, which she handed to him with a smile. Xiongzhang and shufu were filling their own bowls in a similar manner, while A-Ying filled his with a base of noodles almost fiery-looking with spice and other dishes that were tinted red, orange, and yellow with spice, then settled on a cushion a little away from the table.

Aside from the sound of utensils on porcelain, the room was unusually silent, everyone focused on eating after so much energy was expended on the yao. Where normally the Jiangs chattered during supper, the meal was almost as quiet as those in Gusu. It felt odd, as Wangji had become accustomed to listening to the conversations around him, even if he didn’t participate in them.

Wangji settled beside him to eat, quietly considering what should be done to make A-Ying comfortable in his visits to Gusu, and the first thing on his list was acquiring spices and spicy condiments from the Lotus Pier market. His friend would find the fare at Cloud Recesses entirely too bland, but he wanted him to enjoy Gusu as much as he had come to enjoy Yunmeng.

Perhaps he should ask Jiang Yanli to teach him recipes, as well.

Mind set, he focused on eating, taking comfort in the warmth of his friend beside him.

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little-murmaider · 4 years

Note

APA 💐 for 1-15 please

Oh Dang!!!! Thank you so much!!!!

Fic Asks

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way? A book I was reading at the time (The Wedding Date by Jasmine Guillory) swapped back and forth between the two main characters’ perspectives. I really liked that structure and thought it would work well for APA. Plus it gave me a chance to show a lot of different relationships that I may not have gotten to show if I only stuck with one perspective.

2: What scene did you first put down?

The first scene I wrote was actually a scene I cut! I repurposed part of it but I’m sad I never got to do anything with the Nathan/Charles bit here. The first scene I wrote that stayed in the fic (albeit with some changes) was when Toki and Skwisgaar pretended to date and kissed to appease a nosy customer. 3: What’s your favorite line of narration? Uhhhhhh a bunch but I really love: Overhead, the sky was a murky mush. Navy blue clouds on the edge of black, swollen with potential snow. They evoked a sadness in the pit of Skwisgaar’s chest he could not place. Some long ago childhood disappointment, the specifics lost but the hurt everlasting.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue? It’s very silly but I made myself laugh a lot writing the two “detectives” talking about being great detectives. It’s just me imitating my two friends who insisted on getting a cameo and eventual spin off, and I just wrote it in a way that I hoped they would find funny. (They did!)

5: What part was hardest to write? Honestly the ending! Partially because I had to claw myself out of the worst depressive spiral of my life, and partially because I was really sad I was finishing this thing I’d worked on and obsessed about for over a year. Other sections, like Skwisgaar rescuing Toki from his village or Toki galavanting around town during the arts and crafts showcase, were more complex but came much easier to me than just........writing a scene where Toki walks across the apartment. 6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

It’s my longest fic and it’s my most elaborate AU. But this fic is really special to me because I’ve always wanted to write the Big Romantic Multi-Chapter. This is the type of fic I would have wanted to read when I was a lil fandom babby and I’m really proud of it.

7: Where did the title come from? I love puns, and I wanted the title to be something that would be at-home on a rom-com poster with Toki and Skwisgaar standing back to back and looking at each other over their shoulders and smiling.

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it? There’s a lot of personal stuff in here! Skwisgaar and Nathan’s apartment is based on my apartment. The town where they live is based on the town where I live, and a lot of the stores in the fic are real stores. The Green is the park in the center of my town; the clock where Toki and Skwisgaar eat hot dogs is based on the town clock in my hometown where my husband proposed.

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic? It used to be a lot shorter! Like 11 chapters, maybe! Welp!

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story? Skwistok is always going to be my Number One Boy in terms of MTL pairings, I love it so much, and I just wanted to create a nice little world where they could be regular jack-offs and fall in love :)

11: What do you like best about this fic? I can’t pick just one thing! I’m really happy I was able to incorporate storylines for almost every secondary character, and I’m really happy with Murderface’s community center plot in particular.

12: What do you like least about this fic? I’m always going to worry about pacing, forever.

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading? So much 90s pop, stuff that would have appeared on a Meg Ryan Movie Soundtrack. I made a playlist a long time ago but I’m too tired to find it heheh.

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic? Ummmmmm I guess Give AUs a Chance, they’re fun!

15: What did you learn from writing this fic? That I can actually complete my big ambitious fic ideas! So keep an eye out for the Pickleface and Narles sequels, maybe, probably, we’ll see.

#asks #ask box #thank you so much!#whew this took a while lol #also my jersey homies can probably figure out where i live hehehe #i gave u all the clues........

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jewish-privilege · 5 years

Link

Eric Lidji is a man who cares deeply about modest ambitions. He has lived in Pittsburgh on and off for 20 years. It is a city perfectly sized to his sensibility, neither very small nor very large—a place known to but mostly ignored by those who do not live there. Lidji, 36, has held many jobs; most recently, in late 2017, he became the director and only permanent staff member of the Rauh Jewish History Program & Archives, a repository of early-20th-century local Yiddish-theater posters as well as records from dozens of small-town synagogues in western Pennsylvania. But even before he became an archivist, Lidji’s work has always been the same: He is a diarist of small delights, a chronicler of curios, an ardent psalmist of Pittsburgh’s quirky charms.

Like many of the 49,000 other Jews in the Pittsburgh area, Lidji was socializing at a local synagogue on the final Saturday in October last year when he heard the first rumors of a shooting at the nearby Tree of Life synagogue. The news was soon confirmed: Eleven Jewish worshippers had been murdered. Lidji felt paralyzed: Shabbat, the Jewish day of rest, was still ongoing, and he wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t until a few hours later that something clicked, and Lidji felt a certain desperation stirring alongside his sorrow. Already, people were laying artwork and stones, which Jews customarily place on graves, on the sidewalk around the synagogue where the shooting had taken place. Many of the accumulating objects were fragile and homemade, with no clear owner or steward, left outside without protection against Pittsburgh’s notoriously wet weather. This was not just an outpouring of grief, but a proliferation of artifacts—artifacts that, in Lidji’s view, should be preserved.

On the Monday morning after the shooting, Lidji met with half a dozen colleagues who work in other divisions of Pittsburgh’s Heinz History Center, where the Jewish archives are housed. Together they formed a task force, fanning out to as many vigils, funerals, and religious services as they could. They filled their bags with copies of programs and approached speakers after public events, asking them for their notes. Whenever Lidji spotted someone carrying a sign, he would hurry over and hand them a business card, hoping they would call him when the card reappeared at the bottom of a purse or in a pocket emptied for laundry and offer to donate what they had made. Sometimes he felt overwhelmed. On the Tuesday after the shooting, he showed up at a protest against President Donald Trump in Squirrel Hill, Pittsburgh’s historic Jewish neighborhood, to find thousands of people gathered in the streets carrying signs and banners. “It felt like … archiving the ocean,” he told me.

The grim reality of Jewish history is that Lidji is not the first archivist of his kind. Medieval Jews buried family heirlooms in the walls of their houses in times of plague, fearing that they might be blamed for the disease. Scholars founded the Yiddish institute YIVO in the early 20th century, recruiting ordinary Eastern European villagers to collect photographs and folktales of a culture threatened by pogroms and mass migration. Emanuel Ringelblum led a covert effort to collect and bury artifacts documenting life in the Warsaw Ghetto in the early years of the Holocaust, before its inhabitants were murdered and its remaining structures burned to the ground.

...Since the attack, Lidji has experienced a personal religious transformation: After nearly 15 years of haphazard Jewish observance, he started attending services every day. But there were other reasons to show up for prayer: It has proved a useful venue for winning people over to the cause of archival collection.

...After the attack, Lidji’s first big challenge was becoming more visible to the community: being unobtrusively, insistently present at memorial events, and building relationships with community leaders. His second big challenge was convincing the Pittsburgh Jewish community that its history is worth preserving.

The first time Lidji felt “any sense of accomplishment,” he told me, was when a man who had been “polite but reticent” about the archival project came over during morning minyan one day and announced that he had found “the perfect object.” On the day of the shooting, a boy had been celebrating his bar mitzvah at an Orthodox synagogue about a mile away from Tree of Life, and continued the service even as news of the shooting reached the community. The bentscher, or book containing the prayers said after meals, captured the moment perfectly, the man told Lidji: It featured the boy’s name and the starry Pittsburgh Steelers logo wrapped around the date, 10.27.18. Lidji eventually got hold of one of the bentschers.

The most significant items Lidji has collected have what he calls “the shine,” a certain raw, emotional quality that indicates an object’s clear connection to the past. In the week after the attack, students at the Hillel Jewish University Center of Pittsburgh gathered and expressed their feelings on Post-its. “My childhood illusion of security as a Jew was shattered,” one student wrote. Lidji and his colleagues collected programs from memorial events, some more pointed than others: A community with a large Bhutanese population hosted a vigil, where attendees seemed to feel acutely the dangers of being an ethnic minority. A large Reform Jewish congregation, Rodef Shalom, hosted a small event where the preschool director reported that ever since the attack, the children had been obsessed with building elaborate protective structures out of blocks.

...A few weeks after the attack, Lidji got a call from a local family who wanted to donate a sign they made for the first memorial vigil, on the night of the shooting. When the mother brought her two children, 3 and 5, to the archives, the older child asked why they had to give the sign away. Sometimes, Lidji told her, things are so important that we have to make sure they will be around for a really long time. Right, the girl’s mom added. One day, you will be able to bring your grandchildren to see this sign.

In late summer, Lidji picked up several vanloads’ worth of material from Jewish organizations around town, ranging from condolence notes to quilts to paper cranes they had received in the preceding months. Lidji said it will probably take him at least a year to go through it all. And there’s more: Tree of Life and the other two congregations that were in the building during the shooting received an estimated 10,000 letters in the days after the attack. It is unclear where they will end up.

“People will tell this story someday, and they’re going to tell it using this information that we’ve all left behind for them,” Lidji told me. “We’ve only done as good a job as we could do. We couldn’t save everything.”

...Lidji has had to figure out how to start telling the story of the Pittsburgh shooting, a story with much larger and darker implications than any he’s had to tell before. At first, it was Jewish organizations in and around Pittsburgh that approached him to help them make sense of the shooting—the Orthodox yeshiva where he went to high school, an area synagogue where one of the victims’ children attend services. Eventually, he started getting requests from people who live farther afield. In June, Lidji spoke at a convention in Colorado of mostly non-Orthodox chevrot kadisha, or sacred societies, made up of the members of Jewish communities who oversee the washing and burial of the dead. The convention was held not long after a gunman allegedly killed 51 people and wounded dozens more in a mosque in Christchurch, New Zealand, and also not long after a 19-year-old man allegedly opened fire in a synagogue in Poway, California, murdering one woman and injuring three others, including a rabbi and an 8-year-old girl.

Lidji began his talk with a story he sometimes tells when he’s trying to explain the deeper meaning of the archives project. Psalm 90 begins, “A prayer of Moses, the man of God.” According to Jewish tradition, most of the Psalms were composed by King David, who was born centuries after Moses died. How, Lidji asked, could David have known what Moses had said in his prayers?

In answer, Lidji offered his interpretation of a line from the Radak, a medieval Jewish commentator, painting a scene of dramatic discovery: King David, unable to sleep and wandering around his palace at night, finds a pottery jar containing a mysterious scroll bearing Moses’s prayers. How meaningful it must have been, Lidji said, for David to hold in his hands the words of the Jewish tradition’s greatest prophet. Psalm 90 itself describes how insignificant human events must seem to God: For in Your sight, a thousand years are like … a watch of the night. And yet the Jewish people, Lidji explained, have been able to maintain continuity in part because their archives have let them “come back later and be reminded.”

The bar mitzvah boy who persevered through his prayers even as his synagogue went on lockdown will one day die. The little girl who gave her sign to the archives will one day die. From dust to dust: A century hence, no one who witnessed the Pittsburgh synagogue shooting and its aftermath will be around to explain why they loved Squirrel Hill. If it survives, Lidji’s archive will be all that’s left to tell a more textured story. Depending on what comes next, those stones and signs and notes of grief could tell radically different stories: of a rare aberration in American Jewish history, or the restarting of an ancient clock.

#long post #pittsburgh shooting #z''l

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dragon-turtle-bay · 4 years

Text

Eight romantic fantasy character creation tables

For Knave and other fantasy RPGs.

Body

Elven (she/her or they/them)

1. Curvy 2. Graceful 3. Willowy 4. Delicate 5. Supple

Halfkin (any pronouns)

6. Stout 7. Slight 8. Nimble 9. Chubby 10. Plump

Stoneborn (he/him)

11. Stocky 12. Broad 13. Round 14. Sturdy 15. Cut

Orkish (any pronouns)

16. Thick 17. Meaty 18. Tight 19. Buff 20. Towering

Eyes

Valiant

Quiet

Cheerful

Sneaky

Cunning

Trusting

Calm

Piercing

Steadfast

Warm

Wise

Old

Young

Tired

Wide

Wild

Clouded

Starry

Restless

Grim

Hands

Calloused

Manicured

Steely

Flexible

Scarred

Burned

Strong

Wrinkled

Worn

Fast

Clumsy

Soft

Steady

Firm

Tender

Fidgeting

Gnarled

Stained

Uncertain

Cautious

Raiment

Elegant

Flowing

Patched

Practical

Colourful

Layered

Diaphanous

Lacy

Eccentric

Glamorous

Elaborate

Ceremonial

Revealing

Vivid

Dark

Regal

Floral

Shrouding

Comfortable

Pale

Value

Bravery

Kindness

Patience

Loyalty

Humility

Honesty

Prudence

Curiosity

Mercy

Justice

Celebration

Protection

Restraint

Reverence

Hope

Trust

Perseverance

Adaptability

Kinship

Care

Comfort

Food

Dance

Music

Story

Touch

Company

Art

The water

Play

Sleep

Silence

Sport

Rain

Trees

Animals

Flowers

Solitude

Ritual

Sun

Daydreams

Voice

Dulcet

Melodious

Bold

Sultry

Insistent

Even

Bright

Lively

Bubbly

Shaky

Measured

Mellow

Grave

Stormy

Clear

Timid

Sonorous

Somber

Velvety

Full

Trade

Merchant

Librarian

Scholar

Courier

Farmer

Hunter

Healer

Artisan

Cook

Mason

Tailor

Gardener

Performer

Artist

Courtier

Mancer

Scribe

Smith

Fisher

Navigator

What makes these tables romantic fantasy?

I don’t want to conflate romantic fantasy with lightheartedness or levity —there’s room for romantic fantasy to be grim, dreary, gritty or dark, I think. But often OSR games and fantasy RPGs in general focus on a very specific dungeonpunk aesthetic: one I wanted to challenge with these tables. Knave’s default tables push towards that aesthetic, especially with the vice and misfortune tables, so I replaced vices with comforts and got rid of misfortune entirely (at least for now). I wanted to hint at a word where things are, generally, good; where people are kind and life is beautiful; I want characters who feel more like young adult fantasy and romantic fantasy protagonists who are hopeful and colourful. I think, without new equipment tables, these character options will still end up having tinges of dungeonpunk (they’re a little agnostic that way), but this is just a first step towards my Knave hack. I hope these are useful or inspiring! If you end up implementing in your game, I’d love to know :)

Elven, halfkin, stoneborn and orkish people

I’m not too, too happy with the way these are only expressed in terms of characters’ bodies. These four peoples are physiologically distinct, but these differences are more like “some of them are made out of stone!” and not “elven people can never be buff” or “all orkish people are tall.” Ultimately it’s important to me that fantasy “race” be less essentialized and tied to racist notions of physique and physiology, so I’ve already decided that I’m not going to use those peoples for the game this will eventually become. I’ve found a new home for them, but I decided to include them for now since these random tables will end up looking a bit different when they’re finished, and the four groups inspired the choices of the first one.

So, what do they mean?

Elven people are photosynthetic. They have pointy ears and skin the colour of algae, including yellowish-brown, orange, red and brown, but mostly green. This is due to symbiotic algae living in their skin that provide them with most of their energy. All elven people are potentially able to bear children as well as make other elven people pregnant, though not all are able to in practice or choose to do so. Elven people also have empathic connections with plants, algae and even other animals with symbiotic relationships to algae (rare as they are) —descriptions of this connection range from some saying they “commune” with plants, to others describing it as “talking,” to others characterizing it as more of an intuitive, subconscious connection, like the connection a seabird has to an ocean breeze.

Halfkin people are so called not because they are about the half the size of the three other peoples, but because they have features similar to those of some mammals like bears, tigers, foxes, cats, wolves and even mice, making them appear sometimes as though they were half-animal, half-beast. They have ears resembling those of animals, fuzzy, furry, animal-like lower legs, paws for feet, and tails. The resemblance is mostly physical, and there is no direct phylogenetic relationship to these animals. Ancestral families of halfkin people all share similar animal traits, and these families are often named after the animal they resemble.

Stoneborn people are born from stone and earth. Their bodies appear mostly fleshlike, and can even be fairly soft and comfortable to the touch, but instead of bleeding they crack like ancient statues. Stoneborn children are not born; they are crafted. At some point in his life, a stoneborn person might return to the mountains and caves where he was built, deep to ancient, magical forges near the core of the earth, and there they begin to mould a child out of molten earth, stone and metal, with a gem heart. Stoneborn children are so malleable at birth that they could almost pass, to us on Earth, as human babies with chubby bodies and soft skin (if not for the stone-grey colour) and they become more stonelike as they age.

Orkish people are the “human stand-in” trope of these four, with the outward perception sometimes being that they’re more diverse and varied than the other three. But that’s not exactly true. That’s a hard thing to measure, and these four groups aren’t segregated or separated by culture or geography. “Orkish” is a heritage and a clade, not a culture; there are many cultures all over built up of many different kinds of peoples, and these four peoples do not each belong to one homogeneous culture. But, to us on earth, orkish people would be the most similar. Sure, they have big tusks, but other than that, they’re as close to “default” as you could get —they don’t have algae in their skin or are half-animal or are made of stone. Where the other three veer towards alien, orkish people are familiar.

#ttrpg #osr #fantasy #knave #oc

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artemisegeria · 5 years

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Love by Design (Chapter 9/11)

Title: Love by Design (Chapter 9/11)

Rating: T

Word count: 3188

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Summary: Vision makes elaborate foam art as a barista at the coffee shop that his brother owns. One day a new customer comes in, and he completely loses his cool. As she keeps coming back, they grow closer. A casual acquaintance becomes something much more.

Chapter Summary: Wanda and the others comfort Vision after the sudden upheaval in his life. They also come up with a plan to fix an injustice. Meanwhile, Vision ponders where he will go next.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16272371

A/N: Well, it’s been another multi-month gap between updates. Sorry, but life and writer’s block do sadly get in the way of fanfiction. It has been a real struggle. But I can say that I have officially planned out this fic all the way to the end, and I will finish it, so I can move on to other things with a clear conscience. This is the third to last chapter.

Part of this chapter and the next was inspired by a comment on Chapter 8 from FrozenHearts, who suggested “I hope Wanda's fellow teachers rise up and barge in and help get Vision's stuff back.” It was not in the original plan, but I liked the idea so much that I rearranged a few things. So thank you for that.

And thank you to everyone who continues to read this despite my inconsistency. I hope you enjoy.

After a leisurely morning hanging around the apartment together, Wanda waited for Vision to return from his mission to find out what happened to the coffee shop, busying herself by straightening up her apartment and cooking. The others had all agreed to come over. Natasha was bringing over some drinks. Steve and Bucky were bringing some chips and lending clothes to Vision, as they were the closest to his size. Mantis and Nebula were bringing some games.

He finally knocked on her door about four p.m. She would have to get him a key if he was going to be staying with her. His unusually hunched posture suggested that things did not go well. He carried a small box, and nothing else.

She took the box from him and set it carefully in the corner. “Do you still feel up to having people over tonight?” He didn’t look quite as lost as the previous night, but he was avoiding her eyes.

“Yes, I believe the distraction would be helpful.” His tone was hollow.

She guided him to the couch. “What happened?”

He sighed and finally looked at her fully. “I knocked on the door. A stranger answered. When I explained who I was, he shrugged and said I collect a few personal items. He followed me the whole time I was in the apartment. I tried to determine what was going on. All they said was that Ultron had sold them the business to pay off some of his debts. He would not let me take my computer or any of my books. Though, he did offer to sell them back to me. I simply left.”

“I’m sorry, Vizh.” Wanda deliberately kept her words soft and slow. She had half a mind to go down and talk to the new owners herself. She could set them straight. But it wasn’t truly her place, and Vision needed her more at the moment.

“It’s alright. I don’t want to dwell on that right now. What can I do to help prepare for our friends?” She allowed him to change the subject, though she continued watching him with some concern as they laid out cups, plates, and silverware.

They only had a few moments to themselves to sit quietly before Bucky and Steve were the first to arrive.

***

Later that night, the party was in full swing, everyone putting on a good face to cheer Vision up. Tony even brought a karaoke machine. Vision and Wanda headed off any attempts at matchmaking by volunteering to go first, with a non-romantic rendition of “Don’t Stop Believing.”

Wanda resisted the urge to stay by Vision’s side all night. She simply wasn’t ready to tell the others yet. Though she was a bit surprised that no one had yet questioned Vision’s sleeping arrangements.

She was in the middle of pondering what else she could do to help Vision when a grinning Scott approached her. “Hey, Wanda, a few of us were thinking that we may have a way to right the wrong that’s happened to Vizh. You in?”

“Of course. What does this involve?”

“Oh, just a little heist.” Scott smiled even more widely. Wanda was vaguely aware that he had a juvenile record from his Robin Hood activities, but she had never seen him in full planning mode. “Nat and I already looked into these buyers. Their security system is ridiculously lax. Bucky, Steve, and Tony agreed to do a stakeout to see when the building is empty. Then, we go right in, get Vision’s stuff, and walk right out again.”

Wanda could see one glaring problem with this plan. “I’m not saying no, but what about after? I don’t want them thinking Vision was involved.”

“Oh, that’s already taken care of, too. Nat dug a little deeper. She prepared a file of all their financial indiscretions. They’ll keep quiet about it.”

“You two are thorough. Let’s do it.” They shook hands on the deal as Nat walked in with some glasses. Scott gave her a thumbs up.

The plan confirmed, Wanda returned to the main room. She squeezed in between Vision and Nebula. He almost put his arm around her naturally, but he stopped himself at the last moment and turned the motion into placing his arm behind his head.

They stayed up laughing and playing around until weak dawn light started to pour in through the curtains.

***

Despite his exhaustion after two nights of virtually no sleep, Vision managed to apply himself to the next task at hand. Wanda left the apartment to run some errands and attend a practice session in preparation for her concert, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He and Wanda had not had a proper opportunity to talk about how his staying with her would work. He felt that their relationship was still too new assume that he could stay indefinitely.

He did not even know what their lasting sleeping arrangements would be. They had not broached the topic due to the chaos of the last two days. While both of them had grown more used to physical closeness over the last month of their new relationship status, sharing a bed seemed a major leap.

It was some hours later before he realized how much time had passed. When he looked at his watch, he determined that it was time to start dinner so it would be ready when Wanda returned. He put together a salad, an entrée of chicken, broccoli, and rice, and brownies for dessert. They had hardly had time to eat a proper meal over the last two days either.

He was just arranging the candles and place settings when Wanda rushed in, beautifully flushed from the heat outside. “Wow! You really went all out. You didn’t have to do all this.”

He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I know, but I wanted to thank you.” Noting the protest forming on Wanda’s lips, Vision continued, “I know that I do not have to, but I want to.”

“Okay.” She admired the table, and Vision felt a surge of pride. She looked far too impressed by his efforts, but he was gratified by her reaction regardless. “And thank you.”

Dinner was a quiet affair. Wanda spoke a little about her practice, but was curiously close-lipped about the errands she had completed beforehand. She insisted on helping him to clean up. They fell into a brief soap bubble war before moving to the couch for the evening.

Eventually, Wanda sat up more fully and looked at Vision directly. “You’re welcome to share my bed tonight.” She smiled, but her gaze turned serious. “The couch is too small for you. I know we haven’t really talked about it, but it only makes sense.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t presume-.”

Wanda said at the same moment, “I know.” Vision immediately paused and gestured her on. She smiled, certain that was coming. “That’s why I’m offering.” She put a hand on his arm. “Only if you want,” she added.

“I would like to.” The thought of lying beside her and waking up with her was indeed very pleasant. Still, Vision considered that she might yet change her mind. He did not know the proper boundaries or the words to make himself understood. “If you’re sure.” He hoped that those three words might convey half of his uncertainty.

“I’m sure.” Her response held all the warmth of her smile and the touch of her hand. His own smile widened to mirror it. “We’ve cuddled together before. There’s no reason this would be any different.”

“I see your point.”

“Okay. Just let me get ready, and then you can.” She jumped up, and he immediately mourned her loss, even though her absence would be momentary.

It was only a few minutes before Wanda emerged and beckoned him to her door. Vision retrieved his pajamas from his small box of belongings. He changed quickly, unnerved by the sensation of being naked in a new space. He focused on Wanda’s décor, which carried a charming imprint of her like the rest of her apartment. Knick knacks were scattered around. It was not his preferred style, but it suited Wanda. And he would never have her change any part of herself for him.

Once his nighttime ablutions were complete, he took a breath and opened the door to let Wanda in. As they climbed into bed, Vision wondered how they were supposed to arrange their limbs. Wanda was apparently thinking along the same lines because she rolled to face him. “Sorry, this is a little weird.” The single bedside lamp cast odd shadows on her face.

He nodded in understanding. It was strange. He had not shared a bed with anyone since he was a small boy. He feared taking up too much of Wanda’s space. There was only so much he could compress himself. “I agree. Do you want me to move to the couch?”

“No, I just don’t want to kick you or something. I flail around a lot in my sleep sometimes.”

It was comforting to know that Wanda felt her own uncertainty at times, but he reached out to reassure her as she did him. He laid a hand gently on her arm. “I do not fear a bit of jostling.”

“Okay.” They both turned over onto their backs, not touching. “Good night.”

“Sweet dreams.” It was odd sharing a bed. Vision wasn’t used to being so close. The warmth coming from Wanda was pleasant, but he was not quite sure where to place his limbs. He did not want to bump into her or crowd her either. Vision noted that Wanda was also unnaturally still. It took some time for him to give into sleep after those musings.

Still, when he woke in the morning, he supposed that he had been worrying over nothing. During the night, their bodies had resolved the dilemma for them. Wanda had ended up in the middle of the bed, her breath softly feathering the side of his neck. One of his arms had landed across her middle. Judging by the smile on her serene face, her sleeping self did not mind.

After dinner on the second quiet night they settled on the couch, and Wanda presented him with a small box. Vision held his breath, for a moment convinced that she was proposing to him. But when he opened it, he was relieved to see a simple key. It was not that the idea of marriage was repellant, but it was surely to soon for that.

Vision forced himself to respond calmly as Wanda looked at him expectantly. “Am I to assume that this is a key to your apartment?”

“Yeah, since you’re staying here, I want you to feel comfortable coming and going whenever you want.”

“Thank you.” stroked through her hair, and she sighed. “Wanda, there is something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Okay…” she muttered into his shirt.

“Much as I have loved staying with you, I would like to find my own place.”

Wanda raised her head to look at him properly. “You don’t have to, you know, if you’re saying that for my sake.”

“I’m not. I have never had a space that is truly my own. Besides, we have only been dating for a month.”

“That’s a good point. You should get the chance to experience that. I still remember when I moved away from Pietro for the first time. I was a wreck for the first few weeks, calling him every night sobbing, but once I got used to it, it was wonderful.”

Once they were lying in bed together, Wanda added, “Keep the key, though. Use it as you see fit.” Vision accepted her suggestion with a soft kiss.

The next morning Vision called Marian’s number, hoping that she hadn’t found a tenant yet. “Hello?”

“Hello, Marian? This is Vision; we met at the river clean-up back in May.”

“Yes, dear, I remember you. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you were still searching for a tenant for your condo.”

“Why, yes, I am. I was beginning to think no one would ever take me up on the offer. Do you have a name for me?”

“Actually, I would be the prospective tenant. I have found myself rather suddenly in need of accommodations.”

“Nothing would make me happier, Vision. My schedule is open all this week and next if you have any time to come see the old place and discuss terms.”

“Yes, today would be wonderful, if I may.” They set a meeting time, and Vision felt as if a tremendous weight was lifted from his shoulders. Before leaving, he wrote a note for Wanda, informing her that he was going to inquire about an apartment.

Marian was as gracious as Vision expected. They caught up on the past months of news and current events over cups of coffee. Then, she gave him a tour, pointing proudly to the pictures of her children and grandchildren. When they sat down again after that, Marian proposed a scandalously low rent. Vision had to negotiate to get her up to a reasonable level given his research on the local rental market and projected future home prices. She did get her way on the point of insisting that she leave her furniture, claiming that she had no need for it at her new place and it would only be left on the curb if he refused.

Vision agreed, and they shook hands on their deal. Marian let him know that he could move in as soon as he was ready. Vision thanked her and waved on his way to his car, feeling like he had finally made progress toward a new, Ultron-free life.

***

A few weeks later, Wanda was working on preparing some lesson plans when Scott and Sam entered the breakroom. She was grateful for the summer emptiness of the school. It allowed her to think properly, as well as plan illegal activities with her colleagues. “I think we’re ready.”

“Oh, good! Vizh was able to move into his new place the other day, but he still spends most of the time at mine. He says it feels too empty there.” He was spending every other spare moment working to reconstruct his presentation for his conference. She hoped to be remove that burden from him.

Sam grinned at her and alarm bells sounded in her head. “Good excuse to seal the deal.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no deal, and I’m not trying to seal anything.”

“Sure, whatever you say, Wanda.” Sam spoke good naturedly, but his eyes glinted. Wanda felt that the only possible response to this that would not dig herself a deeper hole was silence.

She was rescued when Tony and the rest trouped in. Among them all, they hammered out the final details. Scott assured them he had transportation. Natasha finalized the security details. The others provided material support and muscle, and Wanda had the knowledge of what items were most important to retrieve for Vision.

After their meeting was over, Wanda sat back and relaxed for a few minutes before going home. She reflected that such trust and cooperation would not have been possible six months earlier. She never would have expected to even receive an offer of help, nonetheless relying on these people to carry it out.

Wanda smiled softly to herself as she gathered her things and walked home.

***

A few days later, Wanda ran her hands over Vision’s neck and shoulders while she kissed him. He settled his hands on her waist. They continued in a similar fashion for some time. “Your apartment is a much more congenial location for kissing than mine.”

She found herself chuckling. “I’m glad you think so.” She leaned in to kiss him again. “I’m trying to soften you up before I ask you a favor.”

The level of concern in his frown as he pulled away warmed her. “You don’t have to kiss me to encourage me to do you a favor. What do you need?”

She kissed his cheek. “I’m teasing, Vizh.”

“Oh.” He looked away from her, his face reddening in embarrassment.

She drew his face back to hers with her fingers on his chin. She tried to smile reassuringly at him, and he returned the gesture. “I was just hoping that I could have a key to your place, since you have one to mine. It only seems fair.”

“Of course. You are welcome any time.” They did not waste any more time that evening talking. Vision had not had much time for anything besides preparing his presentation in the last few weeks. This respite was just what he needed to carry on.

***

Wanda waited in the school parking lot under the cover of darkness. Eventually, a van that she didn’t recognize pulled up. She pointedly ignored it until the passenger window rolled down and Scott stuck his head out. “Hey, Wanda. Come on, we’re all here.”

She squeezed herself into the middle row with Natasha, Steve, and Bucky. Scott introduced her to the others in the front and back as old friends from his delinquent days. The driver, Luis, drove out from the parking lot, around the corner, and down the street from the coffee shop.

Wanda was never so grateful to live in a small, sleepy town. It was barely past ten o’clock, and the streets were dark and silent. The four friends stepped out of the van and walked to the alley behind the shop. She held her breath slightly when Bucky started picking the luck, but the task was accomplished soon enough. No alarms sounded, so apparently Natasha, Scott, and his team did their job.

Wanda led the way up the back stairs. The apartment above at least looked undisturbed. They quickly started unfolding the boxes they had brought. She found Vision’s laptop and computer bag first, handling it with care. Then, she went for his books. The others gathered his clothes and other personal effects.

She was just admiring their handiwork and checking for any other missed items when she caught sight of the bottle with the model ship sitting on the mantel. Wanda bit her lip. Given recent events, she wasn’t at all sure that Vizh would want the reminder of his brother. But she figured that was his choice. She removed it and nestled it among some clothes in one of the boxes.

They were finally ready to back out the way they had come. They were able to carry all the boxes in one trip. Stacking them in the back of the van, Luis drove away as if he had not just aided and abetted a felony. They dropped Wanda off at her apartment on the way to wherever the van was kept.

She waved at them from the front door of her building. As soon as she reached her own apartment, she changed into pajamas and collapsed into bed. She couldn’t wait to surprise Vision with this.

#fanfiction #scarlet vision #wanda maximoff #vision #alternate universe

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leejihoonownsmyheart · 5 years

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Click, Click

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4 , 5 , 6 , 7, 8 , 9 , 10 , 11, 12, 13, 14

Chapter Fifteen:

“After that I’m all yours.”

To say that those words haunted you nonstop for the next few hours was an understatement.

For one, who said that to anyone. You didn’t talk to guys that you were just friends with like that and while you were on it, were you even really that with Jongin? You were almost certain the answer was no despite what he so desperately wanted. People hardly even spoke to their own significant others like that.

“I’m all yours.”

If you were to say that to anybody they would probably think that you were interested in them. That you wanted to go out on dates and hold hands and kiss and all of the in-between and that wasn’t what you wanted by a long shot.

You knew that Jongin knew that. You had made it pretty clear that you liked Jihoon, but what if he was the kind of person who didn’t care if you had a boyfriend? Who would still flirt, and smile and try to date you and be the other guy. What if he wanted to be the other guy, liked the idea of sneaking around and you saying things to both of them and-

“Yo, I can see you freaking out right in front of me.”

You were jostled back into the present sharply as you looked over to the guy beside you.

Immediately your worries seemed stupid. He had a concerned look spread over his lips- serious concern- and his eyes weren’t flitting from place to place. He wasn’t distracted by things on his phone or people walking by or the things in his hands. He was concerned about you, and about why you had suddenly gone so quiet, and honestly people didn’t often show concern for you when you did stuff like that.

They didn’t normally notice.

“I’m not freaking out,” you mumbled back with a roll of your eyes.

If anyone ever did notice you freaking out, they generally let you get away with it if you were convincing enough, and you could be very convincing. A laugh, a roll of your eyes, a quick statement that you were fine, and then a change of topic to what you knew that your friend really wanted to talk about and you would be clear to go on without being too suspicious. Not many people really wanted to talk about your problems with you after all. Not to say that your friends were uncaring or anything- they weren’t- but it didn’t make them bad to not want to discuss your problems with you on most days. You knew that you could be dramatic, and people didn’t expect you to be so in your head and anxious about everything.

You didn’t blame anyone for letting your excuses slide. In fact, part of you wanted them to.

“So what’s your plan for the night anyways? I have homework to do after this,” you stated pleasantly. You flashed him a signature smile, even though you hated to do so when you didn’t really feel like stretching your lips out like that.

“Come on, you look like you just saw a ghost... And your hands?”

He reached out and took your hand, encompassing your fingers with his warm palm. He only held your hand for a second.

“Clammy. You’re not okay. Do you really want to hang out tonight? You don’t have to if it’s going to make you feel like this.”

Another part of you was silently screaming for people to call you out on your bullshit, and it made you so completely grateful that Jongin wasn’t letting you lie to him. You had a weird feeling- even though no one had ever done it before, that even if Jongin let you lie to him, let you smile and say you were okay and change the subject he would know that you really weren’t alright. And you had this really weird feeling that he would worry about you over it.

“I can’t control how nervous I am,” you stated. “It’s not even really you, it’s just the situation.”

“What situation?” Jongin asked. You gave him a pointed look.

“Out with a random boy in another country,” you stated.

“I’m a good guy!” Jongin insisted, actually looking offended at the statement. You raised an eyebrow at him and he pressed his lips together. “Which is exactly what any guy would say. I see your point.”

“I’m determined to hang out with you today,” you stated confidently. “Just… Don’t expect me to not be totally in my head over everything the whole time.”

“I was just thinking we get some ramen honestly,” Jongin said with a shrug. “You don’t look like you’ve eaten much today, and I’m hungry so-”

You knew it was dumb to say, but you opened your dumb mouth anyways.

“Ramen and go?”

He wrinkled his nose and stared at you, which just made you give him a more stubborn glare.

“It sounds like a date,” you elaborated. He scoffed.

“Please, like I would ever ask you out on a date,” he mumbled. You braced yourself for the worst. Ready for the insult on your appearance, personality or everything in between. Waiting for another comment like, You’re just intimidating. Anything of the sort. “You ask Lee Jihoon’s girlfriend out on a date the day that you want to die. I’d have all of Seventeen on my ass.”

The comment actually kind of made you want to laugh.

He was right. Now that you thought about it, every time you ran into a Seventeen member on the street they always seemed excited to see you. They always asked how you were doing and teased you like you two were friends.

It was a little odd to think about how comfortable you felt around all of them. It was like they were close friends, brothers even. You were never scared around them, worried that someone would consider you two hanging out as a date or anything.

It was different than the way you were with most guys. Kinda like how Jihoon was different than most guys you had a crush on in the past. Your cheeks reddened a bit just thinking about him.

You wondered what he would do when he saw you next.

You remembered the kiss he had pulled you into when he saw you into Japan. God, you wanted to kiss him again. You wanted to be there right next to him, and you wanted to be able to grab his hand, and to see him smile at you, and to hear him say some stupid corny, cheesy thing just to get you to smile and laugh and kiss him again.

Jongin chuckled, bringing you back to the present. You furrowed your eyebrows towards him.

“What?” You asked.

“Red and dazed,” he commented. “You must be thinking about Jihoon again.”

Your face blazed with color and you hit his shoulder. He laughed in surprise.

“Do you always resort to violence so quickly?” He blurted. “You’re gonna leave bruises!”

“Good! Maybe you’ll learn not to tease me,” you snapped back teasingly. It made him laugh again and you smiled, relaxing a bit under his attention. He gestured for you to follow him, and so you did, walking cautiously beside the guy.

“There’s this really good ramen place just down past the Patbingsu store on the corner,” Jongin stated softly. You frowned, your nose wrinkling slightly with the action.

“Patbingsu?”

Jongin glanced at you with a confused expression.

“Yeah, the Patbingsu place on the corner, Sulbing?” He asked. You stared at him blankly.

“What is Patbingsu?” You asked him. He stopped in his tracks, his jaw-dropping. You stopped too, a little bit in front of him and looked back at him. “What?”

“You’ve been in Korea for how long and you don’t know what Patbingsu is?” He asked you in awe. You opened your mouth to respond but he didn’t let you. “Geez, I can’t believe this. Look, I’ll have to take you some time this week.”

“Oh.”

He continued to talk over-eagerly about stuff that you guys were going to do this week, and it honestly caught yourself off-guard. You’d only agreed to hang out with him one time, so why was he just assuming you would do it more than once?

And more importantly, why did he end up being right? He started showing up in the mornings, taking you and your friends out to eat before classes. After classes he walked with you specifically to work and then went back to hang out with your friends until your shift was over. Then he took you out all over again, showing you the places in Korea he thought you should’ve seen already.

“Okay, okay, what about this?”

He pointed to one of the foods on the stand.

“You have to have at least been curious enough to try it?”

You shook your head.

“I’ve been busy,” you replied. “I usually just walk past.”

He scoffed, and without asking you if you were even hungry he stepped up to the stand and started to order two of whatever it was.

He was surprisingly forward in that way, but… Weirdly enough he was more reserved and rational then you were about most other things. Whereas you would be willing to randomly go all the way to another country because Jongin joked that there was something there you absolutely had to try there, he was only willing to do the smaller impulsive things like dragging you into a store because you glanced at the window display and saw a poster of Lee Jihoon on the window.

Or impulsive things like buying you a jacket with Jihoon’s name on the back because “you should have merchandise that reps your boyfriend!”

It was honestly kind of fun to hang out with him. Eventually, your initial surprise and general discomfort around Jongin dissipated completely. You scolded him for messing with you and openly teased him if he seemed to find a girl attractive, telling him off for being too scared to go over and ask for her number already.

You both acted like you’d known each other forever, and Jongin knew you even better than your own family did. You actually looked forward to seeing him all the time.

You guys went to the Library together and read and studied and goofed off. You kicked his butt in Mario Kart and you got obliterated by him in pool, and he slung his arm over your shoulder and got close whenever a guy looked at you the wrong way. You always told him not to, but he said someone had to do it when Seventeen wasn’t in town and it shut you up every time.

Eventually, your life just became an unstopping pattern of Jongin and thinking about Jihoon and school and work, and you didn’t even mind the mind numbingness of it all because the less you thought about it. The less you- specifically- missed Jihoon the easier everything else was.

You didn’t miss people all that often.

The part of you that would sit and be sad because you weren’t around people you were used to seeing every day just didn’t work right anymore, and you weren’t exactly sure why. You didn’t miss anyone from home. You didn’t miss your parents or your friends or your extended family. You kind of missed one of your closest friends back at home but other than that you just didn’t often get that feeling in the pit of your stomach anymore.

You’d get messages from your friends saying how much they missed you, and you felt bad for doing so, but most of the time your response back was always “i miss you too :(“ even if it wasn’t necessarily true. You thought maybe you were becoming heartless. Or maybe you had just emotionally prepared yourself for the break from them you knew was coming, but either way, it wasn’t very good for your sanity.

Despite saying all of that, however, you did miss Jihoon. You missed him more than anyone you had missed in such a long time that at first, you thought something was wrong with you. You thought about him and yearned to see him and you would give anything to just reach forward and touch him again.

You missed him so much most of the time you weren’t really sure what to do with yourself. You just sat in that dumb jacket with his name on the back and your head on Jongin’s shoulder while the two of you watched a movie, sighed and murmured, “I miss Jihoon”.

A statement to which he turned his head to and smiled.

“Jihoon will be back in Korea in just a matter of days. How about we go get some Patbingsu tomorrow. Will that make you feel better?”

You nodded, but all you really wanted was to see Jihoon again.

You hoped you saw him soon.

Chapter Sixteen

#told ya i hadn't forgotten about this story lmao #Click Click by leejihoonownsmyheart #lee jihoon #woozi #seventeen #svt #svt kpop #lee jihoon seventeen #lee jihoon svt #say the name seventeen #say the name #seventeen say the name #seventeen kpop #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #woozi fanfiction

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marshmallow-phd · 6 years

Text

Sculpted Raven

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Summary: It had been just you and your brother for the longest time and that’s how you liked it. Politics and lies had drove you away from your home five years ago and that has since left a bitter taste in your mouth. While exploring the latest town you’d settled in, you met Chanyeol. He was everything you didn’t want: goofy, happy-go-lucky… a wolf. Mate pull or not, you were going to try everything you could avoid him while keeping the secret from your brother. But how long would you be able to fight? Will Chanyeol be able to pull you back into the world you swore you would never enter again?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I Final

Flopping down on the finally cleared off couch, you let out a hefty sigh. When your brother first suggested moving to this town, you were skeptical. A college town that was surrounded by woods. You were sure that he would get discovered, accidentally changing around a party of students or some other avoidable event. But he insisted on this place and since you swore to stay by his side… well, you didn’t really have a choice.

Unpacking was certainly the worst part of moving. The fact that you were the kind of person that once you started you couldn’t really stop just made it worse. However, you were finally done after doing nothing else since breakfast thanks to zero help from your big bro.

Speaking of the devil, Lon came waltzing in the front door, whistling to himself.

“Well, now this place looks like home!” he cheered.

You glared at him. “Yeah, no thanks to you.”

He blew you off, heading into the kitchen and going straight for the freshly stocked fridge. Opening the door and letting the cold air out, he just stood there, studying the shelves like he was practicing for the Bar Exam.

Pushing yourself up off the couch, you came up behind him, already in tune with whatever he was thinking. “I’m not cooking you dinner, too.”

He whined, “But your food is so good. And you know how I am in the kitchen.”

“Yeah… useless.” Sometimes, you really had to make yourself remember that he was nearly two years older than you.

Growing up, you were always looking after him. Especially since he used to be so tiny. The other boys in the pack would pick on him, bully him to no end. Well, when you all were still a part of a pack.

No. Nope. You didn’t go down that road. You no longer dealt with wolf business and that was how you liked it.

“I guess I’ll just have a sandwich then,” Lon grumbled.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t you mean six sandwiches?”

“I take offense to that,” he scoffed.

You crossed your arms as he turned to face you, letting the fridge door close with a thud. “It was meant to be offensive, idiot.”

Lon pounced, putting you in a loose chokehold before you could get away. Stupid jerk. You fought against his hold, grunting as you tried to gain some sort of leverage. You didn’t get any.

“Say you’re sorry and I’ll let go,” Lon mocked.

What were you, five?

“Not a chance,” you grunted stubbornly. Eventually, he’d let go. Right?

“I’m stronger, sis,” he laughed. “Always have been, always will.”

Irritated, you took the low road and elbowed him in the stomach. He groaned, his hold loosening enough for you to escape.

“Cheater,” he huffed.

Grabbing your leather jacket off the back of the couch, you saluted him. “We each have our ways. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Where are you going?” Lon jutted out his bottom lip. Ugh. You hated it when he pouted. Someday he’d learn that he wasn’t a cute puppy anymore.

“Out,” you answered simply before closing the door behind you. He was the one who chose this place, it was only justifiable that you got to explore it on your own as well.

It was well into the new semester. The air was starting to warm up as spring approached. College students were bucking down for their midterms, but that didn’t stop most of them from going out on a Friday night.

A small art festival was taking place in the downtown area so you decided to check that out. It was held in a large open area where dozens of white tents were set up in rows for the artists to display their works. Some had potter up for sale, other’s jewelry while most stuck to classic paintings and sketches.

Plenty of people were milling about, weaving in and out of the tents with treats in their hands from the food trucks parked nearby. You could easily hang around without attracting too much attention, blending in and not being noticed. Not that you actually looked like an artsy person with your worn leather jacket and ratted black jeans with massive holes in the knees. You made a note to yourself to remind your brother that your converse would need replacing soon.

A particular tent decorated in black and white and sepia photos of old ruins and worn objects caught your eye. You moseyed on over to it, squeezing around a small group of girls that were huddled around the entrance. Taking your time, you flipped through the photos that were housed in black cardboard frames to keep them from bending.

You were absolutely fascinated. More colorful pictures were hidden behind the grainy ones that originally caught your eyes. Beautiful blues and greens that made up the northern lights. Golden sand that contrasted against the almost-white blue sky. Waterfalls and hot springs. But your absolute favorites were pictures the photographer had somehow gotten inside the Chernobyl disaster area.

There were crumbled up books, decaying buildings, and even an old typewriter. The ones that really drew you in, though, were the many pianos that were falling apart. Dust and cobwebs covered the chipping wood. Many had missing keys and their rusting stings inside were exposed for the world to see. The last one you came to had fallen onto its back, the pieces still left barely holding together.

You felt a lot like those pianos. A shell of your former self. Where there used to be a once happy and carefree little girl who wore dresses and got along with other kids, now there was only a bitter woman who preferred to left alone. You were crumbling away inside with no desire to tape the pieces back together.

“See anything you like?”

Glancing up, you rolled your eyes as you pushed the stack of photos with your index finger back to their original position, leaning away from you for the next person to sort through.

A fairly tall boy with blonde hair and tanned skin was holding himself up against the table of boxes that housed the artist’s work in a manner that he probably thought was suave and cool.

“Not interested,” you deadpanned. Stuffing your hands in your pockets, you walked around him and away from the breathtaking pictures. It’s not like you had extra money to buy them anyway.

“Now that’s not very nice.” The guy had long legs and so he caught up to you in less than two strides.

“Do I look like I do nice?” you snapped. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

In your peripheral, you saw him rake his eyes up and down. “I’d say you look nice. A few rough edges, maybe, but I think I could smooth them out.”

You lost it. Whirling on him, you put up your wall and riled up your tough girl act.

“Listen,” you growled. “I. Am not. Interested. So go chase a short skirt that might actually care about your pathetic attempts at flirting.”

With a set jaw, he opened his mouth to-

“Tao!”

He clamped his mouth shut tight and his eyes flashed yellow, just for a second.

Shit. You pissed off a wolf. Your brother hadn’t mentioned that there were other wolves here. He probably didn’t even know. The idiot.

Two other tall wolves stood about ten feet away. The one in front of you - Tao - whined before throwing you a glare and running off to join his pack members. The tallest one with a very authoritative aura to him grabbed Tao by his neck and started dragging him away. Tao let out a few cries of pain, but that didn’t deter his brother.

Just before you could go about your business, the second wolf caught your eye. He had a soft face outlined by light brown hair and ears that stuck out a bit. Dark, contrasting brown eyes stared at you in fascination. His eyebrows were pulled together in confusion. An uncomfortable feeling settling in your stomach, you backed up a few steps before turning around and inserting yourself into the crowd that was moving in the opposite direction of the wolf.

You decided it was time for you to head back home and you left the art festival and walked along the empty sidewalks of the business district.

To no one’s surprise, your brother was sprawled out on the couch, munching away at sandwich number who knows what. As soon as the door was shut behind you, you marched up to the couch and slapped your brother upside the head.

“Ow!” he whined through a mouth full of food. “What was that?”

“Did you even do any sort of freaking research before choosing this place?” you yelled.

Tossing the sandwich down on the coffee table, your brother sat up. “Of course I did! Do you remember what happened last time?”

Of course you did. The idiot didn’t realize that a particularly nasty pack had already settled in the area a few months back. Your brother had needed several days to heal up after that encounter while you searched desperately to find anywhere else to live that wasn’t there. The worst part was that you actually liked the area.

“Why the hell do you think I’m asking?” As much as you loved your brother, he could be a real idiot sometimes. “Did you happen to miss the wolves that already live here?”

Lon shook his head. “No, I know they’re here.”

You blinked. Several times. “Excuse me?”

“I met one of them when I was scouting the place out,” he elaborated. “I was bouncing around the different auto shops, seeing anyone had any openings. I came across a new shop that was looking for hire. The owner spotted what I was right away. He doesn’t care. It’s his pack that claims this territory, but as long as we don’t cross them, we’re fine.”

Okay with your brother’s presence or not, you were not satisfied or comforted by his explanation Or the fact that he left that important detail out. “And you didn’t think that maybe I should know about this?”

“Nope.” God, he even did the lip pop on the “p” that you hated so much. “I knew you want to find a different place and I like it here. I start at the shop tomorrow and we already signed a six month lease on the place. So chill out.”

He was absolutely correct. You would have fought tooth and nail to go somewhere else. You didn’t trust wolves. After the shit the pack pulled against your family… well, let’s just say that if your brother didn’t turn into a big hairy dog every once in a while, then you would have made sure to extinct that part of your life forever. Even so, you did a pretty good job of avoiding the supernatural.

“Fine,” you grumbled. Walking around him, you snatched up his sandwich before heading down the hall to your room.”

“Hey!” Lon called after you.

Officially claiming the sandwich as your own, you took a large bite out of the corner. “You’ve had enough!”

Honestly, you should probably get a job. It might cure this boredom you had. But your brother insisted on being the only breadwinner in the family and didn’t really agree with you finding full time work as well.

You could always take classes. The college might actually take you. You had decent grades in high school. Not honor society worthy, but still not bad. You’d taken some college courses in the past after you first graduated, but the idea of staying in a lecture hall for over an hour while some old guy yapped away like what he was saying was actually important wasn’t how you prefered to spend your time.

With no other appealing tasks, you once again set out in randomly walking around the city. Out of the seven days you’d been settled in this place, this was about the fourth time you’d spent it this way. Each time, you hit a different area, memorizing the street names and buildings located there but always avoided the college. According to your brother, most of the pack was enrolled at the university and you didn’t feel like having another run-in with any of them. Lon hadn’t really met of them either, but he wasn’t too worried. His boss apparently was of the higher ups of the pack and treated him well.

Thinking about your brother made you realize that you hadn’t gone to visit him at work yet. While you knew where the shop was located approximately and what it was called, you hadn’t physically been there yet. You decided that could cure an hour or so and you brought up the shop on your phone, following the map until you were outside the entrance.

There was a car in each of the three slots of the garage with a few mechanics milling about. You shifted back and forth on your feet while your eyes searched for your brother. You had the right shop, didn’t you?

“Can I help you?”

The really tall wolf from the night at the festival walked up to you, wiping his hands with an already dirty rag.

“Um,” you scratched the side of your neck. “I’m looking for Lon?”

A look of epiphany lit up the wolf’s eyes. “Ah. you must be the little sister.” He held out his hand. “I’m Kris.”

Hesitantly, you took his hand, shaking it politely. “(y/n).”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Kris smiled. He motioned with his head, “Follow me. Lon’s under a car right now.”

Oh. That explained why you didn’t seem him. You followed Kris to the car all the way to the end of the garage. Lon was lying on a shop roller on the floor underneath a blue convertible. Kris hit his palm against the door twice.

“Hey, Lon, you’ve got a visitor.”

Your brother pushed himself out from under the car. “(y/n)? What are you doing here?”

You shrugged. “I was bored.”

Lon grunted as he got to his feet. “Sorry, Kris.”

Kris waved it away. “Don’t worry about it. Family’s important. Besides, the owner won’t be picking up until tomorrow. No rush.” He looked at you and nodded. “It was nice to meet you.”

You gave him a slightly forced smiled. You couldn’t help it. Too many years spent being weary of other wolves. “You, too.”

Now just the two of you, Lon sighed, shaking his head at you. “Did you at least bring me lunch?”

“No,” you scoffed. “I was just walking around, figured I’d kill some time here, see what you do with your day.” You leaned against the car, stuffing your hands in your pockets.

Like the annoying brother he was, Lon pulled the beanie from your head and then tugged on your jacket. “Don’t scratch the car. I’ll have to pay for that.”

Rolling your eyes, you swiped your hat back and stuffed it in your pocket before straightening up. “Yeah, right. You could fix a small scratch in your sleep without spending a dime.”

Lon had always loved tinkering with cars ever since he was kid. He’d go on and on about cylinders and nitro gas and racer movies. A permanent smell of grease followed him everywhere. Your dad always encouraged it, buying him old clunkers that Lon would spend hours pulling apart and putting back together again. You’d usually hang out with him in the garage doing your homework or just sitting on the floor, watching him. The garage was where he was happiest and seeing your brother happy made you content.

That was always the height of your emotions: contentment. You weren’t exactly sure what “happy” was anymore. That was a feeling you hadn’t had for a very long time. Neutral was where you stayed most of the time, teetering on angry. Angry at the old pack, angry at your dad, angry at the world. Usually, you were able to stamp it down. Anger was useless when you had nowhere to direct it.

“Still,” Lon scolded, flicking your forehead, “don’t lean on the car.”

Looking around the shop, you watched as the mechanics as joked around and teased each other. Their laughs echoed off the walls and made the atmosphere an enjoyable one.

“Do you like it here?” you asked.

With a big smile, he nodded. “Yeah. I like it a lot. Kris is a good man to work for. And I don’t have to hide what I am.”

You frowned. “Are the others-”

“Nah,” he didn’t even let you finish. “Just Kris knows. But that means I don’t have to hide it from him if… something were to happen.”

You didn’t exactly want to think about what could happen if your brother was to accidentally lose his temper.

“That’s good.”

“Kris!”

Your head snapped around to the voice that had called for the shop owner.

Ugh.

It was the brown haired wolf from the festival. Tao wasn’t with him, thankfully. This time, a different sandy haired boy was with him along with a literal incarnation of a puppy. So much for no more running into them. Weren’t they supposed to be in school?

Kris looked up from the engine he was currently looking at. “Hey, guys! What’s up?”

You turned back to your brother. “I’m going to go ahead go. I’ll see you at home.”

“Okay!” Lon threw an arm over your shoulder, pulling in so he could plant a kiss on the top of your head. You shoved him away, trying to feign annoyance, but it didn’t work. You loved affection from your brother.

Now the trick was to sneak out of the garage without being noticed. You were almost in the clear, taking quick but quiet steps. The sidewalk outside was almost in your reach….

“Hey, wait!”

You didn’t wait. Your pace quickened, hoping that your obvious determination to not stop would deter his chase. Unfortunately, not.

“Hey!” The wolf grabbed your arm and brought you to a stop before spinning you around to face him.

“What?” you growled.

“I’m Chanyeol,” he blurted.

You raised an eyebrow. “So?”

As hard as it was, you tried not to focus on his face. Cute boys weren’t your type at all. Especially cute boys that didn’t understand that you obviously didn’t want to be bothered. One would think that after his friend being shot down last week, the hint would be painted on a billboard sign that you weren’t interested.

But then you really met his eyes.

Your heart was doing something funny. It was speeding up and not in the usual flight or fight way that you were used to. A smile grew on Chanyeol’s face. It was a little lopsided as it crinkled the sides of his eyes. It just made your heart jump even more.

No. Hell no.

“What’s your name?” he asked softly.

“Not a chance.”

You wretched your arm out of his grasp and took off. As fast as your feet could carry you, you raced back to your apartment, not stopping until you were safe within its walls. Collapsing against the door, you slid down to the floor, releasing a sound that was a mix of a groan and a whine the whole way.

This was so not happening to you. It wasn’t going to happen to you. Not on your watch.

Taking off your jacket, you rolled it up into a ball until your noticed your pockets were empty. Searching all around you and even risking being found to look outside your apartment, you desperately wanted to find your purple beanie. It was your favorite and it was nowhere to be found.

Great. Just freaking great.

One week here and you hated this place already. Hopefully, you dropped it back at the shop and your brother was able to pick it up. If not - you didn’t want to think about the possible alternative. From now on, you were going to have to become a recluse. And you had make sure that your brother never found out.

#exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #exo werewolf au #exo werewolf!au #chanyeol x reader #Park Chanyeol #huang zitao #tao #kris wu #wu yifan #Sculpted Raven #untamed wolf universe

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manicpixiedreamjew · 6 years

Text

ok i rewrote and revised my letter! let me know what you think

2/9/19

Rabbi Randy,

As our Into class comes to an end, a lot has been on my mind. My spirituality, my values; how my perception of the world has changed as I solidify my Jewish identity, especially as a young woman. I spent a few hours poring over journal entries dating back all the way to 2016 this Shabbat, and a consistent theme stood out in all of them: an overwhelming, genuine urge to live an authentic Jewish life. I read, thrown back into the innocent curiosity, the puppy love, the childlike fascination with Jews and Judaism that began with a book. The Chosen, the very first Jewish book I read, and I’m sure I’ve told you this story before; I’ll spare the details.

Anyway, those first inklings of interest, say, early 2016, were academic. I was a vehement atheist born to a family of atheists. Then again, who has a nuanced understanding of religion and people-hood at sixteen? My atheism was an obstinate, cynical world view triggered by traumatic experiences with Christianity. When I picked up The Chosen, though...I was slapped right across the face. Judaism was the first thing that challenged my philosophies; it forced me into an entirely foreign universe I never thought I’d know, need or understand. It taught me empathy foremost, in those early days...studying Judaism exhorted me to bear the burden of others, to feed the hungry (a MAZON seminar comes to mind), comfort the weary. Looking at my journal, an entry dated 3/3/17 elaborates on the effects of antisemitism in America, and next to that a newspaper cut out of a Magen David. It wasn’t quite personal then, but it was something I wouldn’t have looked twice at a few years earlier. It disturbed me deeply.

Then, mid-late 2017. The journal entries shifted, as you’d expect; I’d been exhaustively involved in reading and researching by then. I see a lovingly inscribed entry detailing, religiously, my first Kabbalat Shabbat at CRC. 7/1/17. The smells, the melodies, my friends, the birthday celebration of two elderly men who loved baseball. “A deep, riveting admiration for something ancient and pulsing with life.” That puppy-love stage was in full effect, my love of Judaism and its personal implications blossomed over the springtime, although its fragrance wasn’t entirely sweet: I was forced to confront my identity and ask myself that looming question. Do I want to become a Jew?

That question threw me for a loop. It was an emotionally intense time. I confided to my closest friend that, although it may sound absurd, converting to Judaism was something I was interested in. I remember crying myself to sleep some nights because the decision was so massive, so heavy, so entirely suffocating for someone with no background in religion, no sense of community or family. Eventually, though, my fate did not seem so dire, and I came to my senses: I loved Judaism. I loved it, I love it. One of the first things that stood out to me and comforted me was the Jewish emphasis on family, something I never experienced. I clung to it: how someone’s always there for you; how you’re adopted into world-wide support network called the Tribe. How no matter where you travel, anywhere in the world, someone will enthusiastically invite you over for Shabbat lunch. How, because you are Jewish, you will never suffer alone.

That, then, began my serious resolve to be Jewish, do Jewish and live Jewish.

Ever since I met with you on 11/21/17 (I have an entry for that, too!), my life has been a foray into Jewishness. You told me to start observing Shabbat and Yom Tov, and I did so with vigor: I bought a chanukiah, acquired the shiniest candlesticks I could, and read every book the local library had regarding proper observances. I look back on my first few holidays and laugh now, playfully admonishing myself for my mistakes and mishaps. But that’s the fun, right? If I learned anything from this week’s Parsha (Terumah), it’s that the means are more much important than the end, the intention more meaningful than the actualization. Late 2017 to early 2018 was all that: learning, doing, experiencing, interacting, existing with a fat dose of humility. Organizing a basic Jewish vocabulary, and through Shabbat services and working with the community, pinning down what it means to live a Jewish life.

Enter 2018! This was, perhaps, the most frustrated and chaotic year on my Journey to Jewish. To start, it was my last semester of high-school. Everything, and I mean Everything, was dependent on my graduation—most saliently my own happiness and sanity. My synagogue attendance was dwindling, my ambition and motivation was all but absent. I’ve always suffered from depression and severe anxiety, but its clutch tightened horribly those first few months. I managed to attend a Kol Nidre service in early September—and, it remains one of my most beautiful and cherished memories to date. December, I know, was the hardest. Between my Catholic father making crusade jokes and my Jesus-obsessed mother spewing casual antisemitism, between unending loads of coursework and no free time, I felt my spirit literally withering. This never weakened my resolve to live Jewishly, but some days I just couldn’t bring myself to enact the values I knew I held in my heart. Some days Judaism felt like a beloved friend, and others Judaism felt like a stranger. Nevertheless I continued to live as Jewish a life I could, but even kindling the Chanukah candles felt joyless. I was like Tevye standing in the middle of the woods, anguished, as his horse refused to budge. Through all of it, though—the sadness, numbness, friction—I was never, ever, once deterred. That’s how life is sometimes. But to be a Jew, as our own Reb Tevye zealously insisted, you must have hope.

And I did. This is when Judaism became real to me, when I realized it was a part of my life and etched into my very being. If I could live Jewishly, study, be a part of my community and find solace while also dealing with these hardships, this was clearly meant to be. I’ve been using “us” and “we” pronouns for a few months now, referring to myself as Jewish even though I’ve yet to immerse in a mikveh. When our class visited the Holocaust museum, the loss and heartache I felt was profoundly intimate...a personal loss, the loss of family I never had the opportunity to know and love. I had never experienced anything like that before, and it continues to haunt me. I’ve been the target of hateful and ignorant remarks. People have glowered at my Magen David; they’ve called me names and insulted me. “Christ killer, money hoarder, dirty Jew.”

But, and I’m a bit weepy remembering this, living Jewishly (and loudly at that) is a blessing. Maybe two summers ago I catered to an older family for their son’s graduation party. An uncle approached me, blinked at my Magen David and muttered “bless you.” I was visibly shaken; I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Later in the evening the grandmother touched my shoulder and asked, “are you Jewish?” I told her I was a conversion student. She embraced me, dug out dreidels from her kitchen drawer, and told me that she was separated from her Judaism during childhood. That it was too dangerous for her to practice, that she wanted to go back to synagogue now that she was safe. I encouraged her daughter to finally have her bar mitzvah. My heart was full. Another memory I’m fond of: wishing a stranger chag Pesach sameach and Shabbat Shalom on the street. He was wearing a kippah. The smile on that man’s face was unforgettable.

Those moments, to me, were godly. Actions are a conduit of holiness; I’ve learned that over the years. To act with intent and sanctify the mundane is second nature to us. A bracha, a kind word, charity, song...everything is a vessel for godliness.

Fast forward a bit: 2019. As I grew into my adult identity, so did I into my Jewish identity. I had my 18th birthday, graduated, passed my driving test. I began to wrap my hair on Shabbat, meditate on the Sh’ma swathed in a tallit, give tzedakah. Often times I sat in the little CRC classroom and pondered on the application of my learning: how it translated into my everyday life, how it reconciled with my values as a progressive woman in today’s society...but mostly, I think, I thought about how at home I felt. I walk into CRC and immediately feel at peace; a part of a family, the member of a loving household. I walk into the sanctuary and about a dozen people are ready to greet me with big, heartfelt smiles. It melts me every single time.

Alright, I’ll quit boring you with all this schmaltz.

I’m not sure that there was one definite moment when I knew, for sure, that being Jewish was the right choice for me. In fact, to assume all that soul searching could fit into one tiny, fleeting, ephemeral moment is ridiculous...as you know from the absurd length of this letter, which is only a minute fraction of my story. Seriously, I could go on, and on, and on; but I digress. Sitting at our Sukkot celebration and dancing with all the other people, looking up through the sukkah and marveling at the hanging plants and leaves. Baking challah on Friday morning and realizing that somewhere, other Jewish women are doing the exact same thing. Feeling warm summer wind on my face, seeing fireflies flicker through the bushes and knowing that HaShem is there. Touching my siddur to the Torah for the first time and bristling, feeling as though something breathed new life into me. Group Aliyah, a guiding hand on my shoulder as we chant the brachot in clumsy unison…

Each moment (and many more, and yet more to come) reaffirmed the fact that Judaism is my home. Ruth said it more succinctly and eloquently than I ever could: Your people shall be my people, and your God shall be my God.

Randy, I never thought I’d be doing this. Ever. Looking back at the learning and growing I’ve done, reading those journals and reminiscing on my journey, I can firmly say, if you agree, I’m ready to enter this Covenant officially.

Thank you for everything, as always,

Zoë

#oops its 5 pages #save

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royalcordelia · 6 years

Text

Time Turns to Amber (1/11)

Summary: The line between universes is blurred when Anne Shirley of Green Gables suddenly switches lives with Ann Shirley-Cuthbert, a university student living in the contemporary world. Suddenly Anne must learn how to navigate the modern world, one which contains a boyfriend, a part time job, and another year of university. Meanwhile, Ann struggles to tackle corsets, farming, and a world without electricity. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, but most people can't tell the difference between the redhead they know and the girl who replaced her. Dedicated to the ever-beautiful @hecksinki

A Time Travel, Soulmate AU

Rated T+ • 4.2k words • Read on ao3 • Part Two

Standing in the darkness of the ballroom corner, Anne Shirley watched the dancing couples fly across the room in a flurry of whirling skirts to the rhythm of the waltz. Everything had gone according to plan: the preparations, the ceremony, and thus far, the reception. Anything less than perfect would not have been adequate. Diana Barry deserved the best, after all. That went without saying.

The ceremony was certainly right out of a daydream, with its flower garlands, string quartet, and crystalized colors echoing on the walls like dancing shadows from the chandeliers. Dozens of compliments were paid directly to Miss Josephine Barry, who’d a knack for planning elaborate celebrations and did so annually. But none of the previous soirees or banquets could compare to this magnificent occasion, planned for the bride by her most kindred spirit. Anne had truly outdone herself.

She really should have been happy. After all, she’d never heard of a wedding that didn’t have at least some small little blunder to speak of. But Anne couldn’t help but feel a little bit...well, she might as well come out and admit it - she was jealous.

In the privacy of her own mind, Anne mourned how right the event was. Diana made the perfect bride, and contrary to Anne’s expectations, Jerry Baynard wasn’t all that shabby of a Prince Charming. Each polished spoon and lacy white decoration only suited Diana’s passage into wifehood. Here in this bridal castle, alive with celebration and exuberance, Diana was the queen - queen over a man who adored the very ground she walked on, queen over her new household, queen over a lifetime of happiness. The most beautiful queen that had ever been born in Avonlea.

Anne, on the other hand, felt like a homely side ornament for Diana. She could never hope for such grand celebrations on her behalf. Certainly, Aunt Jo had told her that if she chose to remain unmarried, she could earn the money to host such a celebration, but Anne had a feeling it wasn’t going to be her choice.

If she were to tell the truth, she’d say that she really did yearn for a married life. She ached for a lifemate, her partner and equal. Perhaps it was selfish, but Anne had hoped in the weeks leading up to Diana’s wedding that if some small little thing went wrong, it would mean Diana’s wedding wasn’t to be a seamlessly perfect event. No such inconvenience occurred, and Anne was forced to face the reality that girls like Diana were meant to have resplendent weddings. Girls like Anne were left to have no weddings at all.

“You know, you seem rather dejected for a girl whose best friend is the midst of the happiest day of her life,” a deep, familiar voice said beside her. Anne didn’t have to look away from the waltzing guests to know who it was, but merely leaned her head onto his shoulder.

“I’m not dejected, Cole. I wanted nothing less for Diana today. If I did, I wouldn’t have planned everything so…” Anne sighed. “Dazzlingly exquisite.”

“Then why are you radiating such dark waves, oh picture of joy?”

Anne did look to Cole then, and she could tell immediately that he knew what ill feelings plagued her heart. He simply wanted her to tell him herself, to speak her mind instead of brewing alone in her sorrow.

“The last few weeks of planning this wedding and seeing how Jerry and Diana truly complete one another has made me realize that I am not the marrying sort.”

Cole frowned.

“You don’t want to get married?”

“No, I do, but can you imagine someone looking at me like that?” Anne looked over at Diana and Jerry dancing blissfully in each other’s arms. There was no denying the adoration in Jerry’s eyes, how his love for Diana blossomed from the center of his heart and grew throughout his entire body like a blinding light. “It’s simply impossible.”

“Oh Anne,” Cole reprimanded gently. “Someone does look at you like that. Only every time he does, you pretend not to notice.”

“Not this again,” Anne moaned, turning her back to him. “No matter how many times you say it, it doesn’t get any more true. Gilbert Blythe does not care for me like that.”

“Shall I provide you proof? Look at him with Moody over there. Go on, Anne, look.”

Anne’s heart dropped to the floor when she finally gained the courage to look up

Gilbert Blythe was a sight to behold, with his suit all primly pressed for his best-man duties. The contours of his face were lit by the warm chandelier light, making his cheeks look like sunsets of gold and rose. Just to gaze upon him made Anne feel strangely unsatisfied, as if there was something missing, a hole that was craving to be filled. With what, though?

It only seemed to worsen when he gazed back at her, an unfortunate circumstance for the present moment. True to Cole’s prodding, Gilbert’s eyes were locked on her in an intense fashion that she could always feel on the back of her neck. The connection of their gazes lit Anne into red fire, and for a few moments she sat there simmering, aching. She hoped he would look away first because she couldn’t find it within herself to move, but instead he only smiled. No coy, teasing wink. No smirk of boyish taunting. Genuine affection that Anne could feel as presently inside her as if he were standing just before her brushing hair away from her face.

“Now, I think that has put an end to your nonsense,” Cole murmured into her ear. Anne felt more heat flood into her rosy cheeks when she realized her friend had watched the silent exchange. “Go dance with him.”

“N-no,” Anne stammered shakily. Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to admit that he was wrong, not when Gilbert was looking at her like that. “I think I’ll go steal a dance with the bride.”

As Anne ventured through the room, she wanted nothing more than to lock herself away in a room with Diana and speak all that was on her mind. But there were to be no more late nights with her bosom friend, no more jumping on beds or pretending to be princesses. Those days were buried in a distant past, and had been for years.

Oh, why did everyone have to grow up and change? Why did Diana have to get married and leave her forever? And why did Gilbert insist on looking at her as if she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen?

Diana might have sensed the raging storm in Anne, had she not swallowed it in time for Diana to lay eyes on her. The endless beauty of bridal white and crystals spun to greet Anne with a euphoric grin.

“Mr. Baynard, I do think you have been monopolizing your darling wife far too long this evening,” Diana teased, extending her hand to Anne. “For the next dance, I believe her interests lie elsewhere. Anne, have you room on your dance card?”

“I’d be delighted,” Anne said with a chuckle. The two spun away with an explosion of very unladylike laughter, too busy desperately holding onto one another to correctly perform the steps of the waltz. Eventually, their giggles subsided and Anne pulled Diana close into her arms.

“Anne, what’s wrong, dearest? If you hold onto me any tighter, I think I’ll turn to dust,” Diana said gently. Anne only squeezed a little and buried her face into Diana’s shoulder.

“You know, I always wanted a sister. Now I have one and I already have to let you go so soon.”

“Come on Anne, you know you’ll see me just as much as you always did! I’m not going to let married life get in the way of our friendship. You’re just as much my family as Jerry is.”

“My mind knows it, Diana, but my heart refuses to see reason. I feel like my feet are glued to the center of the world and everything is moving so fast around me. I can’t catch up.”

“You’ll figure everything out, Anne,” Diana comforted. She ran a comforting hand down Anne’s head, and it was all the redhead could do to not let tears trickle down her face. Pulling back, Diana took Anne’s face in her gentle hands and Anne had a stray thought that Diana would make the most spectacular mother one day.

“I know in my heart that your feet will get unstuck soon. Next thing you know, we’ll be planning your wedding.” Diana’s eyes glanced over to where Gilbert was standing with Jerry, the pair of lads watching the girls dance.

“Not you too,” Anne muttered, pulling back. “I simply cannot fathom why everyone believes I should marry Gilbert Blythe.”

“Oh, Anne, I didn’t mean to upset you. You just seem so taken with him these days. You’ve spent practically every day together at Redmond studying, even though you’re both enrolled in different programs! With your graduation just completed, we’ve all assumed that his proposal was inevitable and-”

Anne had heard quite enough, and was quick to intercept whatever terrible thing was about to come out of Diana’s mouth.

“Look at that, Diana! Jerry is positively glaring at me. It seems I have stolen away his wife away for too long. I think I’ll go get some fresh air on the veranda. Aunt Jo says the view of Charlottetown all lit up is positively breathtaking. I’ll return shortly.”

“But Anne!” Diana tried to reach for her, but Anne was too quick to press a kiss to her cheek and scurry away.

The escape wasn’t very genteel in nature, but the feeling of fresh cool air in her lungs crashed into her like the summer tide. With the sun safely set beneath the island horizon, the breeze had taken a slight chill that cooled Anne’s skin from the lace of her own white dress. Aunt Jo’s veranda was truly as magnificent as the rest of the estate, with its view over the city and white marble columns.

Shuffling up to the edge of the balcony, Anne leaned at the railing and tilted her face up to the stars.

“Will you align for me, too?” she asked all the flickering stellar brilliance. Maybe her luck had run dry the day Marilla decided to allow her to stay at Green Gables. Anne shook her head - that was a terribly ungrateful thought to have. She’d never exchange her life at Green Gables for anything. But now that she had tasted happiness, was she to now go without it for the rest of her life? Was her happiness meant to stay stagnant where it was when she was the fresh age of eleven, never to grow?

Suddenly, her thoughts came to a screeching halt.

His presence was tangible behind her, though she didn’t hear him come outside. She waited for his to say something, expectant when he finally called out to her.

“Anne, I’ve come to see if you’re feeling alright. You looked pale when you left,” Gilbert said gently into the night air.

“Just a bit lightheaded. It’s dreadfully warm in there with all the lights and people and dancing,” Anne lied. If she was at all dizzy, it was because even from here she could smell the spicy, earthy scent of him from across the balcony. It was enough to make her knees weak. Gilbert knew Anne well enough to see through the lie, but also knew when to allow her to keep her secrets.

“Alright,” Gilbert he replied carefully. He paused, as if deciding what to do, then cleared his throat. “Would you like some company?”

Against her better judgement, Anne replied with a smile, “Always.”

Gilbert fell by her side, leaning his elbows on the railing just inches away from hers. Hunched over, Anne saw the lines of his back, the strength of his shoulders, the moonlight in his hair. The universe certainly was trying its best to paint this man as her ideal, she realized. Never before had Gilbert been so capable of appearing so melancholy and handsome. The girls of Redmond college certainly said otherwise. It was truly unfair that forces unknown should tempt her with her own preferences in a man that was so very...not her preference - at least romantically. Gilbert was her preference in a conversation partner, dinner company, a friendly rival, and a best friend. In fact, she rather preferred his company more than anyone else’s with the exception of Diana.

“What’s on your mind, Anne-girl?” he asked finally, peering up at her with those hazel eyes that sometimes her dreams tormented her with.

“Anne-girl?” she replied with a chuckle.

“I heard Miss Barry call you that earlier. I like it.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “Don’t think I don’t notice you sidestepping the question.”

“I’m not! It’s just that nothing particular is on my mind.”

Gilbert quirked a brow, thoroughly unconvinced.

“Given the events of today, I find that impossible to believe.” Anne was silent for a moment, her fingers fiddling with the smooth ivy that engulfed the railing.

“Oh alright,” Anne gave in with a sigh. She knew she could trust Gilbert with some of the aches in her heart, if not the aspects that had to do with him. “When we were children, I suppose I always foolishly assumed that Diana and I would find happiness around the same time. That fate had us traveling parallel roads.”

“You’re not happy?” Worry sent a frown on his lips that made Anne feel a little guilty.

“I’m happy enough,” she admitted. “Oh, I feel like a dreadful person. Pretend I never said anything.”

“I’ll do no such thing!” Gilbert straightened his back and turned to face Anne head on. “Not until you tell me what’s bothering you.”

Anne crossed her arms over her chest, averting her gaze from his. What was the point in telling him? There wasn’t a single thing he could do to point her on the right path. Nevertheless, she opened her mouth and it was like an electric switch had been flipped.

“Everyone is growing up and deciding what they want to do with their lives. Meanwhile, odd Anne Shirley is weeks into her graduate life and has no idea where her place is in the world. With Diana married, she won’t have any time to spare for me, I just know it! And Jane is planning on spending the summer in England for missionary work. Even Marilla and Mrs. Lynde have been organizing a Lady’s Aid for the church, and have barely been home. Everyone is doing something with their lives and I can’t seem to make up my mind about anything. Not about my vocation, not about you-”

She froze, hoping that if she covered her tracks soon enough, he wouldn’t catch the little slip, but he was too quick. Gilbert had gained some wisdom about Anne in their years at college, and decided to pretend he heard nothing - even if it did make his heart skip a bit to replay it in his mind.

“I think I know how you feel,” he admitted.

“Now that can’t be true, Gil. You’ve known about what you’ve wanted to do since our schooldays.”

“Maybe in general, but certainly not specifically. There are many branches of medicine, you know. I could specialize in the brain or in general practice, if I wanted. Something tells me I’ll make a wonderful surgeon, but I’m not sure if that’s what I want.”

“I suppose that’s what medical school is for, is it not?”

“It’s not just that,” Gilbert grumbled, a bit frustrated with himself. Anne turned to him and searched for his eyes. She hadn’t seen any of this turmoil in him before, and they saw each other practically every day. “I have what you would call an ideal in my head of what I want my future to be. There’s a white house on the shore, trees, children, laughter and fun…”

Anne dropped her gaze to the ground. That sounded an awful lot of what she’d always dreamed of as well. Unaware of her embarrassment, Gilbert continued.

“I want a simple country practice, Anne. I want to be a reliable, compassionate doctor. Someone the people can trust.”

“You’ll have all those things, Gilbert. I know that for certain.” He was like Diana - favored by the stars and by fate. Handsome and smart, there was no way he’d ever lack in happiness or success.

“But there’s something important missing right now, and I’m afraid that if I don’t gain it now, if I don’t earn it, then my life will always be lacking true happiness.”

For a split moment, Anne wondered what it could possibly be.Then, she looked up at him and her heart halted in her chest. The deepest parts of her soul gave a sigh of anticipation and yearning at the desire in his eyes, like it wanted to be consumed by him. The sensation was overwhelming and foreign, leaving Anne stranded at his side unsure of what to believe and feel. Gilbert took her silence to muster his courage and ask something he wanted to know above all.

“What did you mean before about not being able to make up your mind about me?”

Even in her indecisiveness, Anne knew that this conversation was about to cross a line that she wasn’t prepare to travel over. His eyes were too intense, begging, serious.

“Gilbert, it was nothing. Can we pretend I never said anything in the first place?” Gilbert took a step closer to her, and Anne countered with a few stumbling feet backwards until she was pressed against the railing of the veranda.

“If that’s what you want, Anne, but avoiding me like this isn’t going to help you settle on any decisions. If you’re not honest with me or with yourself, you’re never going to make up your mind about what you want in life.”

“And just what do you think I want, Gilbert Blythe?”

“I think you want someone to stand beside you and love you. I think you want someone to be your equal and support you no matter what path in life you decide to traverse, just so that you won’t be alone when fate tosses you around.” Anne fought back the urge to touch the redness of his cheeks, keeping her fists clenched at her side as he continued. “I’ve not been honest with you all these years, Anne. Not completely.”

The truths of her mind and heart overcame her for a moment and she whispered in a silent plea, “I already know, Gil. You don’t need to say it.”

“I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t. Anne, I-”

She quieted him in the only way that she could. She grabbed him by the collar, pulled herself up onto the balls of her feet, and kissed him. The second her lips made contact with his, Anne felt herself dissolving, but Gilbert wrapped his arms around her before her knees could crumble. She wrapped one around his shoulder, pulling him closer until there was no space for secrets, fears, or longings between them. It was an overwhelming onrush of sensations, with his mouth kissing her with the unrestrained passion he’d locked inside for years and his fingertips gently caressing her cheeks and down her neck. Anne let herself surrender to the need to remain in his embrace, safe and loved, ignoring the cries in her mind that she shouldn’t be doing this. This was Gilbert Blythe, childhood confidant, loyal kindred spirit.

But oh, she could suddenly imagine very simply being a doctor’s wife and having a curly haired, hazel-eyed family. The images came to her mind without any resistance at all - a white house surrounded by dozens of wildflowers, a neat little corner to write in, a husband who looked dreadfully like Gilbert. She could see it all, and she wanted it.

She wanted it enough to let him trail kisses down the soft lines of her chin and down her neck, leaning into him when she felt she might melt into him completely. The sensitive skin erupted into shivers when he lingered at the cleft of her throat, and she ran her fingers through his soft hair.

Then, with a shaky exhale, Gilbert lifted his head back up and looked into her half-lidded eyes.

“I love you,” he said quietly, reverently.

Reality came crashing back onto Anne, and she fought the urge to tear herself out of his arms and run away. Any hopes and dreams she’d drowned in while he kissed her were gone now, replaced by her own logic.

“I...I don’t know how I feel, Gilbert,” she confessed in a frightened whisper. “There’s so much I don’t understand about myself, so much I haven’t decided or discovered. And then there’s Roy to consider. He’s-”

“Roy? ” Gilbert nearly spat. He knew all about Royal Gardner - the wealthy, melancholy English student who had been vying for Anne’s affection since the day he’d offered her his umbrella in a storm. He sent Anne flowers, composed sonnets to her eyes, showered her in gentlemanly praise. He also despised Gilbert, and once openly blamed him for his own failure to capture Anne once and for all.

“Yes, Roy. He cares for me so, and I sometimes I think I must care about him too.” It was a dagger in Gilbert’s heart and he set his jaw. “But then there’s you, Gil.”

“What about me?” he replied flatly.

“I don’t know yet.” Anne took a steadying, shaky breath. “I need time.”

“We’re running low on time, Anne. Gardner is going to want an answer before you move back to Avonlea.”

“What about you?” Anne said, crossing her arms in front of her chest as if to hold her beating heart from breaking out of her.

“I’d wait forever,” he vowed in a low tone. “I’d rather not, but if you need time, Anne, you’ll have it from me.”

“Alright,” Anne said, inhaling late spring air. She gave one last look at Gilbert and his red lips and mussed hair, all effects of the kiss that still had her vibrating with something unknown. Reaching forward, Anne straightened his tie and collar, effectively restoring him to a presentable state, then ran her thumb over his cheek. The skin was damp, whether from sweat or a stray tear, she didn’t know. Then she distanced herself a few steps away.

“Enjoy the rest of the celebration, Mr. Blythe.”

He watched her evaporate into a silhouette against the lighted doorway leading to the manse, artwork in the frame of the present, the past, and a barely attainable future.

Diana and Jerry left for Toronto for their honeymoon at dawn, leaving Anne waving after their departing faces on the morning train.

“Our train is next,” Gilbert said, adjusting his suitcase in his hand.

Anne hadn’t been able look him in the eye since their accidental tryst at the wedding the night before. In fact, she hadn’t been able to sleep, think straight, or look at herself in the mirror without picturing the passionate embrace she’d initiated in the moonlight. She rather wondered if it had happened at all, since Gilbert had mastered the art of acting as if nothing had happened.

“I think I’m going to take a walk up the tracks and enjoy the morning sun for a few minutes. These warm days are so freshly new to us, you know,” she said.

Gilbert knew precisely what she was trying to do. He flashed her a look in his eyes that said very clearly, You can’t avoid me forever, but have it your way, and then nodded.

“Would you like me to come find you a few minutes before the train arrives?”

“No, I should be able to keep track of time well enough by the shadows.”

Gilbert wasn’t convinced. He pulled a copper pocket watch from inside his coat and handed it to Anne. She held it up to her ear and listened to the emphatic ticking. It was plain in appearance, but she’d seen it enough times to know that it had once belonged to John Blythe. She even knew where his initials had once been engraved on the side, now rubbed away with time and wear.

“Here, for security’s sake. Marilla will have my hide if I’m late in getting you home,” Gilbert continued.

“Thanks,” she said, biting her lip under his gaze. “I won’t be gone long.”

As she headed down the railway platform and into the loose grass, Anne couldn’t help but feel as she were walking away from something forever, like the last pages of a book before the cover finally is closed. She stopped and turned back to see Gilbert standing on the platform looking after her with his hands in his pockets.

He raised one hand and waved. Anne, forgetting for a minute the events of the past night, smiled and returned the gesture.

Then she turned her cheeks to the summer fragrance being carried on the wind, and walked along the worn railside.

#anne of green gables #anne with an e #shirbert #anne and gilbert #shirbert ff #tessa writes #it is my sincerest wish that you all enjoy this story #i've always hoped to have a decent mc #Let me know what you think!! <3

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magicrobins · 7 years

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You should do the dnd asks for val 0; i vote do all of them LMAO JUST DO IT FRIEND

Mother of God…

21 Asks for D&D Characters (and OCs)

1. What influenced or inspired the creation of this character?

Lmao nothing too deep actually. I love the drow. I wanted a drow character, thus Valas was born! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

2. What is your character’s relationship with their family? Family is a word which here refers to biological relatives, close companions, and/or the individual(s) who raised them.

Biological family: Terrible. Valas’ mother and siblings were extremely abusive to him - physically, mentally, and emotionally. He despises them, fears them, yet also still cares about them. He ran away from them for a reason, though.

Close companions: For the sake of this, I’m going to just focus on Valas’ companions from his backstory (y’all can watch the episodes of The Second Breakfast Club to see his relationships with those companions ;D -nudge nudge wink wink-). In his hundred years of life, there were few individuals he grew actually close to, the first being a fellow drow named Miz’ri T’sath. The others were the first party he joined, consisting of Zintra Rastor, Hai Li, Meiros Vanhorn, Elizira Vanhorn, Dominic Crawford, and Eve Crawford. They all became like family to him, including Dominc & Eve’s extended family - Dominic’s wife, Amelia, and their daughter, Evanora. Being with that party gave him the first sense of what a family perhaps should have been like.

3. Who is the closest person to them?

Valas always becomes closest to his lovers - Miz’ri, Hai, and Meiros in his backstory. Out of those three, he was the closest to Miz’ri, whom he grew up with and knew for many many years. At the moment, out of the current party he’s with, he’s the closest to Rihiri - who belongs to @jellyfishlovesloki, having started to open up to her after entering a friends with benfits relationship with her. I believe he’s opened up a little bit about his backstory to her, mentioning the previous party and his previous lovers, Meiros and Hai - possibly mentioning Miz’ri, not quite sure yet.

4. What were the conditions surrounding their formative years?

Terrible. Valas grew up in a hostile, abusive home. Even his father, who he thought genuinely loved him, emotionally and mentally manipulated and abused him.

5. What creature would they like to have as a pet?

He actually has a pet! She’s a large, cat-sized black spider named Spite.

6. Do they have any bad habits?

It’d be easier to say which bad habits he doesn’t have lmao! I mean honestly it’s a very large list so I won’t include everything. He self-harms, he closes himself off emotionally from others when hurting (unless it’s one of the times he just like shatters, in which case he can’t stop crying), he closes himself off from grief, he blames himself for anyone he’s ever hurt that he’s cared about - even if it wasn’t his fault. Aaaaand a lot more shit.

7. Is there anyone they’d die for? Kill for?

Absolutely! He’d die for and kill for the same people, let’s be honest. And as much as he’d deny it, it’s not a short list. There’s Miz’ri, Meiros, Hai, Zintra, Elizira, Dominic, Eve, Amelia, Evanora, Rihiri, and Zaegar - who belongs to @nutellanewt. Eventually, as we get farther into the campaign, he could feel this way about other current party members or NPCs.

8. Who was their first love?

Miz’ri, who to elaborate is a drow warlock and Valas’ childhood friends. I love her so much and their relationship so much. It’s the kind of love that can always be rekindled whenever they see each other again and just, ugh that just gives me all the happy feels. (♥ω♥ ) ~♪

9. How would this character react to someone confessing their love for them?

Depends on who for like whether or not he’d be surprised or just like “wtf.” But genuinely nowadays, he’d be surprised. He wouldn’t admit if he feels the same way. He’d insist that the person deserves better than him, that he’s not a good person, etc. In his experience, he feels he just brings those he loves pain.

10. How old is this character?

Currently he’s one-hundred and one years old!

11. Are they normally peaceful or aggressive?

Aggressive as fuuuuuuuck. Growing up in the drow society, he’s learned to just default as hostile.

12. How does this character handle stress?

Not well. He likes to think he’s good at hiding it, but too much anxiety and it shows. Under too much stress and he just goes into fight or flight.

13. Does your character consider themselves lucky?

Nope. With all he’s been through, he’d say he’s quite unlucky.

14. What is their favorite holiday?

He doesn’t really care for holidays?

15. What is the best gift they could receive?

LOVE, PATIENCE, AND UNDERSTANDING. He just needs people to love him, be patient with him, and understand the pain he goes through practically on a daily basis.

16. If they could instantly kill one person in the world without consequence, who would it be?

Himself.

17. If they were in possession of a trio of wishes, what would their three wishes be?

He would wish for Dominic, Eve, and his father to have never died.

18. What is their favorite spell or method of attack?

He doesn’t have spells. He’s a rogue assassin. His favorite honestly goes back to the previous party he was in. He would run toward Zintra, and jump onto her shield, where she would use her strength to push him up and propel him into the battle with his daggers drawn.

19. What are their guilty pleasures?

Cuddling Rihiri or lying on Zaegar’s back as he does push-ups. Don’t judge him.

20. What is something this character is or could be addicted to?

From my personal experience, self harming can be a form of addiction. I’d say he’s quite addicted to that. Possibly sex too, but idk about that for sure.

21. Have you actually played this character yet?

Yep! I’ve played him in every D&D session I’ve been in so far.

#dungeons & dragons #dnd #the second breakfast club rpg #drow #rogue #oc #c: valas telenna #s: the second breakfast club rpg #v: let's go on an adventure #ask anna #jellyfishlovesloki

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the-master-cylinder · 4 years

Text

SUMMARY Ship’s engineer Andrew Braddock (York) and two other men are floating in a lifeboat in the middle of the Pacific following the wreck of the ship Lady Vain. One dies at sea. After seventeen days at sea, Braddock and the other man land on an island, where the other man accompanying Braddock is promptly killed by animals. Braddock is nursed back to health in the compound governed by the mysterious scientist “Dr. Moreau” (Lancaster). Besides Moreau, the inhabitants of the compound include Moreau’s associate, Montgomery (Davenport), a mercenary; Moreau’s mute, misshapen servant, M’Ling (Cravat); and a ravishing young woman named Maria (Carrera). Moreau warns Braddock not to leave the compound at night.

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Moreau welcomes Braddock as an honored guest and willingly shares his fine library, but there are some strange goings-on. One day Braddock witnesses Moreau and Montgomery manhandling a chained creature who is clearly not quite human, and the island is home to more than just this one recites the laws Moreau passed on to them. Moreau explains that they are, in fact, the hybrid products of his experiments upon various species of wild animal. Braddock is both shocked and curious. Moreau explains that he is injecting the animals with a serum containing human genetic material. At times, the human/animal hybrids still have their animal instincts and don’t quite behave like a human which sometimes enrages Moreau, feeling that his experiments haven’t worked successfully. That night, as Braddock is reeling from learning the truth, Maria goes to his room where they have sex. It is implied that this is intended by Moreau.

The following day, Braddock takes a rifle and leaves the compound, determined to see exactly how the hybrid creatures live. He enters a cave and finds several of them (all male). Just as he is surrounded by them and about to use the rifle to defend himself, Moreau appears and restores order. The Sayer of the Law (Richard Basehart) is the only one of Moreau’s experimental beasts who can speak; Moreau calls on him to utter the three laws (no going around on all fours, no eating of human flesh, no taking of other life) aloud to the other creatures. This reminds them that they must not attack Braddock.

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After the Bull-Man (Bob Ozman) kills a tiger, Moreau intends to take it to the “house of pain”, his laboratory, as punishment. The Bull-Man panics and runs. Braddock finds it in the jungle, badly injured, where it begs him to kill it rather than return it to the lab. Braddock shoots it, angering the man-beasts, as Braddock has broken the law of killing.

Convinced that Moreau is insane, Braddock prepares to leave the island with Maria. Moreau stops them and straps Braddock to the table in his lab. He then injects him with another serum so that he can hear Braddock describe the experience of becoming animalistic. Caged, Braddock struggles to maintain his humanity. When Montgomery objects to this treatment, Moreau shoots him in cold blood.

Outside the compound, the angry man-beasts turn on Moreau because by killing Montgomery, he has broken the very rule he expected them to follow. He is killed at the compound’s gate while trying to whip his attackers into submission. The man-beasts, now overpowered by their primitive natures, go on a rampage to try and break into the compound and destroy the house of pain as the Sayer of the Law states “There is no law.”

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Braddock, still struggling to remain human, Maria, M’Ling, and the still-coherent and benign beastfolk servant women stave them off and engineer an escape through the compound. Eventually, the man-beasts break-in and the compound is burned. In the chaos, the wild animals which Moreau kept for his experiments are turned loose and a battle ensues between them and the hybrids. Most of the man-beasts are killed by the animals or consumed by the fire, the Sayer of the Law’s throat torn out by a tiger, the Bear-Man tackled off a roof by a black panther, and the lion-man is mauled by a normal lion. During the final escape, M’Ling risks his life to save his companions from a lion and both fall into a pit trap.

Braddock and Maria manage to float away in the lifeboat that Braddock arrived in, but are followed by a Bear-Man (David Cass) who is one of the last man-beasts. After a battle with each other, Braddock kills the Bear-Man with a broken oar. Sometime later, they see a passing ship, and the serum has worn off, returning Braddock to his full human state as Maria looks on with catlike eyes.

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PRODUCTION In December, however, producers Sandy Howard and Samuel Z. Arkoff descended upon the small island resort of St. Croix in the Virgin Islands with dozens of cast and crew members, tons of equipment, and a menagerie of wild animals. There, in the lush rainforest of the island community, a new $7.25 million adaptation of THE ISLAND OF DR. MOREAU was filmed in its entirety. The period piece, set in 1911, stars Burt Lancaster in the title role. The young hero, enduring yet another name change to Andrew Braddock, is played by Michael York, and Richard Basehart steps into the role essayed by Bela Lugosi.

Although the producers, and director Don Taylor, insist that the picture is not a remake of the 1932 production, it does retain many of the elements of the earlier adaptation, including a female lead in the person of Barbara Carrera as Maria. An added twist in the new version finds Moreau, distraught that his creatures invariably revert to animals, attempting to conduct his humanizing experiments in reverse on Braddock.

Lancaster & Taylor

“Right around that point, Burt showed up in Cannes, and he tore the place apart just walking down the street the people went ape, because he’s an old star. and I guess they don’t get many old stars there anymore. That convinced us that we should use Burt. But even he had some hesitation, so I went and I talked to him. He said, “You got a problem with the script.” I said, “Yeah, but what picture have you done lately that didn’t?’ We did have a problem with the script, and we did a serious rewrite on it that…didn’t work, unfortunately. But Burt was very good, because he was secure with me: I took care of him, watched him. That’s my whole theory of directing: security. Give the actor security and, to a great degree, let him go. Sometimes you’re able to do that completely, like I did with Burt and sometimes you’re not-that’s when you get into trouble. Burt worked very hard.” – Don Taylor

SPECIAL EFFECTS Highlighting the film are Moreau’s grotesque “humanimals,” created by the makeup wizardry of John Chambers and Dan Striepeke, who had earlier worked together on the PLANET OF THE APES series and numerous other projects. Working from sketches and models, Chambers and his crew made casts of their actors’ faces and then elaborated upon their facial structures with clay. The clay was then used to make molds from which foam rubber appliances were made that were affixed to the skin and then blended to match the still-visible portions of the actors’ faces. In this manner, a boarman, bullman, hyenaman, lionman, bearman, and the wolfish Sayer of the Law were created. Human features derived from a goat, lynx, ram, badger, and baboon were also designed in mask form for less prominent roles. An orangutanman was developed, but when the producers objected on the basis that it might look like a PLANET OF THE APES rip-off, some more hair was added and it was redubbed a slothman.

The two men recognized that the makeup would lie somewhere between the Primal Man concept and the Planet of the Apes concept. The mechanics had already been licked in these previous films, but the concept would take some doing. They worked with Sandy Howard in developing the creatures. Although they studied the original film version of The Island of Dr Moreau, which was titled Island of Lost Souls (1933), they felt that they could offer much more than could have been done in 1933.

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Concept art created by Mike McCracken for the The Island of Dr. Moreau. Several paintings, drawings, maquettes were created for the designs of the creatures.. the “Humanimals” as they were called. The pre-production started in 1975 with John Chambers, Danny Striepeke and McCracken. Mike created pencil sketches of the characters first, drawings were then selected and from those selections he created more fully developed illustrations in oil and acrylic on canvas and on illustration board.

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After illustrations were selected McCracken sculpted numerous maquettes of those characters, from those maquette he then sculpted all of the prosthetics. A makeup test done in early 1976 of the Lionman, the Boarman and Hyenaman to show the producers Samuel Z. Arkoff and Sandy Howard how the makeup designs would look. They loved them and based on that successful makeup test a revised script was written to include more Humanimals.

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Striekpeke went to the Islands first, doing makeup on Burt Lancaster and Michael York and others. Chambers remained back at the lab with his crew preparing enough appliances. The requirements changed continually up until the last moment.

Surprisingly, the trouble with Dr. Moreau, according to director Don Taylor, was the makeups. “I inherited something that I couldn’t do anything about,” he says, “and that was the appliances that had been made chins, noses and foreheads for all these man-animals. The idea was that these animal men should have been grotesque half human and half beast. But they were all Disney, cuddly. You wanted to kiss ’em. I couldn’t make any grotesquerie out of em at all.” – Don Taylor

The first makeup on Michael York was created by Dan Striekpeke. He created a sunburnt, blistered, dehydrated look brought about from the shipwreck Michael survives. York becomes the first specimen that Dr. Moreau attempts to transform from human to animal, the norm being from animal to human.

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Chambers had created appliances so that he could subtly transform York into a wolf without the audience realizing it. Chambers and his staff prepared as many as three separate makeup designs for each creature, varying in degree as to human and animal components. “For example,” Chambers explained, “at one point you see the bullman with little nubs where his horns start, and then later you see him with great big horns. But that presented a problem because you couldn’t identify him. I said to Don Taylor: ‘How are you going to identify them, unless you say, “Look, the bullman has changed.” You gonna put baseball numbers on them?’ So we had to throw out the intermediate steps, except in two or three cases. We showed Mling being dragged and taken back to the House of Pain to be rejuvenated, or whatever. And the same with the lionman. We take him from 70% lion and make him 15%. But you see him being taken away and then brought back out to the cart – you know it’s him. And they put a colored patch on his shoulder that was his baseball number.”

Rick Baker’s Lion Man test makeup (Rejected)

Chambers did anticipate problems with the appliances and the moisture, particularly because some of the action required fighting scenes in the water. Special adhesives were used, and the problem never arose. Chambers was quite proud of the teeth he designed and created. They were veneer and tamped right in. Despite the fighting with the actual animals, there were no broken real teeth, and the actors could talk with them, too.

Early Version of Boarman by Mike McCraken

One scene called for the Bullman to be attacked by a real Bengal tiger, and Striekpeke created a fiberglass helmet from a mold of Bob Ozman’s head. It was outfitted with straps and a protective covering. The production staff had been advised that when an animal attacks—provided he does become “wild’’ enough to do so—he could snap at a head or neck in an attempt to crush the skull. Because they were going to train the tiger to bite one of the Bullman’s horns off anyway, they felt every possible precaution should be exercised.

Yes, of course. I’ve done simple martial arts kinds of things. But, as an example of what I said earlier, it was during the shooting of The Island of Doctor Moreau that my karate training truly became useful to me. Because I’d learned a few things about balance, eye contact and the importance of not showing fear, I was able to work with the big cats more effectively. It made me feel good when I knew that what I was doing, how I was controlling the tiger’s actions, would save or even make a shot. A human being can’t compete with that kind of tremendous power. And, that’s something that young people should realize about karate; there are real, human limitations. However, on the movie, it was knowing how to get the cat’s attention, by looking at him a certain way. I used a kiai on one shot to scare the cat and make him attack. Sometimes the attacks became real. It was my martial arts training that told me not to show fear. A good elbow strike, or back fist came in handy at those moments, too. – Bob Ozman/Bullman

However, York, taking “dramatic license,” wanted to do the part dramatically and physically rather than with appliances. Striekpeke did a beautiful job in creating an effective makeup using highlights and shadows and a little hair. The makeup, combined with York’s performance, achieved the effect very successfully.

The other actors who are seen (or not seen, actually) as the Remaining key mutated creatures all had to be expert stuntmen. The script called for a battleroyale between the new species and Wiwir four-footed counterparts lion, a tiger, a boar, a bull and a hyena. Most stuntmen refuse to work with exotic animals, so these were selected on the basis of their association with animal behavior training by Ralph and Toni Helfer, animal experts who own and operate Enchanted Village in Buena Park, California.

Bob Ozman, who plays the half-man, half-bull creature, owns a karate school and has always worked with animals, which made him a natural for the film. However, in comparing his acting stint to his other encounters with wild animals as a trainer, he comments, “I found it more of a challenge and much scarier than any of the outrageous and so-called dangerous stunts I’ve ever performed before.”

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The tiger did try to bite Bob Ozman, who was playing the Bullman, on the back of the neck, and another time a fang just grazed his eyes. Both times the helmet was the lifesaving factor. Striekpeke had to repair it after the first encounter, which is some indication of how severe the attack was. At other times, the tiger would slash at a hand, tearing off a foam-rubber glove.

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Makeup calls varied from three a.m. to four a.m. It took four hours per person to make them into a Humanimal, mainly because there were so many appliances involved. The Wardrobe Department helped a great deal with other parts of the costumes such as fur jackets. Although the makeup could probably have been completed in three and a half hours, Chambers and Striekpeke insisted on an allowance of at least four, and the cameras were never held up.

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In spite of his star status, actor Richard Basehart also had to respond to that incredibly early call, for his part was to play the leader of the humanimals, a wolf by birth, the “Sayer of the Low.” In the film, he attempts to maintain the human half of his follow creatures and to void the animal instincts that smolder within. As an example of the technical care lavished on the movie, Basehart wore special contact lenses to simulate wolf eyes, since he was frequently seen in close-up shots. He also had a hump built onto his back, because he stands too erect otherwise to represent one of the man-beasts.

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RELEASE/DISTRIBUTION Reportedly, several endings were shot, including a couple of shockers in which Braddock, after escaping the island debacle with the now-pregnant Maria whom he loves, suddenly discovers that she is not what he thinks, but rather the pinnacle of Moreau’s unorthodox experimentation. In one ending, she begins to revert back to her former feline form, and in another, she gives birth, not to a child, but to a tiger kitten. Presumably, sneak preview responses will dictate which ending makes it into general release.

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CAST/CREW Directed Don Taylor

Produced Skip Steloff John Temple-Smith

Written Al Ramrus John Herman Shaner

Based on The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells

Burt Lancaster as Dr. Paul Moreau Michael York as Andrew Braddock Nigel Davenport as Montgomery Barbara Carrera as Maria Richard Basehart as Sayer of the Law Nick Cravat as M’Ling The Great John L. as Boar-Man Bob Ozman as Bull-Man Fumio Demura as Hyena-Man Gary Baxley as Lion-Man John Gillespie as Tiger-Man David Cass as Bear-Man

CREDITS/REFERENCES/SOURCES/BIBLIOGRAPHY brightlightsfilm.com martialartsentertainment Starlog#11 Starlog#165 Cinefantastique v06n01 Cinefantastique v05n02

The Island of Dr. Moreau (1977) Retrospective SUMMARY Ship's engineer Andrew Braddock (York) and two other men are floating in a lifeboat in the middle of the Pacific following the wreck of the ship Lady Vain.

#70sFilms #AIP

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quellines-stories · 7 years

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I've probably sent you five messages now and I'm being super annoying but I'm having valeyne withdraws

You’re not annoying at all don’t worry anon! Your messages are v sweet and mean a lot to me so thank you for taking the time to send them!

I’m sorry you’re having Valeyne withdrawals asdfgkh–

I haven’t finished the next chapter yet but here have some imagines if that helps lmfao 😃

[14 yr. old Wayne and 17 yr. old Jerome] 1) The Gotham origins era. Essentially the show era where Wayne and Jerome are just a pair of kiddos. To the GCPD, Wayne’s just a rich kid and Jerome’s a criminal that went into hiding. The unrequited era where Wayne has a thing for Jerome, but Jerome doesn’t return the notion due to how he’s about to be an adult, and Wayne’s just started high school.

2) Everyone including Jerome knows Wayne has a crush on Jerome and Wayne even admitted it at that, yet for the one time he admitted it the one hundred times he’s denied it. It’s become a game- a bet- to see who can get Wayne to admit it again first. Jerome isn’t fond of the game and tells the kids to bug off.

3) Jerome is a natural flirt. A jokester flirt. A flirt who accidentally says something flirty to Wayne that wasn’t meant to be flirty and results in Wayne either being awkward and avoiding him with a blush for a week or ballsy and smirking at him smugly for a week. There’s no in between and Wayne never comments on it– only provides expressions.

4) Wayne very rarely laughs, but when he does it’s generally thanks to Jerome. Jerome is rarely serious, but when he is it’s generally because of something involving Wayne. They balance each other out.

5) They both help each other’s impulse controls. Wayne eases Jerome’s urges to lunge at Gordon and Jerome eases Wayne’s urges to challenge five high school bullies to a fight. Wayne keeps Jerome’s ballsy behavior in check, Jerome keeps Wayne’s pride in check.

6) The only other friend they feel as comfortable as they feel with each other is Selina. Jerome views her as a little sister, Wayne views her as Crush Number Two.

7) Despite Jerome being careful to not be too touchy feely after finding out about Wayne’s attraction towards him, he still comforts Wayne with long hugs and rubs on the back whenever the boy has a nightmare about the alleyway, or when he’s freaking out about how Selina has been gone for way too long. Additionally, while Wayne respects Jerome’s boundaries, he does the same whenever Jerome is feeling upset, and while it occurs A LOT more rarely and A LOT less severely than Wayne’s panic attacks, they still occur every once in a while.

8) Despite being closer to one another than anyone else, they can pick up each other’s social cues, and know when to let the other have some time to themselves.

9) While Wayne’s bummed out Jerome doesn’t return his attraction, he gradually grows thankful when realizing Jerome could have very well taken advantage of him, and is even relieved Jerome was clear about why he needs to look out for older men who would welcome his affection.

10) Jerome is terrified of clowns, Wayne’s terrified of bats. Selina is the only other one who is aware of this. Selina resists the urge to dress up as a clown bat, because Selina is not a mean person, and that costume would probably look silly in any case. Jen encourages it jokingly.

11) Jerome definitely has a bond that’s stronger than a close friendship with Wayne, and it’s not a brotherly one, however it’s certainly not romantic.

12) Jerome and Wayne are just two traumatized kids that found each other, and aren’t sure what it would be like if they hadn’t, and aren’t sure they want to be. This is also why they view their other friends (Selina, Ivy, Jen, Jonathan, and Harley) as family as well– even if Jerome isn’t as close to them, to an extent, he cares about them.

[19 yr. old Wayne and 21 yr. old Jerome]1) The training era. The era where Wayne trains to become Batman, and something pushes Jerome to train with the Redhood gang. To the GCPD, they’re not worth noting yet, because Wayne’s on the other side of the world and the Redhood gang hasn’t committed big enough crimes to get noticed since the cops have bigger things to worry about than a few stealthy robberies. The lenient era where Jerome doesn’t frown down upon Wayne’s occasional flirts, but doesn’t encourage them either, but since he smirks at the advances rather than give Wayne a look, the occasional flirts have become a bit more common.

2) One of Ra’s Al Ghul’s first questions is whether Wayne is close to anyone who isn’t family since he needs to separate himself from all loved ones regardless of relation. Ra’s Al Ghul elaborates by asking Wayne if there’s a woman, for example. Wayne says no, and technically he isn’t lying, because Jerome isn’t a woman.

3) Jerome never mentions Wayne to the Redhood gang, because he’s aware that if he ever messed up, they’d go after anyone he cared about. So Jerome lies and insists he doesn’t have any loved ones.

4) Wayne writes a lot of letters to all of his friends– particularly Jerome, Selina, and Alfred. Alfred’s the only one who receives the letters, because the others get ‘lost.’

5) Jerome gets his ass kicked by a Redhood member he directs a sarcastic comment to. This is the first time Jerome has to patch himself up without Wayne’s help.

6) Wayne allows Ra’s Al Ghul to mess with his mind the same way the older guy that mind controlled him in Gotham did. Wayne tries to keep Jerome and Selina secrets since Ra’s already knows about Alfred. Wayne fails, and as punishment for not being honest Ra locks away his emotions towards them. It takes Wayne a month to break free of such and finally feel something other than disdain towards his old friends.

7) Jerome visits Selina sometimes. She can tell he’s not doing well, but he won’t listen when she begs him to leave the Redhood gang. Selina hopes Wayne will come back soon to talk some sense into Jerome. Wayne doesn’t come back for a long time. Jerome gradually starts visiting Selina less frequently.

8) Wayne has trouble recalling what Jerome looks and sounds like after a while. He’s also lost the picture he took of him with his friends the day before he left for training. He’s pretty sure Ra’s magic is the cause of this.

9) Jerome promised Wayne he’d stay on the right track when Wayne left. He doesn’t.

10) Wayne finally realized Ra’s was trying to shape him into a killer. Wayne escapes the league of shadows, but it’s a long way down the snowy mountain. It’s cold, but it’s fine, because he’ll see Jerome and the others tomorrow, and that’s what keeps the injured male going.

11) Jerome doesn’t miss Wayne anymore. He’s pissed at him for not coming back.

12) When Wayne finally does come back, he finds all his friends have moved, and only Alfred is there. He’s not sure where any of them are, and not even the best resources manage to tell him.

[21 yr. old Wayne and 24 yr. old Jerome] 1) The vigilante and Redhood era. The era where Wayne doesn’t really have a name for himself, and Jerome’s not solo nor Joker yet due to being in the Redhood gang. To the GCPD, they’re both menaces. The mutual era where the pair haven’t seen each other for a while, and neither is aware of the others’ secret identity, although this time Jerome returns Wayne’s advances because he has to admit– Mr. Wayne has become quite the catch.

2) Jerome sees Wayne just passing by when they finally reunite, and he has to do a double take because that’s definitely not the scrawny kid he befriended a while back, is it?

3) Wayne isn’t that different because when Wayne realizes Jerome’s staring at him in disbelief from the sidewalk he stutters like four times before regaining himself and ‘smoothly’ greeting the other with that charming Mr. Wayne charisma

4) Jerome can’t tell if he wants to hug his best friend, flirt with the new and improved billionaire, or strangle the jackass that went away for two and a half years longer than he said he’d be gone. Jerome goes with just flashing a smile to cover up his pissed off expression.

5) Wayne is too excited to realize Jerome’s a bit sore. He’s so excited in fact that he blurts out an invitation to dinner. He somehow does it casually, however.

6) Jerome accepts the dinner invitation because he likes free food. He’s not sure whether or not he wants to kill Wayne after dinner’s been paid for or get a few more free meals out of him. Jerome is nice and doesn’t kill the bastard acting like he hadn’t just left him high and dry for almost three years.

7) Wayne takes Jerome on a lot of dates. He’s still surprised that Jerome actually agreed to go with him on each date.

8) Jerome starts flirting with Wayne for fun. Jerome does not expect to have as much fun as he does.

9) Wayne flirts back, of course. Wayne is rather suave on the outside, and he’s pretty sure Jerome’s the only one who can tell he’s actually fairly anxious.

10) Jerome starts to fall for Wayne and Wayne’s an ass for making Jerome fall for him because Jerome’s SUPPOSED to be upset at Wayne but he’s gradually becoming anything but.

11) Jerome realizes they’re running out of date plans. He’s not sure why that’s resulting in him becoming so panicky until Wayne invites him to his house to just hang out, and Jerome feels relief at that. Jerome’s relieved that Wayne still likes just spending time with him, and they don’t always have to do fancy things to have fun. Jerome’s relieved that hasn’t changed.

12) Jerome is used to getting into others’ guy’s pants. He’s never really liked the guys he’s been with for the last few years, but at least the fun in the sheets wasn’t as boring as the guys were. Wayne hasn’t been with a lot of people despite his title of playboy, so when he goes tense when things get a little too heated, Jerome catches it, and Jerome backs off. Wayne isn’t used to not being chastised for being a 'prude’, and he feels rather safe around Jerome. They watch movies instead, and Jerome’s fine with that. Eventually, they do have a bit of fun, and it’s the first time Wayne hasn’t been teased into it. Wayne finds he’s pretty sure he loves Jerome, and while the feelings are mutual, Jerome can’t really find the words to say it back, and Wayne’s fine with waiting until he does.

[26 yr. old Wayne and 24 yr. old Jerome] 1) The Batman and Joker era. To the GCPD, Joker’s the only menace– unless you’re a bad cop. The complicated era where Joker has this obvious thing for Batsy that neither of them comment on, and where Wayne has a thing for Jerome– who he hasn’t seen in five years.

2) Jerome had a fight with Wayne a while back. He acts like he doesn’t even recall what it was about, but he does– it helps to just distract his mind from it, and insanity certainly helps with that.

3) Wayne blames himself for the argument. He should have handled it better. He shouldn’t have acted rashly. Jerome had every reason to be upset with him. He hadn’t realized it was going to result in Jerome leaving and never showing back up. The best resources couldn’t find Jerome, and Wayne’s not sure if he’s even in Gotham anymore, much less alive at that. Wayne likes to believe he is.

4) Jerome hasn’t been called Jerome for a while now. He’s not sure how many times he’s dyed his hair a lovely shade of emerald, or how many layers of war paint he has on his face that he never removes, or how many makeup kits he had to go through until the scar designs stopped rubbing off and ended up settling in like a permanent smudge.

5) Wayne became Batman to protect people like his friends. To be sure no one else ever had to go through what they did. To be sure they never had to go through what they each faced again. Nowadays, that Wayne seems like a mask, and he keeps his distance from it by occupying himself with capturing his friends he swore to protect and throwing them back in Arkham, because he’s gone and convinced himself that there’s a chance they could get better in there, and he’s doing the right thing.

6) Joker knows who all of the rogues are, but he doesn’t know who the vigilante is.

7) Batman is aware of who all the rogues are except for Joker– he’s believes he knows, but he doesn’t. He believes it’s a copycat from Jerome’s following– believes it’s Jack Napier. It’s not.

8) Joker manages to convince himself he feels nothing but hate for that jackass Mr. Wayne by directing the affection he’d had for him towards Batman. In reality, his affection has become obsession. In reality, he does feel a lot of hate for Wayne– but that’s not all he feels. It hurts to accept that, so Joker doesn’t.

9) Batman hates Joker because this piece of shit copycat just keeps coming back around and reminding him of Jerome. Nonetheless, considering he’s the closest thing he has to Jerome he can’t help but also somehow have this thing that he doesn’t have with the other rogues, and he’s not really sure if there’s a word for it, and he’s not sure how to describe it, but it’s screwed up and it pisses him off since it’s like this piece of Jerome is both helping him cope with what happened while also forcing him to not let it go.

10) Joker doesn’t expect their fights to ever turn out very different, however one does when Batman says those words, and even the voice changing device can’t cover up a phrase, because Wayne used that exact same phrase when they were pillow fighting and Jerome pinned him down, and how. funny. is. that.

11) Batman realizes who Joker is when Joker replies to that phrase the exact same way Jerome did.

12) Joker can’t help but contemplate on whether he wants to stab or kiss the jackass that he’d tried to leave five years ago yet had been seeing weekly this whole time in their little fights the same way five years ago Jerome couldn’t tell whether to strangle or flirt with the bastard that just showed up out of nowhere after disappearing for two and a half years.

#valeyne #jerome x bruce #bruce x jerome #anon #ask

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imagine-loki · 7 years

Text

By The Willow Shade

TITLE: By The Willow Shade CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 11 AUTHOR: MaliceManaged ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being a witch (on Earth) and accidentally summoning Loki. He gets angry and confused, but ends up actually liking your company and teaches you more magic. RATING: T

__________________________

“Willow; for the last time: No!” Was the first thing that Thor and Odin heard as Loki walked into the more private dining hall reserved for the royal family with a rather exasperated look on his face.

“Oh, come on! Pleeeease?” Willow pleaded insistently as she followed him in, “I’ll give you a month!”

“You could give me the rest of your life; the answer is still no,” Loki snapped with a finality to his tone as he dropped down to his seat.

Willow pouted but said no more as she sat down beside him as usual and wasted no time in digging into her food. The day’s lesson had been exhausting; Loki wanted to find what her new limits were, as he did once every month, and she was absolutely ravenous. Thor shared a look with Odin at that odd exchange, somewhere between curious and concerned as to what it could mean.

“What do you mean, ‘give a month’?” Thor asked Willow.

“It’s just a thing we do,” Willow replied vaguely, barely looking up from her food.

“Care to elaborate?” Odin asked Loki.

“Simply a lesson in moderation,” Loki replied nonchalantly, “Few things in life are free, and nobody likes to owe another.”

“So she barters for favours with days of her life?” Thor asked incredulously.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Well, what else would she use? She has nothing of value.”

“She’s also sitting right here and is not deaf,” Willow spoke up in annoyance.

“And what exactly do you intend to do with said days?” Odin asked rather sharply.

“Whatever I want; they are mine now, after all,” Loki replied casually.

“And you agreed to this?” Thor asked Willow.

“Seemed like a good idea at the time. I really wanted something,” Willow replied with a shrug.

“And just how much time has been given by now?” Odin asked next.

Willow thought for a moment. “You know, I’m not really sure.” She looked to Loki questioningly.

“How very responsible,” Loki said sarcastically. “You’ve given me thirty-seven days.”

Willow mulled it over. “Eh; for almost five months, that’s not so bad.”

“This practise cannot continue,” Odin said disapprovingly.

“That isn’t really your choice, Allfather. It’s her life,” Loki replied testily.

“As she is not an adult, her life is not hers to give just yet,” Odin said simply.

“Okay, are we seriously going to keep talking about me like I’m not here?” Willow cut in.

“What were you even asking for?” Thor asked suddenly, as though just remembering.

Willow was about to reply, but Loki beat her to it. “Nothing. She will not be getting it, and it will be discussed no further.”

Willow whined childishly but Loki only rolled his eyes and continued eating. Odin looked between them thoughtfully before returning to his own plate, still thinking about their arrangement. It wasn’t that he was worried for Willow’s safety - despite Loki’s penchant for chaos, he knew he wouldn’t put her in danger willingly - and he certainly did get the idea behind it, but he didn’t think it was altogether a good idea to teach the girl to use her own life as currency.

****

The next day found Willow sitting in a corner of one of the gardens - dressed in a dark purple t-shirt with a lighter shade button up worn open and tied at the bottom over it, black cargo pants tucked into her combat boots, and her sunglasses perched on her nose - tossing the orb Loki had given her on her first day there into the air and catching it easily, much like he had been. Sometime later she heard animated chatter nearing, followed by Fandral and Sif. They paused when they noticed her and walked over.

“Good morning, Willow. Tired of Loki’s presence already?” Fandral greeted with a grin.

“He’s in a mood,” Willow replied vaguely.

“He tends to be,” Sif said with a slight scoff.

“Yeah, well; he’s got a lot on his mind,” Willow said slightly defensively.

Fandral let out a laugh. “No one would doubt that; he’s always plotting something.”

Willow bristled slightly at that and stood. “Right, of course, that must be it,” She said shortly then began to walk away.

“You are awfully defensive of him,” Fandral commented as they followed after her.

“Your point?” Willow said without looking at him.

“Well, it merely makes one wonder…” Fandral replied, letting the implication hang in the air.

“You people are twisted; you know that?” Willow said exasperatedly, “I mean, seriously; is that all you think about?”

“Him? Basically,” Sif replied with a snort. “But it must be said, it is a bit suspect that you put so much faith in him.”

Willow stopped walking and turned to them with a glare. “You wanna know why I trust him so much? It’s actually really simple: He earned it. You wanna know how? Again simple: He’s the first person in my entire sixteen years of life who has ever actually given even half a damn about me. Imagine that!”

With that she turned around again and stormed off, leaving the warriors to look at each other somewhat guiltily. She ended up in another part of the gardens she hadn’t been to before, not that she even noticed, and climbed up the highest tree there to sit in the branches. It was an old habit; the bullies she grew up around either couldn’t climb very well or didn’t think she was worth the trouble, so it was the perfect escape. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there gazing into the orb, mesmerised by the swirling colours as they calmed her, when she heard someone speak below her.

“Peaceful; isn’t it?” Odin called up to her, “Frigga had quite a talent for it.”

“So I’ve heard,” Willow replied, sitting up and looking down at the king.

“Do you know? This was her favourite garden,” Odin continued, looking around fondly, “She spent much time here. It feels as though some of her lingers still, even now.”

“I honestly didn’t notice where I was; I just wanted to be away,” Willow admitted. She more-or-less carefully moved from the braches she was sitting on and dropped down to the ground with her usual (lack of) grace then looked around. “It’s beautiful.”

“A clear reflection of she who tended to it,” Odin said, “I admit to be somewhat surprised you did not escape to Loki’s hall, given the subject of your discussion with Fandral and Sif.”

Willow looked at him somewhat surprised. “Do I want to know how you know about that?”

Odin chuckled then pointed up. Willow followed his direction and saw a pair of ravens circling above them.

“The purpose of bringing you to this realm was to observe. Did you not wonder how?” Odin said lightly.

“Ah. Okay then; that’s not at all unsettling,” Willow replied. “As for my not going back to Loki; he needed some time to himself, which is the whole reason I left in the first place, and I didn’t feel like staying in my room.”

“I see. I assume, then, that he told you of our conversation while you were with Thor?” Odin asked.

“He did.”

“I suppose it might be a good sign; his need for solitude,” Odin mused. “He has much to think on. As indeed do I. I can only hope this reflection does not come too late.”

****

By lunch time Willow returned to Loki’s hall, given that her other option was the feast hall and she really didn’t want to risk facing Fandral and/or Sif again quite so soon; she was still a little upset over their conversation. When she walked into the sitting room Loki was just sitting down at the table. She walked over and took her usual seat across from him, filling her plate without a word.

Loki took one look at her and immediately noticed something was off. “What happened?”

“Nothing major,” Willow replied with a slight shrug.

Loki raised an eyebrow then frowned slightly. “Who was it?”

“Thor’s friends,” Willow replied, knowing he’d get the answer out of her eventually and not wanting to beat around the bush.

“Of course,” Loki scoffed disdainfully. “About me, I presume?” He guessed and she nodded, “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault; people think what they think,” Willow said somewhat bitterly.

“I hope at least they didn’t ruin your entire morning.”

“Nah; I spent most of it in your mom’s garden,” Willow said with a small smile.

“It is peaceful, isn’t it?” Loki said with a wistful smile. “I spent much of my childhood in there; it’s where she taught me a lot of what I know.”

They ate mostly in silence then moved to the balcony for Willow’s lesson; he was teaching her to manipulate wind to her will, so they needed the outdoors, or at least as close as Loki could get to it. When Willow was tired they moved back inside and settled on the couch in front of the fireplace, where Loki busied himself with Willow’s hair, tying it into braids.

“Have you thought about it?” Willow asked after a while.

“About what?” Loki asked back absently.

“You know what.”

Loki was silent for a long while then sighed softly. “It is complicated, lítið einn.”

“It’s even more complicated if you don’t even try,” Willow said, turning around to face him.

“I have tried, Willow. Many times,” Loki replied, sitting back and looking at the ceiling, “I’m not sure it’s worth it anymore. If it ever was.”

“Then be sure,” Willow said, moving closer to him and nestling into his side, laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. “Make sure. You might find something, or you might not. But at least you’ll know,” She added then tried and failed to stifle a yawn.

“Sleep, lítið einn,” Loki half whispered draping an arm over her shoulders.

Loki gazed into the fire long after Willow drifted off, thinking about her words. He knew she was right; it was better to know for sure if there was anything worth keeping of his ties, regardless of what the answer was. He looked down at Willow’s peaceful expression and felt that familiar lightening of his heart. With every day that passed he accepted it more, despite his reluctance to put himself in that position again. He only hoped that this time it would turn out better.

#Loki #God of Mischief #Others #Submitted fic #submission #By The Willow Shade #malicemanaged #chapter 11 #witch #earth #summoning #angry #confused #liking #company #teaches #magic

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